#kindred!death au | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

theonlyqualitytrash · 19 days ago

Text

Ultima Sacrificium - Fyodor x Reader

Synopsys: The wolf and the lamb, it all comes full circle. Living in a cult was a beautiful lie, woven by those that claimed to love you.

Warnings: Fyodor, no ability au, graphic violence, mental and emotional manipulation, possessive behavior, cult themes and brainwashing, religion, moral ambiguity and ethical dilemmas, death (just lots of it)

A/N: This took two white nights to write I was high for most of it. I took a lot of inspiration from Midsommar and Kindred's lore (league) — thought it fit the relationship dynamic between Fyodor (a wolf in sheep's clothing) and the protagonist (a lamb). Enjoy :)

Word count: 8,800

"Once, long ago, there was a pale man with dark hair who lived in a world much like ours. But the pale man was terribly lonely. Why was he lonely? Well, you see, all things must meet this man one day, and so they feared him. They shunned him. They whispered his name with trembling voices and hid behind locked doors, hoping he might forget them. The pale man was patient, for he knew that time would bring all things to him eventually. Still, he wished for company, for understanding, for love. But how could he ever find such things when everyone turned away from him?"

"The pale man grew tired of his solitude, so one day, he took up his axe and made a choice. With one swift swing, he split himself in two, right down the middle. From his pale form, two figures emerged. One half became a lamb, soft and gentle, with warm eyes and a voice like a lullaby. The lamb would comfort those who came to the pale man, wrapping them in its embrace, whispering sweet assurances: 'Do not fear, for I will make your passing gentle.' The lamb brought peace and stillness, a quiet that felt like a soft bed on a cold night."

"The other half became a wolf, fierce and watchful, with sharp teeth and piercing eyes. The wolf would guard those who came to the pale man, protecting them from fear, doubt, and anything that might harm them in their final moments. 'Do not fear,' the wolf growled, 'for I will keep you safe as you walk into the unknown.' The wolf brought strength and courage, a shield to carry into the great beyond. Together, the lamb and the wolf made the pale man less frightening. No longer did the people shun him, for they saw in him not an end, but a promise. A promise that their journey would be gentle and strong, warm and brave, all at once."

"Now, the pale man is never lonely. All things come to him in time, and when they do, they do not turn away. They open their arms to the lamb and the wolf, knowing that both will guide them to their destiny."

Children are the fruit of society, and children were taught to see the world through stories like these. Some grew to be rotten, while others became little lambs—gentle, obedient, perfect for the herd. It was what society hoped for, and as a child, you were no different. Your parents told you bedtime tales of faith and sacrifice, and you learned that life in your community was a blessing. You had food and shelter. You were loved. You were taught to be kind and giving. These were virtues, they said, and to give back was the greatest blessing of all.

But as you grew older, the ways of giving back began to unsettle you. Were they truly necessary? Must they be so cruel? So violent? The gods demanded it—or so you were told. Your parents would never lie to you. The Shepherd would never lead you astray. He was chosen by the gods, blessed with their wisdom and charged with guiding you all. Surely, he only wanted what was best for you, for the community.

Yet, the thoughts prevailed, whispering doubts that you dared not voice. It must be your fault, you decided. Everyone else was content, even joyful. If you could not share in their faith, then something was wrong with you. These thoughts were dangerous, blasphemous, and you tried to bury them. But they had already taken root.

Your reflection was broken by the splash of something warm against your skin and applause that rippled through the crowd. Your senses snapped into focus, and you saw where you stood: the red square. Such a lovely place most days of the year, yet on days like today, bearing grim weights of tradition.

Before you lay a woman’s body, her head severed and resting at the base of a stone table. The table was stained with layers of sacrifice: black, brown, and the fresh crimson of her blood. Her hair, once long and red, was cut in two—strands still clinging to her head, framing her lifeless eyes, and another resting softly against her back, swaying in the breeze.

It was Gift Giving Day.

On paper, the celebration was a joyful offering of thanks to the gods for protection, for fertile harvests, for mercy from disasters. In truth, it demanded a human life, and however you looked at it, you could not find peace in it.

The Shepherd’s voice boomed across the square, smooth and commanding. "My dear children, my fleecelings… another good harvest is upon us! We thank the gods for welcoming Karolina into their kingdom and for keeping us safe…”

You forced yourself to listen, masking your unease with a polite smile. He was a good man, wasn’t he? He stayed among the people, with the guidance of selflessness your mother so often spoke of. He loved your mother when they were all younger, but he took on the mantle of leadership because his people needed him, allowing your mother to be given to another. Yet was that ever truly a thought of your own? Or had it been drummed into you since you had gained a sense to understand it?

When you’re branded as part of the flock from childhood, perhaps it’s easier to believe the brand is part of you as an adult.

"... As for next year's gift," the Shepherd went on to say, "I plead with the ewes and wetherlings to come forth for the choosing!"

You stepped forward alongside others your age, the motion automatic, your breaths shallow. A part of you yearned to be chosen, to end the cycle of watching others die year after year. But fate was neither kind nor cruel—merely indifferent.

"Fyodor! My dear boy, come forth!"

The same fate fell, by a flick of an eye, on a dark haired and paled skinned boy. Fyodor had always seemed distant, as though he existed in a world apart, he rarely spoke, his expression unreadable, his eyes unfocused. His frail body could barely wield an axe, unlike the other boys. Yet now, a faint smile graced his lips as he stepped forward to accept the flower crown from the Shepherd.

You clapped along with the crowd, your forced smile hiding the churn of emotions in your chest. You hadn’t spoken much with Fyodor, but you didn’t want him—or anyone—to meet this fate. Yet the community’s expectations weighed heavy, and you were one person, too insignificant, to defy them.

---

Bath time—a sacred ritual in your home. It was a communal act where you sat shoulder to shoulder in the steaming water, exchanging quiet words with your neighbors and washing one another. It was meant to cultivate unity and cohesion, a sense of belonging. No one felt shame; the sight of everyone bare before each other was considered a blessing, a return to innocence as God had intended. It symbolized the absolution of the first sin—disobedience—and the renunciation of shame and knowledge of good and evil.

The bathhouse was vast, its walls lined with mosaics of the pale man, the lamb, and the wolf. Light poured through the domed glass ceiling, fracturing into kaleidoscopic patterns on the marble floors and casting the room in a serene glow. It was a cocoon of peace, but you found no solace in it. You sat in the water, apart from the muted hum of conversation around you, their words blurred together, echoing faintly, as your thoughts churned. Someone else would soon be sacrificed. Fyodor. How much weaker would his fasting leave him? How frail would his already frail body turn? The questions weighed heavy on your mind.

You cupped your hands, splashing the salted water onto your face in an effort to shake yourself loose from your thoughts. The warmth of the bath should have soothed you, but instead, it only managed to heighten the restless ache in your chest.

“(Y/N)…” A voice, quiet and almost gentle, pulled you out of your reverie. The gentle ripples in the water announced his approach before his words did. You didn’t need to turn to know who it was. Slowly, you glanced over your shoulder to meet sharp, dark eyes—Fyodor’s eyes. There was something magnetic about him, an allure that transcended his frail appearance. Perhaps it was his intellect, the spark of something greater that placed him at the forefront of the Gift Giving list. He could have been a leader, you thought, had he not been chosen to die so young.

“May I help with your back?” he asked, his voice soft but steady.

You nodded, a quiet hum of approval escaping your lips. It wasn’t unheard of for people to help one another wash, but it should have been the other way around. Fyodor, as the sacred fleece, was the one meant to be tended to, venerated. People would clamor for the chance to serve him, yet here he was, offering to serve you. The gesture struck you as strange, even kind. Perhaps you had misjudged him. Maybe he didn’t dislike you, as you’d once thought. Maybe you were simply two people who had never truly known one another.

His hand settled lightly on your shoulder, steadying you as he began brushing your back. His touch was soft, almost hesitant, yet firm enough to create a sharp contrast with the roughness of the bristles. The juxtaposition brought you back to your thoughts, unbidden questions rising to the surface. Why was he doing this? Why you? You were just another lamb in the flock, no more significant than the others waiting their turn for slaughter. Did anyone matter in the grand scheme of things?

“You flinched today,” Fyodor murmured, his voice cutting through the quiet. “During the prayer.”

He was right. When the axe fell, you’d instinctively closed your eyes, to shut yourself from the scene. You hadn’t realized anyone had noticed it. The memory brought a flush of heat to your cheeks, and the oppressive warmth of the bath made it hard to breathe.

“I didn’t mean to,” you whispered, shame creeping into your voice. “It’s just… it felt wrong. Celebrating this.” The words were out before you could stop them. Panic flared—what if he took this to the Shepherd or the Judge?

“Then you’re not as blind as the rest of them,” he said, his tone gentle, almost coaxing. His focus seemed more on his task than on your confession, but his words seemed to be more substantial, as if he held you in place. Your throat tightened, you could not vomit nor gulp down your words. “Do you really believe this is what the gods want?” Fyodor continued, his voice barely more than a whisper. “That spilling blood will make the crops grow, or keep the storms at bay?”

“It’s what we’ve been taught,” you replied, your voice trembling. “It’s what… everyone believes.” You wanted to defend your words, but they rang hollow even to your own ears.

“That may be what they believe,” he murmured, leaning closer, his hair brushed against your shoulder, his breath ghosting against the skin of your neck. “But not you. You see the sickness in this system, don’t you? You’ve felt it all your life but were too afraid to name it. Did you notice the storm last year, after the sacrifice? The gods didn’t seem pleased, did they?” He pulled back slightly, resuming his gentle strokes with the brush. His words were heresy, yet in his tone lay no fidgets, no show of discomfiture; quiet, almost serene.

You stared at the rippling water, your fingers now wrinkled and pruned. “I’ve noticed… things,” you admitted, the words soft, hesitant.

Fyodor hummed low in his throat, the sound more content than accusatory. “Good,” he said simply. His words wrapped around you like the steam rising from the bath, invasive yet oddly comforting. To the others in the room, it was nothing more than a simple act of communal care. But for Fyodor, it was something far more deliberate.

His gaze flickered briefly toward the Shepherd, visible through the mosaic-glass walls, speaking with a small cluster of elders. Fyodor leaned closer, his breath ghosting over your shoulder once more. “He watches you sometimes,” Fyodor murmured, his tone thoughtful, the words slipping into your mind like a dagger “I wonder why. It’s as if he’s searching for something.” You blinked, startled by the observation. Had you noticed? Maybe. There had been moments, fleeting and strange, when his gaze seemed heavier than it should have been. But no—no, it couldn’t mean anything. You didn't reply and tried to dismiss it—tried to bury the unease rising in your chest. His words, like everything else he said, felt both dangerous and true.

The last sentences words lingered, like a noose in the air, as Fyodor quietly tended to your back.

---

It is tradition for the sacred fleece to be adored for the year. The chosen family is granted elevated status, moved to a new living space overseen by the Sheppard and Judge. Being selected as an offering is considered the highest honor, and the community celebrates it with fervor, but Fyodor saw it differently. He recognized long ago the sacrifice’s true purpose: It kept the population docile and loyal because of fear and conditioning.

My taciturn had tipped them off, he thought bitterly. Perhaps if I seemed more brain-washed, then they wouldn’t have chosen me.

The selection, he knew, was rarely random. It was political, targeting those who dared to think too freely or challenge the system in subtle, unsettling ways. He despised their hypocrisy—the cunning way they cloaked control in the guise of divine will, using fear of the gods to tighten their grip over the community. But perhaps it was the only way to keep people from turning away.

As for you, the thought of the sacrifice made your skin crawl. Your hair stood on end every time it was discussed, and your chest settled in a place of deep discomfort. But you never voiced your doubts. The community seemed so content, so pios. Surely, it was you who was wrong. Surely, you needed to be reformed.

Days turned into weeks as you found yourself looking at Fyodor differently. Something lingered in your mind—an ache, almost a longing. You remembered the way he spoke that day in the bathhouse, his words sounding like echoes that refused to fade. He understood something about you, about the restlessness you couldn’t name. Soon, though, he would be gone, sacrificed in a few months’ time. He was the only one who had ever made you feel less lonely, and now he would be lost, like so many others before him. The loneliness this thought stirred in you was deep and unshakeable.

You couldn’t help but cast lingering glances in his direction, hoping—foolishly, perhaps—that he would catch your eye and say something to you again. But he never did. At the next community feast, the monthly celebration following days of fasting, you stole another sidelong look at him. He was seated with his family at the center table, each of them adorned in flower crowns crafted by you and the others in the village.

Fyodor wore the one you had made, the only one woven with cornflowers. The blue-purple hue complemented his eyes, a detail you had noticed while weaving it. You didn’t realize you were staring until his gaze met yours. His gentle smile, soft and welcoming, sent your heart stuttering. You returned a small, hesitant smile before quickly looking back at your plate.

You didn’t want to think about his death. A year could pass so quickly, slipping through your fingers before you even realized it.

The soft clatter of plates echoed in the grand dining hall was a far cry from the cheerful celebration that had filled it hours ago. The other young women and men hummed and chattered as they worked, their hands moving in a practiced rhythm. You, however, labored in relative silence, a heaven in the monotony of it. Each swipe of the cloth, each stack of plates, served to dull the noise in your head—if only for a moment.

But the reprieve was short-lived.

“You made this one, didn’t you?”

The voice, low and unmistakably familiar, startled you. You whipped around to find Fyodor standing right behind you, holding the wreath of flowers between his slender fingers. The cornflowers stood out against the pale hue of his hands, the same way they had against his dark hair and fair skin earlier.

Your heart quickened. “I—I did,” you stuttered, not quite knowing what to say.

His smile deepened, soft but deliberate. “It’s beautiful. The craftsmanship is… meticulous.” He turned the crown gently in his hands, as if admiring its every petal and weave. “You’ve a gift for creation, I see.”

You felt yet again a suffocating heat rise to your cheeks at his praise, and you quickly looked down at the plates you were drying. “It’s nothing, really. Just something small. Anyone could have done it.”

“But they didn’t,” he countered, his tone smooth and confident. “You did. And it shows.” You bit the inside of your cheek, unsure how to respond. Compliments were not uncommon in the village, but something about the way Fyodor spoke to you felt different—personal, intentional. “May I help?” he asked, gesturing to the plates.

You blinked at him, confused. “You shouldn’t… You’re the sacred fleece. It wouldn’t be proper.”

“Proper,” he repeated, his smile faltering for a moment as his eyes darkened. “I tire of what’s ‘proper.’ Surely it wouldn’t offend the gods for me to lend a hand, would it?”

You hesitated, unsure whether to agree. But he didn’t wait for your answer, stepping closer and picking up a damp cloth. His movements were slow and deliberate, as though testing the boundaries of this small rebellion. The two of you worked in silence for a moment, the air between you charged with an unspoken tension. Finally, he broke it.

“Do you ever wonder,” he began, his voice low enough that only you could hear, “why we fast before we feast? Why we deprive ourselves, only to indulge?”

You glanced at him, taken aback by the question. “It’s… to show devotion. To the gods.”

He hummed thoughtfully, as though weighing his decision by your words. “Devotion,” he repeated. “It’s a curious thing, isn’t it? How easily it can be mistaken for fear.” His words sent a shiver down your spine. You glanced around, suddenly aware of how close he was standing, of how his voice seemed to put you in a trance.

“I don’t understand what you mean,” you said, though the slight tremor in your voice betrayed you, you knew exactly what he was talking about.

He paused, setting down the cloth and turning to face you fully. “Perhaps you do,” he murmured, his gaze piercing. “Or perhaps you will, in time.” For a moment, neither of you said a word. The sounds of the other people cleaning seemed to fade into the background, leaving only the heavy weight of his words hanging in the air between you, pulling you under and drowning you.

“You have a gift,” he said finally, his voice soft but firm. “Not just for making flower crowns or weaving cloth. You see things others don’t. You feel things we’ve been taught to ignore.” You opened your mouth to respond, but no words came. Instead, you found yourself looking into his eyes, searching for some hint of what he meant, of what he saw in you. “I only hope,” he continued, his tone barely less wistful, “that when the time does come, you’ll trust what you see—and trust me.”

Before you could respond, one of the older women called you for help with the larger platters, breaking the moment. Fyodor stepped back, the faintest smile playing on his lips as he bowed his head slightly.

“Good night, (Y/N),” he said, his voice carrying a warmth that lingered even after he turned and walked away.

You stood there for a moment, clutching the cloth in your hands, your mind aflame. His words echoed in your ears, stirring a very strange mix of fear and hope. Trust what you see. Trust me.

---

For the next few nights, sleep eluded you. Fyodor’s words replayed in your mind over and over again, each phrase eating away all other thoughts. His certainty disturbed you—not because you doubted his sincerity, but because it awoke something within you. The realization was almost too heavy to bear: if you wanted change, you would have to reach for it yourself. But how could you, alone?

When the message came—a whispered request to meet him in the forest clearing—a thrill stirred uneasily in your chest. It wasn’t proper to meet him like this, not when he was supposed to be praying and meditating in solitude as part of his sacred duties. But propriety seemed increasingly irrelevant at this point.

The moonlight bathed the clearing, lending a ghostly glow to the figure who awaited you, it seemed almost surreal. Fyodor stood at the center, his white garments clinging to his frail frame, his flesh paler than usual—proof of the toll fasting had taken. You did not know where his kosovorotka ended and where his skin started. He turned as you approached, a weary soft smile oozed onto his lips.

“You came,” he murmured, his voice carrying a quiet warmth that made the hair on your arms quiver.

You stopped a few feet away, uncertain of how close was too close. “You asked,” you replied softly. “I… couldn’t refuse.”

His smile widened slightly, though his amethyst eyes glinted with something deeper, sharper. “You’ve been restless,” he said, more a statement than a question. “Our last conversation... it’s been weighing on you.”

You hesitated, unsure how much to reveal. “I’ve been… thinking,” you admitted. “About what you said. About… everything.”

“Good,” he said simply, taking a step closer. “That’s the first step—thinking. But thinking alone won’t change anything.”

Your breath hitched. “And what would? What can I do? I’m just one person.”

“So am I,” he countered, his tone firm yet kind. “But together, we’re more.”

You frowned, searching his face for some hint of what he meant. He met your gaze unflinchingly, his eyes piercing through your uncertainty. “I know the way,” he said, his voice low and steady, each word a promise. “Let me show you. And we can cleanse them together.”

His last word echoed in your mind: together. He wanted you to help him. To stand by his side in this unthinkable mission. He wanted to make the community a better place—to rid it of the Gift Giving Day and its sacrifices. It was what you had secretly longed for, what you had thought impossible. Yet hearing it spoken aloud felt like standing on the edge of a precipice.

“Fyodor…” you murmured, your voice barely audible. His gaze held yours, firm, almost devouring. “How… how do you plan to do this? With only the two of us?”

He smiled weakly, as though he’d expected the question. “Trust is a luxury few can afford,” he said. “Especially in this place, under these circumstances. But you—” he paused, studying your face intently, “—you don’t realize it yet, do you? You’re different from the rest of them. You see the cracks in their perfect little world. That’s why I chose you.”

Your heart was racing from his words. "Why me?" you whispered.

His expression softened, and he reached for your hand. Slowly, deliberately, he turned it over, tracing the lines of your palm with a fingertip. The touch was featherlight, yet it sent an electric jolt through you. “This,” he murmured, his voice low and contemplative, “is the hand of someone who wants to save the people.”

Your breath caught in your throat, and you couldn’t bring yourself to pull away. He lifted his own hand, pressing his palm to yours, as though comparing them. “We are the same,” he said softly, his voice carrying the weight of conviction. “We want to make a change—for the betterment of our community.”

His fingers laced through yours, and he gave your hand a gentle squeeze. The intimacy of the gesture, the way his eyes searched yours for an answer, left you breathless. “You’re right,” you whispered, barely able to meet his gaze. “We are alike.”

His smile returned, softer this time, but no less determined. “Do you trust me?”

You hesitated, the weight of the moment pushing down on you. But as his words, his presence, filled the silence between you, something inside you shifted. “I trust you, Fyodor,” you finally said, your voice steady though a tempest swirled in your chest.

His smile deepened, and he squeezed your hand again, as though sealing an unspoken pact. “Good,” he said, so plainly.

---

Winter

Every great plan has steps, though Fyodor felt the need to gradually explain everything, taking one baby step at a time—his words, not yours. The first step was simple, really. He wanted to show the people that the doctrines and preaches of the Sheppard and Judge were nothing but empty words. They were fundamental to this community, to the ‘salvation’ of the people, yet they didn’t walk the path they preached, and certainly, they didn’t know every word by heart—again, Fyodor’s words.

A part of you was still unsure, still clinging to the belief that the larger community was right, and maybe, just maybe, you and Fyodor were the just outsiders. Maybe we are wrong. But every time Fyodor spoke, that doubt felt more and more remote, buried under the weight of his unwavering certainty. “Those are the words they use to control us,” he had said, quietly but with sharpness in his voice. “They preach salvation, but they never walk the path they claim to, do they?” There was something unmistakable in the way he said it, a quiet accusation that seemed to grow louder with each passing day.

You didn’t speak at first, but a part of you—one that had always questioned, always wondered—began to listen. Perhaps he was right. Perhaps the things you’d been taught, the things you’d always believed, weren’t what they seemed.

Fyodor’s plan was simple, almost too simple. He would subtly distract the Sheppard during the church service, while you sneaked away before the sermon to rip a few pages from the tome the leader was meant to preach from. Disarm him of his words, Fyodor had said. It wouldn’t hurt anyone—not directly. And if Fyodor was wrong, if the Sheppard did indeed know the words in the book by heart, then perhaps you could walk this path of reform together. You could still fix everything. You could undo what had been broken.

The weight of the plan pressed down on your chest as you quietly took the pages from the tome, the paper crinkling beneath your fingers. You slipped them into the pocket your heart racing. The deed was done, and you weren’t quite sure if it was a victory or a betrayal. You felt that familiar pull of doubt claw at your insides, but Fyodor’s steady presence beside was enough to slightly anchor you to the present. We’re doing the right thing, his eyes seemed to say every time they met yours.

When you sat down beside him on the pew, you didn’t even realize how tightly you were pressed against his side. You were still tense, the guilt from what you’d just done gnawing at you, your chest burned — oh how you wish you could burn everything down and not have to bear the weight of your actions. Fyodor didn’t say a word. He merely let you lean into him, his silence an unsaid reassurance. He knew you were ill at ease, but he didn’t push you, never urged you towards speech. The sermon started, and your mind wandered right back to the missing pages, your stomach tight with the knowledge that the Sheppard would notice soon.

As the Sheppard reached the point where the pages should have been, you saw the flicker of panic in his eyes. He faltered for only a second, but it was enough. His smooth composure cracked down like a Prince Rupert's drop, and he tried to cover it up, but you could see it—could see him struggling to maintain control in front of his congregation. Your stomach dropped, the tension in the room thickening.

Fyodor sat beside you, still and calm. You caught in his eye the faintest glint of satisfaction, something darker behind the quiet pride. The faintest hint of triumph danced in his expression, as if this was only the beginning. “See how fragile the illusion was?” His voice was low, barely a whisper “How quickly it falls when you expose their lies.”

You couldn’t help but glance at him, his words ringing in your head. Was it really an illusion? The Sheppard had looked so untouchable—so sure of himself. You had never dared to question his authority, never thought to doubt the very bedrock of your faith. But now, as Fyodor’s gaze met yours, you wondered if maybe—just maybe—the world had been built on nothing more than lies.

Your heart beat loudly in your chest, the weight of what you’d done sinking in. This wasn’t just a small step anymore. You had helped tear down something sacred, something people had built their lives upon. And yet, Fyodor's presence beside you steadied your resolve, as if his belief in this mission was enough to carry you through the uncertainty.

---

Spring

Vernal came as a season of ephemeral promise of renewal, the fields suddenly bursting with color and air alive with the pulse of warmth. The community prepared for the flower dance, a sacred tradition meant to honor the gods for favors received during in the harsh winter and reaffirm their devotion. The villager folk adorned themselves with garlands of freshly plucked flowers, their laughter echoing in the air as they wove intricate crowns and looped floral chains around their wrists.

You, too, wore a crown—a delicate circle of violets and daisies that your friends had insisted you wear. It felt heavier than it should, its vibrant beauty clashing with the weight of your thoughts. For tonight, Fyodor had chosen the next step in your shared quest. The supply house, a monument to what the leaders took from and doled back out to the people, was to burn under the cover of darkness. But for now, you stood amidst the celebration, caught between the life you knew and the path you had begun to walk with him.

The dancing of flowers began at twilight, when the village square glowed with the light of torches and the Shepherd and Judge took their seats on an raised wooden platform. They watched the revelry unfold with expressions of practiced benevolence, their presence a subtle reminder of the community's rigid structure. The dancers, linked hand in hand, moved in concentric circles, their feet beating a steady rhythm against the ground. The steps were simple yet hypnotic, a weaving of bodies and flowers that seemed to pull the onlookers into its spell.

You joined the outermost circle, your hand clasped tightly in a neighbor’s, but your eyes strayed to Fyodor. He lingered on the edges of the crowd, a wraith in white. Even if he wanted to join he couldn't, the physical strain the dance had on the body was too much for his condition, leaving him lightheaded and prone to fainting. He watched the leaders with barely concealed contempt. But when his gaze met yours, something softened in his expression. He inclined his head slightly, a wordless reminder of the task ahead.

Your feet flared for one short second, breaking the rhythm of the dance for the briefest moment. The woman beside you glanced at you in concern, but you got your footing back, forcing a smile as your heart pounded in your chest. Fyodor’s eyes stayed on you for a second longer before he slipped away into the shadows.

When the dance ended and the villagers started to scatter, Fyodor found you near the edge of the square. He didn’t speak at first, his presence a quiet anchor amidst the revelry. It wasn’t until the distant sound of the Judge’s laughter reached your ears that he finally said, “Do you see how they watch us? How they bask in their power, even as they pretend to celebrate with us?”

You looked toward the platform where the Shepherd and Judge still sat, their eyes sweeping over the dispersing crowd like hawks watching their prey. The unease you had felt all evening finally bubbled to the top, but you nodded. “Yes,” you murmured, your voice barely audible.

Fyodor stepped closer, his voice low and deliberate. “They control everything—what we eat, what we believe, even how we dance. Tonight, we take that control away from them. It’s a small step, but it’s necessary.”

His words wrapped around you like a shroud, silencing the part of you that still hesitated. “But the people…” you began, your voice faltering. “The supplies… won’t they suffer?”

Fyodor’s expression softened, and for a moment, you thought you saw genuine compassion in his eyes. “Yes,” he admitted. “But sometimes, suffering is the only way to wake people from their complacency. They need to see that their leaders cannot protect them, that the gods they worship are powerless to stop what’s coming.”

He reached out, his fingers brushing against yours in a fleeting touch. “Trust me. It is essential...”

As the echoes of laughter and music faded into the night, you slipped away with Fyodor, hearts pounding in tandem with the thrill of what was to come—and the weight of what it meant. The storage cabin loomed ahead, limned by the moonlight on its wooden frame. It seemed almost alive, a sentinel of the community’s lifeblood, and your hesitation felt like a betrayal of its quiet presence. But you pressed on, following Fyodor’s unwavering lead.

Inside, the air was heavy with the scent of dried grass and stored grain. You worked in tense silence, stuffing chaff into corners, cramming the cracks of the small room with anything that would catch quickly. Your hands moved on autopilot, though every movement screamed at you to stop. This would hurt people. Families. Yet each time doubt clawed its way to the surface, you’d glance at Fyodor—his calm, his resolve, his quiet conviction—and something in you would steady, if only for a moment.

When the cabin was filled with enough tinder to guarantee its destruction, Fyodor stepped back, surveying the space with a critical eye. His gaze landed on you, and he lingered, a strange warmth flickering in his expression despite the coldness of the act. He struck a match, the hiss of ignition startling in the silent room.

His eyes met yours, the flame dancing shadows over his keen features. “This is necessary,” he murmured, as much to himself as to you.

He held the match a moment too long, its light trembling between his fingers before he let it drop. The fire caught immediately, spreading with an unnatural greed, and you flinched as the heat licked at your skin. Fyodor didn’t flinch. He grabbed your hand and led you out swiftly, his grip firm but not unkind.

You emerged into the cool night, the smell of smoke chasing after you. By the time the fire fully took, you were standing among your families and neighbors, blending into the crowd as if you had nothing to hide. The cabin was an inferno, flames twisting and writhing against the dark sky. The air was filled with the acrid scent of burning supplies and the muted gasps of your fellow villagers.

You watched the fire burn, your heart heavy and your stomach twisting with guilt. What had you done? How many would go hungry now? Would they blame you—if only they knew—or the gods?

The Shepherd and Judge stood before the crowd, their faces masks of authority as they did their best to placate the people. The Shepherd’s voice rang out, promising reassurance, spinning stories of divine testing and unshaken faith. But his words fell flat. You could see it in the eyes of the villagers—fear, not of the leaders, but of their helplessness. If the Shepherd and Judge couldn’t protect them, if the gods they worshipped demanded so much yet gave so little… what was left for them?

Beside you, Fyodor’s expression remained composed, his features illuminated by the flickering glow of the flames. Yet, as the fire crackled and the crowd’s uneasy murmurs grew, he turned slightly toward you, his voice low, intimate. "This... it couldn’t have happened without you.” His gaze met yours, steady and intent, as if he could see the storm of emotions roiling within you. The faintest trace of a smile tugged at the corners of his lips—not smug, but almost tender. His hand brushed against yours briefly, the touch grounding in its subtlety.

“You were brave,” he murmured, his voice carrying an almost dangerous sincerity. “More than anyone else here. They’re still trapped, still blind. But...—"

"...—We will show them the light" You softly cut him off. He smiled gently, his hand brushed lightly against yours once more—so fleeting it could almost be imagined—yet it stayed you in ways words couldn't.

The crowd began to murmur, uncertainty rolling through them like a restless tide. The Shepherd barked orders to his Judge, but there was a crack in his commanding tone, a tremor that betrayed his fear. He was losing control, and everyone could feel it.

You looked back at the fire, the embers glowing like distant stars, and for a moment, you allowed yourself to believe that this was more than destruction. Perhaps it was the start of something new.

---

Summer

You had come so far, yet progress felt agonizingly elusive. Each act you and Fyodor committed against the cult chipped away at the illusion of its sanctity, but the larger structure stood resolute. Fyodor’s sacrifice loomed just two weeks away, a date you couldn’t ignore no matter how hard you tried. Every mention of Gift Giving Day wrapped a tight coil of dread around you.

It couldn’t end this way. Not after everything.

Desperation drove you to find Fyodor one sultry summer night. You found him beneath the canopy of an old willow, his slender form outlined by the moonlight. He turned at your approach, his amethyst gaze softening when it met yours. “We’ve done so much,” you murmured, your voice trembling as your fingers twisted the fabric of your garments. “And it’s still not enough. I... I don’t want to see you go.”

Fyodor studied you for a moment, his expression unreadable, before stepping closer. His hands, delicate yet firm, reached for your chin, tilting your face toward him. “It will be okay,” he said, his voice steady but laced with something softer, almost tender. “I’ve prepared something for us. One last step to free everyone. I will not abandon you, dearest.” His thumb stroked your cheek, sending a shiver through you. “You have no idea how precious you are—not just to me, but to this cause. I won’t let anyone, or anything, take that from us.”

His words wrapped around you, both a balm and a tether, as he revealed the final phase of his plan: the elimination of the cult’s leaders. For the betterment of the community: They must fall

You choked on your own saliva, pulling away from him, every inch of your body tense. The suggestion felt like a violation of the very ideals you were fighting for. “Are we not doing the same as them?” you argued, your voice cracking under the weight of your conviction. “Taking a life to suit our own needs?”

Fyodor remained composed and patient, though urgency flickered in his tone. “This is not the same,” he said, his voice measured. “They’ve built their power on the lives of others—on fear, manipulation, and blood. This is a small sacrifice to honor those who’ve suffered and to free those who remain shackled.”

His stayed with you, finding cracks in your resolve over the following days. Memories of last season when the shed burnt down, the suffering of the people, their hunger while the Shepherd and Judge indulged in excess, gnawed at you. The weight of time pressed down, and you couldn’t ignore the urgency. With Fyodor’s sacrifice approaching, you found yourself reluctantly agreeing to the plan.

The Shepherd would be the first.

Fyodor, weakened by fasting, lacked the physical strength to carry out the act himself. He guided your trembling hands to the axe’s handle, his voice low and encouraging. “Do it for them. For their salvation. You’ll see—it’s the only way.”

It was a chilly quiet night.

The Shepherd’s chambers were dark, thick air with the scent of wine and old parchments. Fyodor stood outside, his figure barely visible through the crack in the door as you stepped inside with the axe concealed behind you. The Shepherd sat slumped in a wooden chair, a half-empty goblet of wine swaying in his hand.

“Ah, child,” he slurred, his gaze fighting to focus on you. “What brings you here at this hour? Troubles of the soul?”

You nodded, your throat dry. “I... I needed to confess something. To speak with you alone.”

He waved his hand lazily, gesturing for you to approach. “Then speak, my child. The Shepherd is always here to guide his flock.”

As you inched closer, the axe hidden behind your back, he rambled on, his words becoming less and less coherent. Then, suddenly, his tone changed. “Do you know,” he began, his voice slurred with wine, “that I’m your true father?”

Your heart went cold, and you nearly let the axe fall from your grasp.

He let out a bitter chuckle and reached for another drink. “Left you with that fool, your mother’s husband. Had no time to raise a child when the gods demanded my service. But I suppose it’s all... come full circle.” Shock seized you where you stood, the metal felt impossibly heavy in your hands as his words echoed in your ears. He was your father? The man whose sermons had shaped your entire life? The very leader whose tyranny you sought to destroy?

He rambled on, his words grew softer until he nodded his head forward, asleep in his chair. The room fell silent except for your ragged breaths. When Fyodor entered, sensing your hesitation, his sharp gaze darted between you and the sleeping Shepherd, and you explained the situation in a whisper. And for the first time ever, you saw something like surprise in his expression, but it hardened quickly into resolve.

“The blood of the covenant is thicker than the water of the womb,” Fyodor whispered, his voice sharp, sharper than what you are used to hearing from him. His words pierced through the haze of your confusion, his presence a cold, steady force grounding you in the suffocating weight of the moment. “He may have fathered you, but he abandoned that role long ago. He is as valuable to this world as a walking corpse.”

You swallowed hard, your throat dry and aching. “But he—he’s my blood. What if he—”

Fyodor stepped closer to you, his hands hovering just above yours as you clutched the axe. “He has taken everything from you, from us, from them,” he murmured, his voice softening just enough to feel personal. “Do you want to go back to being their lamb, waiting to be slaughtered? Is that the life you choose after everything we’ve done?” He gestured to the sleeping man before you, his voice turned urgent, almost desperate. “This is your moment. Take it.”

Your vision blurred with tears, but his words echoed in your mind, warring with the voice that screamed against this violence. The axe trembled in your hands, its weight unbearable. The man before you, your supposed father, lay slumped in his chair, wholly unaware of the maelstrom raging in your heart. You tightened your grip, breathing shallow and rapid. The room seemed to tilt around you, the seconds crawling into eons while the world narrowed to the rise and fall of his chest and the chilling presence of Fyodor at your side. Slowly, you raised the axe, tears streaking your face.

When you brought it down, the impact reverberated through your entire body, a sickening crack filling the room. You gasped, stumbling back as the Shepherd slumped forward, lifeless. The silence that followed was deafening, your breaths ragged and uneven as you stared at your blood-stained hands. The axe slipped from your grasp, clattering to the floor. You turned to Fyodor, your legs trembling beneath you. “I... I...” Words failed you as sobs overtook your body.

Fyodor stepped forward, his arms encircling you in an embrace that was unexpectedly warm and steady. You buried your face against his chest, shaking uncontrollably. “Shh,” he murmured, his voice softer than you’d ever heard. His hands rubbed soothing circles against your back. “You’ve done so well. It’s over now. It’s over.”

But it wasn’t over. The next morning, they found the Shepherd’s body. You hadn’t even tried to hide it. You didn’t care. All you could think about was the blood on your hands and the look on his face before you swung the axe. The Shepherd’s death sent shockwaves through the community. Whispers spread like wildfire, murmurs of unease weaving through the congregation. The Judge, desperate to maintain his grip, moved Gift Giving Day closer, hoping to reassert control. But the cracks were already visible. The people’s faith in their leaders, once unshakable, had begun to unravel.

As the day of the ritual arrived, the air was thick with tension. Fyodor knelt in the red square, his frame frail from fasting but his presence unyielding. The Judge stood behind him, addressing the crowd with fervor that bordered on hysteria. His voice thundered over the square, but there was a desperation in his tone, a fragility beneath the surface.

You stood hidden among the throng, the weight of the axe once again heavy in your hands. Every step forward felt like wading through quicksand. Your mind raced, the memory of the Shepherd’s death haunting you with every heartbeat. The crowd swayed, their heads bowed in solemn reverence as the Judge raised his arms, calling for unity and sacrifice.

This was it.

Your breath hitched as you stepped out of the shadows, weaving through the congregation. Nobody noticed you at first, your movements swallowed by the sheer number of bodies. The closer you came, the louder the Judge’s voice grew, his words grating against your ears. Finally, you stood behind him, so close you could hear the strain in his breathing. Your fingers tightened around the axe, your pulse roaring in your ears. The world seemed to hold its breath as you raised the weapon, the weight of the moment bearing down on you.

With a swift motion, you brought the axe down, lodging it into the back of his neck. The sound of steel meeting flesh was sickening, a visceral, wet crunch that silenced the square. Blood sprayed in a gruesome arc as the Judge lurched forward, collapsing onto the stone table. His body twitched once, then stilled, his voice silenced forever. The crowd erupted in chaos, gasps and cries rippling through the congregation. For a moment, you stood frozen, the bloodied axe still clutched in your hands, your heart pounding so hard you thought it might break free through your ribcage.

Then, Fyodor rose.

Despite his weakened frame, he exuded an aura of quiet authority, his voice cutting through the panic like a blade. “The gods have spoken,” he declared, his tone calm yet commanding. “The leaders were corrupt. Their reign is over.” The crowd fell silent, their fear and confusion turning to awe as Fyodor stepped forward. His gaze swept over the congregation, landing briefly on you before returning to the people. He extended a hand, beckoning for you to stand beside him. “We have seen the truth” he continued, his voice rich with conviction. “And together, we shall guide you to the promised salvation.”

The people’s eyes pierced into your very soul, their expressions a mix of hope and uncertainty. Fyodor took your hand in his, the gesture both possessive and protective, grounding you yet again in the storm of emotions swirling inside you.

---

The air was heavy with the scent of incense and the faint metallic tang of blood, the detritus of the chaos that had led to this moment. The congregation outside still whispered Fyodor’s name with a mix of awe and fear, their voices carried by the wind into the quiet chamber. The room was dim, lit only by the flickering glow of a solitary candle, its light casting a long shadow across the newly ordained leaders of the flock.

You sat on the edge of a plain wooden bench, the ceremonial white garment draped over your frame feeling heavier than any armor. Its pristine folds were a cruel irony against the weight of your sins. Fyodor stood before you, his dark attire stark against the pale hues of your robes. The intricate wolf motif embroidered into his cloak seemed to ripple with life in the wavering candlelight, a predator looming over its prey.

He stepped closer, the movement slow and deliberate. His pale hand reached out, brushing a stray lock of hair from your face with a gentleness that felt both comforting and unnerving. His eyes, sharp and unyielding, softened for a moment as he looked down at you. “You’ve been my strength through this,” he murmured, his voice as smooth as silk yet edged with something darker. “I couldn’t have done it without you.”

You leaned into his touch, seeking peace in the familiarity of his presence despite the emotions roiling inside you. His lips brushed your forehead, the gesture lingering—an offering of comfort, yet unmistakably possessive. It was as if he claimed you in that kiss, silently binding you to him in a way that words never could.

As his arms encircled you, a shard of the Pale Man’s tale drifted to the surface of his mind. The wolf protects the lamb not out of kindness, but because he cannot bear to let anyone else devour her. Fyodor’s thoughts mirrored that very sentiment as he held you close, his expression almost content. To him, you were no mere lamb to be devoured by others; you were his lamb, precious and irreplaceable. The world could burn, the gods themselves could fall silent, but he would not let you go.

You closed your eyes, resting your head against his chest. The beat of his heart was steady, grounding, but it did little to soothe the ache within your own. You had survived, yes. Together, you had dismantled the foundations of this twisted faith. Yet, as Fyodor stood poised to guide the cult into a new era, the sin staining your hands felt like it would never wash away.

When the murmurs of the crowd grew louder, Fyodor pulled away, his hand lingering on your shoulder. “It’s time,” he said, his voice commanding yet calm. He turned to his right, with that inky mantle billowing out behind him as he moved to address your people. You followed, your white garments out of place on the dark path before you. The symbolism was unmistakable: the wolf and the lamb, stepping out as one. As Fyodor ascended the steps of the altar, his gaze swept over the gathered flock. “The gods have chosen us,” he declared, his voice cutting through the air like a blade. “Together, we will lead you to salvation.”

The people bowed their heads, their faith in their new leaders palpable despite the lingering unease in the air. You stood beside him, the vision of purity and sacrifice, your presence cementing the narrative he wove so expertly. As Fyodor raised his hands to the sky, the crowd chanted his and your name. You couldn’t help but glance at him, his sharp features illuminated by the flickering torchlight. Despite everything, a small, bitter smile tugged at the corner of your lips.

Finally, the wolf and the lamb had found their place at last. But at what cost?

#bsd #bsd fyodor #bsd fyodor dostoevsky #bungou stray dogs #fyodor bsd #bungo stray dogs fyodor #bsd fyodor x reader #fyodor x reader #fyodor x y/n

74 notes · View notes

wangxianficfinder · 11 months ago

Text

In the mood for...

Jan 16th

LINK LIMIT REACHED (please look in replies for more recs ^^)

~*~

1. Hello, looking for fics that discuss or focus around wy being in a different body and yeah kinda just focused around that. thanks!

the soft animal by cafecliche (T, 5k, wangxian, Hurt/Comfort, Post-Canon, the physicality of moving on: the fic, LWJ is the best husband, Podfic Available, (the presence of) MXY, and a whole bunch of Baby Lans)

a better world by ilip13 (G, 1k, WangXian, Post-Canon, Established Relationship, Slice of Life, Soft WangXian, mild body dysphoria, Hopeful Ending)

a kind of emptiness by ScarlettStorm (E, 11k, WangXian, Post-Canon, Established Relationship, Eating Disorders, Eating Disorder Not Otherwise Specified, Eating Disorder Recovery, low angst, Happy Ending, seriously in spite of the tags this fic is very soft, Tender smut, Frottage, Praise Kink, Additional Warnings In Author's Note)

~*~

2. hopefully something similar to this

thank u!! @/weiwuxianfan34

hunters seeking solid ground by Attila (E, 23k, WangXian, Canon Compliant, discussion of canon character death, Hurt/Comfort, Nightmares, bed sharing, Getting Together, Yearning, Literal Sleeping Together, Really Excessive Amounts of Hurt/Comfort)

~*~

3. Hi, for the next itmf, do you guys have and lwj/wwx/lxc recs? Like with the three of them together in a relationship. It can be cannon era or modern era, I don't really mind either but I would prefer cannon era. Thank you for the help.

our close and kindred ties by exmanhater (E, 41k, WangXianXi, Pregnancy Kink, Incest, almost incest, Post-Canon, Gender Changes, Always a Different Sex, Cunnilingus, Vaginal Sex, Riding, Vaginal Fingering, Established Relationship, Situational Incest Only, POV Outsider, Pregnancy, Family Feels, Fluff, Incest Adjacent, Threesome - F/F/M, Relationship Negotiation, (slight) Pregnancy Kink, Kid Fic, Parenting, Inappropriate Use of Gūsū Lán Forehead Ribbon, Double Penetration, LWJ is a service top, Strap-Ons, Anal Sex, Light Bondage, Light Dom/sub, Restraints, Parenthood) has f!wangxian but otherwise i think it's post-canon-ish setting?

oh we have moved forward in pain by rainbowshoes (E, 47k, WangXianXi, past 3zun, past Niecest, Incest, Post-Betrayal Depression, Severe depressive episodes, Bruises, Bite marks, Consensual sexual injuries, Self harm through sex, self harm ideation, Nightmares, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Excessive Drinking, Canonical Character Death, Grief/Mourning, Scars, Past Child Abuse, implied ace jc, Explicit Sexual Content, Guilt, Canon-verse version of safe-wording out, Canon-verse version of subdrop, Child Abuse, discussion of death and murder, Discussion of wwx’s first time in the burial mounds, Broken Bones, Starvation, eating corpses, Insecurity not-so-accidental child acquisition, Angst with a Happy Ending, Sort Of, Sibling Incest, mix and mash Mashup of cql verse and novel, anti-lqr)

set my soul alight Series by Skadiseven (E, 42k, WangXianXi, Modern AU, Jadecest, Sibling Incest, Toronto, Halloween Costumes, Halloween, Canada, Jade Xianwich, WWX POV, Power Play, LXC POV, Rough Sex, Intercrural Sex, Oral Sex, Anal Sex, Aftercare, Sort Of)

take this weight of mine by soliloqui (E, 84k, WangXianXi, Post-Canon, LXC in Seclusion, Depression, touch starvation, Self-Harm, Suicidal Ideation, Suicide Attempt, PTSD, Panic Attacks, Dissociation, Canon-Typical Violence, Unreliable Narrator, Dual Cultivation, mild fuck-or-die, Mild Consent Issues, please check end notes of chapter 2 for more information, Sibling Incest, Hurt/Comfort, gentle smut, Healing, demisexual LXC, demisexual lwj, Protective LWJ, Protective LXC, Protective WWX, lqr's a++ parenting, Angst with a Happy Ending)

🔒Embers by xantissa (E, 38k, WangXian, XiXian, WangXianXi, Jadecest, Angst, drama, Fluff, Falling In Love, sex pollen trope (curse), dub con, Comfort, Grief, Forgiveness, Happy Ending, Sibling Incest, Switching, Flirting, Learning to live again, Magic, Curses, Everyone is Badass, lwj has a sense of humor, Polyamory, Polyamory Negotiations, Threesome - M/M/M, Slow Burn, Angst and Hurt/Comfort)

🔒Magnificent by Anonymous (E, 36k, WangXianXi, Post-Canon, Sibling Incest, Threesome - M/M/M, Deepthroating, Mutual Masturbation, Nipple Play, Blow Jobs, Jadecest, Light Angst, Past NieLan, Sharing a Bed, Canon Compliant, Top LWJ, Switch LXC, Switch WWX, Spitroasting, Face-Fucking, Come Eating, Snowballing, Facials, Praise Kink, over-stimulation, Ass to Mouth, Intercrural Sex, Laughter During Sex, Rimming, Come as Lube, Magical Healing Cock, i guess, Come play)

给我再去相信的勇气 // the courage to believe by howodd5ever (E, 55k, WangXian, WangXianXi, Threesome - M/M/M, Jadecest, Burial Mounds Settlement Days, Undernegotiated Kink, Choking, Spanking, Dom/sub, Rough Sex, dub con but trust me wei ying is into it, Polyamory, Getting Together, First Times, porn with a tiny bit of plot if you squint, Bottom wwx, bratty WWX, Marks, WWX Has a Breeding Kink, mostly cql canon timeline but otherwise franken-canon, angst but not about the poly stuff, Cockwarming, a little rimming as a treat)

Fraternal Fissures by Foregone_Shadow (E, 33k, Jadecest, WangXianXi, Angst with a Happy Ending, Threesome - M/M/M, Dual Cultivation, Healing Sex, Anal Sex, Anal Fingering, Sibling Incest, Explicit Sexual Content, Possessive Behavior, Possessive Sex, Somnophilia, Reference to relationships between 3zun, POV Alternating, Oral Sex, Rough Oral Sex, Tender Sex, Mentions of Suicidal Thoughts, Care and aftercare, Bondage, dom!lwj, Sub!lxc, Top / Bottom Versatile Characters, LWJ is canonically huge, Size Kink, Porn with Feelings, Porn With Plot, Light BDSM, Voyeurism, Depression, Dubious Consent, LWJ talks dirty, Marathon Sex, switch!WWX, Lots of bathing, gagging, Blindfolds, Inappropriate Use of Gūsū Lán Forehead Ribbon, Belly Kink, Orgasm Denial, Prostate Play)

~*~

4. hello! this is an itmf request. i would love:

A) recs on good case fics - i have a soft spot for those that take place during the cloud recesses study arc, but any and all case fic recs welcome :)

B) recs on de-aging/age regression fics - whether wangxian or other characters. thank you thank you! @/potatokunst

4A)

see you yesterday by glyphic (M, 138k, WIP, WangXian, Modern with Magic, Ghost Hunters, Time Loop, Case Fic, Hurt/Comfort, Memory Loss, Angst with a Happy Ending, Slow Burn) if OP is open to modern AUs

🔒 Wish I could forget the taste of your skin and the feel of your hands pinning me down by KizuKatana (E, 63k, wangxian, WQ & WWX & WN, Modern Cultivation, weapons-grade thirst, Getting Back Together, Trying REALLY hard to not still like your Ex, but failing, BAMF WWX, BAMF LWJ, Canon Divergence, Case Fic, LWJ’s canonically big dick, sort of a ‘thirsting for your co-worker ex’ vibe, it eventually gets worked out, Mutual Pining, Guest-starring LWJ’s canonically poor communication choices after romantic cave encounters, novel canon relationship dynamics, basically this fic is about escalating sexual tension)

🔒 Vagabond by xantissa (E, 65k, wangxian, Slow Burn, Mystery, Anal Sex, Oral Sex, Frottage, Case Fic, murders, Supernatural, Angst, Fluff, those two are so in love it hurts, Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, badass LXC, Canon-Typical Violence, topLWJ, Bottom LWJ)

build me no shrines by occultings (microcomets) (M, 54k, WangXian, Slow Burn, Mutual Pining, First Time, Getting Together, Confessions, Sharing a Bed, Hair Washing, Sentient Burial Mounds, Case Fic, Post-Canon, CQL Compliant, Hurt/Comfort, Whump, Light Angst, Flashbacks, mild body horror, foot washing, Happy Ending, Non-Sexual Intimacy, …then sexual intimacy, [Podfic] build me no shrines by flamingwell)

爱不释手; never let me go by yiqie (E, 68k, WangXian, Case Fic, Blood and Injury, Demons, Body Horror)

in your skin by darkredloveknot (enheduane) (E, 10k, WangXian, Post-Canon, Pre-Relationship, Getting Together, Horror, Body Horror, Blood and Gore, Angst with a Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, Love Confessions, Non-Consensual Body Modification, kinda??, Reflections over death and self-worth, mentions of canon suicide, Near Death Experiences, [Podfic] in your skin by flamingwell)

there was recently a whole event about casefics! Not all of them are wangxian but a lot are so maybe one will catch your interest

💖 I’d be the one to hold you down (kiss you so hard) by AlfAlfAlfAlfAlf & tardigradeschool (E, 85k, wangxian, JGY/LXC, NMJ/LXC, modern, leverage au, canon-typical violence, unhealthy relationships, depression, heists, found family, murder, hurt/comfort, angst w/ happy ending)

🧡 moonlight caught in mutton fat by Raitelzen (T, 45k, WangXian, Case Fic, Curses, Curse Breaking, Transformation, mild body horror, Hurt LWJ, Ghosts)

Your Hand in Mine by cerbykerby (T, 20k, WangXian, Humor, Comedy, Pining, cursed to hold hands, Light Angst, Sharing a Bed, First Dates, Embarrassment, Fluff, bathing together, Canon Compliant)

Linger in the Sun by etymologyplayground (T, 39k, WangXian, JC & WWX, Case Fic, Intimacy, Curses, Canon Compliant, Post-Canon, Cuddling & Snuggling, Getting Together, Romance, Sexual Tension, Scent Kink, m.. maybe??, its not as intense as a kink, Fluff, Scars, Sharing a Bed, Nonverbal Communication)

this river runs to you by sundiscus (T, 53k, WangXian, Modern with Magic, Mutual Pining, Dragons, Literal Sleeping Together, Tender wound tending)

4B)

grow by cafecliche (T, 14k, WangXian, Age Regression/De-Aging, Character Study, Post-Canon, podfic available)

home is where we are by halfdemonvash (T, 17k, wangxian, JC & WWX, Twin Prides of Yúnmèng are Bad at Communicating, JC & WWX Reconciliation, but only somewhat because these these things take time, Age Regression/De-Aging, Angst and Feels, Hijinks & Shenanigans, accidental baby acquisition but it's actually your older brother, references to wwx's past being homeless, and also his past food insecurity, rated T for jiang cheng's language, and light sexual content in the beginning, Post-Canon, Yúnmèng Siblings Feels, Junior Trio Shenanigans)

Bringing Up JC by Mikkeneko (T, 31k, JC & WWX, JC & JL JL & WWX, JL & LSZ, Kid Fic, Age Regression/De-Aging, Fluff and Angst, anticipate about one part kid cuteness to two parts angst, Reparenting, reliving trauma, unpacking JC's childhood issues, no therapy in the jianghu so this will have to do, Take Care reveal, Yúnmèng Siblings Feels, JC & WWX Reconciliation, WWX Is Good With Children, WWX Has a Fear of Dogs, Golden Core Reveal)

🔒 Silver & Gold by beeswaxing (E, 162k, wangxian, post-canon, de-aging, fluff & angst, happy ending, fix-it of sorts, family bonding, established relationship, non-sexual intimacy, BAMF WWX, pining, protective WWX)

found your writing on my wall by howodd5ever (T, 25k, WangXian, JC & LWJ, JC & WWX, Accidental Baby Acquisition, De-aged WWX, Post-Canon, Getting Together, Referenced Child Neglect, discussion of parental loss, child food insecurity, Case Fic, kind of, Nightmares)

🔒suddenly an old song fills my heart with home, my eyes with tears by RoseThorne (T, 724, WangXian, JC & WWX, Curses, Rebirth, Memories, Memory Loss, Age Regression/De-Aging, Recovered Memories, POV Third Person)

~*~

5. Hi, I am looking for fics in the canon-ish setting where characters undergo major injuries or illnesses that disable them but they are still bamf? (Last part added to a FF)

we’re starting at the end by Miss_Enthusiasimal (M, 92k, WangXian, JC & WWX, Time Travel, Canon Divergence, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Golden Core Reveal, Burial Mounds, Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Starvation, emaciation, Cannibalism, Self-Harm, Amputation, Suicidal Thoughts, Sunshot Campaign, let JZX and WWX be friends club) WWX loses a leg & continues fighting the SSC with no-one being the wiser

🔒 no new age by everythingispoetry (M, 146k, wangxian, LSZ & LWJ, LXC/JGY, LXC/NMJ, Canon Divergence, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Permanent Injury, Recovery, Disability, Parenthood, Character Study, Thirteen Years of WWX's Death, Growing Up, Family Dynamics, Self-Discovery, Mental Health Issues, Grief/Mourning, Families of Choice, Developing Relationship) LWJ is left disabled by the 33 lashes punishment, & pushes through it, which I would think qualifies for BAMF status

🧡 Company by WithBroomBefore (T, 29k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Pre-Relationship, Getting Together, POV LWJ, Fix-It, Pre-Canon, at least to start, WWX goes to Cloud Recesses, But Not In The Usual Way, fear of character death, Everybody Lives, Hurt/Comfort, Happy Ending, Light Angst, good teacher LQR, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, brief discussion of past minor character suicide, Kitten, Not YZY Friendly)

🔒 a star called sun by thelastdboy (E, 120k, wangxian, SL/XXC, JC & JYL & WWX, JYL & LWJ, WWX & WN & WQ, JYL/JZX, Canon Divergence after Xuanwu Cave, Fall of Lotus Pier, But worse!, Power Imbalance, It Gets Worse Before It Gets Better, Not Everyone Dies AU, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Canon-Typical Violence, Sunshot Campaign, Miscommunication, Heavy Angst with a Happy Ending, Slow Burn, Major Character Injury, Loss of Limbs, Chronic Illness, Seizures, WWX's Three Months in the Burial Mounds, Wēn Remnants Live, Wēn Remnants Deserve Better, WWX Creates a Sect | Yílíng Wèi Sect, Additional Warnings In Author's Note, Hurt/Comfort, Selectively Mute LWJ, Service Animals, Crows)

Obscuring the Sun by Karmiya (E, 24k, WIP, WangXian, WWX & WN, the sunshot campaign, Past Domestic Abuse)

~*~

6. ITMF a fic where preferably wwx is an amputee but lwj is okay too and I’d also prefer it in modern setting but again cannon timeline is fine as well @/zerokogane

🔒some things go forward by everythingispoetry (T, 73k, WangXian, Modern AU, Hospitals, Teenage Drama, Slow Burn, Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Happy Ending)

Work in Tandem by MimiSpearmint (E, 23k, WangXian, Modern with Magic, Single Parent LWJ, when you just want disability-led sword lessons for your child, swordflight instructor!wwx, swordflight instructor!lwj, Fluff, give lwj friends agenda, Protective LWJ, Getting Together, Intercrural Sex, Choking, Oral Sex, Rough Sex, Implied off-screen D/s negotiations)

~*~

7. Hey! Do have any recs where wwx never loses his golden core? Like the Just Say Yes series? Could be an au, or anything. Thank you!

Lessons relearned by Iamnotawriter (T, 44k, WangXian, LQR & WWX, Not YZY Friendly, Time Travel Fix-It, Angst with a Happy Ending, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Inventor WWX, It Gets Worse Before It Gets Better, No Golden Core Transfer, YZY Bashing)

Until The World Embraces Me Home by azri (T, 5k, WIP, WangXian, Canon Divergence, YLLZ LWJ, LWJ Has No Golden Core, Role Reversal, Not LXC Friendly, Not JC Friendly, Not cultivation world friendly overall tbh, Sunshot Campaign, Friends to Lovers, Temporary Character Death, WangXian Get a Happy Ending) LZ loses his core but WY keeps his

A Thousand Things by tickertape (M, 108k, wangxian, canon divergence, WWX is not adopted by Jiangs, develping friendships, miscommunication, misunderstanding, nightmares, panic attacks, hurt/comfort, slow burn)

~*~

8. Hi, itmf recently completed wips. What's new and good is ready for the binge reading. Thank you! @/best-before-end

pale shadows of forgotten names by Chrononautical (T, 56k, wangxian, Madam Lán Lives, Madam Lán Deserves Better, Good Sibling LXC, Badass LXC, He gets there in the end it just takes a while, Not particularly JGY friendly, Gūsū Lán Sect Rules, Canon-Typical Behavior, Unresolved Sexual Tension, the universal fear of growing up to become one of your parents, Canon Divergence, Everyone Lives AU, Except WN but he's very polite, Arranged Marriage, Forced Marriage, Imprisonment, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, not between wangxian, Drunk LWJ, to lighten the mood, Fluff and Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Traumatized WWX, though he will not admit it, Taking time to heal, canon-typical communication skills)

~*~

9. Hello! I am in the mood for a wangxian arranged marriage fanfic. I would prefer a longer story (over 50k words, if possible). It can be canon or even AU. I would like the story to focus not only on the relationship between LZ and WY but also on the politics behind it. It can also be omegaverse. It would be great if their relationship is rocky at first and then becomes better. If there's more fanfics like this, I would be grateful for all of them. Thank you very much. @/broodyelii

Concord by Deastar (T, 41k, WangXian, Arranged Marriage, Gūsū Lán Sect Rules, Depression, Canon Divergence, Angst with a Happy Ending)

🧡 a stone to break your soul, a song to save it by rikke (M, 179k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Arranged Marriage) Definitely meets the length criteria, though its been long enough since I last read it that I don't recall how much it went into the politics of the marriage

love, in fire and blood by cicer (E, 360k, wangxian, immortal WWX, slow burn, pining, arranged marriages)

❤️ A Myriad of Blossoms by Itszero (E, 56k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Arranged Marriage, Forced Marriage, YLLZ WWX, Hurt LWJ, Cruel wwx, he's cruel until he's not, Protective WWX, Caring WWX, Hurt/Comfort, Fluff and Angst, Eventual Smut, Bottom LWJ, Dark WWX)

The Scarlet Lotus by rainbowninja167 (M, 137k, WangXian, Marriage of Convenience, Secret Identity, Fix-It, Angst with a Happy Ending, It Gets Worse Before It Gets Better, Canon-Typical Violence, canon-typical war crimes, Yunmeng Bros, the mortifying ordeal of getting seduced by your own husband, nonlinear chronology we die like cql, just kidding nobody dies in this fic, Slow Burn, Mutual Pining, Miscommunication)

~*~

10. Itmf wangxian fics with WWX in peril (happy ending only please).

pitfalls of greed by glitteringmoonlight (T, 3k, wangxian, post-canon, outsider pov, BAMF WWX, kidnapping, violence)

❤️ kick at the darkness 'til it bleeds daylight by AlfAlfAlfAlfAlf, tardigradeschool (T, 75k, WangXian, Hurt/Comfort, Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Eventual Happy Ending, Getting Together, Burial Mounds Settlement Days, Inspired by The Parent Trap (1998), Kid Fic, teen shenanigans, two a-yuans, Fluff and Angst)

~*~

11. I am currently reading "Get it right (mdzs time travel) Series" by AmiraAlzilu (AO3) and now I'm ITMF for a time travel fic where LXC and LQR are specifically called out for their lack of trust in LWJ witness testimony (aka child/elders in the Burial Mounds) and believing a sworn brother over family. Bonus for a) apologies or b) digging a deeper hole aka surely LWJ is mistaken, Meng Yao would never, I'm looking at you chapter 15 to 17 of this fic LXC (yes I'm salty). Bonus bonus for consequences on LXC's loose lips telling things to others he was asked to keep in confidence.... @/mreisse

I'm #11, and you know what? Recs calling out LXC and LQR is also fine :)

Weep You No More, Sad Fountains by athena_crikey (T, 59k, wangxian, LXC & LWJ, LXC & JGY, Canon Divergence, Fix-it fic, Whump, Curses, Fever, Delirium, Stabbing, Loneliness, Confessions, LWJ's emotional repression, WWX giving everything as always, LXC realising sympathy is not support, LQR Being an Asshole) Okay so this isn't a time travel fic, so feel free to disregard, BUT! Does have LXC coming to WWX for help & seeing the truth, & characters calling him tf out on how it took him this long, so requester may still be interested

~*~

12. this is an itmf ask!!

fics where wwx is in his full yiling patriarch glory, I want to see scary yllz, possessive yllz (for lwj ofc) anything. longer fics pls but anything is fine, just no wips please haha!!

🔒hold me fast, fear me not by cicer (M, 16k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Fairy Tale Elements, Mpreg, Bottom LWJ/Top WWX, YLLZ WWX, brief reference to abortificants, Implied/Referenced Dubious Consent, may be interpreted as noncon by some)

curse of the dragon emperor by lulu_kitty (E, 96k, WangXian, Dragon AU, Canon Divergence, Mythology References, Identity Porn, Cursed WWX, Trans LWJ, Trans Male Character, Misgendering, Canon-Typical Violence, Gender Dysphoria, gender euphoria, Phoenixes, Dragon WWX, Fox WWX, Double Penetration in Two Holes, Vaginal Sex, Anal Sex, Cunnilingus, Bottom LWJ/Top WWX, Dirty Talk, Submissive LWJ, Trauma, WWX Has PTSD, Minor Character Death, Prince WWX, Emperor WWX, Soulmates, Arranged Marriage, Mpreg, Trans Male Pregnancy, Size Difference, Dragonxian has two dicks, YLLZ WWX, technically!, It's more like YLLZ adjacent)

your darkest roads by comefeedtherainn (E, 76k, WangXian, YLLZ WWX, non-yunmeng wwx, Kinda, No Golden Core Transfer, Dark WWX, d/s dynamics, No noncon, playing with subverting some tropes/expectations)

~*~

13. I swear the only reason I can still consume Wangxian content daily is because of your recommendations.

There’s a couple fics I’ve been craving for a while and haven’t been able to find any I really love, so any help/ recommendations would be much appreciated!

A) Lan Xichen focused fics. It’s so hard to find fics that centre him.

B) Lan Sizhui focused fics. Mainly him with his dads/ family, but also him remembering his past would be great! Baby or adult A-yuan.

C) Wangxian being parents. Wei Wuxian being single parent. Just them being amazing dad’s content.

I’d appreciate any of these prompts 💞✨💫 @/jinxedjaz

13A)

Chapter 2 of Every Mother's Son by Chrononautical (T, 11k, Madam Lan & WWX, Madam Lan & LWJ, Madam Lan & Lxc, wangxian, Madam Lán Lives, Madam Lán Deserves Better, Madam Lán Leaves Cloud Recesses, Madam Lan rescues women from abusive husbands in feudal Japan and honestly that's so valid of her, mentions of rape/non-con between Madam Lan & QHJ, Give Madam Lan a name of her own, let Madam Lan find out that QHJ died in a fire as a treat, now with bonus Lan Xichen!) chapter 1 is more focused on LWJ and WWX, I recommend both :)

i told you when i came i was a stranger by Caramelized (M, 50k, OFC/LXC, minor WangXian, Isekai, Transmigration, Fix-It, Canon Divergence, Amateur cartography, Butterfly Effect, Sunshot Campaign, Somebody Lives/Not Everyone Dies, No Golden Core Transfer, Dimension Travel, Politics, LXC the politician, Self-Insert, Foreknowledge, Angst with a Happy Ending) it's SI/OC but heavily features LXC (including some chapters from his POV). also has one of my favorite characterizations of LXC i've seen in fic

To Love What Is Mortal by treemaidengeek (T, 22k, LXC/SL, Post-Canon, Grief/Mourning, Fluff and Angst, Healing, Hurt/Comfort, [Podfic] To Love What Is Mortal by flamingwell) as well as most of the works in this series.

Gentle Exile by rynleaf (E, 9k, LXC/SL, Post-Canon, Canonical Character Death, Grief/Mourning, References to Depression, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Character Study, Epistolary, Post-Canon Exploration, [PODFIC] Gentle Exile by flamingwell, semperfiona_podfic (semperfiona))

13B)

When You Wake, 怎能当梦一场 by acertainrogue (T, 39k, WangXian, WWX is in a coma, Angst with a Happy Ending, Modern AU, Single Dad LWJ, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Parenthood, YZY's A+ Parenting, JFM's A+ parenting, wangxian family) this is completely from lsz's pov

this blood in my mouth by ShanaStoryteller (Not Rated, 3k, WangXian, LSZ & WWX & LWJ, Post-Canon, POV LXC)

The Living Looked That Day by violettressed (T, 19k, LSZ & WN, WangXian, Post-Canon, Canon Compliant, Ritualistic Self-Harm, Mild Gore)

🧡 Lan Sizhui Sees Dead People Series by darkbrokenreaper (T, 30k, WIP, WangXian, LWJ & LSZ, JC & LSZ, Canon Divergence, Fluff, Kid Fic, Hurt/Comfort, lsz sees dead people, Paranormal)

as i stumble homewards by the_pretzel (T, 27k, wangxian, canonical character death, found family, food issues, trauma, LSZ pov, angst w/ happy ending, fluff) LSZ raised by ghost!WWX

Symmetry by Vir_Abelasan (M, 13k, WangXian, LSZ & WWX, One-Sided ChengXian, One-Sided ChengZhui, Canon Divergence, LSZ is raised by wwx, Wwx still dies sorry, Revenge, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Dark LSZ, Manipulation, Power Imbalance, Torture, Not JC Friendly, JC’s Canonical 13 Years Murder Spree, BAMF LSZ, WangXian Get a Happy Ending, LSZ Gets to Go Apeshit) LSZ gets to have a lil revenge, as a treat

Remember, Remember by Izzyaro (Isilarma) (G, 1k, LSZ & WN, LJY & LSZ, Character Study, Post-Canon, Family, Families of Choice, Grief/Mourning, Angry LSZ, LSZ Needs a Hug, not for jc fans, LSZ gets a hug) LSZ remembers a few things, & gets to be angry

the kite string and the anchor rope by fleurdeliser (M, 39k, wangxian, after yiling date, sick child) LSZ is sick for a chunk of this but is still the central character

keeping score by hauntedotamatone (T, 6k, LSZ & WWX, Background WangXian, the opposite of reconciliation, Protective WWX, Duelling, Grief/Mourning, not for jc fans, Swordfighting, Resentment, LSZ centric, No JC & WWX Reconciliation) featuring protective dad WWX

Would You Come Home? by s6115 (Not rated, 46k, WangXian, Junior Quartet Centric, Time Travel Fix-It, Canon Divergence, Junior Quartet Dynamics) being a coming-of-age type story as LSZ discovers his past with WWX

13C)

emergent properties by luckymarrow (E, 8k, WangXian, Modern AU, Family Fluff, Trans Male Character, Trans LWJ, Queer Families, Queer Youth, Adoption, Baby LSZ, Teen MXY, Crossdressing, but not as a kinkgender expression, Dilf4Dilf Wangxian, Penis In Vagina Sex, Blow Jobs, Domestic Fluff, Fluff and Smut, gender euphoria, Cunnilingus)

at no other time by luckymarrow (M, 2k, WangXian, Modern AU, Queer Families, Queer Youth, Child LSZ, Family Fluff, Non-Explicit Sex, farming, Wangxian Run an Organic Farm as God Intended, Found Family, Families of Choice, Adoption, Trans Male Character, Married WangXian, Established Relationship)

Across the street to another life by danegen (M, 99k, WangXian, Modern AU, unleashed au, Family Fluff, Set in America, Hurt/Comfort, Past Child Abuse, Addiction, Crime, Amnesia, Ableist Language, another fridged mother, POV Alternating, past wwx/ofc, past wwx/omc, Medium parent YZY, A-Yuan is wwx’s biological son, Musicians, Happy Ending) this one also has WangXian being great parents, but it's not the main plot of the story.

my little love by mellowflicker (T, 54k, WangXian, Modern AU, Single Parent WWX, kindergarten teacher!lwj, Kid Fic, Hurt/Comfort, Domestic Fluff, Pining)

box your errors by mellowflicker (T, 42k, WangXian, Modern AU, single dad lwj, Domestic Fluff, Family Issues, Slow Burn, Kid Fic, let lwj have friends agenda, Hurt/Comfort, Pining)

❤️ Seen and not heard by eatmyass (E, 51k, wangxian, case fic, no sunshot, kid fic, dadxian, strangers to lovers, found family, LWJ pov, pining, fake/pretend relationship, first time, falling in love)

❤️ Attempting the Impossible by Ariaste for williedustice (T, 36k, WangXian, JC & WWX, Post-Canon, Yunmeng Bros Reconciliation, Adoption, Family Fluff, Kid fic, Family drama, Fluff, [PODFIC] Attempting the Impossible by Ariaste by lunatique)

~*~

14. thanks for your hard work admins! itmf darkji fics :) once again, ty!!

~*~

15. Can you please give me all the Fic Recs you can find on A) WWX getting his body back? Post canon. I’m struggling to find them. And also B) post canon reconciliation docs with JC and Jin ling, and/or C) post canon fica where wwx night hunts and gets injured, and nearly dies? And worries everyone. Please and thank you. @/the-daydreamer

15A)

Touch That Body, (It's Not Mine) by brrrrrRawr (T, 3k, WangXian, WWX in WWX's original body, Fluff, Pet Names, Blushing, No Smut, Genius WWX, yunmeng bros reconciliation, endgame lotus pier, big bro wwx rights, also dad wwx rights, BAMF WWX, Bad Writing, Body Dysphoria, So OOC)

15B)

Rotten Work by ShanaStoryteller (Not Rated, 63k, WangXian, WWX & JL, Post-Canon, Protective WWX, Protective JL, Yunmeng Bros Reconciliation, Reluctant Matchmaker JL, [PODFIC] Rotten Work by sakizar) qualifies for both 15B and 15C

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

Imprints by Lisa_Telramor (G, 47k, WangXian, accidental puppy adoption, Humor, Panic Attacks, phobia recovery, Post-Canon, JC & WWX Reconciliation, Poor Life Choices, Self-Acceptance, Developing Relationship, fluff with a side of anxiety lol, WWX adopts a puppy, Dogs)

other side of paradise by blueseam (T, 12k, JC & WWX & JL, Post-Canon, Platonic hair-washing, excessive amounts of communication, Emotional Hurt/Comfort)

singing through the dark by twigofwillow (G, 13k, JL & WWX, WangXian, Post-Canon, Yunmeng bros reconciliation if you squint, angst with a tiny bit of fluff)

everyone else is spring bound by Lise (T, 18k, JC & WWX, Post-Canon, Post-Finale, Dysfunctional Family, Family Bonding, Minor WangXian, Yunmeng bros Reconciliation, JC Needs a Hug, POV JC, Family Feels, Light Angst, Reconciliation, Awkward Conversations)

some good mistakes by Lise (T, 18k, WangXian, JC & WWX, Post-Canon, Road trips, rescue Missions, Hurt/Comfort, Awkward Conversations, Yunmeng Bros Reconciliation, [Podfic] some good mistakes by kisahawklin )

an aging wound by Lise (G, 7k, JC & WWX, POV WWX, Post-Canon, Yunmeng bros Reconciliation, Awkward Conversations, Light Angst, but mostly just the awkward conversations, Dysfunctional Family, Post-The Untamed (TV), Twin Prides of Yúnmèng Dynamics, Twin Prides of Yúnmèng Feels)

With Absolute Splendor by Lise (T, 43k, WangXian, JC & WWX, Post-Canon, Wedding planning, Yunmeng Bros Reconciliation, Complicated Relationships, Angst with a happy ending, [Podfic] With Absolute Splendor by kisahawklin, [PODFIC] With Absolute Splendor by Gwogobo)

Jiang Cheng goes Traveling Series by gbuzy12 (G, 11k, JC & LWJ, JC & WWX, Light Angst Post-Canon, yunmeng bros reconciliation)

Reeds in the Wind by merakily (T, 26k, WangXian, Post-Canon, Canon Compliant, Character Study, Yunmeng bros Reconciliation, Rabbit Therapy, Sewing Therapy, PTSD, Emotional Baggage, Hurt/Comfort, JC is Bad at Feelings, JC Needs a Hug) 15C)

let the yoke fall from our shoulders by occultings (microcomets) (G, 2k, WangXian, Hurt/Comfort, Light Angst, Character Study, Mentions of Canonical Character Death, Grief/Mourning, Gūsū Lán Juniors Dynamics, Happy Ending, Family Feels, Established Relationship)

~*~

16. Any fanfiction about the xicheng ship.

Audience of One by WinterDreams (T, 181k, XiCheng, WangXian, XuanLi, Modern AU, Celebrities, Inspired by 10 Things I Hate About You (1999), Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Singer LXC, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Everyone Needs A Hug, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Slow Burn, Family Feels, Family Bonding, past emotional abuse, Post-Betrayal, Venerated Triad Feels, Yunmeng Duo Feels, Nightmares, Fluff and Angst, Babysitter Ā-Qìng, Domestic Fluff, SongXiao mentioned relationship, Soft XiCheng, Eventual Happy Ending, implied MingYao)

~*~

17. pls rec some post canon fluff :)

with such a suffering, such a deadly life by cqlorphan (T, 7k, wangxian, post-canon, curses, curse breaking, getting together, angst w/ happy ending, fluff, hurt/comfort, affection, touch-starved LWJ, LWJ whump, cuddling & snuggling, love confessions)

Continuation by thefaceofno (T, 13k, WangXian, Canon Continuation, wwx builds a lotus pond in cloud recesses, Hair Brushing, Angst with a Happy Ending, Light Angst, Pining, gay disaster lwj, Post-Canon Fix-It)

Deeper grows my longing by feyburner (T, 4k, WangXian, Post-Canon, Getting Together, First Kiss, Deeper grows my longing [podfic] by someplacelikebolivia)

~*~

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

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

194 notes · View notes

buboloboogie · 7 months ago

Text

I turned Void, Pepper, and Pickles into Kindred !! :D

HURAYYY THEY'RE ALL KINDRED!!

Essentially in this AU, the PCs are swapped with their companions! Their story lines are similar, pepper and pickles are still twins / daughters of the queen, and Void is a secluded lone wolf trying to find something. HERE ARE THEIR BLERBS BECAUSE I'VE PUT TOO MUCH EFFORT INTO IT vvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvv

Miss Void Bennett. Generally, Void's backstory is the same as Arthur's. BUT!! Because we know basically nothing about Void, where she came from, how long she's been with Arthur, etc. My concept for her is that she has lost almost all of her memories of her human life, and the first few days after her embrace. All she remembers is Vanya's face, and having this feeling of deep rage and heartbreak. She sets out to the Americas after the war, where she meets Mary Davis and Edward. There, she gets help recovering only some of her memories, though only the memories of the beast. Whenever she'd frenzy, kill mortals, and most unfortunately ripping what she knows to be her family to death. After this discovery is when she starts out on her journey to find Vanya. She tells herself its to find out more about her missing memories, but deep down she is motivated completely by revenge. Void is a shy and tentative person at first, though as she gets comfortable she is bright and bubbly. She is very motherly to the few people she does care about, but it is very difficult for her to create that sort of trust in any sort of relationship. She tries to keep most people at an arms length, but there are a few who sneak through the cracks. Triva!: (SPOILERS AHEAD!!!) - Instead of a book with names, she sketches down every face she remembers tearing apart. - At the midnight circle, her form becomes more of a crazy old were-cat lady - Her tenabris form takes the shape of a writhing cat, with piercing red eyes. - She has Celerity dots instead of Fortitude dots - Her guilt manifests as a need to 'make up for it' by helping kindred and mortals worse off than her, another reason she mothers and guides the two Princesses. - Akin to Arthur, she feels as if taking care of the two twins is how she will atone, but she also will get flashes of warm memories of her younger twin siblings during calm and quiet moments. - When she diablorizes the winged kindred in the Cullen Games, her wings are those of a bat, but the arm bones are covered with a matted black fur. She also has retractable claws on the tips of the bat wing fingers.

Pepper Tucker. Pepper is a Vet tech who lives with her deadbeat father, who's failing car repair shop gets by on her paychecks. In her free time, she's helping The Demons strategize their next move against the Fangs, or smoking delirious amounts of pot ( The only strain she smokes is one called 'Cat Nip' ). Some say she has nine lines, for how many times she's almost knocked on deaths door. She her personality is indifferent. She seems tired, and like her head is somewhere up in the clouds. But even with this, she is someone almost paranoid of her surroundings. She is blunt, with no filter, and is not afraid to rip your ego to shreds without even raising an eyebrow. Pepper is always around - its a little weird honestly - and she is always willing to offer a helping hand to those she cares about. Trivia!: (SPOILERS AHEAD!!!) - Because Slimecicle references Pepper as a boy, and as Salem, while Condi references Pepper as a girl; She is MTF, Salem is her deadname while Pepper is her chosen name. - She is a Gangrel rather than a Brujah - She is a cat therian - Pepper seems to be unnaturally good at anything on the first try. It is kind of annoying - Her interactions with the twins are more Vex: NUH UH Pepper: uh huh Vex: NUH UH!!! Pepper: Uh huh Vex: NUH UUUHH!! Pepper: Stupidsayswhat? Vex: What? Viv: Brother I believe that she fucking got yo- Vex: CURSE YOU SHAMIASHAMAIII!!!! Pepper: lol - She has dots in Potence rather than Protean - She is a very dirty fighter, nut shots, pocket sand, its the only way she knows how to fight. - She nursed a near-death Fisher (type of wild weasel) back to health when she was little, and keeps him around as a pet. She names the Fisher Emezil, and he is the source of her 9 lives. - Instead of Adam Sandler movies, she is locked in her little pool of blood for hours watching Nick Cage movies. - Her battles with Gabriel (who is a coyote themed Gangrel) are the only time where she really raises her voice. I like to think instead of gay jokes, she is always twisting Gabriel's jokes into transphobic remarks, which he stumbles over his words and they go into a fuck you back and forth

Princess Pullette (Pickles) Bathroy Princess Pullette is a ball of energy that cannot be contained. Being cooped up inside the castle all her life, she has become a prank master. Playing silly pranks on the important vampires, and getting a slap on the wrist from her uncle each time, she is inching to get the hell OUT. Then one day, when loosing guards chasing her from putting a fake snake toy in the washroom, she comes across some papers that seems to be documentation of one "No Breaks Car Repair" shop in LA. After getting the iron fist from her mother, getting grounded indefinitely to the room she's been stuck in since... forever. Seething with rage, she dominates a few guards to escort her to the dark door, where she leaves the castle for the first time and spawns in at "No Breaks Car Repair." The Princess of the Ventrue clan gets her name Pickles from Pepper in their first interaction; Pep: Soo.. whats you're name supposed to be? Pick: Princess p-..... what do you think it is..? >:3c Pep: uhh.... idk Princess Pickles? Pick: It's Pickles now >:3c Pickles is the extrovert of an extrovert. She lives the thrill of adrenaline, doing whatever she deems is fun or funny in the moment. She is a yapper, most DEFINITELY doesn't know how to control her volume, and has the ability to talk about absolutely nothing for hours on end. She is ditsy and definitely does not think of the people around her, or what their opinion of her might be, at first. She truly is a caring person, who at the end of the day wants to do what's right, and make her mother proud. Trivia!: (SPOILERS!!) - Pickles still has the same flaws as Shilo, ex. Needing blood to be fed to her, needing to wear 'traditional vampire attire', and believing in the old folk lore - When the twins talk to uncle lazy in the old folk's home bathroom, Pickles is given Shilo, in which rains her in a bit because she thinks the bird is broken because of how timid it seems. She embraces the bird when he finally slept one night, thinking he died & the only way to save him was to turn him. (Pepper just helped calm down the anxious bird) Shilo afterwards is more energetic and warm towards pickles. - Whenever Pickles tries to talk about what her mother barred her from telling, she honks like a goose - Pickles has dots in celerity rather than presence - Edward gets under her skin, and truly spawns this unbridled fire of rage inside of her, which motivates her to yell "SUCK IT, ZOOLANDER!" at Elysium, and tunnel visions as she vows to 'dethrone him' if its the last thing she does - Pickles is so glad to have a sister. Genuinely probably the best thing that ever happened to her THATS MY SHPEAL!!!! If you have any more questions about them, throw them in my ask box!!! Here's some more concept / doodles for their designs, thank you so much if you read all that rambling :,,) (SPOILERS BELOW 2ND SKETCH!!) also yes Sunshine is the Sheriff rather than Deacon >:3c

Here's the link to Void's OG design !!!

104 notes · View notes

sanjoongie · 1 year ago

Text

𝐇𝕠ռ𝜚𝘺𝘦𝒅 𐐛𝗶ҽ𝒔 𝑎𝒏𝖽 ɑ 𝓢ѡℯ𝟈𝘁 𝙱ꭵ𝚝ⅇ

📗Thrill of the Hunt collab Masterlist

📗Pairing: Hwang Hyunjin (Gean-Canach Fae) x Reader x Choi San (Part Fae Part Hound of the Hunt)

📗Au: Fae au, Artist au, Writer au

📗Trope: s2l, mated pair, lovers to enemies

📗Genre: smut, angst, dark themes

📗Warnings: ⚠Please be aware of the dark themes featured in this fic⚠ imprisonment, slave/servant treatment, mentions of blood, death, violence (choking), humans kept for breeding, cannibalism, torture, broken heart, pregnancy

📗Kinks: prey/predator, penetrative sex without a barrier, knot dynamics, imprinting "mated" sex, celibate! San, feral sex, biting, baiting San into fucking you, "just the tip" mentality but from the reader!, rip-able clothes, aphrodisiac (willingly taken by reader), slight hate sex mentality, breast worship

📗Summary: after being lured to the Fae Realm by Hyunjin on a false pretense, you decide enough is enough and risk attempting to escape your pretty prison. What you didn't expect was to fall for the Fae that was sent to bring you back.

📗Word Count: 10,331

📗Dedication: @mejuii speedy beta reader @stardragongalaxy provided Txt's Kelpie! Kai cameo, @flurrys-creativity 's winged Faerie! reader & Brownie! Changbin, and finally @anyamaris 's reader makes a cameo as well as Rose! @smallfrye who let me get excited about this and bounce ideas off of her

📗Songs to listen to while reading: Seventeen's Monster, Jackson's Bullet to the heart, Ateez's New World

“Oh human!” A melodic voice called into your room.

You sighed loudly and closed the book you had been reading. You may live in a wondrous set of rooms in a tower at the end of a valley, but it was a prison all the same.

“Hyunjin,” You sighed, “You could at least refer to me by my name.”

Hyunjin threw the doors open to the room you currently inhabited. “Ash is so dull. Like you're what comes after a great fire.”

Your mouth felt like it was full of ash. Hyunjin never hid how quickly his passion for you became ash. Now you were simply a human caught in the fae realm, his muse for creativity when he, as an immortal, could find none.

Still, Hyunjin prattled on, not swayed by his purpose. “What have you been working on?”

There was no use trying to keep it away from him. He would cajole it out of you sooner or later. You tilted your book towards him and he peered over. His intelligent and bright eyes moved with alacrity, consuming the words you had put to paper. He smiled in glee, wicked and cunning. “I know the perfect painting for that.”

This was the ever-turning of your life. You couldn't tell the pass of time, not like in the mortal realm. There were different seasons, but Hyunjin lived in a valley that was permanently caught in the throws of high summer. So the only way to judge the passing of time was your works, and the works of Hyunjin that followed after. Either he would create from inspirations of your writing or you would write from inspirations of his paintings. It was a torturous pairing, and one that you would sever, if only you could.

You had first met Hyunjin when you were a burgeoning writer. You were young and fearless but also clueless. Hyunjin had been a gorgeous temptation. His sharp mind was what lured you in, another kindred spirit of the arts. You had fallen fast for the beautiful man, but he had a secret.

“If only I could bring you back with me,” Hyunjin sighed as the sun set. He leaned against the windowsill of your tiny cottage.

“Back to the city?” You wondered curiously, interest suddenly piqued.

Hyunjin shrugged. “It’s amazing there. So many others like us, who love the arts and want to live their lives surrounded by the arts.”

“We can go!” You jumped up, cheeks flushing at the pleased look in Hyunjin’s eyes.

“Are you sure? Didn’t you say your elder sister frowned upon our companionship?” He quirked an eyebrow at you.

You sighed heavily. “Oh, poo, she can sit on a stick. I want to live my own life.”

Despite your elder sister's warnings about Hyunjin, your head was full of dreams of creating a life with others that honored the arts--unlike everyone else in your tiny, back water village. You followed Hyunjin, hand in hand, down your well-worn road and into the forest. Hyunjin sent you a mischievous smile when you wondered why you had left the road.

“This is a special shortcut,” he said.

A jolt of excited electricity shot through you at the thought that perhaps shortcut was an euphemism for some slap and tickle, perhaps Hyunjin would indulge you with his head between your legs like you had fantasized--

“Over here,” Hyunjin brought you back to reality, tugging your arm towards a mushroom circle.

“You’re not about to lure me to a faerie circle, are you, Jinnie?” You teased back.

“And what if I was?” Hyunjin drew you into the circle of his arms just barely hovering before the circle.

“I would follow you there,” You murmured back, drunk on his attentions.

It took a while to settle into the fact that Hyunjin was Fae. As soon as the two of you crossed over into the Fae Realm, his glamor had been dismissed. The delicate curve of his ears was the most apparent, along with the blast of his power, it practically radiated off of him, alluring and warm like the sunshine of the realm you had crossed over into.

The sex perhaps distracted you from the majority of the way Hyunjin mindfucked you into believing this was the life you had traded for. The first time he bent you over your desk to fuck you, was titillating.

“I’m here to give you inspiration,” he murmured into the shell of your ear.

His flowing shirt fluttered over your lower back as he pressed into you. “My muse,” he cooed and continued to enter you until he hit the end of you.

“Hyunjin!” You whimpered, nails digging into the oak wood below you.

“This is only the beginning of the pleasures I can give to you,” Hyunjin promised.

He urged your upper body to lift up, so that he could whisper further honeyed lies into your ear. He waxed poetic of the world the two of you would live in; he would wrap himself around you for years and you would write and he would paint and your lives would be fulfilled.

This was when he imprinted on you, biting into your shoulder and connecting you with himself forever. You heard from the lesser Fae that imprinting was usually meant to connect two Fae, like a pact of marriage. Your heart surged when you heard this, sure in your decision to follow Hyunjin away from your mortal life.

And for a decade or two, you were so utterly in love with Hyunjin, that you grew ignorant of the way he treated you. Hyunjin kept you locked up in a wonderful tower. He told you it was to keep you safe from the other Fae, even though he was never a threat to you. He told you the tower let you view the city, the valley, all the inspiration a writer would need. And it worked.

Until he stopped visiting your bed, stopped whispering honeyed lies about how much you meant to him. Oh, he meant every word that you meant a lot to him for he could not lie, but it was not about love, like you had been interpreting it. Hyunjin valued you for your human emotions, for your human imagination. Being immortal meant that you grew bored, you lacked any new sights, but a human--a human was full of new eyes and thus the perfect muse.

When you caught up with his trickery, it was too late. You were bound in your pretty prison, bound to repeat whatever Hyunjin wanted in order for him to live his best immortal life. And that’s when your summary, lovely, warm life started to leak its colorfulness.

You started to rebel and truly learned what it was to be at the mercy of a Fae Master. Hyunjin didn’t take well to you refusing to create anything for him. Your first set of punishment was to be worked as a servant for the Fae. You spent a spell as a food server but the atrocities you were privy to truly opened you up to the world you were trapped in. Torture was a passing amusement for Fae while they ate. You once watched a starving human be served up their own foot and ate it.

But nothing was worse than the months you were forced to serve the humans that were kept in the breeding pits. “You should watch your tongue, mortal, before I cast you in with that lot,” Hyunjin had threatened you when you broke your quill and threw your book out of your window.

Certain humans were kept in a series of cells in the very tower you were trapped in, unbeknownst to you. The Ciaradh court loved to study humans and they were constantly obsessed with creating new young. Some Fae theorized that getting a human fat with child was easier than bunnies fucking in spring, so there was a dedication to seeing if it was so true.

There were chances when said breeding humans were ‘walked’, for their benefit of course. Hyunjin would also, upon feeling like boasting of his Human Muse, take you for a walk in the beautiful cultivated gardens surrounding the tower. Of the flowers that grew there, there was one that was a washed-out blue, a rose that seemed to get skimmed over, but you were drawn to it. It was an imperfect color that reminded you of the skies in the human realm, unlike the perfect summer-sky blue that this realm always seemed to maintain.

You remembered this particular poor human, in a ratty white dress that barely covered her modesty, whom you had fed in the breeding pits. This one you found a few times smiling at a bluebird singing to her. You had fondly called her Rose, for you two were the only ones who admired the washed-out blue rose that the Fae sneered at for its imperfection--that only made it more beautiful to the two of you.

Back to the current time, where Hyunjin was painting something dark and seductive--which matched your mood to a T from your writings that you showed him. You couldn't help but resent the fact that he could still pull creatively from you, despite your connection to him remaining solely in the fact that he had imprinted on you because of his ambitions.

Hyunjin put down his paintbrush and sent a look your way; you knew what that look meant, he was going to torture you. You were starting to wonder if physical torture might be preferred to the methods Hyunjin enjoyed.

“Doesn’t she look like she’s enjoying herself?” Hyunjin wondered at his painting.

The painting wasn’t completed but you couldn't help but agree. The human lady in question, flowing robes not bothering to conceal her nakedness, had a Fae at her throat and a Fae between her legs. She was giving and taking, caught between violence and passion; exactly where you wanted to be.

“Yes,” You said dryly.

“Oh, come on now!” Hyunjin stood up from his stool, “No need to be jealous!”

“I’m hardly jealous, Hyunjin,” You spat.

Hyunjin’s eyes, dark and cruel, focused on you. “That’s right. It could be worse. I could throw you to the hounds, see if they eat you up or create a new mongrel for the court.”

Your anger seethed through you, fear interwoven within. “You’re so very considerate,” You replied blandly, attempting not to rise to Hyunjin’s barbs, even though you knew he could tell exactly how you felt, through your bond.

Hyunjin rolled his eyes and sighed dramatically. “You’re no fun anymore, human.”

When Hyunjin left, you threw a fit. You threw books and tore papers, spilled ink and broke quills. And when you were done letting your anger course through you, you were left with a broken heart and a near-broken mind. You couldn't do this anymore, you simply couldn't. Centuries more like this and you were likely to truly go mad, and the worst thing was, that would delight Hyunjin all the more. That you could not let happen.

You had to escape.

You knew what happened to humans who ran. The stories were practically drummed into you after Hyunjin broke your heart but wanted to dissuade you from even risking the chance. You knew the consequences, the repercussions. But what if you could twist and tailor this escape to benefit you? You had lived amongst the Fae long enough to have learned a trick or two.

For weeks, the plan coiled and formed in your mind. If you ran, Hyunjin’s bond would direct him where you were. But Hyunjin was a spoiled rotten Fae, he wouldn’t dirty his hands and go after you. He would run back to his parents, for he was from the Oidhche court originally. When you were still starry-eyed for the Fae world, Hyunjin would fill you with stories from the darker realm. He told you of how they would hunt humans for sport, to make you squeal and giggle. But you distinctly remember the stories about the Hound.

The Hound was a cautionary tale but a useful one. During one of the many wars between the courts, a Fae Hound had been changed from a dog to a humanoid form. It had been a way to save one Fae from fighting teeth and claws. That Hound had survived the war, miraculously, and gone on to settle down with a Fae woman. They had copulated and made a child, who much to the horror of the mother, had his father’s characteristics that he had kept hidden. The child was left at the mercy of the dark forest within the Oidhche court’s borders, but had grown up, albeit a bit more wild than most Fae children, which was saying something, really. That Hound Child was indebted to Hyunjin’s father who had taken him in, and that particular Fae would be sent to bring you back.

How were you going to escape when a Fae who was part Hound of the Hunt was tracking you? Well, you had an answer for that. You see, Hyunjin had also taken great glee in telling you said Hound was celibate, and had been for as long as Hyunjin could remember. So if you could offer the hound sex, tempt him with breaking his vow, he would be forsworn and nothing meant more to a Fae than his word. He would be worthless and without standing in his court. He would be… at the same level as a human, basically a death sentence. You could work with that. You would need a liquid aphrodisiac to prepare yourself for the seduction but you knew in your gut you would need more to seduce a century’s old Fae.

Hyunjin found your rooms the next day in ruins. But the true fact that actually made his face cloud over in anger was his ruined painting. That sent you to servants quarters. They put you on duty to the breeding pits, delivering their pittance of food.

You found Rose in a bad place and yet still she found a smile for you. An idea struck. It was very clear that Rose was recovering from a game played with her body and a Fae. You told Rose of your idea to escape and asked to exchange your clothes for the provocative dress that covered Rose’s body.

“Are you sure about this?” You couldn't help but worry that Rose would get in trouble for losing her dress.

Rose’s smile was strong despite her fragile appearance. “Even if they take it from me tomorrow, at least I’ll have slept in some clean clothes that were warm for one night.”

Rose’s attitude, despite what the world had thrown at her, only made you steel your spine. You were going to be like Rose and persevere. You were going to leave this place behind.

Hyunjin’s visits, however, were throwing you in a loop. You had a pack prepared and stashed for weeks before you were given an opportunity. If you left and Hyunjin found you gone too quickly, your escape would be pointless. So you had to wait until Hyunjin visited you next but there was no rhyme or reason to Hyunjin’s visits.

All you could do was work on perhaps the last thing you might write in your human life.

You wrote a story thinking of your sister, of your childhood, of how not everything was better on the other side of the grass. You wrote and distracted yourself and soon enough Hyunjin visited. You showed him your work, his eyes gleamed with inspiration and then he visited for three days before his painting was finished. And if you were honest with yourself, his painting was one of his best in decades.

Hyunjin eyed you curiously. “What’s got you suddenly so fired up? You haven’t written something that refreshing in years?”

You shrugged. “I’ve got a new lover.”

Hyunjin blinked at you blankly for a few seconds and then burst into laughter. He would have felt your lust if you were having sex with someone else through the bond. He knew how lonely you were for companionship, it practically wafted off of you when he visited. Hyunjin clutched his arms around his belly before finally he wiped some tears from his eyes. “Well, whatever it is, keep it up. I might let you come back to court if you do.”

Honeyed lies were Hyunjin’s specialty. He had you living off hopes and dreams forever until you let your love for him die for him. He would promise the world and mean it but there was no keeping track of the amount of loopholes he could find. He was Fae after all.

Once Hyunjin left, you could hardly contain yourself until nightfall. Then, during when the moon rose to its highest peak, you stole into the night in a dress that would lure every predator out. You ducked your head and told each guard passing that you were finally destined for the pits. They either made noises of sympathy or laughed at your demise, having seen you with Hyunjin during one time or another.

That was how you made your way down the Tower. At the base, you brightly informed that guard that Hyunjin had finally taken you back. You watched as a romantic look passed through his eyes and he let you go. For Fae that twisted the truth to their own benefit, slipping through them as a lying human sure was satisfying.

You pulled out a map and followed the landmarks to quickly get out of Ciaradh and cross over into Oidhche territory. Hyunjin would think you were an idiot, moving closer to the Fae that would be hunting you but that was all a part of your plan. You wanted the Hound to find you.

First things first, you had to get out of Ciaradh.

The various cities were easy to avoid. It was the faerie mounds and valleys that made it hard to travel. There was nowhere to hide. Just the beautiful rolling hills, which was the other reason why you wanted to get to Oidhche.

There was one place that you spotted and thought perhaps it would give you relief. A tree had fallen high atop a hill. With its roots still clinging to the earth, it made an impromptu overhang. You’re not sure if an ogre had knocked down the beautiful, solitary tree or perhaps the earth was simply taking back what once it gave, but either way, the hair on your arms rose with the feel of power once you reached the shadow of the overhang.

This was a well of the natural magic of the Fae realm. With it, you would be hidden from the majority of any Fae magic. The natural magic simply messed with anything else. Except you weren’t the only one that thought that it was a good hiding place for a human fleeing.

During the early morning after you had slumbered in the well of magic, you heard talking and shouting, waking you up immediately. “Oh, Yeon-Yeon, are you hiding here?”

You froze as an adorable female Fae with wings poked their head from the top of the overhang. “You’re not my human,” she said, clearly perplexed. “He’s not here, Binnie!” The head disappeared and you thought perhaps your luck won out. It had not.

The female fairie yanked you by your arm and half flew, half dragged you out to show the other Fae she was with, that you were, in fact, not ‘Yeon-Yeon’. You protested and ended up landing on your ass in front of a very buff Brownie. “I told you he isn’t smart enough to hide here!” She scoffed.

He frowned down at you, arms having a hard time crossing over his chest, but contemplated you with a hand at his chin. “But I swore I smell him this way.”

“Are you sure we can’t just take this one? She’s adorable too!” The female cooed at you. You slapped her hand when she reached to bop your nose.

Binnie’s frown deepened. “No. We have to find OUR human, Heart. This is not our hunt. And you know we must respect another’s hunt. Now respect ours and leave that human.”

The female sighed heavily. “Fine. I don't like that one anymore anyways. She’s not that cute if she slaps.”

After your encounter with the two Fae, you continued to hit your streak of bad luck. You almost got lured into a satyr’s traveling party, where the music got your feet tapping and dancing, and you would never stop. As a human, it was a death sentence. You ate a flower that you thought you read gave you night vision but in fact made you believe the opposite of everything you thought true. You almost backtracked a full day before it wore off--your feet trying to take you back to Hyunjin.

You almost cried in relief when you saw a dark forest in the distance. That was the territory marker for Oidhche. You had felt Hyunjin’s rage a few nights ago zoom through your bond and you knew that the hound would be sent to retrieve you. The second part of your plan was about to come into effect and you couldn't help but be excited. And that’s when you downed the Faerie Dew, preparing to seduce a Fae.

🐕🐕🐕

“Get up, Hound.”

A boot kicked San’s foot and he rolled his eyes upwards slowly in response. “Hyunjin,” He acknowledged.

Hyunjn’s eyes scrunched up into half moons, malicious delight beaming from them. “I’ve got a job for you.”

“I don't do jobs for you,” San retorted and closed his eyes again.

“It’s an order from my father,” Hyunjin said tightly.

San sighed heavily. “What is it?”

“It’s time for you to hunt down a little lost human,” Hyunjin revealed.

San rolled his eyes and stood up. He rolled his neck, cracking it dramatically. “Why do I feel like this has to do with you?”

To say that San did not like Hyunjin was an understatement. San was a useful tool to have in the household he was adopted into but Hyunjin was the prized son. Where San was made to work and toil, sneered at by the majority of his peers, Hyunjin was sought after, praised and elevated. The two had never liked each other; Hyunjin because San was the son his father chose and San Hyunjin because he was never a beloved son.

“It doesn’t matter why the command was given, just follow it like the good little doggie you are,” Hyunjin sneered.

“At least I didn’t flee my family because I couldn't live up to their expectations,” San shot back, balling his fists and readying for a fight.

But San would get none. Hyunjin’s power was not in his fists but in his words. “Go fetch my scraps, doggie. That’s all you’re good for, after all.” Hyunjin threw a piece of personal clothing of yours at San and turned around.

Every muscle in San’s body tensed but he knew he could not attack his benefactor’s son. He would lose the tiny foothold he had in the Oidhche Court, however tiny it was, it was something he clung to. He would always want to be a part of the Fae, to prove he was worthy of remaining amongst them; that he was not an animal.

Hyunjin walked away, confident that he came out on top, and from his point of view, he had. But San had the true last word.

“I’ll fetch her and come back and be told that I am his most worthy son, that you are worthless, and that I should have been born to him.”

🐕🐕🐕

San transformed to his other form, a Hound of the hunt, in order to use his abilities to the best. His sleek, powerful form ran through the Oidhche dark woods and marshes, ruins and lakes. He followed your scent, nose to the ground, taking only time to drink water and rest only minutes at the time. His endurance could take him far but his determination even farther.

Something San did not call was that he would encounter another Fae on the hunt. He drew abreast with a horse that was not a horse. San recognized Kai in his other form, the dark horse with long fangs, a Kelpie.

Kai, like himself, was a bit of an outcast within the Oidhche court. Kai had slowly become blind when he changed courts and was looked down upon, like San was as a half-breed. They weren’t friends but more like allies in a world that saw them as the bottom of the barrel of Fae.

Kai threw his head to signal that they should veer towards a nearby lake and San barked in reply. The two of them slowed their pace and then changed forms, to speak to each other.

“Didn’t expect to see you here,” San said first, cupping his hands and pouring water over his head from the lake.

Kai looked amused. “I’m hunting a human but what’s your excuse?”

“Fetching trash for the master’s son,” San grumbled.

Kai’s amusement slowly melted away. “You should snap it’s neck then.”

San ran a hand through his hair, shaking out access water, and stood up. “Wish I could. You know we can never interfere with a hunt. An escaped human is an escaped human.”

Kai’s slightly amused expression was back and present. San recognized it as Kai’s default face, the mask he wore at court. “Then we should do what’s in our power to help each other out.” Kai gestured with his chin towards the lake that spanned far and wide. “I’ll help you cross the lake.”

San shutdown the feeling of gratitude and surprise he felt immediately. Kai wouldn’t be able to see it anyways but his court training of not truly revealing what he felt kicked in regardless. “That would be appreciated.”

Kai waded into the water and changed form once again. This was his third form, his truest form. His upper half was that of a horse and the lower part of a fish. San rode on Kai’s upper back, amazed at the speed of the kelpie. That lower half that was tail helped them sail through the lake’s waters and Kai’s Kelpie presence kept all the other, nastier, baser Fae away. What would have been hours of circling around the lake was cut in half as Kai swam through the center of the lake and delivered San on the other shore.

Kai changed back to his human form to rest but jauntily saluted San as San turned back into a hound and went back to his hunt.

📗📗📗

Your attitude once you were inside the dark forest was a bit 50/50. Your heart was in your throat, knowing at any moment a Fae Hound would be on your heels, and you were excited for that, but what if he never changed into his human form? What if he simply clamped his jaws around your wrist and dragged you back to his master…back to Hyunjin?

Soon, you felt like the forest was fighting against you. Branches tore at your bare arms as if they were trying to slow you down. Roots threw themselves in your way, trying to trip you up. Noises, that which you had never heard during the years you had lived in the Fae Realm, haunted you. There was a small part of your human mind that knew you shouldn’t be here but was that a part of the dark spell that was this forest or was that instinct kicking in for you to survive?

Your lower half was slick and wet, preparing for someone to fuck you and that conflicted with your state of mind. How could you be so turned on but so terrified about what was around each thick, gnarled tree trunk? Did your heart beating in your throat add to the throbbing of your cunt? It had been so very long since the last time Hyunjin had fucked you, perhaps this hadn't been a good idea to tempt yourself, and fate, like this…

A loud howl broke through your inner thoughts and you shivered in response. The hound had found you. You knew it in your bones that this was the defining moment that would free you… or break you.

You broke out into a run, stumbling at first and then becoming hyper aware of everything. The rocks that you had to jump over, ducking under low-hanging branches, you ran in the opposite direction of where the howl had sounded.

“Please, please, please, please,” You chanted to yourself. Tears pricked the corner of your eyes, the need to fuck and to survive prompting them. You dashed them away with the back of your hand. That wasn’t going to help.

Soon, the howls began to get closer, and you could hear sharp barks. Did he smell your scent as a human or did he smell how wet your sex was? Was he eager for the hunt or for your cunt? Your heart and mind were working a million miles per second, the unknown playing with your mind.

A growl made you jump and you almost tripped and hit the ground. You caught yourself, pushing back up and running. You didn’t dare look back, afraid you would lose your courage in completing this if you did. You did hear a snapping of jaws and a snarl and you hoped that your planning would all work out in the end. It had to.

You gasped as something hard and real slammed into you and you finally fell. There were no nails digging into your shoulder blades nor teeth snapping at you, so you felt relief to know that the hound had changed into his humanoid form and sealed his fate.

The snarl in your ear was just as real as the body pressed up against you, pushing you into the soft, forest floor. The snarling tampered down to a quiet, curious growl. You could feel puffs of air along the skin behind your ear and then down your neck. Your pulse was beating wildly and you were worried for a moment that instead of this moment pushing towards lust, it would turn towards bloodshed like its original intent.

You pushed your ass back into the body above you and the snarling started up again. “Do not struggle, human, it’s futile.” The one on top of you was Fae, you knew that, but his melodic voice was not what you had expected.

“I think you like the struggle, pup,” You shot back at him.

You pushed and rubbed your ass further into the hard body and struggled to halt your smirk. You could feel him hard against the soft material of your dress. His hips pressed forward to pin you harder but he only managed to choke on a moan at the friction.

Just as soon as your body had been pushed against the ground, you were flipped over and hauled up with a harsh hand around your upper arm. The sharp cut of his jaw and cheekbones almost took the breath from your lungs, despite living amongst the beautiful fae for so long.

The hound opened his mouth to probably threaten you some more but no sound left it. His eyes scanned over your dress, that was ripped in a few places that definitely aided in your plan. The globes of your breasts were pushed up, the swell of your hips framed by the cut-outs in the dress, it was the perfect peekaboo dress.

His eyes snapped upwards to meet yours. “Where did you get such a garment?”

You smiled sweetly. “I live amongst the Fae. Is it so odd to acquire a few pieces of their beautiful clothing?”

The hound shook his head, almost as if he needed to clear it. “I’m taking you back now.”

You were still in close proximity, so you boldly pressed your hand to his tight leather pants. “This poses a problem, does it not?”

The whimper that escaped the hound’s lips made you clench your thighs tightly together. Anger immediately radiated from him. “Stop with your human tricks.”

You cocked your head. “Tricks? But I’m a mere human. What could I possibly offer?” The heel of your hand grinded down on the head of his cock and he gasped softly.

The hound grabbed your wrist and wretched your hand from his cock. His shoulders moved slightly, indicating you’ve got his breathing increased at least. “I am under a vow of celibacy, you will cease your antics.”

You raised an eyebrow at him. “A willing vow of celibacy?”

The hound kept his grip on your wrist and began to tug you back the way he came. “I am a mongrel; I cannot further pollute the bloodlines,” He muttered over his shoulder.

You tugged back, trying to halt your movement, but just ended up slamming into the broad back of the Fae sent to bring you back to your life of torture and tedium. “I’m not Fae. You won’t muck up my bloodlines.”

You felt rather than heard the sigh from the hound. “A vow is a vow. Now, be quiet, it was hard enough tracking you down from one kingdom to another.”

Instead, you wrapped your arms around his tiny waist, fingers tracing his padded leather armor. “We don’t have to head back so soon,” you purred.

Once again, you were manhandled. Both of his hands clamped down on your wrists. With movement speed beyond a human’s comprehension, you were whisked around his body and pinned up against a tree now, your wrists in manacles made by his hands, the bark digging into your back.

“I don’t know what your intentions are, and I do not want to know. All I know is that I’ve been ordered to track a human pet that’s escaped from the Ciaradh kingdom and to drag her back. I’ve been ordered to bring you back alive but accidents can happen.” And in all his righteous anger, he was a glory to behold. You had struck gold, to be hunted by such a Fae.

You licked your lips in anticipation. You hooked one of your legs around his slim waist and arched your back. “Is it really breaking your vow if you slid into me just a wee bit? Surely getting your tip wet isn’t against the rules.”

You watched as the hound’s adam’s apple moved up and down as he swallowed. “Why do you tempt me?” He whined, perhaps already feeling the temptation you were offering.

“You are temptation itself,” You whispered back. Your eyes moved over his features, strong and handsome. “How could one not want to tempt you?”

He scoffed, looking away. “You are a human drunk on Fae magic.”

“I have lived for a long time amongst the Fae. Their magic isn’t as strong as it used to be on me. I speak no lies,” You pushed.

The hound examined you for a moment, pursed his lips and then looked away again. “You could be lying about a lie, you are human after all, and do not have to adhere to our ways.”

“What do they call you, hound?” You wondered, feeling yourself falling into your own trap, in a way.

The hound’s eyebrows furrowed in genuine confusion. “Why? I am nothing.” He shook his head. “You are a peculiar human.” When he saw you still waiting patiently, he professed his name was San.

“San,” You tested it out, like it was candy on your tongue. “It’s a good name to scream during ecstasy.”

You watched as his eyes changed, a fraction from his righteous anger, to curiosity. He simply did not understand why you were offering what you were. Surely he was used to the games the Fae played, he was one of them after all. But he did mention he was a mongrel. Perhaps he did not get treated as one of them?

You took the moment to wrap your other leg around his waist. San’s arms flexed to balance out the weight so that your upper half was still pinned successfully as your lower half pressed against him. “I’m offering a taste. Don’t you want it?”

“I have been celibate for more years than you have been trapped here,�� San whispered, a tinge of sadness coating his words.

You weren’t sure when was the last time Hyunjin touched you. It had been so long that you gave up ever hoping for it again. It was odd to have such a thing in common with one of them. Your body was practically singing for San. This was how you survived but couldn't you perhaps enjoy it as well?

You rolled your body against San’s again, groaning lowly when your completely uncovered bottom half ran against San’s leather-covered groin. “Please.”

San’s precarious control snapped like a leash on a feral dog. His lips slanted over yours, tongue tangling with yours. His hands released your wrists and connected at the small of your back, urging your body against his. He sighed into your mouth, this time of relief instead of defeat, still kissing you in earnest, messy and full of saliva. Your hands curled around his jaw in an attempt to hold him in place, to gain control, but there was none of that with San.

He led the pace and the pace was grueling. He was rutting against you and you were very sensitive due to the aphrodisiac, the Faerie Dew, you had drunk. “Wait, wait,” You protested against his mouth, “You should be inside me, not against me.”

San panted heavily now, eyes wary and dangerous. “I should not. We can circumvent my vow this way. Simply take what I can give you, human.”

His sentence gave you a bad taste in your mouth, similar to how you felt after interactions with Hyunjin.

“Oh human!”

“My name is Ash,” You snapped.

San narrowed his eyes on you. “And I'm the Fae in charge of hunting you down. The Hound. We all know our place by now.”

You reached between your bodies and desperately pulled at the ties of his pants, undoing them and revealing something mouth-watering. Hyunjin had always been long and slender, but San’s cock was heavy and thick, something that looked like it deserved to part lower lips. “Goddess,” you cursed under your breath.

“Just the tip, right?” San reminded you, tongue coming out to lick his lips.

“Just the tip,” You reassured him and then sunk down on his cockhead.

You both groaned in unison, eyes rolling into the back of your heads. You started to move your hips when San’s hands grasped them hard. “Don’t move,” He ordered you.

“I plan on doing more than moving,” You informed him, lifting a little only to push him further into your heat.

“You--you can’t,” San whined, his eyes getting a faraway look.

“Who would imagine, a Fae pussy-drunk on a human’s cunt.”

San’s eyes sharpened on you. He pulled out of you completely and you almost cried out at the loss before he slammed into you full-hilt. Your breath was caught in your throat at that moment. You were so full and he was so thick--

“What’s wrong, Ash, stupid from my dumb mongrel cock?” San hissed into your ear. His nose ran along your neck, inhaling deeply.

“It’s so--” You desperately shook your head. You had a plan to enact, you couldn't afford to fall into the lust so deeply. Your life depended on this.

The hard snap of San’s hip against you had your body jolting. San’s eyes zeroed in on the mounds of your breast bouncing because of his harsh pace. He withdrew and then snapped into you, his head dipping low to lick the tops of your breasts. “So good,” He growled.

You wrapped your arms around San’s head, pushing him into your bosom. “Indulge in me,” You encouraged him.

“I--” San raised his head, looking as if he was barely treading water from his lust-filled mind.

“Take it,” You whispered, pressing your forehead back to his. “Take what’s freely offered. Take what you’ve been denied.”

San’s eyebrows furrowed again, pain and pleasure etched across his strong features. “I can?”

You reached down to the neckline of your dress and ripped it effectively freeing your breasts. “You can have whatever you want, San.”

It was off to the races after that. With the freedom to indulge, to experience, to take what he had been denied for so long, San was lost in his urges. He licked and sucked all over your breasts, leaving marks and bites, even whimpering when he fought over the need to hold them in place or leave his hands on your hips so he could hold you in place. His thrusts were calculated sometimes, looking to hit that sweet spot inside of you, to hear your moans of his name. The rest was lost to his passion, fucking into your wet pussy in search of his climax.

“Oh, Goddess, yes,” You cried out, feeling your climax approach. “Fill me up, pup.”

San’s eyes took on a look of fear for a moment. “I can’t!” You realized you had said the wrong thing.

“You can, you can!” You held his head between your hands, making him focus on just you. “I’m just a useless human cunt, right? You can just fuck me like you were fucking your hand. It’s the same thing.”

San shook his head. “It’s not the same. You don’t look at me with derision or perverse pleasure. You don’t play with me, you encourage me, you…”

You began to panic. Where was the feared Hound, the legendary Fae from the Oidhche court, who executed others with his teeth dug into their jugular, just at the whim of his master? Who was this creature peeking out of the mask, looking for softness, looking for heart? Fuck, what was that pushing feeling at the base of San’s cock?

You looked down and took San’s gaze with you as well. He paled at the sight of the base of his cock pushing outwards, almost as if-- “Nonono,” San began to chant, “I cannot--!”

You had to throw all caution to the wind, despite the worry that you were about to be connected to a Fae for a few hours, by the looks of things. Not what you wanted when you were about to make said Fae break a very important oath, but there was no avoidance of it, it seemed.

“Follow your instincts,” You whispered before slanting your lips over his. Your teeth tugged playfully with his bottom lip. “Let us both see the stars behind our eyes, come on, San.”

San whined but thrusted up into your cunt. “So close,” he allowed, closing his eyes as if he couldn't witness his own treachery.

You moved your body up and down on his length, encouraging his head into your bosom once again. “Fuck me San, fuck me full of your cum, release inside of me, release your beast, let yourself go.”

With a loud howl, his back arched and his head thrown back, San ejaculated inside of you. He panted and sighed and then the knot at the base of his dick stopped, the copious amount of cum he had just dumped inside of you, firmly sealed inside of you. The knot pushed against your g-spot and sent you into a spiraling orgasm you didn’t see coming.

You gasped, squeezing San even tighter to your breasts. “That’s it, pup, fuck, that feels so good.”

With a precious look sent up towards you, filled with raw emotion, San closed his eyes and then bit onto the mound of your tit. You were so deep into your climax that you almost didn’t register the pain but the flood of emotions that weren’t your own into your skull sure let you know what you had let happen a second time…

“San!” You panicked. “You! You imprinted on me!” What did that mean? Wait…

“Mine,” San said drowsily. A wave of satisfaction was felt through the new bond as he lazily lapped at your breast and then he started to sink to the ground.

“San? San!” You protested, your dress barely protecting you against the bark rubbing against you as you sunk with him.

“Tired,” He mumbled. His tongue absent-mindedly licked at his bite.

You had a dick tight inside of you, a large Fae slumped against you, and your tit hurt from a bite. This was not really how you were looking to finish this plan but perhaps this worked even better in your favor.

📗📗📗

“What have you done?!”

That rage and fear woke you up reasonably fast.

“What I had to do to get what I wanted,” You replied quickly.

“I have broken my vow!” San moaned, pacing a few steps from you.

You preened at your success. “And thus, you cannot go back. They will see your word broken. You will be worthless.”

San stopped his pacing. “...you planned this?”

“I've lived here for centuries and you think I'd just up and run away?” You sneered at him. “I may be human but I am not stupid.”

“And now I've even imprinted on you!” San looked horrified.

“That was your fault, I didn't do--”

Your words were choked off as San’s hands wrapped around your throat, long nails digging into the thin flesh of your neck. Your fingers clawed at him to let you go. San bared his teeth at you, peaks of fangs flashing between his lips that had previously been kissing you. A mental image of San’s raw glance before he bit you rushed through your mind and you whimpered.

San let you go just as fast as he started choking you. “You have ruined my life.”

You choked and coughed and gasped for air and choked again. “And I'd do it again. I'd do anything for my freedom.”

San started pacing again. “What is freedom when you have a home? You live in the Fae Realm, your life extended. All your days are warm and you do what you love. What is it that you're running away from?”

That's when it hit you. You weren't connected to Hyunjin anymore. You didn't have to feel anything of his mind or emotions again. You were finally free. You smiled in glee.

“It's not what I'm running away from, it's what I'm running towards,” You rasped.

San sent you a look that could have cut diamonds. “Do not wax poetic to me, human. I will only fall for it once.”

You raised your chin. “You will escort me to the nearest mushroom circle. I will leave this place.”

San shook his head, grinning and shaking his head. “You are truly not right in the head! What if you crumble into a pile of dust once you leave?”

“Then I will die disconnected from a man who broke my heart and that will make me happy,” You said firmly.

San carded his hand through his hair in frustration. “I can feel how determined you are!” He didn't say anything about the broken heart.

“And I'll have died after having some of the best sex I've ever had in my entire life.” San didn't need to know your only comparison was a village boy named Jake, Hyunjin and now he.

San frowned hard at you. “You still smell like it.”

“There's a lake back there--”

San stepped in your way. “No, you won't bathe there.”

You fetched your pack and changed into the set of clothes in there. “Make up your mind, San.”

You examined the bite on your breast mid-change, tutting at the mark that was now going to be there for the rest of your life. You patted your shoulder for the mark you had on your shoulder but without a mirror, you were unsure if it had healed or it would remain as well, even though it was nothing more than a scar rather than a tool to use against you.

“Do you have anything for the bite?” He asked.

“I have only food, water and clothing. I wanted to pack lightly for the journey,” You admitted.

San sighed. “I…I have a power. They don’t let me use it--I don’t want to use it! But… I’ve seen what happens to Fae when the one they’re imprinted with dies, so I will help you.”

You eyed him cautiously. “Pardon me if I don’t jump at the offer.”

“I’m not! Trying to trick you!” San insisted. His face was open and honest.

But still, your trust was not easily won. You shook your head. “No. You’ve done enough damage.”

“Fine!” San huffed and immediately turned back into his hound form.

You swallowed hard, memories of that same hound hot on your heels, chasing you through the woods--you couldn't help it when a whimper escaped your throat.

San’s head cocked in curiosity and he padded over to you closely. You held still as he sniffed your head. You couldn't help but ease a bit when he licked your cheek. And then he licked your wound that you left uncovered in hopes it would heal in the open air. But when the bite started to tingle, you yelped backwards from him.

“What did you do?!” You demanded.

San whined and dug a foot into the soft ground. It seemed somewhat of an apology.

But when you looked down next, you watched as the bite healed. Oh, the scar was there, but it was as if it was days, even weeks healed. Did San’s tongue have healing abilities? Perhaps it was a result of his mixed heritage.

You shook your finger at him. “Just because you're in dog form, that doesn’t mean I won’t hit you!”

San’s head lowered and then he began to sniff the ground. He slowly followed its meander trail until he was almost in between your legs. You slapped his snout and he yelped. “I get it, I smell like sex, that does not excuse your nose from going to where it shouldn’t.”

San sneezed and you rolled your eyes. “Can you lead us to the nearest faerie ring or not?”

You followed San in hound form in a quick jog, the pace that the hound of the hunt set grueling for someone who spent the majority of their time sitting and writing. San would only wait for a few minutes as you gasped for breath and then he would bark sharply at you and you two would start running again.

“San! San, I can’t.” Eventually you called it quits, collapsing at a copse.

San transformed into his human form and sent you a disappointed look. “We would be twice as far if you weren’t a human.”

“Sorry I can’t change into a dog,” You spat.

“No but you sure are a bitch,” San spat back.

“Takes one to know one,” You retorted.

The two of you snapped and snarled at each other for the entire journey it took to get to the nearest faerie ring. This one was located deep in one of the dark forests, surrounding a tree that had a gap in the front of it; almost as if it was a door to the Mortal Realms.

“I can’t believe it.” It was almost too good to be true, that your plan had truly worked out and you were finally escaping the Fae--and leaving your past mistakes behind you. You knew the chances were slim that your sister was still alive, but if you had the chance to apologize to her, to tell her she had been right…

San stood a ways off, looking very closed off. “It’s not that different,” you conceded to him.

“I’ve never been there,” San admitted, face still very shut down.

“If a fragile human can live in your world,” You sent a knowing look his way.

You watched as San visibly straightened and shook his head. “You’re right.”

“Imagine that,” You muttered under your breath.

The two of you stood shoulder to shoulder, and for a moment, you were both equals. You were unsure, San was unsure, and neither of you wanted to be the first. So when you brushed San’s hand against his, and after a moment of hesitation he took it, you both stepped through the faerie ring and back into the Mortal Realms

📗📗📗🐕🐕🐕

It was a rough month when you crossed over. You were very lucky that only a day had passed in the Mortal Realms instead of centuries. You found your sister and she was in tears that you had left but you had a lot of explaining to do--especially when you came back with a different man that you had left with.

Eventually, with help from your sister, you and San were able to settle into a cottage that was in the next village over from where your sister still lived. For better or for worse, you and San had imprinted and that basically meant you two were married, so the illusion had to be maintained. You wrote and found a publisher in the closest big city, earning some coin in that regard, but San became a hunter for the surrounding villagers and that was truly how you were able to survive.

Regardless of how much San informed you on the daily that you had ruined his life and it was your fault he had to work for his keep, you saw a change in the Fae. The village was more than happy to receive the kills he took from the forest, unaware he actually took down the prey in his other form. San was very easily received in the village and that seemed to be the turning point for him. Other hunters and men of the village joked with him and you saw him lose the sharp edges he had acquired growing up in the Fae Realm.

One morning, when San had risen from your shared bed with the sun, to hunt, you lurched from the bed yourself and barely found your basin before you threw up into it.

San wrinkled his nose at you, one leg lifting to be put into his boot. “If you’re sick--” He paused, sniffing the air and then his eyes widened. You felt fear and hope surge through your bond with him.

You waved him off. “I’m sure it’s nothing you can catch.”

San blushed and that threw you off. He quickly put both his boots on and found a cloth for you to wipe your face with. You stared at him with intense scrutiny. Although the two of you lived like husband and wife, San didn’t go out of his way to be kind to you. You were the reason he was reduced to a mortal’s boring life, after all.

“Ash…” San offered his hand to you, and you took it, but you were confused.

“What’s going on?” You demanded.

San looked a bit bashful, running his thumb over the back of your hand. “You are going to have to endure a change in me. It is a part of a Fae male to become extremely territorial when their partner is pregnant--”

“Excuse you!?” You screeched.

San flinched at your volume. “You’re pregnant, Ash.”

You blinked at him several times, still unable to comprehend. “But we haven’t…”

San’s eyes shot upwards to the ceiling. “It only takes one time.”

You felt your knees weaken and San quickly escorted you to your bed to sit. “It can’t be.”

“I can smell the change in your smell. You have morning sickness. Have you bled since we’ve been back?” San inquired gently.

You shook your head. “I just thought my body was adjusting from one realm to the other, I didn’t--”

A child only bound the two of you tighter. Your heart sank. San was only going to hate you more for this. “I promise, I didn’t plan this!” You protested.

“Human,” San started and you felt anger surge through you.

“Don’t you dare make our baby hate me, you will not refer to me as such in their presence!”

San, the bugger, had the audacity to smile shyly. “I would never think of it.”

You frowned. “Why are you being so weird? Why aren’t you yelling at me?”

San shrugged. “I told you. Things are going to change.”

And change they did. Your sister was ecstatic. Not completely won over by San personally, she still admitted he was a good provider and in the very least, she was excited for a new niece or nephew. You worried about her approval but it seemed like she had no care for the fact that it was part Fae.

The biggest change was San. His shrewd eyes were always on you. You never seemed to have enough pillows or blankets to cover you or keep you comfortable. He was constantly asking if you needed more food. He worried about the baby non stop. But the minute he pushed his head against your stomach, to use his hound hearing to listen to the baby’s heart, a soft smile would pull at his lips and your own heart would feel as if it was about to burst.

Your mood swings affected you the most, after your morning sickness, and San took those in strides. There were times when you threw anything within arms length at him and then there were others where you sobbed into his arms, and he rocked you in sympathy. You didn’t know how you felt, carrying a child into this world that had been born from trickery. You felt slimy, truth be told, and you didn’t want the baby to carry that into this world.

Until one night, when you were reading in bed, San crawled into your shared bed and scooted over until you had to sit up to let his arm curl around you. “Ash,” He called out your fake name to grab your attention.

You hummed in acknowledgement and closed your book. “What is it, San?”

“I think I should tell you this, before our baby is born,” San said solemnly, hand slipping over your protruding belly.

This was it. San was going to inform you that once the baby was born, things would go back to how they were before. He would despise every breath you breathed and it would grate your nerves to live with a man who hated you. You braced yourself; you had been somewhat preparing for this.

“Although it was not your intention, you bringing me into the Mortal Realm has let me realize that I was not living a life before this. In the Fae Realms, I was considered not of them. They begrudgingly even acknowledged I existed. But here… with your sister and the village… they are happy I'm here. They enjoy my presence. I have never known such a feeling of belonging.” San paused swallowing and you felt nervousness through your bond. “And you. You have had to endure living with me, who cut you any time my mouth opened. You are with child from a man… no, a mongrel, a monster, who despised you. Yet, don't think I haven't seen you retrieving the few paintings Hyunjin had gifted you of the place he had grown up in. You hung up paintings done by the Fae you despised, just so that I could have pieces of my home here. I know how much it means to have a reminder of him.”

You pressed your lips together. San had never mentioned the paintings. You didn't think he even noticed them. “Well--!”

“Let me finish,” San said, cutting you off firmly but gently. “I have every reason to thank you but my stubborn self could not. But you need to know that you are my mate, and I do not regret imprinting on you, because in that moment, you had truly made me feel like I was important and I will love a child that was born from that union.”

Your throat tightened and tears threatened to escape. “That's lovely, San.”

San lifted his hand from your belly and used it to tilt your head to meet his gaze. “I will love the child… just as I love you.”

You could feel it. There was no lying with the bond that existed between you two. San truly loved you. It wasn't the grand romance you had once felt for Hyunjin but that wasn't a bad thing. Your love for Hyunjin burned brightly but went out just as quickly. The love San had for you was fragile but it was hopeful. And if you nurtured it…

“San, I--” Your heart was beating wildly but you found that it was not as bruised as it once was from Hyunjin’s false words. You leaned to San’s cheek and whispered into his ear your true, real name.

San reeled back, surprise and shock all over his face. “You honor me, wife of mine.” By bestowing your name upon him, you acknowledged that you trusted him with something he could use to have complete control over you. It was better than saying I love you.

You smacked his chest at the ‘wife’ comment, however, and San let out a high pitch giggle that you weren't aware he was even capable of. You stared at San like he was a completely different person.

San’s eyes grew hooded and he drew you in close. You protested, sensing the taste of lust from the bond, but he didn’t let you go against your half-hearted struggle.

“The midwife suggested that mounting my wife would aid her in feeling like she wasn't a lump on the log and would ease her moods,” San purred.

“So you're saying you're doing this just because the midwife suggested it?” You raised your eyebrow at him.

“No, I wish to make my wife happy,” San said, leaning in, his lips whisper-close.

“I am happy, San,” You said softly.

San grinned. “Then let's make you elated.”

La Fin

#Thrill of the Hunt #cultofdionysusnet #pirateeznet #kvanity #kwritersworldnet #hwang hyunjin scenarios #choi san smut #stray kids scenarios #ateez smut #hwang hyunjin smut #stray kids smut #ateez scenarios #choi san scenarios #topaz's work #ღatz #➸skz

186 notes · View notes

arcanetoymakerau · 4 months ago

Text

It looks like I'm back in a comic mood... more like a manga mood, to be honest lol. This comic will show more of Jinx's powers and ideals from this AU.

I'll be using manga formatting because it's the one I'm more comfortable working with, but don't worry if you're not used to it; the panels and speech balloons will be numbered.

If you're not into LoL lore: the masked one is Kindred (the lamb half, to be specific), they are a reaper + death itself of some sorts.

#the toymaker au #alternative universe #arcane #arcane jinx #jinx #arcane league of legends #league of legends #jinx the toymaker #jinx the loose canon #jinx league of legends #jinx fanart #kindred #kindred lol

47 notes · View notes

wordstome · 1 year ago

Text

Single Dad!König (Dream Daddy au)

(+ a bit of Ghost under the cut)

Thank you to everyone who indulged (said exactly what I asked them to say 😅) me.

Here’s the paragraph I wrote:

I imagine his heart sinking when Ava comes home sad and quiet, unwilling to look her dad in the eye. He recognizes what that means: that used to be him as a kid. His worst fears are confirmed when Ava admits she's being harassed by a boy at school, replaced by anger when Ava says her teachers simply shrugged and told her that boys will be boys, and has she considered that maybe he just has a crush on her? Needless to say, by the time König's walking out of that school, nobody will ever be hurting his little girl ever again. Honestly, one glimpse of Ava's dad by her classmates will keep her free from bullying for the rest of her life.

Now here’s a bit more about single dad König, namely, how he came to be a dad…and single :( Angst and death tw ahead (nothing graphic)

With Ghost, I said he would only have had Caden due to an accident, because of Simon’s previous trauma involving his family. He was firmly in the mindset that he would die in the field, he’s just not built for civilian life anymore, he's a danger to everyone who loves him. However, when Caden shows up at his doorstep, all he can think about is Tommy and his nephew Joseph when he looks at the boy. He probably does his best to get Caden sent to a different family member, but let’s suspend our disbelief that any responsible social worker would leave a kid with Simon “Ghost” Riley for a moment and say that the social worker is like “It’s you or the foster care system.” Realistically, Simon would probably be like “foster care is safer than living with me” but for the purposes of the AU, he took the kid in.

With König, he doesn’t have the same trauma/hangups regarding kids and family. He’s in the same boat as Simon: he’s a human weapon, and can’t function properly in civilian life. For König, his work is an outlet and keeps him stable. I’m gonna have to sit down and make a proper post about my König’s character (Alexander), but for my König, violence is a method of regulating his emotions and a way to manage his anxiety. Having power and being hyper competent in the field is key to his mental stability. However, I think he would be able to settle down, it would just take a very patient, special woman. (For the purposes of the AU his first partner is AFAB she/her.) Here’s where I start breaking hearts… 🤭

In Dream Daddy au, König considers his first wife the love of his life. She deeply understood him as a person and wasn’t afraid of him, even when he was socially awkward and intimidating. They were honestly kindred spirits: both of them had their neuroses and flaws, but instead of trying to fix each other or mold the other into some ideal partner, they accepted each other and thus were able to grow together. (And tbh they were already a match made in heaven anyway.) König’s wife never asked him to quit, and was completely ready to raise a child with him frequently being gone. She was a badass woman, and she really, really wanted to start a family with him, so they had Ava.

For three years, König was probably the happiest he’s been in a long time, and if you asked him he’d probably say it was the happiest time in his life. He was moving up the ranks at work, his mental health was in check, and he had a wife and adorable little daughter to go home to every leave. He started planning to transfer to a safer/more stable position, because as much as the military has done for him, he’s ready to step up as a father and a husband. Then he gets a call that changes his life forever, and suddenly he doesn’t get a choice anymore.

(I'm eternally sorry to the little fictional people I made up in my head because I entertained the idea of putting the Brooklyn 99 "Guess who got murdered!" gif here...)

One thing y'all need to know about my man Alexander is that he is the embodiment of "I am not meant for casual. I was born for soul-crushing devotion." His problem is that he never had devotion before his wife: he craved it like a starving man, and it engulfed him like water flowing into a basin when he got it. He had it for a handful of years (I'm thinking 6 but that's a flexible number), and now it's gone again. You know in movies when something horrible happens and they cut all the noise and there's just a high pitched ringing sound? That's König getting that phone call.

God. All I can imagine is König dropping everything and taking the next flight home. He’s in a daze, in a way that he’s never quite been before. His mind is finally quiet, but the emptiness is not peaceful. Then he finally sees his little girl, she runs into his arms, and the dam bursts. He just holds her and cries. He’s numb, a dead man walking throughout all the business that needs to be taken care of after his wife’s death. The only thing that brings him back to the land of the living is Ava. She’s so small, so sweet, and she doesn’t really understand what death means: all she knows is that her mama’s gone somewhere, and her dad is so, so sad all the time. She’s all that keeps him going, and the only reason he keeps himself alive.

By the time you come into his life, it’s been several years, but Ava is still a little girl. She doesn’t remember her mother at all except what König tells and shows her, because he’s determined to keep her memory alive. König’s been slowly rebuilding who he is as a person from whatever scraps are left. There’s a gaping hole inside him, and he’s reconstructed himself around the hole. In some ways he’s a totally new man, in other ways, he’s gone back to who he was before his wife came along. He’s bitter and angry at the way his life has treated him just as he was as a young man, but now he’s swallowed up by guilt and self loathing. He's gotten better at coping and functioning as the years have passed and life has continued on, but his grief has never really gone away.

(alexa, play "right where you left me" by taylor swift)

#HERE BUCCA GOES WRITING ESSAYS ABOUT A FICTIONAL MAN AGAIN #i spared you guys the 2 extra paragraphs about König’s changed perspective on death and mortality #könig #konig #könig cod #konig cod #simon ghost riley #simon riley #cod #call of duty #cod mw2 #dream daddy au

144 notes · View notes

neosero · 11 months ago

Text

[ 01:15pm ] and sometimes you have to remind yourself they’re gods |

pt. ii Fontaine Version |

[ 12:30am ] and yet, you still resist

wc | 4.1k+ total

noteworthy warnings | gn!reader; dark themes; descriptions of drowning, death, false descriptions of the primordial sea aftermath, spoilers for archon quest 4.2 and beyond ( furina ); implied-kidnapping, false imprisonment [ ? ], i do not know how the court of law works womp womp, spoilers for version 4.2 and beyond ( special mention )

THE HYDRO ARCHON Focalors Furina | wc. 2.2k+

Have you heard…

The only place in all of Teyvat where rumors hold merit lies within Fontaine. Although it is the kingdom built on the ideals of a just society, its citizens aren't privy to the appeals of a tantalizing scandal or a possible scoop that has yet to hit The Steambird front page.

( What hasn't been proven within the Court, is just another wave in the sea of lies. )

A saying often passed around when undisclosed news spreads like spilled wine throughout the streets, but it’s only to show faux indifference. Even the most proper of citizens still sit with bated breaths awaiting the next whispered word on the street.

Especially when it's in relation with that of the Regina of all waters, kindreds, people and law. Lady Furina De Fontaine.

…she was there you know. The day of the Mont. Esus massacre.

"What are you doing here?"

Furina jumps in surprise, completely absorbed in her thoughts that she didn’t hear your approach. She is quick to recover though, fixing her posture and outstretching her arms diagonally. “Can an Archon not come to bask in the scenery of her domain?" She spins slowly, sunlight aided with the gentle breeze to illuminate the flow of her garments.

You push air through your nose. "Right my apologies, your grace." You bow just as exaggerated as the woman before you. She smiles to herself at the gesture, returning the bow herself. Just as you stand upright she grasps your hand, dragging you over to the pond she was previously fixated on so intently.

The water is perfectly stilled, the breeze does nothing to shift its tranquility and the sight of your reflections together is so peaceful. The clouds above dance behind you and some birds even fly overhead to give show. It’s too peaceful.

You pull away from her grasp, unlacing your interlocked hands.

The action brings a ripple through the pond.

"Furina...what are you doing here?" You question more seriously. Not only is it just past midday, around the same time she would normally spend tasting the many delicacies of Fontaine, but also Mont. Esus is too far from the Opera Epiclese. She would never miss a chance to see the scheduled retelling of Mort au bord de L'eau, so for her to be here of all places now isn’t a good sign.

"You hurt me with such inquiries. I just wanted to see the sights, and I find it better for such a celebrity as myself to remain discreet unless I cause such a scene in your peaceful town." Her arms fold over her chest, seeming all too pleased with her own answer. You should be able to take her words as they are, but in light of recent events you can see right through her cover up.

"You come in through the main docks and pass through the main trails of the city — where everyone can see you — to be discreet?"

"Yes, precisely."

"Furina, what's going on? This isn't like you at all." You cross your arms as well, eyebrows cast down in confusion. She shrugs at that, finding it better for once to keep her mouth shut than clear her name. You press on.

"Does this have anything to do with that trial?" The news of the Court is hard to escape, even for those of Fontaine's who choose to stay off the grid like you do. It has become the first widespread topic of the town here; the Hydro Archon wrong!

It’s all anyone would ever talk about since the trials climax and it's been weeks. To be frank, you’re tired of it. Not only has it caused work around the town to slow, but also people have started to believe your close relationship with the archon means you must know every detail. You’ve been fighting for a private moment to yourself for so long it feels weird to not see any people gawking at your every move. With the amount of attention you’ve been getting you can only imagine the scale of paparazzi that have been on Furina’s back.

So, the trial is the only plausible cause and seeing how stiff she gets with the question means you hit a nerve. She looks far more uncomfortable now, gaze turned to the shaking pond beside your feet.

When did this start?

“Everyone has their off days, Furina. I’m sure one wrong verdict won’t kill you.” You had thought the words would give some light relief to the situation, but her body shutters looking paler than she had before. Her neck turns in your direction so quick you fear it would snap. She looked at you almost as if you’d actual meant it. Her expression concerns you, you reach out to her but fall short.

The ground is shaking and you stumble to find good footing. “An earthquake?” You think out-loud, the shaking picks up again with an aggression that throws Furina into your arms. This is no normal earthquake.

…she had the nerve to cry at the trial as if this wasn’t her own undoing.

The tremor increases in ferocity, your balancing wavering as it feels like the earth would open up right underneath your feet. "What's happening?" Furina voice quivers as she clings to you desperately. You cannot tell yourself what this could be but the screams in the distance vocalize the worst possibility. You break away from her, accidentally shoving her to the ground but you cannot find it in yourself to care right now. The quakes have you crawling up the top of the mountain as best you can to catch sight of the commotion from your town below...and it's a ghastly sight.

Buildings explode one by one as the townspeople run for their lives. Geysers in the color of vibrant blues and purples shoot out from where their homes and businesses once stood mere seconds ago. The water ( if you can even call it that ) continues to burst from the earth in great force, forcing many of the people to the ground with its violence. The citizens you can make out from this distance trample over one another, parents screaming for lost children and others yelling for people to get to the docks or any high place away to where it could be safe. It’s a disaster.

And the worst had yet to come.

The geysers let out a gentle rain as the strange liquid pours down to mix in with the blood and tears of the fallen. Slowly one by one the legs of the townspeople can't seem to hold their weight, the hands they use to crawl away with a desperate urgency become translucent and the screams lodged in their throats sink into the now rising waters leaving behind nothing but damp clothes.

They are dissolving.

Furina gasps at your side. The dirt on her knees shows she’s crawled her way up the mountain too. She brings her gloved hands up to shield her from the gruesome sight. You cannot explain why it angers you. Watching her sit here and cower in fear when she is supposed to be a god; it lights a match in your heart. You fall to her level, screaming.

"You’re the Hydro Archon! Furina, do something!" You clutch your archon by the shoulders, grip tight and painful with your distress. Those are your friends down there, your citizens — her beloved kin. She should be diving in to save them and not stuck here rooted to the floor like a child.

"I can't." Furina stutters broken, the tears you hadn’t even noticed continue more fiercely down her face collecting with the snot and drool. You had never seen her this broken before.

"The prophecy...it...I cannot fight this” She hiccups. She continues to mumble words with a meaning you cannot understand even as you let her go. You rack your brain for everything you could possibly do in this situation. A few people in the distance have managed to find a place high enough above ground to beat the rising waters and with enough coverage to block out the acidic rain. If you can get to the docks unscathed and take a boat you could save.

You take a deep breath to calm yourself and stand. Looking out to the sea you can make out a few boats still close to the docks, though the rocking waves could drift them away any moment. You take a few strides backwards. It is now or never.

"Prophecy or whatever, I won't just watch them all die." The glider solidifies on your back, Anemo vision drawing out a faint glow as Furina clutches her top hat as the wind suddenly picks up. Her eyes widen as she watches you turn to the edge of the cliff, "You don't mean to go down there!"

You ignore her, sweat trickling down your temple. You extend your arms ready to dive. Ready to jump.

But she isn't ready to let you go.

Just as your feet leave the ground, Furina hands fly out to grab you. "No!" The thought of you ending up like them, left with nothing but a wad of damp clothing to remember you has her spring into action. She cannot lose you like this, she won't.

She clutches onto the material of your glider tightly preventing your descent. "What are you doing?!" You look behind you as you watch her dangle from the cliff, strange hydro creatures mimicking the ones you have seen along the beaches of Fontaine keep her from falling and you from flying any further out of reach. "Let me go!"

She doesn't budge determined to get you back as these creatures are determined to pull her back to the safety of Mont. Esus...all uncaring of the tearing fabric.

There isn’t enough time to notice it either, not until it's too late. The audible tear brings you both back to reality but everything feels slowed. Her gaze falls to the piece of cloth in her hands and then to your descending body. Your hands outstretched to one another but already too far to reach. With half a functioning glider you cannot steady yourself right, only left to flail and spin uncontrollably into the welcoming embrace of the primordial sea.

Furina doesn’t know why she watches it all. Maybe as a punishment for her inability to live up to being an archon, or a sort of cruel torture to remind herself she is just like everyone else: human.

Whatever it may be, watching you flail and wither in the sea with your arms slowly melting and mixing in with the water. Watching you look up gaze up at her stoic and unwavering in your final moments. Seeing your clothes resurface but not you.

It just shows her how terrifyingly real it all is.

…she still visits the graves apparently; talking, watering and replacing the flowers of one the tombs herself.

It's been six months since the primordial sea almost swallowed Fontaine whole.

Furina kneels with her knees to her chest talking to her reflection in the pond atop of Esus. Her reflection mirrors her every move but the wind distorts the water and leaves the growing clouds in the sky moving at a quick pace trying to follow.

Neuvillette must be overworking himself again.

Even so, she continues to relay the events of the new Fontaine. How the people have grown accustomed to knowing the truth behind her — no, Focalors' lies. The talk of being oceanids is more of a passing joke now than a belief of origin. The people have grown to embrace the Opera once again as well, she even mentions her recent debut as a director. Her smile is as soft and bright as the sun peaking through the clouds. The birds join in her conversation, chirping as they pass by and some circle around her.

It's all so peaceful, until it isn’t.

“Furina.”

The voice is gentle, like a whisper of the wind during a new spring morning. She knows it isn’t behind her or anywhere else around her, so she looks back down to the lake.

Instead of her reflection, it’s you who smiles back.

“Let me go, Furina.”

Her eyes water, just like before.

"I'm so sorry."

A stray tear falls from her cheek into the water and the ripple it leaves changes its color. A once clear blue shifts to the same vibrant purples of that day. Your face isn’t happy anymore, instead that same anger expression that plagues her worst nightmares has returned.

“You’re the Hydro Archon! Do Something!”

“Let me go! Let me go! Let me go!”

The lake begins to bubble as you yell out to her. The grass around the edge dies off slowly, shifting to an ugly black goop. The birds squawk in distress and take flight away from the danger. Even through it all, Furina’s smile never wavers as she stands. She turns away, tears freefalling off her cheeks now as she descends the mountain like every other day.

Your screams follow her along like the howling wind. She clutches a ripped garment into her chest tenderly, the only piece of you she has left to remember.

Have you heard, near the summit of Esus rests Lost Lovers Lagoon - the last place the primordial sea submerged. If you listen closely you can still hear the cries of those lost to the storm. Some say it was left by someone higher than the archons, to remind us not to question the gods ever again. Some say the souls of the guilty go there to rot away. No one really knows how this came to be or why Mount. Esus... no one but the Hydro Archon who still keeps secrets from her people. Never having learned her lesson.

THE HYDRO SOVEREIGN Neuvillette | wc. 1.8k+

"Murderer!"

Your attorney, your mother, tells you to still yourself.

She reminds you not to react to their uncivilized behavior lest you want this to all be for nothing. The court of Fontaine is unforgiving and if you show even the slightest mistake of doubt they will chew you through like wolves to fresh prey. Never in your life have you seen such barbaric treatment in the court of law, but then again you shouldn't have expected much within the land of faux justice.

It's comical how even that thought would have sitting here in the position you are in now. Anything done within this city could be held against you in the court of law: freedom of speech, missing the trash can, accidental injury, hell even unauthorized balloon holding would get you a spot in the opera's next grand showing if you are a criminal or just an accused victim.

You hold your head high in your best attempt to seem unaffected by the heckles that only increase in number and volume. Having only been within the hydro-powered city for a few weeks, it's an action you have to learn lest you would want to gaze upon the walls of the Fortress the next century. Any emotion can make you a guilt-ridden convict under the gaze of the Opera Epiclese, so fighting for the public opinion is the only true way to win the court.

Public opinion here holds more merit than any substantial evidence presented could ever anywhere else in Teyvat. The mockery of the court being held in an opera house only adds more salt to your open wound. For if you fail to entertain in your fight for survival here...

Then what right do you have to continue living anywhere else?

"Retched butcher! You should have never been allowed into our city!"

"Order!" Neuvillette brings his cane down onto the wooden floor. The action rings an echo through the court so loud it stuns the audience into a silence. "I would advise against any more expletives, unless you wish to be escorted outside." His gaze scans through the crowd as they all settle into their seats.

You had believed the only real justice in this city was the man before you. The Iudex of Fontaine, Neuvillette was the overseer of all trials within Fontaine and the final say in every verdict. It is hard enough to see countless trials a week let alone your lifetime. However, he still attends them all, forgoing all personal connections to conduct a fair and just trial for both parties.

You had met the man the first day you arrived in Fontaine. He was there to greet your family and offered his welcomes to your mother for her promotion into the Court. He talked literature with your father to your housing, and even offered him a chance to visit his office to view the past trial records. Of course, you only saw this for its pleasantry; he was your mother's boss so the first meeting would be so polite and formal - for first impression's sake.

So it was only polite of you to allow his lips to grace your palm in greeting. You had believed it to be a foreign greeting, you are overseas and your research of Fontaine's culture and craft had little to do with their way of introduction. However in the eyes of Monsieur Neuvillette, you opened your heart to his courting.

For the trials you had come to see for your mother, a bouquet of flowers would be waiting in your seat with no signed owner. Desserts from the finest bakers would be given to you at restaurants free of charge on the count of a nice gentleman. Your father would come to your room to deliver a package of priceless jewelry that you couldn't even tell him the origin of. All still with no name.

It went on like this for weeks; the boxes kept piling in your room and you had started to send some of the jewels back, you started to decline the desserts having had way too many already and the sight of those flowers constantly brought a shake to your brows. You would have filed a report to the gardes if your secret admirer hadn't made himself known on your way home from lecture. Taking your regular route through the park, it was a surprise to see the Iudex occupying one of the benches. At his side the same set of flowers you cannot seem to escape.

You greet him out of respect and it's a greeting he returns. You both stand there in awkward silence for a while, his gaze piercing as he doesn't bother to look away from you at all. You clear your throat to fill the silence and it seems to snap him out of his daze, outstretching the flowers to you. You take them of course, feigning interest and taking a whiff of them. The smell irritates your nose. "These are lovely."

"You've noticed them."

"Well, they are beautiful and everywhere on display around the city. That and someone keeps sending them to me for some reason." You give a dry laugh picking off some of the petals, but Neuvillette doesn't notice your disinterest in the slightest. He looks almost relieved with your answer.

"Then you've enjoyed the desserts here as well?" The question turns the gears in your head. You raise a brow. "Uhm. They are sweet and delicious but I've had my fill of them until my next lifetime."

This brings a crease to Neuvillette's brows. "Do you not like the deserts, anymore? If the quality is the issue then I can have prepared differently to your tastes better. It shouldn't be too much of an issue with-."

"Wait wait. What are you talking about? Has all of this been you?"

"Yes. Have... have you not known?" He questions back just as confused as you are. These were the methods he has seen used on many of the performers of Fontaine, surely he hadn't taken the wrong approach.

You're baffled. "Of course not! You can't just do stuff like this without getting to know someone first, or informing them you are even interested."

"But is this not how you show interest in a partner?"

His words flow so calmly and yet still confused as if he had made a mistake. You hold the bridge of your nose. It feels like you're teaching a child, how has he not known basic romantic interaction in his time?

"Oh heavens. You're my mother's boss, Monsieur Neuvillette. Even if I had any interest, this wouldn't be right to do." You speak calmly, gesturing to the flowers between you both. "It would raise too many questions and put my mother's job at risk."

"I wouldn't want to get in her way of success, or take you away from the court you really love." Neuvillette takes in your words solemnly, nodding as he brings his hands to his chin.

"Of course. You are right. I was being selfish, please accept my deepest apologies."

You did, if things were different then maybe it could have been. However, as things stand it would just be inappropriate to agree. You hand him back the flowers and bid him farewell. A low rumble of thunder picks up in the sky suddenly, and it leaves you scurrying home trying to save your notes from the intense downpour. Leaving Neuvillette behind drenched in his sorrows.

Of course you should have known better, things are never that easy. There are no tragedies within this city, Neuvillette will make sure of that.

"With all the evidence presented we shall now look to the Oratrice Mec-. Hm...my apologies."

A silence rings through the Opera, one that leaves a chill down your spine. It was a recent development within Fontaine, one that still holds a full page in the Steambird papers that you can't escape: the dismissal of the Hydro Archon, Furina. Prior to this, Neuvillette would always have a second opinion, one that even lady Furina wouldn't object to. The Oratrice Mecanique D'analyse Cardinale was a solidifier for Neuvillette for when even he had doubts for a verdict, like now.

But that machine is no more. Now the final decision is his alone.

There is no Hydro Archon to look over, no machine to solidify his verdicts for trials. He is the power of Fontaine; the pinnacle of the nation of justice. He is the overseer of what is good or evil, what is just and unjust in his society.

Whatever choice he makes now will be the final decision. His word would be law. And you would have to follow it without question.

Whether right or wrong.

A glow begins to rise at the tips of his hair, something only you seem to notice. Your heart rate picks up. Neuvillette sighs deeply, an action that drops your father's heart into his stomach. Your blood runs cold.

"As Supreme ruler of Fontaine, I hereby declare the accused guilty of all charges."

Your father wails at your side, crumbling to his knees in sorrow. Your mother takes the glasses off her face in defeat, her hands coil around the bearings as she herself fights the unshed tears. Everything was in your favor; the verdict should have gone to them. Your hands shake at your sides in disbelief.

"However, I see a light of hope in your case. So you will not be banished to the Fortress of Meropide."

What? Your head darts to the judge. If not the Fortress, then-

"I will see to your parole myself, and personally ensure justice is upheld. It'll give you a second chance to reconsider your choices." Your father seems to cry harder in glee, standing on wobbly legs to embrace you. Your mother holds him there, thanking the judge for his generosity and sparing you a chance. The crowd follows suit in praise and applause, heckles turned cheers as they all claim him the true Sovereign of Justice. Their sudden mood change leaves a terrible stir in your gut.

Your parents hold you close in their arms in the belief that they won't have to go without seeing you for long. Your father cannot calm his tears, and your mother grips your shoulder firmly as he tells you to be on your best behavior in order to repay this blessing. However, you couldn't care less about any of them as they have fallen to the enemy. You center your gaze on the cold hard stare of the man on the pedestal.

Neuvillette doesn't look away from you, taking in the anger and disbelief that seethes from you in what you can only think is curiosity. You should curse him, launch your shoe across the stage and force a worse sentence that would keep you far away from him but you are too drawn to his stare to move.

In all that time you spent together you had never noticed but...

Were his irises always so narrow?

a/n i | sorry yall this should've been done weeks ago but neu's part really messed me up like it wasn't writers block or anything because the ideas were there i just didn't like any of them ( including this one but this was sadly the best one i could put into words )

a/n ii | to the anon and others who have shown interest in another installment of the 'archon' collection just know i haven’t forgotten about you i just wanted to do this first becuz i wanted to include a certain someone in that request! i swear the next part will be sooner than the two months it took for this to complete do not hate me anon!!

#furina x reader #neuvillette x reader #genshin angst #genshin x gender neutral reader #genshin impact x gender neutral reader #genshin impact x male reader #genshin x reader #genshin x male reader #genshin imagines #[ gem’s timestamps — ⌚️ ]#fyi part one was made pre fontaine and i had barely gotten through act one of the quest #finally got through with this #fontaine characters are really something to me #i had a moment with both characters because they're #just so dear to me along with their tragedies #also thought about adding arlecchino ( the knave ) to this #but she isn't from fontaine and also i need more info on the harth

135 notes · View notes