#light on whump heavy on fluff

[artemiseamoon]

Preview: A way to a mans heart

Angel Reyes & Tianna/Oc (oneshot)

Words: 947

Whumpril 2023 masterlist | Day 21: “it’s just a scratch.”

Warnings: none really, it's pretty light and on the fluffy end, mention of a bandaged wound.

An: pairing from an unreleased and unfinished oneshot. Don’t know when I’ll get to it, but wanted some light whump today and I miss this idiot. That look above gets me every time.

Quick backstory for them: friends not yet lovers, her family owns a fusion Caribbean food restaurant, she’s 34.

Preview below * read in full on A03

It’s been about 3 weeks since Tianna’s seen Angel, which is a long time without a visit from the Mayan. He was not just their number one customer, Angel often swung by to see Tianna, and sometimes have his dinner there before closing. The ride was a little out of the way for Santo Padre, still, he made it frequently.

Tianna didn’t know a lot about MC, never knew anyone in one until she met Angel, then his brother EZ. Besides, it was a group she never sought out, despite her thing for guys on bikes, there was just something about it - drew her in like a moth to a flame. But to get involved with one in a club, that would come with a whole lot of drama and stress she did not want to invite into her life.

This was one of the reasons she didn’t pursue anything with the tall, tattooed drink of water named Angel Reyes. On paper, he was exactly what she likes, but in reality, it would be more than she wanted to sign up for. Plus, his red flags were pretty clear, but not enough to make her stop flirting and playing around with the idea of maybe.

What made it a little easier to resist him at first was her family, they didn’t even want a patch wearer lingering around here too long, and made it clear, once they saw Angel flirting with her, that she needed to avoid types like that.

Then, the charming bastard he is, Angel won over the family, mom, brother, and the hardest of all, her father (who was ready to toss him out every time he came in). Still, her father didn’t make it obvious Angel won him over, he still gave him a hard time and plenty of shit each visit.

Read more on A03

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@artemiseamoon

A03: artemiseamoon

[pygmi-says-hi]

STOP DOING THIS IN INJURY FICS!!

Bleeding:

Blood is warm. if blood is cold, you’re really fucking feverish or the person is dead. it’s only sticky after it coagulates.

It smells! like iron, obv, but very metallic. heavy blood loss has a really potent smell, someone will notice.

Unless in a state of shock or fight-flight mode, a character will know they’re bleeding. stop with the ‘i didn’t even feel it’ yeah you did. drowsiness, confusion, pale complexion, nausea, clumsiness, and memory loss are symptoms to include.

blood flow ebbs. sometimes it’s really gushin’, other times it’s a trickle. could be the same wound at different points.

it’s slow. use this to your advantage! more sad writer times hehehe.

Stab wounds:

I have been mildly impaled with rebar on an occasion, so let me explain from experience. being stabbed is bizarre af. your body is soft. you can squish it, feel it jiggle when you move. whatever just stabbed you? not jiggly. it feels stiff and numb after the pain fades. often, stab wounds lead to nerve damage. hands, arms, feet, neck, all have more motor nerve clusters than the torso. fingers may go numb or useless if a tendon is nicked.

also, bleeding takes FOREVER to stop, as mentioned above.

if the wound has an exit wound, like a bullet clean through or a spear through the whole limb, DONT REMOVE THE OBJECT. character will die. leave it, bandage around it. could be a good opportunity for some touchy touchy :)

whump writers - good opportunity for caretaker angst and fluff w/ trying to manhandle whumpee into a good position to access both sites

Concussion:

despite the amnesia and confusion, people ain’t that articulate. even if they’re mumbling about how much they love (person) - if that’s ur trope - or a secret, it’s gonna make no sense. garbled nonsense, no full sentences, just a coupla words here and there.

if the concussion is mild, they’re gonna feel fine. until….bam! out like a light. kinda funny to witness, but also a good time for some caretaking fluff.

Fever:

you die at 110F. no 'oh no his fever is 120F!! ahhh!“ no his fever is 0F because he’s fucking dead. you lose consciousness around 103, sometimes less if it’s a child. brain damage occurs at over 104.

ACTUAL SYMPTOMS:

sluggishness

seizures (severe)

inability to speak clearly

feeling chilly/shivering

nausea

pain

delirium

symptoms increase as fever rises. slow build that secret sickness! feverish people can be irritable, maybe a bit of sass followed by some hurt/comfort. never hurt anybody.

ALSO about fevers - they absolutely can cause hallucinations. Sometimes these alter memory and future memory processing. they're scary shit guys.

fevers are a big deal! bad shit can happen! milk that till its dry (chill out) and get some good hurt/comfort whumpee shit.

keep writing u sadistic nerds xox love you

ALSO I FORGOT LEMME ADD ON:

YOU DIE AT 85F

sorry I forgot. at that point for a sustained period of time you're too cold to survive.

pt 2

also please stop traumadumping in the notes/tags, that's not the point of this post. it's really upsetting to see on my feed, so i'm muting the notifs for this post. if you have a question about this post, dm me, but i don't want a constant influx of traumatic stories. xox

[pygmi-cygni]

STOP DOING THIS IN INJURY FICS!!

Bleeding:

Blood is warm. if blood is cold, you're really fucking feverish or the person is dead. it's only sticky after it coagulates.

It smells! like iron, obv, but very metallic. heavy blood loss has a really potent smell, someone will notice.

Unless in a state of shock or fight-flight mode, a character will know they're bleeding. stop with the 'i didn't even feel it' yeah you did. drowsiness, confusion, pale complexion, nausea, clumsiness, and memory loss are symptoms to include.

blood flow ebbs. sometimes it's really gushin', other times it's a trickle. could be the same wound at different points.

it's slow. use this to your advantage! more sad writer times hehehe.

Stab wounds:

I have been mildly impaled with rebar on an occasion, so let me explain from experience. being stabbed is bizarre af. your body is soft. you can squish it, feel it jiggle when you move. whatever just stabbed you? not jiggly. it feels stiff and numb after the pain fades. often, stab wounds lead to nerve damage. hands, arms, feet, neck, all have more motor nerve clusters than the torso. fingers may go numb or useless if a tendon is nicked.

also, bleeding takes FOREVER to stop, as mentioned above.

if the wound has an exit wound, like a bullet clean through or a spear through the whole limb, DONT REMOVE THE OBJECT. character will die. leave it, bandage around it. could be a good opportunity for some touchy touchy :)

whump writers - good opportunity for caretaker angst and fluff w/ trying to manhandle whumpee into a good position to access both sites

Concussion:

despite the amnesia and confusion, people ain't that articulate. even if they're mumbling about how much they love (person) - if that's ur trope - or a secret, it's gonna make no sense. garbled nonsense, no full sentences, just a coupla words here and there.

if the concussion is mild, they're gonna feel fine. until....bam! out like a light. kinda funny to witness, but also a good time for some caretaking fluff.

Fever:

you die at 106F (40.5C). no 'oh no his fever is 107F!! ahhh!" no his fever is 0F because he's fucking dead. you lose consciousness around 103, sometimes less if it's a child. brain damage occurs at over 104.

ACTUAL SYMPTOMS:

sluggishness

inability to speak clearly

feeling chilly/shivering

nausea

pain

delirium

symptoms increase as fever rises. slow build that secret sickness! feverish people can be irritable, maybe a bit of sass followed by some hurt/comfort. never hurt anybody.

fevers are a big deal! bad shit can happen! milk that till its dry (chill out) and get some good hurt/comfort whumpee shit.

keep writing u sadistic nerds xox love you

also - this post was not an invitation to share a bunch of enormously traumatic stories. stop messaging me things like 'related to ur last post' and then it's a really upsetting recount of an assault you experienced. this is a writing blog, not a medical newsletter. I'm muting the notifs because I don't like seeing it pop up in my feed - if you have a genuine writing question, please dm me, i'd love to hear it. thank you.

[wangxianficfinder]

In the mood for...

Nov 1st

~*~

1. Hey so ITMF fics that A) have various sect leaders realize that the wens at the burial mounds are women, elderly and a child (not a threat to anyone) and DO Something about it! and B) any fics with heavy angst but happy ending. Last is C) any fics where wwx is abused/mistreated by lans or at cloud recesses

I know it’s a lot to ask and thank everyone who at least takes a look at my requests! @lonelyreverance

1A)

Blooming in white by luckymoonly (T, 38k, wangxian, JYL/JZX, MM/WQ, NMJ/LXC, NHS/JC, Canon Divergence, Mpreg, Getting Together, Fluff and Angst, Happy Ending, hidden pregnancy, Mutual Pining, Drama, Misunderstandings, Everyone Lives AU, Miscommunication, WWX and NHS are BFF, matchmaker NHS, Fix-It)

every breath that comes before by tardigradeschool (T, 10k, WangXian, Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Poison, Golden Core Reveal, Sharing a Bed, Hair Brushing, Angst with a Happy Ending, PTSD, WWX’s terrible self-esteem)

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

while covered in mud by merthurlin (T, 12k, NHS & WWX, NHS & NMJ, NHS & Wen remnants, mentioned wangxian, canon divergence, fix-it, NHS goes farming and Hates It)

We can fix that by Spindoctor (E, 85k, WangXianJue, Threesome - M/M/M, NMJ Lives, Arranged Marriage, Oral Sex, Anal Sex, Cock Warming, Caretaking, Light BDSM, Thigh jobs, Everyone Loves WWX, Canon Divergence, Fix-It, Frottage, Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Starvation, Canon-Typical Violence, Starvation recovery, PTSD, PTSD RECOVERY, Suicidal Ideation, Scars, Discussion of Surgery, mild body horror, discussion of starvation, body talk, Nightmares, screaming ghosts, WWXs canonical cnc kink, cnc fantasies, Light Bondage, tender fucking, instead of talking about feelings, Slow Burn, JYL Lives, BAMF JYL, Erectile Dysfunction, Weight Gain, Chapter Specific Tags in Beginning Notes)

1B)

Rebirth of a Wretched Mayfly by marikazz (M, 15k, WangXian, Time Loop, Time Travel, Groundhog Day, Suicidal Thoughts, Violence, Not Really Character Death, Panic Attacks, Self-Harm, Mental Health Issues, Trust Issues, Hurt WWX, Miscommunication, Heavy Angst, It Gets Worse Before It Gets Better, Whump, Feelings Realization, WWX is Not Okay, Mental Breakdown, Canon-Typical Violence, Existential Angst, Dissociation, Suicide, Angst with a Happy Ending, Misunderstandings, POV WWX)

Sunder by naqaashi (E, 32k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Soulmates, Golden Core Reveal, Golden Core Transfer Fix-It, WWX Has a New Golden Core, Heavy Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Denial of Feelings, Mutual Pining, Emotional Sex, Porn with Feelings, PWP, Light BDSM, Fix-It, POV LWJ, YLLZ WWX, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, It Gets Worse Before It Gets Better, Top/Bottom Versatile | Switch WangXian, Light Dom/sub, Explicit Sexual Content, Miscommunication, Misunderstandings, Grief/Mourning, Five Stages of Grief, Suicidal Thoughts)

❤️ The Third Young Master of the Qishan Wen by KouriArashi (T, 139k, wangxian, xiyao, chengqing, romance, angst w/ happy ending, hurt/comfort, politics, revenge, families of choice, pining) This fic is already very canon-divergent (it's an AU where wwx is adopted by the Dafan Wen)

A Life Without Regrets by naqaashi (M, 146k, WangXian, JFM & WWX, JC & WWX, WRH & WWX, LXC & LWJ, LQR & LWJ, LWJ & NHS, Canon Divergence, Time Travel Fix-It, Angst and Humor, Angst with a Happy Ending, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Crack Treated Seriously, musical cultivation, Slow Burn, Pining, Rogue Cultivator WWX, Murder Husbands, PTSD, BAMF WWX, Demonic Cultivation, POV WWX, Cultivation Sect Politics, Worldbuilding, No Yīn Iron, Genius WWX, Inventor WWX, Artist WWX, Musician WWX, Night Hunts, Fate & Destiny, Bad Parent JFM & YZY, Golden Core, Cultivation Theory, Sentient Burial Mounds, Father-Son Relationship, Dysfunctional Family, Grief/Mourning, Parent-Child Relationship, Angry WWX, Pining WWX, WWX is Not Okay, No Golden Core Transfer, BAMF LWJ, Pining LWJ, POV LWJ, Angry LWJ, One-Braincell Wangxian, Love Confessions, Idiots in Love, WIP)

❤️ Tragedy is Not the End by Hobbsy3 (T, 358k, wangxian, Time Travel, Torture, Hurt/Comfort, Golden Core Reveal, Canon Divergence from Qiongqi Pass, Angst with a Happy Ending, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Yunmeng sibling bonding, good dad wwx, good dad lwj, JZX Lives, JYL Lives, Junior Quartet Dynamics)

Birthday Party by waffles_4_breakfast (E, 102k, WangXian, Graphic Depictions of Violence, Fix-It, Canon Divergence, Angst, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Misunderstandings, Sharing a Bed, Angst with a Happy Ending, Happy Ending, Getting Together, Mutual Pining, Canon-Typical Violence, Pining, Slow Burn, Poison, Torture, Requited Unrequited Love, First Time, Anal Sex, Anal Fingering, Rough Sex, Oral Sex, Come as Lube, Bondage, Dom/sub Undertones, Spit As Lube, Rimming, Consensual Non-Consent, Safe Sane and Consensual, Additional Warnings In Author’s Note)

The Edge of Night by Hobbsy3 (M, 277k, WangXian, XuanLi, Modern AU, Zombie Apocalypse, Yúnmèng Siblings Dynamics, Accidental Baby Acquisition During a Zombie Apocalypse, Junior Quartet, (except they’re all babies), Angst with a Happy Ending, Minor Character Death, Hurt/Comfort, Blood and Gore, Ensemble Cast, Worst Zombie Fighting Team Ever, Found Family)

🔒 when the sun goes out by travelingneuritis (E, 176k, WangXian, Modern Cultivation, tech cultivation, Necromancy, Angst with a Happy Ending, insecurity around adoption, Dad!WWX, dad!lwj, Grief/Mourning, Mistaken Identity, Mood Whiplash, Body Swap, sex tears!, Falling In Love, Consensual Somnophilia, apocalypse (localized), Smut, unrealistic sexual stamina, Flashbacks, Time Skips, Illustrations)

💖 Shattered Dreamsby pupeez4eva (Not Rated, 8k, WangXian, Time Travel, Angst, lots and lots of angst, Character death, but it’s WWX so he is coming back, WWX time travels back to the Nightless City And doesn’t let JYL take the blow for him, Post-Canon, Angst with a Happy Ending, And then just lots of fluff and WangXian and Yunmeng sib feels to make up for all the angst)

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)

to the act of making noise by words-writ-in-starlight (WordsWritInStarlight) (G, 19k, LSZ & LWJ, LSZ & WWX, WangXian, Grief/Mourning, Father-Son Relationship, inquiry, LSZ is the best of boys and I will not hear debate, Music, Angst, Fluff and Angst, Found Family, [Podfic] to the act of making noise by Ceewelsh, flamingwell, kisahawklin, Rionaa)

1C)

Concord by Deastar (T, 41k, WangXian, Arranged Marriage, Gusu Lan Sect Rules, Depression, Canon Divergence, Angst with a Happy Ending) Wei Ying is mistreated/unfairly treated by the Lans in Concord, Mourning Robes and Preparing the Soil

Mourning Robes by Starlight1395 (T, 17k, wangxian, No Sunshot Campaign, Arranged Marriage AU, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Happy Ending, Depression, dissociating, Mild Blood, Fluff, juniors idolizing WWX like he deserves, slowburn between WWX and Cloud Recesses, Hinted smut, Jingyi has a CRUSH, Supportive JC)

Preparing the Soil by Rynne (T, 26k, WangXian, LQR & LWJ, Post-Canon, Established Relationship, Family Issues, Family Conflict, Uncle-Nephew Relationship, Chinese Holidays, Chinese New Year, Birthdays, Good Kid LSZ, Meta Arguments, POV LWJ, Protective LWJ, Married WangXian, LWJ’s Birthday, LSZ’s Birthday, Soft WangXian, LWJ Has to Talk a Lot, Gusu Lan Sect Rules, Gusu Lan Sect, Letting Go of Resentment, The WWX Rule, Good Sibling LXC, Improving Uncle LQR, Grappling with the Lans’ Part in the Siege, learning to be better, Music, LWJ is a Composer, LWJ Is Good at Communicating Actually, Not JC Friendly)

they keep the phoenix in a bamboo cage by Kieron_ODuibhir (T, 41k, WangXian, Amnesia, YLLZ WWX, Angst, Humor, Dramatic Irony, Character Study, BAMF WWX, WWX in WWX's Body, no dubcon beyond canon-typical misunderstanding kisses, and references to wangxian's usual under-negotiated cnc, but essentially, fake Dark LWJ) Wei Ying thinks he's being held prisoner by the Lans

Take Him Back, Hide Him Away by Anonymous (E, 5k, WangXian, Forced Marriage, Forced Orgasm, Wedding Night, Somnophilia, Dark LWJ, a bit of blood but not much, Kidnapping, Breeding Kink, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Rape/Non-con Elements) Wei Ying is truly abused by Lan Zhan in Take Him Back...Please mind the tags on the last one.

~*~

2. hiii do u know of any angsty yanli fics? they don't gotta be centered on any one point in her life but I feel like there's a lot of angst potential when it comes to her realtionship with madam Yu (like in the lotus seed story!!)

The Rage of Daughters by givemeunicorns (T, 51k, XuanLi, WangXian, ChengQing, MianLi, Grief/Mourning, Family Issues, Canon Divergence, Canonical Character Death, Character Study, Yanli lives but she has to work through some stuff okay?, Forgiveness, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Major Character Undeath)

Aftermath by KouriArashi (T, 57k, JYL/JZX, wangxian, LXC/JGY, JZX & JGY, JYL & WXX, Canon Divergence, Fix-It, Everybody Lives, Romance, Developing Relationship, Family, Sibling Bonding, Light Angst, Politics, Attempted Sexual Assault, some murder on occasion, People talking about their feelings, processing their trauma, The good shit)

~*~

3. Itmf fics where they are thespians (aka they do plays/musicals)

There are a number I’ve read for #3, theater-related works, but I will tout the very entertaining Scrippio’s works (there are several), including

Players gonna play by Scrippio (T, 68k, WangXian, JC/WQ, JYL/JZX, Modern, College/University au, Theater AU, Director WWX, Faculty advisor LWJ, grad student JC, Baker JYL, grad student WQ, Fluff, First Meeting, Getting Together, Mutual Pining, Slow Burn, Depression)

🧡 Fakespeare in the Park by Scrippio (T, 72k, WangXian, ChengQing, XuanLi, Modern AU, Modern: No Powers, Theatre, Fluff, Domestic Fluff, Accidental Baby Acquisition, Plus some very on purpose baby acquisition, The occasional existential crisis, all the relationships are established, Light Angst, one emergency surgery, but it’s fine)

and the not theater but Ren Faire offering (which is a second home to theater kids everywhere) 🧡 Faire thee well by Scrippio (T, 77k, WangXian , ChengQing, XuanLi, 3Zun, Modern AU, Renaissance Faire, Mutual Pining, Fluff, Domestic Fluff, Slow Burn)

to aim at poetry with pistols series by azurewaxwing (E, 34k, WangXian, LJY/LSZ, Modern, College/University, Angst with a Happy Ending, Canonical Character Death, Fluff, Actors, Theatre, Multimedia, Pining, Cancer, LWJ can have a little turtle (as a treat), Minor Character Death, Smut, Anal Sex, The duality of LWJ: always horny and always poetry)

Talisman by Witch_Nova221 (M, 192k, WangXian, Modern AU, Eventual Romance, Theatre, Rock Band, Childhood Friends, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Spousal Abuse, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Fluff, Stalking, Minor Character Death, Friends to Lovers, Mutual Pining)

Fanciful Nature by QuietReader25 (E, 168k, WangXian, peking opera, Theatre, 1930s, Flowers, Smut, Slow Burn, Anal Sex, Anal Fingering, Angst with a Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, Sad WWX, Pining, Drunk LWJ, Mutual Pining, Drunken Shenanigans, Love Confessions, Singing, Hurt WWX, Hurt LWJ, Mystery, Past Character Death, Attempted Sexual Assault, Violence, Parties, Bunnies, First Kiss, First Time, Jealous LWJ, Possessive Sex, Emotional Sex, Blow Jobs, Rimming, Attempted Rape/Non-Con, Character Death, Bath Sex, Riding, Slight Choking)

~*~

4. Hello! Itmf WWX returning to Lotus Pier and taking his position as first disciple and/or teaching students again. Thank you! @gloriousclotpole

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)

🔒 Tether by WithBroomBefore (T, 40k, WangXian, SangLi, WWX’s passive suicidality, Canon Divergence, Somebody Lives/Not Everyone Dies, WWX Lives, JYL Lives, Golden Core Reveal, Minor Character Death, Canon-Typical Violence, POV JYL, Grief/Mourning, Sunshot Campaign, Healing, Hurt/Comfort, Family Feels, LWJ makes friends, Fix-It, Happy Ending)

family by antebunny (G, 8k, JC & WWX, WangXIan, JYL/JZX, Fix-It, Angst, Fluff, Found Family, actual family, Everybody Lives, JC is a good bro, Epic Tsundere JC, wwx's horde of gremlin children, Canon Divergence) Wei Ying is no longer officially head disciple after it's revealed he lost his core in family but he trains and recruits disciples for Jiang Cheng.

~*~

5. Hey all I was kinda in the mood for fics that sorta give the same feel as Sonny’s Edge (from Netflix) involving wwx obviously. I would appreciate anything you can come up with but would prefer a long fic … and maybe a happy ending after an angsty bit! @lonelyreverance

~*~

6. ITMF please!

I recently read Dreams of Cultivation by mortuus_lingua and it was amazing! Are there any more gamer or game-themed fics with wangxian? 🥺

simping for hanguang-jun by defractum (nyargles) (T, 6k, WangXian, Modern AU, YouTubers WangXian, Fluff, Among us game, Streamer AU)

Wei Ying’s Smile is Beautiful by Guineapigs1 (T, 66k, WIP, WangXian, Modern AU, College/University, Video Game World, Gaming, Identity Porn, Oblivious WWX, Mutual Pining, Online Romance, Love O2O AU)

🔒Duo With You by Nyatci (T, 48k, WIP, WangXian, JFM/YZY, XuanLi, College/University, Gamers WàngXiàn, Casual Gaming, enemies to lovers (sorta), Secret Identity vibes, they play league of legends, Kinda Crack but treated very seriously, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Comedy, But also, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Abusive Jiang Family, Eventual Happy Ending)

🔒【为梦想而战】for this dream, i'll fight by paradisetrain (M, 27k, WangXian, Modern AU, Gamer AU, League of Legends, Gaming Jargon, Social Media, Internet Hate, cancel culture, Hacking, Cheating, Internet Scandal, Bad Parenting, Parent Death, Family Issues, Family Feels, Healing, Falling In Love)

Our Red String of Fate is a Wireless Connection by TheLegendOfChel (M, 24k, wangxian, college/university au, esports, internet famous, secret identity, WIP)

🔒Make It Right by Prince_kun (M, 28k, WangXian, NieLan, SongLan, ChengQing, Transmigrator WWX, Historical, Video Game World, Transmigration, Canon - Modao Zushi & The Untamed Combination, Implied/Referenced Medical Condition, Hurt/Comfort, Fake/Pretend Relationship, War AU, warprizewwx, Crack Treated Seriously, Pretty Woman Fusion, Humor, Canon-Typical Violence, Modern man wwx, Protective LWJ, WangXian Get a Happy Ending, Top LWJ/Bottom WWX, WWX in WWX's Body, Oblivious WWX, Action/Adventure, BAMF LQY, General LWJ, LWJ is LSZ’s Parent, Love Doctor XXC, Love Doctor SL, Historical Inaccuracy, Parent LWJ)

You're my Destiny. by headBONDmeLWJ (T, 44k, WangXian, Modern AU, POV WWX, Pining WWX, Oblivious WWX, Gamer WWX, Gamer LWJ, LWJ Has Feelings, Idiots in Love, Awkward Crush, Mutual Pining, Slow Burn, WWX-centric, Internally Screaming LWJ, Jealous LWJ, Pining LWJ, LWJ is Whipped, POV LWJ, Possessive LWJ, Established WangXian)

~*~

7. Hello! Are there any fanfics that Wei wuxian and lan wangji were married but just stayed indifferent to each other until many years later? @lanwuxian0725

~*~

8. Hello,

I was wondering for itmf if there is a fic with nice intimacy written for Wen Ning?

But please not with WY

Thank you!

Honey Lavender by TumblingTroublesomeTumbleweeds (E, 15k, ChengNing, Slow Burn, Pining, Awkward First Times, Canon Divergence, Jealousy, Top JC, Bottom WN, Consensual Underage Sex, Friends to Lovers to Enemies to Lovers or something like that, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Cinnamon Roll WN, Eventual Necrophilia)

~*~

9. hello! i'm not sure if any of them exist but just in case... for the next itmf if anyone knows any i would love to read canon/post-canon fics where sizhui views wwx as his father but not lwj

~*~

10. ITMF a fic where wwx finds out that lwj actually has game (as in, he regularly hooks up with different people). something similar to "our friendship (up against the ropes)". any fic in general where lwj completely subverts wwx's stuffy impression of him

the earthquake in the room by phnelt (E, 39k, WangXian, College/University, Modern: No Powers, Canada, Getting Together, Mentions of lwj/others, background NieLan, background QingMian, inter-faculty romance, strangers to lovers to frenemies to lovers, mostly book characterisation, Background XuanLi)

it's always open by ScarlettStorm (E, 60k, WangXian, Modern AU, no magic, vague north american setting, First Time, Getting Together, Pining while fucking, Some angst, Happy Ending, lwj FUCKS, Sexual exploration, demi wwx, Kissing, Hand Jobs, Blow Jobs, confused but enthusiastic consent, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, truly absurd amounts of naked pillow talk, switch rights)

On The Way by 8Zaire8 (E, 13k, WangXian, Smut, so much porn, PWP, Fluff, Porn with Feelings, Getting Together, Public Sex, Library Sex, restaurant sex, Riding, Nipple Play, Nipple Clamps, Anal Sex, Fuckboy LWJ, Transfer student WWX, High School, Facial, Top WWX/Bottom LWJ, Light Bondage, Mentions of past abuse from YZY, mentions of Lan Zhan and other characters, slight somnophilia, Power Bottom LWJ)

To See You (Again) by FrameofMind, Jo Lasalle (Jo_Lasalle) ( E, 84k, WangXian, Modern AU, London, No Magic AU, lwj FUCKS, But Like Bottomji Fucks, Friends to Lovers, Self-Discovery, Pining, Grindr, Light Bondage, mild D/s themes, Experienced LWJ, Less Experienced WWX, straight boy WWX)

~*~

11. Hi! I’m looking for modern aus that include A-Yuan being legally adopted by WWX. I just read let’s play pretend and live our lives by tassos and the dynamics there between WWX and A-Yuan were so lovely, I wanna read more fics like that. Thank you!!

The Simplest Way Forward by harriet_vane (E, 70k, WangXian, Modern AU, Accidental Baby Acquisition,Kid Fic, explicit in much much later chapters, green card marriage (but not really), pining for your own husband, endless pining, Slow Burn, Happy Ending, Nothing else bad or traumatic happens to the baby, [Podfic of] The Simplest Way Forward by knight_tracer, a Spanish version of the fic, Turkish translation, Translation into Русский availabl) this has A-Yuan being adopted jointly by Wangxian

estuaries by vesna (mrsronweasley) (E, 34k, wangixan, modern, breakup/makeup, pining while fucking, single dad WWX, angst w/ happy ending)

🧡 i really want to know (who are you) by Stratisphyre (M, 19k, WangXian, Modern with Magic, Golden Core Reveal, Single Dad WWX, Reasonable Authority Figure LQR, Allusions to violence and murder, Hospitalization)

Magic Mishap by Regency_Bunny (T, 8k, wangxian, Modern, imbo LXC, Single Parent WWX, Kid Fic, Magic Tricks, Fluff and Humor, Child LSZ, Meet-Cute, Bunnies, Misunderstandings, Love at First Sight)

Picture Perfect by manaika (M, 22k, WangXian, Modern AU, Past Relationship(s), Widower WWX, Grief/Mourning, Getting Together, Families of Choice, Family Feels, Stepfather WWX, LSZ is a Wèi, Single Parent WWX, Aromantic Relationship, Platonic Life Partners, it’s all in the past and only mentioned/discussed when relevant, Sex-Favorable Asexual WWX, RomanceHurt/Comfort, Past Character Death, Food Intake Related Medical Issue (not what you think) )

The Late Great Custody Debate by stiltonbasket (G, 9k, wangxian, JYL/JZX, LXC/NMJ, JC & WWX & JYL, modern, Domestic Fluff, baby a-yuan, Single Parent WWX, LWJ is a confused rabbit owner, nielan are married, nhs is: xoxo gossip girl, Custody Arrangements, engagement, Confused WWX, WWX voice: if i’m the one with the kid why are you suing ME for child support?, LWJ kills his own love life in the worst way, Happy Ending)

The stuffed bunny, the beautiful nephew, and other gifts from Lan Qiren by deliciousblizzardshark (G, 8k, WangXian, LQR & WWX, Modern AU, Single Parent WWX, Good Uncle LQR, Accidental Uncle Acquisition, Found Family, Fluff)

And They Were Quarantined series by thunderwear (E, 49k, WangXian, 3zun, quarantine fic, Friends to Lovers, Enemies to Lovers, LXC is a total slut for his roommates and he isn't even trying to hide it, Eventual Smut, Mutual Pining, Sexual Tension, Getting Together, Single Dad WWX, Long-Distance Relationship, Fluff, almost no angst, Happy Ending, First Time, Phone Sex, switching POV, Domestic Fluff, some smut, Rabbits, little a-yuan is the best, Anxiety Attacks, Touch-Starved LWJ gets his hug!, And Then Some ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡° ), a-yuan is best boy, A-Yuan is an agent of chaos and everyone thinks its cute, And they're right …but not for long? NHS should never be trusted alone with kids)

i guess i’ll have to change my plan by darjeelinh (E, 35k, WangXian, Modern, Meet-Cute, Falling In Love, Love at First Sight, First Kiss, First Time, Inspired by Before Sunrise (1995) and Before Sunset (2004), soft rom-com vibes, One Night Stands, but not really, Light Angst with a Happy Ending, they both have demi vibes in this fight me about it, Loss of Virginity, Misunderstandings, Separations, Reunions, wangxian canon Elopement™️ shenanigans, now with art) that part kinda starts in ch2 but it's there

~*~

12. Can you recommend any chat fics plz plz plz

Grandmaster of Meme-onic Cultivation by Hades_the_Blingking (T, 75k, LWJ/WWX/MXY, Chatlogs, chatfic, Texting, Comedy, Canon Compliant, Crack, Memes, Humourm JGY is best bitch, i am afraid of when LXC finally snaps, XY is a highly cursed person, NHS is still mvp tbh, Polyamory, Not Everyone Dies, Just have fun everyone!!!, Additional: please do not eat or drink reading this enough people have choked x-x)

The Bunnies and The Roomba: A Love Story by Nikki373 (T, 6k, wangxian, modern, Fluff, Humor, Idiots in Love, Getting Together, Happy Ending, Siblings, Siblings Try and Are Trying, College/University, 1 if by phone; 2 if by text; 3 if by mouth, Kisses, Romance, Falling In Love, LXC is the eternal captain of the good ship Wangxian) These next three feature a lot of chats within the story but aren't true chatfics

🔒 you’ve ruined my life (by not being mine) by cicer (E, 132k, WangXian, Modern AU, Developing Relationship, Idiots in Love, Awkward Flirting, teenage romance, Shameless WWX, slowburn, Demisexuality, references to lqr’s a+ parenting, references to jfm’s a+ parenting, but we’re gonna get a happy ending ANYWAY, references to yzy’s a+ parenting, Background NMJ/LXC, hints of nmj/lxc/jgy, bottom LWJ in chapter 15) These next three feature a lot of chats within the story but aren't true chatfics

Some of You by tangerinechar (M, 60k, WangXian, Modern AU, Social Media, Actor AU, Idiots in Love, Mutual Pining, Fluff, Love Confessions, Matchmaking, Light Angst) These next three feature a lot of chats within the story but aren't true chatfics

🔒Bodega Love by cicer (T, 11k, WangXian, Modern AU, bisexual disaster wwx, text conversations, reckless use of emojis, unrepentent goofiness, [Podfic of] Bodega Love by exmanhater, Fleur Rochard (fleurrochard), GoLBCollabs (GodOfLaundryBaskets), Gondolinpod (Gondolin), growlery, nicolasechs, Opalsong, RevolutionaryJo, Rhea314 (Rhea), [Podfic] Bodega Love by GinevraReads (GinevraFangirl), jennisaisquoi, kealdrakemna_collabs (kealdrakemna), KeriArentikaiMultipods (KeriArentikai), kisahawklin, mulberry_graceful, PandaReads (DrPanda99), shash_reads (sunkitten_shash)) is an amazing chat fic (sorry I don’t remember the number) also a good podfic by multiple artists

🔒Tax B(racket) by adrian_kres (T, 744, WangXian, Crack, Interactive, nielan, when your friends make a groupchat to talk about you and then feel bad about it, Rated T for language)

Carefully Orchestrated Plans (no strings attached) by Maledictius (T, 101k, WangXian, Modern AU, Chatting & Messaging, Orchestra, Fluff and Humor, Hijinks & Shenanigans, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Gossip)

MDZS Chat Fic by Maaarken (M, 51k, JC/LXC/NMJ, LWJ/WWX/WN, JYL/JZX, WQ/MM, WLJ/WC, JGY/NHS, JC & NHS, Social Media, Chatting & Messaging, Modern, Miscommunication, Polyamor, Established Relationship, Light mentions of incest, because WWX is a dumb gremlin, Gremlin WWX, Matchmaking, Bad Matchmaking, Bad Flirting, Everyone swears a lot, Except the Lans, Light chengxian, Good WC, Bad SS, Some Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Dage is a bit of an ass, but he becomes better, JC is less angsty than canon, Is it slice of life if it's only the drama slices?, Oblivious WWX, Oblivious LWJ, Oblivious lots of people tbh, Slow Burn, mostly for the poly couples, Crack Treated Seriously, LXC is a troll, they talk about dicks a lot, LXC's mostly, NHS is a Good Bro, the best actually, Angst, It Gets Worse Before It Gets Better)

~*~

13. Hello! For itmf any mafia boss lan wangji? Thankyou!

🔒🧡 Rule Number One: Never get attached. by KizuKatana (E, 130k, WangXian, Modern AU, A/B/O, Criminal underworld AU, Fluff and angst, Crime boss LWJ, Rouge criminal genius WWX, Explicit Sex)

Baby, You Ain’t Seen Nothing Yet by TriviasFolly (E, 177k, WangXian, Modern AU, A/B/O Dynamics, Alpha LWJ, Omega WWX, Omega LSZ, Mafia, Crime, Sects are Clans, Feral WWX, Feral Omegas, Nurse WWX, Dark LWJ, Dark WWX, Possessive LWJ, feminine WWX, wwx’s cannon desire to be a sugar baby/trophy wife, Breeding Kink, Mpreg)

The Damage You Do by stiricide (E, 188k, WIP, WangXian, Modern AU, Dom/Sub, Dark LWJ, Mobster LWJ, Possessive LWJ, Sex Worker WWX, Sugar Baby WWX, WWX adopts LSZ, Dubious Consent, each chapter has sex tag notes on it, BDSM, Sounding, Panic Attacks, Angst with a Happy Ending)

~*~

14. A) I'm in the mood for a fic that has Lan Wangji being worried about his brother after the burning of Cloud Recesses, and one that includes a (preferably teary and emotional) reunion between the two. Bonus if it shows that Lan Wangji is actually a traumatized teenager who really really needs a hug from his big bro

B) I'm in the mood for a fic that focuses on the events in the Xuanwu cave. Preferably one that continues past those events in an AU fashion. Perhaps a feelings realization and a get-together? I remember I saw something once (can't find it again tho) that had Jiang Cheng not bringing anyone to rescue the pair, so they broke out on their own (or someone else saved them?) Anyway, a Xuanwu AU would be nice:)) @lmaodilligaf

14B)

Just go forward like you mean it by tawaen (M, 101k, WangXian, WWX & WN &WQ, WWX & JYL, NHS & WWX, Canon Divergence, WWx does not attend the Wen indoctrination, WWX saves Lotus Pier, Inventor WWX, No Golden Core Transfer, Sect Leader JYL, JC Has No Golden Core, Bad Parents JFM & YZY, Not JC Friendly, but he gets a happier ending than canon so don’t look here for bashing)

Hope Dangling by a String by KouriArashi (M, 70k, wangxian, canon divergence, fix-it, everyone lives, angst w happy ending, hurt/comfort, psychic bond, telepathy, communication, emotional/psychological abuse, jiang family feels, lan family feels, canon-typical violence, canon-typical politics, improper use of sacred forehead ribbons, gratuitous hair washing)

🔒 Not my lips you kissed (but my soul) by luckymoonly (M, 20k, WangXian, NMJ/LXC, Canon Divergence, Fix-It, Sunshot Campaign, Fall of Lotus Pier, Happy Ending, Starts from chapter 55, Romance, fast burn, WWX and NHS are BFF, Horny Teenagers, Loss of Virginity, Smut, Angst, getting together early, no loss of golden core, pregnant WWX, Mpreg, soup drama, Matchmaker WN, Smugji strikes again, Everyone Is Gay)

🔒 Bloom where you are planted by luckymoonly (M, 44k wangxian, MM/WQ, Canon Divergence, Fix It, courting, Mpreg, Sunshot Campaign, Fluff, Happy Ending, getting together early, Romance, WWX giving birth in the middle of the war? Most likely than you think!, Yúnmèng Siblings Feels, Smut, Drama, Blood and Violence, Minor Character Death, There Is Only One Bed, No Fall of Lotus Pier, Crossdressing, Shotgun Wedding, Mention of miscarriage (not WWX), wangxian Have a Breeding Kink, Giving Birth, Soft granduncle LQR)

Impermanence, Transience, Permanence by Best Bepsy (BepsyGray) (E, 39k, wangxian, canon divergence, unplanned pregnancy, mpreg, gore, sunshot campaign, assumed miscarriage, medical procedures, childbirth, golden core reveal)

~*~

15. Hi I know it's embarrassing question but i have a preference for virgin wei ying trope could you plz 🙈🙏tell me an long recs that fit this trope hopefull 90000 words or more and completed.

🧡 Stunted, Starving Juvenility by TomatenMark (E, 887k, WangXian, WIP, Fix-it of sorts, Talisman master WWX, Not JFM Friendly, Study Arc, Getting together, Fluff and Angst, Engagement) I’m not quite sure what you mean by the « virgin Wei Ying » trope, but both he and LWJ are virgins at the beginning of this one, it’s very good, and part/Act 1& 2 I think are complete. If you’re referring to a « virgin Marry » Wei Ying who can do no wrong ever…. Idk any that are actually long enough or good or not horribly OOC.

My Leaves Reach Ever for the Sun by nonplussed (T, 26k, WangXian, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Fix-It, Crossdressing, Idiots in Love, Sharing a Bed, Canon Divergence, Happy Ending, Mutual Pining, Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies) Another one that might fit would be My Leaves Reach Ever for the Sun but there’s no sex in this one (it’s just really good and fun)

Until The End by abCEE (M, 365k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, war changes people, resulting to OOC, no pinning, Established Relationship, Mpreg, Good Uncle LQR, a little grey LWJ, a bit of JC bashing from LWJ, BAMF JYL, 16 years of yearning, mainly CQL verse but has scenes from the novel as well, LSZ is WangXian’s Child, WWX Has a New Golden Core, Canon Rewrite, Happy Ending, Fix-It of Sorts) If you’re talking about the cannon fact that they’re both virgin romantics there’s too many to recommend, If I’m remembering correctly this has a bit of the innocent WWX in body and later mind? Kinda? so what are you looking for exactly?

~*~

16. this request is for itmf. it’s a bit random and specific but are there any fics where there is a bit more focus or a scene where they discuss wwx’s hairstyle switching? like from his ponytail to his half up hairstyle?

it doesn’t have to be the focus of the fic ofc but please help me find if there’s any fics where they actually address that change

thank you! 🫶

~*~

17. Hi! The other day I read a fanfic that basically was that mxy was pregnant before wwx was pulled in, so I was hoping anyone could give me recs with that premise

~*~

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!***

[regulusrules]

Guide for: What Tags to Add to Your Fic

Do you guys have the same problem of how when you're about to post a fic and reach to the tags section you're like .. what r werds 🫠

It's also why some works don't get any visibility even though we're blessed by god almighty for no algorithm in ao3

And I kid you not, I found some of the best goddamn fics out there by sheer coincidence because they weren't tagged right and they remain overlooked because of this fact

So here's a small classified guide for you!

This post is solely based on observation, the ao3 tag search, and my own personal system for tagging! I am not, by any means or sorts, an ao3 fandom moderator, but someone who's read nearly 30 thousand of the fics out there and struggles to read the rest

General tags for any fic

For fic forms: Art - Fanart - Digital Art - Drabble - Short - Complete - One shot - 5+1 Things - Poetry - Podfic - Songfic - Text Fic - Prompt Fic - Case Fic - Ficlet - RPF

For plot: Fix-it - Pre-Canon - Canon Era - Post-Canon - Canon Compliant - Not Canon Compliant - Everybody Lives/Nobody dies - Everybody dies/Nobody lives - Alternate Universe: Modern / Canon Divergence / Historical / College / Fantasy / Soulmates / Royalty / Powers / No Powers / Roommates - Kid Fic - Sickfic - Future Fic - Reincarnation - Time Travel - Plot What Plot (PWP) - Epilogue What Epilogue (EWE) - Slow Build - Missing Scene - Flashbacks - Crossover - ANY triggering topic you are writing about (eg: death, rape, violence, suicide, etc)

For vibes: Hurt/Comfort - Comfort - Hurt No Comfort - Humour - Fluff - Domestic Fluff - Fluff and Angst - Angst - Light Angst - Heavy Angst - Angst with a Happy Ending - No Happy Ending - Happy Ending - Whump - Crack - Cute - Humour - Dark - Sweet

For relationships: Slow burn - Romance - First Kiss - No/Mild/Explicit Sexual Content - Specific kinks (eg: Praise Kink) - Smut - No Smut - Feels - Getting Together - First Time - Pre-Relationship - Developing Relationship - Established Relationship - Mutual Pining - Pining - Friends to Lovers - Enemies to Lovers - Friends With Benefits - Love Confessions - Unrequited Love - True Love - Forbidden Love - Falling in Love

For characters: POV (insert character name) - Pining (character) - Hurt (character) - Jealous (character) - Worried (character) - Protective (character) - Dark (character) - BAMF (character) - Possessive (character) - Caring (character) - Top/Bottom (character) - Good/Evil (character) - Oblivious (character) - Manipulative (character) - Soft (character) - (character) lives - (character) dies

For tropes: Christmas - Sharing a bed - Weddings - Jealousy - Misunderstandings - Secret Relationship - First Meetings - Scars - Aftercare - Arranged Marriage - Kidnapping - Blood - Blood and Injury - Injury - Magic - Panic Attacks - Amnesia - Bathing/Washing - Soul-Identifying Marks - Touch-Starved

[halfmoth-halfman]

Preserve Your Love In A Field Of Tulips

Pairing: Kento Nanami x GN!Reader Word Count: 3.9k Warnings: fluff, whump, bruises, blood, injury, shibuya aftermath, nanami survives shibuya A/N: we got the winner of the last fic poll!! it's my first fic in a while so i hope y'all enjoy it, and if you notice typos...no you didn't lmao

You grow up next to a field of wildflowers, in a house that smells of summer and honey.

It’s been in your family for generations, a cozy two-story away from the noise and chaos of the city. As a child, your mother told you stories of it being built by a grandfather of a grandfather trying to find a place for himself in the world. The story changed each time, every retelling more fantastical than the last. Sometimes she claimed he came to this field to escape a great evil that haunted his family home. Other times she claimed that he’d fallen in love with a spirit that lived among the wildflowers and built his home here in hopes of seeing her again.

Your father’s explanation was far more practical, and probably closer to the truth. A simple story of a man wanting to see the world and build a legacy of his own without the overbearing opinions of his family. 

Whatever the truth, the house is yours now. 

Your little paradise, a space lovingly carved out of the world and meant just for you.

You do your best to honor their memory, to care for this gift you’ve been given properly. You tend to your mother’s herb garden, care for the shubunkin and tamasaba in your great uncle’s pond, and leave little pieces of yourself throughout the house to make it your own. 

You don’t mind the routine, finding peace in the feel of the sun warming your skin and the soft glow of fireflies at night. You know this is a gift meant to be shared, something made to pass on to your children and their children after. There’s no rush, you tell yourself. You’re content in your solitude, satisfied with the few close friendships you’ve nurtured over the years. Of course, those friendships were from your time spent abroad with no one close enough to actually meet with in person.

Maybe the isolation can be a bit much, but it’s not like you can’t visit the city at any time. 

“You have your whole life to find love,” your mother once told you while you helped her wash dishes, a knowing smile on her kind face. She’d taken a moment to lean down to you, glancing at your father as she whispered conspiratorially into your ear, “And this place has a way of sending you exactly what you need when you least expect it.” She winked at you then, returning to the dishes while humming a soft tune.

She spoke about your home like that often, as if it were a living, thinking thing. You struggled to believe her even as a child, sharing in your father’s more “practical” line of thought.

You should’ve known that even in death your mother was always right. 

Seven summers after you inherit the house, a week of harsh rains and unnatural winds leaves your land a mess of mud and branches. You spend far too many days trying to salvage your flooded herb garden and saving your fish from their overflowing pond. Only when the land is somewhat cleared does the storm return, disappearing and reappearing in patterns that purposely inconvenience you. 

You’re fed up, sitting hopelessly on the rain-soaked steps of your porch as the storm rages around you when a stranger appears.

Umbrella in hand, wearing a tan suit and strange sunglasses, the man politely ushers you inside “for your own safety”. It’s the only thing he says to you, offering no explanations for why he’s here or how he found this place. Sealed inside your house, no light except for the lightning flashing through your windows, you rush to the living room, climbing atop your couch to peer through your curtains and search for the stranger in your yard. 

It’s not hard to spot the blonde of his hair even through the heavy downpour, but your attention is immediately drawn to the massive creature swatting at him from the clouds. It’s grotesque, a twisted form of sharpened teeth and bloated, purple arms. The man is seemingly unbothered, dodging its swings with ease. The creature roars, echoes of thunder rattling the walls of your house. The skin on its many arms burst open, bolts of lightning shooting from its veins. The light is blinding, its roar pressing painfully into your eardrums until you’re crouched on your living room floor with your eyes shut and hands squeezing against your ears.

You don’t realize it’s over until a warm hand is laid on your shoulder, and you find the man crouched in front of you. He’s soaked, dripping red-tinted rainwater onto your floor, but he looks at you with genuine concern. 

“Are you alright?” he asks softly. 

So many questions swirl around your head: Who are you? What was that thing? Did you kill it? How did you do that? How did you know to come here? 

“Did that thing hurt my fish?” Is what leaves your mouth. The man blinks, surprise briefly flashing across his face. 

“I don’t think so.” 

You sag forward without thinking, your head coming to rest on his shoulder with a relieved sigh. Already you can feel exhaustion creeping in, your eyes sliding closed as you mutter a soft thanks. 

The man clears his throat, shifting awkwardly beneath you.

“The garden will need some work, however.”

He’d introduced himself as Kento Nanami, politely offering to help clear out your garden before he left. You’d declined, exhausted and defeated, but thanked him nonetheless. He helped you to your feet, guiding you around the puddles on your floor as he brought you to the stairs. It took three times to assure him that you could make it to your room by yourself, and he still waited until you were at the top of the steps to take his leave.

It only takes you a day to convince yourself it was nothing more than a vivid dream brought on by stress and too little sleep. It’s easier to believe, far easier than the idea of a handsome stranger showing up in the middle of a storm to fight a massive sky demon in your front yard. If something so crazy had actually happened, surely there would be evidence of it. Yet, there are no stains on your living room floor, no destruction in your herb garden aside from some extra mud, no giant, bloated sky demon corpse lying around.

There’s nothing but your memories of an admittedly wild dream…

Nothing but your memories, and the handsome, blonde man dressed in a tan suit standing at your front door a week later. He ignores the stunned look on your face, holding up a blue gift bag decorated with cartoon goldfish and a talking turtle. You wordlessly take the bag, peering inside in equal parts curiosity and disbelief.

Lights shaped like white lotus flowers, polished rocks, and two yellow duck figurines. 

“A few pieces from your pond were damaged,” he explains. “Fish can get stressed if there are extreme changes to their environment.”

“You…” You blink up at him, trying to come to terms with the fact that the handsome man from your dream is, in fact, real and bringing you decorations to calm your fish. “It's Kento, right?”

“I apologize for the abrupt visit–”

“Where’d you put the body?” 

You’ve stunned him into silence once more, Kento staring at you with his mouth slightly open. He composes himself quickly, straightening with a small cough.

“The body?”

“The sky demon. That was real, right? I didn’t dream that? I don’t think I did ‘cause that would mean I dreamt you up, which…well, I might have – you seem like the type I’d dream of. But you’re standing in front of me right now, and I’m definitely not asleep. Unless I’m hallucinating…” 

You reach out without thinking, snatching your hand back the moment your fingertips meet the solid muscle of his torso. “Nope, you’re real and I’m...making a fool of myself.”

“It’s a lot to process,” he nods. You nod in return, eyes bouncing back between him and the bag in your hands. “I’m sure you need time–”

He takes a step back, and that’s all you need to snap back to reality.

“Yes, well no…” He pauses, waiting patiently as you take a deep breath to gather your words. 

“Thank you for the gift and the–” you gesture up to the clear, blue sky, “–demon…thing. If you’d like, you can come inside for a bit.”

Kento raises his brows, and you think you catch the brief twitch of his mouth. “That’s not necessary–”

“It’s more for me, really. I think I’m still trying to process…everything, and I could use the company.” 

You notice the way he glances down, a short look to the nervous smile on your lips to the shaking of your hands around the handles of the gift bag. If the rambling doesn’t give your nerves away, the rest certainly does, but Kento is polite enough not to mention it. 

“Alright,” he nods, lips pulled into a small smile. 

Over the afternoon, Kento eases you through a simple explanation of the curse – not demon – that had tried to make a home in your skies. The explanation leads into a wider conversation about curses as a whole and his role in dealing with them. He’s vague but patient, answering your questions in a calm manner that soothes your anxiety without going into detail. There’s more silence than there is conversation, but he doesn’t seem to mind. You’re sure he feels sorry for you, watching you try to navigate as your world gets flipped on its head.

Guilt sets in by late afternoon when you realize that his work is far more important than wasting time comforting you. You thank him for staying, letting him leave with more thanks than he’s probably comfortable with. He offers to come back in a few weeks if you need, but you assure him you’re fine. 

He gives you a smile, one you’re coming to understand means he sees right through your lies, before gesturing to the gift bag sitting on your coffee table. 

“I look forward to seeing what you do with the pond, then,” he says. “Since you’re sure you’re alright.”

He’s walking away before you can argue, and you swear you catch the hint of a smirk. 

Kento visits three weeks later, keeping his word as he heads straight to your pond.

You took a trip to the city and bought a few more decorations since his visit, working on getting the pond back to normal as a way to distract your mind. You think you’ve come to terms with the idea of curses, though the feeling of being watched has spiked your paranoia.

“Not bad,” he hums, crouching down to assess the duck figurines you have next to the small waterfall.

“The fish seem to appreciate it,” you shrug, watching your fish happily circle the pond. He gives a contemplative hum, running a finger along the water’s surface to watch one of the tamasaba follow along the ripples. A comfortable silence stretches over the pond, broken a few moments later by the ringing of Kento’s phone. 

He stands, taking a few steps away before answering. You take his place at the pond’s edge, content to watch the fish circle along the gentle waves and listen to Kento’s murmurs into his phone. He hangs up with a deep sigh, rejoining you at the pond. 

“More demon stuff to deal with?” you ask teasingly. 

“Next time I’ll bring something for the garden,” he says, watching the fish circle for a few seconds before looking to you.

“Next time?” 

He nods, and you smile wide, “Next time, then.” 

Kento visits two weeks later, a bag of star-shaped lights that he spends the afternoon stringing along your garden fence. He sticks around until after the sun sets – just to make sure the lights work, he claims – promising to fix the loose step on your porch before he leaves. 

Once your step is fixed, he insists on fixing the missing piece to your porch railing. 

After that, it’s the way your kitchen window squeaks when you slide it open. 

Then, it’s the loose knob on your front door.

Then the uneven chair at your dining table.

The bent bottom shelf of your bookcase. 

The crooked picture in the upstairs hallway.

Fixes turn to small talk turns to long conversations turns to lunch in the herb garden turns to sunsets by the pond. 

“What happens when there’s nothing left to fix?” you ask, watching the last of the sun’s light disappear beyond the horizon. “You have to be running out of stuff by now.” You try not to sound anxious, try not to worry that this may only be a passing fancy for him.

Kento pauses, finger still on the pond’s surface. He thinks for a moment, soft breeze ruffling the fabric of his blue shirt. A shiver skims across your skin, and you pull his jacket tighter around your shoulders. 

“Nothing to fix…” he mutters, pulling his hand from the pond to pick up one of the duck figurines. He glances at you before holding the duck up and letting go. You gasp as it breaks against the stone next to him. Kento’s gaze slides to you, a smirk stretched across his handsome face as he picks up another duck. A playful hum as he pretends to think, letting the second duck drop and break. 

“Looks like you need new ducks.” 

You don’t try to hide your laughter, playfully shoving against his shoulder as he sweeps the figurine pieces into a small pile. 

He stays an extra ten minutes that night, cleaning up the broken ducks and double-checking that nothing got into the pond. When you hand his jacket back, he refuses to take it. Instead, he makes you promise to return it when he comes back with new ducks and departs with a kiss on your cheek that has you too stunned to argue. 

After seven months of fixing, then breaking, then fixing again, you stand across from Kento in your living with nothing left for him. Nothing to break nor to fix. You’re sure that won’t stop him – you can see him already eyeing your bookcase – but you’re tired of your things caught in a constant state of not quite usable.

You have a much better idea. One that’s been stewing in your brain since he first appeared at your door with a bag of pond decorations. 

Your teeth sink into your bottom lip when his back is turned, pulling at the skin until it gives and you taste iron. The sting makes you hiss, and Kento turns to you with a startled quickness. His eyes immediately fall to the blood on your lips, watching intensely as your tongue darts out to lick it away. 

“Any way you can fix–”

One hand on your jaw, the other on your neck, Kento pulls you forward until his lips are on yours. His tongue swipes across your bottom lip, the sting pulling a sharp gasp from your mouth. He swallows it with another kiss, a desperate groan as his hand slides from your jaw into your hair. 

You part from him with a soft push, but he refuses to go far, leaning his forehead against yours. The hand on your neck moves to cup your cheek, thumb gently tracing the cut on your lip. 

“Better?” he rasps, pulling his fixated gaze from your mouth to your eyes. 

“Not sure,” you breathe, leaning in until your lips brush against his. “You might have to do it again.”

Over the next two years, you learn just how difficult life can be loving a Jujutsu sorcerer. 

While each moment spent with Kento is nothing short of bliss, it makes his absence all the more painful. Nights without him are spent worrying over his safety, doing everything in your power to not call the one number he’d given you in case of emergencies. Pain lingers in your chest every time you watch him walk out the door, threatening to squeeze your heart until it pops. 

Despite your feelings, you let him go every time.

And every time he returns to you. 

Most of the time he’s exhausted, and you’re more than happy to take care of him, to get him fed and washed and safe in bed. Sometimes he returns with new bruises or the occasional stitched wound. You fuss over him, and, despite his insistence that you don’t need to, he lets you do it.

The worst is when not all of him makes it back. It’s rare – Kento isn’t one to let his work affect his home life – but it does happen. On those days he sits by the pond, watching the fish go in circles for hours on end while you tend to the garden or pick wildflowers to decorate the house. 

He comes back to himself slowly, always apologizing with overwhelming affection when he’s more himself. There’s no reason for him to be sorry, you’ve told him so countless times. He’s here with you and that’s all you need.

He shares his plans with you late those nights, dreams of the two of you on a beach in Malaysia. You’re lulled to sleep by the whispered fantasies of the ocean breeze, the sun on your skin, and a ring on your finger. 

The first time you meet Takuma Ino, you slap him.

You don’t mean to – you’ve heard so many good things about him from Kento – but he appears on your doorstep, face bruised and spirit broken, and the words come spilling out of his mouth as thick and harsh as his tears. 

Curses. Attack. Shibuya. 

Burning. Kento. 

Not sure if he’ll make it.

You act before you think, leaving yet another mark on his already wounded face. You apologize immediately, but he takes it in stride. A pained smile on his face, Ino helps you pack a bag and brings you to Jujutsu High for the first time. 

Your introduction to Shoko is the stench of cigarettes and being bluntly told there’s little chance of Kento surviving his injuries. You’re too tired to worry, only desperate to see him. She gives you a pitying smile, allowing you and Ino into the infirmary. 

Your strength leaves you the moment you lay eyes on Kento’s bandaged form. Ino keeps you steady, a hand grasping your arm to keep you upright while he slides a chair over for you. You collapse into the chair, eyes fixated on your love.

You’ve seen him injured, but never to this extent. Only his upper half is visible to you, his torso and left arm completely wrapped in bandages. Those bandages extend up the left side of his neck, packed with gauze as it covers the left side of his face. 

You reach over, gently brushing a piece of his hair from his face. His face contorts, a pained groan escaping his lips. You pull your hand back, heart-shattering at his labored breaths. 

You’ve seen him soft, vulnerable, hurt, but never weak. 

He groans again, muscles tensing, hand fisting into the thin sheet over his lower half. You set your hand over his, tenderly running your thumb across his knuckles. Murmurs of praise and love rush past your lips as you try to comfort him. 

Ino sets a hand on your shoulder, squeezing reassuringly. A silent question if you’re alright. You look back at him with a smile that doesn’t quite reach your eyes. You give his hand a light squeeze, a million thanks on the tip of your tongue. 

He moves your bag next to your chair, eyes glancing to the infirmary door. 

“If you need anything…” he says softly. You nod, watching Ino give Kento one last look of deep anguish before he forces himself away. 

His footsteps fade. The door clicks shut. Kento groans, blood staining the bandages on his face. 

You weep. 

Recovery is long and hard. 

The first weeks back home are spent struggling to adjust, Kento to his slow healing injuries and you to his attitude. He’s never angry or short with you, always appreciative of your efforts, and far more considerate of your feelings than his own, but you can see the exhaustion in his face. You catch the way he deflates when he thinks you aren’t looking, the way he frowns whenever he passes by a mirror, the way he politely avoids your affection.

He may not voice it, but you know he feels defeated. 

You keep yourself in good spirits, telling yourself that your optimism will catch on eventually.

And it does.

Months pass and Kento learns to move more, talk more, smile more. Ino visits on occasion, the two of you playfully bullying Kento into getting the rest he deserves while you make dinner. Shoko once a week, then once every other week, then once a month, keeping an eye on Kento’s recovery. Her visits aren’t long, and she’s still terribly blunt with you, but you go out of your way to ensure she knows how grateful you are to her, and she gives you a rare smile just before she leaves.

Things are good for the most part. Bad nights still happen, as they are bound to after what he’s been through. Nights when Kento’s trapped in his memories until you manage to wake him. Nights when he can’t sleep, sitting out by the pond until long after the sun has risen. Nights when he flinches at even the softest of touches from you. 

You worry. How could you not? But you’re there for him every step of the way, supporting him when he needs you there and giving him space when he doesn’t. 

He kisses you again six months after Shibuya. After a particularly bad nightmare, you coax him back into the waking world only to have him collapse into sobs against your chest. You hold him, soothe him, let him finally have this release. He sobs through apology after apology, to you, to Ino, to people you’ve never heard of. Everything spills out of him, every worry, every impossible dream, every fear, the neverending paranoia that one day you’ll regret wasting so much time on him.

“Never in my life would I regret you, Kento Nanami,” you tell him, hand softly cupping the ruined half of his jaw. “You’re stuck with me forever.”

He kisses you then, desperate and wanting, and you spend the night showing him every way you could love him now and forever. 

A year and a half after Shibuya, you lay in the field of wildflowers near your home with your fingers woven through the mottled and warped ones of your husband. It’s a peaceful afternoon spent gazing at clouds, sharing carefully sliced oranges, and basking in the warmth of the sun.

Kento turns, watching your eyes explore the sky as you smile and point at a cloud that’s shaped like a fish. Golden light on your face, petals stuck to your hair, you’ve never looked more beautiful to him. You catch him staring, laughter spilling out of you as you snuggle up to his side. You kiss his cheek, lifting the hand clasped in yours to point him toward your fish-shaped cloud.

He never sees the cloud, too distracted by the way your rings sparkle in the sunlight. 

It isn’t Malaysia, no. It’s far, far better.

[tightjeansjavi]

his eyes still glisten

A/N: so, this is based off a real life experience that I and others have probably been on both the receiving end, and the giving end whether it was intentional or not. Healthy communication in all types of relationships is important, as are boundaries. We all make mistakes and hurt people sometimes, but the important part to remember is that as human beings, we feel. We innately want to do good, and sometimes these hard conversations need to be had. Remember to also hold compassion for yourself during a painful/stressful time. We always can do better, and be better. 🤍

~word count: 2.9k~

Pairing | Joel Miller x f!reader

summary: Joel is feeling neglected in his current relationship with you. He breaks finally when you are no show to a planned dinner date. You and Joel talk through your feelings and set healthy boundaries in your relationship .

warnings: angst, hurt, some fluff, miss communication,minor whump, comfort, arguments, light mention of alcohol consumption, uncomfortable conversations, boundaries being set, vulnerability, just two people trying to navigate in a relationship, resolution, no age gap, reader has no physical descriptions, +18 minors dni!

main masterlist masterlist

As human beings we often find ourselves being engrossed in our lives. It’s never often intentional, but it’s easy as sliced butter to inadvertently make everything about ourselves. Our jobs, our relationships, our opinions, our thoughts. When we find ourselves too focused on our own lives, we forget the important people. Our friends, our families, our partners. You’ve forgotten your Joel, and he’s not quite sure how much longer he can keep his voice silent.

It’s not that you’re a bad person, a bad partner, a bad listener, you’ve just fallen off the rails a bit. Joel knows that he too needs to work on communicating his feelings better. His problem is that he often finds himself bottling everything up for so long that it begins to chip away at his exterior, piece by piece. He’s hurting; but you don’t realize it. After being together for so long, the honeymoon stage eventually wears off. He’s always been there to listen, be the shoulder used to soak your tears in. You’ve been good to him, so good to him, but lately he’s been feeling neglected. He feels the uneasiness in the pit of his stomach. The trepidation that maybe you just don’t love him anymore.

He doesn’t want to jump to conclusions, but there’s only so much he can take before he breaks.

“Sir, are you ready to order?” The waitress at yours and Joel’s favorite restaurant asks with a gentle smile. She’s stopped by the table a few times now.

Joel checks his phone with a heavy sigh. You're running twenty-minutes late, but he wants to give you the benefit of the doubt. He gives the waitress a small, polite smile as he shakes his head. “No, Just a few more minutes. My girlfriend is running late.”

“Of course sir, no problem. Would you like another beer while you wait?”

He nods tightly before she even has the chance to finish.

The minutes begin to tick by as he nurses his crisp bottle Miller Lite. He feels pathetic each time he glances at the entrance to the restaurant. His mind plays a cruel trick on him as he searches for your face in the other diners.

Where the fuck are you?

He scrolls through his messages between you and him. Searching for any context clues as to why you were late. He calls you once, twice, a third time. He can’t help the dread that begins to seep deep into his bones. His palms are clammy to the touch as he imagines the worst possible outcomes; you’re breaking up with him, you’re seeing someone else.

No. No. He chants silently to his callous thoughts.

You’re just running late.

He finishes off his second beer as he begins to feel the tears sting the corner of his eyes. He refuses to show his emotions in a public setting. He won’t break down here, like this. He fishes his wallet from his back pocket as he slaps down enough bills to cover both the two beers, and a hefty tip for his waitress.

Once he’s safely behind the wheel of his truck, he finally breaks.

You were in back to back meetings all day. You were exhausted, burnt out, frustrated to the max limit, and your dinner date with Joel was forced to the back of your mind. Subconsciously, work was beginning to become your top priority, while your relationship was pushed to the backburner. It was becoming hard to juggle it all. Your sense of work-life balance was depleting faster than you could keep up. At the end of an extinguished flame that was barely holding on by a thread, was your boyfriend. Your Joel.

It’s a moment too late when you’re smacked head on with the realization that you fucked up. Shit, what day is today? Thursday. Oh–fuck, Joel. Your own sense of dread forces its way into your system as you frantically dial his number. You barely hear your co-worker telling you to have a good evening as you rush out to your car.

He doesn’t pick up. You try again, and again, and again.

He’s purposely ignoring your calls and you can’t seem to grasp the reason as to why.

A sense of relief washes over you when you find his truck parked in the driveway of your shared home. The lights in every room are turned off. He usually keeps a few on when he knows you’re working late in the office.

He hears your keys jingle at the front door from where he’s sat at the kitchen table. He doesn’t budge. He sits there with a stoic look on his face, and his hands clasped in his lap. Remnants of his tears laid streaked across his cheekbones like two cavernous streams.

“Joel, baby? Hey, I’m so sorry about tonight. I was in back to back meetings all day, Eric was being a fucking cranky pants, again. I had to stay late to work on this project that is due at the end of day Friday.” It felt like you were talking strictly to yourself as you softly closed the front door behind you, and plopped your keys in the bowl on the hall table right next to his. “Joel?”

Your ears perked at the sound of the kitchen chair scraping across the tile as you rounded the corner. “There you are. I’m so sorry, baby. I–”

“Why couldn’t you jus’ call me, or send me a text message. I sat in the fucking restaurant waitin’ for you. I could have changed the time of the reservation had I known you would be workin’ late.” He answers flatly as his forefinger nervously begins to pick away at the skin along his cuticles. A nasty habit he can’t seem to break.

“Baby, I know. I didn’t have a ton of access to my phone, and I just got caught up in a lot of shit today. You know it wasn’t intentional, right?”

He swallows down the urge to scoff at your dismissive response as his eyes slowly focus on you. “Can you..not call me baby right now? I’m trying to have a fuckin’ conversation with you, and you’re completely dismissing what I just said.” He bites back out of pure frustration.

“Dismissing you? Joel, I just said I was fucking sorry. I told you that I was busy–”

“Yeah, I heard you. You think I'm not busy too? Yet, I still take the time out of my schedule to communicate with you, because it’s the considerate and bare minimum thing to do! You couldn’t just take five fuckin’ seconds to send me a text?!”

“Joel, I never said that you weren’t busy too? Can you please not put words in my mouth? I was in back-to-back meetings. I barely had any access to my phone! What are you insinuating here? That I'm just making up excuses?!”

“You’re tellin’ me that you had zero time to communicate to your boyfriend?! I’m not insinuating that you’re makin’ up excuses, because that’s exactly what you are doing right now. All I'm asking for is some communication. Do you know how fucking pathetic I felt waiting around for you? I just wanted to have a relaxing evening with my girlfriend. I’ve been looking forward to it all day, all week, and it’s like you don’t care.” His voice cracked at the end. He felt utterly defeated as he scrubbed a hand across his face with an exasperated sigh. He hated confrontation. He hated fighting with you. It ripped his heart to shreds to see the way your face immediately fell from his words.

When you couldn’t muster up a response, he took this as his opportunity to get everything off of his chest.

“Look, I don’t want to hurt you, darlin.’ That is quite literally the last thing I want to do, but i’m at my fuckin’ breakin’ point here. You’re the most important person in my life outside of my brother, and lately I've been feeling neglected in our relationship. I don’t think you mean it intentionally, but these past few weeks I have been hurting. I know I should have communicated this to you sooner, but lately it’s been all about you. I know you’re busy at work. I know you’re stressed and frustrated with some of your co-workers, but what about my day? What about the projects that I have been working on? What about my stress? What about..me?” His eyes glistened like two shiny marbles under the warm glow of the overhanging kitchen light.

You were taken aback. It felt as if a freight train had collided with you and smashed your body down into smithereens. You hesitantly pulled out the kitchen chair across from where he was sitting before you slowly sank down. “Joel, I had no idea that you had been feeling this way at all. I truly thought that things were okay between us. I’m sorry I didn’t read between the lines and picked up on your change of mood. I’ve just been so caught up in myself lately, that I haven’t created the time for us to just sit down and communicate like this.” You softly spoke as you clasped your hands along the smooth finish of the wooden table.

“It’s not just about reading between the lines, I have some responsibility in this as well because I can’t just expect you to know exactly how i’m feeling if i’m not taking the time to communicate it to you. I don’t want you to feel like you need to internalize everything I'm sayin’, okay? I jus’ have done a disservice to us both for keeping this shit bottled up for as long as I have.” He murmured as he moved his hands from his lap and rested them along the table.

“How..else have I been making you feel lately, Joel?”

You watched as he took a deep inhale through his nose, before exhaling shakily through his mouth. You saw his lower lip wobble with uncertainty as his still glistening eyes met yours.

“Truthfully? I jus’ feel like I ain’t as important to you anymore. Like I could just get up and leave one day and you wouldn’t even notice that I wasn’t there. I feel like I'm always there to listen, and comfort you, but you don’t do the same for me. I feel like I constantly am seeking reassurance that you actually still want to be in a relationship with me. I feel like it’s a one way street, and my car is about to spin out because i’ve lost all capability of steering. I feel obligated to tell you the things that you want to hear, in fear of hurting your feelings unintentionally. I feel like i’m constantly putting my best foot forward in the relationship, and in the same breath, I’m trying to hold it together with some expired fuckin’ glue. I feel like I've been putting my everything into us, and I'm just becoming an afterthought to you.” Admittedly, it felt good to get everything he was keeping pent up off his chest finally.

“Joel, you are so important to me. I absolutely would notice if you just weren’t here one day. I’m sorry that I have been making everything about myself lately. I promise you it’s not in an intentional, or malicious way, I've just been getting sidetracked, and I haven’t been taking the time to focus on us and our relationship. I completely understand why you are feeling this way lately, and your present feelings towards me are completely valid. I haven’t been the best partner to you, and you shouldn’t feel like our relationship is a one way street. It should be a two way street, and I regrettably have lost sight of that.”

He had half expected you to blow up in his face over his vulnerable admittance. He had his own baggage from past failed relationships, so that unhealed side of him wanted to believe that you were just complying out of spite. The healed side of him was a gentle reminder that you were human too, and that mistakes are made, and people are hurt, but the most important fact was that you were listening to him. You were validating his feelings and holding yourself accountable.

“Darlin’ it’s okay. We’ve both been shit communicators lately. I think it's something that we both need to work on, don’t you think? Earlier this evening when I saw that you called, I was purposely ignoring you because I was feeling angry, hurt, and I was feeling bitter. I know I should have just taken the call, but I also didn’t want to explode on you either. I was at that point, and before anything could be said, I needed to calm down and collect my thoughts. I let my emotions get the best of me sometimes, and that’s also somethin’ i’d like to personally work on within myself.”

“Yeah, we can definitely use some touching up in that department. I need to start taking your feelings into consideration more. I’m glad that you didn’t pick up your phone, because honestly? It probably would have gotten ugly. I also think that lately I have turned you into my personal punching bag, because I'm constantly throwing my work drama onto your shoulders without even thinking about asking if you’re in the headspace to take on my emotions. I just open my mouth and spew, and I need to be more considerate on how you're feeling at that moment. I know we can always vent to each other about our frustrations, but maybe a boundary should be set?”

He slowly reached for your hands across the middle of the table as his fingers slotted through yours. He gave your hands a reassuring squeeze, followed by a soft smile.

“Yeah.” He rasped warmly, “I think it would be good for us to set some healthy boundaries. Sometimes I just don’t have the emotional capacity to take on your frustrations, especially if I am feeling particularly down on myself, or just in a general mood. With that, I really think it would be good for us to think about the positives as well y’know? Maybe we should try to not let our frustrations completely take over the vibe all the time? Cause honestly, I do find myself seeking your comfort and support when I find myself needing it most, but with that, I also need to remember that you might not have the emotional capacity to drop everything for me, and that is okay. We both have lives existing outside of the relationship, I jus’ think we gotta find that balance that works for both of us.”

You gently squeezed his hands back as you attentively listened to everything he was saying. “Yes, I agree that sometimes we both don’t have that emotional capacity for one another. Perhaps a level of consent can be established? Just a simple, ‘hey, i’m really frustrated right now, can I please tell you how i’m feeling?’ That way, it doesn’t just feel like we’re venting without checking in with one another first?”

“I think that is a great idea, darlin,’ why should consent and boundaries only be applied in the bedroom? I think it’s beneficial to have it present in all aspects of our relationship. I also would appreciate it if maybe we start having these conversations more? Maybe they can be like weekly check in’s to see how we're feeling? This might be considered to be a little lame, but it’s almost like we’re scrapbookin’ our feelings? Maybe that ain’t the right word for it, but I jus’ want our line of communication to be open, y’know?” He could feel his once tensed up nerves begin to gradually settle. His heart no longer felt like a twisted coil now that you both were communicating.

“Yes, we should make a point to sit down and make the time to have these conversations. It might be a bit tough at first, but I think we can manage it. I get what you mean with the scrapbooking comment. It almost brings a lighter element to it? Plus, we don’t have to just talk about the frustrating stuff. We can talk about all the fun and exciting aspects as well. Joel, I just want you to know that you don’t have to bottle everything up before it becomes too much for you to handle. You can always talk to me, and I can’t promise that I will always be readily available, but I will actively put in the effort to be there for you, just like you have been for me. You and I aren’t perfect. No one is. No relationship is flawless, but I think with a bit of nurturing, we’ll be alright.”

Your own eyes began to glisten as you listened to the familiar scrape of the kitchen chair along the tile as he padded over to you. Your arms instinctively wrapped around his neck, as his own looped tenderly around your waist. He nearly crushed you to his chest from how tightly he was hugging you. He really loved you that much. You were his girl after all.

“I love you, honey. Thank you for taking the time to listen and acknowledge my feelings. I appreciate it so much, and we’re gonna be alright. We’re jus’ hittin’ a little speed bump right now, but we haven’t lost control of steering entirely.” He nuzzled his face into your cheek. You could feel the bristles in his beard gently scratch your skin as he squeezed you tightly.

“I love you so much, Joel. Thank you for being honest with me, and I promise I'll do better.”

“I know you will, baby. S’okay. We’re all just human at the end of the day.”

banners made by the lovely @saradika 🩵

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[insertmusicalreferencehere]

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[spectrerie]

Your Simon

Simon Riley x reader (gn I'm 99% sure)

TW: toxic!Simon, whump, captivity, psychological torture(?), kidnapping, yandere!Simon, maybe don't read this if you're only comfortable with fluff and light smut... even though there no smut in this (maybe I'll add an epilogue or sm idk)

Approx 2k words, random drabble. wrote this at 4 am, un-betad. Let's not nitpick, yeah? Cool.

Simon knew you were fragile, but he didn’t think you could be so easy to break. This was his third deployment since he’d met you. The third since he’d pulled you into his life. At first you’d been panicked, indignant and ungrateful. You didn’t understand the significance of his actions. Every detail meticulously planned out, every minute aspect of your stay without him accounted for. You just had to stop fighting him and start fighting for yourself. Fight to stay alive, just like him. He just wanted to share this with you, why wouldn’t you let him?

“Don’t worry, Love, I’ll be back in no time. You won’t even get a chance to miss me.” His hand stayed on the back of your head, fingers locked in your hair, holding your head up so you could look into his eyes. So you could watch him lie to you. You knew the routine well at this point. 

First the devil may care Ghost would ply you with cheeky taunts to smooth out your concern. His abrasiveness would wear you down, polish you into a reflection of himself. 

Despite yourself you began to cry, fat tears rolling down your cheeks. In the beginning it wasn’t him you had missed. It was the promise of regular meals, and fresh water. Baths. Heating. Freedom. Now he was the centre of your world. He was your everything. 

While he was deployed you didn’t know how long you’d be left to stew in your own sweat and the grime of the basement he’d thrown you in. The smell of dust and mold hung heavy in the air down here. Soon the smell of your body would join them creating a fetid blend that would stay in your nostrils for weeks after your release. If you lived that long. The single hanging bulb barely illuminating your surroundings, not that there was much to see.  

Gallons of water lined one of the walls, at least a dozen of them neatly tucked from one dusty corner to another. You’d count them in earnest when he left you. Your mind was to panicked now to begin the frantic calculations of how long you could stretch your supplies. Just in case. 

Two boxes of hardtack biscuits and cans of god only knew what were neatly pressed up against another.  At times you feared he’d been feeding you cat food. You’d opened cans of greying meat floating in gelatinous gravy, other times the cans contained some kind of soup. Either way you’d choke it down cold. 

A part of you loved it here, you felt closer to him. You were a soldier too. This is where you’d live or die. Your battlefield.

His hand left your head and he went to the centre of the room where a small metal cot with a thin mattress stood. No pillow or duvet, but at least he’d given you a thick itchy woollen blanket. Army surplus to complete your private barracks. You’d earned the cot after weeks of good behaviour, no crying, no useless begging, no disobedience. A luxurious upgrade from the sheets of cardboard he’d left you to sleep on during his previous deployments. You followed before he even turned to call you, taking a seat on the mattress. 

“Will you miss me, pet?” He asked, coaxing your chin up with a gloved finger. 

“Yes, of course” you said between sobs. He huffed out a humourless laugh, and stroked your head. 

He hardly had to grind you down anymore, soon Ghost gave way to Simon. The mask he wore over his soul fell away, leaving behind the raw and broken boy he’d been before he learnt being someone else was as easy as covering his face. Part two of your dance begun.

The tears you thought you’d controlled began to fall again, pouring out of your tired eyes as you looked up at him. Your protector and captor. The man who told you everyday he’d die without you, the same man who held your life in his hands. 

“Please, please, Si… don’t forget about me here. Please.” The last word came out as a choked sob as you pressed your face against his thighs. Begging him to let you go was useless. You knew the steps now. Let him lead you, let yourself need him. Let him have something to control, someone who wouldn’t disappoint him. Someone he didn’t have to pretend with, unless he wanted to. 

“All you have to do is survive, pet. Same as me.” He knelt down in front of you, dark eyes shining with a mania that told you he was past pleading with. “All we have to do is survive. Think of me while you’re fighting in here, yeah? And I’ll be thinking of you out there. You’ll think of me won’t you? Hmm?” 

You nodded. 

“So say it.” 

Gathering yourself, you pulled away from him, eye to eye it was easier to believe the words that tumbled out of your mouth. 

“I’ll be thinking of you Si, so please, please,” your voice began to quake with unshed tears, “please come back to me. I’ll die without you.” 

You knew he was smiling beneath his mask. His hands came up to cradle your head, his grip too tight to be anything but a reminder of the control he had over you. 

“Of course you would. We need each other, don’t we?” 

You nodded and said your well rehearsed line. “We love each other.”

He watched you weep for a while, and you knew a part of him felt sick with himself. If he returned, if you lived, he’d tell you as much when he came home. 

The realisation that this was your home hit harder down here, puling more tortured sobs out of you as he watched. You weren’t sure if the ragged breaths you heard were yours or his. 

“Simon, Simon” you chanted his name over and over as you cried, like a prayer to a long dead god. He stood above you, within reach. One touch and you’d know he was real. But you cried out his name, and he watched. Until watching became too much and the sound of his name was punctuated with the sound of his boots ascending the stairs. 

The sound of a key turning.

And then the silence. 

— — — 

You counted the days by litres of water, cold canned meals, and fitful slashes sleep. 

One of each a day. 

No cheating. 

You recited songs in your mind, the lyrics painted dark by the deep gravely voice of your thoughts. Simon’s voice. 

You imagined a life with Simon, a life different from this. Those dreams were all that kept you sane. If this was sanity. 

A life with sunshine and tenderness that didn’t have to be earned. With music and hot food, baths together. The warmth of his body against yours. Every dream began and ended with the sound of a key turning, the creak of the old cellar door, deep lungfuls of fresh air. 

After meals and before sleep you’d press your nose to the tiny blacked out window. Taking deep breaths of the English countryside before closing it again. Air when were awake, warmth when you slept. These rules and rituals were what kept you alive here. Hell was rolling green hills and cloudy skies. Hell had no one around for miles. Hell and home were two sides of the same coin.

The same countryside he’d offered to show you when you’d first began dating him. You recounted those first few dates with him often. Combing your mind for any sign of the man he’d turn out to be. 

It had been too soon for a weekend away, you told yourself this time and time again. Turning your captivity against yourself in your darkest moments was a game you hated but still played. What fool would take a trip with a man they barely knew.? You hadn’t even known him for two full months when you went away with him. Your 6th date. This may have been the longest date in history. 

Sometimes you thought of your friends and your family. Were they worried? Were the little dribs and drabs of communication Simon let you have with them enough to keep them satiated. Had they stopped caring, like Simon said they would. 

He often told you the family a person was born into was rarely their true family. Like his. You knew pieces of the life he rarely spoke about. The father he hated, the mother he pitied. The brother he held complex, painful feelings for. You hardly heard about him at all. You suspected he was the only person outside of the 141 Simon cared about. Maybe the only person he truly loved. 

Did he love you? Actually love you?

Could he? 

Another litre, another can.  Another day. 

— — — 

The creak of the old cellar door woke you, as usual. You’d long since stopped running up the steps when you heard it, not trusting your mind to be honest with you. 

“Baby? Are you awake, Love?” 

You didn’t believe it. You couldn’t. The disappointment would hurt to much. 

The sound of heavy boots descending the stairs drew something out of you, but yet you still couldn’t let yourself believe it was real. That you had survived. Again. 

Warm fingers caressed your cheek, tracing the shape of your eyes and nose, until they finally settled on your neck, below your jaw. A beat passed in tense silence, you could still be dreaming.

A shaky breath that wasn’t yours filled the room, “thank god.” You opened your eyes, and he was there. A dark figure against the light, stoic among the swirling flecks of dust in the air. 

“Si?” Your voice was weak and hoarse from who knew how many weeks of disuse. 

He nodded, lifting you from your cot with ease. Holding your body against his tightly as he brought you up the stairs. Your eyes fluttered against the light, the early evening sun cutting  through you until you help your eyes tightly closed.

You heard him shush you softly before you realised you’d been crying. 

“Si,” you said again and you felt him hold you closer. 

“I know baby, I know. I’m so proud of you. We made it.” 

He set you down on the edge of the bath and began the careful work of peeling your filthy clothes off. 

The final chords of this tragic, disgusting song had begun, and your dance was ending. 

He washed you gently, tears in his eyes as he rinsed away the layers of pain he’d caused you. 

He spoke to you in gentle tones, barely above a whisper, as though any loud noise would send you into shock. He didn’t wait for your responses, knowing you were too exhausted to give any. 

“It’s okay, pet. It’s okay, you’re safe now. You’re out. You’re out.

“Were you scared? I know baby, I know how scary it was, but you’re safe now. I’ll never let anything happen to you, never. You’re too important, I love you so much, pet. Too much.” 

You let the hot water and his words baptise you, remaking you under the heat of his love for you. He washed every part of you, yet nothing felt as intimated as when he washed your hair, stroking your head gently as he cried and promised you things you weren’t sure would ever come to be. 

When you were clean he wrapped you in a towel and left to get you something to wear. 

Was that you? Was that really you in the mirror? Chapped lips, large sunken eyes, your cheeks were hollow and your skin dull, your natural undertone wiped away and replaced with a pallid grey. When he came back you still couldn’t look away from the person in the mirror. He placed a pair of sweatpants and one of his t shirts on the heater and closed the door, giving you time to settle back into yourself. Your new self. 

You hated him. You hated him for doing this to you, making you this person. 

You opened the cabinet and went through the minor motions of humanity. Brushing your teeth, brushing your hair, and pulling the t-shirt on mechanically. You left the bottoms folded, knowing you wouldn’t be able to keep them on no mater how tightly you tied them. He was just too big, and you were just too small. 

You clutched a hair band in your hand, knowing he’d want to tie your hair back. He loved doing those small things for you. And you hated him for it. 

When you shuffled into the bedroom you stood in the doorway, watching you with a grief in his eyes as though he hand’t done this to you. 

He pulled you close, picking you up and laying you gently on the bed. The mattress felt obscene after weeks on the cot, you wept again and hated him for turning you into this person, a person that cried at everything. A person who knew what it felt like to sleep on the floor. Someone who felt blessed to have a bed. 

He took his place beside you, and you pulled yourself close, holding your body to the curves and edges of his. His arms wound around you and pinned you to him, his lips brushed your forehead and you felt his tears fall, running down your cheeks and mixing with yours.

“I was so scared without you. I really thought I wasn’t gonna make it this time.” 

“Me too, Si.”

You understood how much he needed this, how much he needed to be the villain, how much he needed to hate himself before he could go into hell and be a good soldier. So he could come back home a hero, a rescuer. Your protector. 

Your Simon.

[141wh0re]

Red Spider Lily - Pt 2

CW: DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT | MDNI 18+ | Anxiety, depression, self-loathing, self-depreciation, anger, violence, addiction, recovery, reader on a rampage, Simon being a goof, soft Simon, fluff, angst, whump/whumpee, grumpy x grumpier, suggestive content, mutual pining, kissing.

Pairings: BodyGuard!Simon x RichBitch!Reader

Summary: It's possible to live a life worth living, you just have to make it through the turbulent sea, and trust in Simon to get you the high you need.

Word Count: 3.8k

Thick, gray clouds loomed in the sky, making it hard to discern if it were early morning or late afternoon. Thunder roared like a lion in the distance while heavy raindrops hit the glass, trickling down the floor-length windows of your bedroom. The scent of fresh linens and the faint smell of your shampoo lingered on the pillows under your head as you lay motionless in your bed, watching the rainfall.

The price of winning the battle against Hyperthermia was quite taxing on the body, despite Simon's diligent battle in ensuring your hydration, it left you reduced to a state of aches and fatigue. Your abdomen burned and cramped with the slightest movements, your head throbbed, and your eyes were sore from the excessive amounts of sleep. But your back and neck took the worst of it from the state of immobilization. Even the slightest movements hurt.

Simon stood in the doorway of your bedroom, his honey-colored eyes studied your limp form while you were lost in your thoughts.

He was worried about you. You hadn't been the same since the incident, and to make matters worse, your father found out about your addiction, and the incident that had you fighting for your life, after Simon requested a house visit from your doctor.

It was unusual for Simon to hover as much as he had been, he normally opted to stay in the living room and let you go about your day within the confines of your castle of glass; but now he found himself lingering a little closer, watching your every move, and waiting for something. He could feel it coming - this was just the calm before the storm.

"Bird.." Simon's deep timbre floated into your bedroom, momentarily disturbing your thoughts. "Time to eat."

"Not hungry." You replied tiredly, your voice was weak and strained, heavy with unspoken emotion.

Simon exhaled a resigned sigh, refraining from using his usual snark towards your disobedience. Instead, he took several steps until he stood in front of you, blocking the windows with his bulk.

"C'mon, we've hav'ta replenish what you've lost." He murmured, reaching for the heavy, weighted blanket draped over your frame. It was his personal blanket that he had laid over your weak frame when you fell asleep earlier.

A shiver ran through your sore frame from the sudden loss of warmth. Your eyes moved from his black hoodie to peer up at his face. For once, he'd forewent the usual black surgical mask, leaving his face uncovered. The meaning of it wasn't lost on you. He did it for your comfort. To ensure you knew it was him while in your delirious state the last few days. It didn't matter that he was the only other person regularly in your house.

Your eyes ran over his features, taking in the faint scars lingering under a light dusting of his dark, five-o-clock shadow. The bridge of his nose was slightly crooked -likely from the many hand-to-hand fights he'd been in within his military career- and the edge of his jaw was soft, leading into a strong, squared chin.

"I said I'm not hungry, Simon." You mumbled, peering up into his orbs.

"Well, bird, I wasn't askin'," He replied bluntly as his large, rough hands overtook your smaller ones, and he carefully extricated you from the comfortable confines of your nest of blankets and pillows.

You wanted to protest, but the logical side of your mind prevented you from doing so. He was a large man, after all, it would be a losing fight at best.

Your movements were sluggish, as if every bone in your body was replaced with lead. His hand rested on the small of your back, guiding you into the shallow hall, and out to the open-concept living room. He led you to your usual bar stool at the breakfast bar where a plate of plain toast and scrambled eggs sat. 

“Somethin’ light, so your stomach can actually keep it down,” he offered, keeping his back to you while he moved about your kitchen to pour you a glass of pedialyte.

If you hadn’t been in such a sour mood, you’d probably have thanked him for his efforts and care, but instead, your eyes zeroed in on the accosting yellow bits of sustenance on your plate. You hated eggs. 

Simon set the glass beside your plate just as his phone began buzzing in the pockets of his joggers. He let out a quiet breath before taking the call, and disappeared into the hall that led to his room. 

Your face scrunched in disgust as you stared at the plate’s contents in front of you. 

Didn’t Simon know you hate eggs? Didn’t he know you found them appaling? Did he even care? He likely didn’t. You were just his client. A responsibility. A paycheck. What would he care about you? A privileged, spoiled, rich girl who couldn’t do anything for herself. 

Your heart clenched at the thought of him only seeing you as a paycheck. Nothing of meaning or value. He wasn’t taking care of you because he gave a shit. He was taking care of you out of obligation. To keep you alive, so he could continue getting his hefty sums from your father. 

But little to your knowledge, Simon never did anything out of obligation. He was a man who did whatever he wanted and wasn’t bound by anyone or anything to do something. However, you were too busy in your self-pity to think about that and recognize it for yourself. 

The deep baritone of his voice filled the quiet house, but his words were unable to be made out from behind his closed door. 

You began to spiral the longer you dwelled on the disgusting, scrambled eggs sat before you. Did anyone care about your likes and dislikes? No one knew you. Not the real you, anyways. You’d made sure of that. Always keeping yourself hidden behind the precious, socialite persona; because no one knows what lurks beneath the surface of the glitz and glam of your life. No one knows the pain in your heart and the inky, black tendrils of self-loathing that encompass your mind and twist and weave through your heart like a protective layer. 

The only person who’d ever known who you were was your mother. Before her passing, you were a normal, happy little girl. Spoiled, sure. But in the way a child is supposed to be spoiled - with love, affection, and attention. Now, you were merely spoiled by having money thrown at you as a means to keep you complacent, to keep you as the placid, obedient doll white-collar-society expected you to be. That your own father expected you to be.

Anger began to boil and swell under your skin, until it was blistering from the inside-out. Pain swirled in your heart, causing your stomach to roil and head to spin, like in an endless loop of riding a spinning tea-cup ride. Your hand idly moved to the ceramic plate, nimble fingers grasping the edge as you pulled it closer until your fingertips firmly grasped it. Without a second thought, you hurled the plate across the kitchen, causing it to slam against the wall, and the contents to fling to the floor before a loud crash sounded. The ceramic piece broke as it landed against the tile floor, sending shards to scatter. 

Your eyes darted to the glass of Pedialyte next, carefully evaluating it. It wasn’t even your favorite flavor. It was the disgusting fruit punch one, instead of blue-raspberry. Didn’t he know you hated fruit punch? Didn’t he care? 

Of course he didn’t. 

Before you could stop yourself, you chucked the glass in the same direction of the plate, causing it to shatter on impact against the wall. 

Simon came rushing out of his bedroom in a panicked state, handgun drawn and a focused gaze, searching to eliminate any threats within the house, only to be met with the sight of you angrily clambering off the bar stool to swipe at the weekly flower arrangement on the counter, sending it to the floor with another crash. 

“Bloody hell, bird! What the fuck are you doing?” Simon shouted, lowering his handgun to his side. 

You spun around to face him, angry tears burning at the edge of the lower lashline, threatening to spill over at any moment. 

“You don’t care! My father doesn’t care! Nobody cares!” You shot back, knocking down more fragile items. 

Simon cringed internally every time glass met its tragic end, either against the wall, or the tile floor. He watched in horror as you moved towards the end tables in the living room, knocking down old family photos, photos from before your mother’s passing. Before your father buried himself in work, so he didn’t have to be reminded of his loss. But in doing so, you lost more than one parent.

“Bird, stop..” Simon pleaded in a firm, but calm tone, trying to break you of your rampage. 

“No!” You shouted back, ignoring his pleas to continue smashing photo after photo before grabbing a lamp. 

Simon noticed where you were aiming to throw the lamp, and swiftly took action, coming up behind you and firmly securing your arms at your sides, making the lamp fall short of the contemporary gas fireplace you were aiming at. 

“Think you can throw a tantrum without blowing up the place?” Simon gritted out, breathing harshly beside your ear. 

As annoyed as he was with your little fit, he couldn’t help but feel a sense of pride and relief, knowing you were at least feeling something, rather than witnessing you numb yourself in deadly concoctions of your personal vices. He found your anger and resilience admirable, and a deeper part of him found your fire attractive. If you weren’t so hellbent on trying to destroy everything in your path, and on the brink of a psychotic breakdown, he’d probably have kissed you stupid.

You squirmed against his body defiantly, trying to escape his grip, feeling every taut muscle beneath his clothing as he pinned you to his chest. 

The dam behind your eyes had burst and gave way, letting free the hot tears of anger, hurt, and loneliness. Simon remained vigilant, keeping you clutched to him as he slowly sank to the floor, trying to console you as violent sobs wracked your frame, your shoulders shook, and body shuddered with every breath. 

Simon held you firmly in his lap, his heart breaking with every shuddering breath that left you. Though, when you wailed his heart shattered, much like the broken glass that was scattered about the living room and kitchen. 

Drool escaped your open mouth as silent tears continued to cascade down your cheeks, eyes closed in agony, and your hands weakly curled into your stomach as you doubled over in his hold. It crushed Simon to see you like this, so broken and angry. But it was better than the alternative, which was numbing it like you’d been doing for far too long. 

He wondered if you’d even properly grieved the loss of your mother, if you actually felt the pain of her absence permanently carved out in your life now. He wondered if you felt the stinging pain of rejection of your father every time he was too busy for you. He wondered if you’d ever properly known what it was to be cared for. 

“Talk to me, bird..” Simon murmured against your hair, holding you tighter than anyone’s ever held you before, as if he could force the broken parts of you back together, and be the glue you needed. 

“Everything is useless in this house..” You uttered weakly, sinking into the solid comfort of his chest. “The priceless art. Crystal chandeliers. Photos of false memories.” You added bitterly, venom seeping in every word. “Myself.” 

Simon tensed slightly at your final statement. He didn’t agree one bit. 

“No. That’s not true.” He murmured tersely. 

“It is true, Simon… I can’t do anything for myself. I can’t cook, clean, or drive. And I don’t have any basic survival skills. I’m a silverspoon, spoiled, rich girl who can’t do anything.” 

Simon clenched his teeth, the muscle in his jaw flexing against his pale skin before he grabbed your chin, forcing you to look him in the eyes. 

“You. Are. Not. Useless. Understood?” He stated firmly, “You’re a human being. Whatever you don’t know, you can learn. You’re not useless.” 

The conviction in his words had you tearing up again. It was such a foreign concept. To have someone believe in you. 

Simon believed in you. He always would. 

“Now. We’re going to clean up this mess..” He spoke gently, gesturing to the broken glass littering the penthouse floor, “By hand.” “Then I’ll order us a pizza, and we’ll take it easy, yeah?” 

As he spoke, his thumbs carefully wiped your tears from your face, replacing them with tender traces of his calloused fingertips. His eyes tracked your face until they landed on your eyes, and it was then that you noticed the softness of his usually hardened, honey-colored eyes. He looked at you with a tenderness you’d never noticed before. 

You nodded wordlessly, agreeing with his offer. 

“I’m sorry about the eggs, bird. I was jus’ thinkin’ of easily digestible foods, in case you were still feelin’ nauseous.” Simon muttered apologetically, brushing your hair away from your face. 

It had dawned on you then that Simon was simply trying to take care of you. He cared enough to think of the easiest foods to digest amongst the storm of your uneasy stomach and emotions.

He was doing whatever it took to make sure you were cared for while in your fit of selfishness and self-pity. And he hadn’t done it out of obligation. Simon was genuinely concerned for your well-being and your comfort, and you were just being a selfish, needy, entitled, spoiled brat throughout all of it. 

Feeling sorry for yourself when you had no right to. 

It was your own fault you were in this mess, and all you did was drag him into it with you. 

You don’t deserve his care. His comfort. But the way he’s holding you to him, and the way he’s looking at you as if you’ll shatter at any moment.. You don’t have it in you to pull away. 

Some desperate part of you longs for him to be the one to collect all your broken pieces and mold them into a new version of yourself. A version of yourself that you could come to love and appreciate. 

A version of yourself you didn’t feel the need to hide from, or to keep others at arm’s length.. A version of yourself you could trust and accept. 

“Thank you for taking care of me, Simon.” You whispered with reverence as you stared in his honey eyes, pouring every ounce of sincerity you could muster in your words.

“I’m always gonna take care of ya, bird.” He promised as he gently cradled your cheek, then lowered his forehead to rest against yours. 

His unspoken words of devotion, acceptance, and love burrowed deep within your heart, until it was consummated in your soul, and branded there for you to remember in the midst of any storm that warred within your head and heart. 

He’d be there… he’d always be there. 

Your stomach let out a hungry rumble as you lounged on the couch beside Simon, binge watching I Love Lucy. Your head rested comfortably in Simon’s lap as he mindlessly played with your hair, keeping you calm and relaxed as much as he could. 

It had been a few days since your emotions had taken the better of you, and sent you into a rampage. Thanks to Simon, you were able to get everything cleaned up, and thanks to daddy’s money, everything was replaced. 

Something within him snapped ever since your meltdown. He’s been so tender with you. Gentle, even. He’s showing he cares more, but you can’t help to think it’s a trap of some sort. 

He's begun toeing the line between just beyond professionalism and something more. It’s subtle, but it’s quite the shift from his original gruff demeanor. 

Simon chuckled and playfully tugged on your earlobe, “Guess my bird’s hungry, huh.” He mused. 

He gave a rare smile as your head tilted up to look at him, a pretty little pout on your lips, paired with a pleading look in your eyes. 

“Pleasssseeeee,” You drawled lazily, rubbing your tummy to show how hungry you were. 

Simon rolled his eyes and huffed in amusement, reaching down with his left hand to pinch the side of your hip. “Ya gotta let me up, love. I’m no magician.” 

You whined in resignation before reluctantly sitting up to free him from the couch. He stood with a small groan, stretching his arms over his head, and giving way to a small sliver of his pale, lower abdomen. Simon was nearly all muscle. Delicious. Built. Muscle. Except for his stomach, only the smallest layer of fat cushioned his abdomen, making your mouth water as you stared at it. 

The way that cushion would feel, pressed against your lower back, as he held you in place and folded you in half while pounding relentlessly into you velvety- 

“See somethin’ ya like, pretty girl?” He teased while reaching out to cup the back of your head, giving your hair a gentle stroke.

A foreign feeling blossomed in your face, feeling your cheeks warm. It had been ages since you had been affected by anyone like this. And it didn’t help the images your mind was conjuring, imagining Simon’s hulking form pressed against you. 

Simon smirked knowingly, taking in the sight of your sudden coyness. “Don’t tell me I’ve just made ya speechless,” he chuckled, “because, that’s a high compliment. Bein’ able to shut ya up.” 

You played it off with a scoff before playfully shoving at him. “Teach me how to cook.” You demanded, swiftfully changing the subject. 

Simon observed you for a moment, caught off guard by your sudden demand. “You want to learn how to cook?” 

A sly smirk tugged at the corner of his lips, his hand dropped from the back of your head as you nodded. That was all the convincing he needed. He leaned down and scooped you up from the couch, earning a surprised squeal from you as he tossed you over his shoulder, anchoring your weight by the back of your knees while he sauntered toward the kitchen. 

“I’m not sure what inspired this change, bird. But I must say, I’m quite a fan,’’ he mused before setting you back down on your feet. 

He waited until you were comfortably situated on your usual stool at the breakfast bar, giving you a direct view of everything he’d be doing to prep and cook. 

He swiftly moved around the kitchen, collecting an array of ingredients from the fridge and pantry. “We’re starting off easy with some stir-fry,” he said, stepping towards the sink to wash his hands, along with the vegetables. Fresh green onion, carrots, and shallots. 

Simon proved to be an incredible teacher, making each step easy to comprehend, which gave you the confidence to step in and help. 

“We need music,” you thought aloud, stirring the pot of rice noodles. 

“Hmm.. I’m no jukebox, but I might be able to rattle off a tune,” Simon joked, grinning at you as he skillfully chopped the veggies. 

“You’re just too good to be true… can’t take my eyes off of you..” he began, his deep baritone carrying the melody surprisingly well. 

“You’d be like heaven to touch… I wanna hold you so much,” you continued on, grinning like a fool as your cheeks warmed again, feeling your heart flutter in your chest as he continued the first verse of Frankie Valli’s Can’t Take My Eyes off You. 

“I love you, baby… and if it’s quite alright… I need you, baby… to warm a lonely night…” you continued, fighting back a barrage of giggles with every lyric as Simon progressively got more into it, belting out the lyrics. 

His energy was infectious, causing your cheeks to hurt from smiling, and your sides sore from laughing so much as he sauntered over to you with a mischievous grin. He wrapped you up in his arms, dancing with you as he sang and twirled you around. 

You couldn’t even recall a time where you had felt so carefree and bursting at the seams with genuine joy. With your head swirling and your heart full, it was then that you realized this is what it is to have someone care for you. Someone who stuck by you in your lows, and stayed to help guide you through rough waters, and ease you to a gradual high. A high you wouldn’t crash from, but would only step from. 

This entire feeling was so drastic from what you’d been feeling only days ago. And unlike the highs you’d received from cocaine, this high didn’t feel fleeting… it felt as if it was truly going to last. 

And you wanted it to. You had hope it would. 

Simon had managed to fill you so full of hope, for yourself, for your future, and for a life that actually seemed attainable. 

As Simon carried out the final notes, he dipped you down, supporting your weight in his strong frame. His lips split in a wide grin, his eyes flickered between yours and your lips, causing your breath to catch in your throat. 

Without a moment’s hesitation, he closed the gap between you two, pressing his lips firmly against yours. 

You met him in the kiss, allowing your eyes to fall shut as he cradled the side of your face in his large palm, gently holding you, but leaving room for you to pull away should you not want this. But you did. You wanted this with every fiber of your being. You wanted his existence to consume you and for him to devour you whole, until there was nothing left. 

Simon deepened the kiss, swiping his tongue over your bottom lip until they parted, easily granting his tongue access to explore the cavern of your mouth. A quiet moan escaped you as your tongues tangled together, tasting each other as he righted your frame with ease, cupping the back of your head to keep your lips sealed together. It was a dizzying kiss, one that stole the breath straight from your lungs, and had a scorching heat building below the surface of your skin. His free hand drifted to the small of your back, resting there firmly as he pulled your body in close against him, trying to drown himself in all of you. In the feeling of your lips on his, your soft body pressed flush against his, and the taste of your tongue on his, along with the faint smell of your scent lingering just on the surface of your skin. 

He pulled away panting, pressing your foreheads together as his nose brushed against yours.

“Let me take care of you, bird.” He whispered gruffly.

“Okay.” 

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[yuhi-san]

Alright for trigun fanfiction appreciation week by @trigunfanfic I made a small fic record, though I might add more

In the meadow by @eomma-jpeg

Rating M

Tags: Milly has a Savior Complex, No Smut, Slow Burn, farm life, Knives Redemption, Hints at Vashmeryl, but I have other plans for them, POV Multiple, Post-Canon, Post-AnimeTrimax influences, Character Study, Panic Attacks, Social Anxiety, Mutual Pining, References to both Millywood and Vashwood

ngl I just opened it because I was starved for ‘post series knives needs to learn how to live with people’ content. I thought Millyknives was just a case of pairing the ‘leftovers’ but I figured the rest might bee good.

It is so, so good and also, not a case of pairing the leftovers (if you think you don’t care for millyknives, this story will probably convert you lol).

Its 98 trigun with some trimax and stampede elements (Roberto!!). its sweet, its funny, they have ups and downs and without wanting to spoil anything, I love how it does explore that a lot of knives hate for humans stems from fear.

All the original character are great, everyone gets their time to shine, vashmeryl are so cute and silly

Sinking sand by @rainflamestudio

Rating T

Tags: Angst with a Happy Ending, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Medical Trauma, Found Family, Whump, Smoking, because Wolfwood is here, Trust Issues, Friendship, Mixed Canon, Alien Biology, Nick's dying but he walks it off, dadberto, Nick learns he has friends, Panic Attacks, Sensory Overload

We all love some hurt comfort for vash but this time its wolfwoods turn! he’ is not having a good time but cant ask for help either. Not that this is topping vash, meryl and Roberto from coming to his rescue and staying by his side no matter what.

Hot water by OpticalCrown

Rating G

Tags:   Eating Disorder Not Otherwise Specified, Chronic Pain, Character Analysis, Light Angst

A short story about sleeping arrangements, the things vash so desperately wants to hide but Roberto and Wolfwood notice anyway

 

New growth by @puffinpastry

Ongoing

Rating T

Tags: Alternate Universe - Post-Canon, Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Millions Knives-centric (Trigun), Depression, Implied Mpreg, Mostly trimax with some tristamp for seasoning, Trans Vash the Stampede (Trigun), Trans Millions Knives (Trigun), Millions Knives domestication arc, Brief suicidal ideation, Knives gets to heal but hes got to confront his past first, Angst with a Happy Ending, past trans male pregnancy, Knives doesn't know how to interact with kids, Silly but its buried under all their issues, Hey knives what if you were confronted with the forgiveness of a small child?

Still ongoing but very good knives has to learn to live with people, specifically vash. its very well written, I love knives in this and the struggle he and vash both have, especially because vash cant just move ast what had happened, even though he kinda wishes he cold. cute kids, also bless wolfwood

The heaviness we’ve known  by @cosmictapestry

 Rating T

Tags: Heart-to-Heart, Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hurt Vash the Stampede (Trigun), Vash the Stampede has Prosthetic Legs (Trigun), Caretaking, past Abuse, Past Child Abuse, Past Violence, Vash the Stampede's Scars (Trigun), Body Modification, Father-Son Relationship, Non-Sexual Intimacy, Episode Tag, Parent-Child Relationship, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Unresolved Tension, Eating Disorder Not Otherwise Specified, Vash the Stampede Needs a Hug (Trigun)

Look, I love trisamp brad and his relationship to vash. he didn’t do right from the start but he cares so much and this one is just, oof. Goes deeper in the lost tech that keeps vash together and the pain he has from it and how little brad and others sometimes can do. Set after episode 9.

Ricochet by @heffawhump

Rating G

Tags: Hurt/Comfort, Whump, Sick Character, Poisoning, Caretaking, Hidden Injury, BAMF!Meryl Stryfe, dad!berto, Fluff

Classic hurt comfort and sick character. Very well written, absolutely in love with the gang ready to kick anyones ass that wants vash harm. get them, meryl

Never understood a word by @aboxthecolourofheartache

Rating T

Tags: Road Trips, Introspection, Character Study, Developing Friendships, Trust Issues, Trust, Loneliness, Treasure Hunting, Brotherly Angst, Dysfunctional Family, POV Alternating, Developing Relationship, Emotional Manipulation, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, the inherent vulnerability of bringing someone to a favorite location, the inherent sanctity of natural places, eccentricity as plot device, Vulnerability, several instances of blink and you miss it Trimax-flavored Plant lore, Singing

Absolutely amazing story and character study about vash from the view of Roberto, meryl and Wolfwood. Love how it shows that there is so much rage and other emotions bubbling under vashs cheerful attitude because knives tormenting him one way or another is not so easily brusched of. But my favorite part might be that it also shows vashs silly and clumsy persona isn’t all fake either, rather it is an exaggeration of genuine traits he has. Also some really great Roberto rep!

Like Eden by @revenantpoet / @revenantghost

Also known as untitled E fic lol

Tags: Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Grief/Mourning, narrative poetry, Frottage, Vash the Stampede Has Plant-Like Genitalia (Trigun), Sexual Inexperience, First Time, They're so in love and they're stupid about it, Written as Vash being demi and Wolfwood being grey but, All I know is Vash is Wolfwood, sexual and Wolfwood is Vashsexual ok, Emotional Sex, Trauma, the usual Guilt, This was supposed to be a quick pwpIt is not, Canon Compliant

Look, I’m not usually one for poetry stile and it never occurred to me before to give it a try. It’s worth getting over the hang up though. It ready very nicely, like following Vash’s thoughts which fits soo well for the situation. Also we need more fics where they get some time after the sandsteamer disaster. And especially of vash getting the chance to show ww the geodome and for him to have a chance to be actually comforted after what happened to livio. It’s a really sweet one, though of course Wolfwood and vash cant make things too easy on themselves… communication is hard isn’t it boys

sorry if this looks all so messy, i have no idea how people have the nerve and patience to put thing togetehr nicely. I might do another list later in the week because there are so many lol

maybe a seperate E list, too (Like eden gets to be here because in my opinion it isn't really that much about the smut and its smal compared to everything else going on.)

[destieltropecollection]

DESTIEL TROPE COLLECTION 2023 | DAY 10 | Canon Divergent

Sleepy Angel Kisses | Destielshipper4Cas (AO3)

Rating: Teen & Up Word Count: 1,255 Main Tags/Warnings: Canon Universe, First Kiss, Sharing a Bed, Affectionate Dean, Falling angel Castiel, Crack Treated Seriously, Prankster Dean, Fluff and Crack Summary: Cas keeps falling asleep when low on grace. Dean takes advantage of that. Just some harmless pranks… right?

An Account of Consequences | @moustiel

Rating: General Word Count: 1,530 Main Tags/Warnings: Angst, post season 12 finale, spn rewrite, canon divergence, whump, heavy corpse description Summary: Castiel is the once and former God. There are consequences for trying to be The Most High. Isaiah 14:16-14:20

No Peace Held In Death | @aaronthe8thdemon

Rating: Mature Word Count: 2,265 Main Tags/Warnings: Episode: s07e04 Defending Your Life, Angst, Sad Dean Winchester, Sad Castiel (Supernatural), canon compliant? more like canon complaint Summary: Sammy’s out doing his Sam-thing, trying to take down Osiris with Bobby on the other end of the phone. Dean’s hanging out in their motel room, waiting. He fucking hopes it’s Jo. Which means it’s gonna be Cas.

a corruption cleared | @demonmary

Rating: Mature Word Count: 2,774 Main Tags/Warnings: Demon Cure, Demon Dean Winchester, Demon True Forms, Angelic Grace, Blood Drinking, Canon-Typical Violence, Angst Summary: When Castiel had healed him in the past, it was from the outside in. HIs hands would come to rest on Dean’s injured flesh, his grace would pulse through them like electricity, and the connection would stop when Cas pulled away. But this - this was more pure. This wasn’t Castiel’s touch, this was Castiel. This was Castiel, healing him from the inside out. _____ demon cure but make it horny grace drinking.

thank god for bruce campbell's abs | @watchinghimrakeleaves

Rating: Teen & Up Word Count: 3,408 Main Tags/Warnings: canon divergent, season 9, human castiel in the bunker, Summary: Dean decides to expose Cas to horror movies. In the process, he learns some startling things about his best friend.

I need to say something | @destiel-wings

Rating: Teen & Up Word Count: 4,861 Main Tags/Warnings: Episode: s15e09 The Trap, Castiel/Dean Winchester in Purgatory, Love confessions, Angst, Romance, POV Castiel, Dean Winchester uses actual words, Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Summary: What if Dean had confessed in Purgatory, after his prayer? When Dean said "Cas, I need to say something," Castiel stopped him. But what if he hadn't?

Murder the World | @thisisapaige

Rating: Explicit Word Count: 10,162 Main Tags/Warnings: Angst, Canon Divergent after s10e22 The Prisoner, Demon Dean Winchester, the Castiel and Colette parallel, Switch Castiel/Switch Dean Winchester, Hopeful Ending, Porn With Plot Summary: Castiel said he would be the one to watch Dean murder the world. Now he has a chance to prove it.

This Isn't Where We Intended To Be | @porcupine-girl

Rating: Explicit Word Count: 14,094 Main Tags/Warnings: Castiel in the Bunker, Human Castiel, Fallen Castiel, Post-Episode: s10e14 The Executioner's Song, Pining Castiel, First Kiss, First Time, Bunker Fic, Light Masochism, Meddling Sam, Emotionally Repressed Dean, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Light Bondage Summary: This time, he wakes up to the aftermath: Metatron and Crowley both dead. Dean lying nearby, unconscious and a bit bloody but free of the Mark. Sam mother hen-ing back and forth between them, trying to make sure they're both alive, assessing them for injuries, shifting them into the recovery position. He is hungry, cold, and weak. But he is not alone, and that makes all the difference in the world. Fallen, Castiel struggles to figure out where he fits in the human world—and in Dean's life.

The Parts You Keep Hidden | @skybird87

Rating: Mature Word Count: 16,035 Main Tags/Warnings: Episode: s14e10 Nihilism, Homophobic Language, Internalized Homophobia, Bad Parent John Winchester, Dean Winchester is Loved, Angst with a Happy Ending Summary: In an attempt to free Dean from Michael, Cas and Sam journey deep into Dean's mind. Unfortunately, they find themselves stuck in an endless void of darkness, with only Dean's worst memories to guide their way.

Everything I Possess | @krexhatespushups-blog

Rating: Explicit Word Count: 19,023 Main Tags/Warnings: Archive Warning: Major Character Death Tags: Canon-Divergent AU, Pre-season one Canon divergent, Mentions of drug use and addiction, consequences of drug use, child neglect/child abuse, emotional manipulation, child abandonment, Mentions of PTSD, John Winchesters A+ Parenting, drug use by a minor, Dean/Cas established relationship, Blow jobs, car sex, public sex, references to physical abuse, praise kink, Temporary Death, VERY TEMPORARY MCD, grieving, dealing with grief, hunters funeral, non-con branding, non-con body modification, misuse of angelic grace as lube Summary: Dean had been fighting all kinds of supernatural beings from the time he could hold a gun, but he never expected angels to be real, So when he met Rhonda Hurley at nineteen in a tiny town in Colorado, the last thing he expected was that her sister had been miraculously saved by an angel. Nineteen years later, Dean and Cas are searching for God and their paths cross with a familiar angel who knows about Rhonda and reveals a secret - a pink satin-y panty shaped secret - that Dean has been hiding.

Mr&Mr Smith (WIP) | @malicmalic

Rating: Explicit Word Count: 55,512 Main Tags/Warnings: Cannon divergent, established relationship, angst, miscommunication, hurt, apocalypse is upon us, anal sex, oral sex, smut, loads of plot, happy ending. Summary: Castiel and Dean Smith are a regular married couple, living in a little suburban town and working ordinary, uninteresting jobs. However, each of them is concealing a secret: Castiel was once a mighty seraph, an angel of the Lord who decided to fall for human kind and walk among them as their equal. Dean on the other hand is a retired hunter of the supernatural, trying to let go of his past and find a better life after having ended the demon who killed his mother. When a nice, blond, cookie-selling girl scout knocks on their door and unleashes the entire hell on them, the life shattering secrets can no longer stay hidden. Exposed to each other’s worlds, Cas and Dean have to fight to save it from the appending apocalypse, but the insecurities and miscommunication might lead them to lose one another in the process.

I Will Be Your Message From God | @aaronthe8thdemon

Rating: Mature Word Count: 32,415 Main Tags/Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Episode: s08e17 Goodbye Stranger - The Crypt Scene, Winged Castiel (Supernatural), John Winchester's A+ Parenting, Angst and Feels, Non-Linear Narrative, Castiel-centric (Supernatural), Episode: s01e12 Faith, Episode: s02e13 Houses of the Holy, Episode: s04e16 On the Head of a Pin, Episode: s06e20 The Man Who Would Be King, Time Travel Summary: When Castiel touches the Angel Tablet and it frees him from Naomi's clutches at last, the only thing in his field of vision - both literally and psychologically - is Dean Winchester. He realizes none of this should've been necessary at all. And now, with Naomi chasing him in search of the Tablet, Castiel can only draw one conclusion. He must undo all of this, everything he's done wrong, on Dean's behalf. But his pitfalls are still there. He'll relentlessly pursue his goal at whatever cost, and left to face his own arrogance comes to understand that in reality he has no way to proceed. In addition to Naomi something else seems to be hunting him, something much more powerful and dangerous. And so Castiel can only land briefly before fleeing again, over and over, making an even bigger mess while trying to construct a solution to his past mistakes.

The Resting Place | @5x04dean

Rating: Explicit Word Count: 49,481 Main Tags/Warnings: Temporary Minor Character Death, Body Horror, Graphic Depictions of Violence, Horror, Pet Sematary AU Summary: When Sam, Dean, and Castiel head out to investigate a case, they assume nothing is out of the ordinary. But as Dean and Castiel continue to dance around one another's affections, they find that the small town holds deadly secrets—secrets that are far more sinister than any of them would have ever believed. Written for the 2021 DeanCas BigBang.

A Midwinter's Dream | @li-izumi

Rating: Mature Word Count: 53,245 Main Tags/Warnings: Canon Divergence Season/Series 09, Season/Series 10, Canon-Typical Violence, Post-Mark of Cain (Supernatural), Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Dean Winchester works through his trauma, Minor Rowena MacLeod/Sam Winchester, Kevin Tran Lives (Supernatural), Charlie Bradbury Lives, Dreams and Nightmares, Christmas, Angst with a Happy Ending, Advent Calendar Challenge Summary: Christmas is fast approaching, but Dean doesn’t feel like celebrating--he’s too busy hunting for that sort of thing. Though he promises to get Cas back in time for the epic Christmas party Sam’s been planning, Dean has no intention of staying himself. That may be another promise Dean can’t keep when the hunt goes wrong, trapping Dean and Cas far from civilization. Worse, Dean is plagued by unrelenting nightmares of his time with the Mark of Cain and is gripped by a lingering anger that he can’t seem to escape. Back at the Bunker, Sam and the others are working a little Christmas magic they hope will show Dean the light in the dark—and prove to him that the holiday spirit isn’t something he needs to hunt.

When Tomorrow Comes | @trenchcoatparadigm

Rating: Explicit Word Count: 78,994 Main Tags/Warnings: Fix-It, Season 15 rewrite, Canon-Typical Violence, Hurt/Comfort, Mutual Pining, Angst, Family Loss, First Time, Love Confessions, Dean Winchester Saves Castiel from the Empty, Castiel's Loss of Angelic Grace, First Kiss, Happy Ending Summary: When hunting for the Leviathan blossom, Castiel gets taken. Tired, desperate and wanting to tell him all the things left unsaid before it’s too late, Dean prays to him. But he realises... standing there, in the grey hellish landscape, the portal home flickering just beside them with seconds left on the timer, they already were too late. Running himself ragged fuelled solely by caffeine, whisky, and that trademark Winchester determination, he will find a way to stop Chuck and to save Cas. However, this isn't the blaze of glory Dean had always envisioned going out in. But, deep down, he would go out swinging to save a loved one. Those bright shining penetrating tear-soaked eyes are the last thing he sees before his vision is marred, the desperate plea of his name dampened by the black ooze filling his eardrums as the essence of the Empty wraps around him and pulls him pulled from existence into the dark. All because of that simple prayer, the ending Chuck had always planned was rewritten. With a fallen angel purged of happiness, a brother in mourning and a Nephilim-shaped timebomb the only ones left to Carry On on this desolate planet… What happens when tomorrow comes?

Do You Know What That's Worth? | @norahastuff

Rating: Mature Word Count: 92,212 Main Tags/Warnings: Cas POV, Canon divergent from 9x06, Cas is pretty damn competent, Slow Burn, brief non-explicit Cas/OFC, brief non-explicit Cas/OMC Summary: After Dean leaves him at the Gas N' Sip in Rexford, Castiel realises that he needs to get back in the game. However, that's easier said than done, and instead he finds himself working in a Target-style superstore in Boulder as he tries to figure out his new human life. He makes friends, starts hunting, even has a couple of hook-ups, but when Dean unexpectedly returns, Castiel has to re-evaluate where Dean fits in to this new life he has built for himself, and what it is they need from each other. And while Castiel may have had his grace stripped from him, he still possesses certain angelic sensibilities that may be the key to fixing some of the damage Metatron has wrought. With some creativity, teamwork, and a dash of hope, maybe he can discover just how much he's really capable of. (An alternate season 9 from Cas' POV.)

Eighteen (I've Got to Get Away) | @motherofdragonflies

Rating: Explicit Word Count: 122,569 Main Tags/Warnings: Major Character Death, Series typical violence, pre-canon, abusive John Winchester, young Dean Winchester, Season One Re-Write, Season Two Re-Write Summary: "Dad always said that family was important. They didn’t have a lot of family, the Winchester men, so they had to stick together. That was part of the rules Dean lived his life by: shoot first, ask questions later. Watch out for Sammy. Winchesters had to stick together. But what about when the rules contradicted each other? Which rule was more important: family sticking together or watching out for Sam?" When Dean turns eighteen, he’s forced to make a decision that will change the course of Sam and Dean’s life.

an empty house is not a home | @hawkland

Rating: Explicit Word Count: 143,247 Main Tags/Warnings: alternative season 13, alternative season 14, time traveling Castiel, switching Dean/Cas, Godstiel Summary: Jack’s grace is gone, and so is Dean—lost to the Michael of the Apocalypse World, and Cas despairs there may be no way to get him back. Not with his limited powers and only Sam and the other hunters to help avert this next apocalypse. Cas can think of only one being who might be powerful enough to stop Michael. But to summon him means a trip back in time to recruit none other than himself, from when he believed he could become the new God. And if called into the future, how will “Godstiel” react to what Cas has become and the existence of Jack…and will he agree to eventually going back? This story reimagines the events from Jack’s birth up through Dean’s possession by Michael with one major change: What if Dean had expressed his true feelings as soon as Cas returned from the Empty? How might their bond, strengthened by love and a more open understanding of each other, have changed the course of all that followed?

[wangxianficfinder]

Curses, Potions, and Spells (Oh my)

~*~

Curses

shape me something new by perilously (E, 24k, WangXian, Sharing a Body, set in CQL canon but inspired by the novel, Non-Penetrative Sex, Masturbation, (kind of), Slight Canon Divergence, some horror-adjacent imagery)

come home to my heart by occultings (microcomets) (M, 29k, WangXian, Bodyswap, Mutual Pining, Slow Burn, Canon Divergence, First Time, Getting Together, Confessions, Sharing a Bed, Misunderstandings, and a little bit of hurt/comfort as a treat)

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

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

You'd Break Your Heart to Make It Bigger by vesna (mrsronweasley) (E, 32k, WangXian, soulbonding, First Time, Case Fic if You Squint, Fools in Love, soul boning, soft fools in love, Pining while fucking)

This Lantern Shines For You by apollonie (M, 10k, WangXian, Hanahaki Disease, Angst with a Happy Ending, Post-Canon, Pining WWX, WWX Needs a Hug, LWJ is a Disaster Gay)

leading tone by silencemostofall (G, 32k, WangXian, Modern AU, Soulmates, with a lil twist, Eventual Happy Ending, lesbian wq rights, Music, Orchestra, platonic and romantic pining)

pastel by antebunny (G, 6k, WangXian, Modern AU, College/University, Soulmates, Heavy Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Found Family, Self-Esteem Issues, Misunderstandings, Angst with a Happy Ending, Unrequited Love, but not actually, no courtesy names)

Stainless by Fahye (E, 6k, WangXian, Sex Pollen, Yuletide Treat)

as amber of ember glows by occultings (microcomets) (E, 11k, WangXian, Sex Pollen, Marathon Sex, Multiple Orgasms, Mutual Pining, First Time, Miscommunication, Aphrodisiacs, pining for the person you're fucking, Getting Together, mostly)

miss me once the thrill expires by idrilka (E, 12k, WangXian, Modern With Cultivation, Getting Together, Pining while fucking, Curses, Sex Pollen, Rimming, Multiple Orgasms, first time barebacking, Face-Fucking)

Say So by FeelsForBreakfast (E, 15k, WangXian, Sex Pollen, Fucking Your Best Friend, Light Dom/sub, extreme orgasm denial wanxgian edition, Dirty Talk, Love Confessions)

🔒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)

a safe pair of hands by occultings (microcomets) (E, 11k, WangXian, Mutual Pining, Hurt/Comfort, Whump, Body Worship, Post-Canon, Case Fic, Sharing a Bed, Getting Together, First Time, Curses, Intimacy, Touch-Starved, Touch-Starved LWJ)

So Why Not Crack Your Skull When the Mind Swells by greenteafiend (E, 13k, WangXian, Hurt/Comfort, Curses, Case Fic, Mutual Pining, Getting Together, Confessions, Drunkenness)

❤️ to arrive late is better than not to arrive at all by Moominmammashandbag (M, 35k, wangxian, angst w/ happy ending, soulmates, chronic illness, hanahaki disease as a curse, feelings realization, angst, fluff, smut)

🔒How to Seduce the Yiling Patriarch by Theladyofravenclaw (T, 8k, wangxian, post-canon, temporary amnesia, case fic, fluff & humor, crack treated seriously, angst, jealous WWX, YLLZ WWX, gusu lan junior dynamics, mild gore)

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, wwx is a menace to society, and lwj Suffers A Lot, Canon Compliant)

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)

in the shadow of moonlit flowers by Reverie (cl410) (T, 56k, wangxian, LXC/NMJ, cloud recesses, NHS & LWJ friendship, developing relationship, LWJ pov, minor injuries, autistic LWJ, implied/referenced child abuse, aka YZY warning, genius WWX, light angst, hurt/comfort, WWX protection squad)

Of Curses and Cottontails by Alliandra (T, 15k, wangxian, canon divergence, burial mounds settlement days, curses, animal transformation, rabbit LWJ, angry bunji, fluff & humor, fix-it, golden core reveal)

🧡 Discarded by teawater (E, 169k, WIP, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Dying Lan children, Hurt/Comfort, YL WWX, Golden Core Reveal, Case Fic, Depression, Family Issues, Self-Esteem Issues, Self Confidence Issues, Self-Worth Issues, Angst with a Happy Ending, and it's not always dark, POV Multiple, BAMF WWX, dubious morals in the Lan sect Feels, Pining, Grief, Fix-It, BAMF LWJ)

Under every sky, in every way by naqaashi (M, 13k, wangxian, curses, curse breaking, mermaids, fix-it of sorts, angst w/ happy ending, fluff, secrets, confessions, hurt/comfort, golden core transfer fix-it, genius WWX)

Lover's Curse by littlesystems (E, 15k, WangXian, Fuck Or Die, Dubcon implicit in fuck or die, Burial Mounds Settlement Days, Cultivation Sect Politics, Brotherly Meddling, WWX Has a Rape/Non-Con Kink, Bruising, Overstimulation)

The Heart Always Remembers by thelamespaceace (G, 45k, WangXian, Post-Canon, Deaged LSZ, Hurt/Comfort, Family Feels, Fluff, Angst)

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

A Curse of a Different Color by nickel710 (G, 35k, WangXian, XiChengQing, Modern with Magic, Modern Cultivation, Curses, Curse Breaking, Asexual polyamory, Repressed LWJ, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Drunk LWJ, Falling In Love, WWX Being an Idiot, Non-explicit vomit, just a tiny reference to it, Anxiety)

🔒 the cow says moo, the chicken says squawk, and the demon beast of yiling says by Dragonskye (T, 57k, wangxian, Ensemble Cast, Animal Transformation, Angst with a Happy Ending, kind of a glucose guardian vibe actually, Fairy Tale Elements, Beauty and the Beast Fusion, Falling In Love, Hurt/Comfort, they're soft, Secret Identity, Canon Divergence, Mutual Pining)

The Sun Will Rise series by vespertineflora (E, 129k, wangxian, Fantasy, Fairy Tale Elements, Human/Monster Romance, Tentacle Monsters, Plant Monsters, Tentacle Sex, vine sex, Vines, Monster LWJ, Human WWX, Mildly Dubious Consent, Consensual Non-Consent, Eventual Romance, Slow Romance, Happy Ending, Groping, Edgeplay, Hand Jobs, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Prostate Massage, First Time, Multiple Orgasms, The Cloud Recesses Rabbits, WWX Has a Fear of Dogs, Homesickness, Angst, Comfort/Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Loneliness, Canon-Typical Violence, WWX Has a Rape/Non-Con Kink, Light Bondage, Light Masochism, Overstimulation, BAMF WWX, Stabbing, Near Death, Poisoning, Protective LWJ, Seduction, Aphrodisiacs, Snow and Ice, ,Snowball Fight, Lost Love, Falling In Love, Drunken Kissing, Sex Pollen, Submission, Subspace, Multiple Penetration, Love Confessions, full body restraint, Emotional Sex, Reincarnation, Sounding, Urethral Play, Prostate Massage, Multiple Orgasms, Shameless Smut)

🧡 Kitty-cat by canis_lupus (E, 78k, WIP, WangXian, Modern with Magic, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Top LWJ/Bottom WWX, dom LWJ, Sub WWX, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Jiang Family Dynamics, Abusive Jiang Family, POV Multiple, WWX Has ADHD, Autistic LWJ, Masturbation)

Breaking the Silence by Leffy (E, 4k, WangXian, Post-Canon, Fluff and Humor, Smut, 69 (Sex Position), Blow Jobs, Rimming, Come as Lube, temporary mute wwx is still a gremlin)

~*~

Potions (includes poisons)

Losing My Mind by pupeez4eva (T, 6k, wangxian, JC & WWX, Humor, Protective JC, JC drinks a potion that lets him hear people's lustful thoughts, Teenage LWJ has a lot of feelings, Canon Divergence, Cloud Recesses study arc)

🔒Truths Laid Bare For All by Preludian_Staves (T, 42k, wangxian, arranged marriage, not Jiang friendly, truth serum, love confessions, golden core reveal, implied referenced abuse, getting to know each other, genius WWX, falling in love, courting, WIP)

pomegranates for the softest parts of you by AvoOwO (M, 24k, WangXian, Cloud Recesses Study Arc, Cloud Recesses Shenanigans, Fluff and Angst, LWJ Has a Crush, POV LWJ, Protective LWJ, Pining LWJ, LWJ Has Feelings, Courting Rituals, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Poisoning, Dorks in Love, Love Confessions, First Kiss, Mind Manipulation, Manipulation, JC and LWJ Dislike Each Other, Good Sibling JC, Angst and Feels, Emotional Hurt, Supportive LXC, Supportive Sibling LXC, Good Uncle LQR, LQR Metaphorically Qì-Deviates, Mentioned Madam Lán, Blood, Fainting, Soft WangXian, Cute WangXian, Dubious Consent, Feelings Realization)

Truth to Tell by SequoiaSempervirens (M, 3k, WangXian, Getting Together, First Kiss, Fluff, silliness, Truth Serum, Kidnapping, Worried LWJ, Protective LWJ)

🔒After Truth Lies the Honest Path by Vrishchika (M, 10k, WIP, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Truth Serum, Angry WWX, Post-Sunshot Campaign, Mild Angst, WangXian Get a Happy Ending, Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Getting Together)

Potion by UglyBeautiful (E, 12k, WangXian, Modern AU, Canon Divergence, College/University, Witchcraft, Love Potion/Spell, Idiots in Love, LWJ Has a Big Dick, LWJ has a very dirty mind, Anal Sex, Rimming, Compulsory Heterosexuality, licking vegan marshmallow paste off a naked body, Happy Ending, Scheming NHS, Ghost familiar with many guises NHS)

Love potion and a remedy for the heart. by satans_dolly_boy666 (G, 2k, XiXian, WangXian, Love Potion/Spell, Misunderstandings, Internalized Homophobia, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Brotherly Love, Love Confessions, Falling In Love, Idiots in Love, Friendship/Love, Declarations Of Love, Unrequited Love, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Jealous LWJ, Protective LXC, Oblivious WWX, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Supportive Sibling LXC, Soft LXC, Denial of Feelings, Feelings Realization, Ambiguous/Open Ending, Eventual WangXian, Cloud Recesses Study Arc, Crack, Attempt at Humor)

scope and limitations by mercurials (T, 7k, WangXian, Modern AU, College/University, chemistry major wwx, Love Potion/Spell, Fluff, Mutual Pining)

At the bottom of the bottle, you're the poison in the wine by KatAnni (T, 11k, wangxian, JC & WWX & JYL, WWX & WQ, Fainting, Angst, Poisoning, JZN is an asshole, Golden Core Reveal, Fix-It, a little poisoning will solve all your problems!, Hurt/Comfort, POV Multiple, Attempted Murder, Everyone Lives AU, Fix-It of Sorts, Canon Divergence)

~*~

Spells (includes talismans/arrays)

The Way It Wasn't by KouriArashi (T, 72k, WangXian, XiYao, Canon Divergence, Angst with a Happy Ending, Fix-It, (eventually haha), Slow Build, Family Feels, Moral Ambiguity, Eventual Happy Ending)

Wearing Down Every Bone by CSHfic, VSfic (E, 30k, WangXian, Groundhog Day, Time Loop, Temporary Character Death, Hurt/Comfort, Post-Canon, Case Fic, Curses, Pining, Getting Together, Time Travel, Night Hunts, Hurt wwx, Mystery, Angst with a Happy Ending, Use Your Words, Mutual Pining, Depression and Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, gratuitous use of empathy)

hope dangling by a string by KouriArashi (M, 70k, wangxian, canon divergence, fix-it, everyone lives, angst w happy ending, hurt/comfort, psychic bond, telepathy, communication, emotional/psychological abuse, jiang family feels, lan family feels, canon-typical violence, canon-typical politics, improper use of sacred forehead ribbons, gratuitous hair washing)

🔒I am sorry for taking your voice by misterfish (G, 8k, WIP, WWX/OMC, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Hurt WWX, Remorse LWJ, Mute WWX, Jiāng Family Bashing, Past Child Abuse)

Couldn't Scream Couldn't Shout by mermorgie (T, 42k, WIP, WangXian, Not for jc stans, Muteness, Sign Language, references to selective mutism, Homophobic JC, canon jc characteristics, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Anxiety Attacks, Pining, LWJ is a Panicked Gay, Supportive Sibling LXC, JZX Tries, LQR Tries, Protective JZX, Scheming NHS, Bisexual JZX, LWJ is Bad at Communicating, WWX Has ADHD, Autistic LWJ, WWX Has a Fear of Dogs, Jiāng Family Bashing)

Quartet series by WithBroomBefore (T, 69k wangxian, JZX & JC & WWX & LWJ, Canon Divergence, Friends to Lovers, First Kiss, WWX's canonical comfort with the prospect of his own death, Hurt/Comfort, JZX makes friends, Eventual Happy Ending, some unhappiness along the way, Canon-Typical Violence, JC keeps his golden core, JYL Lives, WQ Lives, Minor Character Death, Kissing, WWX Lives, no golden core transfer, JZX Lives, Fix-It, WN Lives, Weeping, temporary major character death, Murder Road Trip, Implied Sexual Content, Sunshot Campaign, Nonbinary NHS, Telepathy, platonic group soulbonding, Family, Found Family, POV WWX, Podfic Available, Siblings Sworn Brothers, aroace JZX, Happy Ending, all the Wen remnants live, POV JZX, JGY is less murdery, Asexual Character, Aromantic Character, JZX's social awkwardness, Poison)

on his best bee-haviour (pun very much intended) by HeavenlySkyfarer (T, 4k, WangXian, LQR & WWX, Modern With Cultivation, Humor, Fluff, Good Uncle LQR, Gremlin WWX, Bees, Established WangXian)

all the broken things that I made by ilip13 (E, 43k, WangXian, Post-Canon, Established Relationship, Angst with a Happy Ending, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Lovers To Enemies, (then back to lovers I'm not a monster), Dubcon Kissing, Dubious Consent, But mostly not in the way you might expect - see notes for details, Explicit Sexual Content, Bondage, Flirting, Competence Kink)

~*~

[littleslithewhump]

Day 18 – tickling

His body looks like a fucking pile of twigs. Just skeletal contours on the basement floor. He hasn’t moved since I set his shoulder. If it weren’t for the rise and fall of his chest, I might think the idiot had up and died on me. 

I nudge him with my toe. 

He wakes up, sluggish and dull. He makes his own eyelids look heavy. When he looks up at me, he barely seems to recognize what he’s seeing. 

“Come on, pet,” I tell him. “Sit up.”

He struggles to even do that, hissing in pain as he puts weight on his newly fixed shoulder. It’s funny. It’s pathetic. It makes me want to fuck him. It makes me want to crush his throat with my boot. 

I crouch beside him, grasping his swollen shoulder and shaking him lightly. He whines about it. 

“You’re so tired, aren’t you?”

He nods. 

“You know you’ve been bad, right? I give you a place to live, give you food, I even fucking wash you, and you try to run. You don’t remember who I am. You know I should keep punishing you, right?”

Tears leak out his eyes, and he swallows audibly. But he nods. I can hardly believe it. The self-obsessed prick broke down after only two weeks of harsh treatment. I knew it–I’d known all along he was weak. 

“Look at you. Begging me to hurt you.”  

A wet sob tears out his throat. 

He still has metal manacles jangling around his wrists and ankles. I pull at one experimentally, testing his give, his submission. To me. He’s light and mobile as dandelion fluff. 

“Pet. Know I’m kind to you. I’m as kind as I can be.” 

He bobs his head again, eyes crystalline with fresh tears. 

He doesn’t resist a bit as I scoop him up in my arms, carrying him up the stairs like my waifish betrothed. He’s shaking lightly, crying like a child, but I feel him cling to me. It’s almost sickeningly sweet. I want to tug on his hair and make him moan. I want to tear the fucker apart. 

When I lay him on the bed, his eyelashes flutter. 

“Soft, isn’t it, pet?” 

“M..mhm,” he murmurs. 

I pin his wrist into the cushion above his head, opening his body up to me. I trace my fingers up and down his ribs, thumb his hip bone. It makes him twitch, sensitive skin under my touch, covered in pretty bruises. 

He’s so fucking fragile. I squeeze the soft part of his waist, which makes him jolt. 

I tickle his armpits, along his ribs. He flinches and shudders, a confused giggle escaping him. 

I lay down beside him, kissing his face, rumpling his hair in my hand, tugging it gently. He squirms, trying to reciprocate, I know. But too weak to manage it. It’s an intimacy I haven’t allowed him before. 

“Thank me, pet,” I murmur to him. 

He swallows again. “Thank…thank you.” 

“Good boy.” 

It’s more fun than I’d thought it would be, so I keep tickling him. Scratching him lightly with my nails, finding his sensitive spots, finding what makes him wiggle, hearing him laugh. When he tries to pull away, I hold him close, slinging an arm around his waist, pulling him flush against me. 

I lick up the tears dribbling down his face, rubbing my fingers lightly on the sensitive inside of his thighs, making him open his legs for me, through a strained little giggle. 

After stripping myself, coating my fingers in lube to prevent me from chafing, I push my fingers inside him. I squeeze his waist, holding him against me, which makes him moan and shudder breathlessly. It’s gorgeous; pleasure wrinkling up his brow. I push my cock inside, rocking into him steadily. 

I hold his face in my hand, keeping his face tipped toward me, slapping gently when he tries to close his eyes. “Focus on me, sweetheart,” I whisper. 

He cries the whole time, yes–but he begs prettily, begs for his release, for my release. For me.

Taglist:

@whumped-by-glitter

[emberfrostlovesloki]

Now You're Everything [Hotch x Reader]

Photo credits: Left (@unheartbreakable) Center (@milla984) Right (@poseidonsarmoury)

Prompt: It’s been a long time coming and after an emotion-heavy year, Aaron finally shows the BAU-reader how much he wants them. 

Pairing: Aaron x fem!reader. The reader uses she/her pronouns. 

Category: fluff/comfort/minor whump. 

Word Count: 9.9K

Content Warnings: Light swearing and drinking, mention of kidnapping and torture [Hotch], Hospitals and IVs, Minor unwanted advances [reader]. If I missed any, please let me know. 

A/N: Hi, loves! Happy New Year's Eve! This is for my love @silk-spun. It is the second fic I’ve written based on my December Prompt List (linked) Dialog prompt #6: “Let’s skip the office party and go out on the town instead!” I changed the wording a bit, but this is basically all the times Aaron and the reader don’t have the right words to confess, and the one time they don’t need them to get their message across. There is one short mention of Aaron being tortured on a case, and I plan on turning that into a full fic soon. So look forward to that (?). I hope you have a great evening and stay safe. If you like this fic, likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated! Love Levi - ❤️

List wil all stories 

_y/n_ = your name 

_y/l/n_ = your last name 

_y/f/c_ = your favorite color 

_y/f/c/b_ = your favorite caffeinated beverage (i.e. coffee/tea/energy drinks)

_y/l/f/d_ = your least favorite designer 

_y/f/d_ = your favorite drink 

Aaron looked around the room which was shockingly full for it being 9:30 p.m. He scanned the groups of people clustered around tables and sitting in chairs talking. Some had plates of food, others glasses of alcohol or sparkling soda. The person whom the supervisory special agent was looking for wasn’t there. He wondered if she was using the lady's room. The last time he’d seen _y/n_ she was being cornered by Freddy from finance. Aaron hadn’t attempted to listen in on the conversation because it was mostly Fred talking to _y/n_. It seemed the pox-faced man wasn’t letting _y/n_ get a word in edge-wise. That sounded like a personal hell that he would avoid at all costs. He had to do enough wine-ing and small talk at the annual Winter Holiday party as it was. He’d talked to Strauss, the Director of the Pentagon, and all the other heads of teams that had made it to Quantico for the party. He’d heard about so many cases that they started to blend together, but for Aaron, nothing would top his team or the crimes they solved. Hotch listened to Bernard Shaw, head agent for the Tax Fraud department, as the white-haired man droned on about a new loophole for the Cayman Islands and how much of a pain it had been that year. Aaron looked over his team with a soft appreciation for how hard they all worked, how they had gelled to feel more like a family than just profilers doing a difficult, dangerous job. There was Derek, who could always be called on to help with anything. The built agent was talking to Spencer. The genius had been so young when he joined the team. Aaron had taken on a fatherly role with Spencer without even thinking about it. Before Jack had ever been born. Rossi had just taken Aaron’s place with Strauss, and they were talking about some half-shared hobby or new bureau policy. Both of those conversations looked the same. Hotch caught Dave’s eye and the older man gave a small shrug, indicating, “This is what the holiday party is for. Making nice one last time before we get a break.” Aaron gave a small nod of agreement before turning his attention back to Shaw. The man hadn’t noticed as Aaron’s attention had waned and then returned to him. Hotch cleared his throat and said, “I’m going to refresh my drink, but it was good to catch up, Bernard, and good luck in dealing with the fallout of S.B. 103b.” Bernard nodded, and the two men shook hands before Aaron walked back to the table with the alcohol on offer. As Hotch poured himself a glass of white. He guessed at how much the liquor alone for this party cost. His guess was around 2,000 dollars. The FBI didn’t ever recommend frivolous spending, but even they realized that sticking a hundred agents and department heads together required the good stuff. 

As Aaron sipped on the cool chablis, he swirled the liquid in his glass slightly. The rare sound of mirth at this dull and quiet frankly depressing party was coming from his team. It was Emily, JJ, Garcia, and _y/n_.” As he looked at _y/n_ in her semi-formal _y/f/c_ dress that was just long enough to be appropriate, Hotch assumed it was some cocktail dress _y/n_ had pulled from the back of a closet behind all of _y/n_ business formal and work attire. The black tights made the outfit work in a fashion way that Aaron didn’t have the right words for. He had to tear his eyes away because if he kept looking at _y/l/n_ much longer, the butterflies in his stomach would soon unfurl their wings and move into his ribcage in a way that he hadn’t felt in a long time. Aaron moved to Rossi, who was free now for support. Dave grounded him, which he needed right now. His feelings for _y/n_ had been coming to a head for months now and somehow, Aaron didn’t feel the bureau holiday party was the place for a confession. Even if _y/n_ was receptive to his advances, he worried. His role as her superior and the age gap had him wondering if they had enough in common to sustain a relationship. They’d grown up in different decades, and y/n_ seemed to have the youth and energy he lacked as he neared late middle age. The part of Aaron that longed for _y/n_ in unexplored ways knew that Hotch’s concerns were self-imposed. That _y/n_ had been sending him small signs of affection and care that didn’t even think he deserved. But Aaron’s fear was real and steeped in policy and power dynamics that would come with having a committed relationship with _y/n_. Hotch moved next to Rossi and asked his friend about his New Year's plan. If he was currently seeing anyone. The basic life and catching up questions that they rarely had time for during work. As Dave answered, Hotch’s eye kept flicking back to _y/n_, as she laughed at some comment of Penelope’s. Rossi noticed and stopped talking about himself. Instead, he said, “She’s not going to wait forever you know, Aaron. _y/n_’s a patient person, but I think she deserves to know how you feel about her.” This comment had Hotch flush and take a breath in. Aaron had tried very hard to keep any of his feelings for _y/n_ hidden beneath a cloak of professionalism and feigned disinterest in the team's personal life as a whole. After all, he was their boss foremost, but it was hard to tune out when the team spoke of their weekends. It was doubly so when it was _y/n_. He’d overhear her complaints about bad dates and rent, and how her dryer was broken in her unit. Hotch had wanted to offer to fix it himself but stopped himself before the words could slip from his mouth. He’d also heard her when she talked about the good things like a new cafe she had found, or getting tickets for a band she adored. If _y/n_ was talking and Aaron was around, he listened but tried to look very hard to not look like he was listening. He wondered if he had played into that a little too hard. Hotch looked at Rossi and asked, “Is it that obvious? And what if _y/n_ doesn’t feel the same way? Her feelings could just be due to proximity, or that I’m her boss or something.” Rossi scoffed and said, “You’re deflecting, Aaron. This isn’t Fifty Shades of Grey. A young woman is allowed to have feelings for a guy, who in my opinion is a pretty good catch.” Dave’s complement had Aaron scoff, but that didn’t stop Rossi from continuing. “Listen, Hotch. I knew you liked her and that she liked you ever since you were in the hospital after the case in Indianapolis. I think what happened in that hospital room told me that there was more than just a feeling of friendship between you and _y/n_. As for whether her feelings are the same way for you and you do for her, I can’t tell you. I’m no love expert. But you’re never going to know how she feels about you unless you ask. And I think you both deserve to know the answer, Hotch.” 

With those words of advice, Dave gave Aaron a pat on the arm and excused himself for the night. The older profiler had done the rounds with the higher-ups and was excited to head home, nurse a whiskey, and watch an episode of The Suprano’s. Aaron on the other hand still had about five people to speak to before he could excuse himself. The added discussion about _y/n_ wasn’t going to make small talk any easier. So, with wine still in hand, he steeled himself for another hour of conversation. Hotch had almost made it through the last of his people. He needed to “catch up with.” The room had cleared significantly since his talk with Rossi. Derek, Spencer, and Em had all left, waving or saying a quick goodbye to him as they exited. Garcia was talking to a tech friend of hers from the third floor, and JJ was speaking in hushed tones to Will. But _y/n_ was nowhere to be found. Hotch watched as Arnold, the last person he should talk to approached him. Aaron didn’t think he could take any more small talk, and because Arnold was in Legal, he always asked Aaron loads of questions. Although Hotch didn’t mind flexing his JD now and again, he preferred to do it in a courtroom, not at parties, and not with Arnold Shortes nearly taking notes over their conversation. Aaron turned on his heel and walked quickly to the elevator before Arnold could catch him. Even after a few minutes _y/n_ still hadn’t come back into the second-floor conference room which had been cleared and rearranged for the party. He considered that _y/n_ might have dipped out with Emily, but he was sure she would have told him goodbye before she had left. She always told him goodbye unless he was in a meeting or seemed overly absorbed in his paperwork. _y/n_ introducing her comings and goings had become so routine that he used it as an informal clock now. _y/n_ would always enter the bullpen at 7:45 a.m. sharp unless there was something amiss. And then in the evenings at 5:10 p.m., she’d knock on his office door and wave before skipping down the stairs and to a life that Aaron assumed was filled with much more interesting things than his own. In fact, Hotch had become so accustomed to using _y/n_’s timeliness that he had almost missed a meeting with Strauss because of it. 

Hotch had been sitting in his office looking over a case report, waiting to hear _y/n_’s chipper, “Hey guys,” down in the bullpen. He knew once he heard that he’d have just enough time to grab a coffee, wave to the team, and then make it to Strauss’s office. But it seemed to be taking longer than usual. Concerned, Aaron looked at his watch and was startled when he realized it was already 7:55 a.m. Aaron had to run to the elevator and just barely made it to the meeting on time. After the hour with Strauss, he had found JJ and asked, “Where’s _y/l/n_?” A tinge of concern laced his voice. The media liaison had replied, “She caught a bad cold last night. She just called Emily to let her know that she’s taking the day off with PTO.” Aaron nodded, absorbing the information. He was glad to know that _y/n_ wasn’t in any trouble, or stuck in traffic, but being sick didn’t sound great either. Aaron had spent the rest of that day fiddling around anxiously. Hotch knew it was because of _y/n_ but refused to admit it. Finally, when 5:10 came around, he pulled out his cell and called _y/n_. She’d picked up on the third ring and sounded terrible as she said, “Hey, Hotch. What is it?” Aaron let out a breath and said, “Sorry to disturb you, _y/n_. I just wanted to see how you were doing?” There was a muffled cough on the line, and Aaron cringed as _y/n_ hoarsely replied, “I’m still feeling pretty bad, but the fever is down at least. Hopefully, I’ll be back in a day or two.” Hotch nodded and replied a little too quickly, “Take all the time you need, _y/n_. When you feel better, come back.” There was an awkward pause because Aaron didn’t know what else to say, and _y/n_ hadn’t expected to hear such genuine concern coming from her normally very composed superior. At least not over a little cold. Eventually, _y/n_ who was feeling sleepy again said, “Thanks for checking on me, Hotch. I’ll be alright, just need some sleep.” Again, Aaron nodded. He replied, “Okay. Rest well, _y/n_. See you in a few days.” After that, he hung up and put his head in his hands in desperation. He knew he shouldn’t be having the feelings he was for _y/n_ It was inappropriate. His inner voice reminded him, “She’s sick goddamn it. She probably doesn’t want you around right now.” Aaron did justify his line of thinking slightly because he was just picturing making her some tea to smooth her throat and tucking the blankets around her more tightly. It’s not like he was having sex with her… though he’d had those thoughts before too. In his waking mind, he could stop those images with ease, but in his dreams when he made love to her, it was always overpowering. A time or two, he’d even waken mid-dream to find his body aroused and tense. On these occasions, he’d had to go to the bathroom and find release below a steaming shower. The guilt of doing this weighed on him heavily. One of the times he had done this was during a case, and he hadn’t been able to look at _y/n_ most of the day without flushing and internally reprimanding his body and mind like a teenager. But a majority of Aaron’s thoughts about _y/n_ centered around mundane things like waking up beside her, or cooking dinner together. Aaron knew he was boring, and led a boring life, but if it was possible, he’d like to lead it with _y/n_ beside him. Aaron sighed as the elevator reached his team’s floor. He wished he didn’t sound so melancholic, so lovesick. It wasn’t like him. But _y/n_ pulled the emotions from him like the moon pulled the tides. If nothing else, Aaron had learned something valuable tonight; as Rossi had said, _y/n_ wouldn’t wait for him forever, and they both deserved to know how the other felt about the other.

The bullpen was mostly dark with a few lamps on some desks still on, plus the lamps in Aaron’s office burned down on the rest of the space with their soft halogen glow. Hotch didn’t want to seem like a creep, but he wondered where _y/n_ had wandered off to, or if she had just left without telling him. The latter sounded unlikely. Hotch moved to her desk and noticed that _y/n_’s chair was pulled out with her bulky coat draped over the back, and her sneakers and socks sitting underneath the desk. This indicated to Aaron that _y/n_ was still around. Aaron leaned against the desk, much like Morgan did every day when _y/n_ got into the office. Hotch flushed at the idea of _y/n_ sitting in the empty chair. Being so close and causal like Derek or Garcia were with her. Hotch rarely found himself jealous of Morgan for many reasons, but in this case, he was. He couldn’t afford to be too casual with anyone on the team, especially not with _y/n_. If he was, he knew he’d fall head over heels for her. It was hard enough thinking and dreaming about her. He didn’t need more fuel for that fire. Thinking about this sparked a memory from earlier in the year, and suddenly, Aaron had a sense of where _y/n_ was. It had been after a long day in October. The time change had meant that it was dark outside before anyone left the office. The whole team was still around filling out some reports, except _y/n_ seemed to be missing. Hotch approached Emily and asked, “Where’s _y/n_?” Prenitess chuckled at his question and said, “Licking her wounds up on the roof. Freddy Hareld from Finance just made a big deal about “Just how keen _y/n_ looked. And how she must just be dying to get to know the city better now that she’s part of the BAU, and wouldn’t she let him show her around on Sunday.” Hotch’s eyes grew wide at the story. He was rarely privy to office gossip, even though he knew stuff like this happened around him all the time. However, his co-workers kept him out of the loop, which he didn’t mind until now. Aaron cleared his throat and asked, “Did she seem alright?” He wasn’t one to notice or judge men much, he knew he wasn’t perfect either, but Freddy didn’t seem like _y/n_’s type. Hotch was surprised the man had mustered up the courage to ask. Emily nodded and said, “She just looked annoyed. Apparently, Fred talked, loudly, for about five minutes before she had to shut him down and tell him that she wasn’t interested.” Even though Aaron trusted Prentiss, he wanted to make sure that _y/n_ was okay for himself. Office drama could be uncomfortable. Hotch had spent a good bit of time on the roof himself when he was new to the team. It seemed to be one of the only places in the building where you wouldn’t be disturbed, but now that Aaron had his own office, he didn’t need to find an escape from the team or his own thoughts anymore Much like the first time he had found _y/n_ on the roof seeking an escape, _y/n_ was leaning against the railing, looking out onto the canopy of trees that surrounded the Quantico office and the highway beyond them. Hotch cleared his throat, as he stepped closer to _y/n_. She turned around and felt a blush paint across her face when she saw it was him. 

_y/n_ had just been thinking about him, and there he was. _y/n_ had been considering how they had both been dancing around the other's feelings all year. And two things _y/n_ knew for sure, she wasn’t great at dancing, and her feet were fucking tired. _y/n_ had hoped that there would be a way for her to tell him how she felt without it being awkward or jeopardizing her job. She hoped that she’d at least shown Aaron her care with her actions if not her words. Unfortunately, the few times that had seemed perfect had been cut off by Haley and Jack. The first time had happened in June. A terrorist group was planning on poisoning the largest high school in the region. It had all been a test run for a bigger operation that would take place in D.C. The team had caught on the terrorist’s trail first. But not before Hotch had been taken and tortured for information. The few seconds of audio that Aaron’s captors had shared were so sickening to _y/n_ that she crumpled in on herself and almost vomited. She couldn’t hide how much hearing Hotch in pain was hurting her. When the cell had been caught, the other half of the team moved to Aaron’s location. _y/n_ had shot and then subdued three men before she, Rossi, and Spencer found Hotch black and blue and tied to a chair. He was barely conscious with his mouth gagged. The wad of cloth in his mouth was soaked with sweat and blood that had dripped down the side of Aaron’s face from a large gash on his eyebrow. _y/n_ helped free his mouth while Spencer cut off the zip ties around his battered arms and legs. Rossi was on the phone with the paramedics who were already en route. Once Aaron’s limbs had been freed, he slumped heavily into _y/n_, who supported his weight. She and Spencer helped him to the ground, and he groaned in pain at being shifted. _y/n_ quickly took off her outer jacket and covered his waist. His kidnappers had stripped him of everything but his briefs, and _y/n_ was certain he didn’t want to be so exposed. The paramedics came shortly after and took Aaron to the nearest hospital._y/n_ was grateful that she didn’t have much time to see or think about all the cuts and burns littering Hotch’s prone form. Seeing him like this felt so wrong that it twisted her insides. 

Later, when the doctor had methodically detailed Aaron’s injuries, _y/n_ burned with a fit of anger even _y/n_ didn’t know that she possessed. When he was cleared for it, the team had all gone and saw Aaron in his room. He was surrounded and attached to multiple medical devices keeping him medicated and stable. Even though everyone appreciated Aaron and what he had gone through, no one particularly wanted to stay with him long after wishing him a good night’s rest. No one except _y/n._. Aaron knew it was his fault. He hated hospitals. He would gripe and groan and generally be in a foul mood until he was released as quickly as possible, so he was surprised in his pain-induced state to see _y/n_ pull up a chair close to his bed and just plant herself there. Aaron shifted on the bed to look at her better. That was a bad idea as a sharp pain moved up his side. Hotch muttered, “Fuck” under his breath. He moved his left hand which was attached to an IV toward his stomach to apply some pressure where the pain was radiating from. _y/n_ watched as Aaron moved around. He was straining the line of his IV, and _y/n_ jumped up softly saying, “Hey, hey. Take it easy there Hotch. Just stay calm if you can.” Aaron grunted, but acquiesced as _y/n_ took his left arm and rested it back by his side. She looked at him, concern etched on her face as she asked, “Where does it hurt, Hotch?” Aaron swallowed and almost said everywhere. But his stomach was especially tender and he said, “My, my stomach, but you don’t have to do anything _y/n_. You don’t need to stay here. I’m a pain in the ass when I’m like this.” _y/n_ nodded in understanding as she gently applied a bit of pressure to where he had been trying to reach earlier. He closed his eyes as _y/n_ gently rubbed circles over the inflamed flesh of his torso. Any words about protocol or regulations left him as soon as _y/n_’s hands met his clothed skin. He let out a breath and _y/n_ asked, “Is this okay? I can get a nurse for you?” Aaron shook his head no. He was sick of being poked at. Having three IVs was already putting him on edge. The possibility of more medical equipment was too much to bear. And whatever _y/n_ was doing was soothing him. Hotch softly said, “No nurse. Please. This is good.” Even saying those words seemed to exhaust him. _y/n_ just nodded and kept gently running her hand over his stomach. She didn’t want to think about how this was probably breaking ten rules, or how Aaron’s body looked under the flimsy hospital gown. She just kept moving her hands and watched as Hotch seemed to still and then finally sleep. When his breathing had evened out, _y/n_ pulled the covers over him again and took her seat once more. She didn’t care if he was in a mood or snapped at her. _y/n_ just didn’t think he should be alone right now. So she was going to sit with him until either he told her to leave or someone in the hospital kicked her out. It was at that moment that all of her disparate feelings for him coalesced into one of love. Not a fling or a passing fancy, but the kind of love that lasts through illness and grief and every other part of life. _y/n_ sighed and thought, “What a time to have a revelation like this,” as she kept watch over her boss, unable to leave his side. 

Aaron had shown interest in her too. _y/n_ felt a bit better that she wasn’t the only one falling in love. He was more subtle about it, or at least he was trying to be. But that hadn’t stopped her from noticing how he looked at her, how his gaze lingered just a second too long in meetings. He’d pull his eyes away quickly as if he’d been caught doing something improper. Then there was the time he’d called her when she was sick and how he’d seemed a little too excited to have her back after a short four days of illness. And he looked out for her on cases. Not that Aaron didn’t look out for everyone, but he seemed to take her comfort more seriously than he needed to. He held the door for her and let her sit in the passenger seat so they could throw ideas back and forth. At first _y/n_ had thought it was just because she was the newest member of the team. But the behavior from Hotch continued, and just one time on a case, he’d pulled her out of a line of fire and rolled on top of her even though he probably didn’t need to go that far. As Aaron let out a breath of excitement over the case and the woman below him, _y/n_ caught the tells of desire on his face. It didn’t help that they were in what could be an intimate position. His pupils were wide and his breath came in little gasps. _y/n_ didn’t need to see his groin to know that he was excited down there too. After a second, Hotch quickly got up and helped _y/n_ stand too. Aaron nervously straightened his shirt and tie and after quickly asking _y/n_ if she was okay, and her response of “yes,” he moved away from her to gather some semblance of composure. The fact that Aaron was flushed and couldn’t look at her for the rest of the day told _y/n_ all she needed to know about Hotch’s thoughts about her. Or at least the uncontrollable whims of his strong body.  _y/n_ didn’t let herself get carried away. Aaron was still her boss, and she was his agent. And because of this neither had said anything or acted like they were falling in love with the other because it didn’t feel like it could happen. Not to them. But now as _y/n_ sat by his hospital bed, she wondered what it would be like with Aaron. To peek behind his well-kept facade and just be close to him. _y/n_ assumed this was the nearest she’d ever come to that, so she settled in for a long night and decided if this was all she was getting, then she would accept it. Fate had never been so kind to give her something as lovely as Aaron, Hotchner, and she accepted it. 

It was a long night. Hotch woke almost every hour in pain or needing to adjust for his comfort. _y/n_ moved his pillows and blankets for him, helped him drink a glass of water, and called a nurse when he needed to relieve himself. The next morning she was tired, but when Aaron woke, he seemed much improved. He softly said, “_y/n_, thanks for last night. For being here. You made being here, comfortable for me.” _y/n_ took his hand softly and rubbed over his knuckles with her thumb. Gently she said, “It was nothing, Aaron. I’m just glad you’re okay.” _y/n_ was so tired that she was about to speak transparently and say, “I’d do this all the time if you needed me to. I don’t mind staying up all night with you whether you’re sick or not.” That was the closest thing to a confession that _y/n_ could think of. But she had been interrupted when a nurse knocked on the door and said, “Mr. Hotchner, your son, and Ms. Brooks are here to see you. Should I let them in?” Hearing this, _y/n_ dropped his hand and her head a tiny bit. She stood and said, “I’ll give ya’ll some space, Hotch.” Aaron nodded yes to the nurse, and watched as _y/n_ left the room. He felt like he’d just missed something big,  but didn’t know what. _y/n_ passed Haley and Jack in the hall. _y/n_ gave the pair a small smile and nod, and she made her way to the hospital lounge to get some much-needed coffee. The Hotchner-Brooks divorce was still very new, and _y/n_ wondered where things had fallen apart between the two of them. She also wondered if there was any chance at all for her and Aaro.  It didn’t feel like it at the moment. 

_y/n_ snapped back to the present when Aaron said her name more loudly. He was holding out his suit jacket for her and saying, “You look a little cold.” Hotch was right, she was cold. _y/n_ had wished she’d brought her coat up to the roof almost as soon as she had stepped outside. However, she was too lazy to want to go back in. She’d escaped Freddy’s boring conversation and looked at Aaron right before she moved to the roof for some fresh air. _y/n_ was pondering if she should just give up her dreams about Hotch. Neither of them seemed to be making any moves out of fear that they might say no to the other or that they might ruin the strong friendship they had now. _y/n_ was getting tired of it though. But then there was Aaron as always being a gentleman and looking out for her. _y/n_ nodded and Aaron slipped behind her, placing the jacket over her shoulders. His hands brushed over her exposed skin, and _y/n_ felt that familiar spark burn through her anytime she felt Aaron’s hands on her. Those times were few and far between. She looked over at Aaron and decided that tonight she was going to give him a line and see if he took it. If she didn’t seem interested, she’d let her infatuation go and move on. She could be happy not loving Aaron. At least she hoped she could. Hotch moved to her side next to the railing and he asked, “Was Fred trying to ask you out again?” _y/n_ flushed because it was so rare for him to ask her about her personal life. She remembered the first time it had happened she’d nearly dropped her _y/f/c/b_. That first time had been Freddy-related too. That time they both seemed embarrassed to be talking about it. Now _y/n_ was much more comfortable being open with Aaron. She looked at him and replied, “No. Not this time thankfully. I think the third time actually did it. No today he was just asking about the cases the team has been on recently, and then, inexplicably, he started talking about his pet lizard.” Hearing this, Aaron couldn’t help but cringe. _y/n_ chuckled and said, “You know he’s not a bad guy, just not the guy for me. But bless him, he needs to learn to read a room.” Aaron hummed and said, “Well I’m glad he’s ended his crusade.” _y/n_ laughed at his commentary and replied, “You know he’s right about one thing. I still don’t know this city at all. The cases keep me tired enough to not want to explore on my days off. What do you say we skip the party and you show me something worth seeing?” And here was _y/n_’s line. All Aaron had to do was give it a tug. Hotch looked at her with some surprise, like he had when he was half-dazed in the hospital bed. He cleared his throat and said, “Are you sure it’s me you want? Garcia, or even JJ could show you a better time. I’m sure they wouldn’t mind…” _y/n_ could sense that he was deflecting, and said, “No. I want you. You’ve lived here longer and you’ve gotta know the places that aren’t tourist traps. Plus, Garcia is flirting up a storm with that tech down there and JJ only has eyes for Will. I wouldn’t dare break up either of those conversations right now.” After a pause, _y/n_ added, “Come on Hotch. You looked miserable in there. You’re honestly telling me that you want to go back?” 

Aaron let out a warm laugh and said, “Alright, I wasn’t particularly enjoying myself. Too much small talk makes me feel like a dog that’s been bred for show. And I never understood why they held this thing after Christmas and between New Year's. That time feels sacred in some unspeakable way.” _y/n_ was grinning and said, “Totally. I know the director said there was some sort of conflict, but that just read like bad code for, ‘Let me take my ski vacation with my family first.’ And don’t mention the playlist in there. Nobody was enjoying that, I swear to god.” Hotch had to stifle a harsh laugh to not sound unbecoming. That was another thing about _y/n_, they synced with each other’s humor. Sometimes he had to look away from her in meetings to avoid bursting out laughing. The fact was a joy and a pain in equal measure. Aaron looked over to her again, and he realized that she was still waiting for an answer. He took a breath to steel himself. Aaron left like it was now or never, and he didn’t want to let _y/n_ go. Not after all they’d been through this year. He did, however, need a moment to think about where exactly to take _y/n_. He hadn’t exactly been on the town himself since the divorce. Hotch slowly said, “I’d be happy to show you around, _y/n_, but would you give me a minute to think about where exactly to take you? I’m, um, particular about places.” _y/n_ nodded and relaxed into the railing. Aaron looked her over again. She looked ravishing in that dress, and it didn’t hurt that she had his jacket on too. He rested his hands on the cool metal and looked out onto the highway. Gently he asked, “What do you think about when you come up here? I used to spend a good deal of time up here too. When I was new to the BAU at least.” _y/n_ looked over him. Pondering the question. Trying to picture him as a green agent under Gideon. Trying to imagine him in his early thirties instead of his late forties. That all felt like a different time. She hadn’t been there then. _y/n_ moved her gaze to the highway and said, “Well most of my time up here is spent far less productively than yours was. I’m sure. In fact, three of the seven times on this roof have been an escape from Freddy. The other four times, I’m sure I was just annoyed, at myself or someone else. It’s a good place to cool off. Shake the cares of the day away.”

Aaron rolled his eyes. Most of his time up here had been spent sitting against the wall and questioning his life choices, but he didn’t verbalize that thought. He didn’t need to as  _y/n_ continued, “But sometimes I like to close my eyes and pretend I can see D.C. from the rooftop. The capital or Washinton Mall. I know it’s silly, and I’ve explored that city even less than this one, but that’s why we’re here, aren’t we? To keep people safe. To keep the dream alive for everyone who doesn’t have to see the dark underbelly of this country. It gives me comfort.” Hearing this, Hotch stepped forward and placed a hand on _y/n_’s shoulder. He wasn’t sure why. He replied, “I don’t think that’s silly at all, _y/n_.” Something _y/l/n_ had said had sparked an idea in Hotch. There was a place on the border between D.C. and Virginia that he’d liked a long time ago. Politicians from either side of the aisle would meet there to make deals and broker favors. As a younger man, he had thought it was cool. Aaron looked at _y/n_ and said, “How do you feel about jazz?” _y/n_ nodded yes and said, “I don’t mind it. Improvisation is good for the soul. Gets you out there. Is there dancing?” Aaron tried to remember the intimate club and eventually nodded yes, saying, “I think so. But I wouldn’t trust me with that. I’ve got two left feet.” _y/n_’s laughter cut through the cold night and she said, “It’s alright. Me too most of the time.” Aaron shifted his hand to her lower back as he asked, “This place is too far to walk. Did you drive here?” _y/n_ replied, “No. Em took me. I was planning on taking an Uber back when I was done with my private roof party.” Aaron noticed her eyes slowly blowing out and her breath coming in faster in her chest. Aaron nodded and said, “Okay. Well, we’ll take my car if you're comfortable with it. I can drop you off at your place after?” _y/n_ agreed and said, “Sounds like a plan.” 

The pair made a quick stop by Aaron’s office and _y/n_’s desk to grab their things before heading out. Neither made any formal goodbye at the party. Hotch felt oddly free as he stepped out of the field office with _y/n_ by his side. On the drive to the jazz club, he pointed out different areas of the town to _y/n_. He knew he sounded like a dad, but _y/n_ seemed interested in learning more about the area and asked follow-up questions as they cruised down the dark streets. There was no parking in front of the club, so Aaron found some down the road. The club was unassumingly nestled into the facade of a street full of high-end stores. Now it was _y/n_’s turn to point out interesting trends in the window and designers she despised. Aaron got a small tirade about _y/l/f/d_ when they passed that storefront. _y/n_ was sure Hotch had lost interest at that point, but when she looked at him, he seemed engrossed. He looked over at her and said, “Well, I’d have never known that unless you’d told me. Now I’ll have something smart to say when there’s more small talk to be made at parties.” _y/n_ smiled at Aaron. She knew she had her eccentricities, but he took them with such grace and she wondered what she’d done to earn even an hour of this man's time.  _y/n_ spared him any other commentary. When they stepped into the small, dark space of the club, Aaron told the matre de that it was just two, and the man led the two toward the back of the space. The head waiter graciously motioned to a small couch near the live band playing soft jazz in the back corner of the room. Aaron let _y/n_ take a seat first, and he followed after her. Shortly after being seated a waiter came and took their orders. Aaron got an old-fashioned, and _y/n_ ordered _y/f/d_. As they waited for their drinks to arrive, _y/n_ asked Aaron, “So, how did you find this place?” Hotch did his best to summarize his first year in the BAU. How unsure he was about the shift in jobs. How Haley had been the one to get him out of the house and office. As Aaron recounted his story, _y/n_ didn’t pull away or, cringe at the mention of the former Mrs. Hotcher. _y/n_ realized as much as anyone how important Haley was to Aaron. He’d loved her for a long time before things had fallen apart. And she’d loved him too. _y/n_ was far less insecure about this fact now. She was ashamed about how she’d felt about Haley at the hospital that one time. Not only was Haley important, but _y/n_ realized that Jack was the zenith of Aaron’s life. And she respected that. Fatherhood seemed far from easy, and add being head of the BAU on top of that? Hell, Aaron made it look easy. So she listened to him open up in a way that he never had in front of her before, and _y/n_ got her small peak behind his work facade. She realized that he was just a man doing his best. Trying to juggle all of the plates at his feet, and somehow that was the most attractive thing possible about Aaron Hotchner that she hadn’t ever noticed before that instant. 

Hotch looked at _y/n_ after his long-winded story and expected to see boredom there. Or disappointment at how often he’d brought up Haley or Jack. But he didn’t find it. Only a look of admiration that he couldn’t quite place. And suddenly Hotch wanted to say everything that he’d bottled up over the year and wanted to lean down and kiss _y/n_ on the lips like he had in his dreams. And _y/n_ watched as Aaron shifted in his demeanor. How his eyes were wide again and he seemed to be building to something new. Something yet said or explored between them. The sudden and insistent beeping of Hotch’s phone cut off that moment in an instant. Aaron pulled back from _y/n_ a bit and murmured, “Sorry,” as he accepted the call. After a second, Hotch’s mood changed again, as he replied to the other end of the line. “Is he alright? What’s the matter?” _y/n_ pulled back a bit more, realizing this was a private conversation and she was a bit too close to Aaron for it to be happening like one. His frown and worry lines increased, as he listened to the dialog she couldn’t hear. After a minute he replied, “Yes, I’ll head over right away. You said the doctor was on his way too?... Yeah, yeah. I’ll just be twenty minutes or so… Okay. Tell Jack I’m on my way… Yeah. Bye.” Aaron dropped his hand with this cell in it and looked at _y/n_ with sad eyes. She looked back and him and said, “Is it Jack?” Aaron nodded and replied, “Haley said he has a bad fever, and it’s getting worse. She called a doctor and she thinks I should come over. _y/n_, I’m sorry.” _y/n_ gave him a pat on the arm and said, “Go be with your son, Aaron. There are more important things than me in the world. At least in your world.” Hotch nodded with the same sad eyes. He realized how much of a sacrifice _y/n_ was making for him, how life in the BAU was a whole big load of sacrifice. Aaron stood, and just to show a fraction of how grateful he was for _y/n_’s presence in his life, he leaned down and kissed her forehead. It was chaste, and he pulled away before he could get ahead of himself.

Aaron was gone before _y/n_ could even fully register what had happened. The bell at the door told of Hotch’s departure, and _y/n_ could have screamed out of desire or despair at how the night had come to a quick conclusion. But she didn’t. _y/n_ knew how important Jack was to Hotch. Everything else but his son was at the periphery of Aaron’s life, and Jack was at the center. As _y/n_ settled back into the loveseat, now alone, she contemplated how yet again any plans or revelations of their feelings had been dashed. But _y/n wasn’t mad about it. _y/n_ had to remind herself that for the half hour, they had been together that night, Aaron had allowed her to see more of himself. And he was, as _y/n_ expected, as good a man as they came. _y/n_ thought, “How often does a girl really get to see a good man?” It was a pleasure, even if it was for just an evening. 

The final few days of December passed in a wave of the hand. _y/n_ had asked Aaron if Jack was alright the morning after their night on the town, and he’d said that the fever had broken in the night and that his son was on the mend. Aaron had asked _y/n_ in the same text exchange if she’d gotten home okay after his sudden departure. She had told him that she’d called a Lyft soon after he’d left to get home. And then, before _y/n_ knew it, she was packing her bags for a long weekend at one of Derek’s properties on a lake outside the city limits. She was carpooling with Emily and Garcia. _y/n_ had heard that Morgan’s New Year’s Eve parties were times to remember and she was finally going to experience one for herself. _y/n_ was already excited to be spending time with her friends, but when Emily said, “You know Aaron’s coming too? He apparently called Morgan last minute and asked if there was still an empty bed, _y/n_’s jaw dropped. _y/n_ quickly composed herself and said, “Well the more the merrier.” Em rolled her eyes and said, “The more the merrier my ass, _y/n_. You know he’s just going there for you. When are you going to catch on that he’s in love with you?” Penelope agreed from the backstreet and said, “Honestly. _y/n_. He’s been making googly eyes at you all year. And what was that with him taking you out after the Holiday Party? Do you see Hotchy doing that with anyone else?” _y/n_ sighed exasperated with her friend's encouragement. She half-heartedly said, “Well, he could have been.” this had Garcia and Prentiss cackling and Penelope said, “This is the time, _y/n_. I swear. If it’s not, I’ll pull Hotch aside myself and give him a piece of my mind.” Despite _y/n_’s friends banter, _y/n_ felt reluctant. None of the other times seemed to work out, and she didn’t see how this was going to be any different. 

As Morgan’s lake house came into view, _y/n_ tried to let everything go. Whatever happened would happen, and she planned on having fun no matter how the next day and a half went. The trio of women were the second to last to arrive. Spencer joined them a half-hour later. Derek quickly showed everyone to their rooms. It felt like an adult sleepover and an energy charged the air. For the first hour or so the team just relaxed and unpacked. Derek, Rossi, Spencer, and Aaron sat on the leather couches and talked about the year. Their highs and lows. They also debated which case was the most interesting from the year. As the men talked, Emily, _y/n_, JJ, and Garcia all tried on the dresses they had brought for the end of the night. As they were helping with the zippers and hemlines, _y/n_ said, “I’m sorry Will couldn’t come tonight, J.” JJ smiled and said, “Yeah. But I think it’s fine. We’ll be married soon enough and we’ll have the rest of our lives to be together. Tonight feels like the gang is back together in a nostalgic sort of way. You know what I mean?” The other nodded alone and Emily said, “I feel ‘ya JJ. What a year it’s been. But we’re all happy for you know. I think you got the last good guy on the market with Will.” JJ grinned and helped _y/n_ slip into her ‘dress.” The media liaison seemed to glow with a pre-marriage, I’ve-found-the-love-of-my-life aura even four months before her wedding day. And suddenly all the women were dressed, and they all looked at each other and complimented each other. Emily was in a sleek purple pants suit. JJ was in a fitted black dress. Garcia, as always, was wearing a bright orange tulle skirt with a pink top, plus white fingerless gloves. The tech noted, “And I’ve got about ten million little things to put in my hair too!” Lastly, _y/n_ was wearing something far slinkier than her friends. It essentially amounted to a lot of large, shimmery _y/f/v_ sequins held together with tiny metal rings. _y/n_ hadn’t worn it since before turning twenty and she couldn’t remember why she’d bought it. “Maybe for a rave?” She thought. Because the garment was so sheer, she was wearing sensible black underwear and a matching bra underneath, but _y/n_ flushed at the one time she’d gone clubbing without the undergarments beneath. That had been a fun evening.

The compliments made the rounds, and Garcia told _y/n_, “You look drop-dead good in that, _y/n_. The boys won’t know what hit them.” At the mention of “the boys,” _y/n_ looked at the ground and said, “You know I would have picked a different outfit if I’d known Hotch was coming.” The others snickered, and _y/n_ laughed too, saying, “I’m being serious. I’m not trying to look like a slut in front of him. The brief said ‘Fun New Year's attire and this is the funniest, New Years-ist dress I’ve got.” Emily moved forward and gave _y/n_’s shoulder a pat saying, “You’ll be fine, _y/n_. You look glorious. Plus you’re the youngest one here. That means you can get away with wearing something more risque. I’m just shocked you can wear something from that long ago. I’m lucky if I could pull off something from two years ago and it look good, I can’t even think about five or ten.” Prentiss shuddered at the thought, and that got a good laugh out of all of them. 

 A knock at the closed door, had them all look away from each other. It was Derek saying that he, Aaron, and Rossi were going to take a walk along the path that went around the lake nearby. And if any of them wanted to join them? _y/n_and Em jumped at the chance. The pair quickly changed back into their casual clothes and headed out with the guys. The walk was pleasant and they all just took in the fresh air and saw the trees surrounding the water. Aaron was walking a few steps behind _y/n_ and he contemplated his feelings about her once more. Even he was getting annoyed with himself. He blamed it on being indecisive in the worst possible area of his life, partnership. But he’d decided today was going to be the day. He was going to bite the bullet and ask _y/n_ how he felt about her. Even though he couldn’t picture the words leaving his mouth, he swore to himself that it was going to happen. The walk concluded, and then everyone got some drinks which Aaron happily and skillfully mixed. Then Derek and Rossi made dinner and everyone ate outside around the fire. And by that time it was already ten and the first fireworks were dotting the sky. Aaron and _y/n_ were sitting next to each other. Close enough that he could move his arm just an inch and he would be touching hers. Hotch’s eyes stayed on the sky as he asked, “Do you have any plans for the New Year?” It was too cliched to ask about resolutions, but he did wonder what someone like _y/n_ thought about the future. _y/n_ turned her gaze to him, and replied, “I don’t know. I want my apartment to feel more homey. It’s still giving college vibes if I’m being honest. I’d like to buy some better furniture, like the opposite of the stuff from IKEA. And then there’s helping JJ with the wedding, and then just going out more. Seeing the city like we did after the party.” _y/n_ felt like saying, “I’d like doing that with you,” and also, “Does this make me sound boring?” But _y/n_ couldn’t vocalize either of those thoughts as Gacia stepped out onto the patio and proclaimed, “It’s dress-up time, baby girl!” _y/n_ shook her head and chuckled. Aaron gave her a hand up and watched as she disappeared into the house. _y/n_’s list sounded just up his alley, and he wondered why he’d been putting off his feelings for so long. Why he couldn’t just man up and tell her he loved her? That he was mad about _y/n_. Aaron sighed and walked inside after _y/n_.

It was 11:15 when the girls were all dolled up with their outfits, heels, and makeup. Derek had the TV playing with the countdown to the ball drop on as ambient noise. The champagne was ready to be popped, and the new year was rung in with friends and laughter. Garcia and Derek were both oddly big about watching the ball drop. _y/n_ had interrogated Penelope about this on the way up to Morgan’s house. Garcia had just said, “It’s tradition, and you don’t mess with tradition.” Just as the group of women stepped into the light to be seen for the first time, the power went out. There was a moment of silence and then Derek said, “Really house. You do this to me now?’ That got everyone laughing, and Aaron asked, “Where’s the breaker Morgan? I’ll give it a look.” Derek told him and Hotch stood outside for a second. While Aaron was gone, Penelope and Morgan talked about what they would do about a countdown. Nobody wanted to just look at the clock. That, Morgan had said, “Wasn’t festive at all.” Aaron came back and said, “It’s not good news, the main fuse is fried.” That had Derek thinking and he announced, “Alright, change of plans. There’s a dive bar down the road. If we book it, we can make it there before midnight.” There was little complaint from the group as Morgan and Penelope hustled everyone into two cars and down the street. There was so much excitement that nobody got to see the women’s outfits until they were standing outside the bar. The space was a dive and it was packed with partiers. The walkway up wasn’t paved, so Aaron took _y/n_’s hand with his left, and even though he didn’t need to, he placed his right on her lower back. Again he felt that spark shoot through him. The cool sequins juxtaposed to _y/n_’s warm skin were doing things to him that he didn’t want to think about right now. Or maybe it was the dress that didn’t leave much to the imagination. Either of those was a good option. Inside, the team found a spot to stand and watch as the time ticked down from 11:55 to midnight. Derek joked and said, “Alright, who’s kissing who when it’s time?” Emily raised a hand and teasingly said, “I volunteer for you, Morgan.” The team laughed and then started counting down. Everyone except Hotch, who was standing a bit farther back. _y/n_ sighed, knowing he was never a big fan of crowds. She stepped close to him. Even as Aaron sought a moment of reprieve, both _y/n_ still had to stand almost body to body to avoid bumping into anyone. As “THREE, TWO, ONE” were unanimously chanted in the tight space, _y/n_ was going to try and pick up where their conversation had stopped earlier in the night. To see if Aaron had any plans going into the New Year. But she didn’t get the chance to as the call of “Happy New Year!” Hotch bent down and pressed his lips to hers. 

Aaron had meant for it to be a little peck. Just something to ring in the new year with. But _y/n_ only stood in shock for a moment before she realized what was happening, and she’d waited so god damn long for this very moment that she quickly leaned into it, pressing her body to Aaron’s as her arms wrapped around him. Aaron reciprocated in kind and placed one of his hands on her hip and the other on the crown of _y/n_’s head. Holding them together like he might fall apart if he let her go. Aaron's lips were slightly chapped and his cologne, which _y/n_ knew well, crept over her like a sunray. As soon, as they’d started, they didn’t want to stop. Then it dawned on both of them, like they hadn’t been yearning for the other for over a year, that they didn’t have to stop. So they didn’t. Not until they had to pull away panting for air. And once they’d gotten breath back in them, they came together again. This time it was more cautious.  More subdued as Aaron began to memorize the shape of _y/n_’s soft mouth pressed against his own, _y/n_ made a small contented sound that only he could hear and smiled as she placed her hands on his chest. _y/n_ his body in a way that indicated an intimacy that had always been there between them. The rest of the team watched them with Garcia saying, “About time. My god, I thought I was going to have to lock them in a closet together later tonight.” Rossi joked and said, “Well, there’s still time to do that later,” as he came back with a handful of champagne flutes. Dave handed one to each member of the team and then walked a pace over to _y/n_ and Aaron. Hotch was looking into _y/n_’s eyes but stopped when he noticed his friend. Rossi smiled and said, “Alright you kids. How about you take a moment and join us for a toast?” _y/n_ flushed, but nodded taking a glass from Rossi. Aaron chuckled and got a glass himself. He never let his hand lose contact with _y/n_’s side as all three walked back to the table. Rossi gave Aaron a strong pat on the shoulder as they moved to the group and winked at _y/n_, which only made her flush further. Hotch didn’t even care as the whole team's little “oohs and ahhs” sounded at their return. Aaron realized that scrutiny or affection didn’t feel so bad with _y/n_’s hand in his. He realized with full clarity that she’d been there all along, and he’d just not moved his hand to meet hers. He’d tell her he was sorry for that later. For stringing her on so long. He’d tell her he loved her more times than he could count too. But for now, as everyone lifted their glasses saying “Happy New Year!” The future never looked brighter.

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[frotesque]

On the Darkest Nights

Hobie Brown x Reader

As promised I come bearing Hobie!Whump with extremely light angst but honestly still mostly fluff because of who I am as a person.

I think the reader is pretty gender neutral but they are definitely black so do with that info what you will!

SFW, descriptions of blood but not really graphic injury descriptions

You had always been a pretty heavy sleeper, but recently that fact had changed. The sound of Hobie returning from his patrols could rouse you from even your deepest sleep, no matter how much he tried to be quiet. It hadn’t even taken very long for the habit to develop; you had met Hobie, starting seeing him a few months later, and the first time he’d shown up in your room with a stab wound was another month or two after that.

So it really didn’t take much to wake you, but Hobie was never so loud as he was that night. At the first thump against your window, you’d snapped into near full wakefulness. You could see Hobie’s silhouette through the glass and watched as he attempted to open it from the outside. His hand slipped, suit squeaking in a strange way. You noticed the dark wet streak his hand left behind a moment later.

“Hobie!” You got out of bed in a rush, crossing the room to your window and opening it for him.

“‘S fine,” Hobie’s voice was strained as he heaved himself up and over the windowsill. He went to stand to his full height, only barely lifting himself before his knees buckled. You were expecting as much, your arms already wrapped around his shoulders. You eased both of your bodies to the floor, helping him lean his back against the short wall under the window.

“You are not fine,” you retorted, reaching up to pull his mask off for him so he could breathe properly. His skin was clammy and strangely ashen, the normally rich tone off in an alarming way. His face was scrunched in pain, teeth clenching. You wiped his forehead with your palm, pushing his hair back and holding it there for him. “What happened? Where are you hurt?”

He swallowed, taking a couple of laborious breaths before answering. “Shot.” He tilted his chin down towards his hands, which were pressed hard to his side, just above his left hip.

“Fuck,” you snapped, already standing and running to your bathroom. You grabbed several towels from your linen closet and rushed back to your room, dropping all but one into a pile nearby. “Okay, baby. Time to let go.” You crouched next to him, towel hovering near the wound. As soon as he moved his hands, you were pressing it to his side hard, wincing when he whimpered in pain. “I know, I know,” you whispered, leaning in to press your lips to his sweaty cheek. “Can you hold it here, baby? Put pressure on it?”

Hobie nodded, hands returning to their previous position and holding the towel to the wound. You pulled away, noting that the towel was quickly soaking through. This was fucking bad.

Back when Hobie had first started coming to you after rough nights of being Spider-Man, you’d taken it upon yourself to start learning basic first-aid to take care of him. You’d started joining him at protests, working as a “Medic”. You’d learned a lot from the professionals who worked in the first aid tents; some doctors, some paramedics or EMTs, and some just long-time activists. While that had generally been enough to help Hobie with his injuries, a bullet wound was another matter altogether.

Hobie’s soft voice calling your name snapped you out of your momentary panic.

“What? What’s wrong?” You asked.

“‘S all the way through.” He managed.

You cursed, grabbing another towel. “You gotta sit up, Hobie. Let me get this around you.” You moved in close to him again, tapping your shoulder. “Lay your head right here, baby. I’ll be as fast as I can.” He blinked his eyes open from where they’d been squeezed shut, groaning when he saw the distance between yourself and where he was slumped against the wall. “It’ll be quick, okay?”

He took another breath or two before grabbing at your shoulder with one bloody hand and tugging himself upright until his face was shoved between your other shoulder and neck. He muffled his agonized noise there as you quickly wrapped the towel around his waist and tied it as tight as you could. You grabbed the back of his neck and his arm, easing him away from you and back against the wall (which looked like something out of a horror movie or a crime scene).

He was crying silently, as were you. “I know, Bee, I’m so sorry,” you cooed at him, feeling awful. You used another towel to wipe the sweat from his face again before pulling off your bonnet and removing the scrunchie keeping your hair pineappled underneath. You pulled his wicks out of his face, tying them up quickly and kissing his forehead before standing. “I’m gonna get the first aid kit, I’ll be right back, okay?”

He made a soft noise, one you’d never heard from him before and that you never wanted to hear again. It made your vision blur with tears again. You blinked to clear it and leaned down to press another kiss to Hobie’s forehead.

“Right back, Bee. We gotta get you fixed up.” You tore yourself away from his side, leaving the doors to your room and the bathroom open. You dug the first aid kit from the cabinet under the sink, paying no mind to anything that got knocked down around it. You paused in the bathroom just long enough to grab another hair tie for your own afro, unbothered about the blood you knew was still on your hands as you pulled it up again.

Your heart almost stopped when you returned to the bedroom and saw Hobie’s head tilted back against the windowsill, eyes closed. His breathing was ragged and wet sounding, though based on the location of the wound you figured that was probably from the crying rather than anything with his lungs; which was a massive relief. You wiped your cheeks hastily as you dropped back to your knees next to him again.

“Okay, Hobie,” you said softly, unable to resist cupping his face and swiping your thumb along his cheekbone, “think you’ve clotted?” Spider-healing was a miracle, and one that worked pretty quickly. Hobie probably would’ve managed to heal whether you helped or not, but it would’ve been much more unpleasant for sure.

He cleared his throat, swallowing again. “Think so,” he mumbled, not moving from his current position.

You nodded, mostly to yourself, and opened the first aid kit to pull out some antiseptic wipes, compress dressings, and adhesive tape. You were a little less in over your head at this point. “I’m gonna get these towels off so they don’t dry and stick, okay?”

Hobie hummed his affirmation, which felt like the best you were gonna get at this point. You untied the towel around his waist as gently as you could, noting when he sucked in a breath from pain but ultimately glad he was no longer so bad off that he was vocalizing. You allowed the first towel to drop, frowning when the second remained stuck to his side. You pulled at it lightly, thankful when it came off the wound with little resistance. It was quite damp with blood, which was a little concerning, but you knew that once he was properly bandaged Hobie would replenish it quick.

“Want me to cut the suit or can we take it off?” It would need repair either way. And a really thorough wash.

“Off,” he said, lifting his head and beginning to shrug out of his vest. You eased it the rest of the way off, tossing it to the side.

Lots of practice made it easy for you to find his suit’s zip in the back without making him lean forward much. Hobie plucked at his fingertips, loosening the gloves up for you. You pulled the zipper down, then tugged at the suit’s sleeves to remove it from his torso. He simply watched as you carefully pulled the suit down just past the wound, wincing a little when some of the dried blood pulled at his skin.

As much as you wanted to give him a break, you knew that even if he wasn’t bleeding quite so badly, blood loss was still a real and present danger. “It’s gonna sting, Bee.” You warned, pulling an antiseptic wipe from its pouch.

“Can’t get much worse, yeah?” His voice was little more than a croak. Upsetting as his words were, you couldn’t help your relief at the longer sentence.

He watched silently as you got to it, cleaning the wound with as gentle a touch as you could manage. Once the wound and a decent amount of skin around it was clean, you applied the dressing, taping it down quickly and efficiently.

“We’ve gotta do the back again, baby,” you said, prepping the next wipe. “C’mon, just lay on me.” He leaned forward on his own power this time, tucking his face in your neck again. His arms wound around your waist in a weak approximation of a hug. It wasn’t really the easiest position for you to work in, but he clearly needed the comfort.

You worked as quickly as you could. Once you’d finished, you relented in your urge to return Hobie’s hug, brushing a gentle hand over his bare shoulders. You’d started crying again at some point, and you were thankful he couldn't see as you discreetly wiped at your face.

“There we go, you’re all done.” You turned your head to press a few kisses to Hobie’s cheek. “We’re gonna get you in bed now. Can you stand up with me?”

“Yeah,” Hobie mumbled. You adjusted your grip so your arms were under his armpits. He gingerly adjusted his legs so he could rise onto his toes, and you stood alongside him, only needing to help a little.

You both shuffled the short distance to your bed. When you reached the edge, you helped ease Hobie down before crouching in front of him and working at the laces on his boots. You loosened them while he lay back, his eyes drifting shut again.

It didn't take too much longer for you to get his boots and the rest of his suit off, leaving him in only his briefs and web-shooters. He was already half-asleep if the steady rise and fall of his chest was any indication. You couldn’t help but smile at the sight, stepping away from him just long enough to run to the kitchen for a glass of water and return.

“Hobie, honey,” you said, voice soft.

He stirred immediately. “Wha’?”

You chuckled at the barely coherent question. “Just a little longer, sweetheart. I’ll trade you those webs for some water.”

“Fuck yeah, water,” he said with a groan, easily removing his web shooters and holding them up to you. You passed him the glass as you took them, setting them carefully on your desk. By the time you turned back around, he’d drained the glass and was setting it on your bedside table. “‘M sorry ‘m so gross in your bed.” Even as he said it, Hobie was shifting and making himself comfortable under the sheets.

You glanced around at your room; covered in blood and medical supplies and shrugged. “I’m just glad you’re okay, Hobie.” You answered honestly. All of that felt very much like a problem for tomorrow.

It felt a little stupid to go retrieve your bonnet from the floor and Hobie’s from your bedside drawer, but you did so anyway, grasping at normalcy on such a fucking shit show of a night. You put on your own before gently lifting Hobie’s head to put his on as well. He hummed at the familiar sensation, smile twitching at his lips.

You wasted little more time joining him, careful with your limbs so as to not jostle his injury. He tended to sleep on his back, so you climbed over his prone form to the side of the bed opposite his hurt side. You sighed as your head hit the pillow, blinking slowly at his peaceful expression. “Hey, Hobie. I love you.”

You weren’t expecting a response, figuring he’d already fallen asleep after such a harrowing night. When his soft response drifted over from his side of the bed, you knew that no matter how many nights like these you had, you’d be there by his side for it.

“Love you too, sweetheart.”