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animeyanderelover · 4 months

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I've just recently finally gathered the courage to buy a horror manga from Junji Ito and I've gone for Tomie and now that I've actually started reading it, I just can't stop thinking about having a female s/o based on a similar concept. Someone who has the uncanny ability to make people obsessed with her if they spend enough time with her and who always regenerates no matter how cruel her deaths are by the hands of very same people who fell victims to her strange powers and claimed to adore her.

After years of enduring death and obsession in an never-ending cycle again and again, I can only imagine how jaded and morbid reader would be with everything. She has fully embraced her cursed existence at this point because there is literally nothing she can do about it so at this point she has turned it all into a game. Every time someone else falls for her, she's basically playing the 'what Yandere type are you going to be?' in her head as she has seen it all. She has seen the possessive, the obsessive, the delusional, the overprotective, the clingy, the submissive and dominant, the worshippers and the sadists.

Reader can only sit back and watch with a mixture of pity and amusement in her heart as her newest victim is molded into another obsessive freak that she will live with and indulge their every whim for as long until they snap and she will die yet another death at the hands of her supposed lover.

There are a few worlds where I think such a reader would be especially interesting to let loose (by the way, there are spoilers for Chainsaw Man if you are an anime only):

In Hunter x Hunter I have two headcannons for a Tomie reader. Either she has a Nen ability. Considering that her mere presence would twist and change everyone's emotions as well as considering her regeneration abilities and other things she can do with her body, she'd either be in possession of two nen types which would be Transmutation and Manipulation or she would be a Specialist

The headcannon I consider to be far more intriguing though would be if reader would be a humanoid creature who originated from the Dark Continent but somehow found her way to the Known World. Imagine the Hunter Association or the Known World Government finding out about your existence and hiring skilled Hunters and assassins to track you down and murder you before your abilities could cause any panic.

Imagine Chrollo and the Phantom Troupe catching wind of the situation that is currently being hidden from public. Chrollo, who would be instantly intrigued to track you down and see for himself what a creature from the Dark Continent is capable of and who would keep you as his most priced treasure the moment the troupe has finally found you after searching for you for a long time. Who has to share with the rest of the Phantom Troupe as your mere presence eventually gets to them too, to some sooner than to others and who notices your mild surprise that they actually work together insted of slaughtering each other, something you must be used to seeing. Chrollo, who shares with you experiences in the Known World and adores listening to your stories about the Dark Continent where you were born.

To make it even more interesting, let's assume that you are caught and kept around the time Hisoka has infiltrated the Troupe. Hisoka, the only member Chrollo doesn't trust to leave you alone and neither do any of the other members. There are usually at least two other spiders with you when Hisoka is around but the clown takes it with slightly infuriated amusement as he gives brief glances in your direction, patiently waiting for the day where he can keep you for himself. He has to give it to Chrollo after all, the man knew just how special you'd be when he decided to go after you. He can't wait to steal you away right under the nose of the criminal~

Another possible scenario would be that the Zoldyck Family is hired to hunt you down and capture you as they were informed that you are akin to an immortal being. Imagine Illumi spending months tracking you down and successfully capturing you, though that is only because you do not resist when he finds you, only to never hand you over to the government. Instead he keeps you, black eyes staring fascinated at you whenever he sees you, his cold skin tingling whenever he touches yours, his chest clenching with a sensation he can't quite grasp. He only knows one thing though. That he needs more of whatever it is he feels when he sees you and touches you.

I've already explored this world with a Tomie reader before in this post but Jujutsu Kaisen would literally be perfect because reader could literally be the enbodiment of the curse of obsession which could be used to explain her immortality. No matter how many times she is killed or even exorcised, she will be reborn for as long as people obsess over someone else, no matter how superficial or deep their feelings really are.

Suguru would be an interesting choice that I didn't talk about in the Hc's I linked since he uses Cursed Spirit Manipulation to control curses. The question would be though whether or not Suguru would be able to exorcise and consume you to enable him to gain control over you and summon you at any given time he wishes. Ironically enough a relationship with you in a scenario where you would be a curse would probably be better for you than if you were human since Suguru doesn't look down on you nor would he judge you for your nature as it is the negative emotions of humans from which you were created. You have shared with him some stories of the past where you were murdered from non-sorcerers when they lost control due to your powers and it only fawns his hatred against the monkeys. There are always sweet promises whispered into your ears that he'll never hurt you like they did and you can only wait half-interested whether or not he will remain true to those words.

We could also go way back in time to the Heian Era and simply crown you as the Queen of Curses who stood by Sukuna's side as obsession over someone else is as ancient as the concept of love in all its twisted and radiant forms itself. For a curse to be so strong that it can even influence other curses would stir Sukuna's interest, though he never expected to fall under your spell himself. He is somewhat displeased that his resistance is that weak as he has had multiple women warming his bed before he consumed them and enjoyed their flesh yet he knows that you are a being that will be reborn even if he kills you. Now that you have done it and seduced him though, he'd much rather have you pay the price for it. From now on you shall be his queen. When he is sealed away, you go into hiding. You feel no deep grief in the centuries that follow, though Sukuna has certainly been more memorable than the thousands of other people that follow him, one as bland as pathetic as the next one. It isn't until the 21st century that Sukuna is finally reincarnated into Yuji's body, thrilled and excited about this chance to finally live again. Now he only needs to find his Queen again...

As someone who just recently finished Chainsaw Man, in this universe the reader could just be a devil who has the form of a young woman. You'd probably also assume the role of the Obsession Devil in that scenario and whilst you could just be a wild devil, I think it'd be much more interesting if you actually work sort of together with the Devil Hunters without being locked away like some other devils are. It's rather rare for you to make contracts yourself even if multiple Devil Hunters have willingly offered limbs, senses and much more to you to form a contract with you as you only accept a contract if you are actually interested in a Devil Hunter. Instead you find yourself often negotiating with other devils to convince them to form contracts with Devil Hunters as your influence to make people infatuated with you even affects other devils.

Extreme femme fatale vibes and interesting scenario would be if it is Makima aka the Control Devil herself who is no exception to your abilities. What would make this so unique would simply be that Makima is, just like her devil suggests, someone who represents the fear of conquest and is a woman who is always in control, no matter the situation. That would so very much contrasts with the fear you represent since an obsession is rarely something that can be controlled and both of you are aware of her feelings she harbors for you. You have little capacity to care about people around you as years of living through the same events again and again have made you jaded towards the very idea of attachment and love but perhaps it is the uniqueness of the situation that perks your interest as she can tell that you are testing the waters with her. Are you willing to play the game with her? You should be prepared for the possible consequences if your answer is yes.

Kishibe is one of the few people who you have ever approached and asked for a contract as he caught your eye when he first joined and decades later he takes pride in the fact that he is the one you have held a contract with for the longest time. Your condition for a contract have always remained the same. The moment the Devil Hunter you were contracted to would stop being interesting to you, you wanted his heart and until that point, you would assist them whenever they desired your help. Some sane people would consider those conditions as nothing short of lunatic yet a Devil Hunter rarely survives if they do not belong to the crazy kind and the first time you approached him, he could already tell why you were as desired as you were by many Devil Hunters. Kishibe has survived for as long as he did precisely because he is a madman and that is why your interest in him hasn't faded to this day. You fulfill his every wish in this contract yet he has held himself back in comparison to some of your previous Devil Hunters, though some things are always the same. Like the few other Devil Hunters who had a contract with you, he proposed to you and it isn't the first wedding you went through yet it is the first time you have let a contract last as long to the point where both of you already had a silver wedding to celebrate 25 years of marriage. You're going to miss this one the most when his time comes...

In One Piece a reader with such mysterious abilities could of course be suspected of having eaten a Devil Fruit but I personally would like you to instead be an ancient being that, according to rumors, originated from somewhere in the New World, though nothing about you has ever been revealed. Throughout history, you have only gotten yourself involved a few times yet whenever you did, you were the demise of entire nations yet the full extent of your powers remains as shrouded in darkness as the rest of you. Only the highest-ranked people in the Marine and are even aware of your existence and the World Government has been after you ever since they were established. Not only are your powers frightening but it is also the knowledge that you hold that has made you the most dangerous being in the Grand Line.

You have watched history unfold in front of your eyes, know about the Ancient Weapons and other events that occured throughout time that no one is supposed to know, know even about the darkest secrets of the Navy and know exactly where the proof for their hidden atrocities lies that would ruin their reputation. Whilst the citizens on every island do not know of your existence, in the Grand Line exist tales of you that parents commonly tell children as bedtime stories where you are usually portrayed as a monster. You know of that but you do not care as an existence as long as yours has taught you best that you are not even remotely a human, though your appearance may fool others into thinking otherwise.

I'm not quite sure yet about individual characters in One Piece yet but since I just recently finished the Marineford Arc, I can't help but imagine that after essentially centuries of laying dormant and only being a silent watcher, you finally decide to take an active role when news of Fire Fist Ace's public execution reaches you. Your eyes and ears are everywhere, you always know what is happening in all different oceans after all, no matter how much the Navy may try to hide it from the rest of the world. Though the news of the execution are not kept as a secret this time and reach ears on every island throughout all of the seas. There are no heroic motives though as you make your way. You're just simply bored and decide that messing with the Marine, the pirates and all the people who will watch it all unfold might be amusing and provide some thrill, even if only temporary. The world is certainly going to shake when they find out that the monster from the fairy tale has always been there yet those who will be exposed to your aura on that day will probably go out of their way to chase you down, pushed by their ever-growing obsession. You do not mind. It has been way too long since you've been entertained by them after all. You're just hoping that at least a few of them will prove to be more than yet another waste of your time...

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queers-gambit · 11 months

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Tell Me Every Terrible Thing

[ part one of two ]

prompt: you embark on a secret but passionate affair with the Rogue Prince, and when his wife, Rhea Royce, passes away, he chooses you to wed next - a decision that angers his niece and changes history.

pairing: Daemon Targaryen x female!Hightower!reader only description given: red hair

fandom masterlist: House of the Dragon

word count: 5.6k+

note: what the fuck is this, Cherry? also two parts 'cause author gets carried away!

warnings: show spoilers, cursing, author has small bouts of feministic ideas, author also really likes the "little birds" storyline (let her live!), wonky brain is wonky, i think hurt and comfort, angst, very mild NSFW (brief female receiving oral), technically alternative timeline 'cause this goofy-ass author has an overactive imagination, #icanmakehimworse, another reader-episode-insert (this warning is for the fucking losers in my inbox).

part two: "Tell me every terrible thing you ever did, And Let Me Love You Anyway," - Edgar Allan Poe

"How angry do you think he'll be with me?"

You offered your best friend, The Realm's Delight, Crowned Heir to the Iron Throne, Princess Rhaenyra, a unamused, stale look. Sarcastically, you replied, "Oh, come now, Nyrie, why would your father be angry? It couldn't be because you rejected every suitor His Grace put before you, or even how you abruptly ended the tour with two months remaining. What father would be angry after that?"

She groaned, "I know, I know, you don't have to be so right all the bloody time. I just... I couldn't do it anymore, you saw what it was like," her head bowed and you knew the girl was truly overwhelmed by her 'job' picking a suitor.

"This was no easy feat to arrange, Princess," you spoke diplomatically, aware of the ship's crew dotting around the royal ship. "Our fathers went through much difficulty to ensure this tour's success, Princess, and I'd imagine neither will be thrilled by our early arrival."

"But it's just - "

"I know," you soothed with a knowing, sympathetic smile. Your arm extended around her, her head dropping to your shoulder for comfort. "In an ideal world, women would have a real say in their futures. Perhaps, that is what you're meant to do, Nyrie... Perhaps you're meant to break this wheel, give the other half of humanity a fighting chance against the men who have long suppressed us. Being heir is a monumental stereotype to shatter, but most women are not born into royalty and have nobody protecting or defending them."

She picked her head up to stare at you for a single moment, then nodded slowly, "That's a lot of pressure."

"Less if you pick a respectable man to help you lead," you advised softly, reaching to caress her cheek briefly. "You're to be Queen, Nyra, which means you need a King Consort that the common folk will respect, who will play his part in the courts to come. I know it's not ideal, my friend, but it's not meant to be - it's meant to be strategic." You paused, adding, "Similar to Ali marrying your father, yes? That was a strategic move on my father's end. Now it's up to you to chose your own match, to plot your own strategy."

"Who would you see me marry?"

"In truth? I'm unsure if anyone would fit the bill perfectly, so, I don't know who I could see you with. Definitely someone smart, though."

She only hummed, sighing deeply and making you frown. Before another word could be said, there came a distant screech that sounded all too familiar - though you refused to let it show that you knew this particular dragon's sound.

Nyra moved away from the ship's railing to stare longingly up into the sky, and about a minute later, without visible sight of any threat, Ser Criston Cole was shouting, "Take cover!"

And then, like a bird swooping to snatch a fish, a crimson dragon descended from the cover of clouds - seemingly materializing from nowhere. The large, long, slithery beast with wings knocked into the ship's main mast; jolting everyone on board enough to topple over.

You tried to stabilize the Princess, but you lost balance and dropped to your knees as Cole rushed to help Rhaenyra to her feet. When able, you looked to the sky; grinning to yourself as you recognized the retreating Blood Wyrm. Seeing the distinct form of Caraxes made you giddy with anticipation, however, that was short lived as you clocked Rhaenyra's gaze of awe and wonder.

It seems she was excited for her uncle's return, too. Though, it won't be till later that you learn the extent of her adoration.

Less than an hour later, the ship was docking and you escorted Princess Rhaenyra from aboard; her guards surrounding you both as you trekked to the Red Keep. "Just... Perhaps try to stay invisible," you advised your friend, arm-in-arm. "The King won't be pleased if you interrupt court, even just by being there. With luck, we won't be noticed."

She agreed softly, continuing on. She started fiddling with her necklace, the piece of Valyrian Steel jewelry that her uncle, Daemon, had gifted her years ago before Queen Aemma passed away. Your lover had told you the Princess was owed a piece of her Valyrian history, and since he could not gift a sword to a young lady, the necklace was chosen, crafted, and gifted.

When you returned to the Red Keep, it was just in time for court to be called to session and your friend was all too eager to join. "Nyra," you warned, hand in hers.

"It's all right," she assured, "come, it must be Daemon - "

"No, I should return to my chamber. Don't piss your father off too much," you warned her with a smirk, watching her grin in response, squeeze your hand, and then file into the Throne Room with the other members of court.

You retreated to your old room, sighing in relief when you discovered nothing was disturbed. "My Lady!" A voice gasped at the open door. You glanced over, smiling at Milah, your usual handmaiden, and opening your arms when she rushed forward. "You're not supposed to be back yet! Oh!" She tutted, looking you over. "I'll get your bed made and - "

"No, it's fine - "

"Nonsense, let me do this," she insisted, already busying around the room. "I was wondering why they were bringing things into the foyer - must be all the Princess' luggage, hmm?"

"Yeah," you sighed, helping her strip the bed and change the sheets. "It was strange," you admitted, "the men, I mean, and the way they all competed for her hand in marriage."

"Did you expect anything else?"

"I did not think they'd honestly kill one another. Though it was more so their pride than the Princess they fought over."

Milah smirked, "Sounds about right. Well, what of you? Anyone catch your eye?"

"Of course not," you sighed a little sadly.

"Still hung on the Prince, aren't you, my Lady?"

"Perhaps," you mused.

You spent the better part of an hour gossiping with Milah before she had to go grab a few things, but promised she'd send your belongings up as soon as possible. You thanked her, walked her out, assuring you were just going to get a bath or something, and just as you shut and locked your chamber door, gasped when a pair of hands seized your waist.

"Daemon!" You hissed when you saw the short, white locks of your surprise guest. "The bloody fuck is wrong with you?" You demanded, turning in his grip to shove your hands into his chest. "What're you doing here? Want to get us caught?"

"Three years," he grit, gathering you in his arms to heave upward and force your legs around his waist if you wanted to keep balance, "three fucking years I've been gone - away - missing you, do not deprive me a moment more."

"Someone will come looking," you whispered, caressing his face as your forehead met his. "And perhaps I want a moment to just look at you, 's been years," you breathed. "You cut your hair," you commented, running your hands through the short strands.

"I cut my hair," he agreed softly, just holding you close and tight.

"I like it... But I'll miss braiding it."

"I will, too," he admitted. He nuzzled closer, inhaling your neck sharply, boldly licking a flat tongue up your pulse point to make you shudder lightly.

"Daemon," you whispered, pulling his head back so you could look in his eyes, beaming, "I missed you, too."

"Viserys is arranging a lunch for my return," he informed, turning so he could approach your newly-made four-poster bed; dropping you flat on your back with a grin. "Which roughly translates into only allotting a few minutes to make up for lost time."

"We will have time later - "

"I overheard Viserys saying he and Otto intend to take evening tea with you regarding the Princess' return from tour," he eased, reaching to spread your legs, bunching your skirts. "But I will call upon you tomorrow? Yes? Officially?"

"If you insist," you teased, letting him finally descend to smash his lips against yours. In truth, you were used to his empty promises of 'calling on you officially' because of his marriage to Lady Royce, but it was his way of telling you without words that he wished it was you instead of Rhea.

Daemon groaned, melting into your form; breathing heavily. "I've missed you past words," he whispered, nuzzling your nose with his. "But for now, I just need a taste - "

"We don't have time - "

"We'll be fast. Tell me, love," he nipped your pouting lips, soothing his tongue over the puckered skin, "have you taken another in my absence?"

"Of course not," you hissed in offense.

"Good," he nodded, kissing you sweetly.

"Need I ask?"

"There were no concubines," he mused, "though, they were offered, I did not accept. So, we'll be quick - faster than quick," he promised, pawing at your undergarments and exposing your dampening cunt to his sight. "I'll take my time with you later, but for now, I need this," he all but seethed before diving tongue-first into your core.

His spit mixed with your arousal, creating a slippery mess.

"Shit," you hissed, grabbing his shorter hair as his tongue flattened to lap at your entrance, dripping in your essence. One of his hands held your thighs apart for his access, the other releasing his cock from the pair of breeches he wore. Daemon groaned at the taste of you, lapping wildly like a man starved, and stroking his bare cock in rhythm with his ministrations.

It truly took no time at all once he found your clit and sucked mercilessly, the hand holding your thighs now extended up to paw roughly at your tits. Alternating his tongue around your sloppy cunt added to your heightening pleasure, swirling his tongue as he bobbed and shook his head - making an absolute mess, and causing your climax to shatter your mind and soul.

Your legs twitched, spine curled, stomach contracted as your arms quivered from the rush of adrenaline; hand slapped over your mouth to keep your moans to a minimum. You grabbed his hair so tightly, he groaned in mock pain; legs then contracting to a suffocating grip around his ears and head while Daemon met his own end, spending in his hand whilst milking you for all you had.

He panted with satisfaction when he pulled back, grinning at you in mischief when you released your hold on him. "Good fuckin' girl," he praised, standing to his feet only to slither over top of you. "Like not a day's gone by, huh?" He whispered, kissing you messily, smearing your cum on your tongue; grinding his bare cock into your recovering core to make you shudder. "Take a moment, then get ready," he whispered. "I expect to see you at the celebrations... Wear that dress I got you for your fifth-and-twentieth nameday," he smirked, adding, "if you'd so please, my darling."

You chuckled, "You magically learned manners during the war?"

"Perhaps," he mused, pecking your lips again.

"Hey, Daemon?"

"What is it, my sweet one?" He asked, seeing the sincerity in your eyes and hearing the seriousness in your voice - something in his heart jumping.

"Would you tell me about it all later? The war, I mean? Would you tell me what you've endured?"

"I do not think it's a tale befitting a lady's ears."

"Please? I wish to know..."

"Then I will tell you," he promised, "but only if you wear that dress."

Your eyes rolled in humor as Daemon stood. You watched him wipe his cum on a spare rag, tossing it away, and after one last kiss, was leaving out of the secret passageway's door. Taking another moment, you finally stood on weak legs and unlocked the main door, preparing how you could for your day before Milah returned.

After arriving at the luncheon, you made a beeline for your father, greeting him happily before explaining your surprise reappearance. He filled you in on that day's court, explaining that Prince Daemon was back; and you felt almost guilty for the way your skin was still set ablaze from your lover's earlier visit.

For all Otto's faults, he was still your father, and you felt guilty for sneaking around with Daemon behind his back. Your father ushered you off to mingle, insisting he was only there for the King; and no, he wasn't hungry. So, you parted ways with a chaste peck to your forehead; the feeling of his scratchy beard lingering on your guilt-riddled flesh.

"Sister, what a surprise!" Alicent happily distracted by greeting you with a bright grin. You adjusted course to approach the Queen, King, and newly-returned Prince. "Oh, what a lovely dress you've chosen," she complimented with ease, reaching for your hand. "You always do have the best eye for clothes, I feel as if need you to live in my wardrobe, tell me what to wear everyday."

"Thank you, Your Grace, I'd be honored," You smiled at her, holding her hand, looking to the others. "My King," you curtsied to Viserys, glancing at Daemon and bowing your head respectfully, "my Prince, how nice to see you, again. Welcome home."

"Thank you, my Lady," he smirked. "Might I welcome you home as well? I hear you've been gone from the Capital."

You hummed with a nod, "I was on tour with the Princess, my Prince. I've only arrived home today, as well - though not by dragonback."

He eyed you up and down, offering, "I must agree with the Queen, my Lady, that is a lovely dress you've chosen."

You pet the black material, smiling genuinely, "Thank you, my Prince. It's one of my favorites."

"I can see why, given how beautiful you look," he flirted, and from behind you and Alicent, you could hear your father scoff.

"Thank you," you whispered. "What conversation did I rudely interrupt before?"

"Oh, nothing of importance," Daemon told you, looking to his brother and your sister.

"Because we spoke of how Daemon, here, was always Mother's favorite," Viserys grinned. "Do you want to know, my Lady? About how much Mother adored Daemon?" He asked you, his little brother trying to drone over him - but Viserys was determined to tell you the examples he could think of regarding his brother's favoritism.

You giggled from both Viserys' stories and Daemon's evident embarrassment.

However, almost awkwardly, on Alicent's other side, Princess Rhaenyra approached the group and stood amongst you. You knew the King must be unhappy with his daughter, but did not voice any opinion since you were not the source of disappointment at the moment. Instead, you listened to the King's complimenting words to his brother; thinking it was interesting that Daemon was so egotistical and yet, flushed under his brother's praise. Princess Rhaenyra waited until a natural lull to tell Daemon, "Congratulations on your victory."

It was awkward as Viserys just glared at her, Rhaenyra's expression falling short. Daemon covered smoothly, "Thank you, Princess."

Trying to save the tension, your sweet sister offered, "Perhaps Prince Daemon would care for a tour of the gallery? He hasn't yet seen the new tapestries gifted to you by Norvos and Qohor."

Viserys nodded and whispered, "Oh, oh," mockingly. He asked his brother, "Would you like to see the tapestries?" But by the end, he broke character and laughed with his brother; the latter who whom you knew spat on trivial things - such as tapestries and such. Through their laughter, Viserys proclaimed to his wife, "He has no interest in such things!"

"But thank you for the offer, sister," you smiled at her, trying to reassure her when her husband laughed in her face. "The tapestries are very beautiful, you've chosen a grand place to display them. I saw them on my way here."

"I'd like to see them," Rhaenyra jumped in, seemingly to Alicent's aid - something she'd not done in an age considering the tension between them. You just smiled politely, seeing the way Viserys dropped his grin when he looked at his daughter with distain while the rest of you looked away sheepishly.

"Then you should not deprive yourself."

Rhaenyra offered a pained, pursed smile, "I shall enjoy them alone."

You, Alicent, and Daemon all stared after Rhaenyra with varying degrees of pity as she walked away to sit solemnly by herself on a distant bench while Viserys went on about his and Daemon's youth; over Daemon being their mother's favorite. However, Alicent excused herself to follow the saddened Rhaenyra, perhaps to offer the Princess comfort in her father's anger. The King looked ready to protest, but instead just shook his head in disappointment.

Viserys turned you and Daemon away from the sight of the girls, showing off the Godswood in bloom; your father approaching you three stiffly. "Your Grace," he bowed to Viserys, then nodded in resepct, "my Prince. Daughter," he smiled, trying to instigate, "how was tour with Princess Rhaenyra?"

"Oh, as eventful as a Royal Tour can be," you smiled, deflecting, "though I must admit, while seemingly exciting at some parts, I'm sure it pales terribly in comparison to the Prince's adventures in the Stepstones." Viserys smirking broadly at your redirection. "I do wonder, what brought the war to an end? We've heard rumor, but surely the Prince might know for sure what brought the Triarchy down?"

"Surely," The King nodded, looking to Daemon expectedly.

The Rogue Prince smirked and readjusted his stance, deflecting, "Perhaps a conversation for later."

"Oh, come now, brother!"

"Your Grace," Otto interrupted, "I do apologize, but there are matters at hand that require your attention. The Tully's still - "

He sighed and waved your father off, "Yes, yes... Well," Viserys nodded, "I'll call upon you both later."

"Your Grace," you instantly curtsied.

"Your Grace," Daemon bowed right after. Viserys smiled and nodded back at you both, patted his brother's shoulder, turned, and when he walked away, Otto followed with a single look to you and Daemon.

"Daughter," he bid curtly - and you read between the lines. He really wanted to say, "Do not linger around the Prince."

When the King moved, his usual procession of advisors, guards, and entourage followed right after. You sighed as almost all of the Godswood cleared out, Daemon eyeing you as he readjusted his stance; subtly reaching out to pet your hand with his fingers.

"Daemon," you warned quietly.

"Nobody is watching us," he smirked. "You look beautiful, love. I'll have to buy you more dresses, you wear them so well."

"I cannot believe I will not see you tonight," you whispered with a pout.

"I will call on you tomorrow," he reminded.

You opened your mouth, but another voice answered. "Sister," Alicent called, you looking over and smiling innocently. You caught sight of Princess Rhaenyra glaring at her uncle, but didn't think much of it.

"I look forward to your tales from the Stepstones," you told him calmly, offering a curtesy.

He took your hand, pressing a soft kiss to the back, "I look forward to any time spect together, my Lady."

You hummed in contentment before stepping away, instantly taking Alicent's arm when close enough. "What was that about? Daemon looks so smitten!" She whispered with a growing grin.

"He was being polite," you whispered back, "and simply being Daemon - you know how he is. He's got three years of mischief to make up for."

"I see," she giggled. "He's quite handsome with the short hair, isn't he? It suits him well."

"I have to agree," you gossiped. "I can see why the ladies of court have missed him so."

Your younger sister giggled, smiling at you, offering, "I've missed you greatly. Come... I wish to hear of your time away."

"Oh, sister, please, I've only just returned."

"But... Wouldn't you tell me before the King?" She whispered.

You paused, then nodded, "Got me there, sister-dearest."

"We'll take tea together," she decided, leading you around the Keep until she saw a familiar face she knew. "Talya, my sister and I wish to take tea in the gardens, please. Privately, of course, so do not announce it," she directed the handmaiden. "We'll be in the gazebo in the rose gardens, bring tea, sandwiches, and my sister's always loved those peach crumbles?"

"I know the dessert," she nodded, smiling at you. "Can I interest you, Your Grace, in anything specific?"

"No, but bring enough for us both. Come, sister."

You three parted ways, Alicent leading you to the gardens as promised. She dismissed anyone in the area, even telling her guards to wait at the front hedges to give you ideal privacy while deeper in the roses at the gazebo. While sitting, you exchanged gossip about what happened while you were away, Alicent happy to catch you up because she was happy to finally have a friend, even if it were a sister, back in her corner.

You were happy, too.

While you loved Rhaenyra, the tension between her and Ali made you feel in the middle despite both parties assuring you "you weren't". Nyra was a good friend, your best, even! But it was something about your sister that was calming and assuring. She was trustworthy to a fault, but she was still your strongest pillar.

As Talya dressed your table with tea, lemon water, sandwiches, fruits, and other foods (including the peach crumbles), you giggled at Ali's retelling of whatever failed proposals occurred this past season you were away. When alone, at last, Ali turned to you in her padded chair and asked, "Tell me in truth, how was the tour? Why did you return early?"

"In truth, sister, vying men made the Princess uncomfortable. She did not need the two months more, she knew she was unhappy with the men so far presented to her."

Alicent sighed, "So, who does she intend to marry?"

"Yes," a new voice agreed, you both jumping in shock and looking up to see Viserys approaching with your father behind him. "Who does my daughter intend to wed, Lady Hightower?"

"Your Grace," you uttered, both you and Alicent standing in respect to bow your heads.

"Please, please," he permitted you both to sit, taking the lone chair across the table as your father remained standing. "I only wish for the unfiltered truth. I know what is said, I know what is reported, I know..." He sighed, "I know what my daughter might say, but please, Lady Hightower, what is the truth of it?"

"The truth, Your Grace, is that Rhaenyra was overwhelmed. Perhaps it was too long for her that she eventually, I'm not sure, shut down? She did not care towards the end which men was presented, she was overwhelmed with the options and pace at which everything moved."

"Kings and Princes before her have done the same, many Queens and Princesses embarking on their tours to find proper suitors," Otto reminded. "Why was this different, my Lady?"

"Because she is the first," you reminded. "Never before has a woman been named heir - she holds a different responsibility. Perhaps having everything thrown at her was too much, she has to filter through lesser men that would be King Consort. Nobody stood out, she became discouraged, and honestly, Your Grace?" You spoke earnestly, "I think it just made her sad. She did not want to disappoint you by choosing a man not worthy of being her King, so, she would rather face your anger in coming home early."

Alicent frowned but nodded to herself.

Otto adverted his eyes.

Viserys looked dejected, but sighed, "I see... Thank you for your words, my Lady, truly, you've always been a trustworthy advisor to the Queen, Princess, and I."

"It's the least I can do, Your Grace, since you and Queen Aemma - you - you were so kind to me when Mother passed. And Rhaenyra - to both Alicent and I - she was a true friend. I am in debt to you, Your Grace, and whatever I can do, be it just a simple different perspective, I am happy to provide."

"Well," he considered, "in the spirit of your unfiltered perspective, who would you see Rhaenyra marry?"

You blinked in shock, "Oh, Your Grace, I-I am not qualified to say."

"You serve as my Master of Whispers, do you not?" He smirked. "Speak, please."

You sighed deeply. With a small gulp, you blinked twice, then admitted, "I do not think my opinion matters, but... It would make sense to marry her to Ser Laenor Velaryon, would it not? He's a warrior who survived the Stepstones, is of Valyrian stock and blood, rides the dragon, Seasmoke. He's kind, brave, true, unmarried, heir to Driftmark. I think when it comes to filling the position of King Consort, Ser Laenor Velaryon would make a fine candidate."

Apparently, this was all Viserys needed to hear.

You could not sleep that night. You could not explain why, but something foul was in the air and prevented you from drifting off. So, you chose to browse your private library, select a literary favorite, and stroll the deadened halls of the Red Keep; reading by flickering torch light.

Good thing you were up and out, because one of your Little Birds chirped at you from the shadows. You looked around to see nobody in the hall, but another chirp directed your attention to a darkened alcove. "Hmm, oh, Kaela," you hummed, approaching her slowly and bending at the waist. "What is it, child?"

"I came as fast as I could."

"What's wrong?"

"I've seen something - something you'll want to know," she glanced up and down the hall, "but not anyone else."

"Come," you whispered, pushing her further back into the dark and sheltering yourselves safely. Once knelt before her, you asked the child, "All right. What is it you have seen, little one?"

"Do not get angry, my Lady..."

"I promise I won't," you spoke softly, confused - you never got angry at your Little Birds... Why start now?

"I-I saw... I saw the Prince Daemon and... Princess Rhaenyra."

You nodded slowly, asking quietly, "Where?"

"In the city, in a pleasure house."

You blinked, "And what were they doing?"

"What grown-ups do."

"I see. They were coupling?"

She shrugged, "No, just kissing, but it stopped fast. He left her there."

"He left her there? In the pleasure house?"

The little girl nodded. "The Prince looked sad... When the Princess tried to kiss him again, he pulled away... Then he left."

"Where did he go? After?"

She blinked, frowning, "My brother, Grenn, said he saw him at the pubs - but he was always on the move, very drunk. I came here right away."

"Good girl," you smiled, offering her whatever Gold Dragons from the pouch you usually kept on your person under your robe for times like this. "Where will you be tomorrow evening? I will bring you and Grenn supper."

She smiled, "We can meet you at the dock!"

"The dock?"

"He likes watching the boats."

"The docks, then. By the Fisherman's Pier?"

"No, Grenn like the Harper's Pier. They're not there around supper, they're still out at sea."

"Harper's Pier for supper," you agreed. "Go on."

The little girl looked around before scampering off down a different passageway and you stood from your knelt position with a stony look of tentative contemplation on your face. With a deep breath, you did the only thing you thought you could... You went to your father.

With a rapid knock at his chamber door, it took a moment or two before he was opening it - still dressed. "What is it, daughter?" He asked gruffly. "It's late, this should wait till morning."

"The castle is about to wake - "

"I know and I've much to attend to - "

"Father," you hissed, glancing up the hall.

He sighed and let you in, "What is it?"

"I carry scandalous news," you muttered, his door's lock echoing around you. "About the Princess Rhaenyra."

He turned to you sharply, you taking a step back in surprise. "You... Know?"

"About her sneaking around in a pleasure house?"

Otto frowned, "Do you know with who?"

You could not tell him, so you answered, "No, just that she was seen in disguise."

"Who told you this?"

"One of my Birdies."

"All right," he decided, nodding to himself, "thank you, daughter, for reporting this. I will... I will figure out what to say to the King."

"Should you say anything?"

"I'll figure it out - but now we both know."

You nodded, "So you knew before I came?"

"I was awoken an hour ago to hear this news."

You nodded slowly, "Then I will leave you to it."

"Thank you," he whispered, letting you peck his cheek in parting before slipping out of his chambers. With nothing left to do or anything else to say, you went back to your chambers as to limit your exposure to the castle's tenants.

The less that could say they saw you this night, the better.

Once safe in your chambers with a locked main door, you could do nothing else but (over)think, wishing to all the Seven Gods you didn't know what you knew. Information and knowledge was vital to maintain power, this is true, but it also made you dangerous - also a target. The more you knew, the bigger the target.

It was only a few hours after dawn when the secret passage doors to your chamber opened. You were braiding your hair, ignoring the man you knew to have the only balls to use that door - especially now.

"I've always wondered, if we had children, would they have white hair or waves of fire, like you? Perhaps something between?"

"Fuck off, Daemon."

"So, you've heard," he sighed deeply. "Won't you even look at me?"

"I can't stand the very thought of you right now, nor the actual sound, I'll lose my stomach if I have to look at you."

"Let me tell you the truth," he begged, "before I have to leave the Keep, let me tell you the truth. Let Viserys and everyone have their ideas and opinions, their lies and slander, but let me tell you!"

"Excuse me?" You asked, whirling around in your seat to glare at him fully. "Viserys banished you, again?"

"He did... Back to the Vale."

You scoffed, "Good... Your Lady wife awaits you."

"Viserys thinks I've sullied Rhaenyra's virtue. I do not need you thinking the same, so, please, let me tell you what happened - no matter how uncomfortable, please, let me tell you the truth."

"What difference does it make?"

"I can't have you thinking something more occurred. Was I tempted? Yes, but I refrained. Did I touch her? A little - but not how you think."

You sighed, shaking your head, "I don't care, you're returning to your wife in the Vale, and I will be rid of you. No matter for how long this time, you will be gone - "

"For a time, yes, but I intend to return for you."

"No, I think I'll let Father make me a match. I despised the North, it was too cold, so the handsome Cregan Stark is out. I don't mind Dorne, perhaps a Martel to marry? Or even a Tully of Riverrun?"

"Do not speak such atrocities to me."

"You're one to talk! Your niece, Daemon? The girl I consider my closest friend? You couldn't just find that whore you like and be satisfied with her? Couldn't wait a single day, could you? Huh? How fucking pathetic!"

"Perhaps you are not as close with Rhaenyra as you thought," he tisked, making you feel disarmed. He spent the next hour and a half explaining to you what happened the previous night, and despite your disgust, you just listened.

Knowledge was power.

"I will return," he sighed at the end, "and in that time, you can make your own decisions if you want me or not. But I will return and I will have you, if you will have me, and this foolishness will be behind us."

"I'll give you a single year. I will not wait for you longer than that," you whispered, tears streaming down your face. "I can't stand that you've done this, but I will wait one single year for you to find a way out of your marriage and back to me. Any longer than that, and I will simply move on. I do not want to live my whole life in the Red Keep, and the truth of it is, I cannot live in the Princess' shadow any longer. One year, Daemon."

"One year," he nodded, stepping closer. "My love, please - "

"Do not assume to touch me. Not after you've touched her," you snapped, stepping away. "Get out, I need to be alone, you have been banished - you need to go, you cannot be seen here." Your eyes rolled, muttering, "Probably have to go collect your whore for this banishment, too."

"Not this time," he smirked, "this time, I leave with my promise that I will return for you, my sweet Lady Hightower."

"Fuck off, you perverted Prince Daemon," you sassed, watching him slip out the door; shutting you in an echoing silence. Your heart ripped itself apart, making you wonder what the fuck you had done to deserve getting caught in such a scandalous affair. But you knew, in your heart, you'd do anything for Daemon - the thought sickening your stomach as you pondered how far this would all go.

requesting rules and masterlist

HOTD masterlist

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callsign-rogueone · 4 months

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together

platonic! Xaden x gn!reader x Garrick words: 1.3k 🏷: prequel flashback that contains mild fourth wing and iron flame spoilers, 17-18 y/o Xaden and Garrick and gender neutral reader who was their childhood friend (this could be angel, but I purposely left it vague) hurt/comfort, reader dressing Xaden's wounds and brief mentions of blood, tears, fluffy ending (who doesn’t love a good old fashioned friendship cuddle/nap pile?)

The knock on the door of the room you’ve been assigned pulls your focus away from the book in your hands that you haven’t really been reading, just looking at the pages absentmindedly; you can’t bring yourself to enjoy it, not with everything else going on around you.

You know it’s Xaden from the rhythm -- he’s using the secret knock you and Garrick had come up with as children; the same basic pattern, ending with one tap for him, two for Garrick, three for you, and four for Bodhi; your age order.

“Come in,” you call.

You aren’t expecting him to look so dejected, his shoulders slumped and head hung, looking utterly defeated, shirt off, held limply in his hand. “Talk to me,” you say gently, immediately concerned.

“I’d do it myself, but I can’t see them,” he says quietly, turning to show you the bloody cuts covering his back.

Your jaw drops. There has to be…

“One hundred and seven,” he answers before you can ask. One for each of you. They’d turned a respected tradition for marriage and parenthood into a punishment, carving into his skin over and over, deep enough to make sure it would scar.

“Oh, Xay…” you breathe, stunned.

“I cut a deal. We’re safe,” he responds. “All of us. But we’ll be forced into lives of service to the crown as dragon riders.”

You don’t fully process the terms, too busy digging around for a first aid kit. There’s one in nearly every room of this house, a military protocol that his father had taken quite seriously.

He sits on the edge of the bed and hunches forward, resting his elbows on his knees and lowering his head as you work in silence, cleaning and disinfecting all of the cuts as delicately as you can, but he still flinches away from the sting of the alcohol against his raw skin.

“I’m almost done,” you promise.

He doesn’t respond. You don’t expect him to; he’s never been particularly chatty, but you know there’s a storm brewing behind those dark eyes right now, but you’ll be there for him when it starts.

You coax him to sit up a bit so you can wrap the gauze, wrapping him in it from shoulder to waist to cover all of the cuts, and helping him put his shirt back on.

The pain of getting his arms through the sleeves is the last straw -- he finally starts to cry.

You know hugging him would just cause him more pain, and you can’t stroke his back, not wanting to put any pressure on the torn skin, so you settle for petting his hair, smoothing your fingers through the dark strands and gently rubbing the back of his neck to relax him.

“C’mere,” you coax, leaning back against the headboard and setting a pillow in your lap.

With a soft sound of discomfort, he shifts his weight down, resting his head on your lap and wrapping his arms around your waist, clinging to you tightly. His body shakes with sobs as his fingers dig into your skin, and you feel like your heart has been ripped in two.

You‘ve only seen Xaden cry once before, when you were ten, and his mother’s marriage contract expired, giving her the right to leave Tyrrendor and leave Xaden’s life forever, disappearing without a trace. You’d held him like this then, too, let him sob into the collar of your shirt and spent the rest of that day sitting with him and Garrick in near-silence, trying not to cry over the loss yourselves, needing to be strong for your friend.

His mother had always been kind to the three of you. She’d loved Xaden dearly, and appeared to tolerate Fen, with no obvious signs that she wanted to leave, but nonetheless, she’d taken the chance and ran with it, literally. It remained unclear if Xaden had gotten to say goodbye — he likely hadn’t, given the extent of his distress, probably hearing the news from his father before he ran to find the pair of you.

You realize now that it might not have been her decision, that Fen might have asked her to leave. But you’ll never know for sure — he, along with your parents, is lost to you forever.

You don’t tell him it’s okay, because it isn’t, but you need to say something, to acknowledge his pain and the sacrifice he’d just made for you and all of your friends, for people neither of you have even met.

“I know it hurts, X,” you soothe, stroking a hand through his dark locks as he continues to sniffle quietly. “I’m so sorry they made you do that. I’m sorry for everything. You didn't deserve any of it. None of this was your fault."

The door opens with a soft creak, Garrick stepping inside. His eyes widen at the sight of Xaden still trembling, clinging to you and crying, which is disturbing enough in itself, without the open first aid kit on the nightstand next to you and the pile of bloody cotton balls that you’d used to clean his wounds.

“Uallach,” you whisper. Responsibility.

Garrick puts it together quickly enough — Xaden was forced to take the traditional cuts for all of you. He sits beside you both on the arm of the couch, quiet. “I’m so sorry, Xay,” he says softly, brushing a hand over the other boy’s shoulder, careful not to nudge the bandages.

Xaden adjusts his hold on you, reaching out with one arm — the one bearing the same relic you’re all stuck with now, that smoky black pattern that covers the skin — wincing at the way the motion tugs the cuts on his back. He takes Garrick’s hand in his, holding it silently, a gesture with multiple meanings; a bid for comfort, wanting to have his best friends close, but also a reminder that the three of you are in this together, and an apology; in his deal with the general to save your lives, he’d been forced to agree to all one hundred and seven of you enrolling in Basgiath war college as dragon riders — a death sentence of its own.

“We’ll all be okay,” Garrick promises softly. “We’ll heal, and we’ll adapt, and get through it all, together.”

Xaden’s tears have dried, leaving him with a headache and that hollow feeling you get after a thorough cry. He feels heavier against you, a sign that he’s drifting toward sleep. Good. Rest will help him heal, and give him a break from this exhaustion.

Garrick takes a pillow from the other side of the bed, motioning for you to sit up a little. You move incredibly carefully, not wanting to disturb Xaden in his delicate state, but thankfully he doesn’t seem bothered by it, too worn out to notice or care as Garrick places the pillow behind your back to make you more comfortable.

“How are you feeling?” he asks quietly.

“Tired,” you answer.

“We could all use some sleep,” he concedes, kicking off his boots and shrugging off his jacket, cuddling up against the both of you.

You hum in agreement, fighting a yawn. You haven’t been able to rest much this week, constantly working to take care of the younger children, and the sleep you did get has been plagued by nightmares of the days prior — you’re exhausted.

You hope Xaden’s dreams will be kind to him — he looks peaceful, still breathing steadily.

“Get some rest,” Garrick says softly. “Tomorrow will be a new day, and we can start figuring all of this out then.”

You let your eyes drift shut, leaning your head against his muscled shoulder. You’re all going to be sore when you wake up from sleeping like this, bar Xaden, who looks perfectly comfortable where he’s curled up between you like an overgrown puppy.

Garrick is right. The three of you will get through this, together.

#garrick and angel #xaden riorson #garrick tavis #fourth wing #xaden riorson x reader #garrick tavis x reader #fourth wing x reader #mine

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autismcatboy · 17 days

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i hear the sunspot is a story about being human first, disabled second and a bl third. it doesnt flow like a bl and has very brief moments of romance because its not intended to be read/watched a romance.

the mangaka did not write it as a BL because she herself wasnt even familiar with it as a genre until after she started publishing. she was writing a story that just happens to also feature queer romance.

the live drama is not going to end with them getting together. its an adaption of just one series within the story and even at the most current series, they only barely got together.

the story is not unrealistic in how it handles communication (or lack thereof). its a lot easier to judge characters (and people in real life) when you think you have all the pieces, but the reality is we know very little about how others truly feel and when you have a lot going on and pulling you in different directions, its hard to know it yourself.

continued below the cut, spoiler free.

taichi and kohei are busy adults. between work/school, family and personal health, they dont have a lot of free time. many people dont have ways to contact friends they made in school because usually, you just see each other and dont think about exchanging contact information until later.

exchanging contact information is a bigger step to take in japan compared to places like the us. taichi uses a flip phone until hes pushed to get a smartphone after it breaks. data plans are expensive and many are selective about when and how they use them, and chatting apps like line are usually the main form of communication method. many people in the us dont like to give out their number or social media (which is also a feature of line) to people they know, like coworkers or classmates.

theres some pretty big assumptions about japanese culture and what its like to be a young adult by fans watching the drama that, in my opinion, just arent realistic. you're thinking like a bl fan and not like what people actually do in real life.

i hear the sunspot is a story about navigating the awkward, the hardships, fumbling and coming to terms with the things we may not like about ourselves. this isnt just about being disabled. able bodied, fully healthy people have things they dont like, push off and ignore. we see this in taichi, and how he continues to push that hes happy, nothing is wrong, he's just a big goofball and doesn't have anything below the surface and a lot of you have fallen for it.

relationships rarely go "we met, we fell in love, and now we are together and everything is perfect with only mild and entertaining drama." in fact id say they almost never do. people get scared to get close to other people, people dont think about if their feelings are romantic love or not when theyve never considered they might be gay. people get busy and distract themselves from addressing the things theyre not ready to look at and understand. all of these things happen much more often and often subconsciously, too.

people are mean and bullheaded when they feel like their comfort zone is threatened. people *run* when they feel like their status quo might change and they dont know what that will look like.

its easy to say someone is being ridiculous when you dont have their full story or dont stop to consider their circumstances. will it be different from how you'd react? absolutely. you lived a different life and had different experiences shape who you are.

but its equally as ridiculous to assume you know exactly how you'd react better than someone in their situation. no one is perfect, and definitely not 20 something year olds figuring out how to be adults after tough moments completely changed their childhoods. your early 20s, especially, is about thinking youre an adult and realizing just how little you know about adulthood. its easy to look back on when i was taichi and kohei's ages and say "oh there is a /lot/ that i fucked up with and couldve done better".

i hear the sunspot is about being human. the mistakes, the drama, the pain and the laughter. it happens to also have a gay love story but its not written to *be* a gay love story or even to be any love story in the first place.

if youre not willing to wait, and consider all the troubles that come before and during their relationship, this is not the story for you. save yourself the time, its got a long way to go. maybe come back in a few more years and see if the story resonates differently.

theyre not going to dive right into a relationship when they still barely know themselves.

#i hear the sunspot #hidamari ga kikoeru #catboy speaks #long post #ok to reblog

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love-me-a-lotta-whump · 3 months

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Destiny - Whump List - 🇯🇵

Whumpee: Nogi Masaki played by Kamenashi Kazuya

Synopsis: Nishimura Kanade works as a prosecutor in the Yokohama District Public Prosecutors’ Office. Her boyfriend is Okuda Takashi, who works as a doctor, and they live together. One day, one of her law school classmates, who disappeared after the death case, appears in front of her. Nishimura Kanade must confront the suspicious death case from her law school days. This leads her to examine the truth behind her father’s death from 20 years ago and also the secret faces of her friends. (MDL)

Genre/Tags: Mystery, Cop/Crime, Self Sacrifice, Romance, Chronic/Terminal Illness, Arrested, Restrained, Collapse

Watch On: Netflix (Original), KissAsian, DramaCool

WARNING: POSSIBLE SPOILERS BELOW

1.01 : scared, asked if he wants to die with someone, in a speeding car, scared, angry, heavy breathing ::: concern for him ::: in the hospital, asleep, bandaged face ::: in the hospital, upset ::: arm bandaged

1.02 : in the hospital ::: emotional ::: angry, hit, emotional

1.03 : anxious ::: scolded (just takes it), heartbroken ::: emotional

1.04 : childhood trauma reveal, (traumatic flashbacks: nearly killed in a car wreck) ::: telling someone about what happened to him, (traumatic flashbacks: emotional, angry, asked if he wants to die with someone, in a speeding car, scared, angry, heavy breathing, struggling to stop the driver), emotional, blaming himself, crying ::: trauma reveal, concern for him, emotional ::: examined by a doctor, mild pain, revealing he has cancer

1.05 : someone asked if he’d lost weight ::: emotional, collapsed (heard but not shown), found on the floor writhing in pain, concern for him, wincing, groaning, held, heavy breathing ::: helped to walk, weak, helped to sit in a wheelchair, holding his side, heavy breathing ::: laying in a hospital bed ::: heartbroken, IV ::: loved one told that he’s critically ill

1.06 : interrogated ::: in cuffs ::: in cuffs, interrogated, in a depressed state ::: in a cell ::: interrogated, emotional, anxious, concern for him ::: concern for him ::: unconscious in his cell, vomited blood (only aftermath shown) ::: loved one told about his condition, concern for him ::: in the hospital, asleep ::: loved one told he’ll die soon if he doesn’t get surgery ::: asleep in the hospital, looked after, woke up, feeling awful, concern for him, emotional

1.07 : in the hospital, looked after, weak ::: asked if he was in pain, tired, laying his head on her shoulders, heavily lidded eyes, (very clearly feeling unwell) ::: sleeping on the bus with his head on her shoulder ::: feeling unwell, concern for him, emotional, shaky breathing, losing consciousness, passed out, concern for him, shaky breathing ::: asleep, concern for him, tired ::: called out for hurting himself because of his trauma ::: emotional, asked to not die ::: arrested, in handcuffs ::: in a wheelchair, asked if he felt unwell ::: in a cell

1.08 : concern for him, (flashbacks: unconscious in a cell, having just thrown up blood) ::: interrogated, (flashbacks: angry, nearly killed in a car crash, in the hospital, angry), told he has to be admitted to the hospital (concern for him)

1.09 : concern for him, near tears (brief) ::: in the hospital, IV ::: rolled through the hospital, anxious ::: asleep in a hospital bed, woke up, hooked up to some machines, looked after, crying ::: crying

———+———

MORE WHUMP LISTS >>> {x}

#whump #asian whump #whump list #whumplist #asianwhump #jwhump #jdrama #destiny #destiny Netflix

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lee-lucius · 10 months

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Fatherly Love

Summary: Zeff isn't used to dealing with kids, especially not one like Sanji.

Word Count: 5,630

Warning: Mild spoilers for Sanji and Zeff's backstory (The Baratie Arc)

There is nowhere near enough content for Sanji and Zeff, and I had to do something about. I've only seen the live action and started reading the manga (hopefully it isn't too ooc 😅), but I'm already unreasonably attached to these two. Anyway, I hope you enjoy! 💙

Zeff never saw it as anything complicated. When they finally did get off that godforsaken rock, Sanji had nowhere to go. And, well, he'd already given up a leg for the boy; he didn't see why he shouldn't give up piracy as well.

So they started over. Neither of them were ready to give up the sea, not until they found the All Blue, and Zeff always enjoyed sharing a meal. So they opened Baratie.

Maybe it wasn't the best place for a kid to grow up, on a ship full of angry brutes, but the little eggplant got on well enough with the crew—Zeff made sure of that—and he seemed content enough. At least, better than he had been after their rescue. It wasn't perfect, but it wasn't horrible, either.

But there were still moments that shattered their illusion of peace, like right now. Sighing, Zeff pulled off his sheets, slowly sitting up and slipping his legs off the bed, taking a moment to steady himself. It wasn't as easy as it'd been in his younger years. He didn't think he'd ever get used to the wooden leg, or the little eggplant's muffled cries that kept him up almost every night.

It was odd, considering what a deep sleeper Zeff had been when he was younger, but it was almost as if he had a sixth sense for when Sanji needed him; when he'd wake up, shivering and sobbing over his latest nightmare, Zeff woke up as well, lumbering over to his room to provide what little comfort he could for a boy who'd been through far too much.

Knocking lightly, he waited for Sanji's muffled consent before entering and closing the door softly behind him. He didn't know why he'd bothered giving Sanji his own room when Zeff spent the night there more often than not. Something about a growing boy needing his privacy; how simple he thought it'd be.

"Just me," Zeff said, as if they both weren't already used to this routine. It still made something stir uncomfortably in his chest every time, seeing Sanji's small figure curled up in his bed, blankets huddled around him like a faulty shield, head tucked into his chest to hide his tear-stained face, though Zeff still saw the way his shoulders trembled and heard the pained, hiccuping gasps Sanji tried to hide.

Zeff didn't say anything else. There was no reason to bombard the boy with pointless questions, especially when it only seemed to send him slipping further into a panic.

He never knew what he was supposed to do in situations like this. He liked to think his presence helped; after all, he was the only who'd been there with Sanji, though Zeff thought his issues began with something long before the shipwreck, and Sanji never stopped letting him in. But he'd never quite been a smooth talker, save for with women, and always found himself tongue-tied in situations like these. Zeff wasn't one for emotions, and Sanji was perhaps the most emotional boy he'd ever known.

There wasn't much to do besides perch on his bed, sitting as far away from Sanji as possible to give him space, and frown, trying to act as if his heart wasn't ripping in two at each muffled cry.

It must have been an especially bad night. Zeff realized that as his cries slowly quieted and his small, trembling frame steadily inched closer. Finally, Sanji's knee, barely a fraction of the size, touched his own. He was tense, more than before, and skittish, as if any wrong move from Zeff could send him running. It probably would. So Zeff did nothing, allowing Sanji his own time to decide.

They'd never been affectionate with each other. Zeff had never been affectionate with anyone, really, except for in the brief way that sailors met with women, something as intimate as these moments with Sanji but in an entirely different way.

Zeff had only ever used his body for that and fighting, which only made this harder. It wasn't like the other times Samji had reached out for him, right after the rock, or even in the midst of it, when he threw himself at Zeff in a moment of reckless grief, while Zeff wrapped his arms around him, trying to offer comfort in a way he didn't know how.

This was different. Slower. Intentional. Calculated, even.

It wasn't a helpless boy blindly reaching out to soothe the ache in his heart, but it was a helpless boy reaching out to him.

Sanji wanted him.

Zeff waited. Sanji continued to creep closer until he leaned into Zeff's side, and finally, slowly, gently, slower and gentler than he ever thought he could be, Zeff wrapped his arm around him, pulling Sanji into a hug.

Sanji buried his face in his chest, his own clumsy arms wrapping around Zeff, clutching handfuls of his shirt as if he was afraid to let go, afraid this would end.

"You're alright now," he said, voice gruffer, and a bit more emotional, than he intended. He lifted one hand, stroking his hair, the other rubbing his back, trying to remember what soothed him all those long years ago when he was a boy. "That's over. You're alright."

Sanji held onto him all night, crying until he finally slipped back into sleep, and Zeff stayed there, awake and cursing the growing ache in his back, until it was time for morning prep, when he shook Sanji awake, squeezing his shoulder one last time before leaving him to get ready for the day.

Neither of them spoke about what happened.

They barely spoke at all, save for a mini-screaming match when Zeff tried to drown Sanji's dish in oregano before it was sent out to his patrons.

It was a busy day, but at least they had had a functioning waitstaff for once—thank god for small mercies. Zeff didn't have the time to babysit Sanji, not anymore than usual, when he had to try and keep the rest of his rowdy crew in line, though he figured the reason at least half of their customers were there was in hopes of seeing the rumored fighting pirates.

There was hardly even a moment for him to sit down, rest his leg and back, and get some shut eye, though the sips of alcohol he savored between the lunch and dinner rushes helped.

But at the end of the day, he was more drunk on exhaustion than anything else, practically stumbling over his feet as he stalked through the kitchen, ensuring every surface and every dish was up to his standards. On days like these, the last day before they hauled up their anchor and moved on, his men tended to get lazy, a problem he could never solve no matter how many times he yelled at them. Except for one, who shared his dutiful dedication to maintaining a clean kitchen.

"Shouldn't you be heading off?" Zeff asked, glancing at Sanji as he silently swept the floors. "A growing boy needs his rest."

"I could say the same. Doesn't a shitty old man need his beauty sleep?"

He grunted. They both knew why he was so tired, and they both knew why Sanji didn't want to go to sleep, but they both said nothing. Didn't matter much tonight, anyway. They could both sleep in, supposing Sanji managed to stay asleep for once. Zeff put a kettle on the stove. Tea usually helped Sanji get through the night.

"Come here, kid," he called, after the tea was brewed. Sanji always preferred it sweeter, so he added a dollop of sugar and spoonful of honey, while he added something a little stronger to his.

Zeff kicked a stool in his direction, and he sat down, gratefully taking the mug that came along with it and enjoying a long sip.

"Not as shit as usual," he said, which was about as good a compliment as any, coming from him.

Leaning against the counter next to him, Zeff took a much needed drink of his own, glaring down at him. "You don't need to help me down here every night. Not that you're much help."

"'Not much help'? I'm the only reason people come to this shithole!"

"Mm. Are you then?" He didn't have the energy for this now. Damn kid.

"I'm the only half-decent chef you have!"

Zeff would never understand where his arrogance came from, not that it was entirely unwarranted. He had made Sanji his sous-chef for a reason, and it wasn't just his fondness for him.

"And who's the one that taught how to make those fancy little dishes, eggplant?"

"It doesn't matter when you drown everything in oregano."

"It's a delicacy!"

"It's for savages!" He slammed his empty mug on the counter, his one visible eye glaring daggers at Zeff, who had to resist the urge to laugh. It'd be a good few years before Sanji got anywhere close to intimidating him.

"You're too young. Palate hasn't developed yet," he waved him off, collecting his glass to wash it in the sink. No need making the kid do it, not when he was practically about to fall off his stool.

"No, you're too old. Can't taste shit anymore."

Zeff rolled his eyes. He didn't know why he always started a fight. Just his attitude, he supposed. He had to take in a kid with the worst personality imaginable. And it didn't help that he was eerily similar to how Zeff had been at that age.

"I can still see well enough, and you're done for the night."

Sanji stumbled to his feet, knowing he was right but not wanting to agree with him. "You look worse than I do."

"Mhm. Then let's both get to bed," he said, because Sanji was right too, and he couldn't bother to keep up with any more banter.

Nudging him in the back, Zeff wasn't prepared for Sanji's violent flinch that almost sent him toppling over. He resisted his instinct to reach out and steady him, figuring that would only make things worse. Instead, Sanji's fingers dug into the countertop, clutching it so hard his knuckles paled, and he turned towards Zeff, eyeing him wearily.

They stared at each other for a moment, silent, before Zeff sighed.

"Go on. Up to bed."

Sanji only nodded and trudged along. Zeff supposed they hadn't made as much progress as he thought. He'd have to be more careful next time.

Zeff always preferred days when Baratie was sailing. As much as he enjoyed the regular hustle and bustle, serving whatever customers had washed up that day, he enjoyed these quiet moments more.

It was good, standing on deck and watching the ship bob in the water, breathing in the sea breeze that was never the same when they were stagnant. He craved the movement, the sailing. And the quiet. Which made him feel like the old man Sanji always insisted he was. As if he was coaxing into retirement and savoring easy days on the sea.

But there was never anything easy on Baratie.

After he'd assembled his men to yell at them about their lazy behavior yesterday and lack of respect, they were dismissed and shuffled out of the kitchen, grumbling among each other but knowing better than to stand up to Zeff.

They'd be really punished later, but a light scalding was enough for now. Especially when he had other plans.

Sanji crept into the kitchen, eagerly buzzing around with a frantic energy Zeff rarely saw. That was another good thing about it. On days like these, Sanji was more excited than Zeff had ever seen him.

It was like there was finally life in the kid. His cheeks flushed, eyes bright, and joy palpable. He couldn't shut up either. The whole time he was rambling, trying to spew out his mess of ideas all at once that had been building up in his head since the last time they did this.

It really wasn't anything that special, and it always led to more than one argument between them, but Sanji liked to offer his input to these menu changes, even when most of his ideas consisted of trite, over-inspired pieces of shit. Though Sanji felt the same way about most of Zeff's dishes.

After gathering up all of his ingredients and managing to form his ramblings into something coherent, Sanji prepared his sample dishes with Zeff watching closely, correcting his mistakes or suggesting alternate techniques. Sanji was always surprisingly receptive to his advice, though he was always an enthusiastic student, and Zeff thought he preferred it when they were alone like this. Even if he still protested oregano coming anywhere near his food. Damn rebellious kid.

It took the entire day and only two fights that escalated so far Zeff worried Sanji would grab the knife on the cutting board and stab him, which was better than usual. They'd sampled enough dishes that neither of them were hungry, nor the rest of the crew, not when they called in a member or two for a third opinion, or a witness when their fights got especially heated.

The kitchen was a mess, but it wasn't their problem. Zeff wanted to head in early, and his crew had to be punished for their mess yesterday, so making them deal with disaster was only fair. With all of them working together, it wouldn't take too long anyway, unless they got into a fight—no, until they got into a fight, forcing Zeff to straighten them out again.

But until then, he pulled Sanji with him above deck to relax for a change.

The sun was already beginning to set; the sky fading into a pinkish-reddish color as Zeff sat down to watch it. Now he really was acting like an old man. Maybe he should start thinking about retirement.

He glanced at Sanji, but he seemed to be enjoying himself as well, even with something as simple as this. It seemed they both savored these little, simple moments.

Now would be a good time to continue their other training. Zeff had been teaching the boy to fight, only simple moves so far, though their progress was slowed by Zeff's own efforts to adjust to his new leg. But it was late, and they were both tired, even if yesterday was one of Sanji's better nights. He'd put it off for another day.

Zeff was so absorbed by his thoughts that he almost didn't register the movement in the corner of his eye. Not until Sanji was noticeably closer to him.

It was different this time. Maybe it was because of his excitable attitude today, or maybe he was starting to feel just a bit more at ease around him, but Sanji, in one quick, casual motion, pressed into Zeff's side, leaning against him.

His body was stiff, no matter how nonchalant he tried to act, and when Zeff looked at him closely enough, he could see the slight shake in his hands. It took a few minutes before Sanji began to relax, his tense muscles easing into the touch, and in another act of courage, he leaned his head against Zeff's shoulder.

He was warm. That was the first thing Zeff noticed. He wasn't used to being touched like this. Besides Sanji's fits after his nightmares and consoling his men who managed to survive the battle but not much afterwards, he hadn't been this close to someone since he was a child. Even then, no one ever reached out to him, curling up beside him the way Sanji did.

It was oddly comfortable, and Zeff found himself enjoying the affection more than he should. This was something he never could've imagined, not at his age.

While he never disliked children, he'd never been particularly fond of them either. And as much as he respected women, he never found one that interested him; no men either, so he never imagined settling down with someone, starting a family, not when his first love was cooking. But here he was, with Sanji. And he couldn't deny his growing affection for the boy, even if he was as rude and shitty as most of the grown men Zeff knew and more traumatized and disturbed than any child should be. He couldn't be sure—it was something he'd never experienced before—but Zeff thought his affection must have been something like that a father felt for his child.

It was a troubling thought that was becoming more persistent, and he had no clue if Sanji felt the same, but that was a problem for another time.

Now, it didn't matter. He simply shifted, leaning his own head against Sanji's to reciprocate the touch and imagined the nervous smile on the kid's face that he must've been fighting so hard to hide.

Maybe this had gone too far, Zeff realized, far, far too late to do anything about it.

It started simple enough.

Sanji had always been a fidgety kid, a fact that Zeff and practically anyone who knew him more than an hour could realize. He was never still, always moving, always squirming. And clumsy, too. He was prone to tripping over his own feet, something that their training had made marginally better so far, but Zeff still held onto the hope that he'd fall out of it with age when the rest of his body grew into his long legs.

Zeff didn't mind; truly, he found it more entertaining than anything else to see the boy bounce around the kitchen. It never interfered with his work, Sanji was far too professional for that, but there were times when Sanji's body moved and fidgeted around so quickly Zeff swore his limbs would fly off, and Sanji swore that he'd die of boredom if something didn't change.

So Zeff came up with a solution. A rather practical one, he liked to think. Instead of twiddling with his fingers or tugging at the strings of his apron or furiously flapping his hands, Zeff, like a practical seaman, taught him how to tie knots. Figured it'd pay off, considering how much of his life the boy spent on a ship.

He'd bring him up to the deck, show him the ropes and give a brief explanation, then show him how to tie every knot just right and send him off with a smaller scrap to practice.

It seemed to help, though they never talked about such things. Sanji simply practiced his knots, asking Zeff when he wasn't sure if he'd gotten it right, and he'd whip it out and practice anytime he got bored, during lulls between the dinner and lunch rush or at night, in bed, when he was trying to fall asleep.

Zeff didn't know how it ended up like this. He'd noticed Sanji's habit, how he'd begun to unconsciously twist strands into his complicated knots, like his apron or the loose fibers on his cheap blanket. It'd escalated fast.

Sanji must've known it would be another bad night, because he didn't bother going to his own room, instead silently teetering after Zeff to stay with him. He didn't like to be alone on bad nights.

There hadn't even been any sign of it, any indication; he simply leveled a heavy stare at Zeff and not asked, ordered him.

"Stay still. I need to try something."

"What are you planning?" He asked warily, recognizing that glint in Sanji's eye that was only there when he got up to mischief, an occasion that was becoming less and less rare.

"Quiet. I need to focus."

Then Sanji was sitting cross-legged in front of him as Zeff sat, back pressed against the headboard. He had to lean down an uncomfortable amount for Sanji to, much to his horror, reach his mustache as he began working on whatever convoluted idea he had.

Zeff wasn't sure what he was doing, as his eyes were firmly closed—and Sanji began yelling at him anytime he so much as tried to peak them open—but it seemed as if Sanji was styling his hair, hands working with a surprising gentleness and expected hurriedness, though it seemed as if his rush ruined his work, judging his heaving sigh every few minutes as he straightened out Zeff's mustache to start over. Always a perfectionist.

It was annoying, like Sanji always was, but Zeff found he didn't mind the intrusion as much as he thought he should. Not that or the tedious ache once again spreading through his back or the feeling of pins-and-needles in his legs that had fallen asleep under Sanji's weight, who sat precariously on top of them.

Perhaps he couldn't complain because he knew what Sanji had been like mere weeks and months before, and that boy never would've afforded Zeff with this casual closeness, one that made an unsettling happiness grow in him, because he knew that they were getting somewhere, that this makeshift ship was becoming closer and closer to the little eggplant's home, and that did, ashamedly, make Zeff happy.

"Okay, I'm done," Sanji finally announced, and Zeff let out a sigh, of relief or disappointment he wasn't sure.

"On with it then," he opened his eyes, this time without any urgent protest from Sanji, and shifted his good leg with a smile too fond for his liking. "Up so I can look."

Something resembling a scowl appeared on Sanji's face, but it was gone just as quickly as he scrambled off of him, rolling onto the side of the bed. Zeff took his time, ignoring Sanji's protests, to stand up, letting feeling come back into his limbs as he stretched before trudging over to his drawers, accompanied with a small mirror hanging above it.

It was about what he'd expected. Zeff's mustache was styled into two somewhat unkempt braids, tied up with his usual blue ribbons. It wasn't half bad, not for the eggplant's first try, and Zeff didn't recall teaching him any braids. He wondered where he'd learned how to do that, but now wasn't the time for questions.

"Right. We done here?"

Sanji's cheeks puffed out slightly, tinged red as his face morphed into a pout. He always did wear his emotions on his sleeve, no matter how much he tried to hide it. Reluctantly, he nodded and stood from the bed.

Zeff turned out the lamp, settling back down into his bed and sparing a glance at Sanji. "You layin' down or not?"

There was a moment of awkward shuffling, Sanji's head darting back and forth between Zeff's bed and the door, looking as if he wished he had that rope on him to give his body something to do and soothe his mind.

After an uncomfortable amount of time passed, Sanji perched himself at the edge of the bed, slowly laying down, as if he was scared Zeff would change his mind and yell at him to scram.

He didn't. He had an extra blanket and pillow, so he didn't mind at all, though if he had to, he knew he would've given his own to Sanji to make him comfortable—the kid hardly got enough sleep as it was.

"Night," he grunted, then added, far too impulsively, "Didn't do half bad with the hair."

For a moment, he thought he imagined Sanji's muffled sounds of joy, but then he only laughed quietly to himself, thinking about all the trouble this dumb kid brought with him.

Zeff was going soft, and he couldn't bring himself to care.

Morning was quiet. Zeff woke up first, squinting at his window, watching the faint rays of light trickle in.

It was early, but he wasn't ready to go back to sleep. Instead, he carefully shifted in the bed, turning on his side to face Sanji. He was still sleeping, lying curled up on his stomach. Zeff didn't realize how much he moved in his sleep, not until Sanji woke him up more than once in the night with a flying limb.

He'd seen him sleeping before. After Sanji had crossed to his side of the rock and discovered Zeff's secret, there was less distance between them. Less reason to hide. And Sanji seemed to, for whatever reason, like the company of bitter old men, apparently as much as Zeff like the company of snarky young kids. But there were some nights when Sanji fell asleep there, with Zeff. He'd moved around too then, violently, thrashing so much Zeff feared he'd fall right into the ocean. He was prone to nightmares then too, but he didn't have any more tears to cry by then, just hiccuping gasps that sounded so painful coming from his dry, aching throat.

He wasn't having a nightmare now. His face was relaxed, not curled up in an aching knot of dread like it usually was. His chest rose and fell with calm, steady breaths. Zeff couldn't see it clearly, not in the dim light, but he heard it, and the noise was a comfort.

Another impulse. That's what Zeff wanted to blame it on. Say that his arm had a mind of its own; that he acted without thinking. He didn't know if that was better or worse than the truth.

But he did know what he was doing. And he wanted to. That was the reason.

That was the reason he reached his hand out, with a touch lighter and gentler than he ever thought he was capable of, combing through Sanji's hair to fix the disheveled mess.

It was soft and void of any obnoxious clumps, both traits he attributed to Sanji's fixation with his appearance. Just had to look good for the ladies, apparently. Not that any took interest in him. The little eggplant had about as much charm as one.

Hair straightened, his hand trailed further down, rubbing gentle, soothing circles into the back of his neck. It was something he normally only did after a nightmare, when Sanji cried and clung to him, but it seemed appropriate now too. He thought it was good for Sanji. He always slept better when Zeff held him.

Except now. Sanji twitched, and Zeff worried he'd wake him, so he lightened his touch, fingers barely grazing the skin, and that's when he heard it.

A giggle.

The noise was muffled by the pillows, but it was unmistakable in the quiet of his room. Something high-pitched and boyish and utterly unexpected.

Zeff's hand stilled, staring intently at Sanji. His body was still and breathing steady. He'd heard Sanji talk before in his sleep, but laugh? That seemed odd. Unless it was something else.

Curiously, he continued his light movement, holding back a laugh of his own when he noticed Sanji squirm, twisting back and forth but trying so hard to hide it.

So he was awake. And Zeff didn't see why he shouldn't have his fun.

He changed tactics, switching to scratching at Sanji's neck, touch still light, using just his blunt nails.

There was another noise; this one was more like a muffled whine, low in his throat and barely contained. One of his arms shifted, trying for a subtly he had never been gifted with, and pushed the pillow further into his face, hiding his wide smile.

How stupid did Sanji think he was? He wasn't sure he actually wanted to know after this. And if Zeff said something, he knew it'd ruin the moment. He didn't want to.

He didn't, so he continued tickling the boy who he'd become uncomfortably fond of.

His hand drifted, grazing across the side of his neck in a way that made Sanji's shoulders scrunch up. He couldn't contain himself anymore, and soft giggles poured out of him. The kid was oddly cute like this, and that fond feeling he had for Sanji only grew.

Zeff was careful. They'd never done anything like this—he doubted Sanji'd ever even been tickled before—and they were still in a somewhat precarious position surrounding the kid's tolerance for any touch at all. He wasn't one to be playful, but Zeff figured this was the closest he'd ever get as he moved to new spots.

Sanji chortled when he scratched under his chin, and seeming to have given up the act of pretending to be asleep, kicked his legs when Zeff's fingers prodded at his ears. The strongest reaction came when he scribbled at his back—Zeff hadn't even known backs could be ticklish—making an alarmed high-pitched sound that Zeff could only call a squeal, grip around the pillow tightening, trying to hide his embarrassment or laugh or something, Zeff figured.

After a few more moments, Zeff stopped, pulling his hand away and waiting for Sanji to collect himself. It took a long time for his laughter to calm down, but Zeff only watched, unable to help his own amused smile.

Finally, Sanji removed his face from the pillow, looking up at Zeff. His face was completely flushed, and he had a large, dopey smile on his face that Zeff had only ever seen when he was talking to a girl. Dumb kid.

"Um…" Sanji brought the pillow to his chest, hugging it tightly and partially obscuring his face. "What was that?"

"Tickling. Ever happened to you before?"

He shook his head, eyes flitting away from Zeff with a sad look. He was quiet, seemingly lost in thought, and Zeff watched him, waiting for Sanji to gather himself.

It took a few minutes before he dropped the pillow, propping himself up. There was still a trace of sadness, but there was something else, something Zeff couldn't quite place.

His eyes were big and droopy, fatigue weighing down his lashes and a smile, albeit faint, dragged across his lips. In the quiet of these late nights and early mornings, there was something different about Sanji, more tender. Like the darkness of the sky cloaked them in a veil of security, wrapping around his shoulders and tucking him in with the same comfort of a loving parent.

Leaning closer, a yawn breezing past his lips, Sanji shifted further towards Zeff, mumbling, "'t's nice."

"Guess so," he grunted and, seeing the expectant look on his face, reached back out, curling his fingers into Sanji's side until he burst into another fit of giggles.

Zeff supposed it was quite nice.

Sanji, by some miracle, had actually managed to fall back asleep after crying for mercy.

Zeff wasn't tired, but he stayed, figuring Sanji wouldn't like waking up alone, and there wasn't much work to be done today anyway; he could let him sleep in. He grabbed a book at random from his shelf, biding the time by staring absentmindedly at the pages, his attention always somehow drifting back to Sanji. It was almost annoying, the grip that the kid had on him.

When he did wake up, scolding Zeff for letting them stay in that late and wasting so much of the day as if Sanji was actually the adult. It was stupidly endearing.

Zeff, like always, brushed away his concerns. "Then stop complaining and help me get ready."

"Help?" Sanji asked, indignant, and Zeff sorrowfully remembered what an attitude he had on him. "What do you need now, old man? A diaper change?"

Sighing, he only gestured to his face, watching the confusion spread across Sanji's face and sighing again.

"The braids," he huffed, untying the ribbons. "They need to be redone."

Sometime during the night, or perhaps during his horseplay with Sanji, the hair had become wildly unruly, strands unwinding and sticking out at odd angles.

Sanji stared at him for a long moment like he was stupid. Then asked, in an oddly anxious voice, "What?"

"You heard me. Get on with it."

He couldn't bite back his smile. His whole face lit up, and no matter how hard he always tried to hide it, Sanji still always wore his heart on his sleeve, and his joy was infectious. Shuffling closer, he carefully reworked Zeff's mustache, hair now slightly curled, into a neat braid, redoing them both a few times until he was satisfied with his work, staring at Zeff proudly.

It was better than the ones yesterday; Zeff had to give him credit for that.

"Good work, little eggplant," he said, staring at himself in the mirror. "Now you go get ready. It's late."

Sanji, ever the dutiful worker, hurried out, but Zeff caught the blinding smile on his face before he left.

It was worth the odd stares he got from the rest of his crew, and none of them had the courage to say anything after Zeff stared down the first person who'd so much as uttered a word about it.

Unless it was a compliment, which he tolerated in silence only because it brought that bright smile back to Sanji's face, and the kid deserved the praise.

The day was slow and calmer than Baratie had any right to be.

There was an odd lightness in Sanji; Zeff didn't know if it was because of him, but he was glad.

And he was even happier when it seemed to persist into the next day and the next.

They still bickered, of course—the kid—his kid—just had to bitch about every little thing. They spent long days cooking together, sweating and struggling in their somehow always understaffed restaurant. They trained together on those off days, splitting time between cooking and fighting. And in those early mornings, late nights, and all the time in between, they regarded each other with a new softness, with the playful and affectionate touches Sanji had become accustomed to, the ones he craved.

And Zeff, forever worn out by the rude, annoying kid he'd ended up with, always indulged him, his little eggplant.

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deepspacedukat · 2 months

Text

Good Catch

This is just a little plot bunny that hopped into my brain. Literally no idea why, it just happened. So...enjoy! 😇

If anyone wants to be added to or removed from my taglist, let me know!

Cross-posted to AO3 here.

~*~

Vorik (ST:VOY) x Reader

[A/N: This is fluff with mild suggestiveness and a brief mention of a previous instance of Pon Farr.]

Warnings: Interspecies romance, Human/Vulcan romance, mild fear, idiots in love, both think their feelings are unrequited, mutual pining, angst, brief mention of past Pon Farr, spoilers for ST:VOY S3E16 "Blood Fever", mild spoilers for ST:VOY S4E1 "Scorpion Pt. 2", the beginning would make more sense if you watch S4E1 first but it's not entirely necessary, and I assume that you've seen "Blood Fever" if you're reading Vorik fanfics, so...🤷‍♀️, kissing, Vulcan hand-holding, touch telepathy, idk what else to put here because it's really just fluff.

~*~

The tension on the ship was already palpable when the chaos started. Everyone was on edge because of our uneasy alliance with a Borg cube, wondering how long it would be before they turned on us and tried to assimilate Voyager. The fact that Species 8472 had turned out to be hostile as well did nothing to alleviate the crew's stress.

With enemies in front of and behind us, all we could do was try to prepare to the best of our ability. I just hoped it would be enough. Vorik had been silent on our way to Engineering for the start of our shift. The silence itself wasn't troubling - Vorik was often contemplative early in the day - but the small frown just barely pinching his brows together...that was worrying.

Inquiring about his well-being had earned me no more than a noncommittal, murmured deflection. All I could think to do was give him a gentle smile and rest one hand briefly on his shoulder. Shockingly, that seemed to help. His forehead relaxed, smoothing out into his usual, calm, neutral expression.

For the next few hours, I noted that whenever I glanced over at his station, the Ensign seemed to have retained whatever sense of ease he'd regained in the corridor that morning.

Soon, however, all thoughts outside of my duties were wiped away. Red alerts began blaring, and it was all hands on deck as we struggled to regain control of Voyager from the Borg.

I'd just begun to cross the second level to access a different terminal when the ship gave an almighty jolt. Before I could brace myself, I was thrown toward the warp core. The low railing struck my back, and I let out a yelp of pain and fear as I began to tumble over the side.

Instead of finding myself flattened or shattered by the fall, however, a vice-like grip on my arm stopped my momentum and tugged me against a sturdy, warm chest. I grabbed at the shoulders of my savior, trembling with residual shock. Only after the ship steadied itself did I manage to catch my breath and glance upward.

Looking down at me with a protectiveness that I had never before witnessed from him, Vorik's shining brown eyes met mine.

"Thank you," I managed to squeak out, but speaking seemed as difficult for him as I'd found it to be. Instead, he nodded his head once and pressed our foreheads carefully together. Vorik knew I was terrified of heights.

After a moment, though, we were forced to pull away from each other and go tend to our duties. Short-lived comfort was all we could manage at times like that. Being stuck in fluidic space after we'd been forced there by the last surviving Borg onboard Voyager was definitely not the right moment to become distracted by our personal tension, even if it had been growing for years.

I knew nothing would ever truly happen between us, though. If he'd seen me as a viable partner, Vorik would've approached me when his pon farr happened the year before. Instead he'd gone for B'Elanna Torres, and I'd forced myself to stay away from him.

I'd requested a transfer to the night shift so that I wouldn't be on duty at the same time as him, and the few moments where our schedules overlapped, I tried to find reasons to be busy in other places.

Yes, his interest in someone else had stung, so I decided that until my own stupid feelings cooled down a bit, I'd keep my distance. Mostly, I just didn't want to embarrass myself in front of him. After all, that Vulcan could read me like a book, and at that particular point, I didn't want him to ponder my emotional state too closely. If he hadn't caught on to the fact that I loved him prior to his pon farr, I certainly wasn't going to change that after he'd made his non-interest known.

I hadn't been rude to him in the aftermath, especially since he was being viewed so poorly by so many of the crew for attacking B'Elanna in engineering, but I hadn't gone out of my way to talk to him, either. The whole situation was a mess, and although I didn't want him to feel alone, I definitely wanted to limit the number of opportunities that I had to make an ass of myself.

Eventually, though, it all came to a head one morning when I'd just finished my shift. As I approached the hall where my quarters were, I saw a familiar head of fluffy back hair standing at attention outside my door.

"Vorik?" I called, and he looked quickly in my direction. Standing even straighter - a feat that I hadn't believed possible - the Ensign acted formally, as if he was addressing a superior officer.

"Ensign, forgive me for disturbing you at this hour, but I...had hoped to speak with you in private," he said in that low, gentle voice that I...oh, I'd missed him more than I anticipated! I blinked in surprise, and opened the door to my quarters, answering his question.

"Would you like some tea or water or something? I know you need to go on duty soon, and I have some extra replicator rations...?"

"Thank you, but no," he murmured as we made our way over to my sofa. We'd held many debates and conversations here over the years, but it had been something like two months since we'd been together like this. I took a seat, but when he remained standing, I looked up at him curiously. "May I?"

"Vorik, we've been friends since before we came aboard Voyager. You know you never need to ask permission to sit down." He seemed surprised by my response, which, in turn, surprised me.

"I did not know if..." he stumbled over his words for a moment as he perched awkwardly on the cushion beside me. "After the incident in Engineering, I was uncertain whether you would be...comfortable with my being in close proximity to you."

I was silent for a moment as I processed what he'd said.

"You thought I'd be afraid of you?" My voice came out as barely a whisper, and when he nodded his head, my heart shattered in my chest. He looked so vulnerable, so afraid that I was going to scream at him or throw him out of my quarters.

"It is the logical conclusion. You did request a transfer to a different shift, did you not?"

Of course he'd found out about that. I don't know why I expected that to remain a secret.

"Yes, but it wasn't because I was afraid of you, Vorik." That may not have been the whole truth, but it wasn't a lie. He seemed relieved, but I didn't want him to dig too deeply, so I changed the subject with a smile. "Now, what brings you here before your shift? How can I help you?"

"My main goal was to ascertain whether I'd frightened you. My subsequent objective..." he trailed off with his brow furrowed. "Upon reflection, I do not know whether this is logical, but I wished to determine what would be required to restore our prior level of interaction. I find myself...troubled by your absence, both in Engineering and in our leisure hours."

"You missed me?" The question slipped out before I could stop it, and just like that, it was Vorik's turn to look surprised.

"Of course. Did you believe that I would be indifferent or pleased to be without you?" Nodding my head, I watched as my friend cautiously moved closer to me on the sofa and placed his hands on my shoulders. "You lend me much metaphorical strength. I value your counsel...and your friendship."

My self-imposed isolation had ended that night. I spoke with B'Elanna and got transferred back to my original shift, which is why Vorik was there to save me when I nearly fell over the railing. If it hadn't been for him, I'd likely be lying in a crumpled heap on the lower deck by now. We'd rekindled our friendship after that lapse, but I knew it would never become anything more.

Regardless, Vorik had saved my life, and I resolved that once we were out of danger, I'd show him how grateful I was.

One minor war later, Vorik and I exited Engineering with the rest of our shift, and without a single moment's discussion, I found myself being led by a firm hand grasping my elbow.

"Vorik? Where are we going?"

"Patience." Was it my imagination, or was his voice rougher than usual? He sent the turbolift up before anyone else could board it, and the ride was filled with an undefinable sort of silence.

His grip slipped down from my elbow to my hand, and tingles erupted across my palm. He'd never touched my bare skin before. Vulcans were averse to such contact, and I'd always done my best to respect that boundary.

But he'd been the one to initiate this, not me. As the lift hummed along, Vorik's gaze slipped upward until our eyes met. A mere blink later, his eyes were hooded and hunger flooded his demeanor. Stepping closer to me with our hands still joined, the Ensign backed me up against the wall of the turbolift releasing a whisper of my name in that beautiful, low, silky voice of his.

The tingling in my spine intensified the longer he looked at me - and oh, did he look at me! His eyes seemed to bore right into my soul, stealing my breath and my thoughts with unerring skill. He'd looked at me before, but never the way I wanted him to...never like this.

That frightened me. Oh, the look itself wasn't disquieting, but the possibility that this could lead to something more – something that might damage my heart more than his preference of B'Elanna over me had a year before? That terrified me.

"I did not," he rasped, and I blinked in confusion. "I believed that you did not harbor the same regard for me that I did for you, and it was out of a desire to avoid needlessly damaging the relationship between us that I selected Lieutenant Torres. I did not wish to lose you. To equate yourself with her is the height of illogic, because none could ever compare with you."

Before I could respond beyond a stunned look, however, we arrived at the deck we'd been hurtling toward. The door hissed open, and he began tugging me through the corridors again. We passed through the door to Vorik's quarters, and everything clicked into place. He'd always preferred privacy, only allowing into his space those who needed to be there - like the Doctor and Lieutenant Tuvok.

And then there was me.

I'd never understood why he allowed me in when almost nobody else was permitted the same luxury, but suddenly it all made sense. I was allowed to be there when nobody else was because he trusted me enough to be vulnerable with me. He told me more about himself than he did anyone else. He spent more of his free time with me than anyone else. He knew more about me than anyone else did.

And I'd all but abandoned him after the incident with Torres! Guilt coiled hot and bitter in my gut, and I bit my lower lip. How did he not hate me? How could he have simply been content with our renewed friendship? He should've chewed me out or berated me–

My racing thoughts ground to a halt as the softness of his lips met mine.

Oh.

The kiss was gentle and brief, but it was easily the most tender gesture I'd ever received. When he pulled away just far enough to watch me open my eyes, his hands caught both of mine and lifted them to his chest.

"I...Vorik, that...isn't something friends do," I breathed, feeling like an idiot as soon as the words were out of my mouth.

"You are correct. It is not," he said with a hint of a smile tugging at the corners of his lips, "but I had hoped that my attempts to demonstrate my interest were successful enough to convey that I desire you in more ways than a simple friendship will allow."

"Your interest?" I parroted, and he moved close enough that when I spoke, my lips brushed against his. The contact felt as warm as fire, as sweet as honey, and I was a starving. Ravenous for his touch, his affection, I craved him more than I had anything else in my entire life.

"You cannot have missed it. By Vulcan standards, I have been metaphorically throwing myself at you. Lieutenant Tuvok even suggested that I was being too overt." He grasped my waist, tugging me gently against him as his lips met mine again. A fleeting, barely-there peck later, my patience had stretched to the breaking point as I chased his retreating mouth with my own. "Is there something you need, ashayam?"

Blinking up at him, it occurred to me that he was doing this deliberately.

Vorik was teasing me.

And he looked almost proud of the reaction he'd drawn from me. Beautiful bastard.

"You," I whispered before I could talk myself into being more cautious. "All I need is you."

"Then you shall have me," Vorik promised as he lifted me into his arms and carried me toward his bed.

~*~

Taglist:

@akamitrani @android-boyfriends @attention-bajoranworkers @bigblissandlove1 @darkmattervibes

@emilie786 @groovyqueer @horta-in-charge @live-logs-and-proper @rookietrek

@slutty-slutty-vulcans @starrynightgardens @toebeans-mcgee

#deepspacedukat fic #Vorik x Reader #Ensign Vorik x Reader

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i-write-boop-spoops · 9 months

Text

Leon Proposal and Wedding Headcanons

i understand the poll is not over yet, but this is the clear winnder! i've been watching a ton of wedding content recently, so i was so jazzed to receive this request. thanks anon!

features: gn! reader and 1 mild sexual refernce. other just pure fluff! also not proofread

Enjoy!

Now that he’s no longer champion

Leon has his sights on a much more important title

Husband

And the first step to gaining that title?

Finding a wonderful, awesome person that he loves and loves him back unconditionally?

He’s already got that covered!

Spoilers! It’s you!

Now he has to take the next step

The proposal

With Lee, I can see this going two ways, depending on the kind of person you are

If you’re someone who loves the spotlight, a fellow elite-class trainer and/or a major celebrity

I can totally see him proposing to you in front of a massive crowd in Wyndon Stadium

After an intense heart-pounding match

If you’re his opponent, when you go to shake his hand after the battle, he’ll take it

And drop down on one knee

If you’re just watching the match, he’ll call you out to the pitch

As the new head of the Galar League, he’s already got the staff clued in, no surprises with them

You walk onto the pitch to a roar of applause, having an inkling of what’s about to happen, where Lee gives you a kiss, takes your hand and get into position

Presents to you a little velvet box

And gives a heart-warming but brief speech

He’d love to go on, really pour his heart out… but some of the things he wants to say are just for your ears only

The whole time the audience is waiting on bated breath

With the occasional holler of “Go Leon!” and “Say Yes!”

Somebody did shout “Say no! I wanna marry him first!”

Which admittedly made you chuckle

The whole proposal is being broadcasted on the big screen, and across the region, maybe even the world

Which means, when you say – no, exclaim - “Yes!”, It’s the yes heard around the world

The crowd goes W I L D

Just an eruption of clapping and hollering and screaming

But you don’t register it at all

No, you’re too focused on the love of your life, slipping a gorgeous ring on your finger

And taking you in his arms

So warm, and strong, and perfect

He holds you to his body like you’re the most precious thing to him

Which you are

“I love you,” you hear him whisper in your ear

Your answer comes in the form of a passionate, triumphant kiss

Which makes the crowd go even crazier

Now, if you’re someone who’s more introverted, private and/or not a fan of public proposals

I imagine it’d go a little something like this;

It’d be a proposal in your shared home

And he’ll pull out all the stops to make it as romantic and as cosy as possible

He’ll secretly take a half day from the battle tower to prepare everything while you’re busy with work/school/etc.

The whole living room will be transformed

I’m talking candles (with your favourite scent)

Bunches upon bunches of favourite flowers

An arch decorated with said flowers

And so many photos of the two of you together from your relationship

Plus, ones of you that he just thinks are cute

He’ll prepare your favourite meal or order your favourite takeaway too

And he’ll wait by the front door, practically buzzing with excitement (and a touch of anxiety)

I mean, he’s pretty sure you’ll say yes

But he has an old, toxic friendship with doubt so, it’ll always be there, whispering falsehoods

You arrive home

Greeted by the sight of your purple haired himbo

And the lovely display he’s set up for you

It’s not your birthday, so you know something special is afoot

Even though, you’re certain it’s going to end with a proposal, you still end up feeling surprised

He takes your hand and walks you through all your memories together, reminding you how much you mean to him, how lucky he is to have you, how you’ve always been there for him, how much he loves you

And how he can’t imagine his life without you

It would be too painful

All ending with him getting on one knee under the arch of your favourite flowers

You’re crying, he’s crying

As you say “Yes!” and share a tight embrace

No matter if his proposal is public or private, the wedding is DEFINITELY private

That celebration of your love with you friends and family, just isn’t for the world to see

Except a few photos on social media a week or two later lol

It’ll be cute, quaint rustic affair

Probably in Wedgehurst or Postwick

In one of those farmhouses that double as wedding venues

Raihan is most likely best man

Hop’s just a bit too young

But he’s definitely a groomsman, and the ring bearer

He and Wooloo take this job very seriously

If you for one second think Charizard isn’t also a groomsman and wearing a bowtie, you’re SORELY mistaken my friend

The guest list is mainly your and his friends and family, and the Galar League

For the life of me, I can’t imagine Lee in a plain black suit/tux

He’ll at least wear a jacket that’s a colour that suits him

Probably something that’ll match the colour scheme

Let me tell you one thing

Well, two things

Lee will definitely cry

And he will carry you over every. single. threshold.

No exceptions

When he goes in for the kissTM he’ll cup your face and kiss you with so much love and passion you’ll be breathless

I’m sorry but that just gives me butterfrees

He will give a speech and a toast to you at the reception

It’ll be heartfelt and dorky just like him

Raihan’s best man speech is funny, and just a touch irreverent

He definitely harps on about how you’re way out of Leon’s league

And how smitten Lee is with you

When it comes to the cake, if you let him, Lee would like to smush a bit of it on your face

Just a little smush

Which he fully expects you to do back to him

Again, only if this is something you want

You two will definitely feed each other cake either way though

During the whole reception (and before) Lee just has this goofy, lovestruck expression on his face

He gives you heart eyes the entire time

And he keeps asking if it’s really real

Is he really your husband now?

You delight in telling him yes, every time

Your first dance is basically just the two of you hugging while you sway to music for like three minutes

The world disappears, and it’s just you and your husband

It’s perfect

After a fantastic night of food, dancing and fun

Leon picks you up and carries you over one last threshold

Sure, the night may be done, but the fun? That’s not over yet ;)

#champion leon x reader #champion leon #champion leon headcanons #leon pokemom #leon pokemon x reader #leon pokemon headcanons #trainer leon headcanons #trainer leon #trainer leon x reader #fluff #request

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theendofviolet · 1 year

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“ashiya douman is evil for the sake of being evil”

yes! but also.....very much no.

(heian-kyo and very mild out of context paper moon spoilers abound below)

i think what i find sometimes among fate/go players is treating ashiya douman As It Says On The Tin; they’re a nuisance, a monstrous soul, a giddy evil jester happy to spread their malice to cause harm to human beings. and yes, as it stands, that’s exactly their role. even nasu states in an interview that douman was created to be a negative force to push the lostbelt kings a little to serve the plans of the foreign god as her Apostle. the man was told “be amusingly evil” and boy, did they live up to the task!

but to stop at just the interpretation of “oh, guy is EVIL that’s all, time to wrap it up and go home boys” completely misses the true complexity lying behind the surface, and whitewashes a key point repeated time and time again in heian-kyo.

douman....or rather, limbo (and the distinction is important!) is an alter ego. limbo is a shadow. limbo is a part of the whole. limbo is an aspect, a silhouette of humanity, a piece, a caricature. xu fu even goes into detail of the nature of alter egos here:

limbo is an alter ego, which means if you take the whole of ashiya douman and write them off as “evil for the sake of doing evil”, you are more than happy to stare at the shadow at the back of the cave without wanting to turn around. heian-kyo is more than unsubtle about this point. for where, does it ask, that resentment come from? where does that malice originate? when guda and the others meet the living douman (even if it is limbo, hiding in plain sight), the man they meet is not a overly hammy evil clown but a mild-mannered, sincerely humble monk. and it is seimei....yes, that seimei, the great nemesis, the one limbo spits at and hates with every fiber of their being, who makes the distinction over and over again that limbo and ashiya douman are distinct.

“but living douman also wanted to do evil for the sake of evil!” are you sure? this is a man who we see in a brief moment want to end his own life with no real hesitation because he was deeply appalled by the nature of his own evil in the form of limbo.

and then, if we really want to go down to brass tacks, even if we make a distinction between limbo and douman, with writing off limbo as the monstrous form of a human’s resentment and evil, is LIMBO really evil for the sake of evil? time and time again, we see limbo do things that seem so contrary as to be suspect. douman finds and fixes danzou up, claiming that they are doing so as to make her suffer more by giving her memories of her son, but without limbo, danzou would’ve continued to be a cold unfeeling broken machine with no recollection of what mattered to her most. in nagiko’s interlude, guda even calls limbo out for acting as a nuisance to actually help her and raikou resolve their differences. is that “evil for the sake of being evil”?

this isn’t to say that limbo isn’t evil at all. this isn’t even to say douman, as tragic as they are, isn’t evil in his own way, either. but the truth is more complicated. in the end, limbo and douman are just....human. flawed and horribly human, even if one is an aspect of a person. to write them off as some grand evil with nothing more to it is to make the same mistake that history did. douman was the nemesis of seimei, so he had to be evil. of course he’s evil. there’s nothing more. ignore the man crying at the edge of a cliff for all his sins and vices and flaws, hm? there’s nothing more. there’s nothing more. there’s nothing more-

Fufu. Even if I am in the guise of a Heroic Spirit, I am still the shadow monk of humanity. But I suppose that's no different than what it means to be human.

#ashiya douman #fate/grand order #fate/go #yes even if this is a project moon ramble blog THIS IS ALSO!!!! ASHIYA DOUMAN TIME 24/7 #long post #i have a lot of feelings and it pains me when nasu HIMSELF said that there's a lot more to douman #there's so much i didn't even get into like limbo forming an identity but i hope. you get the gist

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chernabogs · 1 year

Text

Deepwaters

Inc: Lilia, Malleus, Silver, & Sebek Warnings: Brief mention of blood, implementations of death, mild existential questioning. Some chapter 7 spoilers may be seen, but they're quite subtle (nothing major) WC: 3.1k Summary: 4 brief snapshots to the poem 'What are Heavy?' by Christina Rosseti centred on youth, the ocean, and the consequences of memories. (done for the @briarvalleyarchives 'Summer Shorelines' event :) )

LILIA.

What are heavy? Sea-sand and sorrow;

“I reckon you would not be able to swim past the rock crevice there.”

A girl's voice holds pride as she stands on the beach, her hands on her hips and her lips curled into a cocky smile. Before her are two boys—one, who looks irate with her words, and another, who looks as though he wishes to sink into the dusty white sands. The irate boy gives a snort in response before looking out to the waters.

The ocean is wine red with the setting of the sun and the waves hit the shore like hands grasping forward. The horizon is but a jagged line, as though it’s a starving mouth waiting to see who it will bite.

“I reckon you want us dead,” the irate boy counters. “If you want to challenge us, Mallenoa, then perhaps you should try it first.”

Mallenoa’s cocky grin falters for just a moment before she huffs and crosses her arms over her chest. In the distance farther up the shoreline, a few guards can be spotted observing the trio as they stand there.

“I have already proven myself capable of swimming there, Lilia. You and Revan were the ones too cowardly to follow along.” Mallenoa points to the rock crevice again. It’s a few yards out from the shore—not a grand length—but the sea is growing unsteady as night makes her rapid descent. “I dare you.”

“It will be getting cold soon. Would it not be better if we just wait until tomorrow?” Revan starts to protest, his wiry voice like wind passing through reeds, but his comments fall on deaf ears as Lilia turns sharply to stare out at the water's beyond. His gaze skims over the toiling surface, watching as the waves leave foam to sink back into their embrace, before he snorts and begins walking forward.

“No coward's soul is mine!” Is all he calls over his shoulder in return. He wouldn’t be called cowardly by the likes of Mallenoa, simply because he knew her to be the one to never live it down. He could hear Revan’s worried voice calling for him to stop, but these words die as the roar of the waves grows louder and his feet plunge into their icy depths.

For a moment, he looks down and watches as the red waters swirl around him. In his youth, he remains unaware of the foreshadowing this image holds; he knows little of the red waters he will come to wade through in his future, or of the rivers he will craft with his own hands in the name of Queen and Country. He knows not of how he will drown in salt and copper and steel for a purpose that will fail in the end anyway. He knows not of the clock running out on his halcyon days.

For now, he is just a boy, too arrogant to say no to a friend.

The sand weighs him down as he moves deeper into the ocean. The waters embrace his legs, and then his waist, and then he’s falling forward into the abyss below. He moves like he’s always belonged in this darkness; the sensation of the tide rippling across his skin and the sight of the dying light reflecting on the surface above is so calming that he almost forgets to break through. His breath escapes in a flurry of bubbles before he breaches and inhales sharply, looking back to his friends on the shore beyond.

Mallenoa is laughing in delight. The childish innocence of joy darkens her cheeks, and he can still see this in the orange light as she watches him with adoration and pride. Revan stands by her side, his hand grasping her sleeve as anxiety is painted on his features. It is how it’s always been; one bravely diving into the dark, and the other trailing behind her, like a comet and her tail in the depths of space.

Lilia exhales softly and looks around. The water is still now, like his presence has soothed it, and his body rises and falls slowly. Seagulls cry out from somewhere beyond, perhaps on the rock crevice he’s meant to reach. He pushes back his hair and looks towards his friends once more. The sun is setting further, and they’re beginning to look like nothing but two dark silhouettes on the distant shore.

It feels isolating, in the middle of these waters, all alone.

Lilia begins to swim.

------------------------------------------------

MALLEUS.

What are brief? Today and tomorrow;

“Prince Malleus, do not stray too far out!” He hears the nanny call from somewhere back on the shore as he hurries down the wooden steps of the pier. There is no one else on this beach except him, his nanny, and Lilia, who has volunteered to accompany the restless boy lest he become too much for the nanny to handle. They had cleared any other attendees of the beach for just this one day—for one day is all the Queen would grant the prince’s guardians when it came to taking him out of the security that was Black Scale Palace.

The sound of his small feet hitting the sand is like a hiss, and he can feel the heat on his bare feet, his shoes having been discarded as soon as they arrived. He looks up and squints against the brightness; it’s rare for the sun to come out in the Valley, but summer days often bring on a drought, and so week-long periods of nothing but light are not unheard of.

This heat lasts only a moment before something hides him in shade again. When he looks over, he sees Lilia holding a parasol above them, a bemused expression on his face.

“Goodness, are you sure you’re a dragon and not a sea serpent? You seem quite eager to get in those waters,” he teases as he fusses over a strand of Malleus’ hair. The young prince swats his hand away with a pout.

“I am a dragon,” he grumbles back, before rushing forward again, all previous slights now forgotten in his eagerness to reach the clear blue waters. Lilia follows closely behind while the nanny hurries after them, holding a basket with lunch in one hand and the prince's shoes in another.

Malleus had read a great deal about the sea. Of the creatures that reside within it, of the folklore and mythology it holds, of the vastness and the grandeur. He has not, however, read about just how cold the sea can be, and so when he jumps both feet into the water at once, he lasts all of two seconds before he’s shrieking and running back to Lilia. His hands grasp his guardians arm and he seems downright offended as he looks back to the water.

“It’s so cold!” He cries, stomping his feet in the sand as though to warm them back up again. Lilia can’t help but laugh at the sight of the young dragon clinging to his arm—the poor boy looks shattered. He moves his hand to hold Malleus’ and clicks his tongue teasingly.

“My, did you expect it to feel like a hot bath, little prince?” He laughs as his other hand adjusts the parasol. “Come. I’ll show you the proper way to wade into the ocean.”

Malleus looks prepared to protest, but Lilia hears none of it as he holds the boy's small hand in his own, guiding him forward until they are at the water's edge once more. The waves are a baby blue colour, and they glimmer in the sunlight like glass and pearls.

“Now, you must move steadily. Let yourself adjust to the feeling, and then continue on.” Lilia hums as he slowly guides Malleus forward. The prince’s expression turns sour again when he steps back into the cold waters, but then it slowly shifts to contemplation, and then a bright smile as his body adjusts to the temperature change. His hand squeezes Lilia’s tight, as though afraid to let go too soon.

“The sand feels funny,” he notes in that manner that children so innocently do. He wiggles his toes in the clear blue water and watches as the sand slides easily off his skin. He moves closer to Lilia. “Please don’t let me go. I don’t want to get pulled in.”

“As if I’d ever let that happen to you,” Lilia muses, holding the prince’s hand close. “I’d never hear the end of it from your grandmother if I did.”

He looks up then, his gaze going to a familiar rock crevice in the distance. The sun beats down but the parasol shields them both as the sounds of the nanny setting up a towel for lunch, accompanied by the ocean waves crashing against the shore, creates a strange rhythm of peace in the air.

This is broken when Malleus kicks up water onto Lilia’s legs.

“Malleus!” Lilia yelps, moving back while still holding the prince’s hand. Malleus laughs in delight at his guardian's expense, and his face is filled with unrestrained joy. It’s the happiest that Lilia has seen the prince in a long time—in the palace on his own, he often looks quiet and sullen, as gray as the walls that confine him. This new sight reminds Lilia of a similar face with a similar expression he once saw on this shore, long ago.

He squeezes Malleus’ hand, and shakes his head with a smile as the boy goes to splash him once again.

------------------------------------------------

SILVER & SEBEK.

What are frail? Spring blossoms and youth;

“Why can I hear the ocean?”

Lilia’s eyes open slightly as he hears a voice. At first he sees green, and then he sees a scowl, and then he recognizes the inquisitor to be that of Sebek Zigvolt, who looks thoroughly unimpressed with a shell in his small hand. Lilia looks past Sebek, and then to his right, where he spots Silver half-asleep on the beach towel next to him.

Good. All his children he’s set to watch are accounted for, despite his impromptu nap.

“What do you mean?” Lilia hums as he sits up slowly. His answer is given in the form of Sebek shoving a seashell against his ear.

“I can hear the ocean!” The boy declares, louder this time and with more urgency in his tone. Silver mumbles something and sits up as well to look at Sebek with a faintly confused expression. Lilia puts his hand over the shell and guides it away from his ear.

“Because it carries a part of the sea in it.” Truthfully, it’s the sound of your own ear fluid being echoed back, but Lilia figures that will lead to even more confusion if he were to say something like that instead.

“How did it get the sea in there?” Silver yawns before moving closer to his father and friend, peering at the shell with interest. He reaches out to grab it, turning it over and letting the light reflect on its rainbow-like surface. “Trapping things is mean. What if the sea wants out?”

“I’m sure the sea is quite happy in there,” Lilia replies as Sebek comes to sit down on his other side. Both boys are now up and active, and although today is meant to be a break from learning and training, it doesn’t seem like this will be the case. Silver shakes his head.

“But what if it isn’t happy? What if the shell just thinks the sea is happy, but really, the sea is sad?” Silver presses the shell to his ear, and his expression becomes a bit more concerned as he looks back to his father. “I don’t want the sea to be sad.”

“The sea isn’t sad. The sea can’t feel anything,” Sebek counters with a scowl before looking back to Lilia. “Right?”

Lilia has to admire the fact that both boys manage to have such polarizing views on the matter. Youth never fails to amuse him. He carefully takes the shell back from Silver and turns it over in his hands. The shell is frail—he can see chips in its surface already. It isn’t a young shell, that’s for sure. A faint breeze passes over the trio, carrying the scent of ocean water and blossoms from the trees that they sit beneath.

Lilia glances up. Apple blossoms, it seems.

“Shall I free the sea, then? That would mean shattering the shell.” Lilia glances between the two boys. “Would you like me to break such a pretty shell?”

Silver looks uncomfortable with the question as his hand comes out to grasp his fathers arm. “I think… I think we should. The sea should be with the rest of itself, not locked away in a shell. That isn’t fair.”

“But who are you to decide what’s fair and what isn’t? Who are any of us to decide?” Lilia hums, a small smile playing on his lips. Perhaps there’s time to still sneak a few lessons in here for the boys to keep knowledge down the line. Silver looks more concerned as he glances at Sebek to answer.

Sebek puffs his cheeks out for a moment as he looks at the shell. His hands clench and unclench in his lap before he looks at Silver, and then to Lilia. “If it’s stuck inside, it’s our job to let it out, even if we like the shell. It isn’t right.”

“It isn’t right?” Lilia turns the shell over again, and then glances between the two boys. “Well then, if we’ve all come to a decision.”

He clenches his hand, and the shell snaps in half like it’s nothing. A trickle of water runs down to the grass beneath them, and then towards the sandy beach just beyond, as though travelling to the ocean it came from. The two boys watch it go as they stay sitting beside Lilia. There’s silence, broken only by the faint sighs of the wind brushing against the blossoms above.

“,,, did we make the right choice?” Silver then asks, looking at Lilia expectantly as Sebek quickly does the same. Lilia brushes his thumb across the shell fragments for a moment, studying its shattered opal interior, and then he simply shrugs with a smile.

“We won’t ever know if it was the right choice, but it was the choice that we made, nonetheless, and it’s the one that we shall have to live with. That’s just how it goes.”

------------------------------------------------

OUR FAMILY.

What are deep? The ocean and truth.

The scent of the ocean is too strong. The sun is too bright, the sand is too perfect, and it’s the only way that the three of them know this is another illusion they’re trapped in. The faint cries of seagulls in the distance and the waves crashing against the sand fill the otherwise stagnant painting they’ve been etched into. Silver looks around in worry, as does Sebek, but Lilia’s gaze is fixated on the rocky crevice in the distance.

It looks jagged, and blurred, as though someone blended it in with the horizon in a mock attempt to make it exist.

“You look concerned.”

And then he’s there. Tall, with his expression unforgiving as he stands in the toiling waters, looking back at them with faint indifference in his gaze. The sea kisses his boots as though worshipping him, and the breeze rustles his clothing slightly. Lilia exhales softly as he senses Silver and Sebek tensing by his side.

“Is it not right?” Malleus looks back out at the deep waters beyond. The sky is the gentle pink of dusk, and the sun is hidden in a painted haze as the silhouettes of birds fly in the distance. The horizon blends together and makes the ocean look as though it’s never-ending. This entire experience has been never ending so far—a dream upon a dream, a nightmare upon a nightmare.

Lilia is tired. He’s sure that the others are, as well.

“You’re close, but the crevice is off.” Lilia points out at the rocks beyond. Malleus follows his direction and hums thoughtfully.

“I couldn’t quite remember what it looked like when I was little.” Is the explanation he gives. “It all blurs together in the end anyway, doesn’t it? The memories, the moments. So easily tossed aside without a single warning, without a single goodbye.”

“Malleus,” Silver begins, but Malleus turns and raises a finger to his lips, hushing the younger boy softly. Sebek looks uncertain as his hand grips his magic pen. Malleus looks as he always has; there is no black ink dripping into the waters he stands in, there is no oppressive presence, no crushing weight of magic. He is as they remember—as their memories painted him to be.

“I’m adjusting to the waters,” Malleus hums thoughtfully. “Remember how you taught me that?”

Lilia’s brow furrows. “Malleus, this has gone too far out of line. You must—”

“Would you like to come in?” Malleus cuts him off and holds a hand out. There’s a smile on his lips, but it fails to reach his gaze, which remains as lifeless as the scenery that surrounds them. “I promise not to let you get pulled in.”

Lilia falls silent as Malleus pays tribute to the conversation they had many, many years ago. The hand he once held now is extended as a mockery to that brief, tender moment between guardian and child. Silver looks to his father and notes the expression on Lilia’s face before glancing towards Sebek. His own hand moves down to grip his magic pen.

“Sebek,” he calls softly, drawing the other boy's attention for just a moment. Malleus’ gaze turns sharply towards him and darkens. The sky begins to grow a deeper red colour as dusk approaches faster. The waters become a wine red once more, their tide increasing as though to offer an omen foretelling what’s to come. They’re restless, clashing against the sand like blood spilling on a pale earth. “Is the sea sad?”

Sebek looks confused for a moment, and then the memory dawns on him, and his expression shifts to that of an uncomfortable understanding. He exhales slowly, and the subtle nod he offers is enough for Silver to know that he agrees. Lilia’s attention is still locked on Malleus, on his extended hand and the dark, cold expression he’s giving the other two boys.

Silver’s hand tightens around his magic pen, and Sebek’s does the same as the sea toils before them, and the sky descends into the blackness of night. If something is trapped, it’s one's duty to let it free, even if it means shattering something that they love dearly.

They won’t ever know if it’s the right choice, but it’s the choice that they’re going to make, nonetheless.

#briarvalleyarchives #lilia vanrouge #malleus draconia #sebek zigvolt #silver #twst lilia #twst malleus #twst silver #twst sebek #GOD this was the fastest i ever wrote for an event #the brain rot bro.... the wine red ocean #anyway lkfsdljffd

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babyjakes · 10 months

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forever and a day | 54. you didn't.

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summary | a story in which america’s favorite captain gives a new life and family to a five-year-old girl who has suffered well beyond her years at the hands of hydra.

characters | dad!steve rogers, girl/willa rogers (original character)

warnings | AU similar enough to OU to include spoilers to many Marvel movies (Age of Ultron and beyond). action and fight scenes with violence and killing. injuries/mild gore. mature themes related to and semi-graphic depictions of child abuse/neglect, past CSA and CSM, and their aftermath (emaciation, wounds, scarring, etc). medical abuse (including sterilization) and experimentation. ptsd/trauma symptoms in a child (developmental discrepancies, de-humanized behavior, detachment, extreme fears). medical treatment of CSM and other aftermath of abuse.trauma-informed therapeutic treatment of ECT. minor mentions of disordered eating. themes relating to abuse of power/authority and immoral interrogation tactics including SA (with brief depictions.) evil!Tony Stark.

[Steve]

If the night at Bucky's had been an isolated incident, I wouldn't have thought much about it. Unfortunately, in the days that have followed, things have only seemed to get more and more difficult for Willa.

It started the following morning, when I woke up around 5:00am to find the little girl in the bed next to me, bawling her eyes out. I had quickly switched on the bedside lamp, checking her over to see what was the matter, and I found her to be in the grips of a seemingly hellish night terror. She had no mind channel open, no crimson glow, so there was no way for me to know what she was dreaming of. Immediately, I had gathered her in my arms, rocking and soothing her as best I could while simultaneously hoping to rouse her from her torturous sleep. But it was no use; she was far too deep in the nightmare to break free. She flailed and sobbed and sputtered incoherently for hours, and all I could do was hold her and watch. By the time 7:00am rolled around, she finally woke up, and at that point she was inconsolable.

I couldn't get anything out of her that entire morning. She had fought her way out of my arms and crawled deep under my blankets, and I simply had no heart to remove her. I tried coaxing her out with the promise of cuddles, breakfast, and even her favorite movie, but nothing worked. Eventually, I decided to leave her alone and let her determine when she felt safe to come out, but she ended up staying there for most of the day. When she did finally emerge, she was a puddle of tears, her eyes begging for comfort and reassurance. But at the same time, she wouldn't let me come anywhere near her. When bedtime came around again, I offered to let her sleep with me in my room for another night, and she surprised me greatly by agreeing to it.

Through the night, she had another horrific nightmare, one so terrifying that it sent her jumping out of the bed in fear when she awoke. As soon as she saw me waiting for her with the lamp on, a deeply concerned expression drawn on my face, she grew so afraid of being punished that she began hyperventilating, eventually passing out from her compromised airflow. In the agonizing process of her panic attack, she wet herself again, and it was at that point that I decided I needed to speak with Jenny.

"Did anything happen in the days leading up to her shift in behavior that might've been cause for such a regression?" the mild young lady asks as she sits across from me in the living room. Resting back against the soft cushions of the sofa, I pick apart the past week in my mind, ultimately unable to identify anything.

"No," I sigh with a shake of my head. "There were small incidents here and there, but that's always the way it's been with her. Nothing major happened, at least, not that I can think of." It's now later in the morning, and Jenny and I are wrapping up a last-minute session I requested while Willa plays in her room. The doctor started off speaking with the child herself, but after half an hour or so of not getting much response at all, she decided to come out and work with me instead.

"I see," Jenny notes, scribbling something down on her legal pad. Closing up her pen, she brings her eyes up to meet mine, a familiar sense of warmth and patience lingering in her gaze. "Steve, with everything that Willa's gone through, her road to recovery isn't going to be as smooth as any of us would like it to be." I nod, not sure where the doctor could be going with a statement like that. "And even though things seem like they're getting worse with her, this is actually a pattern that's seen quite frequently with survivors of abuse and trauma who've recently escaped. Willa's body and mind were suppressing a lot of emotions, a lot of fear during her captivity, and even at the tower due to the things Tony did; her system couldn't handle addressing these feelings, so it shut them out. Now that she's in a truly safe place, with a safe person who only loves her and takes care of her, those things are beginning to show themselves because it's safe for them to." A wave of relief washes over me as the woman finishes her explanation, and I let out a deep hum.

"So this... is normal?" I ask. She nods.

"It's a difficult part of the process, since it might seem to both of you like things are getting worse when they should be getting better, but it's really just a sign that her body and mind are ready to start doing some deeper repair."

"I see. That's..." my voice trails off as I bring a hand up to brush through my hair. "That's so good to hear," I finish honestly. "I was really worried that I had done something wrong, or was messing up in some way."

"I don't think you need to worry about that, Steve, not at all. You're doing a phenomenal job with Willa. She just adores you." A faint smile crosses my face as I think of the little girl, and how much love and care I hold for her in my heart as well. "As far as dealing with her new or returning behavior, I'd recommend allowing her to get it out, as much as you possibly can. A big part of her might just need to respond in the way her body originally wanted to. She might need to go through the act of being scared or crying or getting sick, since those were all responses that were made impossible for her up until now. In regards to the increased accidents, it's a very common indicator of sexual trauma in children. I know it's frustrating, but try to be as patient with her about it as you can."

"No, no- it's not even frustrating," I assure her quickly, meaning the words with all my heart. "Really, it's not. It's not a hassle when it happens, not at all; it just makes me so worried."

"I know it's alarming to see her regressing in that sense, but it's totally normal and shouldn't pose an issue permanently as long as she remains in a safe environment where she isn't violated sexually. We're just meeting her where she's at, if that makes sense, and where she's at might go forward or backward for a while before we really start making linear progress. I know you know this already, but Willa is in many ways somewhat younger than five still, at least internally. And that's okay. We just have to let her exist at whatever developmental age she's at."

"And you think- you're sure it's okay? That I'm kind of, well- I don't know, kind of 'babying' her, as Tony would say?" I ask, wanting to be sure the doctor still approves of my controversial approach. Jenny smiles, allowing me to relax even more with relief.

"Yes, that's completely acceptable. Actually, it's probably very therapeutic for her system to be allowed to have those critical early childhood experiences that she was deprived of for so long. Whatever helps her feel safe and secure, even if it's meant for younger kids, is completely fine."

"Good," I nod, feeling slightly more sure about myself as a parent from all of Jenny's encouragement. "I'm sorry she wasn't up to working with you today," I apologize again, "I told her you were coming and asked her to do her best to be open and honest, but... I don't know. At the same time, I don't have much heart to push her."

"It's completely fine," Jenny reassures me once more, shaking her head at my persistent apologizing. "Therapy isn't ever something that should be forced upon a child. She'll talk when she's ready." Glancing down at her notepad, she offers, "I was wondering, though, if maybe the three of us could wrap up the session together? I believe Willa's still playing by herself in her room, and a lot of times children can be demonstrative of what they're thinking or feeling through the ways that they play. Maybe we could sit in with her for a little bit, if you don't mind?"

"I don't mind at all," I tell her, earning a smile as she rises to her feet.

"Alright, then," she says with a nod. "I'll let you lead the way."

Leading the woman back through the house, I stop just outside the child's half-open door, knocking a few times against the sturdy wood before pulling it the rest of the way open. Willa sits on the floor beside her bed, a few toys scattered around her as she holds a small wooden doll in her hands. Her big green eyes meet mine warily, and my heart sinks as she begins to tremble. "Hey sweetheart," I greet gently. For a moment, I remember that just a few days ago, she would beam every time I entered the room. Realizing that we're back to such a state of fear and uncertainty, a tinge of disappointment builds up inside of me. But then, I remember the doctor's words, and I'm able to remind myself that Willa's behavior is actually probably a good sign, in some weird way. "Things are starting to show themselves because it's safe for them to."

"Your daddy and I were wondering if we could sit and play with you for a little bit," the young lady's soothing voice overlaps her previous words running through my head. A look of skepticism forms on the little girl's face as she glances between the two of us, but thankfully after a few more moments, she nods. "Wonderful," Jenny says with a smile, and we enter in, both sitting a few feet back to give the child some space.

"What're you playing, Willa-bug?" I ask in a gentle tone, now able to get a better look at the toys she's taken out of her boxes. She has a bathtub and a sandbox from a dollhouse set, as well as Captain America and Ironman figurines, and the little brown-haired doll she's holding in her hand. The clothes are half torn off the doll, the hair messed and tangled. Big, frightened eyes look from the doll to me, and then back. "Who've you got there?"

"Willa," she says simply, holding up the doll that seems to represent herself. I nod.

"Is Willa getting dressed?" Jenny asks politely.

Swallowing hard, Willa shakes her head. "Off," she mumbles, removing the toy's purple dress and placing it on the floor. She then removes the doll's underwear as well, leaving it completely naked. Next, she reaches over and picks up the sandbox, opening up the cover. Almost urgently, she begins to dig, not stopping until she's created a little hole in the center. Then, she takes the Willa doll, placing it in the center of the hole. A lump forms in my throat as she buries the tiny pair of underpants with it, not paying any mind to the dress.

"Oh, you're... is Willa playing in the sand?" I ask, trying to understand the child's actions. Not giving a response, Willa simply continues with her scene, picking up the Ironman action figure and extending its arm. Clumsily, she begins using the plastic hand of the figurine to begin shuffling sand back over the doll that represents herself. "Willa, sweetie, what- what is Ironman doing?" I question carefully.

Once the wooden doll and her underwear have disappeared completely beneath the sand, Willa extends the other arm of the superhero's body, making them now both stick out straight. With a concerning amount of force, she begins jabbing the hands into the sand, uncomfortable sounds of plastic and wood colliding as the man apparently attacks the girl. Glancing over at Jenny, I see that her brow is furrowed in concentration. All I can hope is that she's understanding what Willa's actions mean, because to be completely honest, I have no idea what to make of any of it.

After several more moments of the violent motions, Willa finally stops, putting Ironman's arms back down and dropping him to the floor. Sifting through the sand, Willa pulls out the wooden doll, shaking her off slightly before finding her purple dress and redressing her. Turning back to the sandbox for a moment, she uses a single finger to re-bury the underpants, causing my brain to ache with questions and concerns. When satisfied with the way the piece of clothing is hidden, Willa picks up the bathtub, once again removing the doll's dress before placing her in the tub, coming to what seems to be a stopping point.

"Sweetheart?" I ask quietly, unable to even form my thoughts into a question.

"Can you tell us what you're doing, Willa?" Jenny fills in for me. "Willa's taking a bath now?" The little girl nods. "What about Daddy? He's with you when you take baths, right?" she continues, picking up Captain America off the floor and offering it to the child. To my surprise, Willa shakes her head, pushing the doll away. Jenny lets her. "No help from Daddy? Okay, that's okay, hun," the doctor says quickly, wanting to avoid upsetting the chidl.

"What was... what happened in the sandbox, honey?" I ask, not sure if I should be asking so many questions but ultimately too worried to refrain from doing so. Willa flinches slightly at my question, her bottom lip quivering as she gives me nothing but silence in return. "Okay, it's okay, sweetheart," I coo soothingly, not wanting to push the subject too hard, "that's okay, you don't have to tell us."

"How about you keep playing, sweetie," Jenny suggests, "it's okay. You said Willa was in the bath?" The small girl nods, looking back down at her toys before pulling the doll out of the tub, redressing her in her purple gown. Then, the child surprises both me and the doctor by repeating the same exact process all over again, starting with digging out the underpants in the sandbox, putting them back on the doll, and then completely undressing it.

My brow creases in perplexion as I watch Willa 'play,' her motions almost seeming like a routine or ritual that her body knows by heart. She repeats the entire scene once, then twice, and by the point in which she's buried herself a third time with her underwear, preparing the Ironman doll to perform his assault, I finally speak again, causing the child to pause. "Willa," I breathe, my heart pounding faintly in my ears. "What are you doing?"

Her wary gaze rises to meet mine and she blinks, her arm beginning to tremble as she clutches the action figure tightly.

"Could you explain it to us?" Jenny adds, her voice laced with concern. "What is Ironman doing to Willa?"

"Why is she buried with her underwear?" I ask, earning a glance of warning from the doctor. Sighing, I take a moment to breathe, not wanting to say anything I might regret. "What is- sweetheart," I murmur as I notice the poor thing's eyes filling with tears. "What is Tony doing to you?"

"Hurting me," she concedes, her voice barely loud enough to hear. Her big green eyes peer up at mine and beg for what she's too afraid to out loud: to not hurt her, myself, to not be angry with her for expressing her feelings with her toys.

"Okay, Willa-bug," I nod, not completely understanding but deciding that at the moment, I don't really need to. My biggest priority for now has to be showing Willa that she's safe and that she's not in trouble for what she's admitted. "What if- how about Daddy comes and helps you?" I offer hopefully, taking the Captain America figure from Jenny carefully and holding it up for the little girl to see. "How about Daddy comes and protects you?"

"N-no," Willa refuses, picking up her sandbox and holding it slightly closer to herself, almost in a protective manner.

"Why not, sweetheart? How about Daddy comes and- comes and makes Tony stop, stops him from hurting you," I try, reaching out with the figure and trying to place it in the sandbox with the other two characters. Unexpectedly, Willa jerks it away, bits of sand spilling out from the sides as a look of anger forms on the child's face, a look I've never seen before. "Willa, please-" I insist, extending a hand to take hold of the sandbox.

But to my complete surprise, instead of pulling back again or allowing me, Willa throws the entire thing at me, sand dumping all over my clothes as she snaps, "No. You don't. You didn't."

As the dust settles into my lap and I blink away the sand from my eyes, I'm met with the sight of Willa staring back at me, any indication of anger or frustration completely drained from her face. Her eyes are as wide as saucers as she gawks at me, as if she, herself, can't believe what she's done. And before I can say anything, before I can reassure her or even try to calm her fears, she's jolted up onto her feet, running right out of her bedroom door.

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kokoenjiandco · 1 year

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BAKER’S DOZEN

sigma x gn!baker!reader

Synopsis: Sigma stumbles upon a quaint, financially struggling cafe during a brief visit to the streets of Yokohama. Intrigued by the establishment, he becomes captivated by its owner – you!

Tags: Reader is realistic, confessions, mild argument, angst if you squint, apologies, romance, strangers to lovers, sigma loves cookies, reader is a baker who runs a cafe, no spoilers!

A/N: Writing 5.3k words for my first fic is just setting myself insane expectations.

5.3k words

Rarely did Sigma ever depart from The Sky Casino to set foot on solid ground. After all, it was where he felt alive. But for once, he did. His staff suggested that he should "get out more often" as he was either ensuring the satisfaction of his customers or glued to his seat at his desk in his office. Despite his initial reluctance, Sigma ultimately chose to take a helicopter ride down to the ground anyway.

Now, he found himself standing amidst the lively streets of Yokohama, beads of sweat forming on his forehead. He gently gnawed on his lower lip, uncertain what to do now that he had arrived on land. With a frown tugging at his lips, muttering a quiet “sorry” every time someone would bump into his shoulder while passing through the packed streets. As if driven by instinct, Sigma's legs began moving without a specific location in mind, his primary desire being to remove himself from the constant stream of strangers.

He had no clue how long he had been walking, maybe 10 minutes? He maintained a lowered head, with his gaze fixed firmly on the ground. “This was such a stupid idea. I should’ve just stayed in the Casino.” He cursed under his breath, yearning for the familiar embrace of the Sky Casino and its sweet patrons. Sigma continued his brisk pace until a sudden, jarring crash resounded in his ears. Startled, he turned his attention towards the source, only to discover that it was a small, chalkboard-like sign he had knocked over while speeding past. Quickly, he lifted the fallen sign from the ground, his cheeks flushed. He cast a nervous gaze around, checking to see if anyone passing by had watched his error. His gaze lifted towards the building where the sign belonged—a cosy little cafe. Just as he took notice, a subtle rumble emanated from his stomach. He hadn’t even realised how hungry he was after being so focused on escaping the crowds of Yokohama. Cupping a hand over his stomach, he glanced around again before summoning the courage to open the cafe's door and enter.

The door's bell chimed from above as he stepped into the small cafe, his gaze sweeping over the endearing decor scattered around the space. The delightful aroma of freshly baked pastries and coffee filled his senses, eliciting a gentle sigh of bliss from out of him. It was a lovely contrast from the strong fragrance throughout his casino. He glanced around, noting the near emptiness of the place. No soul occupied the tables, and no one was behind the counter. Maybe the cafe wasn’t open at the mo–

“I’m coming!”

Your head suddenly peaked out from behind a door frame behind the counter, sporting a smile on your lips and a sparkle in your eyes. “Hello! Sorry– just give me a minute while I get these cookies out of the oven.” You exclaimed, voice gradually fading as you vanished into the back room without giving Sigma a chance to respond.

"Okay..." Sigma softly scratched his cheek with his index finger, casting a puzzled glance to the side as you faded from his view. While awaiting your return, he gazed at the menu on a chalkboard on the wall before him, looking through the various beverages listed. It was so quiet, so peaceful compared to the lively streets outside.

You reentered the room, balancing a sizable tray of freshly baked, steaming cookies in your hands that were carefully shielded by mittens to protect them against the heat. Your hair was slightly dishevelled, and the apron wrapped tightly around your waist was coated in little speckles of flour. A warm smile graced your lips as you gently set the tray of cookies on the counter. You swiftly removed the mittens and adjusted your slightly tousled hair. You turned to Sigma, placing your hands on the edges of the counter. “I’m so sorry for the wait. What can I get you?”

“Oh– could I get a small flat white? and I think I’ll get a chocolate chip cookie with that, too, please.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out his wallet.

“Good choice! The cookies are all super fresh, and I’m sure it’ll taste even better with a coffee.” You gave him the total, and he handed over the bills to cover the expenses. With a polite smile, you inquired, "Will it be for here or to go?"

“Uhm, I’ll have it here, please.” He replied courteously and somewhat tentatively, his words carrying a touch of uncertainty. You nodded and gestured for him to find a seat, which he promptly did, settling into one of the cushioned chairs in front of the counter. Sigma occupied the chair, his gaze directed downward as he idly toyed with his fingers.

Minutes passed, and he was so distracted that he hadn’t even noticed you had placed a tray containing his coffee and cookie in front of him. Startled, he raised his gaze swiftly, offering a grateful mutter of “thanks.”

“No problem! I like your hair, by the way. I think it’s really neat.”

Sigma’s cheeks turned pink at the compliment. He murmured another thank you but made a concerted effort to avoid eye contact, knowing that his face would’ve exploded into an even deeper red if he had looked you in the eye for too long. He caught the sound of your gentle chuckle as you pivoted away from him, returning to your spot behind the counter.

He lifted the cookie delicately between his fingertips, ready to take a bite out of it, but just as he was about to do so, your gaze met his directly. You both froze, staring at each other in pure silence. Just as Sigma opened his mouth to say something, you quickly cut him off.

“Sorry! I don’t usually get that many customers. So when I do, I wanna see if they enjoy the stuff I make!” You rambled, shaking your arms side to side in front of you. You felt your face warm up in embarrassment. He had been your first customer of the day and you had already messed it up. You ducked down and curled into a ball behind the counter, your head peeking up. “I’ll stop staring, sorry.”

His lips curled into a soft smile, followed by a slight chuckle. He had never met someone so invested in a customer, maybe that was because he was so used to his casino being bustling with patrons.

Sigma finally bit into the cookie, experiencing the subtle crunch and the sweetness that enveloped his taste buds. The cookie's soft texture and soothing warmth felt like a cosy blanket on his tongue. He froze, stare fixated on the cookie, as his pupils shrunk into tiny, black dots. From behind the counter, his silence worried you. Does he not like it? Did I use salt instead of sugar? Did I—

“It’s… It’s so good!”

You sprang up from behind the counter; the happiness on your face was unmissable. “Really!? Oh, I am so glad.” A sigh of relief left your lips.

Sigma felt like he was on cloud nine as he indulged in another bite of the cookie, savouring the way the gooey chocolate in the centre melted on his tongue. As he chewed on it, it felt as if sparkles were dancing in the air around him. A hinge of pink tinted his cheeks, and he found himself unable to part his gaze away from the cookie until finally looking up at you.

“It’s delicious! I don’t think I’ve ever tried a cookie so good in my life.” With a bashful smile, he assured you. Sigma wasn’t lying. He couldn’t think of any other cookie that would compare to yours.

…

Some time passed, during which Sigma had enjoyed every last drop of his coffee and had devoured the cookie, a particular favourite of his. Meanwhile, you had disappeared again into the back room, which he had assumed to be the kitchen where you expertly baked all of the goods in the display case. Sigma stood up from his seat, ready to take his leave and return to the Sky Casino above.

“Wait–!” You ran back into the room, this time with a medium-sized box in your grip. You held out the box to him in both hands, the soft smile still adorning your lips from the moment he entered the cafe.

Sigma reluctantly took the box from your hands, an evident look of confusion on his face. He opened the lid only to reveal a stack of chocolate chip cookies inside it, the ones that he professed his love for earlier. His eyes widened, quickly looking up at you, and he opened his mouth to speak, but you cut him off once more.

“Like I said, I rarely ever get customers,” You explained with a warm smile, your hands clasped together at your chest. “These cookies would’ve gone to waste anyways, so I’d rather give them to someone who loves them!” Your eyes sparkled with genuine kindness, a heartfelt sparkle that touched Sigma’s heart.

“Thank you.” Sigma closed the box and cradled it close to his chest, his slender fingers tracing the edges of it, feeling the warmth radiating from the cookies inside the box. He left the cafe with his heart hammering against his chest as if it was trying to escape.

—

Days had passed since Sigma had encountered you, the baker who won his heart, and you hadn’t let his mind since. Every time he’d shuffle the cards as a dealer, every time he’d give his men a task, and every time he’d have a cookie and a coffee, he couldn't help but acknowledge that they could never quite compare to the ones you had made. His gaze lingered on the now-empty box resting on his desk, the same box you had gifted him when your paths first crossed. Upon his return to the casino, he found himself unable to resist the temptation, consuming all the cookies within just two days. He leaned back in his chair, his gaze shifting towards the calendar on his desk. He raised a pen and circled the upcoming Sunday’s box. With a satisfied smile, he got back to work. Sigma couldn’t wait to return to the cafe.

—

An hour remained until closing time, the amber hues of the setting sun casting a warm glow upon the cafe and reflecting off of the display case. The end of the week had come around fast. The cafe lacked customers today, like any other day. You leaned your upper body onto the counter, your head finding solace upon folded arms as you shut your eyes. It wasn’t like anyone would show up now anyway. Your mind wandered to a faint image of the dual-haired man you had met a couple of days ago and how he showed genuine love for what you made. What an interesting man.

The familiar sound of the bell chiming made you bolt up from your position, rubbing your eyes to shake off any lingering drowsiness. With a polite and welcoming tone, you began, “Hello, welcome to–” Once you had finally removed your bunched fists from your eyes, your voice trailed off in recognition of the man standing before you. “Oh, It’s you!”

Sigma hooked two fingers beneath his collar, tugging at it, hoping to get some air. He was sweating and panting, clearly stating that he must’ve been running. “I hope I’m not too late.” He admitted, his uncertainty evident. “I wasn’t sure what time you closed.” He took a moment to catch his breath, offering a flustered smile as he held the back of his rather sweaty neck.

“You’re in luck! I close in an hour,” You chimed, leaning comfortably against the display case with an inviting grin. “What can I get you today, Mister…” Your voice trailed off, allowing Sigma to provide his name and order.

“Sigma!” Instantly, he blurted out. He quickly slapped a hand over his mouth, embarrassed at his excitement. “My name is Sigma. And uh, I’ll get two chocolate chip cookies and a medium flat white, please.”

“Sigma, huh? I think that’s a lovely name.” The name struck you as peculiar, yet it possessed an odd charm which suited his character perfectly. You shared your name as well, a gesture you rarely extended to customers but this time felt somewhat different.

Like last time, you quickly prepared his order and handed it to him on a tray. With a warm smile, your heart swelled with satisfaction as you observed his enthusiastic enjoyment of freshly baked cookies from your vantage point behind the counter. A tranquil silence would then descend upon the cafe as he savoured his coffee, while you embarked on the the task of wiping down every countertop. Once he was finally finished, he rose up from his seat, but instead of walking out of the door, he walked up to the counter where you were standing.

His expression seemed to suggest a desire to say something, yet could not put it into words. He couldn’t seem to hold any eye contact let alone look you in the eyes. You blinked at him before a metaphorical lightbulb appeared above your head. “Oh! I’m sorry, Sigma. I didn’t bake any more cookies today. I would’ve given you another box if I had some.”

"That wasn't the case at all!" He blurted out, his cheeks flushing a faint shade of pink as he fumbled with his words. He was horrified that you had assumed he was asking for another box of free cookies. "I-I really appreciated the cookies last time," he stammered, his gaze averted momentarily before he managed a shy smile. "But, um, you don't have to give me anything more," he mumbled, his embarrassment noticeable as he fidgeted with the edge of his sleeve. His Adam’s apple bobbed with a gulp before he spoke,

“Um, I was actually wondering if I could maybe get your number?”

Your heart fluttered with a mix of surprise and warmth at his boldness. After thoughtful silence, you offered a shy yet delighted smile and replied, “Of course," The pads of two of your fingers pressed against your cheek gently as your other hand retrieved your phone from your back pocket to exchange contact information. You had never thought he’d be so bold considering his streak of shyness when he was around you.

Once the numbers were exchanged, Sigma left with a wave and you shut the cafe for the day.

You had finally arrived home and had taken a refreshing shower, you settled into your cozy bed. Your phone suddenly emitted a gentle vibration, rousing you from your drowsy state. With a languid stretch, you hoisted your phone above you, peering at the incoming message through heavy-lidded, weary eyes.

“Sigma: Hello. I hope you got home safe :)”

You smiled at the message, lowering the phone to your heart that was beating a little harder than its usual rhythm. Rolling onto your stomach, you cradled the phone in your hand, your fingers dancing across the screen as you composed a response.

“I got home alright, thank you! How about you?”

Messages flowed back and forth between you and Sigma, the fatigue that had weighed on you earlier dissipating completely as you shared hearty laughter over the spontaneous pictures he sent of cats he’d encounter on the streets, some playfully attacking him. The concept of time seemed to fade into the background, for your undivided attention was now devoted to the engrossing conversation unfolding with Sigma. You buried your face into your pillow, legs kicking the air behind you.

Little did you know, Sigma occupied his office within the confines of the Sky Casino. He was seated in his office chair, the backrest cradling him as he curled up into a relaxed ball. A playful grin adorned his features as his fingers tapped rhythmically onto the keyboard of his phone in quiet delight as he continued the conversation with you.

Once one of you retired to bed, the conversation would end, only to be picked up the next morning. The two of you started messaging everyday. And when you weren’t engrossed in messages, you would both be talking in person whenever Sigma would come to visit your cafe and order his usual. The friendship between you blossomed to such an extent that whenever he paid a visit, you would join him at his table. It allowed for conversations to flow naturally, breaking free from the confines of the counter where you were typically stationed. During this time, you discovered that Sigma was the owner of the Sky Casino. This revelation left you utterly bewildered as the realisation sunk in that the enigmatic owner of such an establishment had been coming to your small cafe. The contrast between the two worlds, the casino's luxury and your cafe's quaint charm, seemed almost surreal. You told him how you’d love to visit it someday, but you didn’t have the money to afford it, let alone know how to gamble. That gave Sigma an idea.

–

Sigma sat in his office, making a valiant effort to focus on the casino’s paperwork spread out before him on his desk. However, his thoughts persistently strayed to you. Suddenly, his mind harked back to a particular conversation you both had on a day at the cafe.

“My cafe is failing.” You interjected abruptly, breaking the sudden silence that hung between you two.

Sigma cast an inquisitive glance in your direction, his expression puzzled. Yet, his curiosity was met with the sight of you with your head rested on the palm of your hand with a sad smile on your lips, staring out of the windows of the cafe onto the bustling streets, the setting sun bathing you in a warm amber glow. You spared him a quick glance before your attention returned to the window, “It’s all I have had for the past two years, and I don’t think it’ll make it to the third.”

He watched as you sighed to yourself, a frown tugging at his own lips. He wasn’t the best at comforting people. “Rent is due next month. I’ve made it so far without needing anyone’s help,” You shut your eyes. “I want to keep it that way. I just need to try harder.”

Sigma's eyes widened with inspiration as a sudden idea took root in his mind. He rose from his office chair, determined to set his plan into motion. He made a couple phone calls before sending you a quick message.

“Sigma: Hey! I know it’s your day off today. If you’re free, I’d love to have you come visit the casino. :)”

As you read the message, you were seated comfortably on the couch in your pajamas, savoring a bag of crisps. The unexpected message caused you to jolt in surprise, inadvertently dropping a crisp from your mouth. In haste, you sent Sigma a thumbs-up emoji before dashing into your bathroom, determined to prepare yourself swiftly. It wasn't just for Sigma's sake but also to ensure you'd appear at least somewhat presentable, aligning with the dress code of the casino.

After an hour had passed, you emerged from your home, donned in the most presentable attire you could find. To your pleasant surprise, Sigma awaited you in front of your house, standing beside a car with the door graciously open, anticipating your arrival. His face bore a genuine smile that radiated with excitement, and the air seemed to buzz with anticipation. You both entered the car, where a chauffeur took the wheel, skillfully navigating the journey to a helipad. There, a waiting helicopter whisked you away to the entrance of the Sky Casino. Throughout this entire journey, you were utterly awestruck, your face pressed against the helicopter's window, marveling at the world below and the breathtaking sight of the casino. Your sense of amazement didn't wane once you stepped inside the casino, and your jaw remained agape in sheer astonishment. Sigma, meanwhile, couldn't help but admire how your eyes sparkled even more in his whole world, the casino.

He guided you on a comprehensive tour of the entire establishment and even introduced you to a few games. Being unfamiliar with the rules of these games, Sigma graciously assumed the role of the dealer, patiently explaining the rules and how it works. You played a game of Black Jack which Sigma had slightly rigged just so he could watch your face light up and cheer with the other patrons who took interest in your game. You both shared a smile and a chuckle as he congratulated you on your very first win.

As you strolled through the casino's grand corridors, with Sigma at your side leading you through them, he leaned closer, his voice a hushed whisper near your ear, mentioning something about an upcoming surprise.You could feel yourself jump in excitement. He led you into his spacious office, and your eyes widened in wonder as you took in the grandeur of the space. The room seemed to stretch out before you, with high ceilings and tasteful decor that exuded an air of sophistication. A massive desk dominated the far end, cluttered with paperwork and casino-related documents. However, your awe was cut short when Sigma stood infront of you, a wide smile on his face.

Sigma took both of your hands in his, holding them close to both of your chests causing your face to warm. “You can move your cafe up into the Sky Casino! Surprise!” He enthusiastically exclaimed, “It’s perfect. I’ll be able to have your cookies every day, and you’ll be able to bake as much as you want.” He looked deep into your eyes, determination mixed with excitement apparent on his face. “I’ll cover all the costs, so don’t worry. Your cafe would practically never go out of business!” His rambling continued, barely allowing you to register what he had just told you.

“Sigma…” You started, a sad smile on your lips. “That sounds lovely, but..” Your voice trailed off, leaving the casino manager confused.

“I don’t think I can.”

Sigma’s eyebrows furrowed, pinching together. “What do you mean?” He questioned, releasing your hands from his own. “Your cafe will be shut down!”

You took a step back from him, a mix of hurt and confusion evident on your face from his words. “It’s not just about the cafe,” You stated firmly, “I have a life down on land. I’m not just going to give everything up?”

"But you could go down there anytime!" He exclaimed, his tone laced with hurt. As he spoke, his fists clenched at his sides, and his eyes bore into yours. “I just want to save your cafe. I don’t understand why you’d say no to this? I’m trying to help you!”

“And I appreciate it! I appreciate that you want to help me.” You retorted, a hint of anger creeping in your tone. "But, I told you I didn't want help," you stated firmly, your voice tinged with frustration. You crossed your arms over your chest, looking off to the side.

Sigma couldn’t believe what he was hearing. Anyone would take up this offer if it meant saving the thing they love. He would’ve done it for his casino in a heartbeat. He was so confused, it made his head hurt. “I thought you loved your cafe! Why can’t you just let me help you?” He ran a hand through his white locs of hair in frustration.

You groaned in frustration, bringing your hands up to your face to cover it for a split second before dropping them to your side. “I don’t want everything handed to me on a silver platter, Sigma!” The volume of your voice rose with every sentence, furious at this outcome. “Everything I’ve done up until now would just be a waste. I just want to prove to people that I can do things on my own!”

"You're just being stubborn!" He exclaimed, his voice rising with exasperation. As he spoke, his index finger pointed directly at you, emphasizing his frustration with your unwillingness to accept his help.

You gritted your teeth, suppressing the urge to utter any further words, realizing that the escalating exchange of raised voices would lead to nowhere productive. "I’m going home," you declared with a weary tone, ending the discussion abruptly. Without uttering another word, you left his office, heading straight to the helipad. There, a helicopter awaited you, ready to transport you back home.

—

The next few days were quiet. Not once did Sigma text you or come to visit the cafe. While you contemplated sending an apology for the way you had reacted, you ultimately chose not to. Your emotions were valid and deserved acknowledgement. Despite his heartfelt and sweet offer, you held firm to your choice, knowing that life on solid ground was where you belonged.

As dawn's soft light filtered through the cafe's windows, you began preparing the cosy establishment for yet another day, even if you had no customers. The familiar routine unfolded with a quiet determination. You wiped down the counters, meticulously arranged the pastries in the display case, and ensured the coffee machine stood ready to brew. With your back turned to the door, you jumped when the bell chimed. Thinking it was Sigma, you spun around eagerly, only to be greeted by the unexpected sight of a couple you had never encountered before. Despite the initial disappointment of it not being him, a sense of contentment washed over you as you realised you had new customers to attend to. You greeted the couple warmly and swiftly took their order. However, as you began preparing their drinks and snacks, the bell chimed again, drawing your attention to the entrance where an elderly man stood. You efficiently noted his order and returned to your work. Yet, the chime of the bell became frequent, punctuating the moments as more and more customers entered, until the once quiet cafe was bustling with a lively crowd.

You couldn’t believe your eyes. It had been two years since your cafe's grand opening, and you hadn't witnessed it bustling with customers like this before. The question of how this miraculous turn of events had occurred left you utterly perplexed.

That was when the bell sounded.

You glanced over, prepared to welcome another customer, but stopped when you noticed the lilac and white-haired man walking over to you. Your breath hitched, unable to form any words.

Sigma halted in front of the counter, a sad smile gracing his face. His red eyes scanned the bustling cafe and its newfound vibrancy with a sense of satisfaction. He looked back at you, “I hope I’m not too late.”

“No, no. You’re… just in luck.” You responded, your voice tinged with disbelief and astonishment. Your eyes widened in sheer surprise, struggling to comprehend his sudden return.

“Just a small flat white and a chocolate chip cookie to go, please.” He requested, placing the bills in your hand without waiting for you to state the cost, as the price had already engraved itself into his memory.

You assembled his order and gave it to him, your hands briefly brushing against each other as you handed over his coffee, nestled in a to-go cup, and a chocolate chip cookie placed inside a small paper bag. He acknowledged your service with a nod before heading towards the door.

Your mouth moving on its own, you called out to him, “Sigma!” You watched as he turned around with a confused expression on his face. You inhaled before continuing, “I… close soon. Could you wait for me?”

He took a moment to process your request, and then a smile graced his lips as he nodded once more in agreement. He turned his back to you once again, leaving the cafe with the ring of the bell.

…

After the bustling crowd had dissipated for the night, you undertook the task of cleaning and sanitizing every surface in the cafe. Upon completing your duties, you carefully hung up your apron and exited, securely locking the door behind you. To your pleasant surprise, Sigma stood there, casually leaning against the adjacent wall. Your eyes met, and in that moment, you exchanged a glance, both offering each other a weary yet warm smile.

"Do you want me to walk you home?" Sigma inquired, his words accompanied by a gentle tilt of his head as he awaited your response.

You weakly smiled, “Sure.”

The two of you strolled along through a park which was a shortcut to get to your house, with the only sources of light being the lampposts and soft glow of the moon above. A silence enveloped you both as you gazed in opposite directions, lost in your own thoughts.

“I–”

“I’m–”

You both shared a look of shock, followed by hearty laughter after you unintentionally spoke in unison. Sigma couldn't help but conceal his laughter behind a curled fist, the side of his fist pressing gently against his lips as he chuckled. Once your laughter died down, you both looked at each other again with fondness. You had missed this.

You started, “You go first.” Nodding your head at him.

“Oh no, you go ahead!”

You smiled faintly, “Alright.” Inhaling, you started, “I’m sorry for how I spoke to you that day. I know you wanted to help me, I just really wanted you to understand my perspective of everything. I never wanted to ruin anything between us.” You lowered your head momentarily before lifting it again, and you sighed.

"You have absolutely no reason to apologize to me," Sigma responded, his voice carrying a hint of regret. He placed a hand on your shoulder, hoping to comfort you even if he wasn’t the best at it. "I should be the one saying sorry to you."

"I'm sorry," He began, remorse filled in his tone of voice as his eyes met yours’ with sincerity. “During the first few days, I'll admit that I was angry and a bit hurt," He confessed, his brows furrowing slightly as he recounted his initial reaction. "But then I thought about what you said," he continued, his gaze softening as he looked at you again. "The way you spoke about your cafe was exactly how I feel about my casino," He added, "If you had asked me to move the casino to the ground just so you could gamble daily, I would probably say no.”

Under the gentle glow of a lamp post in the dimly lit park, you and Sigma found yourselves standing face to face. The twilight sky above shimmered with distant stars. Before you could say anything, Sigma spoke once more:

“I respect you so much.” Sigma uttered, his voice filled with admiration as he looked into your eyes. His expression softened, and he reached out to gently brush a stray strand of hair away from your face, the pads of his fingers grazing over your cheek, his touch tender and affectionate. “I admire your determination, your kindness, the way your eyes shimmer whenever you’re happy, that beautiful smile of yours – all of these qualities is what make me admire you. And as for your cookies, well, thats a whole separate story altogether.” His words were accompanied by a playful chuckle which you joined in on.

“I could say the same things about you, Sigma.” You fumbled with the edge of your shirt, “You’re such a lovely person. I love how much you care for those around you.”

A profound silence enveloped you, your eyes locked in a captivating gaze, until you finally posed the question that had lingered in Sigma's mind all evening, "Can I kiss you?"

A bashful smile adorned Sigma’s lips, his cheeks slightly burned as he gave you an affirmative nod.

You tenderly kissed his lips, your lips’ softness meeting the texture of his chapped ones. You lifted your hand to hold the side of his face, thumb caressing his smooth skin. Sigma flushed a bright red but still managed to kiss you back. The flavour on his lips carried a sense of familiarity, initially leaving you perplexed until the realisation washed over you:

It was the sweet taste of your cookies.

Extra:

“By the way, did you have anything to do with that massive crowd of people who came into my cafe today?” You questioned.

“Did I?” Sigma looked everywhere but at you, avoiding any eye contact with a chuckle. “Maybe. Maybe not. I just have very nice patrons.”

#Bungou stray dogs x reader #bsd x reader #sigma x reader #fluff #bsd sigma #bungou stray dogs #this took me 5 days

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wyvchard · 2 months

Text

A Crane in a Phoenix's Nest

The Handler visits Agent Phoenix's apartment after the elevator crash.

Content Warnings: Spoilers for The Spy and The Liar, Grief, Angst, Mild gore, References to WWII

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The Handler walks into the apartment building, steps heavy as he began his ascent to his dead agent's floor.

His hand gripped the railing tightly as the cycle of steps, turn a corner, steps blurred together until he ceased.

They should've been here. Not-

He pressed onto the cold metal bar with one squeeze before letting go, taking a breath as he left the stairway.

The cream walls were lit up by incandescent bulbs that were newly replaced. Each door was uniform, save for the number in front of it. The ceiling was low, giving the illusion it would crush him in the midst of his grief.

His hand was shaking when he brought out his their spare key. It contained a pebble with a smiley drawn on it, with the loop connecting it to from the pin of the grenade they'd thrown out of the escape pod.

The door was gently pried, as his old training returning to him. The room smelled of dust, yet hints of the patchouli candle they'd received from him mingled seamlessly with it.

Darkness from blacked out windows halted his ability to see, yet bringing out a flashlight would only arise suspicion. He took a step inside, locking the door behind him as he searched for the light switch.

He was greeted with light blue walls, a reminder of the tenacious requests to see if they can change the walls to something more sensory than the standard white most agency housing were given.

Two pairs A pair of bunny slippers caught his attention. There was a space for shoes right beside it.

It really shouldn't have mattered if he wore his shoes inside. And yet, his hands reached out to the bunny slippers, which slipped perfectly on his feet.

When he got up, he noticed the bowl with scratches on them. He looked at his their key before placing it inside. A wry smile grips his face as he saw the blue 'wall' peel to reveal white.

He'd seen the interior of their apartment before, from the feed of their ocular implant just like that elevator. However, there can only be so much a person can see themselves through their eyes.

The living room was sparse, consisting of a couch and a few chairs. In front of it was a radio that remained unplugged. His eyes never left it for a few moments. There was no wall that separated the kitchen, its countertops and cabinets left empty.

There were magnets on the fridge, one of which matched the one he'd received when they returned from their vacation. He felt a slight shiver at the note Zor left for them that was pinned right behind it.

Many more littered the front, some labeled with names he recognized, others not so much. There were gaps between the magnets, earning him another memory when they shoved magnets through his door slot as protest for not letting them bring it inside the van.

He kept those magnets inside his home after he found them when he was looking through their agency dossier.

It was a cruel reminder that he already made a bookmark of their death date before they even made it to the shuttle. It must be his punishment for choosing to move on that quickly before he even knew them.

And now, he was once again forced to see another casualty as a person, bringing him back to the time a friend another soldier clung to his arm, begging him to tell him they loved their folks.

He looked back at the radio, dinged with scratches from being well loved. Were they listening to the radio while he ran from the bombs and bullets that threatened to take his life, along with many others? Or were they too young to even remember what was going on?

He slightly shook his head as he briefed his mind once again, telling him to focus on finding their documents.

Their bedroom was tidy, unlike the chaos they'd left behind.

The bed was made, white sheets and pillows contrasting the colored bolster they affectionately called a "hotdog".

The dust on the desk filled in the space where a case of pens stood, an unopened box of colored pens right beside it. He gently pried the drawers, only to see most empty, ink stains faded.

He'd found a stack of letters in a plastic envelope, sealed with tape. He checked for any traps before he pried it open.

He wished he hadn't.

It contained the autopsy reports of EOD agents "neutralized" by Zoraxis, its grizzly image burning into his mind. Their families' blood pooled onto tile floor, fear and terror into their eyes.

The sketch behind it was worse. A lone body hidden amongst grass. In the corner of the frame, he saw a severed neck. In the background were a seemingly endless line of soldiers carrying what seemed to be body bags, every figure lanky and malnourished.

"I don't know, Mason. I think the Agency would allow that to happen again if Zoraxis triggers a war. I'd probably come back in that case. Though I wish nobody at home takes up this life. But we'll never know."

The bayonet blade in the envelope confirmed his suspicions. They weren't allowed to stop, or else they'd lose their life. He'd heard the stories from one of the older field agents who came from the other side of the war.

Anna was right. I couldn't leave this life behind.

His parse through the rest of the contents barely registered in his mind, not even when there were discussions about John Juniper in some letters, and a relationship chart with checks and scribbles.

He doesn't even want to remember that blasted actor.

The contents were gently put back as he turned to the closet.

Of course a safe would be there, barely even hidden, as if they left a trap. As if to taunt whoever was looking around. He knew that if he gets this wrong, he would suffer the consequences.

Agent Phoenix shook their head sadly when Anna the defector told them the passcode was her birthday.

He thought long and hard before he pressed the buttons. Part of him felt sick when he remembered he blanked out what their favorite color was in the frenzy of their kidnapping.

It was the day they'd joined the Agency.

The files he'd needed were there, immaculate and neatly prepared as if waiting for him like he's waiting for them.

He shouldn't stay here.

The safe was closed, along with the many other places he'd pried open, as if no one had been there.

However, he did change one thing. He'd turned off the main breaker before he left with their documents and the plastic envelope.

He could use a drink. Or two.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Dang that was long.

I wrote angst again. Whoops. Someone please comfort our handler. He's had it rough.

@phoenix-and-found-family

@the-one-and-only-043

@ghostlystarwanderer (if you wanna be taken off, please tell me)

#ieytd #i expect you to die #reginald crane #My writings #Ieytd spoilers #cw grief #cw gore #cw war mention #Angst #agent phoenix #the handler ieytd #Wvyie Writes

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wangxianficfinder · 1 year

Text

In the mood for...

~*~

1. Hi! I'm asking for three things at the next ITMF:

A) curses/hexes fics, with WWX as the one getting cursed

B) WWX getting adopted by TGCF or SVSS crew

C) LWJ taking care of injured WWX and/or LSZ (it could be from a night hunt gone wrong, or from the curses/hexes request I asked above!)

1A)

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)

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)

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)

❤️ 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)

See Me, Feel Me (Listening to You) by Ghost_Honey (T, 29k, WangXian, Junior Quartet, POV WWX, WWX Needs a Hug, Emotional Healing, Angst, Curses, WWX is an Unreliable Narrator, Yunmeng Bros Reconciliation, The Angst is Mainly Emotional, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Platonic Cuddling)

1B)

the Crossover comp for SVSSS & TGFC has some But in specific there's; 回家/Huí jiā by Exaigon (T, 37k, WIP, LBH/SY | SQQ, WangXian, Parent SY | SQQ, Parent LBH, Good Parent WWX, author's headcanon on qi, Cinnamon Roll WN)

I was Raised on Little Light by azog127 (T, 4k, WIP, LBH/SY | SQQ, WangXian, Fix-It of Sorts, Child WWX, SY | SQQ is So Done, SY | SQQ is Bad at Feelings, JC Needs a Hug, LWJ Needs Friends, Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, at least for now, Family Fluff, Crack Treated Seriously, Light Angst)

Narrative of Strength by MeltedIceAngel (T, 52k, WIP, WangXian, HuaLian, Canon Divergence, Adopt WWX, Found Family, Fluff and Angst, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Protective XL, Protective HC, Adoption, Kidnapping, Attempted Kidnapping, Serious Injuries, Angst with a Happy Ending, TGCF)

the hearth series by eccentrick (G/T, 65k, WangXian, HuaLian, Found Family, fluff with plot, Fluff and Angst, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, Disabled Character, Ableism, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, WWX Isn't Adopted by the Jiāngs, slow burn found family, Adopt WWX, Married HuaLian, Post-Canon TGCF, Kid Fic, TGCF Spoilers)

Hua Xianle by Tiffany_Guinne (Not rated, 120k, hualian, wangxian, TGCF, canon divergence, not Jiang friendly, madam lan lives, WWX adopted by hualian, WWX with different name, overprotective hualian, hurt WWX, WIP)

1C)

❤️Where the nightingales are singing, and a white moon beams. by Moominmammashandbag (M, 33k, WangXian, XuanLi, Pseudo-History, No power AU, Empires, Discussion Of Murder, aftermath of war, prisoner exchange, Grief/Mourning, LWJ POV, Angst, Emperor JZX, Imperial Advisor LWJ, widower LWJ, JYL is the Empress the world deserves, Happy Ending, POW WWX, Reunions, Fluff, Smut, Dysfunctional Family, Poetry, BAMF LWJ, emotional support goat, poetry as a weapon)

~*~

2. 💗💗💗 to you all! 😘 I have an ITMF req: any CQL (or adjacent) fic where Jiang Cheng comes across WangXian with their hands bound together after they get spit out of the cold pond cave and immediately assumes that they are engaged or that LWJ is trying to elope (steal) his WWX, and causes a major ruckus. (JC friendly only for me, I'm looking for hijinks not hate!) Thanks!!!!

~*~

3. I adore teacher wwx fics, for the next itmf may I ask for recs where wwx gets to show off his incredible teaching skills? Can be canon or au, everything works!

🧡 paint smears on sunny days by SnowshadowAO3 (E, 53k, WangXian, Comfort, Fluff and Smut, Everyone Is Alive, Modern AU, Dadji, Mutual Pining, Happy Ending, Brief Alcohol Mention, Masturbation, Blow Jobs, Hand Jobs, Accidentally co-parenting with your son's art teacher, Fatherhood)

oh man, I distinctly remember asking for a previous IITMF post to be tagged with 'teacher wwx' or something like that and the mods cause it had a ton of suggestions and the mods did it, but the search function on this hellsite is the worst and i can't find it. ughhh (Found it! It's #8 of this post~ it was under the tag teacher wangxian lol - Mod C)

Something Yet to Learn by Glitterbombshell (T, 16k, WangXian, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Light Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Fluff) Part 1 in the Joy In the Midst of These Things series

Documented Fact by Scrippio (T, 7k, WangXian, Modern AU, Modern with Magic, College/University, Professors, Minor Injuries, Misunderstandings, Fluff, Zizhen POV, Humor)

in case of fire, break glass by Jenrose (T, 65k, WangXian, Time Travel, Established Relationship, Hurt/comfort, Everyone loves/nobody dies) time travel fic where they teach like, everyone. Both casually and as established lecturers. Bonus, 4 year old a-ying lecturing lan qiren is very funny!

Here Again (Spirits Rise, Unbroken) by TheDefenestrator (T, 74k, WIP, WangXian, Time Travel Fix-It, Slow Burn, Happy Ending) Absolutely fantastic fic but still only two chapters and hasn't been updated in forever T.T

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4. Hi Mods! I hope you are well. For the next Itmf I want to ask for fics where the older generation turns into children or babies or anything in that direction and the juniors having to take care of them. Extra points if it’s time travel and not just deaging. Thank you as always.

Hi! I‘m so sorry but I forgot to add something to my ask for the next itmf. I previously asked for fics where the older Generation is de-aged and the juniors taking care of them. But I forgot to ask for Fics where especially Wei Ying is de-aged and everyone else taking care of him. I saw a similar fic where Lan Zhan was a child and WWX taking care of him, but not the other way around. So… sorry for the trouble! @desperation-is-my-middle-name

grow by cafecliche (T, 14k, WangXian, Age Regression/De-Aging, Character Study, Post-Canon) is always incredible and this one was really great and very heavy on the everyone loves wei ying feels (Both are de aging though, not time travel)

found your writing on my wall by howodd5ever (T, 25k, WangXian, JC & LWJ, JC & WWX, Accidental Baby Acquisition, De-aged WWX, in which jc and lwj have to learn to deal with each other, Post-Canon, Getting Together, Referenced Child Neglect, discussion of parental loss, child food insecurity, Case Fic, kind of, Nightmares) Meant to include this as a second fic for 4)

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

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5. I got addicted to work ID: 25765369 (Second Bite of the Cherry) on ao3. However it's a WIP and unfinished. So does anyone know any fic that is similar to this? Or maybe a Wei Ying that is simply Madam Lan?

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6. hi! first of all thank you so much for the work you do! i’m fairly new to the fandom and you’ve been a truly amazing resource for my newfound fan fictions needs ♥️

i was wondering if for an upcoming itmf if you had any recs/favorites for fics where wwx & lxc are like really good friends/bros? i’ve looked through most of the “wwx & lxc” tag on ao3, but was wondering if you had any recs that maybe weren’t tagged with that but still had a solid relationship between them? not just supportive brother to lwg (which i totally adore), but specifically good friends with wwx

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7. Hello, mods! What's one or two fic that no one talks about but deserves more, like your underated favorite fic that you can reread all week?

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

mountains, we met by fruitys (E, 79k, WangXian, Historical, The Handmaiden (2016) Fusion, Enemies to Lovers, Misunderstandings, Secret Identity, Touch-Starved, Sharing a Bed, Mutual Pining, Getting Together, Angst with a Happy Ending, falling for the person you’re supposed to be swindling: the love story, getting revenge on the people who manipulated you: the saga, and some cws……., Implied/Referenced Suicide, Suicide Attempt, Mental Health Issues, Emotional Manipulation, Blow Jobs, Rimming)

paired wings soaring by typefortydeductions (E, 33k, WangXian, Modern, slice of life, domestic bliss, angst, fluff, smut, hurt/Comfort, kissing, bdsm, artist WWX, poetry translator LWJ, slight somnophilia)

undone (the spreadsheet song) Series by spookykingdomstarlight (E, 282k, WangXian, XiYaoSang, LWJ/OMC, Modern AU, Artists, Communication Failure, Mutual Pining, mutual obliviousness, Demisexual WWX, Eventual Smut, Getting Together, Mentions of Past Lan Wangji/OMCs, Crack Treated Seriously, Friends to Friends With Benefits to Lovers, Angst with a Happy Ending, Non-Linear Narrative, Established Relationship, Pre-Relationship, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Separation Anxiety, Family Drama, Dysfunctional Family, Self-Worth Issues, Casual Sex, College/University, Temporary Long Distance Relationships, Relationship Pressures and Stresses, Insecurity)

simple love | 簡單愛 by auberjing (E, 19k, WangXian, Modern AU, Hurt/Comfort, Slice of Life, Getting Together, Falling In Love, Strangers to Lovers, Caretaking, Angst and Feels, Grief/Mourning, Eventual Smut, Happy Ending, Hopeful Ending, Nude Photos, Nude Modeling)

Howling by MimiSpearmint (E, 40k, WangXian, Modern with Magic, Mortal Instruments Fusion, Horror, Eldritch, Domestic Fluff, Single Parent WWX, Witchcraft, Getting Together, shifter!lwj, yllz!wwx, Intercrural Sex, Hand Jobs, Angst with a Happy Ending, Switch WangXian, a bit of a degradation kink, anti-STI sex talismans, Anal Sex, Oral Sex)

The Fifth Type of Non-Contact Force by Caixx (T, 83k, WangXian, Modern AU, High School, Slice of Life, Slow Burn, Fluff and Humor, Actually Somewhat Canon, Mutual Pining, Horny Teenagers, Angst with a Happy Ending)

过眼烟云 (Like smoke in the air) by frostferox (T, 14k, wangxian, modern, homage to The Farewell, food as love language, weight loss and grief carried by diaspora, family feels, drinking during wedding)

Creatures of Emotion by thievinghippo (E, 33k, wangxian, modern, rimming, phone sex, blow jobs, office sex)

A Life Without Regrets by naqaashi (M, 74k, WIP, WangXian, Time Travel Fix-It, Angst with a Happy Ending, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Crack Treated Seriously, musical cultivation, Slow Burn, Mutual Pining, Rogue Cultivator WWX, Murder Husbands, Happy Ending, PTSD, BAMF WWX, Cultivation Sect Politics, Worldbuilding, Módào Zǔshī & The Untamed Combination, No Yīn Iron, Genius WWX, Inventor WWX, Artist WWX, Musician WWX, Bad Parent JFM, Bad Parent YZY, Cultivation Theory, Sentient Burial Mounds, Dysfunctional Family, Grief/Mourning, Parent-Child Relationship, Angry WWX, Angst, No Golden Core Transfer, BAMF LWJ, Idiots in Love)

🧡 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)

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8. itmf mama lan bonding with lwj, or encouraging him to pursue wwx, or her bonding with wwx, etc. anything along those lines! thank you 😊

The Same Moon Shines Series by sami, Winterstar1412 (Varies, 790k, 44 Works, WIP, WangXian, Tags vary per work)

A Mother’s Curse (A Mother’s Blessing) by Eudoxia (E, 33k, WangXian, A/B/O Dynamics, Omega WWX, Alpha LWJ, Huli Jing LWJ, Huli Jing WWX, Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Curses, Case Fic, Animal Transformation, Arranged Marriage, Misunderstandings, No Sunshot Campaign, No Yīn Iron, Cloud Recesses Study Arc, ish, Mentions of Ace LXC, Mentions of Ace WN, Knotting, Rimming, Blow Jobs, Oral Sex, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Mating Bites, Mating Bond, Size Kink, 69 (Sex Position), Mpreg, Pregnancy, Pregnant Sex, WangXian Have a Breeding Kink, Intersex Male Omegas, Vaginal Sex, Vaginal Fingering, Cunnilingus, Squirting)

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9. Hi!!! Do you have any fics where yllz! wwx is just "at his worst"? Like, little to no sleep, eats too little, kind of scary for the wen renmants sometimes, a time-bomb, kind of unhinged, and being held together only by resentful energy maybe? The story can be anything but pls a lot of angst and maybe a happy ending?? or maybe not ^^. I just think that a really fucked up, dark, half-dead yllz is pretty cool. Sorry if this is too long, and thank you <3

No night as deep as my night. by orange_crushed (E, 17k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Kind of A Vampire But Also Not? Unspecified Powers, Character Turned Into Vampire, Blood and Gore, Non-Consensual Body Modification, Mutilation, Loss of Limbs, Vomiting, Trauma, Sick Character, Child Neglect, Harm to Children, A-Yuan Will Be OK I Sincerely Promise, But It's Grim There For A Second, Suicidal Thoughts, Penetrative Sex, Rimming, Spit As Lube, Sex In A Cave, Survivor Guilt, Angst and Romance, Angst with a Happy Ending) this is after the wens are gone though

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10. Hi! For the next itmf, I'd love to read anything with wangxian defending each other from other people's insults. Thank you!

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11. Hi! For the next in the mood for, can I get some time travel fix its with both Wei Ying and Lan Zhan remembering? Thank you so much!! @vulpestars

Til Death Do Us Part by Thyone14 (Not Rated, 69k, WIP, WangXian, Time Travel, Fix-It of Sorts, Fluff and Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Implied/Referenced Character Death, WWX Needs a Hug, Protective LWJ, Soft WangXian, POV LWJ, mostly, POV Alternating, No Smut)

In My Defence, I Have None (For Never Leaving Well Enough Alone) by SemiLocalCryptid (T, 73k, WIP, WangXian, Time Travel Fix-It, Established Relationship, BAMF WWX, BAMF LWJ, POV NHS, but only for the first chapter, POV Alternating, between Wei WuXian and Lan WangJi for the rest, probably, Angst with a happy ending)

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12. For itmf, are there any fic where Wangxian exchange bodies like soul swapping

Thanks

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, lwj is a service top fight me, Misunderstandings, and a little bit of hurt/comfort as a treat)

💙 Holding shreds by barisan (T, 5k, WangXian, Cloud Recesses Study Arc, No Sunshot Campaign, Body Swap, Not for sexy shenanigans, Chronic Pain, Hurt WWX, Hurt LWJ, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Abusive YZY, Bad Parent YZY, Bad Parent JFM, Good Uncle LQR, Hurt/Comfort, Medical Inaccuracies, POV WWX, Angst with a Happy Ending, Jiāng Family Bashing, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Getting Together, Smart WWX) my favorite by my beloved barisan

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13. hi, i have an itmf request 🙏🏽 are there any fics where lwj tells wwx about saving a-yuan much sooner? i know they were very busy with canon and all but i read a few fics where wwx agonizes about failing his son, and i just want him to KNOW 😭 thank you! @danmeiireader

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14. I'm wondering if anyone's got any recs for fics where the characters have wings? Doesn't matter if it's canon setting or AU

Wing!WuXian Series by TheLineyPool (M/T, 40k, WIP, WangXian, Crack, Gods, Wingfic, Non-Accidental Baby Acquisition, White Crow A-Yuan)

Two is a Pair, Three is a Murder by cosmicworry14 (E, 6k, WangXian, Wingfic, winged!wwx, demonic bird wwx, Bird/Human Hybrids, Protective LWJ, Possessive LWJ, Possessive WWX, Animal Instincts, Courting Rituals, Blood and Gore, Dark)

so there is a fic, where the lans were birds, however wangji has black feathers like his mom and he was shamed for it and would bind his wings so no one saw it and then he meets wei ying who encourages him to be himself. if anyone knows the name of this I think it would work

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15. hello, hello! hope you have a wonderful day/afternoon/evening.

for "I'm in a mood for...", any fic where LW achieved immortality status during or after the sunshot campaign and be treated as such when other characters find out.

Kinda like Jammingjackelopes' Time and Time Again's LW where he's immortal all-throughout the story and he would often summon/form ice when he's pissed off. Those parts always remind me how he's not mortal anymore and i love how he still spoils WWX.

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16. Hello! for the next itmf is there any fics where wwx pulls a bssr and kinda "isolates" burial mounds from the cultivation world and their drama?

The Trouble With Politics: a Treatise on Jiang Sect Deputies Gone Rogue by Sect Leader Wei Wuxian by stiltonbasket (G, 40k, WIP, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Yílíng Wèi Sect, or: the one where yu zhenhong is a wild card, Smitten LWJ, Domestic Fluff, Politics, Happy Ending, Sect Leader WWX, Fix-It of Sorts, JZX still dies though)

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17. hiii thank you for all of your hard work!!! I was wondering if you guys had any fics along the lines of wangxian meeting their younger selves or younger wangxian meeting their older selves? if there's any recs like that it would really be delightful! ig this is an IITMF ask

You Will Become Me by pft_a_Frog22 (Not Rated, 3k, WangXian, Ambiguous/Open Ending, Time Travel, Good Uncle LQR, broken relationships, Yúnmèng Jiāng Sect Bashing, (implied), JC Bashing, (also implied), but its there, Golden Core Reveal, Suicidal Ideation)

A Wedding For The Ages by pupeez4eva (Not rated, 6k, wangxian, time travel, humor, everyone lives au)

Timely by apathyinreverie (T, 8k, WangXian, Time Travel, Domestic WangXian, Fluff, Fix-It, Post-Canon, Cloud Recesses Study Arc, Mutual Pining, wwx is sunshine personified, Smitten LWJ, Genius WWX, Romance)

Hanguang-jun’s Husband by lilacevergarden (T, 6k, Time Travel, post-canon wangxian being disgustingly in love, wwx bullying teenage wangxian, Yeah that’s it, Jealous WWX)

Listen to the Voice Inside Your Head by pupeez4eva (M, 12k, wangxian, time travel, humor, post-canon, sometimes it’s ok to bully your younger self)

💖 Travel Back Down That Road by iSwallowMy_converse (T, 8k, wangxian, time travel fix-it, BAMF WWX, YLLZ WWX, sometimes it’s ok to bully your younger self)

💖 From the Future for the Past by friedchickenlord (G, 27k, wangxian, time travel, fix-it, fluff & humor, happy ending, denial, pining, bullying ur younger self is in fact ok)

ripples spread out when a single pebble is dropped into water by RoseThorne (G, 1k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Time travel, Crack and Angst)

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

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

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