#not enough fics out there about the GENERICS... I MUST TAKE MATTERS... INTO MY HANDS. GRAGH

[chromaji]

*writes first draft of a uo fic* *blows up*

[hannieehaee]

ARE WE STILL FRIENDS (teaser)

18+ / mdi

summary: being besties with two of the most popular idols in korea always came with a few rumors here and there, but what happened when one of your platonic besties suddenly started acting a little friendlier than usual? or worse, what happened when they both turned their affections to you?

content: idol!au, hybeidol!reader x idol!mingyu, hybeidol!reader x idol!jungkook, 97liner!reader, friends2lovers, not mingyu x jk (they just share u like all besties would<3), not that much plot, afab reader, smut, oral (f and m receiving), body worship, fingering, penetrative sex, etc.

(^ no actual content warnings in the teaser)

wc: 1.3k (teaser); 8.2k (full fic)

release date: april 27th

or you can check it out on my ko-fi or patreon today by subscribing to either one!

a/n: decided to write a little surprise fic!! ive been getting into bts lately and so this was born<3

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"Do you think the company would get mad if we did a live together right now?", Jungkook pondered out loud as the three of you sat on different pieces of furniture around his large living room.

"Yeah."

"They didn't seem to mind when Jungkook and I did it that one time," disagreed Mingyu.

"Yeah, but I'm the girl. I'm the one who wakes up to new dating rumors every time we hang out publicly."

"Yeah, but people must know we're just friends by now, right? It's been years."

That much was true.

You weren't sure of the exact date, but your friendship with both boys predated the overall international success of Kpop as of recent years. When you had met both boys, they had barely battled their way through puberty – though you weren't faring any better.

The media enjoyed making the three of you a subject, knowing that you were evidently the closest out of all members of the popular 97s friend group. Being the only girl integrant, it was common for people to have the misconception that you were romantically involved with either Mingyu or Jungkook, seeing as you were often spotted in public with them.

You'd gotten used to the rumors and hate that came attached to being their friend, now usually leaving those things in the back burner rather than letting them bother you. By now, the three of you were a bit more careless about being seen together. Being seniors in the industry, those things didn't matter much to you anymore, but being seen inside Jungkook's house would surely stir up the worst rumors to date, so going live with him was entirely out of the question.

It did bother you sometimes; the double standard. While Jungkook and Mingyu could even interact in public or mention each other freely, any time you did so you were met with hate from either fandom, sometimes even your own. It also made you worry about your future. Could you ever be in a relationship without facing the brunt of all the hate that would come your way? At 26 years of age, it was a frustrating reality to think about.

Jungkook got up at some point to go fetch some more bottles of soju. Apparently the seven bottles the three of you had drank collectively weren't enough for the large men you were drinking with.

While Jungkook was gone, Mingyu got up from his seat on the couch opposite to you and took a seat down next to you, invading your personal space like he usually did.

"Worrying your pretty little head about something?", asked Mingyu as he leaned over you, taking the occasional sip from his drink.

"It's nothing."

"C'mon, what's up?", his hand ran up and down your arm in a soothing manner.

Invading your space and being overly touchy usually meant that he was tipsy. But to be fair, you were a bit tipsy too.

"Do you ever think about dating?"

"Who? You?", he chuckled.

"No, dumbass. I mean in general."

He seemed to sober up a little at the mention of the subject, straightening up a bit as he sat sideways on the couch so he could look at you fully.

"What's got you thinking about that?"

"I don't know ... I'm 26 now. Isn't it time I started settling down? Have someone filling up the other half of the bed," you pondered, feeling a bit pathetic as you did so.

Mingyu let out a quiet sound of confusion, eyebrows furrowed and head leaning to the side in question.

"Isn't that what me and Jungkook are for?"

Not taking him seriously, you chuckled and took a swing of your almost empty bottle of soju.

"I'm serious, Mingyu. I mean a romantic relationship, where, you know, it's just us and we do couple things and we settle down and all that stuff."

"What can you do with some guy that you couldn't do with us?", he grabbed both your drinks and set them on the table.

Suddenly, his demeanor seemed a bit more serious, which confused you.

Where the hell was Jungkook with those drinks?

"I- Are you serious? Do you need me to tell you?"

"Yeah, I mean, why would you need to look for some guy if you have us?"

Oh. He was serious.

"Because we're friends?," you were beyond confused, "I can't go out with you romantically, or move in with you, or," you gulped, "or sleep with you."

"You can't?", he scoot closer to you.

"Mingyu ..."

"I just mean ... Why would you go after some loser when we can just take care of you?", his hand went back to touching you, though this time it ran up and down your thigh rather than your arm. That false semblance of innocence was gone, "You want someone to keep your bed warm? You don't even have to ask ... I'll do it- we'll do it."

Through his short speech, he got closer and closer, just as the air in the room got heavier. The atmosphere itself shifted dramatically, specially with Mingyu so close to you.

Mingyu was the touchiest man you'd ever known. Being his best friend, you had fallen victim to his touchy demeanor endless times, but never like this. Never while his eyes were hooded and heavy with some emotion you'd never seen in them before.

"Gyu, I-"

"Can I show you?", he rasped, eyes now on your lips.

"Y-you're drunk," you were sure that must've been it. The combination between drinking and talking about dating must've short circuited his brain.

"Just tipsy ... Tipsy enough to get the balls to tell you how much I want you ... but lucid enough to remember how many times I've thought about this."

The hands on your thighs moved to your waist, closing in on you, slowly pulling you toward him. By the end of it, you were halfway sitting on his lap.

"You've thought about this?"

Your nervous hands went to his shoulders for support, easily giving in to him.

"So many times. Jungkook too," he chuckled as he began burying his head in your neck, lips ghosting the sensitive skin.

Lacking any control of your body, you repositioned yourself to allow him better access to you, now fully on his lap as he sat sideways on the couch, arms wrapped fully around you and face buried in your neck.

"Gyu, I-"

"Yeah? Is this okay? Is it okay if I kiss your neck like this? This is what you wanted, right? Someone to take care of you?", he mumbled as he made his way to your ear with breathy kisses.

You were burning up, completely powerless to Mingyu. It was kind of embarrassing how easily you gave in to him. How you had been entirely unaware of his want for you until five minutes ago, yet you were now pliant in his hold, willing to listen to his senseless argument about him and Jungkook being good replacement for a relationship. You also had that to think about – the Jungkook aspect of it all.

The reminder of Jungkook's presence woke you up a bit, remembering that you were literally sitting on your best friend's lap while in your other best friend's living room.

With half a mind to let Mingyu do whatever he wanted to do with you, you powered your way through your decision to pull him away from your neck.

"Gyu, wait. Kook could get here any minute-"

"Don't stop on my account. Seemed like you were having fun without me."

Your head snapped to the door at the introduction of the raspy voice of your best friend, finding said friend leaning against the doorframe with a few drinks in one hand and a few ramen cups stacked on the other.

"Jungkook-"

"So, can someone catch me up?", he got closer, dropping off all the food he was carrying on the table and sitting next to you on the couch.

...

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[brynn-lear]

When Cuckoos Throw Ores [Yandere!Jing Yuan x Reader]

Questionable Overview: After transmigrating to Teyvat, you and Jing Yuan had lived like family on your shared apartment as getting-by descenders. But, you made an error too grave. You hid the anonymous love letters you received from the person you should’ve trusted the most— and now you’ve got yourself a broken mind. [Fic written for May June]

CWs/tags: yandere themes, isekai, moments where you wish Jing Yuan just committed murder instead so it would hurt less, mentions of failed childbirth, nadia & vlad are adorable, implied hysteria, cute n' wholesome beginning w/ found family to "man... man.", gaslighting gatekeep is JY's passion.

"I'm an adult, Jing Yuan! I think I have the right to leave as I please."

Have you ever been so incredibly fascinated by such a mundane object that all worldly noise drowns?

"The right to trample on my heart? To leave me to drown in my despair while you obsess over a single ore without a single thought for me? I must say, it doesn’t seem very sound. Stay put while I call for Doctor Baizhu."

Have you ever had your hand reach out ever so slightly without you realizing such? For your fingers to curl— for you to seize a trinket as though you were compelled by an existence— an idea higher than any mortal comprehension? As though it was fate? As though it was a fruit you weren't meant to take a bite off?

But the most mundane of all…

"There’s no need! Because great General and Emanator of the Hunt Jing Yuan—"

Have you ever lamented a life that "never" happened?

"— I have the right to mourn the happy ending you took from me!"

Though those uninitiated will rehash the root of events in your arrival to the chasm, the most knowledgeable would start the accounts from your arrival to Teyvat.

You did not step foot alone.

When your worldline was destroyed, so, too, was Jing Yuan's. 

Lady Ningguang greeted you both with a good measure of skepticism. You were both "descenders.", though it was soon made evident that your origins are different. He was from "Xianzhou Loufu," and you were from "Earth."  Course, despite your shared tragic circumstances, not everything shall be handed on a silver platter for unfortunate souls. Ningguang was kind enough to provide you both with a shared apartment complex near the fishing port and since then, you and Jing Yuan had a bond not so dissimilar from siblings. He got a job as a general, and your current position is a little more flexible than your previous one.

Whatever principles and studies were available in the previous realms you lived in, they were carried over in Teyvat. Each word circulating about Jing Yuan’s undefeated sword and lance techniques makes you smile; he, in turn, would enthusiastically applaud your sold artworks and STEM innovations. It makes you wholly embarrassed every time he makes what is supposed to be a celebration of his mission’s success into a congratulatory speech for what you’ve done in the same timeframe. Didn’t matter how minute it was. His comrades had already considered the long-standing tradition as a not-so-private joke.

His lack of personal praise worries you sometimes…

There’s a stark difference in your approach to this new life. You mourned for yours being gone; while he doesn’t speak much about his.

“No rush,” he'd say. “All truths shall reveal itself in due time.”

You know about his world, though vaguely. He has a striking resemblance to the character from Honkai: Star Rail. Course, that implies he had gone through similar ordeals as the character. 

“I am an old man, there is nothing for me to grieve.” He told you once. “I have… already witnessed comrades pass, and then some. Have you encountered the phrase: there are fates worse than death?”

Jing Yuan closed his eyes.

“I… find it easier to assume that it might be the only way to put old conflicts to rest.” He shook his head and downed his final shot of baijiu. Yuan sighed, tasting the aftermath in his breath.

“It’s better to put a permanence in death than another forced rebirth.”

He poured you a shot.

"Some memories are better left forgotten. And that applies to you, too."

Whatever he said felt untranslatable to you, hence, you gave up on making more inquiries. If the day comes and he wishes to open up, you'll be there for him anyway.

Or so you thought.

“Heard you’re planning to add another medal to your jacket.” 

Jing Yuan nearly halted from tying his long hair up. You watched his shoulders tremble, likely from trying to compose himself.

“Ha! You've heard a half-truth, I wasn't scheming on anything, it was merely handed to me.” His tone was calm, but you heard the well-hidden smugness.

You shrugged and sipped your coffee nonchalantly. 

… You seriously wish his uniform didn't hug his form that good. Just staring at him makes the room feel degrees hotter. 

You cleared your throat.

“I didn't say anything about schemes, Jing Yuan. Suspicious.”

“Oh?” He hummed, almost sultry for your ears.

…Curse him and his damn beatific smiles.

This playful banter is as natural as the dawn of day. Rather than spending the early morning getting ready for the day, you've both grown accustomed to teasing the other person. He, in his finely ironed uniform, and you, in your comfy pajamas. 

“Since when have I besmirched my name by squandering time? Rude of you to imply that slothfulness rules over my life.” Jing Yuan joked before he moved another piece. “You wound me, dear (Y/n).”

Due to the nature of the conversation, you hadn't thought of your next move much as you continued to probe him. “And what exactly are you doing right now instead of reporting to the Qixing, General?”

He smirked. “I am on-duty, am I not?”

“By talking to me?”

“I have been bound by mundane duties in both my past and current lives, and I must say, engaging with a Person of Interest such as yourself has not only been productive but also mentally stimulating.”

You paused. 

Person of Interest…?

Might as well curse him and his fancy cursive way of implying something too. 

Your nose scrunched. “Are you saying I'M on the Qixing’s watchlist?!—”

“Not in a bad light; don’t worry your pretty head over such menial matters,” he ruffled your hair as he craned over, gazing at your disgruntled morning expression with a loving vigor. “They have an eye for your talent. No Ministry would ever obsess over a clean criminal record.”

You grumbled as you attempted to fix your hair, despite lacking any energy. “Thanks, that calms me down. Especially with the talks about criminal activity on the rise and all.”

He laughed at your snarkiness.

“Is this your best attempt at prying information? I must say, your current occupation suits you. I can now place a finger as to why the thought of Lady Ningguang hiring you as a profiler put me in tremendous unease.”

“Oh don’t be a prick, Yuan.” You chuckled heartily as you gave him a playful slap— which he no doubt avoided. “But seriously, can’t you tell me more about what’s happening?”

There were no further words needed. Such rumors had been on the forefront of the people’s minds: a group of rogue “mercenaries” had found new temptations in banditry— and had the nerve to stew misfortunes on the main harbor itself. As a newly enforced general, Jing Yuan had, of course, been subjected to handling this situation under the ever-watchful gaze of the Qixing. A challenge, as he likes to label it. Whatever helps him sleep at night, you’d reply.

Although, it would certainly soothe YOUR insomnia better if he were to divulge even a hair-sliver of detail in regards to how “safe” this mission truly was.

“(Y/n), there is no cause for concern.” He pulled back, placing his hands on your shoulders. “You know my repertoire— else I wouldn’t consider you a close friend.”

Your heart ached for a second.

In small snippets from the multiple conversations you’ve had with him, you knew he kept his list of close friends few. There’s always a hint of guilt in his voice when he talks about those named Baiheng, Jingliu, Yingxing, and Dan Feng in passing. 

“And I’m just worrying over you,” you lightheartedly glared and waved your hand dismissively. “You know, like a real close friend.”

You both grinned in unison as if telling each other that neither would back down from this “argument” any time soon. He snorted and messed your hair up more. Over the time you’ve spent in each other’s company, your near-telepathic way of conversing has become quite an eerie issue for other mutual friendships. 

Not that either of you minded this. It’s always nice to be understood. 

“I know that look in your eye. Don’t add a part two from last night’s horror stories, please.”

“Then, I’ll take my leave,” he buttoned his jacket. “Last reminder before I go: you have arranged a meeting with Nadia this afternoon.”

“Thanks,” you huffed. “But unlike you, I don’t sleep in and forget my schedule.”

You swore that even after the door was closed, you heard him chuckle yet again. After that, he was gone.

Honestly, with someone with a “life-loving” temperament like him, you’re unsure if he’s easy to please— or too damn good at faking it for his good.

You heard soft knocks against your window.

Slowly, a grin forms on your lips.

“Hello, little man…” You cooed as you stood up and opened for not only the fresh Liyue morning breeze to enter…

But for a diligent little cuckoo bird to deliver its very special package as well.

You’ve always had a soft spot for animals…

“Hmm?”

Your eyes softened as it dropped its parcel and leaned its body against you, warming itself by sitting cozily on your window ledge. This little bird is quite the skilled messenger— always dropping by as soon as Jing Yuan takes his leave. As to why it suspiciously arrives as soon as he is gone, you’re unsure. Such a sneaky creature; you can’t help but adore it.

That’s not to say its deliveries are not as equally charming.

You chuckled as you elegantly unwrapped the ribbon. The letter was elegantly written in a scrawl you’ve familiarized even with eyes closed for the past months, yet it still holds an intensity that makes your heart flutter. 

There it was. The two words that keep you going better than any coffee brew.

“My dearest, (Y/n),….”

“Another letter from Vlad, I’d hope?” You sneaked from behind.

Nadia yelped, hitting you almost immediately. The delay was surely from being on a lovelorn cloud-nine, but her Fatui training that earned her last name definitely should’ve made you double-think.

You shriveled at the pain and she awkwardly cradled you.

“Oh shucks— I’m so sorry, (Y/n)! I-I didn’t realize it was y-y— Don’t scare me like that!” 

“Sorry! Sorry!” You hissed, blaming only yourself for the stinging aftermath. “I-I’ll get over it.”

Nadia guided you to the empty seat beside her. As soon as you were seated, she wasted no time to spill.

“The contents were far too adorable for my heart, oh, dear Tsaritsa, you NEED to read this.” 

An eyebrow was raised. Saying you had a suspicion that something like this would happen would be an understatement— when it came to Nadia, it was more like routine. It had been regular for you and her to get together at least once a month to chat over letters that you both received. Nothing about the time you spent with her was dull. She's the reason you adapted to the Liyue way of life so well. As you were both foreign to the culture— you and Jing Yuan are admittedly the extreme cases— you and her were eager to recount experiences in times of distress. And times of pure unbridled lovesick joy, such as this.

“C’mon, pass it.” You tried to say cooly, but the glimmer in your eyes betrayed your high school-like excitement.

“Same time.” Nadia huffed. "Can't have you gatekeeping your own letter!"

You pulled out yours from your purse.

Nadia wasn’t the only one with something to present to the class. This is just like a teacher forcing students to read their discreetly passed notes out loud. 

Nadia has her Vlad.

You have your Nay Jung I.

Instantly, you both suppressed a giggle in the abrupt exchange.

Nay Jung I. You know little about him, and that intrigue keeps the fire going. When you see a white cuckoo passing by the window, you immediately know it means well. A sight that makes your heart skip a beat. Instead of pushing eggs, it slips a love letter whenever Jing Yuan isn’t around. All coming from a man you can’t track down.

That’s right.

You have a secret admirer.

As you read through the middle of Vlad’s letter for Nadia, you heard your very-much-an-adult friend bite back a squeal in front of you. Nay Jung I may sound like a feminine name, but he was a man. You could’ve sworn you saw Xiangling laugh from the corner of your eye as Nadia tugged your sleeve around like a fool.

“Oh my God?! He wrote that?!” Her lips were akin to wobbly lines toddlers would draw when mimicking the sun’s rays. 

“I find myself constantly catching glimpses of you in my daydreams, my mind flooded with what could be— what should be. Forgive me for my selfishness, but I fear it won’t take long before I can no longer bear the thought of being without you… What?! That’s so SWEET?!” Nadia clutched your love letter tightly, eyes wide as though she was the recipient.

Xiangling, bless her soul, had to peek behind her.

“I wish I could have the courage to reveal myself to you. When I doubt myself, my thoughts turn to you… Aww… I wonder who Mister Nay is and what did you do to get him this in love?” Xiangling playfully pouted, which made Nadia grin wider, almost teasing her. “Geez. When will I get a boy to send me letters?”

“I’m sure you’re going to get one or two someday. A way to a man’s heart is through his stomach, right?” Nadia shrugged as she folded the paper and hid it. “Plus, I fear you’re too young for this.”

“Careful, Dia, she’s the one preparing our food.” You joked.

Nadia has grown more friendly to locals for the better since you started sharing meals here. Everyone knows the feelings between her and Vlad were mutual— but neither of them was willing to confess. With Nadia hoping he initiates, and him densely hesitant on whether she reciprocates. One of them can end this phase should they abandon pride or cowardice.

But Nay Jung I?

You can’t find his records anywhere… And he had told you that it is a fake name by your fourth letter, much to your chagrin.

So, you’ve settled with this arrangement. For now, you are both friends, despite knowing he has feelings for you from the start.

“Mister Nay definitely has it bad for you, Mx. (Y/n).” She gave you a closed-eyed smile. “You need to write back immediately! The man’s probably starving for it!— Oh, right, the pot!!!”

As the chef rushed back after being distracted, you gave Nadia’s letter back to her.

“Any chance of rain?” You asked.

“Cloudy with negative one percent chance that I’ll run to Northland Bank and confess to Vlad.” Nadia spoke sheepish;y.

“That’s at least five percent higher than yesterday.”

“Well, this last letter was adorable.” She swooned.

“Mx. (Y/n), you seem incredibly free at the moment, care to have a chat?”

You turned to look at the new person who joined in.

Fur coat, a distinct mole placement, a sharp haircut, and eyes self-assured enough to conceal their need for urgent assistance, it has to be none other than—

“Miss Yelan,” you gave her a polite smile. “To what do we owe the pleasure?”

Nadia sat up straight, shifting to her work mode. “Is there some business you require from the Northland Bank?”

“I have no quarry with you, Madam Nadia, what I do want—” Yelan tilted her head, her eyes calculating. “Is to speak to (Y/n) in private.”

You paused, recalling the conversation you had this morning.

‘I have been bound by mundane duties in both my past and current lives, and I must say, engaging with a Person of Interest such as yourself has not only been productive but also mentally stimulating.’

Maybe this is what Jing Yuan was warning you about this morning.

“Fine, I concede.” You sighed, swiftly snatching your letter from Nadia’s hands and tucking it inside the pockets of your inner jacket.

“Lead me to where you most need me.”

Over the years you’ve spent on Liyue, you’ve had another habit you’ve been nursing on the sidelines.

Epigraphy.

Better yet, it’s for the sole purpose of decoding ancient artifacts. Before you were transmigrated into Teyvat, you found that inspecting artifact descriptions and reading through lore strewn in notes and dialogues were a great part of what made playing Genshin Impact enjoyable. You devoured theories whether they were from YouTubers like Ashikai or other CCs who were eager to unravel and analyze myths from different civilizations. To be inside THE sandbox was the greatest treat. If your friends were here, you have no doubt you’d have plenty who’d look and try to pick apart Mister Zhongli’s brain.

Unfortunately, you never managed to catch his eye.

And the biggest misfortune of all, you caught Miss Yelan’s instead.

“It’ll take me a few weeks to decipher and solve this puzzle…” You told her hesitantly. “And I can’t guarantee anything either.”

Yelan only tilted her head. Strands of her hair hid her expression, and the only body language to be read was the way she played with the die on her fingers. You wondered if she was deciding your fate by giving it a roll…

You looked at the inscribed walls.

A man with horns… and his partner wearing a long hanfu… His partner… Reminds you of a beautiful cuckoo bird.

You sighed.

When she bargained for a chat in “private”, the Chasm was the last location you had in mind. Even more, it did not occur to you that she aimed to use you as a translator. For a language you only learned a few years ago.

You knew you couldn’t exactly deny a member of the Qixing, especially with how much you carried a moral debt for Lady Ningguang, so you agreed under the condition that Yelan wouldn’t snitch to Jing Yuan.

He might just give you the silent treatment if he found out you were here.

But back on the walls and the puzzle mechanism in the middle of the room…

Both were seated under the shade of a tree… 

Each holding a cup of tea…

“Damn it, why me?” You cussed out loud.

You seriously want to tell her that she should’ve chosen Zhongli. 

Not that you’d know that Yanfei begged Yelan to hire you for the job.

Yelan made her dice vanish. “If you need further assistance, and by that I meant necessities such as food and water, call for Wenyuan or Shanghua. They’ll materialize right in front of you.”

On the next wall, the horned man tightly held his partner, with tears falling from his eyes… His tail was more apparent in this depiction, but there were crystallized ambers and statues all around…

Like they were running…

Away from him…

You faced Yelan.

“Yelan, can’t you call for someone else—”

You blinked.

She was gone.

You don’t like being here.

You don’t like this cave.

You’re not sure whether you liked the fact Yelan invited you here. On one hand, you were grateful for the opportunity, but at the same time, you thought yourself unqualified for whatever piece of ancient Liyuean history was waiting to bite you in the ass. 

It didn’t take a genius to know that whoever the drawn man was, he was a force to be reckoned with. You played enough Genshin to know that yakshas are not to be trifled. If this ended up as an Azhdaha scenario, you wouldn’t want to be the nameless NPC who died along the way.

Should’ve commissioned the traveler.

As you progressed in your decoding, the texts were beginning to gnaw you. 

“Have you heard the tale of Lady ███ ███?”

You trembled at the thought.

Curse Jing Yuan and his ghost stories.

The story wasn’t even that frightening.

What got you was how Jing Yuan sold them. He had preached it as though he had been a witness. It’s just a typical unnerving tale to keep children alert, but he had always been far more persuasive than you.

“When she and her husband were out exploring, her husband left her while she sired his heir. He left her there to die.”

Jing Yuan’s eyes narrowed. You quietly applauded his commitment to the bit. Should you not know any better, you would’ve thought he hated that man more than anything.

Like he was seething with jealousy.

“Some claim he hid her there to fight for a war, some say it was out of love… In my eyes, it was an unforgivable neglect.”

Jing Yuan claims sharing ghost stories was a common occurrence from when he used to teach his disciple. But you’re not an idiot. You can sniff out a reason why he loves to bring these stupid tales.

“Days felt like a prison tally. She had forgotten what it felt to live in the sun.”

“She lived only by fulfilling basic needs. No matter how thick the mud was, no matter what was within the soil— all she could do was bitterly swallow what was to come. She bit her tongue on the ever-growing famine— and wished that her child would survive.”

Jing Yuan does not want you anywhere near the chasm.

“So when it was time to give birth, she had no assistance. She pushed her child out as hard as she could, and laid an empty egg.”

Before you could even ask why a human would lay an egg, Jing Yuan continued.

“But they both passed away.” 

“Legends say, that’s the reason why the lumenstone ore glows. It contains the watchful gaze of a scorned mother and unborn child…”

“And if you aren’t careful, you too—”

“Could be trapped inside it.” 

You scoffed.

Was the tale stupid? Depends on who you ask. Was it sad? Sorta. Was the thought of two ghosts— possibly more— watching you as you were forcibly dispatched to read through The Chasm’s secrets terrifying? Given the dark and brooding atmosphere, it was a quiet yes.

“Hmm? I— I solved it…?”

You blinked.

Maybe you still retained your skills as a Genshin player. Anything for a luxurious chest is what you would’ve said. And yet, it still baffled you that one did appear.

When you unlocked it, you saw no “primogem” like you quietly hoped (it would be funny if you unlocked a wish function, but that’s unlikely…)

Instead, you found a dusty ore.

“Great.” You muttered dryly. “Just what I needed.”

It was amber in color, same as the clothes the man wore in the wall paintings. You’re at a loss on how you should report this to Yelan.

“Better than nothing.” You spoke, laughing slightly. That sounded like something Diluc would say. You should buy a dandelion wine after this hard work.

Quickly, you fished out the gloves in your pockets. It was made of nitrile, which should protect the ore from possible oil and moisture from your hands. Yelan was very insistent you wear it.

But as soon as you touched the ore…

Your consciousness slipped away.

There was a man in front of you.

But you couldn’t see his face. 

“Dearest ███ ███…” The horned man smiled delicately as he sipped his tea. “It has been centuries since our first wedding ceremony. Do be honest with me, do you still hold the same passion as before.”

These memories appear to you in a blur.

“No, I do not.” You heard your voice say as the man’s shoulders slowly deflated. His amber eyes looked down, and his smile began to strain.

With two fingers, you lifted his chin.

“If anything, my love for you has grown stronger,” you spoke. “For you and I shall never let our draconic instincts dull, and our union will be the greatest treasure we shall hoard in this never-ending flow of time.”

“…/n…!”

One hand took his scaley hand and the other held his cheek, caressing softly.

“Promise you shall return?” You heard yourself mutter, this time weak and hopeless.

He leaned against your palm, purring as though it might be the last time he’ll savor your warmth.

“You know I do not make promises, ███ ███.” He spoke firmly. “What I keep are contracts. And I have vowed to make you happy, for as long as I live.”

“…(Y… (Y/n…. snap… out…!”

“Contracts normally sound so cold, but your honeyed voice makes it sound so romantic.”

“You know well, my love, in all my years, I’ve witnessed endless contracts and agreements. Whether it was tangible or verbal— each one was a significant chapter to someone’s life.”

The horned man softly detangled your fingers from his long brown hair and kissed your hand.

“But only one brought forth complete change. Our matrimonial agreement. The contract we signed gave me the most happiness. I’ve never signed a happier contract than this one.”

“And I share the same sentiment.” You cooed, almost cheeky. “And I hope our future child shall feel our love as well.”

He rested his head on your shoulder and sighed.

“The day shall come, my love.” He spoke. “Just wait for me, until I fulfilled what the Heavenly Principles desires.”

“Of course,” you hugged him back. 

“I shall wait for you, my dearest…

“(Y/N)!!!”

You flinched.

Suddenly, you’re not in the mountains. You’re not hiding under the shade of a tree with warm-hued leaves. You were…

You were sitting on a patch of grass, just outside the chasm.

And Jing Yuan is mad.

He had a cold unmerciful glare. His built frame towered above you, casting a large shadow. It was already nighttime. Normally, only the moonlight and the lamps from afar should be the only source of light here, but his golden eyes seemed to glow. As though it was ready to call forth an entity you were not prepared to face.

You know the depths of his anger. Years of living inseparable from him has made every communication almost telepathic and that hadn’t changed. You can read it in his breaths, in his stiff and tall posture, in his unnerving gaze.

He is threatening you to spill. Saying without words that:

There are fates worse than death.

But your pulse was steady. But your breathing was calm. But your expression was blank.

You weren’t terrified.

And you can read that deep down, that scared the General more.

“Nay Jung I…”

For a moment, Jing Yuan’s eyes widened— as though there was something he was the only one privy to knowing. His face had a mix of surprise and disbelief before he steeled himself.

“Nay Jung I?” He scoffed. 

“What of him?” Jing Yuan asked.

“He’s my soulmate.”

As soon as those words left your mouth, brief incoherent syllables sputtered out of his mouth. You evoked more emotions in him this time around. You saw flashes of shock, what seemed to be happiness, hope, and then utter confusion.

“...What?”

“I saw him.” You said, calm. “I saw him as soon as I touched that rock. My soulmate— he had long hair and eyes like a dragon— I think he was a dragon, and so was I. I think my soulmate is in Liyue and he’s hiding behind the name Nay Jung I.”

Jing Yuan opened his mouth, before thinning his lips.

This time, you were certain.

He was not only mad. Jing Yuan was sorely disappointed.

“I understand…” 

You know the expression on his face. You read him like a discipline you mastered in epigraphy. He thinks that… 

You have gone “cuckoo.”

He turned around, no longer facing you.

“I’m sorry then, (Y/n).” 

Jing Yuan does not sound sorry to you.

“What for?”

There was silence for a moment, before he spoke again, voice bitter and vile.

He was not sorry.

He was furious.

He was hurt.

He was jealous.

“Nay Jung I is the leader behind the past terrorist attacks.” He paused. “And I killed him.”

You haven’t recovered ever since.

Every medical “professional” you’ve encountered told you that you were hysterical. That you just hallucinated what you saw. It isn’t possible that the visions you saw were Nay Jung I anyway. 

Maybe they were right about the last part, you don’t want to believe it. 

It was in your instincts. That man had to be your husband in the past. Who cares if you came from another world? Maybe you were an Expy. You had to be. That person— the one who reminded you of a cuckoo bird in those walls— had to be you in another universe. 

It had to be.

Your real soulmate is out there.

And Nay Jung I isn’t dead.

But you’ve never been good at persuading others.

Soyourefusetobelieveityourefusetobelieveityourefusetobelieveityourefusetobelieveityourefusetobelieveityourefusetobelieveityourefusetobelieveityourefusetobelieveityourefusetobelieveityourefusetobelieveityourefusetobelieveityourefusetobelieveityourefusetobelieveityourefusetobelieveityourefusetobelieveityourefusetobelieveityourefusetobelieveityourefusetobelieveit—

“General Jing Yuan, is (Y/n)…?”

Outside the apartment, Mister Zhongli and Jing Yuan stood by the window, peaking at your form. You were so engrossed by your inner conflicts that you couldn’t hear them.

“They’ll… move on from you, eventually.” Jing Yuan spat back coldly. “I’m not the God of Contracts, but I keep promises that do not fail.”

Zhongli’s face crumpled in anguish.

“May I ask a question? Just to sate a bit of curiosity, of course.”

Jing Yuan’s eyes narrowed. Zhongli took that as a yes.

“Are you Nay Jung I?” He asked. “I did not see his name on the list of the deceased criminals—”

“Yes, he and I are the same,” Jing Yuan silenced him. “Nay Jung I is an anagram of Jing Yuan. You can reorder the letters and confirm it for yourself.”

Originally, Jing Yuan had hoped to woo you with a romantic tale of an anonymous admirer. But, in your delirium, you had mistakenly believed that Nay Jung I was the same man in your visions. 

It was repulsive.

Never before had he wished to scream so loudly. He had not felt this much anger when he discovered the crimes his old friends had done. He had not felt as betrayed as when you claimed love for Nay Jung I, but it was not him.

He wanted to summon the Lightning Lord to destroy Liyue right then and there.

It was a frustration he had never felt before. Not when he was training with Jingliu. Not when he was scolding Yanqing. Not ever.

But Jing Yuan was not an impulsive man.

He prides his patience.

He prefers to scheme quietly rather than flashing bold moves.

Jing Yuan sucked in a breath between his teeth. 

“I suppose it’s my turn to ask.”

He shut the windows and Zhongli’s heart ached as he could no longer see you.

But then he turned to look at Jing Yuan.

And he knew…

Jing Yuan is much older and wiser than he looks.

“Tell me, Rex Lapis,” he spoke sharply. “Did you wed this world’s version of (Y/n) (L/n) and leave her and her child to die?”

…

…

…

That silence was enough.

Jing Yuan’s private investigations behind your back were right.

In the vast “multi-verse”, there is a version of you that married this dragon who descended from his Archon status.

“I... have wrought upon them great suffering. I am unworthy of their affections. Should a day come where (Y/n) enacts the fury of my wife and child on their behalf, it will be justly deserved.”

Zhongli did not further elaborate.

Whatever happened in the past, it still haunted him to this day. Lingering in the back of his mind, dulling his self-confidence and wits. Maybe it’s why Yanfei thought you should investigate the cave. Maybe she wanted the alternate version of ███ ███ to come back.

But she's gone.

Jing Yuan took a step closer.

“Your wife is dead, Rex Lapis. They are my (Y/n), not yours.”

“I-… I know.” Zhongli— no— Morax spoke, voice laced with grief. “I know she and (Y/n) are not the same, however, I…”

Another step.

“If you wish for their happiness, you will continue to not speak to them. You have done enough damage.”

Morax closed his eyes mournfully. “I am well aware of this”

Another step.

“Let me take care of (Y/n). Let me make them happy.”

And another.

Jing Yuan stared deep into Morax’s soul.

In all his years of living, it didn’t occur to Morax that he’d find another familiar cuckoo again.

But it wasn’t his wife.

Jing Yuan took another step.

This man in front of him was pushing and pushing…

“Let this conversation be a verbal contract,” he said. “That I, Jing Yuan, vow to make (Y/n) happy, and that you, Rex Lapis, shall step down as a final way to atone your sins of uxoricide and filicide. Do you accept?”

Like a cuckoo throwing an egg off the nest.

Forgive me, dearest ███ ███.

I am unworthy of you, let alone this alternate incarnation of yourself.

Morax inhaled deeply. He remains in his head, yet he can't escape the present. The more time he spent searching inside himself for solutions over his approximately 6000 years in Teyvat, the more evident it became what the sensible path of action was. With open eyes, Morax welcomed the return of the present. He observed the vivid hues of existence. In the vicinity, he heard Jing Yuan's pet cuckoo bird. But most of all, he felt his age.

Whatever time was appropriate to dream of a family— it had long passed him.

I am but an old man who deserves to fade away quietly.

And he…

Has the same vigor Morax once had.

That obsessed look.

That tight, suffocating hold.

Just like staring at a reflection of himself, centuries passed.

Jing Yuan, too, was a man depraved. Worse, he is a man who lost everything, clinging only to (Y/n) as his only solace in Teyvat.

Morax noticed the way Jing Yuan took a walk with you, with one arm draping around your shoulder to ward off those he deemed unwanted.

Morax noticed the way Jing Yuan brags about you with his men in each available opportunity, socially claiming you his.

Morax noticed the way Jing Yuan glares at someone who got too close when he thought you weren’t looking, pushing suitors away.

Morax noticed the way Jing Yuan rarely talks about his story and would rather talk about something you had done, making you a large part of himself.

Morax noticed the way Jing Yuan only cares about you, and not even a sliver for himself.

He would rather not see him destroy himself the way he had done long ago.

And just like that, the General got rid of his greatest rival— Liyue’s archon and your husband from another life.

He is out of the nest.

“I accept.”

May June can now message Jing Yuan

[ovaryacted]

POOLSIDE || Dieter Bravo

PAIRING: Dieter Bravo x lifeguard! afab reader || WC: 1.8k

SYNOPSIS: You take a job as a private lifeguard for a Hollywood actor. Turns out, you got much more than what you bargained for.

CONTENT/WARNINGS: MDNI/18+. NSFW. Smutty. Drug usage - weed via a joint. Lots of banter and cursing. Ambiguous age gap [Dieter is canon age, Reader is 21+]. Allusions to sex (pussy eating). Dieter may be ooc due to unfamiliarity. He is still: horny, unhinged, and loves drugs. Ending leaves much to the imagination. I don't know how Hollywood agents or lifeguarding work, just have fun with it, it's supposed to be funny.

A/N: Hey there, surprise! This is for the Summer Lovin' Challenge hosted by @pedgito! I got "by the water" for Dieter Bravo with the prompt: you can’t keep distracting me while I work, and this is what I came up with. I will admit, I am fairly unfamiliar with Dieter as a whole, though I had to read a bunch of other fics to get a sense of who he is, so this was a challenge. But I hope this is enjoyable to those who like him cause I had a little fun going out of my comfort zone. This is my first time writing for this character and I am rusty, please be nice. Dividers are by @saradika-graphics. Anyway, likes, comments, and reblogs are greatly appreciated. <3

NAVIGATION | MASTERLIST | AO3

When you signed up for a lifeguard gig from a Hollywood agent, you expected to watch over some celebrities’ kids by their large private pool, racking up hundreds for babysitting spoiled brats and lounging by the best-filtered chlorine available. Yet what you got was the complete opposite. Instead of watching over little kids, you were burdened to monitor an overgrown child in the body of a man.

Dieter Bravo. You’ve heard of him, some veteran actor you never really paid much attention to. The name sounded distantly familiar, remembering him at some award shows like the Oscars and recalling his name popping up in some of the selections. At the end of the day, you didn’t give much of a fuck who he was, but when you could take a job with a stipend large enough it would give you that guaranteed comma in your bank account, you didn’t object.

When you reached his private home in Santa Monica, it was quaint and modern enough not to bore you. You arrived around 11 am before the sun reached the highest point in the sky, setting up your gear and peeling away your baggy t-shirt and denim shorts to reveal the red cheeky one-piece you wore underneath. It’s better to play the part, right? At least, that’s what the agent mentioned.

Unsurprisingly, Dieter was about to step into the pool when you entered his private yard, isolated from the rest of the neighborhood and with a generous view over the hills. He tilted his head to the side as he looked at you, eyebrows lifting at the sight of a new person in his space, in a bathing suit, no less.

“You must be the lifeguard my agent hired.” It was a matter-of-fact statement, yet you didn’t fail to miss how his warm brown eyes landed on your chest before meeting your gaze again. “I don’t need a babysitter, you know.”

“Apparently, you do. Look, I’m doing this for the pay. You stay on your good behavior, and I’ll be out of your hair. Simple as that.” A straightforward agreement, you think, he’s a grown-ass man. Surely, he can listen to the bare minimum of instructions.

“Deal,” Dieter said, leaving you to your own devices. You watched as he materialized a joint from his pocket and planted it between his plush lips, sparking his lighter to inhale a drag. He exhaled through his nose, pungent smoke filling the distance between you two and making you scrunch your nostrils. You eyed him silently, holding your hand out and shaking your head when he gestured the joint in your direction for a pull.

That’s why he needed a lifeguard. Getting high off of god knows what in the pool must have been his favorite pastime before he did something stupid or endangered himself. Figures.

Propping yourself on one of the lounge chairs lined by the side of the pool, you got comfortable, tinted shades sitting on the bridge of your nose. You could lean back for some time and catch a nice tan for the first two hours, giving you something to do. You don’t think the man in question will bother you too much or do something as stupid as to drown on your watch, but you’ll do your best to ensure that doesn’t happen.

To your amazement, Dieter was quiet, humming to himself and enjoying his high as he swam about and floated in the pool. When he wasn’t looking, you’d take a couple of glances just to be sure he hadn’t sunk to the bottom. Those were also the moments when you’d get a good look at him, sneaking peeks of his face and body over the blue water.

In a way, he was handsome, with a rugged charm that brought a level of interest you didn’t initially notice. He had a head of curly brown hair and a patchy beard adorned his jaw. His soft abdomen had a trail of light hair lining from his belly button to his groin. Selfishly, you took in the way his light blue shorts hugged his hips, thick thighs shifting to keep his body upright.

Leaning back into the chair as if you hadn’t been picking apart his appearance for the past 3 minutes, you pretended like somehow this strange man wasn’t sneaking into the recesses of your mind and the depths of your gut.

It helped he was cute—just a little bit.

After lunch and munching on some catered sandwiches, you moved from lounging in the chair to sitting along the edge of the pool, dipping your feet in the water. All things considered, you thought Dieter’s house was nice, probably better than his apartment in New York, but you’d kill to have either.

Setting your sunglasses on the top of your head, you could practically feel this man watching you from the other end of the pool, taking in your movements with unfocused eyes. You ignored him, thinking it was just a coincidence or an outcome of his high. But as the faux obliviousness of his stares continued, his dramatic sighs and tricks in the water came after, squinting in his direction to gauge what he was up to.

He began to swim towards you until his hand gripped the tiled edge, running the other through his wet hair to pull it back. You caught his stare, dilated pupils hazed with a silent question.

“Can I help you, Dieter?” Speaking to him directly now, this was probably the first thing you’ve said to him since your heady warning earlier in the day.

“I’m bored.”

“Not my problem.” You shrugged again, the man groaning like a toddler on the precipice of throwing a tantrum.

“C’mon. There has to be something else we can do while you sit all pretty and shit.” Dieter said out loud, making you raise an eyebrow at the catch of certain words. It must be the weed. Ignore him.

“You can always pay and leave me alone to do anything else.” You replied, your attention drawn to one of his hands gently touching your ankle as your foot pushed against his wrist.

“You’re telling me you’re not bored too?”

“Oh yeah, bored out of my fucking mind. But you can’t keep distracting me while I work.”

“This isn’t work. It’s a babysitting job, a bad one at that.” His fingers ran over the top of your foot absentmindedly, and you had half a mind to kick his hand away. You relented, thinking it’d be worth your time if you played your cards right. 

“Have you seen yourself, Dieter? You need surveillance 25/8. I’ve been counting down the minutes to see when I will find you face down still as shit in the pool.”

You half expected him to curse you out or even be upset with what you said. Instead, he laughed, hearty and loud, bringing a wide grin across his face and giving you a perfect view of his smile. You couldn’t help but chuckle along with him out of ridiculousness.

“If you want to keep me occupied and alive, I have an idea of what we can do.” Dieter’s tone turned suggestive, something you didn’t miss. His strong arms wrapped around both of your legs and you welcomed the contact, wanting to know what he could mean, for research purposes of course.

“What do you have in mind?” You grew curious, almost taking back the words that tumbled from your mouth before his eyes gleamed with mischief.

“Well…we are alone. Nobody’s out here but us.” His thumb teasingly caressed the side of your thigh, doing nothing to quell the warmth bubbling in your core with every stroke against your skin. Suggesting to fuck a client? That wasn’t in the job description, nor was there an NDA.

“You’re joking, right?”

“Am I laughing?” Dieter was closer now, maybe too close, his chin resting on the top of your legs as he looked up at you. He reminded you of a puppy dog waiting for his treat, except you were dealing with a complete horndog with no sense of self outside of LSD and bad actor accents.

“Consider it a bonus for taking such good care of me.”

“What am I? A prostitute?” Your eyes rolled in defiance, brushing off what you think was his terrible flirting if that’s what you would call it.

“For the fucking record, I pay all of my sex workers generously. But no, this is just me showing my appreciation.” Dieter’s lips came down to kiss the newly tanned skin of your knee, prompting you to release the breath you didn’t know you were holding.

“You barely know me.”

“Hasn’t stopped me before. I’m sure you can say the same for yourself.” He couldn’t wipe the smirk from his face, and you don’t think you’d want him to.

“It’ll be much more fun than just watching me for the rest of the day. Don’t even gotta see my dick, I just want to taste you for a while.” He placed another kiss higher on your thigh as his fingers pressed into your calves under the water. “What do you say?”

In silence, you mentally listed the many reasons why this was a bad idea. What would it look like if you fucked Dieter Bravo the first day you were supposed to look after him? A sex addict and drug fiend who somehow still had an acting career despite a change in reputation. Red Flag was written all over his forehead in bright, bold letters.

Yet, those warnings didn’t push you away farther than you needed to be. You were already here, so you might as well leave with something. Besides, it was only 2 in the afternoon, you had some time to spare.

Dieter watched in hunger as your legs parted in front of him, supporting yourself on your arms and you smiled as you did. He was so close he could practically smell you, the stretchy material of your bathing suit hiding the treat he sought after the moment you stepped into his yard. If he closed his eyes, he could imagine the taste of your pussy in the back of his mouth, coating his tongue with your slick to quench his thirst on this hot summer day.

He tried so hard to conceal the moan that slipped between his lips, suppressed by his teeth digging into his bottom lip.

“You better make this worth it, or you’ll find yourself a new lifeguard.” Dieter laughed, thick fingers wrapping around your thighs and hands on your hips. He gave your body a soft tug, bringing you to the pool’s edge and closer to where he could have his mouth on you.

“Promise baby, you’ll be coming back every day this whole summer.”

©️ ovaryacted 2024. Please don’t repost, copy, translate, or feed into any AI. Support your fellow creators by reblogging, commenting, and liking!

[seireiteihellbutterfly]

Snapped

A/N: Ok, so, villain! Nanami isn't my cup of tea. For me, he's my comfort character, the one I go to at the end of the day for hugs and forehead kisses. However, as one of my moots said, with all the bullshit happening in my life at the moment regarding my job, Nanami would be so pissed off for me. Is this fic indulgent? Yes. And I don't care. However, it is my first time writing villain! Nanami and I'm not sure how well it's been portrayed. Pairing: Villain! Salaryman! Nanami Kento x Fem!Reader Warnings: MDNI, violence, gore, mentions of murder, death, general corporate shittiness Summary: In the midst of a layoff, your boyfriend Nanami snaps at his own office, leaving a bloody trail in his wake. Word Count: 2.7k

Nanami masterlist | Taglist Form

Nanami’s jaw is tense, mouth set in a grim line as he exits his meeting. Another long day of listening to how the company’s profits didn’t meet the quarterly requirements, about how their stock value was plummeting, and how their finance experts must work harder at pushing their client portfolios into buying rather than selling.

He pinches the bridge of his nose with his fingers, sighing, wondering how to combat this feeling churning in his stomach. The sense of repulsion, knowing what he did for a living, this constant hook behind his navel, yanking, pulling, warning him that all he was doing was making rich people richer, enabling a gluttonous corporate’s insatiable appetite for more money. 

He checks his schedule, a slight crack of relief filling his being when he sees it’s lunchtime and he exits his office, slumping against the elevator wall, running his hands through his hair. The sun shines brightly outside, indifferent to the gathering gloom inside him as he walks to a restaurant nearby. He gives his order and walks back to work, sandwich in hand when his phone rings.

Your name flashes on the screen and he answers quickly, hoping a quick chat with you would pull him out of this foul mood…only to be hit with your weepy voice, making his eyes widen.

“Ken. I-I.” Your breath hitches and he quickly tries to calm you down. 

“Take a breath darling. Are you ok?” 

Your voice shudders as you continue. “I walked in today. Completely normal. Ready to take on the day. Except when I got to my office, our HR representative was waiting for me near the door. She led me into one of the huge conference rooms, the ones they save for guest visits and symposiums. There were like, at least 100 other people in there with me.” You pause to take a breath, tears leaking from your eyes, and continue.

“We were logged into a Zoom call and told by our CEO that the company’s profits were not high enough to keep up with their budgets. They went on and on about all these different numbers but in the end, none of it mattered. They told us they had no choice but to do a layoff.”

Nanami’s heart tightens in his chest. Trying not to let his feelings seep through, he asks, “And then what happened?”

You sniffle and carry on with your tale. “The HR representative told us to open our work laptops and that we would receive an email officially notifying us of the termination. It came not less than a minute after we all logged in. I have two weeks left. They’ll pay me out for that time whether I go in or not. And after that…” Your voice trails off, tears choking your throat.

Nanami listens patiently, but there’s a quiet, simmering rage underneath. “They let you go?”

“Yes. Me and my whole team.”

“Even though you guys delivered on a project that brought in almost 2.5 million dollars in profit?”

“That’s what I thought too. HR insists it was arbitrary and that they were only retaining teams that they thought would maximize their profits. I guess 2.5 million dollars isn’t considered a profit.” You laugh, the noise filled with bitter irony. “I thought I was more valuable than that. 4 years at this place, Kento, 4 years! I could understand if I wasn’t meeting deadlines or refusing to be a team player-”

“You went in on Sunday for the last 6 months and no one said a word of appreciation to you.” The blond salaryman can’t keep out the bite of irritation in his voice, aimed not at you, but your employer. “When was the last time you slept in on a Sunday? When we were able to get brunch, or simply lie in bed together? They didn’t even compensate you for it.”

 You hear the harsh tone in his voice and sniffle. “I’m sorry Ken I-”

“No.” He cuts you off. “Don’t apologize. I’m not mad at you darling. Please understand that. I just hate that they used you and that didn’t matter to them when they chose to let you go.”

“I have some savings but... Kento, I don’t think I can afford my share of the expenses soon. Rent, utilities.” His heart almost breaks at your next words. “I understand if you don’t think we should continue living together under these circumstances.”

A lump forms in his throat, so painful, so intense, threatening to consume him like a tumor. You chose to follow him outside of the world of sorcery. You chose to study at the same college he did. You chose to get a corporate job despite the talent you had for jujutsu. You did it for him. He thinks back to the days of you sharing a college dorm, broke students picking up small jobs at cafes and delivering groceries. The ratty apartment you’d both found with your first paychecks, the celebration the both of you had in the cramped kitchen when both of you landed your first serious jobs. The move to the nicer neighborhood, with a coded entrance, toasting each other, thinking you’d made it.

Only to be worn down by corporate mundaneness. That chewing feeling of being a cog in a machine, a hamster on a wheel, ever-turning, never-ending, stuck until you die. Money. The big controller of the universe. The ultimate checkmate to everything. Money. Money. Money.

“No.” His voice is gentle. “Don’t even for a second think about moving out. I love you darling. You’ll find something else. I can tide us over till then. We’ll just cut back on some of our other expenses till then. Ok?” The thought of coming home to an empty apartment weighed down on him. Even back in the olden days, the dorm, the ratty studio that you’d both shared, you had always been there. The concept of living alone was long since driven out of him. The idea was unbearable, coming home and not seeing you there. 

Your eyes fill with tears. “I love you too. Thank you.”

“No need.” Kento’s gruff voice calms you and you cling to it like a prayer. 

“I have to go. I need to surrender my laptop and badge. I’ll see you at home, ok?”

“Yeah. Go ahead. I’ll be home in a few hours.”

The line disconnects, leaving him feeling strangely hollow. Companies really didn’t care. It was all bullshit propaganda, the act of ‘being a family’. You were just a collateral statistic. With a groan he forces himself back to his own office, his cubicle, the appeal of the sandwich lost to him now. He forced himself to eat, knowing there was another block of meetings coming up and there was no guarantee about when he could catch a break again. To his displeasure, he sees his manager walking hurriedly in his direction, and averts his gaze, hoping to finish his lunch, but to no avail. 

“Nanami-San!” The man unctuously calls, putting both his hands on Nanami’s shoulders, setting his teeth on edge. A manila envelope is tucked in his armpit as his fingers dig into Nanami’s blazer. He had spent a grueling two hours with this person in an earlier meeting, where he had praised Nanami for being able to sell one of their poorer-performing stocks, raising its portfolio value. The celebratory way it had been said as if Nanami hadn’t conned their clients into buying mediocre stocks which wouldn’t fetch them any benefit in the long run, made the bile rise in his throat. The contempt he holds for this man is tangible, yet he swallows his feelings and pretends to look calm.

“Yes?” he asks politely, trying not to squirm away from his touch.

“Nanani-San, I have news! Very good news for you. Please come with me.” He pulls him away into a private meeting room, Nanami dubiously taking a seat and looking at the man wearily. His manager sits down opposite him with barely contained glee, setting down the manila envelope on the table. 

“They want to promote you Nanami-San!” he bursts out, as though the energy of containing this information was eating at him from the inside. For a second, Nanami’s face goes blank. Then he realizes what he’s just been told.

“A promotion?” he asks again carefully. 

“YES! You’ve been killing it with your clients, raising our stock portfolios, and our profit margin! Hard work deserves to be rewarded!”

Despite his distaste for the man, Nanami blinks and then feels his heart expand. It wouldn’t matter if you were laid off, with the promotion. He could take care of both of you, and you could be peacefully at home while you job-hunted. You wouldn’t need to be in a rush, could maybe take some time to yourself…make up for all those Sundays you went in. A weary smile touches Nanami’s lips as he imagines the life he could provide for you. Could it be, that there was a lining after all?

He glances back at his manager, who appears to have more to say. “Was that all…?”

His manager gives him a nauseatingly saccharine smile, and Nanami feels the temporary prick of joy vanish. 

“Well, the position you’d be up for is more of a leadership position. The higher-ups want to make sure you’re a man capable of navigating difficult situations. Sometimes, things must be done, even when they’re unpleasant.” Nanami’s stomach is roiling, but he swallows and looks at his manager squarely in the face.

“What do you need me to do?” he manages to clip out.

His manager pushes the manila envelope towards him. Feeling like he’s been given a sentence, Nanami opens the envelope, and from it, removes three employee dossiers. He recognized the names as he looked through them, three young men who had started here around the same time he had.

“We’re going to need you to tell these three people that they’re fired.”

His manager’s words fall into Nanami’s ears deafeningly. Swallowing, he looks at the man with narrowed eyes. “I’m sorry but…why?”

“They’re underperforming.”

“Their numbers are consistent.”

“Consistent is not the same as moving up.”

“So you want to fire them because they’re not bringing in more money? Is that all?” Nanami drops the dossiers onto the table, an acrid taste building up in the back of his throat. 

“Well, you would be firing them. Think of it as their three salaries combining to equal your promotion.”

A chill washes over Nanami’s body. “I refuse.”

“Don’t you want the promotion?” his manager cajoles him, like trying to mollify a child with a lollipop.

“How about I get the promotion first, then you ask this of me?”

“Ah…if only the world worked that way. But no. We need them removed first. And since you will be taking over the department they will be leaving…you have to do it.”

Nanami looks at his manager, at this greasy, servile man, who he has hated ever since he started working here. His smug face, as he waited to see what he would do. He thinks back to you, let go for no other reason than “it’s what’s best for the company”. A red haze fills his vision.

“You’re despicable.” Nanami says quietly, his hand curling into a fist, feeling a tremor of cursed energy flowing into his arm, something he hadn’t succumbed to since leaving Jujutsu High. A turquoise aura begins to envelop him. His manager appeared to have not noticed but continued to give him that leery grin. 

“It’s your life versus theirs Nanami-San. I imagine a wise man would do what he’s being asked.”

Nanami stands, his impressive height and build towering over the man. 

“Fuck you.” 

The blond raises his hand, which is glowing with cursed energy now. His manager stares at it, taken aback. With a swift moment, Nanami’s ratio technique hits him, cleaving his body straight down the middle into two halves, grotesquely falling to the floor with a splat, blood spraying everywhere, covering the walls, windows, and the door of the meeting room.

A terrified scream is heard outside. In a daze, Nanami leaves the conference room, indifferent to his coworkers who are now gaping at him and scrambling to get out of his way, several of them shouting in panic at his state, his crisp suit spattered with fresh blood.

He walked into the conference room where he knew the higher-ups were sitting for their next meeting, locking the door as he did so. The men all move away in shock, a few even call his name, but he simply doesn’t care. The meeting room fills with the horrified sounds of men pleading and begging for their lives, and in a spray of red…silence. 

Nanami unfeelingly walks to his car afterward and drives home. Later when you open the door, you gasp and cover your mouth.

“Kento! Are you ok? Did you get into a fight?”

When he simply sits down on your living room sofa, you try again. “Kento what-”

“Grab me the whiskey bottle, would you darling? Don’t bother with a glass.” Dumbstruck, you obey, and retrieve the bottle from your liquor cabinet and hand it to him. He takes a deep swig before setting the bottle down. His sharp eyes, the same color as the alcohol in the bottle, fixate on you.

“We need to leave. Now.”

“Wh-Why- Kento I need an explanation!” You take in his bloody appearance. “What happened?”

“I could get into details. But simply put, I killed my manager and all the higher-ups at my company.” He watches you intently, his sweet, innocent girlfriend, who deserved more than what life had handed you. Your eyes widen.

“Kento- you- you murdered those men in cold blood?” your voice is a hushed whisper, as you look at the man you had spent the last several years with. Not a capricious person at all, so there was nothing that could convince you that Kento snapping like this was a coincidence.

“Darling. There’s no point sugar-coating things. Yes, I killed them. Now the question is, are you coming with me, or staying here?” There’s no malice in his voice. It was a genuine choice he was offering to you. The murders were his cross to bear, and it wasn’t right to involve you if you didn’t want to be.

You cover your face, trying to organize your thoughts, trying to get your breath to even out. Kento reaches out and pulls you closer to him, leaving bloody fingerprints on your clothes. “We don’t have much time my love. If we want to disappear, then we have to do it now.”

You look at him, then, to his disbelief, you ask, “Where would we go?”

He takes a shuddering breath, relieved that you were in this together. “It’s not the police we need to worry about right now. It’s the sorcerers who will undoubtedly put two and two together and realize I’m the culprit. However, I’m hardly the first sorcerer to do a revenge killing against civilians.”

“You’re not?”

“There’s an underground network of sorcerers who went off the grid for similar reasons. It’s seedy, but darling…we’d be free. None of this corporate bullshit, or punching in and out on a clock. We’d take jobs only we wanted to take. Freelance assassins, essentially. We deserve this. Life is full of shit anyway. Might as well pick what we want to do right?”

His words hit you with clarity, and despite all the suddenness and ups and downs in the last ten minutes, your resolve steels. “How long do we have?”

“Not too long. Pack a bag, essentials only. I only have a vague idea of how to contact this network but I’ll figure something out. Now quickly.”

It takes less than 10 minutes for you to pack a suitcase. Your boyfriend slips out of his blood-stained garments and into fresh clothes, hurriedly packing another suitcase alongside you. You glance around the apartment one last time, a wistful look in your eyes as you remember how hard the both of you had worked to get here.

But Nanami was right. It was all bullshit. You hadn’t chosen to stay with him out of blind loyalty, but because deep down, you knew he always had the right reasons. The both of you look at each other, a deep connection of understanding passing between you both, and with a resolute goodbye to the past, walk out of your front door together, unsure of what lay ahead. 

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[mountttmase]

Following on from the fic you posted today (loved it and your writing by the way) could you write y/n’s labour and the new babies birth and then after ollie comes to the hospital and is so excited to meet the baby sister he really wanted.

In Awe Of You

Note - thought we could all use a bit of cheering up after Tuesday so here is a second part to this fic 💕 I hope you all like it and feedback would be much appreciated 😘

Pairing - Mason Mount x Reader

Word count - 2.6k

Warnings - fluff

‘Mason I swear to god if you look down there one more time I’ll rip your nuts off’ you yelled, halfway through another painful contraction and even though you knew what you said was a bit over the top, you were in too much pain to care.

You watched Masons face pale immediately, quickly shuffling back up to stand beside you before taking your free hand for you to squeeze whilst the other brushed the loose hair that had fallen onto your sweaty forehead.

‘Sorry baby’ he whispered, placing a gentle kiss to the end of your nose in attempts to soothe you but nothing would work at this point.

You’d been uncomfortable all morning but you told Mason it was nothing, probably just the baby moving about or your body getting ready to give birth but Mason wasn’t having any of it and dropped Ollie over to Lewis so he could get you checked and ease both your minds.

By the time the pair of you were halfway to the hospital, your waters had broken all over his front seat and when you had made it to the hospital a mere 20 minutes later to get checked over you were fully dilated and passed the point of being able to have an epidural like you’d had with Ollie. This meant you were forced to do things the old fashioned way and had to make do with gas and air but the pain was excruciating.

No matter how many times you breathed it in, the pain remained the same and you couldn’t wait to finally have your baby in your arms and for this all to be over. You didn’t even know how you’d got to this point as you weren’t due for another week and the whole day seemed to of passed you by in a flash.

Mason was trying his best, getting you everything you needed and generally just being the most supportive man you could ask for but for some reason he kept trying to take a peek at down there. You knew he must of been curious but you also didn’t want him seeing whatever the situation was and never wanting to go near you or sleep with you again.

‘You’re doing so well sweetie, a few more pushes and bubba will be out okay?’ Your midwife told you as another contraction came to an end and you felt Mason start to press kisses along your knuckles.

‘What do you need, baby?’ Mason asked and you looked up to so him staring back at you with wild eyes but you knew underneath it all he was petrified and even though a small human was about to come out of you, you wanted to let him know everything was okay.

‘A kiss for good luck?’ You asked with a laugh, slightly out of breath and his whole face softened and he lent down to give you the softest kiss he’d ever had but it was enough for you.

‘I’m in awe of you, you know that right? You’re so close baby and I’m so proud of you’ he whispered against your lips and you felt fresh tears roll from your eyes, this time out of joy rather than pain. ‘I’m here for whatever you need. Break my fingers if you have to I don’t mind’ he told you and you were about to reply but you felt a another contraction coming causing you to let out a big breath and groan in pain

‘Big push now, y/n. Baby’s head is almost here so I really need you to go for it’ you midwife said, and as soon as you felt ready you pushed as hard as you could until you couldn’t anymore. ‘Well done, baby’s heads out now so just one more and we’re done okay’

‘I can’t’ you whimpered, turning your head to Mason as you felt the sobs wrack through you. ‘I’m so tired Mase I can’t do it’

‘If I could do it for you, you know I would’ he told you, kissing your damp forehead as he scratched over your scalp. ‘You’re so so close, just once more and they’ll be here yeah? I know you can do it y/n’

His faith in you seemed to be all you needed to get yourself over the finish line, practically screaming the place down as your baby was finally born. The sound of its cries ringing out just as loud as yours as they were finally placed into your arms.

‘Congratulations, you’ve got a little girl’ you midwife told you, and you peered down into the two bright eyes that were staring back up at you. You could see she was perfect even through your tears and you couldn’t help but place a kiss on her forehead even though she was covered in goodness knows what. ‘Let’s get her weighed and checked over while we sort you out mum. Dad, would you like to cut the cord?’

‘Please’ he smiled enthusiastically before following what the midwife was telling him to do and soon after a nurse was gently lifting her out of your arms. You didn’t want to let go but you knew you both needed seeing too and you watched Mason follow like a lost puppy as he watched your daughter get weighed and checked, constantly wiping his eyes as he couldn’t hold his emotions in before he made his way back over to you.

‘She’s perfect’ he whispered cupping your jaw kissing you heavily. ‘Thank you, I love you so so much you have no idea’ he laughed, kissing you again before you were bought out of your bubble.

‘Dad? Are we up for a little skin to skin?’ One of the nurses asked and Mason was quick to whip his top off and take up the seat next to your bed. You watched the way all the nurses eyed his body up and you couldn’t blame them at all. He was flawless but you couldn’t tear your eyes away from his face as you watched him hold your tiny baby to his chest, his eyes filling with tears that flowed freely down his cheeks as he smiled down at the perfect little bundle.

‘Hey baby, it’s so lovely meet you’ he whispered, letting her hold his finger and you looked on with a huge smile on your face as the nurses cleared you up and put you back together again. ‘You’re so beautiful’ you heard his whispering, his thumb stroking her cheek gently as he took her in. ‘You are. You’ve got the most beautiful Mummy in the world and you’re gonna be the most beautiful baby’ he laughed and his glossy eyes were soon to peer up at you, full of so much love as his smile mirrored your own. ‘Look what you did’ he whispered

‘Look what we did, Mase’ you laughed reaching over to run your fingers through his hair as he sat and bonded with his daughter for the first time. He must of know you felt a little left out and as soon as the nurses were finished with you, he stood up not long after to bring her over, placing her back in your arms as you both wrapped a blanket around her before he got dressed again. ‘Looks like we’ve got another carbon copy of you’ you laughed, looking down at her sweet face that had started to settle a bit. ‘Damn you and your insanely strong genes’

‘I can totally see you’ he laughed, sitting on the bed next to you in the space you’d made for him. His arm coming around you and your head finding it’s place in his neck as you looked down at your perfect little bundle.

‘Would you like a picture of the three of you?’ One of the nurses asked and Mason was quick to pass her his phone so she could snap a few pictures of the three of you. ‘Do you have a name for her yet?’

‘We’re not really sure’ you told her, looking up to Mason with a smile. ‘We asked to not know the gender until she was born and we have a few names picked out but we wanted to see her first’ you told the nurse before your baby started to cry. You felt Mason stiffen next to you, clearly a bit concerned but when you repositioned her to feed her with a little help from the nurse he relaxed instantly, tilting your face up to his when the pair of you were comfortable.

‘I love you. So so much’ he whispered, pulling you in for a kiss that sent a shiver down your spine. All the pain of the last few hours now forgotten. ‘You’re so amazing’

‘I love you too’ you whispered against his lips, and you felt him smile before kissing you again. ‘I’m sorry if I squeezed your hand too tight’ you told him and he laughed before flexing his fingers to show you they were fine.

‘Don’t be silly, it was more than worth it. I’d do it 100 times over for this’

‘I’m sorry I said I’d rip your nuts off too’ you laughed and he chuckled along with you before kissing your forehead.

‘It’s fine. Although we need to keep these, they’re gonna be handy in a few years time when we make the next one’ he teased.

‘Yeah well I’m having way more drugs next time’

‘She’s worth it though right?’ He laughed, kissing her head lightly as she let out a tiny yawn.

‘More than worth it’ you whispered, your eyes filling up as it started to sink in that your baby was finally here and in your arms.

‘I’ll go pick up Ollie soon, need to get the car cleaned on the way too’ he smiled and you felt your face flush at the memory of your waters breaking all over his front seat and a small nervous laugh left your lips. ‘You’re lucky I love you’ he winked before kissing your daughters head again. ‘I don’t wanna leave you though, five more minutes’ he fake cried, holding you a little bit tighter as he stroked your hair softly as you both watched her fall asleep.

Mason left soon after you’d popped her into her crib so you could have a little nap yourself and call your family to let them know and they promised to visit as soon as you were home in order to give you some time to get settled. You managed to get in a half hour nap before you got hungry and it wasn’t long after that you heard Masons quiet voice as he came in with Ollie on his hip.

‘We need to be quiet yeah? Mummy might be asleep’ you just about heard him say and you smiled as your boys came into view, a pink teddy stuffed under Ollie’s arm whilst he held a pretty bunch of pink flowers in-between his chubby little hands and your eyes watered at the sight of them.

Ollie began wriggling around in Masons arms until he was popped down on the bed next to you where Mason reminded him to be gentle and he gave Mason a very serious nod before handing over the flowers to you.

‘For me? Thank you, baby. Come here and give me a kiss’ you smiled, holding his face as you kissed over his cheeks and he giggled adorably before hiding his face in your neck. ‘What’s this?’ You asked, stroking the head of the teddy that he was gripping onto for dear life and he looked up at you shyly.

‘For the baby’ he whispered, showing you the fluffy pink bear with a white heart on its tummy and your heart gave a squeeze at how nervous he seemed to meet his little sister.

‘Shall we give it to her?’ you asked just as Mason wheeled the little crib over to your bedside. You watched his eyes widen as he caught sight of her before looking back at you with a huge smile. You popped the little teddy in the crib just above her head before turning back to him with a hug smile to try and settle his nerves. ‘Would you like to say hello?’ You asked and he nodded his head furiously before you asked Mason to pass you her so he could get close to her. You watched as he reached out gently to touch her face before pressing a gentle kiss to her cheek. Your heart burst at the sight and your eyes filled with tears as you watched them interact for the first time as she opened her eyes up to have a little look around and say hello to her big brother. ‘When we’re home and I’m out of this tiny bed you can give her a proper cuddle yeah? Would you like that?’

‘Yes’ he giggled resting his head on your arm just as Mason placed himself behind the three of you.

‘Her face has changed so much since I’ve gone’ he told you, kissing your head as he gazed down at her.

‘Yeah, she looks even more like you’ you laughed , looking up at him as he winked at you before a curious look took over his face.

‘We should really give her a name, we can’t call her the baby forever’

‘What do you think Ollie? What name do you like?’ You asked him and you could tell he was really thinking about it as he watched her face, shutting her eyes so she could go back to sleep.

‘Matilda’ he smiled, clearly influenced but his new favourite film that he’d been watching on repeat lately and you looked up to Mason with a smile.

‘I actually quite like that, we can call her Tilly for short’ you smiled and he smiled back at you in agreement.

‘Matilda Bridget Mount’

‘Mason, I’m not naming our daughter after Stamford Bridge’

‘First of all it’s not for Stamford Bridge, Bridget is our mascot thank you very much and she’s a lovely lion. And secondly, it means strength and power and I like it. Please just let me have this one thing. I promise you can name the next one’ he laughed and you looked down at her with a smile, secretly liking the name they’d picked out.

‘Hello Matilda Bridget Mount. We’re so happy you’re here’ you whispered stroking her cheek gently as she let out another adorable little yawn.

‘The MM legacy lives on’ Mason cheered and laughed with him before motioning for Mason to take her so you could have a much needed cuddle with your first born. You watched on as Mason took her over to the window to show her the outside, promising her all the things they’d eventually do together once she was old enough and telling her about all the people who were excited to meet her. You could see her little eyes follow him as he moved and you were so overcome with joy for your new new addition you didn’t realise you were crying until Ollie began wiping your cheeks with his little fingers before placing a small kiss on your nose just like you always did for him when he was upset.

‘Love you, munchkin’ you whispered, holding him close just as Mason turned round to join you again.

‘What about me’ he pouted, placing Tilly in your arms again and sitting Ollie in his lap.

‘I love you too I guess’ you huffed before winking at him and leaving a kiss on his cheek. ‘And I love you princess, so so much’ you whispered, feeling Ollie and Mason lean into you as your shared your first of many proper family cuddles.

[tin-wufborf]

Tin's Favorite Sterek Fics (Part 6)

Hello, hello, hello, and welcome to the sixth installment of this little series of mine! Thank you all again for likes and shares on the previous parts. You all continue to blow me away with your support for this project of mine. Once again, smooches and squeezy-hugs to you all! But only if you want them.

As a quick heads up, we're entering into the "December 2012" era of fics, so you might start seeing a bit of a Christmas theme going on for a for a little bit. Generally, I don't prefer Christmas fics myself, but I'm a sucker for kid and pack fics (you may have already been able to tell), and those tropes tend to work well in a Christmas setting. Consider yourselves warned!

Okay, that's all from me for now. Ta-ta!

List and link to previous/next part(s) below the cut.

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DISCLAIMER: This is me warning you all that some of the fics I've included in this list may cover explicit, dark, and/or "taboo" subject matters. I cannot express enough how little I care what anyone thinks about any of that; all I want is for you to use caution when reading anything I've listed here and to please review and heed whatever tags the authors have provided in order to keep yourselves safe. Your experience from this point on is your own responsibility, not mine and not the authors'.

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Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13 | Part 14 | Part 15 | Part 16 | Part 17

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Nothing Satisfies Me But Your Soul by fadedhues (NR | 1/1 | 1,259)

“My name is Death,” he sings softly, and it’s fucking pretty, like he’s singing a lullaby to the winter sky, “and the end is here.”

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must be a devil between us by hoars (NR | 1/1 | 2,081)

"What? Why would-- Derek, why would your daemon encourage mine to touch you?" Stiles fakes calm well, but his heart gives him away.

"Because Luminera is a deviant." He shrugs. He accepted Luminera's reckless behavior years ago.

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souls of mischief by hoars (M | 2/2 | 2,695)

Stiles’ first memory of his mom is green.

Her green eyes, her green dresses, her green scarves, her green blouses and her green barrettes.

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with the darkness fed by Rena (NR | 1/1 | 2,835)

It takes him several tries to dial the right number; his hands are slippery with blood (warm and sticky and bright red) and his entire body is shaking with the aftermath of puking his guts out, his breath is burning in his lungs and the phone keeps eluding his grasp.

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What Could Have Been by thingcalledlove (G | 1/1 | 2,971)

The camera zooms in on the face of a very beautiful woman who looks vaguely familiar.

“Who’s the babe?” Stiles jokes, turning to look over at Derek.

“My mom,” Derek replies with a glare.

“Oh, shit, dude, I’m sor—” Stiles breaks off his apology as his eyes drift back towards the screen. Beside Mrs. Hale is another familiar face. One he hasn’t seen in a long time. His mother.

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I Don't Want To Be Saved by Lapin (M | 1/1 | 3,132)

And everyone, everyone has their own ideas about this relationship, they all say the same things, they all do. "He's not good for you," "It's Derek," "This is the fourth night in a row," "What kind of asshole dates a high schooler?" "I'm not okay with this."

But Stiles pulls the red hood up, wanders from the path, and he's picking flowers, and he's breathing, "My, what big teeth you have," and Derek bares his fangs, and yeah. Fuck them.

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Will Wonders Never Cease by thecheekydragon (T | 1/1 | 3,632)

Sheriff Stilinski wonders how Derek Hale fits into his working theory of a gigantic, two-ton pissed off moose shot-putting his son’s jeep.

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Practically Perfect by betp (NR | 1/1 | 3,688)

WE NEED A NANNY PROBALLY. Reqirments: - eyes light up - wants to go places - can travel between dimentions - likes cheesebergers - a wear wolf - lisens to good music - SUPER STRONG - favorit color is pink - has friends who can fly - will merry our Dad

There is a stick figure drawing of a werewolf with red eyes and bared teeth, marrying Stiles on a cloud.

Or, "The one that has next to nothing to do with the kids." This is a straight-up unapologetic Mary Poppins AU.

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Laura is Badass by hoars (NR | 1/1 | 5,079)

Laura's not expecting two teenage boys to burst into the bakery, brandishing lacrosse sticks yelling about “Kidnap!” and “Pedobears!” and “Sex slaves are illegal!”

She’s flabbergasted.

“Cupcake?” Derek offers.

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When You Stop Believing in Santa You Get Underwear by owlpostagain (T | 1/1 | 7,817)

There are some salvageable things though. A virtually untouched heavy slate sign that says, engraved in an ornate script that confirms at least one person in the Hale family had a sense of humor (Stiles has a horrible suspicion it might have been Peter), When You Stop Believing in Santa You Get Underwear.

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Beltane by DevilDoll (E | 1/1 | 8,254)

"Watching Stiles heal someone has always been a little uncomfortable for Derek, like he's seeing something intimate and private that shouldn't have an audience. That's nothing compared to how it feels." This is an AU in which Stiles has magical healing powers.

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Your Words Are Robbery by dedougal (E | 1/1 | 12,127)

When Stiles is dragged back to Beacon Hills, he has to face everything he left behind.

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cool story, bro by drunktuesdays (E | 1/1 | 13,087)

Based on a truly ridiculous conversation with Kalpurna about a hypothetical Stilinski Twins situation that ended up sounding something like:

“FUUUUUUCK, is it a sweet valley high situation where Stiles is very aware that his twin is way more attractive and confident than he is, EVEN THOUGH THEY'RE IDENTICAL, and he always ends up with the hotter significant others and more friends and Stiles guesses that's why he's attracted to the pack at first, because it's something that's just his, not his twin's too. But of course, Stiles's twin gets bit and now he's part of Derek's pack, and Derek doesn't snap at him like he snaps at Stiles, never slams him into things, fucking FIGURES, STILES'S TWIN GETS EVERYTHIIIIIIIING.”

Kalpurna/good ideas OTP.

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Stay. by paradis (E | 1/1 | 15,537)

He leaves because the press of Derek’s lips and the sting of his teeth against Stiles’ neck are still burning his skin, and he can’t stop touching them, but then he remembers Derek telling him he’s not pack, he never was, and that he doesn’t belong here.

He leaves because Lydia asks him too, but he doesn’t go back to Beacon Hills because no one asked him to come back.

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What To Expect When You're Expecting (A Litter of Sourwolf Puppies) by Brego_Mellon_Nin (E | 1/1 | 17,422)

The Sheriff sighs and plops down in a chair opposite his son.

“Stiles, I’m going crazy here. We need to get you to a doctor. You sleep like you’re trying to get into the Guinness Book of World Records, and your eating habits are bizarre! You vomit around the clock and for some reason only the tea your mother used when she was pregnant will get your stomach to settle down for any length of time. Is there something you aren’t telling me? Can werewolves get guys pregnant? I’ve noticed how you look at that Hale kid-”

Stiles meeps and flails, sloshing tea down his front. Luckily it’s not scalding anymore, but still hot, so he jumps up and wrenches his shirt off.

“God, dad, no! Guys can’t get pregnant, that’s ridiculous, it’s like...”

“Like werewolves being real?” his dad questions, deadpan.

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Home by cofeeinallcaps (E | 1/1 | 18,464)

Derek has bought a beautiful house. Stiles can't stay away. (In which everyone hangs out at Derek's place all the time and Stiles tries but fails not to fall for a certain socially inept alpha.)

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Assistant to the Consulting Detectives by idyll (T | 9/9 | 18,674)

Stiles is going to NYU and ends up working for Sherlock and Joan.

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Metamorphsis by happyevraftr (E | 1/1 | 20,755)

Life isn’t easy for Stiles Stilinski. This is a truth he’d come to accept a long time ago, so it’s no surprise when an enemy pack shows up in town with a mysterious Alpha that’s hell bent on revenge. Things escalate quickly when Erica goes missing and Isaac is attacked by the new pack. As if that isn’t enough to handle, Stiles own body begins to betray him and he must decide whether to die as a human, or live as a werewolf.

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The Birthday Fic by seussian (E | 1/1 | 21,066)

It's Derek's 30th birthday, and Erica and Boyd have been kidnapped. Again.

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Tutor!Verse series by betp (10 works | NR-M | 41,579)

They meet when Derek is seventeen and hates history almost as much as he hates his ex, Kate, and Stiles is sixteen and taking junior-level history classes. Then they fall in love and do dates on each other and I didn't mean for any of this to happen. By which I mean Sterek fic!

1. Not Another Sterek Romance (It Is Absolutely Another Sterek Romance) (T | 1/1 | 2,405) In which Derek is the worst at history and Stiles wears glasses. 2. Boys, Interrupted (NR | 1/1 | 1,329) "I am the result of your academic ennui," Stiles summarises. 3. Jeepin' (M | 1/1 | 1,368) Stiles warns Derek four days in advance, resulting in Derek unable to concentrate in any of his classes that Friday, because all he can think about is his impending gay deflowering, which--jesus fucking christ. 4. Peer Pressure (T | 1/1 | 1,615) "Can't even answer a simple question, he's too good for that. I hope he knows what we do to kids who are too good to talk to us." 5. Golden (NR | 1/1 | 947) "It's like a recipe for a summer romance movie from the 80s." 6. Catch Me a Catch (NR | 1/1 | 1,828) In which Allison will never understand Stiles' sense of humour, Scott will never understand what Stiles sees in Derek, and Derek wonders what he would spend his free time doing if he'd never met Stiles. (The answer is CoD and literally nothing else.) 7. Education (NR | 1/1 | 2,990) "I'll try anything once." He pauses. "With you. Only with you."

In which Stiles and Derek have been dating for three years, and Derek decides to try something new. 8. Viridian (NR | 1/1 | 5,967) "Dude, forget Stiles." 9. Biological Imperative (NR | 1/1 | 2,206) "I want to have children with you someday," Derek interjects firmly. "Not that I know why I seem to think that would be a good idea." Tin here. Just wanted to pop in and say that this part (part 9) is the conclusion to this series as the next part is a WIP reboot of the series.

10. i brought my pencil (NR | 3/? | 20,924) Your typical, classic nerd/jock au, but with a shittier attitude. (A reboot of this series. Sorry guys.)

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[jhuzen]

Will there be a part 2 of the "Attention" fic?

infidelity [gn/m.reader]

the answer to that is a solid yes AND a big apology for taking a hundred years to post this. this ask has been in my inbox for freaking months. and it’s mostly because i have been remaking this fic until i got the most satisfying fic LMAO. i’m sorry for taking so long 😭 i hope this is compensation enough. btw this part 2 to this! but honestly, you don’t have to read it lmao.

𖦹 crack taken seriously, hsr mention but this is mostly genshin, this is just a fic of me making fun of cheaters aka you, highly based on that one tweet of the “welcome home, cheater” one, pushing my grand overseer reader agenda like in my early fics teehee <3, sagau, sahsr au

“I should probably go back…”

Jing Yuan begged to differ. The general himself had his reservations about your sudden eagerness to depart. After all, you were a good company — one that amused him to the core and even kept him awake for the better part of the day. You are an interesting being to him after all — much after learning from the exuberant girl from the famed Astral Express suddenly emphasizing your importance when they left you under his supervision.

You, in much simpler words, are adorable in the Luofo general’s eyes. With eagerness and curiosity melding in those gaze of yours that could leave anyone transfixed — wanting and desperate.

You truly live up to the title as the grand overseer across worlds. You were the sole beholder of their sentience, despite the fact that right now, you’re barely aware of your status and your circumstance, it was more than enough for anyone go cherish your presence. How could they not? It was a blessing to see you descend from where you were, behind the great barrier that they all could only stare at when they looked to you for guidance.

Alas, that mattered little, not when you were beside the amused general and his coy smile, fingers raking through your hair; reminiscent of the pattern when he would do the same thing to Mimi when you visited his abode to meet the furry beauty that was his pet.

Quite frankly, you weren’t all too sure if this was something you were used to, being treated like an animal companion, with even the way Jing Yuan’s hand would suddenly roam behind your very human ears, scratching behind out of habit.

The only thing missing was him giving your food to you in a bowl, actually, and you’d be no different than Mimi at that point. Wait. No. You were sure Jing Yuan’s lion also ate out of a golden encrusted plate when you saw his hired caretakers come and feed Mimi.

“Bark for me, won’t you?” The general teased with a purr and it was more than enough for you to pull the plug at your willing compliance.

You removed his hand from your head and only shot him a subtle glare, “That’s a request I can’t honor even if my life depended on it.” You sighed, “I should get going now though, General… I made a promise to help our conductor in sweeping the floors. Apparently Caelus tracked some dirt inside when he decided to lug some trash.”

“Must you really? You’re the grand overseer, no? I believe such a title deserves a limitless freedom in doing whatever it is that they wish,” he coaxed in a suave tone, quick to win anyone over. And honestly, that sounds nice. But you’ve never seen Pom-Pom look so stressed when you saw an unwilling March and Dan Heng drag some trash either wrapped in gold bags or regular black ones inside the express when they came back from Belobog.

You somehow regretted leaving first — but even you had urgent matters to attend to at that moment.

“Ah—!” The lax Jing Yuan jolted at your sudden outburst.

“…Anything troubling you, Grand Overseer?”

“T-Teyvat! I completely forgot…!” Your eyes were blown wide as the panic settled within you. You had promised Nahida you would make it to the Interdarshan championship. She was so excited when she communed with you just days ago, completely elated that even your beloved Wanderer would participate as a representative in a Darshan.

Albeit confused by your sudden squawking, Jing Yuan understood and only watched you pace around while you lamented what sounds to be a rehearsed apology that you will no doubt tell to someone you hold precious.

“How envious, to receive an apology from you even sounds like a great honor.” Jing Yuan teased with a chuckle. “Well then, off you go now. Don’t be away for too long. I rather enjoy our time together.”

“O-Oh, yes, of course… I truly apologize for cutting our time together short. Do give my regards to Fu Xuan and Yanqing if they drop by. I have to go and talk to the crew and also bid my goodbye for now.” You bowed before turning away, briskly walking your way towards the door outside of the general’s office, only to bump into Welt and March.

“Oh! There you are! Ya ready to go shopping?” March held an exuberant energy as she asked, clasping your hand in hers tightly with an excited gleam flashing through her eyes.

Welt, however, was far more observant than March, “Judging from that look in your eyes… you have some affairs you’ve forgotten to tend to, Your Benevolence. Would I be correct in my judgment?”

“It’d be a miracle for you to be wrong at this point,” you laughed amidst your panic. “But yes, unfortunately. March, I hope you don’t mind a little bit of postponement… I have somewhere to be urgently.”

March’s bottom lip stuck out into pleading pout, “But you promised!”

“March, let’s not force them. It is as they say — an urgent affair.” Welt only looked at you with a small nod and an encouraging smile, “Don’t be too worried. I’ll let Himeko and Dan Heng know of your absence. Just be safe.”

“I will definitely come back and visit.” Your smile and reassurance was enough to quell March’s disappointment and Welt’s initial concern. “Please tell Caelus not to track more dirt inside. It’ll only serve to frustrate Pom-Pom further.”

“It’s a useless attempt, but for you, I’ll try,” March winked as she waved to you with Welt.

With a nod to the two of them, you were off to Teyvat — lucky that you have little need for the Star Rail in the first place to travel. Otherwise, it would most certainly take you the entire conceivable time just before you could even come back to one of the many worlds that you oversaw and to a fault, even took care of from afar.

You stepped into the familiar grassy fields of Sumeru’s rainforest, looking up to see that the city isn’t too far off. There was a gentle breeze that blew by, almost like a kiss from a certain archon, but you paid little heed to it. You normally always took your time to appreciate the sights in Teyvat, finding its vast lands and many biomes incredibly fantastical in sight. But even that couldn’t keep you from the fact that you’ve broken several promises that you willingly made to some residents here.

You can only imagine the disappointment in everyone’s faces once you’ve admitted to the fact that… other people may have swept your attention away in the first place — hence your sudden absence.

You owed your first apology to Nahida. She is after all, one of your far more favored archons around, treating her like your own, definitely something that would make Rukkhadevata proud among every other archon out there. And then there’s also a matter of apologizing to your dear Aether, you made another promise to him that you would spend your time with him in Sumeru’s far end by the Realm of Farakhkert to meet the infamous Sorush and the majestic race of the Pari (you once made a claim that Aranara’s are superior, and your endeared traveler was reluctant in protesting to your words it seems).

Now that you thought about it — you were sure you made quite a lot of promises to the residents of Teyvat. A lot of commitments were hammered into your special sanctuary that Aether had built for and with you inside his teapot.

Commitments that you’ve forgotten in favor of space travels with a couple of trailblazers.

Onlookers turned to your direction, completely flabbergasted at your casual appearance. What were you doing in Sumeru city (not that they were ungrateful for your gracious presence) — but it was as if you were solely taking a stroll on your own. Where are your entourage? Was the Acting Grand Sage even informed of your arrival? What about the archons that always accompanied you? Where is Buer?

Best of all, why does your face contort into an expression of what seems to be utter guilt?

You hiked your way to the Sanctuary of Surasthana, refusing any help offered to you by the guards that were courteous enough. You were prepared to face Nahida’s crestfallen look — prepared to start indulging her wishes to make up for the tomfoolery you engaged in. The corners of your mouth trembled as it itched to finally spill out the plethora of apologies that you’ve prepared.

“Oh. So you exist after all.”

Only for your well-rehearsed (by the last minute) apologies to fall apart when the Wanderer’s voice rang from above. You looked up to see him perched on one of the ledges just above the door of Nahida’s residence. He was stationed like a watchful hawk — and he was, constantly on the prowl for anyone suspicious daring to come up to the sanctuary.

Suddenly, a memory of you promising him to go fishing by the coasts of Sumeru had you wincing. And with the way the puppet’s mouth turned up in a smug smirk showed that he was aware of an engagement you swore you’d do with him.

“Ah… I hear you go by Hat guy now?” You tilted your head, giving him a reluctant smile.

“Spare me the meaningless prying. Where have you been?” His eyes narrowed, suspicious and a tad bitter at your absence and incompetence in attending a tiny little leisure that you yourself insisted he join you on. Who the hell even creates plans first and suddenly flakes out? The Wanderer has never felt more betrayed, quite frankly.

You suddenly looked like a guilty spouse that came from a messy affair, with the way you shifted your footing and how you averted your gaze quick. The Wanderer was intolerant of such a behavior however when he finally came down from his little high up spot to face you with no escape. He will summon a void and trap you in it halfway if you so much as make an attempt to escape.

“I’ve been… away…”

“Were you now?” His scrutinizing gaze only served to intimidate you further when he came up close, his nimble fingers tracing against your clothing. “Whose is this?”

And before you, he held a familiar long strand of white hair — possibly acquired when the general of Luofo decided to frolic around with you, coaxing (or coercing, more like) you to give him a much deserved head massage for his hard work (though in truth, he barely did anything that day).

“…A cat.” Technically not a lie. Jing Yuan does exhibit certain behaviors that you can classify as a behavior that a feline has.

“Is it now?” His voice went an octave higher — clearly mocking you if his churlish grin wasn’t enough of a sign about his suspicions of you and your… agendas prior to your unprompted visit in Teyvat.

A terse silence engulfed you and your Wanderer before he flicked away the hair and dragged you inside Nahida’s sanctuary.

“She was disappointed that you were absent the entire Interdarshan event thing. Where in the abyss were you?” The puppet hissed, his grip on your wrist tightening. Somehow you found it far more comforting compared to the times where people would treat you like some fragile object that could break at any second.

What’s not comforting however, were his words. You couldn’t bear the thought of letting Nahida down, and now you’re faced with that very thought becoming a reality that you now have to get through just for the sake of your sanity.

You smiled a little despite seeing the Dendro Archon’s back turned while she minded her own business. There was always something comforting when wasting your hours away inside the sanctuary. Just having to teach Nahida from your old world knowledge about people, and to an extent even teaching the Wanderer with your wisdom that rarely pops out (according to him, with full intent to insult you). It’s not as daring as the time Venti decided to fling you up and catch you or Ei’s insistence on you eating your tenth dango during your walks.

For now however, you had one goal in mind — and that is to make amends with your favored archon and puppet.

Teyvat altogether created an unspoken rule to never ever doubt you — the Grand Overseer. You have a position that transcends even farther than the Primordial One, your eyes that gaze on many universes and worlds. You are the one that took care of the blooming life in each planet that teemed with it, thriving under your guidance.

There was a collective decision among all gods and mortals alike to never doubt your endeavors, much less your love for them. You care a lot about them, and based solely on your constant descent towards their world, it seems as though above all other worlds, you favored them. They were the proof of your benevolence, granting the residents your presence while you walked among them.

Right. That was the case that everyone agreed upon.

However, there was an underlying layer of unease. Heaven forbid may it be doubt; they could never! But perhaps… a tiny bit of uncertainty in the layer of cautiousness as the residents watched you with adoration.

It first started with the wrong names.

When Albedo, Sucrose, and Timaeus wholeheartedly welcomed your help when you visited Dragonspine with Klee. Jean was far too busy with her work and while she wished to, could not have time to bask in your presence after the announcement of your sudden arrival. In turn, you only assured her and relieved her of her added duty in watching over Klee.

Klee was the one to visit big brother Albedo, to surprise him that you were finally back. And you complied. Dragonspine is an extension of Mondstadt, and you had plans to check up on every single resident of the nation.

Suffice to say, you were quickly hooked up in a chair, pulse detectors attached to your temples while you watched Klee doodle away on the floor. For a respected overseer, you certainly were a people pleaser, letting Albedo scan you out of his own volition (Sucrose was fussing the entire time, she didn’t want you to be hurt in the process, after all!).

“Look Grand Overseer! This is you and me and Dodoco!” Your vision was quickly filled with a flurry of bright colors on paper, one that was filled with an abundant amount of red and the other with the colors of your clothing.

“Ah! So it is! Good job, Hook!”

Everyone in silence soon tore themselves away from their work, looking at you with evident confusion.

Klee blinked, tilting her head as she looked just as lost and surprised as the other three researchers in the mountain, “Hook? That’s not how you say Klee…”

Your heart hammered against your ribcage and tried to save it with a cough, “D-Did I now? Ah, my bad… I meant to say was that you… did a great job! It immediately hooked me in!” It was a half-baked excuse — hell, call it a raw excuse even and everyone aside from Klee caught on as the explosive child beamed with pride, just happy that you loved her heartfelt creation.

Albedo eyed you in suspicion before returning to his work.

Then there was your misplaced reminiscence.

In your defense however, Snezhnaya does feel like Belobog. Sometimes… most definitely not because of the fact that both places are constantly subjected in a thick layer of snow.

The Tsaritsa was all but cruel to you. She loved you like any other archon out there and always basked in your presence — even keeping you for herself a week or two longer, leaving the next nation in your rotation of visitation completely restless at your tardiness. However in her gentle kindness was a terrifying beast that laid dormant.

Only then did you catch a glimpse of it on the morning that you and her spent on your appointed room in the palace, both you and the Cryo Archon siting on the balcony while you sipped on a hot beverage, enjoying the mountainous coated in freshly fallen snow.

You sat your cup down and blew on your hands. The Tsaritsa laughed at your actions, pleased that you can truly feel the love she embodied through the cold winds of her icy nation.

“Cold enough for you, Grand Overseer?” She jested with a light tone.

“…Yep…” your teeth lightly chattered. “…T-This place is a lot c-colder than Belobog, I’ll tell you that… B-But not more than Jarilo-VI as a whole…”

All of a sudden, you could feel the creeping coldness from beside you and looked to where the archon sat, her striking eyes looking at you with curiosity… with a smidge of coldness behind them.

“Pardon? Not colder than where?”

Her tone was pressed despite her sweet adoring smile. She took pride in her sovereign kingdom of cryo. It was all for you, to feel the comforting cold after you spent your last stay with Murata in Natlan. This was her giving you love, and suddenly, it wasn’t enough?

The better part of your mind decided to feign ignorance. And you lived to see another day.

And then the sudden secrecy.

By all means, of all people, Zhongli indulged in your stories the most. Whenever you visited Liyue, you were almost always found beside him if Ningguang wasn’t asking for your presence or if you weren’t getting coerced into another drinking competition with Beidou and her crew. And in this case, you were preoccupied with a little something while you accompanied Zhongli in his usual spot.

He listened earnestly to the storyteller while you busied yourself writing a little something on a parchment you had acquired from the Wangsheng parlor when you fetched Zhongli for his break.

And ever so slightly, he’d find himself glancing at your hunched over form, while you stewed in your little activity. He didn’t particularly mind the lack of conversation from you. Having you beside him was more than enough, actually. But it wouldn’t hurt for you to have him be just as engaged in your little agenda, would it?

The former archon peered at your work, only to be faced with scripts that were oddly reminiscent of Liyue’s characters. Albeit there were significant changes that made the language still all too different from his nation.

“…Might you be translating ancient texts, Grand Overseer?” He inquired and was met by a suspicious jolt from you.

It was a text Dan Heng gave you before to practice the language used in the Xianzhou fleet. Only now did you have time to do his little practices upon your descent. You had plans to check up on everyone as soon as you were done in Teyvat, and perhaps impressing Yanqing with your language prowess was a good party trick (and eventually not get bullied into eating something spicy because of your ignorance).

“Ah! N-No—! I— yes. No.”

Zhongli tilted his head and you were quick to recall your flubbed answer, shoving away the parchment into your little pocket. There was a frantic look in your eyes and Zhongli was concerned, naturally.

You used to be so willing in divulging everything to him in exchange for his stories, with the both of you managing to talk from dusk to dawn without fail with him needing little to no sleep and the time dilation that your body couldn’t seem to adjust to. You weren’t afraid to share what you were preoccupied with, and even often let him experience new things from your own world.

So why are you keeping secrets now?

But perhaps, the breaking point was your standoffish nature.

Aether has always cherished his raw connection with you and was proud to wear his closeness to your divinity, not because of infamy, but because of how incredibly special you treat him. While, certainly, you have made the people of Teyvat special on your visits, but what sets him apart from the rest is your adamant expression of affection towards him. For some reason, he was favored alone, not as a part of a collective unlike Venti and his people, or Zhongli and his. He alone was yours to indulge, even more behind closed doors in his teapot realm.

However… something was off after your abrupt visit.

Something had changed when you came home.

You were far more distracted, occupied with that tiny device you always held in your hand. Suddenly, Paimon wasn’t the loudest one in the teapot mansion with the incessant beeping that your phone made. It never did that before, it was always tucked away somewhere, sometimes even letting him place it in his inventory if there was little time to go back into the teapot.

He had always deemed your mode of communication useless. Especially on your travels. It was always so silent, like a useless artifact that you keep on you.

But suddenly it was teeming with life, buzzing endlessly that could drive any man with weak resistance into the threshold of insanity. You’d often pick it up and grant the little device a heavenly smile and proceed to be on it for hours upon hours.

It was a heartbreaking time for him.

It was heartbreaking whenever he would peer at your device, only for you to keep him in the dark as you made some lame excuse.

It was heartbreaking whenever he could no longer recognize your words when you talked about your own anecdotes, throwing name after name at him while he listened intently.

And oh was it heartbreaking when you called him by the name of someone else.

“[Name], have you seen my earring?” He took pride in his informality with you showing your comfortability and familiarity with the renowned traveler.

“Over on the table, Cae— ther… Caether… Aether.”

Not so much with that tiny slip.

Yes. Perhaps that was it. And all the preceding reasons.

Perhaps it was why you sat like a condemned criminal in the court of Focalors, as every archon looked at you with scrutiny and skepticism in their eyes. Only sweet Nahida looked at you in concern. Ah, your poor child. You’d rather her look away than experience the possible punishment you were about to receive.

“Grand Overseer, make no mistake, this is a trial born from the accumulated concerns of us all. This is a trial born… from our love.” The hydro archon’s voice bellowed through the courts. She normally wasn’t one to personally try the defendants, however you were a special circumstance.

You always were.

…Sure doesn’t feel like it…

“M-May I at least know what my charges are…?”

“Infidelity, Grand Overseer.” Ei answered for the collective. “I can only hope you are not found guilty.”

You grimaced. You’re quite glad that this was a private trial, with only the archons, retired or otherwise, gazing at you. Make no mistake however — this was an intimidating position to be in. You may be the Grand Overseer, but you’re quite sure the only thing keeping you alive is their thinly veiled fanaticism and adoration for you. Otherwise, you would have been incinerated long ago.

It might have been your luck. But it was something you would wholeheartedly thank as the moment Focalors slammed her gavel down, the horrifying screech of something you can only classify as a hideous ally pulled you out of your impending doom.

The alarm on your phone rang incessantly, a glaring reminder of your subpar and mundane reality, waking you up from a dream that you could barely remember.

You shot up, only realizing you fell asleep in front of your own computer. You looked up to see your game open, with your beloved traveler gazing down at you with a disappointed frown on his face.

You chalked it up to your awful sleep and rubbed your eyes, closing the game and migrating to the other, where your in-game phone was filled to the brim with messages.

Smothering a yawn in your hand, you can only shake your head.

“My games have been really weird lately. I should probably leave them alone for now. Maybe have fun with Elysia and the girls.” You muttered to yourself but not before powering your computer down.

Truly, your utter cluelessness is bound to drive everyone insane.

Fret not however, they will make it work. They will let you know of their sentience. They will make sure that you are aware of how much they admire you.

It’s only a matter of time until then.

[ewanmitchellcrumbs]

Perzys se Rūkla (Fire and Flowers) - Chapter Four

Pairing: Daemon Targaryen x original female character (Melessa Tyrell) Warnings: Smut, mentions of death, angst, mentions of infidelity. Word count: ~3.5k

Chapter summary: Shocking news means Daemon and Melessa must return to the capital. Series summary here.

Endless thanks and all the love to my absolute ride or die @em-writes-stuff-sometimes for cheerleading, beta'ing and just generally being the bestest fandom boo a gal could have. Squishes also to @ruby-dragon and @valeskafics for providing support when I was outlining this chapter.

Author's note: No gods, no masters, no tag lists. Only scabs community label fics. If you find yourself tempted to slap a label on this, please block me instead.

Header by the insanely talented @em-writes-stuff-sometimes

I love you. I love you. I love you.

It tumbles freely from Melessa’s lips over the first six months of their marriage. With every day that passes, it becomes easier for Daemon to hear. The first time he takes her to meet Caraxes, his large hand covers hers completely as she holds out trembling fingers to touch the great, red beast’s snout. She looks up at Daemon, a bright smile upon her face despite the palpable fear in her big, blue eyes, and utters those three little words to him. He squeezes her hand ever so gently, but does not say it back.

He takes her flying, and she screams bloody murder, turning backwards to bury her face in his chest at the turbulent ride that dragonback provides. He wraps his arms tighter around her waist and, eventually, she relaxes back against him. Daemon is certain she endures it more than she enjoys it. Her pulse is racing when he takes her arm to help her out of the saddle once they have landed. Yet, still, she murmurs a breathless declaration of love to him, which he rewards with a gentle kiss to her forehead.

When he senses she is missing Highgarden, he arranges to have a rose garden built upon the grounds of Dragonstone. Daemon knows nothing of flowers, is unsure if they will survive the climate on the island, and yet none of that seems to matter as she gazes up at him with that grin, soil dusted over her hands and cheeks from pruning the bushes, and tells him she loves him.

He is no longer stricken by panic at the ease with which she tells him this. He grows to expect it, coveting the warmth that spreads through his chest when she tucks her head beneath his chin and whispers it sleepily before drifting off each evening. He never returns the sentiment. Daemon is not one for words of affirmation, but he cannot deny that for the first time in a long time he feels genuine happiness.

Heat of another kind unfurls within him as Melessa lays beneath him, one leg placed haphazardly over his shoulder as he thrusts into her tight wet heat. Such pretty sounds she makes for him, her eyes glassy with tears as he splits her open. Daemon would usually have tired of a woman after this length of time together, but gods, her cunt. He cannot get enough of her. She is all too obliging of his appetite. As her release makes her tighten and spasm around him, he is pushed over the edge himself, spilling inside of her with a groan. He collapses against her, breathing in the scent of almond oil and rosewater, which has grown to be a familiar comfort.

Once he rolls off of her and pulls her to his chest, he is tempted to drift back into slumber for a few more hours. The sun has not long risen and they have nowhere to be. As he is about to let his eyes flutter shut, a sharp knock at the chamber door startles him out of his doze.

Melessa grouses beside him, already half asleep herself, as he disentangles himself and rises from the bed. Slipping into a robe without bothering to fasten it, he stalks toward the door, throwing it open and glaring at the maester who has dared to disturb them.

The elderly man’s eyes go wide as he takes in Daemon’s state of undress, shifting uncomfortably and averting his gaze.

Daemon scoffs. “What is it? Or have you just come to take a look at my cock?”

“N-no, Your Highness,” he stutters. “There was a raven - it’s a message for you. It bears the royal seal.”

Daemon snatches the parchment from the maester before slamming the door in his face. He studies the wax stamped with the three-headed dragon, then turns it over. His name is in handwriting he’d recognise anywhere; Rhaenyra’s. He’s had no news from King’s Landing since he and Melessa were wed. A sinking feeling in his stomach accompanies the overwhelming sense that this won’t bear pleasant tidings.

Father is dead. Come home.

It is as though he has forgotten how to breathe as he reads it over and over. His eyes burn, the words beginning to lose all meaning.

“What is it?” Melessa asks sleepily, her words snapping him out of his trancelike state. She sits up slowly, rubbing her eyes.

“I have to go back to King’s Landing,” he replies flatly. “My brother’s dead.”

She hurries to climb from the bed, standing in front of him and taking his hands in hers. “Oh, Daemon… I am so sorry.”

He nods solemnly, his thumbs rubbing absentmindedly over the backs of her hands. “I will leave within the hour. I’ll come back as soon as I can.”

She shakes her head, her expression earnest. “You aren’t leaving me here by myself. I’m coming with you.”

He huffs a small laugh. Stubborn little thing. Of course she wouldn’t allow him to leave without her. “Then ready yourself to leave within the hour too.”

“What of our belongings?”

“What about them?”

“You can’t carry everything on Caraxes. You won’t be returning here, not now you’re Hand of the Queen.”

The stark realisation hits him almost as hard as the news of Viserys passing. Rhaenyra’s succession had been the very last thing on his mind. His time with Melessa on Dragonstone has come to an end. They’re returning to King’s Landing for good. The thought makes him want to crumple up his niece’s message and pretend he never saw it.

Yet half a day later, they are landing in the capital, Daemon helping Melessa down from the saddle of his Blood Wyrm as she trembles like a leaf. Their entire lives have been packed up and loaded onto a ship which will arrive later. He is struck by overwhelming admiration for his wife’s courage to endure an experience that terrifies her so much, simply for the sake of being at his side. He clutches her warmly against him as Caraxes is led away into the Dragonpit, their final moment of it just being the two of them.

Melessa is taken to get settled within their quarters, while Daemon meets with Rhaenyra. The Silent Sisters have already finished their preparation of Viserys. The body is wrapped and prepared for burning. Oh, how the mighty have fallen. He looks upon it, brow furrowed in sadness and disbelief that what lays before him was once his own brother.

“It is better that you didn’t see him before,” Rhaenyra says gently, standing shoulder-to-shoulder with him. “He was not a man you’d have recognised. I scarcely did.”

“Did they do this?” he asks, not looking at her. His meaning is clear.

Rhaenyra sighs. “You saw how he was the last time you were here. As much as Alicent and Otto want Aegon on the throne, this wasn’t their doing.”

“Has there been any discussion as to the succession?” He turns to her, scrutinising the uncomfortable look that passes across her face.

“It has been difficult enough just to get them to agree to have Syrax burn father’s body. They have been pushing for Sunfyre.”

“Rhaenyra - this is your birthright!” His voice raises, his nostrils flaring with anger. “As soon as the funeral is over, we will deal with the matter of your coronation. Those that oppose it will die screaming.”

A heavy silence falls between the two of them. In it, Daemon contemplates all he has given up in order to support his niece. He longs to turn on his heel and flee back to Dragonstone, back to the life of quiet solitude he’d shared with Melessa; but he cannot abandon his niece. Not a second time. Resentment settles within him, dark and ugly and overshadowing his grief. All of this would be easier were it not for the fucking Hightowers. He will have Otto’s head for this.

The funeral is a tense affair. Alicent stands solemnly off to the side with her children, none of whom look particularly upset, just uncomfortable. Otto is beside her, his expression unreadable. Daemon has asked Melessa not to come, telling her that it was something she was better off not seeing. He regrets that decision. As he watches a tearful Rhaenyra surrounded by Laenor and her children, he cannot shake the feeling of loneliness that overwhelms him. He is with his family, yet none of them are a comfort. The flames of Syrax engulf his brother’s corpse and Daemon is lost, longing for the softness of his wife’s hand in his, and the words he has spent half a year growing so fond of. I love you.

The ashes of Viserys are not yet cold when a meeting of the Small Council is called. Tthe collective mood around the table is sour.

“My father named me heir. There is little to discuss,” Rhaenyra tells those gathered. Her tone is cool, though her discomfort is more than apparent.

“Viserys asked for Aegon to be crowned before he passed,” comes Alicent’s soft rebuttal.

“Lying cunt!” Daemon spits across the table at her, white hot rage causing him to clench his fists as he glares at her. The ceaseless politicking is a waste of his time - he could cut through half the room with Dark Sister using little to no effort.

“Regardless of what has been said, the fact of the matter is that the people of the Seven Kingdoms will never accept a woman as their ruler. I urge you to see reason,” Otto says matter-of-factly, his attention focused solely on Rhaenyra.

“Then we shall let the people decide,” she shrugs, sitting back and crossing her arms. “Put it to a vote, as it was for Father and Rhaenys.”

“Rhaenyra, no!” Daemon urges from across the table. “You cannot put the claim of your birthright into the hands of fucking halfwits!”

Daemon is no fool, he knows that Otto is right. The people would sooner see his drunken, useless idiot of a nephew sit the Iron Throne than allow a woman to take it. She is sure to lose this.

“I am the Realm’s Delight, am I not?” she retorts. “Put it to a vote.”

“Very well,” Otto concedes, a look of smug satisfaction settling across his features. “A vote it is.”

Standing so abruptly it causes his chair to clatter backwards onto the flagstone floor, Daemon storms from the Council chambers, his fist wrapped tightly around the pommel of his sword. He has heard enough.

He seeks out Melessa, hoping the sight of his pretty little wife will calm him, and finds her in the gardens reclining on a bench, her face turned up towards the sun with her eyes closed. She is wearing the backless gown she had on the day he met her. This is the first time he has seen her in it since then. Watching her like this, basking in the warmth of the afternoon with such a genuine smile upon her lips, is a stark contrast to the way she shivers and wraps herself in furs on Dragonstone. Daemon wonders if the happiness he felt between them is entirely one-sided. She looks so… carefree. He decides not to disturb her, walking away with the uneasy sense that he has spent half a year making this poor woman miserable.

The days that follow pass miserably for Daemon as the votes are gathered by raven throughout Westeros on the matter of the succession to the Iron Throne. The waiting is insufferable. Daemon feels as though he is grieving his closeness with Melessa as well as the death of the brother he’d hardly seen for over a decade.

Every time he seeks her out, she is laughing with ladies of the court, walking in the gardens or otherwise occupied, girlish exuberance radiating from her. He wonders if he has ever made her that happy - if he ever will. He isn’t worthy of her purity, her goodness, and being here is a constant reminder of that. She seems so at ease, and he despises it. He feels like a stranger stalking the halls.

She still snuggles tightly against his chest each night and he clings selfishly to her, eager to hang on to what little remains of their isolation on Dragonstone. When he fucks her, her cries echo throughout the Keep, tears of overstimulation rolling down her cheeks. He is rougher with her than usual, and he is all too aware of the fact he is taking his jealousy and frustration out on her, but he cannot help himself. There is a part of him that longs to hurt her for daring to be content in the capital when he is not.

After a week, all of the necessary votes have been collected and counted and the Royal Court gathers in the Great Hall. Rhaenyra stands to the right of the Iron Throne, flanked by Laenor. Jacaerys, Lucerys and Joffrey gaze up at her with hopeful, expectant eyes from the front of the gathered crowd, watched over by the mindful presence of Ser Harwin Strong.

Aegon stands to the left, his slouched posture making it seem as though he’d rather be anywhere else. Helaena is next to him, though no trace of warmth or affection passes between the two. Her floppy demeanour and dreamy expression are indicative that while she is physically present, her mind is somewhere else entirely.

Daemon scoffs in disgust. Gods help them all if the vote goes as he expects it to.

Alicent and Otto are directly opposite, at the head of the gathered audience. Otto appears haughty and smug, while Alicent’s brows are pinched together in anxiety, her fingers picking her nails bloody. A tall, slim brunette girl stands beside Aemond, who appears rakish as ever. It seems no time had been wasted in replacing Melessa.

He feels his wife’s small hand reach out and give his own a reassuring squeeze as the chest that will reveal the outcome of the realm’s act of democracy is carried forth. Looking down at her, a wave of shame washes over him. Her bright eyes are filled with adoration as she gazes up at him. He has spent a week resenting her when all she has done is support him. He turns his attention back to the chest that is now being placed before the throne, unable to stand what he feels when he meets her eye.

He bows his head as it’s opened. He cannot bear to see Rhaenyra’s face when Aegon’s name is read.

Rhaenyra Targaryen.

What? 

Daemon is a difficult man to shock, and yet his jaw drops as he hears his niece’s name called out. She beams proudly as her children whoop and cheer in celebration. Melessa joins in, clapping happily with a wide smile upon her face.

Daemon smirks as he looks across to see the shocked look on Otto’s face. He will take great delight in unburdening the old cunt’s shoulders of his head. Alicent looks as though she will burst into tears, while Aemond’s jaw tenses in displeasure. Aegon, on the other hand, appears relieved at the announcement; his shoulders visibly relax for the first time since he entered the Great Hall. His moonstruck sister-wife applauds next to him, apparently unaware of what this news means for her immediate family.

Though Daemon is pleased for his niece, his disposition darkens further as the days press on and he learns of her plans to allow Alicent and her children to remain in residence at the Red Keep.

“I have not forgotten the love I have for Alicent,” she tells him. “The Targaryen family is stronger united than it is divided.”

At the tearful pleas of Alicent, Otto’s life is spared and he is exiled from King’s Landing, returning to Oldtown. Daemon is enraged at being denied the opportunity to execute him. He has barely begun his duties as Hand of the Queen and already he feels powerless. Worse still, Rhaenyra’s reasoning for sparing his life makes perfect sense - there is no hope of a peaceful alliance between her and the former Queen if she has her father killed. He hates that she is right.

The atmosphere at Rhaenyra’s coronation is jubilant. He knows he should play the part of proud uncle as she is crowned. However, when he is passed the golden Hand brooch, he feels as though he is being fettered and chained to a city he hates. The weight of it pinned to his breast is like an albatross around his neck. 

Melessa is as adoring as ever and he finds himself bristling at her gentle touches and loving looks. He does not deserve her admiration or her love, and now that he no longer has her all to himself, he knows it won’t be long until she realises the same thing. He has everything he’s ever wanted; the perfect wife, the position his brother had always denied him, and yet none of it feels remotely satisfying. Nothing has gone the way he wants it to.

He glowers over his wine cup at the celebration feast. The only people still seated are him and Melessa, as well as Aemond and the woman he has since learned is Aemond’s wife, Floris Baratheon, the result of a hasty marriage arranged by Borros and Otto in order to get Storm’s End on side when it was still intended for Aegon to take the throne. A wasted endeavour. Daemon wonders if they are as unhappy together as they look.

“Dance with me?” Melessa asks hopefully, the brush of her fingertips against his forearm snapping him from his darkened reverie.

He softens as he looks at her, guilt washing over him. She must be bored stiff, but he is in no mood for festivities. “Not now, petal.” He offers as kindly as he can muster, not missing her downcast, disappointed expression.

“Uncle, might I trouble your wife for a dance?”

He looks over as Rhaenyra’s eldest son, Jacaerys, hovers by Melessa expectantly.

“If my lady wife has no objections, then I suppose you may.” He waves his hand dismissively as she rises from her seat, walking arm-in-arm with his nephew towards the centre of the room.

He watches them intently as they move. He doesn’t miss the way they smile at each other, the sound of her laughter carries, and once more he finds himself wondering if he has ever made her that happy. Acrid jealousy begins in his chest and rises in his throat as he watches the way their hands linger on each other.

He knows it is just dancing, knows that he agreed to this, and yet he cannot help the angry scowl that pinches at his brow. They are much more appropriate in age for each other - would Melessa be better suited to someone like him? Perhaps it is his lot to stand powerless as Rhaenyra’s hand and watch his wife slip away from him, into the arms of another.

Desperate for distraction, he leaves the table, grabbing the nearest serving girl as he storms from the hall.

“With me,” he commands lowly, his intentions more than apparent.

She nods and follows as he drags her to the nearest alcove, well away from the celebrations. He makes quick work of unlacing his breeches and pushing her skirts up, not bothering to take the time to properly look at her face or commit to memory what she looks like. It doesn’t matter; she doesn’t matter. He just needs the thoughts to stop.

As he leans in, inhaling, the smell of the kitchens and stale wine fills his nostrils. He has grown so used to the scent of almond oil and rosewater, the difference is jarring and the sharp comprehension of what he’s doing, who he’s doing it with, hits him. His cock softens before he’s even had a chance to press inside of the girl he has pinned against him. He slams his hand angrily against the wall beside her head.

Foolish. Foolish. Foolish.

He should not be doing this. Melessa does not deserve this. He pulls away, unable to look at the poor girl he has inflicted himself upon.

A gasp causes him to turn as he moves to tuck himself away. He feels like his heart stops. He has spent the last couple of weeks wondering if he has ever made his wife happy, but knows at this moment he has never made her look this hurt.

Her blue eyes stare at him, shocked and filled with tears. The plushness of her bottom lip trembles. The sight of it is too much. He reaches for her, and she hiccups a sob, turning and running from him.

He stands rooted to the spot, wanting to go after her but unable to as the realisation dawns too late.

I love you. I love you. I love you.

[seresinsbabe]

Could you combine prompt 6 and 7 of the hurt/comfort prompts with Jake and reader?

Pairing: Jake “Hangman” Seresin x fem!reader

Hurt/Comfort Prompts:

6. “Tell me where you are and I’ll come get you.”

7. “What happened?  Are you okay?”

Warnings: Domestic Violence, Abuse, Alcohol Abuse, General Violence, Angst

Word Count: 1.5k

THIS BLOG AND ITS FICS ARE 18+! MINORS DNI!

I do not consent to having any of my work shared on any other platform. If you see any rendition of my works on another site know that it has been posted without my permission.

A/N: So sorry this took me so long to get out! Also I just kind of started writing and ran with it.

It wasn’t the first time he’d hit you. Hell it wasn’t even the tenth time he’d hit you. It was the hardest he’d hit you so far. So hard you saw stars and then when you had started to stumble he’d pushed you, causing you to hit your head on the kitchen counter. How you hadn’t been knocked unconscious you weren’t sure. Then again, maybe you had and you were finally coming to.

Blake was charming to the outside world. That was how he’d gotten you. He approached you in the bar one night with a charming smile and sweet words. It wasn’t until a little over a month of you dating that he’d started to change. At first it was little things. Like he’d be upset if you weren’t home when you said you would, if you fell asleep before you could switch the laundry into the dryer, or if you were too loud when he was trying to watch tv. Then it started to escalate. He started cutting you off from the outside world. Convincing you to leave your job so he could take care of you. Making your friends out to be bad people so you would cut them off. You already didn’t have any family left so when you took the scissors the strings of your other relationships Blake was all you had left. The man knew what he was doing. He’d done this before. 

Never had you thought you’d let yourself get into a situation like this. You always thought you were smarter than that. Only evil didn’t come at you straightforwardly. By the time you realized exactly what was happening you were stuck. Or at least you felt stuck. You had no money, no friends, no one to run to for help. All you had was Blake and the never ending pain he caused.

Slowly you sat up, trying to stave off the nauseating dizziness that crept up with every movement. Yeah, you definitely had a concussion. It was dark in the house, no sound and you weren’t sure if Blake was still here or not. It wasn’t until you heard the loud apneic snoring coming from the couch that you knew he was still here. All you knew was that you had to get out. You couldn’t let this happen again because then you’d never get out. Not unless he killed you and with the way the beatings were going you were sure that might not be too far away.

Reaching up on the counter top you felt around to try and find your phone. Your heart was beating fast because you had to work quickly. There was no telling how long he would be out for this time. When your hand landed on your phone you fought the urge to let out a sigh of relief. The only reason you still were allowed a phone was so Blake could track you. And he went through it all the time. You were so scared he’d find something you hadn’t hidden well enough that you never tried anything for fear of being beaten. What was so different about this time you weren’t sure. All you knew was that you had to get out. You knew the statistics, every woman did. It was like part of being a woman. Knowing the odds of your survival in different situations with men. 

You sunk back down, tucking your phone into your bra and wincing as you did so. Your arm must have taken some damage, whether it happened when you fell or when he was beating you, you didn’t know. And right now it didn’t really matter. Crawling to the bathroom in your bedroom would take longer than walking, but you had to stay low. Your heart was beating so hard you could hear it in your ears. 

By some grace of the universe the floors didn’t creak as you moved towards the room at the end of the hall. You were getting ahead of yourself and moving too quickly. Your foot bumped into the nightstand by the bed. Empty beer bottles clashed into one another, one of them falling off and landing on your heel. It took everything in you not to yelp in pain. The snoring from the living cut out and you quickly rushed the rest of the way into the bathroom. Silently closing and locking the door behind you. 

It wasn’t the first time you’d locked yourself in this bathroom. Blake had broken the door down before and you’d been left to put it back up. The evidence of his rage is clear as day against the white wood and trim.

You were unsure if he’d woken up. The snoring hadn’t returned, but you also didn’t hear footsteps or his voice. Maybe just maybe luck was still in your side. 

Why your shaky fingers had pressed on his name you weren’t sure, but they had. Maybe it was because you knew Jake Seresin would answer. The ex that got away. You’d never believed in “right person, wrong time” until you’d met him. And you knew he was still in town. You’d seen his truck with that gaudy orange Longhorns sticker on the back of it driving around. 

“Y/N?” He sounded sleepy, but god was his voice comforting. “What happened? Are you okay?”

It wasn’t until you started speaking that you realized you were crying. “J-Jake please come g-get-“

The sound of Blake banging against the store made you scream out. He started spewing threats and you started crying harder. On the other end of the phone Jake could hear everything. By now he’d jumped out of bed, the exhaustion from his most recent deployment replaced with anger and adrenaline. 

“Babydoll, tell me your address. I’m on my way.” Through scared sobs you rattled off your address. You knew he would come, but would he make it in time?

Jake was reluctant to hang up, but he knew he needed backup. Bradley and Javy didn’t hesitate, and neither did Phoenix. They all knew how hung up Jake still was over you. They’d been part of the friends you cut off. Phoenix had been worried, she knew the signs but the others just assumed it was you trying to sever ties with Jake. A woman knew better, but she didn’t have the proof.

He had barely parked his truck before he was jumping out of it. The yelling and banging could be heard from outside and it only angered him more. How many times has it been this loud and your neighbors didn’t do a damn thing?

The front door was locked. It only took two kicks for him to open it. He wasn’t even thinking anymore. He was just feeling. The second he stepped foot in the room was the same second that Blake busted the bathroom door down. The sound of his friends calling out his name was drowned out by the image of you. His babydoll cowering in the space between the toilet and the tub, all battered and bruised. Your eyes wide with fear. He never should have left you. He never should have let the fear of dying on a mission keep him from you. Or the fear of not being able to make you happy. All those stupid fears that made him think he was doing you a favor by leaving you. When all it had really done was push you into the arms of this piece of shit.

Blake wasn’t even paying attention to the other people in the room. He was still drunk and focused on getting to you. It wasn’t until Jake knocked him into the wall that Blake even really registered their presence. It gave Phoenix the space to get to you. 

“Who the hell ar-” his words were cut off when Jake’s fist made contact with his jaw. After that he couldn’t stop. By the time Javy and Rooster were able to pull Jake off him his knuckles were bloody. 

Jake fisted his shirt in his hands, bringing their faces inches apart. “You even look in her direction again and I will. kill. you.” The only reason Jake hadn’t killed him now was because he’d been stopped. He tossed Blake back down, the sound of police sirens pulling up came from outside.

A malicious grin still managed to pull at the corners of Blake’s mouth as he watched Jake turn and walk away. “Enjoy those bruises. She screamed real pretty when I made ‘em.” If it weren’t for Javy pushing Jake forward he would have turned around and gone back for more. Cops or no cops. 

“Hey, don’t worry about him. Right now she needs you.” 

And Javy was right. The second Jake stepped outside you left Phoenix and went to him. Sobs wracking through your body as you clutched onto him like your life depended on it.

“He’s never going to touch you again, I promise.” Jake whispered, he wrapped his arms around you and kissed the top of your head. And for the first time in a long time you knew you were safe.

[loversj0y]

'tis the damn season

chapter one - we could call it even

its your first day back home from winter break, and the overwhelming extent of the holidays leads to some interesting rekindlings

'tis the damn season masterlist

pairing: cc!wilbur soot x gn!reader

fluff and angst (quite a lot of angst in fact)

trigger warnings: reader's mother is abusive (not physically) and father is emotionally absent. this will be talked about in extensive detail. alcohol, some suggestive themes, and a lot of anxiety.

author's note: WELCOME! to the very first installment of a multichaptered fic inspired by taylor swift's tis the damn season! this work has been in progress for about. 4 months now so !! yipee!!! hope u enjoy (chapter two should be out sometime within the next week; i wont make the wait too long between chapters) dont like tumblr formatting? ao3 version is available here!

word count: 6.3k

If you had to be honest, you despised the holidays. It was always stressful, no matter how prepared you tried to be. But regardless, being in your final year of Uni, it was pretty nice to get a final winter break before graduation. The idea of staying with your parents wasn’t ideal. They’d spent years neglecting you and taking a toll on you emotionally, but in the time you’d been gone, it had seemed like things had improved. You agreed to go home for the holidays under this idea, hoping to have a nice break from everything, despite the heavy feeling in your chest that came from being in your hometown – that you’d proudly left behind – and the general dread of the holidays.

Wilbur wasn’t exactly the opposite. While he didn’t mind the holidays themselves, he hated the social conventions of it all. Particularly the insistence that you must be with family or else the holiday isn’t worth anything. However, Wilbur seemed to luck out this year. His mother and stepfather happened to book a cruise for the holidays, and all they wanted from him was to watch the house while they were gone. It gave him both the convention of helping out family without dealing with the mental decline that he gets from actually being around them, mostly his stepfather. So, he’d spend a month in his old bedroom, in the town he dreaded because the number of good memories he’d had all involved one person that left not long before he did.

When you’d finally arrived, it wasn’t long before your parents were hugging you and peppering kisses on your face, talking about how much they’d missed you, and asking if you were eating alright. It was loving, and you did appreciate it, but you felt uneasy. As your mother hugged you, it felt unfulfilling as you looked around the room, each familiar surrounding bringing up memories of your mother’s yelling. You’d settled down fairly easily, which tended to be a perk of returning to your childhood bedroom. After changing into something much more comfortable, you’d returned to where it seemed your family members had accumulated.

“Y/n, darling, my goodness, you’ve grown so much since I’ve last seen you! What are they feeding you out there in London?” It was your aunt who spoke to you. She was tame enough, save for when she got her hands on enough cosmopolitans to feel the need to share everyone’s gossip. 

“It’s nice to see you too. And I cook for myself, in case you were wondering.” You deadpanned. Honestly, you just didn't feel like humoring her advances to pull information out of you. You’d fallen for them as a kid, but now, even with little to hide, you couldn’t quite trust her. 

“Of course, you are, my genius. How’s the dating scene been?” 

You rolled your eyes at the nickname, brushing it off, “Boring as ever.” 

She hummed, taking a sip of her drink.  Ah, looks like she may already be ready to gossip, you thought, noticing the soft flush on her cheeks consistent with her drunkness. Your suspicions were confirmed when she continued, “You know, your mum told me she saw that old fling of yours at the shops the other day. What was his name?” She hummed for a moment, “Wilbur! That’s what it is.” 

Your chest turned to stone in a matter of seconds, and you forced out a response, “Oh, cool.” 

It was not “oh, cool” however, it was very much not cool. You and Wilbur had been friends since the third form, and while you weren’t incredibly close at first, you became much closer as time went on and as social circles grew smaller and smaller.  It came to the point where you two were inseparable, the best friend you’d had even until now. Your “fling” couldn't even really be classified as such. Despite how much you loved Wilbur Soot, you and him just never seemed to break that barrier, save for one weekend in your final year of A-levels. You’d planned to go to prom together, neither of you being romantically involved with anyone else, but you never actually made it to prom. You both went and sat in a field outside the back of the school, sharing a bottle of vodka he’d lifted from his stepdad’s stash. It was then that he’d opened up to you about how embarrassed he felt to be leaving school without having ever kissed a girl before. The mixture of his vodka and your love for him ultimately amounted to a few sloppy kisses, a moment’s worth of making out, before the two of you both had to run from a counselor who was looking for any delinquent students. Neither of you ever addressed it again. 

The years you two had known each other eventually culminated in the same relationship that you had with most people these days: you leaving him and losing contact. You didn’t mean to leave him behind, but between a full scholarship in London and his insistence on how shitty London is, you had to leave. 

You thought about him frequently. There were numerous nights where you’d open up his contact and attempt to draft a message, but it always ended in watching the cursor blink as you struggled to find the words. Honestly, you never thought you’d see him again. You knew nothing about him anymore, what he was like, what he was doing. It was impossible to decide if you dreaded seeing him or would go out of your way to attempt to see him. 

After catching up with your family for a bit longer, you decided to step out. Honestly, you didn’t know where you were going. It was late, almost midnight, and you just needed the fresh air. After walking into town, you found the one thing that would realistically be open this time of night: the pub. It was mostly empty, save for a few older folks sitting in some booths around the wall. You recognized the bartender, he was a few years above you back in school, but he always made an effort to be kind to everyone. He grinned at you once you sat at the bar. 

“Well, if it isn’t Y/N L/N. Shit, I would’ve thought you died," he chuckled, "You visiting for the holidays?” 

“Yep. And trust me, I’d quite rather be dead than be around my whole family all day.” 

He laughed, “Let me guess, a martini for the sophisticated Londoner?” 

You laughed back, “God, no, I haven’t exactly been converted over yet. Just a pint.”

“Still the same as before?” 

“Mmhm,” you nodded out, sighing softly. Being here felt a lot less tense than being at home. At least here you didn’t have to deal with the hushed fights and curses whispered between spouses. 

Wilbur had been incredibly excited by the idea of being alone when he first arrived at his old house a week before. It wasn’t long before it got old. 

“Alright, chat, who should we raid?” 

His chat moved rapidly in response to his words. He’d been playing Minecraft with Tommy, not unlike usual, but he’d been live for an hour and a half, which was a long time to hold up a persona for. Once he’d ended, he stayed on call with Tommy through Discord. 

“I dunno, man. I like being alone, like having the place to myself, but I’ve never felt so lonely,” Wilbur paused, “This place is way bigger than I remember.”

“So go somewhere,” Tommy offered.

Wilbur groaned, “You do understand that there is nothing to do here. It’s part of the reason I settled on Brighton.”

“Oh, c’mon, there’s gotta be something there for you to do. Don’t you have at least, like, a park or a pub maybe? You could go meet women!” 

“Tommy, I know every woman in this town, nobody has moved here or left here since I left,” he sighed, “we do have a pub though. Honestly, that’s not a bad idea. I could go for a drink.” 

“See! Just gotta think outside the box. Have a little optimism, man. Maybe you’ll see that person you knew in school.” 

“Tommy, don’t.” Wilbur genuinely considered leaving the call, his heart sinking at the mention of his old friend, “They haven’t been back since they left, alright?” 

“Yeah, but you never know! Have you thought about what you’d say to them if you did see them?” 

“No,” he groaned, “I don’t know why I’m humoring this, but if I saw them, I’d probably be nice. As much as it hurts, I miss them, and it’s not like I reached out much either, so.” 

Tommy hummed, “Wilbur the Wise, you are. At least maybe if you do see them, you’ll be much less bored.” 

“Yeah, I suppose,” Wilbur sighed, pulling an old beanie on. “Alright, I’m going to head out, talk to you later, man.” 

“Have fun!” 

Wilbur hung up the call after a moment, sighing a bit as he stretched. While he didn’t actually want to go to the pub, it was a better idea than staying in another night. Plus, at least he could get to walk his old path and try and see some of the cats he always used to stop for. 

His walk did end up taking quite a while. He only spotted two cats on the way, but he’d given them as much attention and love as they’d allow. But that wasn’t really what took up so much of his time. He kept going back to what Tommy had asked. Honestly, he did not even consider he’d see you here. For a long time  after you’d left for school, he thought that one day he’d see you walking to the shops and he’d go up to you, and just by saying hello, everything would feel like it used to. After a while, he’d lost hope that he’d ever see you again. He’d tried to find you online, some scrap to see how you had been and to see if you were okay, but he knew he couldn’t exactly just follow you without the risk of questions. He cursed himself for a long while over his pettiness in never reaching out. He thought about that prom night often. Part of him couldn’t make peace with the idea that his best friend, someone who he’d fallen in love with the second they’d spoken to him, was now just a stranger to him. It didn’t make sense to him, but  what made even less sense was when Wilbur opened the door to the pub to find you sitting alone at the bar. 

Wilbur’s breathing went full stop when he saw you. He couldn’t feel his fingers, but whether that was from the cold or the shock he felt seeing you, he couldn’t tell. Once he could feel his body again, he felt his heart pounding in his chest. He’d have to make a choice right now, and he’d have to make one he wouldn’t eventually regret, but-

“Wilbur! Mate, close the door, would you, you’re lettin' in a draft!” 

You felt frozen in your seat when you heard the bartender– whose name, you were kindly reminded, was Liam– yell to Wilbur. You didn’t know if you wanted to look up at him or look anywhere but him. Eventually, curiosity got the best of you, and you looked up directly into his eyes as he stood in the doorway. He seemed to come back to life after a second, turning to walk towards the bar. 

“Uh, right, sorry, man. Could I get a pint?” 

He sat across the corner of the bar, close but still seemingly holding you at a distance. 

After Liam walked away, he turned back to you, and for a moment, you both stared, trying to find words. He’d grown quite fit since the last time you’d seen him. He was still  tall, but not quite as lanky. His shoulders have filled out nicely.  

You decided to start, stuttering a bit as you began, “Hi, Wilbur.”

He seemed to think for a moment before the look faded from his face and something kinder replaced it, “Hi.” 

“How- um,” you contemplated even asking, but you’d rather ask than be sitting here in awkward silence with the boy you’ve loved for years, “How have you been?” 

“I’ve been…” He took in a breath, a moment to compose himself, before responding, “I’ve been good, actually. How about you?” 

You considered lying. “I’m okay, could be better but…”

“But?” 

“Well, I’m still doing the whole uni thing, so still just living in London. Not many developments.” 

“Right. How is London?” 

You thought back to your apartment. Your shitty apartment and your three roommates who you never spoke to, the leaks in the ceilings, the constant noise, the crowds, the grey fogs that would weigh down on your lungs, the deaths on the tube, the harassment just from walking to campus, everything. “It sucks. The city is horrible,” you sighed, “The school is alright, though. The people are standoffish and don’t talk, but the education is good.”

Wilbur looked as though he was fighting off a smile, taking a sip from the beer he’d been given. “I’m sorry to hear that. Glad the school is good. It may not be my place exactly, but do you mind if I say something?” 

Dread filled your chest. “Well, you have to now.” 

A smile crossed his face, his eyes wrinkling at the corners. “I told you so.” 

A moment of processing passed before you burst into laughter. Of course, after all the years you knew Wilbur Soot, you probably could have predicted that would be the first thing he’d want to say to you. 

“Okay, okay, I can admit. Maybe you were a little right. I’ve got my regrets, but despite the city, I don’t hate my choice,” you took a sip from your pint, “what about you? How’s life been?” 

He shrugged a bit, “I’d say good. I did some schooling online and graduated a bit ago. Been doing some work, uh, online, so yeah. It’s been good.” 

“Oh, that sounds cool. Anything I’d know?” 

 “Uh, maybe…” He went quiet for a moment before continuing, “I work for Twitch if you know that company.” 

You shrugged, “I know of them. That’s cool though, I’m glad you found something you enjoy.” 

He smiled a bit, “Yeah, it’s been nice. I’ve made quite a few friends.”

“Really?” That was a bit of a surprise, “Shy little Wilby is making work friends?” 

He seemed to flush a bit, chuckling, “I’ve gotten better about the shyness.” 

“That’s good. You seem to be doing better in that department than I have. I haven’t changed much at all, I think.” 

He hummed, pondering. He stared for a moment, and you almost felt shy under his gaze. Finally, after what felt like ages, he spoke up, “You do your hair differently. You used to part it to the side.” 

You laughed, surprised by the unexpected statement, instinctively reaching up to fix some stray hairs. It brought a blush up to your cheeks, as you couldn’t remember the last time someone had noticed such a small detail as that. You bit your lip for a moment before responding, “Yeah, I- I guess so. Though, to be fair, we kind of had the whole edginess thing going on back then. Had to look the part.”

“Very true,” He snorted a bit, “I still listen to the same music for the most part though.” 

“Oh, let me guess. Favorite band is still Los Campesinos!?” 

“Yeah,” he laughed, “though I play a bit of my music now too.” 

“Oh?” that was a major development. Wilbur spent a significant amount of time in school talking about how much he wanted to play music, always humming some tune to himself, “Will, that’s fantastic. You’ll have to show me sometime.” 

“I could show you now, if you’d like. I’m just watching the house for my parents, so I brought some of my music equipment with me.”

You don’t know what made you so willing to say yes. Maybe it was the fact that you’d finished your pint. Maybe it was just the way that being here and talking to Wilbur made the heaviness in your chest finally lighten up since you first realized you’d have to go home. Either way, before you knew it, you and Wilbur were walking back to his place, chatting lightly the whole way there. 

“Wow, this place hasn’t changed.” 

You took off your coat as you and Wilbur entered his front door. 

“My parent’s haven’t made much of an effort to change things. They think the nineties are still in.” He joked lightly as he locked the door behind you both. 

You chuckled, “Yeah, I can see that.” You followed him up the stairs, “So, you said you were just watching the place for them. I take it you don’t live here anymore?” 

“Nope, I’ve been living in Brighton, actually. I think you’d really like it. It’s still England, so it’s not great, but the ocean is gorgeous.” 

“I’ve been meaning to go down there, actually. It’s only about an hour's train from me, so sometimes my roommates go down there for long weekends. I just haven’t had the time.” 

He hummed, “Well, whenever you do have the time, let me know. I’ve got a pretty nice spare room. Plus, I could introduce you to my mates.”

You smiled softly, mostly to yourself, “Yeah. That would be nice.” 

He sat down on his bed, reaching behind him and grabbing his guitar.  You  took a moment to look around the room. The same posters were still hung up, the dents in the wall from you and him goofing off and throwing things, even the scuffs on the floorboards from when you and him rearranged all his furniture. In the years of separation, you expected more of a difference. The only actual difference was that the room was cleaned for once. You hesitated before sitting next to him as you made your observations. He noticed. 

“What’s up?” 

I shrugged, “It’s weird. Being back here, I mean. I haven’t sat here since A-levels.”

He nodded, thinking it over for a moment. “Yeah. It is a bit weird. Doesn’t it kind of seem like nothing’s changed though?” He chuckled, “I mean, despite the time gap, you always did say being here made you feel safe.” 

“Yeah,” I sighed, “the feeling is still there. I just feel… weird. I’m used to missing you and all of our memories, but I’m not used to being here again after everything that has changed.” 

He smiled slightly, “you missed me?”

I chuckled, “Obviously, man. I missed you every day. Missed having a best friend to bully.” 

He snorted, “Hey, all of our bullying was friendly. Unlike some of the other wankers at our school.”

You laughed, throwing your head back, “Oh god, yeah. Bloody hell, man, I feel bad for their kids. Marshall’s going into medicine, and my god, I pray I never end up as his patient. I feel like his negligence alone would kill me.” 

Wilbur laughed, leaning into you a bit. “God, that is not a man who should have a medical license,” he sighed softly. “Don’t fret, though. I missed you a lot too. I missed having someone yell at me to go outside or cut my hair.” 

You laughed, “Yeah, my yelling comes from a good place, though.” 

He hummed, “True. It did help me not go stir-crazy for a while there.” He paused for a moment, turning towards you slightly. “Wait, if you missed me, then… why didn’t you ever call?” 

You took a deep breath, sighing softly. “Honestly, at first… I thought you might be mad at me for leaving. We did kind of have a whole argument about it, and I didn’t know if you’d want to hear from me. And then, once some time had passed, I considered it. I considered looking you up and trying to talk to you, or even just texting you, but I just felt like it might’ve been weird for me to just text you out of the blue. I didn’t want you to think I was just contacting you because I needed something or something stupid like that. I got busy, and more time passed, and reaching out just felt weirder and weirder each time I considered it.” 

He nodded softly. He didn’t make eye contact as he listened and thought. “If I’m being honest as well, I didn’t want to hear from you at first. I was pretty upset. But after a while, I just missed my best friend. And I was going to text you, but I thought you’d be upset with how we left things. I wanted you to reach out because if I had hurt you, I couldn’t handle reaching out only to get anger, or even worse, just silence,” He sighed, “but if I knew you were thinking the same, I would have dedicated as much effort as I have to keep you in my life.” 

You flushed a bit, “I would have too.” You made eye contact with him and everything felt warm for a moment, as if his gaze was sunlight peering through dark clouds. 

“Now that I know, though,” he started, “I am going to annoy the fuck out of you.”

You laughed loudly at that, grinning up at him, “I wouldn’t have it any other way. We’ve got a few years to make up for after all.” 

He grinned softly, looking down for a moment. He pulled his guitar up a bit, smiling, “Well, now that that’s settled. Let me play you something.” 

Wilbur’s music was beautiful. He played for an hour before he decided to stop, something about not wanting to play anything he hadn’t quite finished yet. 

“Always the perfectionist, you are,” you commented as he placed his guitar down. 

“Not always, I’ve gotten better about it. But I want to impress you mostly.” 

“Really?” He sat back down on the bed next to you, “You wanted to impress me?” 

He nodded, humming out a soft ‘mmhm’. 

“If I knew we were trying to impress each other, I would’ve made my life sound much cooler.” 

“Oh, really, how so?” 

“I dunno, would’ve made it sound like I have some millionaire boyfriend who takes me to Spain for a casual date.” 

He hesitated, his teeth taking his bottom lip in thought. “Do you have one?”

“A millionaire boyfriend?” You laughed out, “No, Wilbur, I d-“

“No, I just meant like, a boyfriend.” 

“Oh.” You frowned a bit, “No. I don’t. Haven’t exactly gotten to know many people there. Plus, all the men are quite shit.” 

He nodded, “Just like everything else in London?”

“Pretty much,” You chuckled softly, “What about you though? A handsome guy like you in Brighton, I’m sure you’ve gotten yourself, someone, by now.”

He shrugged, “Tried it out for a while, but I just didn’t have much luck.” He stopped as he processed your response in full, “Hold on, handsome? You think I’m handsome?” He teased. 

You lightly blushed, rolling your eyes, “Obviously, man. You’ve always been quite fit. Especially with that haircut rather than that straight line cut you used to have.” 

He laughed, “God, that was horrendous. Well, wait, how about now,” he took his hands and pushed his hair back, revealing his forehead. 

You burst out laughing, “Somehow, yes, even if your forehead takes up half your face.” 

He laughed, moving his hands and shaking his head to get his hair to fall back into place. “I can safely say, I find myself quite flattered. Especially coming from an incredibly pretty person such as yourself.” 

You flushed a soft pink, “You think?”

“No, I don’t think, I just know facts.” 

You blushed darker, chuckling. “Well, thanks.” You lightly nudged him with your side. 

He repeated the action, albeit slightly harder. You two did this for a moment, each going slightly harder until he’d accidentally gone a bit too hard, knocking both of you down. 

You both laughed, him laying his head against your side for a moment, before pulling himself up and holding himself up by his arm above you. 

“You’re still as goofy, Mr. Soot.” 

“Only with you.” 

“Oh?”

“Actually, no. But this kind of goofy, yes.” 

“And what kind is that?” 

He just stared down at you for a moment. You felt yourself flush a bit under his gaze, and you stared back up at him. The light from his room gave him a soft halo glow around his head that made him look completely angelic. You’d always thought him attractive, but fuck he was ethereal like this. 

“The kind I do to make pretty people laugh.” 

Your breath hitched, but you were quiet otherwise. You couldn’t remember a time when your best friend was ever so… bold. Maybe part of you was reading into the tension, but the most gorgeous man you’d ever know just called you pretty. That plus his position above you was enough to make your heartbeat faster. You wanted to kiss him. Something in you felt so strongly the urge to wrap your hands around his neck and kiss him. For some reason you couldn’t quite fathom, though, you didn’t. 

“Well, feels nice being special, then.” 

He laid down next to you, the both of you just staring at the ceiling for a few quiet moments as the tension diffused. 

He turned to you. “I can’t tell if I still know almost everything about you or if I know nothing anymore.” 

“I can’t tell either.” You turned back to him, sighing, “Honestly, you probably still know more about me than I do.” 

“You think?” 

You nodded. 

He thought to himself, “Still play Minecraft?” 

“God, no,” You laughed, “I wish. I just don’t have the time for anything like that. I’ve just been studying constantly.” 

“Unfortunate. If you ever need a break from studying, we could always play together.” He hummed, “ They’ve added a lot of cool things to the game.”

“You still play?” 

“Yeah,” he nodded, “I play a lot. It’s a fantastic narrative tool, in fact.”

“Oh, really?”

“If you have enough people willing to work out a story and act it out, it makes for a cool platform to tell stories.” 

You smiled, despite it being only for Wilbur’s sake. Honestly, you were sad that you didn’t know what he was talking about. 

“What’s up?” 

“Hm?” You questioned softly. 

“Something’s wrong. I still know one of your fake smiles when I see them.”

“Oh,” you mumbled, “no, it’s just… I missed you. I’m a bit bummed that I can’t see the cool stuff you’ve done since.”

“Well,” he started, rubbing the back of his neck, “actually, you can.” 

You gave him a confused look as he continued. 

“You know how I mentioned I worked for Twitch?” You nodded, “well when I say that, I mean that I stream, actually, so playing live for people and that includes all my stories.”

“Wilbur, that’s amazing.”

“I know,” he laughed, “I’m still shocked people are interested in what I write and create.” 

“If they’re anything like your DnD campaigns, I’m not shocked at all.”

He laughed again, throwing his head back, “Oh, man, I loved making those as convoluted as possible though, you were the one who made the stories make sense. These are more streamlined since we have to deal with so many different schedules and coordinate stuff.” 

“God, that sounds stressful. I can barely coordinate plans with one person.” 

He shrugged, “It’s easier since streaming is all of our jobs. It’s more like assigning work shifts.”

You hummed, “That makes sense.”

“Yeah, I can send you some stuff from it. Though, be warned, without your aid, some pieces of lore are wildly convoluted.” 

You chuckled, “I expect nothing less.” 

You and Wilbur continued to talk for hours, just catching each other up on life and new habits, and every detail missed between the cracks of time you two were separated from each other. You couldn’t be sure when you or Will fell asleep, but you woke up feeling safer than you’d had in a long time. When you’d briefly woken up to the morning light coming through the blinds, and you noticed his lanky arm wrapped around you, you gently reached down and held his hand in yours before falling back into the kind arms of rest. 

You woke up again about two hours later. You were facing him now, both of your legs wrapped between each other, and his arm was still lightly cupping your back. You opened your eyes to see him still sleeping, a soft and peaceful expression on his face. You gently reached a hand up to brush some of his hair away from his eyes. You were so busy staring at his soft features that you barely noticed his eyes open. 

“Good morning to you too, then,” he spoke, his voice laced with sleep. 

Your hand jumped back, a blush immediately rising to your cheeks, “Sorry.”

“‘s alright. Felt quite nice, actually.” He blinked the sleep out of his eyes after a moment, and he flushed himself, going to move his hand off your waist, “Oh, sorr-“

“No.” You stopped him, his arm halting midair, “It’s okay. It felt quite nice,” you said, mimicking his words from a moment ago. 

He blushed, cautiously lowering his arm back onto your side. 

“Did you sleep well?” He asked. 

“Yeah. Your room feels more familiar than mine, honestly.” 

He chuckled, his laughter slightly gruff from the early morning, “You probably spent more time here than at your own place, so I can’t say I’m shocked.”

You laughed, “Oh, almost definitely. What about you, did you sleep well?” 

He smiled at you, nodding, “Best I’ve slept since I got here. I felt much less lonely.” 

“I know what you mean. My room kind of just feels cold. Not temperature-wise, but just like,” you sighed, “you know what I mean.”

“Luckily, I do.” He smiled, “You’re welcome to stay here again, if you like.”

You hummed, “I might consider it. Though I would like to stop home to put on something clean.” 

He nodded, “Right, of course, yeah. I actually have to stream today, too, so, if anything, just,” he trailed off, “text me around eight?” 

“Yeah,” you nodded, “That sounds good. I can bring some food from home too, given that I know you have probably just been eating takeout or, god forbid, have been trying to cook by yourself.”

“Hey, I’m much better at cooking than I used to be,” he laughed. “You’re right about the takeout, though.” 

You snorted, “I know you well, Mr. Soot.” 

He smiled fondly, “You sure do.” 

The two of you just lay there quietly, basking in the early air and light. After a few minutes, you sighed, leaning your head against his chest quietly. 

“Is everything alright?” He whispered. 

You nodded against him, burying your face deeper against him while he wrapped his arms tighter around you. You felt emotional all of a sudden as you held onto him: Your best friend, who you’d secretly loved for years. And now, you thought about what held you back in the past. The main thing you were afraid of was losing him, but in the end, that ended up happening anyway. Love confession or not, you lost him, and now, you were given another chance by whatever fateful creature may exist out there. And as insistent as you were to not lose this chance, your logic stopped you. This trip was just that: a trip. In two weeks, you’d be back to your place in London and he would be back in Brighton. But yet there was an ache in your chest, consistent with longing and want but entirely unattainable. 

“Stop thinking so much,” he spoke softly, placing his chin on top of your head. 

“Wilbur, you know that is entirely impossible for me.” 

“Okay,” he trailed off, “then do you want to talk about it, so it can at least be out of your head?”

You did. You wanted to talk about it all, in its entirety, if only just to know if the ache present in your chest matched an ache in him. But you couldn’t. If that ache wasn’t present in him, who would you be to share it with him? The solution seemed to lie in half-truths.

“I’m just thinking about how I go home in two weeks and how much I’m dreading it. I don’t want to go back to schoolwork.”

He hummed, nodding, “It’s probably not helpful to say, but if you dwell on that the whole time you’re here, then it will come twice as fast. You’ve got to slow your brain down a bit. Try and just be in the moment.” 

You snorted, “That’s rich coming from you.” 

He chuckled, “Hey, my anxiety might take over sometimes, but it really does help to try and just focus on what’s happening, you know. You’re safe here,” he lightly kissed the top of your head, “so just focus on being here.” 

You sighed, “I’ll try.” You shifted your focus to the soft sound of his heartbeat against your ear, the feeling of his arms wrapped around your back. Every detail was comprised of him. 

You eventually did have to go home, after receiving a frantic call from your mum about how you “couldn’t just sneak off every time you got bored” which, granted, you disagreed with; you knew this town like the back of your hand, and you’re an adult so it’s not like she can dictate your every move. When you made it home, you went to your room to change and shower, but your thoughts immediately drifted back to Will. You never really noticed just how many minute details you had memorized, like the way his eyes crinkled when he laughed, or the way he would tilt his head back when something that caught him offguard made him really laugh. You thought about the way he would hiccup in between laughter so strong it made his ribs hurt. The sly smile he would give you when you made eye contact but neither of you had anything to say.  Your thoughts were entirely consumed by him. 

By the time it was dinner, you had done almost extensive research into Wilbur’s online persona. You watched as many videos as you could, some of his, some of them fan-made. It was a weird concept, your best friend having fans. You’d gone onto the online space briefly before backing away. You didn’t exactly want to intrude on fan debates given how much you knew about Wilbur really. It was odd watching him talk to his chat and everything. It was so different. He didn’t seem like the shy, almost moody, boy you knew. He was much more confident and comfortable. It did warm your heart to see him being so strong in himself. Your mind wonderer over this new information, how different he was from the person you knew, as you ate. You almost didn’t hear your mum speaking to you. 

“Dear, are you listening?”

You brought yourself out of your thoughts, grimacing. She hated when you weren’t listening, “Oh, sorry. No, uhm, what’s up?” 

She frowned, giving you a cold stare, “I asked if you’ve found any jobs lined up yet. For after graduation?” 

You sighed, “Not yet, Mum.”

“Because my old work friend, Charles, he could use the extra folks there. They’re looking into expanding into America.” She never actually cared much about what you wanted to do, always trying to push you into the field she wanted you to pursue. 

“I’ll be fine. I can find a job myself. And Charles doesn’t even work in the same field my degree is in.” 

“Just trying to help,” she tutted, tucking her arms defensively in front of her. “What’s on your mind these days?” 

You shrugged tensely, “School and work. I haven’t had time for much else.”

She cooed, almost mocking, “You really should be looking into a relationship, dearie. You don’t want all the good ones taken, right?” 

“God, mum, stop that. I’m fine on my own.” 

“But are you happy?” She laughed, as if taunting you. 

“I resent the implication that I cannot be perfectly fine and happy on my own without the presence of another person to fulfill me.” You spat.

“I’m not saying that specifically, I’m just saying, you really ought to try harder. I’m sure most people don’t find your constant sweatpants that attractive.” 

You groaned, standing. “I can’t be here for this anymore.” 

She did this every year. Constantly reminding you of your own loneliness under the guise of being thoughtful and caring, rather than just understanding that you are your own person who’d rather be alone before feeling like someone’s personal doll. 

You strode to the kitchen, filling a container with some leftovers for Wilbur as your mother tried helplessly to justify her own points. You waved her off, grabbing your bag before walking out the door.

You let out a sigh once you headed out. You walked to the end of the street and sat on the curb, pulling out your phone to text Wilbur. Once you got confirmation that you could come, you stood and walked the short distance to his place.

He opened the door, and you walked in casually. 

“You look annoyed about something,” he noted. 

“I would like you to take a wild guess,” you hummed, handing him the leftovers. 

He murmured a quick ‘thank you’ before responding, “Your mum?” 

“Still as bad as before, she is.” 

He sighed, “At least you’ve got mine to hide out at. Want to watch a movie or something?” 

taglist: @shubblelive / @superioritycomplexes (dm me or send an ask to be added!)

[ghostlychief]

I am on my hands and knees BEGGING for a Joel and Ellie type relationship with Captain John Price and reader oneshot (and fic recs if anyone knows of any). Like the found family shit, I live for it. 😭

thanks for requesting! hope you enjoy

--

John Price/reader; Joel and Ellie type relationship

wc: 800+

warnings: none

--

You were running. You don’t think you’ve ever run this fast before in your life, but you had to get away. Your lungs were on fire, and your shins ached as you pushed yourself further through the forest.

Unfortunately, you could still hear the footsteps of the infected behind you. You frantically looked around looking for any hiding spot you could find some respite from your marathon.

Your eyes caught sight of some sort of crevasse in the ground, which was partly covered by the large roots of the tree it was under.

Bingo.

You sprinted in that direction, and slide yourself under the roots and brush. Tucking your knees up against your chest you waited for them to find you.

Though, that moment never came. You sighed and leaned your head back, finally catching your breath.

You reach in your pack digging around in it and you realize you’re running low on supplies. You didn’t really want to leave the confines this burrow, but you knew you had to keep going.

Lifting yourself out of the hole, you quietly step out of the cover, and look around, listening for any signs of the infected near you. You seem to be in the clear, they must have moved on.

You had a general idea of where you were going, but you took our map out just in case. You’re trying your best not to make any noise as you continue through the woods. You’re hoping to come across a road which will hopefully lead to a town.

You may have been walking for 30 minutes or so when you hear a screech off into the distance. By now, you know damn well who made that sound and sweat drips down your temple. You put your map away and take out your hand gun.

Your aim was still more or less shit, but hey, it provided you with some semblance of comfort.

The screeching gets louder and louder and before you know it, you’re running again. Every once in a while, you glance back to see if they’re still following, and yup, they are.

You were looking behind you now, and still running at a full sprint, when you slam into something hard. At first you think it’s a tree, but you realize it moved when you hit it, so definitely not a tree.

You hear, “What the fuck?”

You look up to see a man with a beard glaring down at you. He’s tall, maybe 6’2, and he has this sort of roughness about him that oddly leaves you feeling safe. He looks like he’s in his mid-forties.

“What where you’re going, yeah?” He’s still glaring at you but you don’t care.

You probably look crazy but you grasp him by the shoulders and scream, “They’re coming! Please, they’re coming.”

You see him look behind you and when his eyebrows quirk up you know that he’s seen them. Meaning, it’s only a matter of time before they reach you and this man.

“Get behind me.”

You start to say, “But-,” though he cuts you off, and with a sterner tone says, “Get behind me.”

You fight the urge to scoff but listen to the stranger, and you place yourself behind him. He slightly outstretches his arm, as if blocking you from standing beside him or in front and he raises his rifle up. You failed to notice he had one to begin with.

As the infected pour into the clearing, the loud shot of the rifle pierce through the woods, bullet after bullet as this man takes down the clan of infected.

“Damn, you really know how to shoot. Can you teach me by any chance?” He glances back at you, and your pistol is resting in your palm ad you have a hopeful smile on your face.

Making sure there’s no more infected, he finally turns around to face you. “How old are you kid?” The glare is back in his eyes as he talks down to you.

You glower back at him, “Old enough to have a gun.”

He has the audacity to scoff, “Doubt it.”

He places his hands on his hips and you hear him let out a long drawn-out sigh. “Who are you with?”

You just shake your head, “No one. I’m on my own.”

He curses under his breath.

Before he can say anything else, you jump to say, “Is there any chance you could help me get supplies? Please, I just need to get some more water and matches. Then I’ll be out of your hair.” He lets out another sigh.

This man really likes to sigh, you think.

He shifts on his feet, contemplating your ask. “Fine. But then we’re done.”

You grant him a big smile, “What’s your name?”

His gruff voice trails across the air, “Price. I go by Price.” --

[thedanniannie]

Fully Enamored - Itachi Uchiha POV fic

You're getting ready for a date night with Itachi. You saved your nicest outfit for tonight, and let's just say Itachi is OBSESSED...

✨️fluff/praise GALORE✨️

Gender neutral reader

(This is written as a POV from Itachi, so while I imagined him, feel free to replace your mental image with any introverted fictional character who has big feelings but can't communicate them to save their life)

Also itachi putting his hand over his mouth is purely an idea from my friend, Ezra. She told me she saw him doing that so you wouldn't see him smile or biting his lip, and it was do hot I had to include it.

.

.

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"I'm almost done!" they project from the hidden space of their bathroom.

"Don't feel rushed my love. I can wait."

I take my place on the freshly fluffed couch. Examining the usually cluttered coffee table, I can tell they must have lost track of time from cleaning their apartment. It must have been entertaining, to be present to watch them fumble with the unfolded laudry, to watch their eyebrows scrunch together when they organize their belongings, and to look over at them as they curse to themselves for letting their space become so hectic yet again. They did well, the home is spotless. It doesn't bother me to wait for them in the living room, their choice of decor was like a museum. The walls a collage of photos and paintings from family and friends. The coat rack was tipping with more jackets than a single person could need. The shelves filled with trinkets, and I could recognize some of the items from second hand shops and art fairs we had visited together.

Perfect, it was so perfectly them. I could gaze at these walls for days. They were generous with their personality, to me, to their friends, and to their home. But no matter how generous they were, no amount of them could satiate my need for them. Maybe there was a slight lie in what I said earlier, I can't wait. I need to see them now.

Their feet begin to move and I hear the light switch click. I wrap two fingers to cover the corners of my already upturning lips before cocking my head to meet their eyes.

The three seconds that I got to look at them felt like an eternity. An eternity that I was happy to be prisoner in. Their beauty caged my heart, my soul, and never did I wish more than in this moment for a key that could unlock this cage to never exist. Their walls were a gallery, and they were the Louvre. They deserved to be seen by the world, for everyone to know how it feels to be drunk on their ethereal grace, and to be lost in thought by meeting them. But at the same time the world doesn't deserve them. I don't even deserve them. A being so beautiful, even a divine creator from above is in shock and awe. A drug that no parental figure ever warned me about. I look at their eyes, their fly away hairs, their lips, fingertips, the dips in their skin, they way they're fumbling with their belongings right now and the energy I feel shoots up my veins, and it makes me feel dizzy and idiotic. They're excruciating, and it scares me enough to want to run away. It's torturous to sit here and not let myself slip into an uncontrollable and maddening love sickness, that is if I wasn't already. I fear I am all consumed.

"Do I look fine?" They ask me with that insecure and inquisitive tone. Such an aching tone to hear.

But I'm no better. Every time I finally form the words to remind them of their beauty, eventually I find the words are not enough. They're beyond words, but my stomach turns sour when I bring myself out of their trance and the only pathetic sentence that can come out of my mouth is...

"Yes... you look wonderful darling..."

[kesh8]

A labourer’s reward

‧₊˚- Synopsis – Pantalone has a new idea for your debt payment

‧₊˚- Word count – 1.5k

‧₊˚- Cw– Fem! reader, nsfw, cunnilingus, spanking, Pantalone is dominate, my first fic so ignore how bad it is

It isn’t often that someone as grand as Pantalone would even think to let a mere labourer work under him, yet here you were, standing in his lavishly decorated office.

Marble floors freshly polished, a fur rug from an animal most likely extinct, trinkets you don’t even want to know how much mora were wasted on. Everything in his office was perfectly organised, fitting for a man such as him.

You heard the door behind you click, with the lock snapping after it, telling you someone has entered.

The smell of a rich vanilla, jasmine, and another scent so extravagant it was unrecognisable to you had filled the room upon his arrival. His scent was always so intoxicating, you bet it came from one of the richest businesses in Liyue, custom made, just for him.

A light chuckle ruptured from his chest, snapping you out of your daydreams.

“M-my lord, I’ve finished the paperwork you’ve assigned me.” Right. That's why you were here. Only to drop off a simple envelope, filled with work you had already completed inside.

“I see your imagination must be working as hard as you?” Embarrassment took over you when he said that, your cheeks gaining a slight blush.

His boots click as he approaches you, the sound echoing loudly off the shined floors. His hand trails over your shoulder, sending chills through your body. He always made you nervous, but not in a way you deemed unwelcomed. He was such a charismatic man, it was only natural your feelings for him began the moment he accepted you, a peasant, to work under him to pay off debts. Yet all you were compared to him was a speck of dirt. You always viewed him as some kind of generous after the offer, despite being a harbinger, it appeared he showed at least some sympathy for you.

His grip became firmer on your shoulders for a moment, squeezing them before moving to face you. He took the papers from your hand, handling them with care as if they were a fragile Snezhnayan glass. One of the other things you valued about him, his tenderness. Even if it was just a facade, you didn’t care. You practically drooled over it every night.

“I appreciate your time going into the papers. Without fail you’ve managed to complete all tasks on time, no setbacks. Surely, your hiring hasn’t been a mistake.”

He swiftly made his way to his desk, taking a seat in his chair, crafted with only the most luxurious woods.

The praise, no matter what it was about, never failed to make you weak in the knees.

You gave a quick nod in return, not quite sure how to respond back. Before you could turn to open the door, he stopped you, telling you to come to him. That made your heart pound against your chest. You couldn’t tell at that moment what he wanted, and you weren’t sure what you wanted, either. You wanted to leave the room, growing more nervous every moment you spent alone with him, but you also wanted to stay. Stay with him, go closer, accept whatever is going to happen, at the expense of being able to stand in his presence even just a second longer.

Now standing alongside a chair that was facing his side of the desk, you remained silent, waiting for him to break the ice.

“Lately, I’ve had a more…. interesting form of paying back what you owe, if you’re up to it, that is.” You could hear his smirk laced through his words.

While your debts weren’t exactly measly, they weren’t large either. You grew curious at what other tasks you could possibly do. Other than skills you picked up being a labourer, you had nothing else to offer. Maybe the clothes off your back, but even then, he was kind enough to give you these when you took up this job.

Feeling as you owed it to him, you accepted the offer.

He rose to his feet, coming to stand right beside you in the middle of the desk, where 2 other chairs used to be prior to him pushing them out of the way.

You felt heat sneak up onto your cheeks, he was rather close to you, The heat radiating off his muscular body warmed you. His hand made its way to your face, caressing your cheek softly. All you could do is stare at him like a lost puppy, lost in the moment.

You took a moment to indulge in his looks, no denying he was good looking, after all. His pale skin complimented his smooth lips quite nicely. His features all went together pleasantly, like a perfectly fitting puzzle. The coat he draped over his shoulder left much to the imagination, leaving you undressing him with your eyes, a guilty pleasure of yours.

He found it amusing, watching you stare. He stifled a small laugh at the sight.

“If you wish, you may take a taste” He cooed in your ear.

You hadn’t realised he was watching you so intently, turns out your poker face isn’t as sheltering as you thought. You hesitated on the offer. Obviously, you wanted to kiss him, who wouldn’t? But you couldn’t shake the nervous effect he still had on you. Truth be told, you were desperate for him.

Reluctantly, you pressed your lips against his, and he was quick to take over. His lips were soft against yours, the kiss was sloppy, but it didn’t matter in the moment, your current priority was tasting more of him. He bit your bottom lip, You opened your mouth with a slight gasp of surprise. His tongue glided into your mouth, making you whimper almost inaudibly, though you heard him snicker at your reaction.

He pushed you back against the desk and pressed his knee in between your thighs, in an attempt to coax a reaction out of you. The whines that came from your lips were like music to his ears.

“Already moaning for me and I haven’t even properly touched you yet. Somebody's desperate.” He teased, dragging out his last words.

You were on cloud nine, your fantasies playing out right here, right now. As long as you got more, you couldn’t care less how desperate you seemed.

“Fuck.. more, sir” you panted in between eager kisses.

“My, look at you, acting like a slut, but who am I to not entertain?”

He hiked your loose-fit skirt up to your waist and ordered you to sit in his personalised chair. The embarrassingly large wet spot in your panties made itself more obvious as Pantalone spread your legs apart. His gloved fingers found their way to your clit, making you gasp for air at the unexpected contact.

The extra friction from your cloth underwear made it that much more intense. He ghosted his fingers over the glistening garment, making you bite back noises of pleasure.

Even in the midst of this, Pantalone seems untouchable. He still wears the same sly smirk as he did entering the room. He is fully in control of this situation, you and him both aware of the fact.

The Regrator found himself growing bored, taking it upon himself to advance. He slips your panties down to your ankles and you suddenly feel a shaky breath on your heat, your hole fluttering around nothing. He drags his tongue along your folds, just ghosting over the skin, looking up at you with that shit eating grin. But hell is it hot. You’re completely at his mercy. You squirm in the chair beneath you, trying to get some sort of relief.

A hand lands a harsh slap on your thigh, ripping a yelp from your throat.

“You’ll move only when I tell you to.” Harsh orders from the 9th Harbinger make you internally scream.

All you do is mumble a “Yes, sir” in response, not wanting to anger him further.

He wants things to start moving, seeing as he’s fast to getting back to what he was occupied with before being disturbed by a brat. His tongue finds your clit, and waves of arousal wash over you. He hollows out his cheeks, beginning to suck on your needy bud.

He mentally notes your vocal when pleasured, whimpers and moans falling out of your mouth at every moment he spends on you.

The oh so familiar feeling in the pit of your stomach starts to create itself, making you burn with anticipation.

“Pantalone I-I’m close” You tremble as you speak.

He suddenly inserts two of his long digits into you. Your back arches against the smooth chair, while your head falls back in ecstasy. His pace grows to a rapid speed, determined to help you reach your climax.

“Come for me, labourer.” As fast as the words leave his mouth, you release all over his face and fingers, voice growing hoarse as more moans come from your lips.

He stands in front of you, licking your juices off his fingers, savouring your sweet taste.

Your chest rises up and down as you struggle to catch your breath from one of your biggest dreams playing out right in front of your eyes.

“I conceive this as sufficient pay.”

[sophierequests]

The f!reader x Nikolai fic including Vasily was gorgeous! I just found it and wow - perfection. Absolutely jaw dropping.

Could I get a follow up fic about Nikolai's recovery? Maybe there are some after effects of the poison and he's struggling to get better. He's back at the Grand Palace but the fever, pain and dizziness keep plaguing him and he's having a hard time dealing with being so weak and feeling sick. Besides the wound on his chest hasn't healed either yet...

Basically reader being cute af and taking care of sick Nikolai (maybe also Vasily being a little but caring shit lmao)

bring me back to life // in the bright lilac light part two

Navigation┃Main Masterlist┃Request

Pairing: Nikolai Lantsov x f!Reader

A/N: This is part two to my 'Violet Rot' fic, so please check that out before you proceed with this one. Otherwise, you probably won't understand some of the references and the general set-up. I did not expect that anyone would want a part two to this particular fanfic, but I'm very glad you asked! Taking care of a sick Nikolai is very dear to my heart <3 Now I just have to wait for someone requesting a part three with the wedding djhalhldhja Thank you for requesting this, I hope I managed to live up to your expectations <3

You can find part one here!

Summary: Recovery is hard and there is nothing one can do to speed it up - very much to Nikolai's dismay.

Genre: Hurt/Comfort, very much Fluff

Word Count: 4.2K

Warnings: Mention of death, blood, injuries and Vasily

"Why does he still look like he's standing on death's doorstep?" Vasily whispered to you as he looked down on his very sickly-appearing brother, who was supposed to have recovered from his injuries by now.

"Try getting stabbed with a poisoned blade and we'll see how you look after barely a week of being home," you replied, letting a comforting hand run through Nikolai's golden hair, carefully removing the wet strands that stuck to his fever-stricken forehead.

"I'm sure I'd at least have a little bit more…colour on my cheeks. That's all. He looks terrible," the prince mumbled almost childishly.

"I'm not unconscious, Vasily. I can hear you. Loud and clear for that matter. And it's not really aiding my headache," your fiancé rasped out, his voice heavy with exhaustion.

"I think it would be best if we'd give him a bit of space. Some peace would very likely do him some good," you sighed as you filled up another glass of water to at least keep him hydrated, putting it beside his bed and attempting to stand up.

"Stay, please." You felt his hand tightening around your wrist, his grip hardly firm enough to pull your hand towards him.

"I'll take that as my sign to leave." Vasily gave you a courteous nod before sauntering to the door. "Don't die while I'm gone, brother. I'd hate to be the one having to break the news to mother."

"Don't get blackout drunk. I'd hate to be the one having to tell Nikolai about you vomiting into one of the plant pots again," you called after him, earning a faint chuckle from the man next to you and an offended grunt from his brother.

You turned back to Nikolai, watching him struggle as he attempted to sit up. The wound on his chest was still an oozing mess that just didn't want to heal properly. He could barely move his torso to complete the most basic tasks, and it infuriated him deeply. The additional fever and dizzy spells didn't improve his already low spirits.

"I hate to admit it, but our pompous little prince is right. You do look terrible, my love."

"Oh, so now you're taking his side?" he lamented dramatically, presumably putting all his energy into the act.

"Well, he is to be my future brother-in-law, after all. I must agree with him occasionally or else he might think badly of me. And who would want that?" you mused with highly sarcastic undertones.

"And I'm your future husband, does that not have any merit in the matter?"

"You're right. I should marry Vasily instead. Just to not commit any sort of treason by periodically opposing my beloved." Nikolai's gaze shot towards you, shock and a slight hint of disgust in his eyes.

"Don't you dare even think about that," he griped, fiddling with the delicate engagement ring on your finger.

It was a habit he had picked up ever since he had proposed to you. Whenever nervousness or stress overtook him, he'd reach out to take your hand into his, mindlessly twisting and turning the golden band. On the rare occasion that you weren't around, he would do the same with his own. It just wasn't as comforting.

"I would never," you snorted. "I do have standards. Even though I had to tweak them quite a bit to consent to marrying you."

Instead of giving you one of his snarky comebacks, he squeezed your hand one last time before letting go of it. His free hand reached for the glass of water on the side table next to him, but he was too weak to properly hold on to it, causing it to shake heavily. You quickly snatched it out of his hand, earning a dissatisfied glare from the young Lantsov.

"Love, I can-"

"Your hands are shaking like reeds in the wind, darling. As much as I would love to see you do all these things by yourself again, you can't right now. And that's okay. I'll take care of you until then," you assured.

"It's just so…frustrating," he let out a huffed breath, visibly overwhelmed by the whole situation.

He wanted nothing more than to just feel like his old self again. It infuriated him how weak he was. The pain should have gotten better by now, yet he still felt like a frail porcelain doll that threatened to break every time it left the shelf. And as much as he appreciated you taking care of him, he couldn't shake off the feeling of being useless.

"I know," you sighed, letting your eyes trail down to the bandage covering his chest. "But the more pressure you put yourself under, the longer it'll take for you to get better."

Nikolai turned his head to the side, not wanting you to see his face in case he wasn't able to keep the tears from falling. You seeing him cry would only humiliate him more, he thought.

"Nikolai." You cupped his cheek with one hand, pulling his face back to look at you. He hated that you knew him well enough to realise what was going on inside his head. "Don't be so hard on yourself. We're all so relieved that you're alive - even Vasily. No one expects you to do anything other than recover. No matter how long that might take. Please get some rest and let me help you."

"You shouldn't have to take care of me," he breathed out. "You shouldn't have to worry about my health or whether I will make it through the night. I'm so sorry for putting you through all of this."

"I'm not doing this because I have to, Nikolai. I'm doing this because I want to. Taking care of you isn't burdensome. Not to me." He closed his eyes as your thumb began to trace circles over the slight ridge of his cheekbone. "We're engaged - soon to be married. One of the conditions for that is to be there for the other. In sickness and in health. We may have not exchanged our vows yet, but that doesn't matter. I love you too much to watch you wither away like this. Let me do this for you."

"Thank you." His voice was barely above a whisper.

"Now, drink something and then try to sleep for a bit. I still have some correspondence to take care of, but it won't take too long. I'll come back as soon as I'm done. Send for me in case you need me. " He only nodded in response, too tired to say or do much more.

You pressed a gentle kiss to his forehead before you left his bedroom. Of course, you would have preferred staying with him, even if it was just to watch him sleep. However, you still had a few duties of your own to fulfil and you couldn’t shove them away forever. You couldn’t allow yourself another misstep after lying to your parents about your whereabouts, that was for sure.

After close to two hours spent with measly paperwork and bureaucratic duties, your focus was pried away from the neatly stacked documents on your desk by muffled bickering in the hallway outside your door. You took a quick look at your pocket watch, concluding that it was definitely way too late for your parents to still be out and about.

A bit hesitantly, you abandoned your previous occupation, carefully tiptoeing towards the corridor where the noise had to come from. The scene you had to witness almost gave you a heart attack.

Vasily stood in the middle of the hall, his normally pristine white shirt dirtied with bloodstains. He was hunched over, hovering close to another person that sat on the hard marble floor, their back pressed against the wall. When you noticed that said person was none other than your fiancé - blood smeared all over his hand and shirt, a dazed look on his face - you immediately sprung into action.

“Vasily?” You directed your question at the more alert-looking Lantsov. “By the Saints, what happened?”

“Fuck, if I only knew!” he replied, his stern features relaxing as you approached the two of them. “I was just about to retire to my chambers after a hard day of-”

“Day drinking? You reek of kvas, Vasily,” you muttered under your breath, poignantly ignoring the scowl he gave you.

“As I said, I was about to make my way back to my chambers until I saw this fool lying on the floor with blood everywhere. I thought he was dying! I tried to get him back to his own bedroom, but I can’t possibly carry him back there on my own. Especially not with all that carnage on him.” You rolled your eyes at his theatrics, crouching down next to his brother to assess whatever was going on.

“Nikolai,” you said his name once, your hand finding his face like it had a few hours earlier. His eyes were open, but he seemed to be somewhat loopy. “Love, are you alright?”

“Yes,” he hissed through gritted teeth, his bloody hand clutching the wound on his chest as he tried to sit up straight. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t,” you warned, looking at the quite deep cut that ran across his arm and hand. “Do you think you can walk back to your room? With our help, of course.” Vasily scoffed, but you didn’t let that bother you. “I have to take a look at that. You don’t need another injury that runs the risk of developing an infection.”

He wanted to say yes, but when another jolt of pain shot through his body, you knew that you couldn’t let that happen.

“That’s a no. Vasily, I will need your help to carry him to my bedroom. It’s right around the corner and we won’t risk having any of his wounds reopen.”

Even though the prince gave you a sharp look of dismay, he followed your bidding. Slowly, he bent down to his brother, slinging an arm around his middle to awkwardly force him to stand. Nikolai tried everything in his power to get both of his feet on the ground. However, he could only hold his weight for a few seconds before his knees threatened to give in. Vasily had to stifle a gag when he felt the wet blood dripping on his skin and staining his clothes. If you hadn’t been so worried about the state of your boyfriend you would have probably found his reaction pretty amusing.

“Are you certain that you want this biological hazard to be brought to your chambers?” he asked, turning up his nose when his brother let out a low grunt. “Wouldn’t it be preferable to bring him to a Healer? You know, like a person that is specifically trained to treat wounds like this?”

“No Healer, please,” Nikolai panted, tightening his hold on Vasily’s shoulder.

Both of you knew that he wasn’t too fond of Healers. It was not like he disliked or opposed them, but after seeing what people like them were used for in the Second Army. He had seen what they could fix, but he had also seen what they could destroy.

“It’s fine. I’ll take care of it. As much as I have seen, it’s nothing life-threatening. And even if it were, we all know that I have some experience in treating life-threatening injuries by now.” You flashed Vasily a cocky grin, reminding him of the threat on his life you made should he ever even do so much as think about telling anyone about what he saw in that medical tent.

“If you insist,” he mumbled, taking steady steps towards your room.

Once you finally reached the safety of your chambers, you ordered him to set him down in one of the armchairs next to your vanity - bloodstains be damned. Nikolai groaned as soon as his brother let go of him, his back hitting the braided wicker quite harshly.

“Uhm, I’ll go and…clean myself up now. Especially before mother sees this,” Vasily declared, his gaze staying on his little brother for a bit longer before he turned to leave. “You know where to find me in case you need any help hiding the body. Or whatever issue you might need help with.”

“Thank you, Vasily.” No matter how often this man had infuriated and annoyed you before, you couldn’t help but appreciate his unexpected acts of kindness when you needed them most. Even with his unnecessary commentary. “I think I can handle him for the night. But thank you nonetheless.”

With an acknowledging nod, he exited the room, leaving you alone to deal with a bleeding Nikolai.

“First things first, I’ll need to get you cleaned up, sweetheart,” you explained, hurrying towards the bathroom to grab a wet rag and all the other medical supplies you were sure to need.

Since you couldn’t have been sure whether the bloodstains on his shirt were from the fresh wound on his arm or the stab wound on his chest, you decided that his shirt had to go - it was ruined anyway, so what was the harm?

“Darling, shouldn’t we get married before consummating said marriage?” your fiancé joked, looking down at you as you unbuttoned his shirt.

“Kolya, this is not the time,” you rebutted light-heartedly, pulling the ruined shirt off his shoulders and allowing him to do the rest.

With rather unsteady hands, you tried to clean all of the remaining blood off his torso and arms, seeing that the wound on his hand wasn’t too drastic after all. He didn’t fuss when you tossed the dirty rag, replacing the warm feeling of the wet fabric with the cool sting of the numbing cream. The relief on his face was evident in an instant.

As you put a bandage around his arm and hand, you felt his gaze fixating on you, not leaving your form, not even when you left his side to clean out the piece of cloth and stash away your medical supplies. You couldn’t help but think about his nickname ‘sobachka’. He hated that nickname, but in moments like these, it rang more true than ever. He really was a lost little puppy sometimes.

“Are you alright, Nikolai?” you asked softly, stealing a brief glance at the bandage wrapped around his torso, which he detested with a burning passion.

“I am now. Thank you, my love,” he sighed, letting his gaze waiver towards the clunky bandage on his arm.

“Do you mind telling me what caused you to drag yourself outside of your room with a bleeding wound? How did you even manage that?”

“I was thirsty,” he began, the façade of the confident prince slipping, revealing a meek little boy that had to talk about something he really didn’t want to. “I couldn’t hold onto the glass and it shattered on the floor. And since I didn’t want to have someone else remove it, I tried cleaning it up. Well, let’s just say it didn’t turn out how it was supposed to.”

“And why didn’t you call for me, honey?” you sighed, retrieving one of his spare shirts from your dresser, not wanting him to get even sicker from the cool evening breeze that filtered in through your open windows.

“I didn’t want anyone else to see me like…this.”

“So you opted for stumbling through half of the Grand Palace looking like you had just murdered someone instead?”

“When you put it like that it sounds a lot less logical than I had imagined it.” Now you could see how he and Vasily were related.

“You were really lucky that your brother’s drinking habit forces him to be out this late. I don’t even want to imagine how long you would have stayed outside if he hadn’t found you.”

“We should probably call him again to help with getting me back to my chambers,” he fretted, dreading having to rely on Vasily’s help again.

“Absolutely not. You’re staying here for the night. I’m not letting you out of my eyesight tonight. Not after this stunt,” you declared, grinning at the befuddled expression on his face.

“We’re sleeping in the same bed? Before we’re actually married? Scandalous.”

“Choose your words wisely, or else I might let you sleep on the floor.”

“You would let a poor injured man sleep on the cold, hard floor? That’s pretty heartless.”

“Maybe I should genuinely reconsider marrying you if that’s how you see me. I heard Vasily is still looking for a wife,” you sneered, throwing him the shirt and watching while he put it on.

“Tough luck. You’d have to compete with his love for whiskey and horses first, and I have a sneaking suspicion of which one of you would win that scrabble.” You let out a faint laugh at that, shaking your head as you moved closer to him.

“Alright, enough slander for the day. Let’s get your stubborn ass to bed.” You offered him your arm, supporting him steadily before you cautiously manoeuvred him towards your bed. He was very unsteady on his feet, heavily relying on you to keep him standing, but you were glad that his knees didn’t threaten to buckle this time.

Slowly, you let him sit on the bed, lifting the duvet for him to crawl under. You were very careful when you slid in next to him. Even though you didn’t want to treat him like he might turn to dust as soon as someone touched him, you still had to be cautious to not accidentally hurt him.

A part of your worry subsided when he opened his arms, beckoning you to come closer to him. He may be a bit weaker than what he was used to, but his neediness was still on the same level as it was before. So with a hint of hesitance, you scooted closer to him, allowing him to wrap his arms around you.

His arms were still wrapped around your waist when you woke up the next morning. The sun that filtered through the window bathed both of you in a warm golden light that made wanting to get up even more difficult than you had expected. You couldn’t even begin to describe how much the thought of waking up like this for the rest of your life excited you.

You placed a gentle kiss on the sharp line of his jaw, tracing your arm along his arms before slipping out of his grasp. You had expected him to wake up after feeling you kiss him, however, he remained laying in bed like a wet sack of flour. For a moment you panicked, fearing that something might have been wrong with him. But when you intended to reach for his wrist in an attempt to check his pulse, a sonorant snore left his mouth. Perhaps he really just needed a long good night’s sleep.

He only showed any sort of life when you re-entered the bedroom after you had changed. His snores had seized completely now, replaced with his soft breathy chuckle as he watched you parade around your room.

“Good morning, sleeping beauty,” you laughed, seeing him sit up slowly. You were glad to see that he looked a whole lot better than yesterday. “You slept well, I assume?”

“How could I not? I slept next to you, after all.” His hazel eyes glistened in the light, resembling two pieces of true amber. “I can’t recall the last time I had a dream this pleasant.”

“What did you dream of?”

“I dreamt of a life with you in it.” His honesty made you freeze for a second. He was quite the piece of work. One second he had you fearing for his life, and the next he made your heart skip a beat because of how utterly besotted with you he was.

“I’m already in your life, Kolya. And I’m not intending to leave it anytime soon.” You walked over to your bed to press a faint kiss to his cheek. As a reminder that you would always be here.

“If I get bet-”

“When. When you get better,” you corrected, reaching for his hand to squeeze it reassuringly.

“When I get better, we should look into moving the wedding forward. I don’t think I can wait any longer.”

“So eager to marry me now, aren’t we?” you laughed, letting out a high-pitched squeak when he pulled you towards him. “Nikolai, be careful!”

“Oh, love, I’ve been eager to marry you ever since the day I proposed to you.” He peppered your cheeks with kisses, forcing you to giggle like a young schoolgirl. Every single etiquette lesson you ever had the joy of attending flew right out of the window while your fiancé continued to make you laugh and wiggle erratically.

“I suppose I’ll have to agree to that.”

This was the life you wanted to have.

Nikolai had opted to stay in your chambers for a few days longer. This way, you would be able to get to him quicker, he reasoned. And obviously, you weren’t one to deny him. Staying with you seemingly helped him in his recovery, and it helped you in calming your nerves.

You could the colour return to his cheeks again, the longer he rested and let himself be taken care of. He was still weaker than he had anticipated, but he could do most of the minor self-care tasks himself. He could hold a glass, eat, and even managed to get himself to the bathroom without any sort of support. Even though that felt like a minuscule step to him, you were more than proud of him.

One week after he started sleeping in your room, he made you feel even prouder.

It had been such a long and tiring day of working through the piles of documents and correspondence that you could quite literally feel your body gravitating towards the floor. A quick glimpse at the clock told you that Nikolai was probably already waiting for you to come back. It wasn’t like he hadn’t seen you at all today - you had been with him for breakfast, lunch and dinner - but he still managed to pump up his theatrics and act like you had abandoned him for years. His penchant for overdramatisation didn’t help you with stowing away all your paperwork.

You pulled yourself to your feet, arranging and sorting all the different stacks you had created, before you put them in their respective cabinets surrounding your table. You had been so focused on your work that you didn’t hear the door behind you clicking shut, and someone approaching you very slowly.

A pair of firm arms wrapped around your middle from behind, someone’s head now resting on your shoulder. You were close to whacking whoever it was with the not particularly heavy paperweight, but when a gentle kiss was pressed to the column of your throat, you rethought that intention. Nikolai let out a muffled hum, his body flush with yours as you sunk into his touch. You didn’t begin to process the semantics of his presence until you noticed him sway backwards ever so slightly.

“Wait, Nikolai?” You wiggled yourself out of his grasp, your hands still resting on his in case he needed to steady himself. When you turned, you saw the smug-looking prince glance at you like he had just been caught red-handed in doing something he shouldn’t.

“Were you expecting someone else?” he asked, sounding almost offended.

“How did you get here?” You waved off his question, letting your eyes wander towards the door in an attempt to check for someone who could have helped him get here. The walk from your bedroom to the waiting room wasn’t long, but it was definitely longer than the walk to your bedroom.

“How do you expect me to get here?” He smiled at you, waiting for you to finally understand what this statement implied.

You raised a quizzical brow, not really following what he was trying to tell you.

“Since my horse didn’t fit through your door frame I had to take it upon myself to walk over to you,” he explained, watching the realisation spread over your face.

“You walked over here by yourself?” you beamed, unable to contain your excitement. “Kolya, that’s so good! I’m so proud of you. I knew you’d get better soon. Are you okay? Does anything hurt? Do y-”

He silenced you by pressing his lips onto yours, abruptly ending your ramblings with a smile on his face.

“I’m fine. A bit sore, but fine.” He kissed your forehead once more. “It’s late. I was wondering why you didn’t come to bed. Apparently, my terribly worrisome heart and undying love for you was enough of a reason for my body to eventually listen to me again.”

“Admit it, your main objective is to push our wedding date forward,” you laughed, looking up at him to see him smile sheepishly.

“I see, you have revealed one of my most well-guarded secrets,” Nikolai bemoaned with a fake scowl.

“If that is one of your most well-guarded secrets, I can’t even begin to imagine what the other end of that spectrum loo-" He kissed you again, uncaring of whatever sarcastic comment you might have to offer.

"Y/N!" The door to your office was slammed open. "Nikolai is not in his or your b-" Vasily stopped dead in his tracks, seeing his brother and fiancée look at him amusedly after you had just visibly been making out.

Both of you watched as a shade of deep red shot into his face as he noted the mistake he made by not knocking.

"Forgive me, I'll leave you to it."

Taglist:

Grishaverse fics in general: @yesshewrites1 @dal-light

Nikolai Lantsov: @ell0ra-br3kk3r @kaye-here @maximoffgxrl @lastwandastan

[absoluteaudacitywrites]

Lake Time Loop

A little while ago I had a plan with some other writers to write a fic where Henry gets stuck in a time loop at The Lake and has to hear Alex confess he's in love over and over again, night after night, while he tries to figure out how to get out of the situation. We each wrote a section.

Unfortunately the project fell apart due to one reason or another. The thing is, I'd written my whole section and I really like it! It's very angsty, which is out of the norm for me. So, I thought I'd share it here as a throw-away piece of writing that otherwise wouldn't see the light of day.

Enjoy! (Oh and tw: heavy alcohol consumption, vomiting described in detail, dark/self-harming thoughts from Henry)

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

Henry is losing his mind.

He has to be. He can’t actually be stuck in a time loop. He must be in a little padded room somewhere, imagining all this. Repressing his gay urges has finally sent him spare.

If he is imagining, or even worse, if he’s not, there seems to be no consequences here. In that case, why does he have to keep behaving in a manner befitting the crown? 

Maybe, Henry thinks, just maybe, if he gets drunk enough today he won’t have to comprehend the look in Alex’s eyes at the lake. He’ll simply get too sloshed to understand or care. It’s as good a plan as any, stuck as he is.

“Woah,” Alex says, as Henry pours a generous measure of brandy into his tea directly after breakfast. He’d sent a PPO off to a local town to buy him some supplies while everyone was still in bed. Buying brandy at seven in the morning; only in the USA. God bless America. “You okay there?”

“I feel like I’m getting a cold,” Henry lies, taking a large gulp of his beverage. It burns going down in exactly the way he was hoping it would. “This is a common home remedy in England.”

Alex raises an eyebrow at him, but Henry holds his gaze until he shrugs. “If you say so.”

Henry surreptitiously keeps up the cups of tea until lunch, switching to the sangria which has been made when the others start drinking with the meal. He has more than a buzz going already and he knows he is on his way to his goal of getting sloppy. He distantly wonders if the loop will re-set without him getting a hangover. 

After lunch everyone heads to the lake, a cooler of beers being carried down by Alex and Oscar, and Henry sits on the edge of the short dock with his feet in the water, drinking cold lager with the determination of a man possessed. He doesn’t swim. He can’t really feel his arms and legs very well anymore and he doesn’t want to drown. 

A morbid thought tells him that might be an effective end to his means. He drinks some more beer about it.

“Hey baby,” Alex says, swimming up and tugging on Henry’s leg. “You okay?”

“Yes,” Henry manages to slur. “I’m having a great time.”

Alex stares up at him, looking thoughtful and slightly concerned. “Okay,” he says eventually, and swims back to June and Nora. Henry can see them talking quietly, and catches the moment that June flicks a glance at him over her shoulder. He’s obviously worrying them, but he finds it hard to care - both because he’s very drunk and because he’s sure that all of this won’t matter tomorrow.

When the others get tired of swimming they all head back to the house, and Henry, having lost count of the number of drinks he’s had, finds that it is somewhat difficult to walk in a straight line. Almost immediately Alex is under his arm, gripping him around the waist and helping him walk the short distance to the house, where he dumps him in a chair on the porch. 

“What’s wrong?” he asks, crouching down with his hands on his knees so he’s at Henry’s eye level. 

“Nothing,” Henry manages to mumble. 

“Henry, you’re completely hammered,” Alex says, and he sounds upset. “I know that’s not you.”

“No you don’t,” Henry slurs. “You don’t know me …. know me as well as you think.”

Alex’s eyes widen and he looks quite hurt, but it’s momentary and his face softens into sympathy. “I’m getting you some water,” he says, heading inside, and Henry wants to scream. Getting drunk wasn’t supposed to make Alex even more affectionate towards him. Why isn’t this working?

Slowly, on legs that won’t quite work, Henry stands. He still has half a bottle of brandy stashed in the room he’s sharing with Alex. If he can get that and down it, he hopes he’ll simply black out, removing any likelihood that Alex will confess.

When Henry walks into the house it’s clear he’s being talked about again. This time Nora, June and Alex are clustered around Oscar. They all look up as he enters, and concern is written across all their faces. Henry draws himself up to his full height and ignores them, staggering across the room and using furniture to keep himself upright, his sights set firmly on his goal.

Halfway across the room a strong hand clamps around his arm. “Son, where are you going?” Oscar asks, his expression deeply concerned. Alex is hovering just behind him. 

“‘m gonna lie down,” Henry manages to lie. Oscar gives him a searching look, but then loosens his hold.

“That might be a good idea,” he says. “But we should get some water in you first.”

“Don’t need it,” Henry says, turning towards the bedrooms again. This time Oscar lets him go, and through his haze Henry hears him telling Alex they’ll keep an eye on him during the afternoon. He makes it to the bedroom and quickly finds the brandy, lying down on the bottom bunk and hiding the bottle next to him under the sheets.

Alex comes in the room with a glass of water. “Will you please drink this?” he asks softly, holding out the glass, and Henry’s heart gives a lurch in his chest. Why is he doing this again? He’s obviously hurting Alex, who he has never wanted to hurt even for a moment. He forces himself to sit up and takes the glass, draining the water without looking at Alex and passing it back. 

Then, unable to look at the sad expression on Alex’s face, he turns and curls in on himself, hoping Alex will leave.

It hurts a lot when he does. Henry pulls the brandy out and drinks as much as he can in one breath, sick of the day and Alex’s hurt and this whole fucking loop he is stuck in. He pulls the bottle away from his mouth and pants for a moment, his hand slipping on the bottle and sloshing quite a bit of the brown liquid onto his chest, then finishes off the rest in a second pull.

The warmth of the brandy burns in his chest and Henry feels his stomach begin to roil against all the alcohol in his system, but as the spirit takes effect on him his vision begins to narrow to a point and his thoughts swim and then he feels nothing at all.

“Henry? Son, can you hear me? June, get a bowl. He’s breathing, I cleared his mouth out, he’s going to be okay, Alex. Mierda, why would he do this? Has he been under any sort of stress?”

Henry lets out a soft, involuntary groan. His face is sticky, especially around his mouth, and all he can taste is bile.

“Henry?! Henry, can you hear me?” It’s Alex’s voice, sounding strained and panicked. He feels hands on him, and then there’s some shuffling and they’re removed.

“Mijo, I know you’re worried, but you’re not helping. Just leave him for a moment, will you? Nora, can you -”

Henry hears Alex swearing and Nora cajoling and then there’s the sound of a door closing and their voices become more distant. He wants to stop them, to tell Alex to come back, and that he’s sorry and he knows he fucked up, but he can’t move. He tries to open his eyes but all his eyelids do is flutter. He groans again and feels the sensation of vomit surging up his throat.

Someone, Oscar he supposes, holds his head over the edge of the bed as he expunges the contents of his stomach. He vomits so hard it comes out his nose too, and by the time he finishes he’s letting out cracked sobs and his face is wet with sweat and tears. Oscar’s strong hands push him back onto the mattress and he feels a towel being wiped over his face. Slowly, he manages to squint his eyes open, and he finds Alex’s father on his knees next to the bottom bunk, looking at him with concern written across his features.

“Do you know where you are, Henry?” he asks.

“Lake,” Henry manages hoarsely.

“That’s right. What day is it?”

“S-Saturday?”

“Okay,” Oscar says. He watches Henry for a moment, a frown settling on his face. “I’m not going to ask why you purposely tried to drink yourself into a blackout,” he says in a low voice. “But I can tell you I am not impressed.” He sighs, looking Henry over. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but my son is in love with you, and as his father I am now invested in making sure he’s not with someone who is going to make these kinds of selfish, self-destructive decisions.”

Henry shuts his eyes. Oscar keeps talking, but he doesn’t hear him. His plan has failed. He got drunk enough. He made himself sick. 

But he still had to hear that Alex loves him.