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themerriweathermage · 9 months ago

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A Wolf in Sheep's Clothing

Summary: Sunny has noticed Jade's habits with one of his Captains as of late, and decides to inform Quinn about it. Neither one of them expects what happens next.

Pairing(s): Quinn X Original Male Character, Ryder X Jade

Warnings: Graphic Descriptions of Violence, Major Character Death, NSFW/18+ Content

Divider Credit: firefly-graphics

It wasn’t often that Quinn found Sunny at the balcony railing, overseeing the Clippers training when Quinn knew he preferred to be in the field, training right alongside them. His expression was about as calming to look at as the rolling fields of red poppies, but there was a worry line across Sunny’s forehead, and his Regent’s eyes were firmly fixed on one of his Captains.

“Why does your expression tell me there’s trouble brewing in paradise?” Quinn asked. Sunny didn’t immediately snap to attention, but Quinn is willing to let that slide. His Regent is his sword arm, his right hand; he’s earned the leeway that Quinn gives him. For a moment, Sunny doesn’t acknowledge him before he finally straightens from his position at the railing.

“Baron.” Quinn raised an eyebrow slightly, cocking his head to the side, as if to press his question. “Nothing more than an oddity, I hope.”

“Problem with one of your men?” Quinn asked.

“I’m not entirely sure.” Sunny answered measuredly, and then Quinn knew he was dancing a line. He was avoiding meeting Quinn’s eyes, which tended to mean that there was an issue that was one way or another directly related to the baron.

“I trust you. I trust it isn’t misplaced.” Quinn murmured coolly.

“Do you trust Jade?” Sunny asked then, meeting his eyes. “Because I’ve caught her going to one of my captains’ quarters late at night, and honest to my oath as Regent, I don’t know why.” Quinn wrinkled his nose, showing teeth-- and distaste-- at Sunny’s statement.

“You would insinuate that my fiance is having a dalliance with a Clipper?” There was no mistaking the anger in Quinn’s undertone.

“I didn’t say there was a dalliance, Baron.” Sunny started.

“End it, or I’ll end it myself!” Quinn snapped.

“Yes, Baron.” There would be no reasoning with him, at this point, and at that Sunny left him, dismissed from his own musings. There was little hope that whatever was going on between one of his most trusted captains and Jade wasn’t an affair, but Sunny was more prepared to give the man a chance than Quinn ever would be.

Jasper raised an eyebrow when he opened the door to a knock and found Sunny standing there. “I hope I’m not interrupting.”

His fellow soldier barked out a sharp laugh and gestured Sunny inside, folding himself back down to the floor, settling in with a deep sigh, sharpening his blades with a practiced ease. And Sunny was reminded, personally, that Jasper was a capable soldier, that he was Clipper who had trained under Nathaniel Moon, and been traded to Quinn by the Widow's late and now deceased husband. He came in one form-- small-- and didn’t arm himself with the standard sword or katana that the others preferred, but rather a tanto blade and an array of small daggers. And Sunny had come unarmed. Not that he doubted his prowess to kill anyone without a weapon.

“So what brings the Regent to my door?” Jasper teased.

“The Baron.” Sunny answered honestly, and watched all the fun and teasing drain right off Jasper’s face.

“Oh.” Jasper wrinkled his nose. “Baron’s orders bring you to my door. Why? What did I do?”

“I’ve informed Quinn about your habits with Jade, and he’s ordered me to end it or he will himself. Nicely put, stop on my orders, or be beheaded by his hand.” Sunny replied. Jasper had faltered on sharpening his blade, staring up at Sunny in shock.

“The Baron thinks I’m having a dalliance with his fiance? You think I’m having an affair with Jade?!” The shock was palpable, if Jasper’s expression alone didn’t sell it first.

“Do you have any other reasons to explain why she comes to your quarters late at night, and tries to come and go unseen?” Jasper huffed out a breath, putting his blades away, and folding himself into a sitting position, spearing Sunny with a glance.

“He’s not gonna like it.” Jasper started. “But you can put his mind to rest about me having an affair with Jade. She’s my sister.” Sunny blinked. He’d never seen them side by side enough to make that comparison, but they did bear some similar features, yes. “And she comes to my quarters as of late, to swoon about Ryder, and to convince me that he would make a better baron.”

“She’s...” Sunny started, pausing. “She’s planning a coup?”

“Oh no, not at all.” Jasper remarked sarcastically. “She totally doesn’t have any plans to actually marry Quinn so she’ll be the Baroness and then take a page out of the late Widow’s book and put the man six feet under.”

“Tell him.” Sunny urged. Jasper scoffed.

“You think he’ll believe me over my sister’s pretty face?” Jasper asked. “Absurd, the both of you.”

“Persuade him then.” Jasper gave him a look.

“The only skills of persuasion I have are the same skills that Jade would employ, and last I heard, Baron Quinn has a rule against wicking his Clippers. To use a tool heedlessly is to blunt it, or some similar phrase.”

“I can’t tell you whether or not he would ignore that if you offered it freely.” Sunny replied.

“The problem about ending the dalliance with Jade, is that she’ll get suspicious about whose pockets I’m in. But it will end one way or another, when somebody dies. The question is, who will it be-- me, her, or Quinn?”

“You would consider Ryder to be a better baron?” Sunny’s eyebrows nearly hit his hairline.

“Oh please, that boy still puts his boots on the wrong feet.” Jasper threw Sunny an insulted look. “My loyalty is my baron. My oath is to my baron. My sister knows this is the law of the Badlands.” Sunny knew Jasper was looking for him to tell Quinn and have the matter handled in an impersonal manner that only Sunny could deliver. But Sunny couldn’t, and wouldn’t, offer Quinn what Jasper was implying he could, and would.

“I expect to see you in the morning in Quinn’s office.” Sunny stood at that, leaving and hearing Jasper curse his name under his breath as he did.

But Sunny wasn’t there in the morning, and Quinn looked especially displeased to see him. Jasper laid his blade down neatly on Quinn’s desk, hilt at Quinn’s hand. To surrender the blade would mean to surrender his rank, but Quinn was hardly pleased by the action. He met eyes with the captain standing at attention in front of his desk and unsheathed the blade, standing.

“Tell me, Captain, how does my sweet Jade taste?” Jasper was unmoved by the blade at his throat as Quinn circled him, but the question made him grimace, steel spilling crimson, warm and wet. It was such a double edged sword to keep his blades as sharp as he did, when the wrong touch could spill blood.

“I have no dalliance with your fiance, Baron.”

“And yet you offer your blades to me, surrendering your rank with the knowledge that I would remove you of it. Do you think you’re clever, Captain?” Quinn asked, a snarl on his breath.

“No, Baron.” Jasper answered, watching Quinn run his tongue over the flat of the blade. It was a dicey move, considering the sharpness of the blade, but he pulled it well, and there was a reason that the Badlands knew Quinn as the Red Baron, the Crazy Armadillo himself, that there manic to Quinn when he wanted there to be manic. A show of bravado with the balls of steel and swordsmanship to back it up.

He had manic Quinn now, and it would be harder to reason with him, with blood on his breath and steel in his hand.

“On your knees.” Quinn ordered, and Jasper obediently knelt, though never once breaking his gaze on Quinn, and was rewarded for it by a sword at his throat, the point pressing in, but never breaking skin. “Do you have anything to tell me before I separate your head from your miserable body?”

Jasper only shrugged slightly. “Would you listen to me if I did?” He asked, and watched Quinn’s eyebrow quirk up as if to ask if he really had the audacity to do this. “Jade is my sister, Baron. I have no dalliance with her. I’d soon as gouge out my own eyes than see or interact with her in such a manner.” That seemed to jar Quinn out of his manic behavior, and he reared back with an unreadable look, blade cutting a thin line up Jasper’s neck and jaw.

“Jade.”

“And Jasper. Yes, our parents were terribly creative.” Jasper replied dryly. He seemed unmoved by the fact of the cut across his face, and unbothered by the blood currently seeping into his uniform and Quinn was internally impressed. Staring into the face of impending death and not flinching were traits of a good Regent, but Quinn was satisfied with the way Sunny ran his empire. “Not that it matters.”

“Why does your sister keep in your quarters at such late hours of the night?” Jasper started to say something-- opened his mouth and shut it again-- eyes meeting Quinn’s.

“Permission to speak freely, Baron? Permission to speak without you thinking that I’m... trying to save my own skin?” Jasper asked.

“Speak.” Quinn granted him that flatly.

“You know Sunny trusts me. You know my men trust me. That I haven’t once given either one of them, or you, a reason to doubt me or my ability as a Captain. That this, were there an offense here, would be my first offense.” Quinn pursed his lips and flicked the blade to the side slightly, a gesture for Jasper to continue. “I tell you, in confidence, as a Captain to his Baron, Jade is planning to kill you.” The room was deathly quiet after that and then the blade clattered to the floor where Quinn threw it.

“Run yourself through for the shit you just spit at me.” Quinn hissed, his eyes dark. Jasper frowned, and grumbled, picking up the blade.

“I told Sunny you wouldn’t believe me. And why would you? She’s pretty, and sex has a way of influencing one’s judgment.” Jasper said flatly, cleaning his blade on his sleeve, and then removing the Clipper’s vest, so that the blade wouldn’t have to cut through the leather. Quinn sat back against the desk, his face stone.

Jasper was military through and through. He folded his vest neatly and discarded his weapons’ belt, setting each dagger neatly on the floor. Then came his shirt, bloodstained, revealing his chest and back covered in Clipper tattoos, kills for Quinn, kills for his baron before Quinn. He was trained under Silver Moon, one of his last Colts, which made him particularly valuable in the Badlands. Under Quinn, and under Sunny’s guidance, he’d quickly become one of Quinn’s most lethal, a dangerous weapon in his arsenal, and now he sat, obedient to the end, readying his own blade to kill himself.

“Bring me proof.” Jasper’s head snapped up.

“Baron?”

“Bring me proof,” Quinn repeated, “and don’t make me repeat myself again. Get your things and get out.”

“Yes, Baron.” Jasper gathered his weapons, his shirt and vest, and scurried out the door rather quickly.

It was unusual for Quinn to ask for her to join him in his office, but here Lydia was, and Quinn seemed to be in a mood, hands folded behind his back neatly as he studied a map on the wall of his office.

“Quinn?”

“You hear things I don’t.” Quinn started, but he never turned around, not until, “What do you hear about Jade?” Lydia raised her eyebrows. Sure, he came to her for counsel about the barony, yes, but this? This matter of his doting and lust who he so blatantly refused to hear slander about? Why now? Why now when Jade was weeks away from becoming his new Baroness?

“Why me?” Lydia asked.

“You think about this objectively.” Quinn replied, his answer clipped. Ah, he couldn’t fathom thinking about it with the head that was on his shoulders, apparently.

“She’s popular with the Cogs because she was one of them. At least, with the ones who aren’t close to her anyways.” If Quinn noticed the undertone in her voice, he didn’t comment on it and he normally would have, so Lydia was inclined to think the line of questioning came from a place of actual genuine concern. She continued, “She’s close with Ryder.” Something seemed to tweak in Quinn’s expression.

“How close?”

“They grew up together, so...” A deflection and Quinn seemed to know it.

“How close, Lydia?” She seemed to consider her own neck for a moment before answering.

“Do you want the truth or a noble lie?” Lydia asked. “And would you even believe me without thinking I’m just jealous?”

“I want you to tell me why her brother, a Captain with considerable respect and sway among my Clippers, told me this morning that Jade is plotting to kill me.” Quinn replied. Lydia took in a deep breath and let it out slowly.

“Ryder and Jade are sleeping together. And have been. For a while.” Lydia replied. “Like a, before you two were a thing, a while.” Quinn didn’t look amused.

“And the plot to kill me, did you hear about that too?” He asked.

“No. You know me, Quinn. Why would I keep that from you?” Still, she shivered under his gaze. He wasn’t a man she wished to antagonize, and yet she knew telling him the truth had done exactly that. He didn’t verbally reply, just growled and showed his teeth for half a second, before dismissing her with a snarl.

“Quinn.” It was Jade this time, and he’d been in his office all day, waiting for results, waiting for Jasper to come back with proof, drinking and sulking. “Come to bed, Quinn.” Quinn glowered in her direction, and his mouth started running without him entirely thinking it through.

“You want to tell me why your brother thinks you’re plotting to kill me?”

“Jasper?” Jade laughed. “You’re kidding, right?” But the look on Quinn’s face indicated anything but. “You know, he’s really done a good job making himself extremely valuable to you, but his loyalties are elsewhere.”

“I’m listening.”

“Sure, he was traded here by the Widow’s late husband when he was baron, but he was always loyal to her. He’s trained under her.”

“I thought Nathaniel Moon trained him.”

“Sure, but not in the style he’s most adept in.” Jade replied. “You shouldn’t trust him; he’s a lying snake.” Quinn arched his eyebrow slightly.

“I’m beginning to think he is not the only one.” Quinn murmured. “Goodnight, Jade.”

“Come to bed.” She pleaded softly.

“Good. Night.” Quinn made sure each word was clearly enunciated and his expression indicated that he didn’t want to be fucked with, or fucked in this case.

“Well,” Jasper stepped out of the shadows, “Sounds like you had a day.” Quinn almost jumped, hand instinctively going for his sword.

“How long have you been there?”

“Mm. Long enough.” Jasper evaded the question, but for once Quinn could see more than neutrality in his expression, something almost like hurt, before it vanished as quick as it had come. “I’ll be honest; I never expected you to confront her about it.”

“And just let the threat remain?” Quinn asked. “You’re a capable killer; why would I ignore the obvious?”

“I brought you proof.” Jasper replied, opening his satchel and emptying it on Quinn’s desk. “Every scrap of correspondence I could find. Correspondence between Ryder and the Widow, between the Widow and Jade, between the Widow and Zepyhr,” Quinn blinked. Why was Jacobee’s Regent involved in this? “Between Zepyhr and Ryder, and between Ryder and Jade.”

“Wha... how?” Quinn asked, stunned. The task had been a fool’s errand. Go get proof and likely die trying. So, why and how had he completed it in a day with no indication that he’d encountered any obstacles trying to get it.

“Jade thinks, or thought rather-- until you revealed that one tiny little detail-- that she had me in the palm of her hand. That I, on the military side of the equation, would follow in the coup.”

“She was conspiring with you.”

“She was conspiring.” Jasper replied.

“Maybe I should take your head.”

“My loyalty is to my baron. My oath is to my baron. My sister knows that this is the law of the Badlands, and persisted regardless.”

“She thought you would follow.” Quinn realized. “What’s that saying? That blood is thicker than water?”

“The blood of the covenant is thicker than the water of the womb, actually.” Jasper replied. “I took my oath in blood. I drowned it in blood, and it will be unwritten in blood, if I know anything about these Badlands.”

“You omitted that you were trained under the Widow.” Quinn didn’t even try to sort through the mess on his desk, just leaning back on it.��

“I’m small.” Quinn waited. “Moon trained me, yeah, but it didn’t flow. It wasn’t graceful. It was awkward and I was clumsy. I couldn’t manage a sword like the others could. I saw her fight and everything clicked after that. So yeah, the Widow trained me. I fail to see what that has to do with anything.”

“You said you’re loyal to your baron, but am I your baron?” Quinn asked.

“Do you need proof?” Jasper tilted his head to the side slightly, trying to gauge Quinn.

“What kind of proof could you possibly give--” Quinn started, and then his breath hitched slightly, because Jasper had knelt to the floor in front of him, and his next words made Quinn’s mouth go dry.

“I exist to serve your interests, Baron.” A line he’d probably heard Sunny say dozens of times, but then, “All your interests, Baron.” And Quinn’s mind blanked for half a second. He wasn’t a nice baron, and he knew he wasn’t a nice baron, and yet here Jasper was offering him something he wouldn’t take with his Clippers. There was a line he drew at needlessly blunting his tools, and his Clippers were just another tool used to keep his barony safe and in line, but there was this heady temptation at his feet, offering freely.

He was close enough that Quinn could feel the heat of his mouth through his shirt, chin resting just above his belt. “Baron.” Jasper breathed quietly, the rush of hot air meeting skin and Quinn swallowed the moan, savoring in the rush of lust that went straight to his cock. Jasper pressed his weight against Quinn, his throat resting in just the right place that when he rumbled out a noise, it sent shivers all over Quinn.

“Did the Widow teach you this too?” Quinn asked, on his last coherent thought before he took what was being offered.

“I don’t think this is the kind of thing that other people can teach.” Jasper replied, meeting Quinn’s gaze, dragging his mouth lower, running his tongue the length of Quinn’s shaft, and lips closing around the head, despite the fabric separating them. Quinn twitched, fingers gripping into the desk behind him. The touch was damn near electric, and Quinn knew he was already inebriated enough, but this he wanted more of. Jasper didn’t resist when Quinn knotted his fingers in his hair and yanked him backwards; in fact, he almost seemed to smile but that was a cocky smile and Quinn aimed to make it disappear, unfastening his pants and wetting his fingers with saliva, stroking himself until he was damn near dripping precum.

“You want your Baron’s cock, Captain?” Quinn asked, mocking. Jasper didn’t initially answer and Quinn cupped his chin bruisingly, bringing his eyes up. “Don’t make me repeat myself.” Jasper smirked, his tongue flicking out to catch the dribble of precum running down Quinn’s shaft, running his tongue just under the head of his cock. The rational thought was gone then, when Quinn’s eyes fluttered for half a second and he had to brace himself against the desk, giving Jasper free rein. And in that half a second, Jasper muddied the borders of that fine line Quinn had always followed, taking him willingly. First, a taste, but then working himself to take all of Quinn, nose buried in the thatch of dark curls at the base of Quinn’s cock.

“Gods.” Quinn swore under his breath at the sight, his cock twitching within the confines of Jasper’s mouth. This was a ploy, this was a ploy, this was a... it couldn’t be a ploy. This was a distasteful duty for many, dolls and wives alike, and Jade had never initiated for him like this, and Quinn didn’t press it when he could be satisfied in other manners. No, this couldn’t be a ploy; this was... this was Jasper’s hand wrapping around the back of his thigh and squeezing, imploring Quinn to react, imploring Quinn to use him... This was genuine. Jasper whined quietly, head bobbing in practiced movements as he fucked his mouth with Quinn’s cock, needing more.

“Baron, please.” Jasper begged when he drew away, his breath ragged and his eyes watering. Mouth open, sat back on his heels, waiting for Quinn to follow, and follow he did, hand cupping Jasper’s chin, rutting himself into Jasper’s wanting mouth. It was a rush that Quinn had never dared to take; he owned Jasper’s loyalty and his service as a Clipper, his oath, his blades, his prowess, his very body, but not like this. Never like this... until now. Quinn growled, white hot pleasure racing through him, feeling everything-- the firm pressure of Jasper’s hand digging into the back of his thigh, the touch of his tongue, the wet heat of his mouth, and his hand buried in his own Captain’s hair as he crossed that line-- all at once.

“I’m--” Quinn growled again, and didn’t expect Jasper to meet him, his free hand knotting in Quinn’s shirt, yanking him forward eagerly, damn near choking, and staying there until Quinn was slack and satisfied before finally drawing away, sitting back on his heels.

Quinn was a cruel man, yes; his Clippers got to see all of him like that on vicious display. But he was a lover too, and not unpassionate about his affairs. He smoothed the blade of his hand down the side of Jasper’s head, fingers cupping his cheek when the creak of the floorboards beneath a foot alerted them both and their heads both snapped to attention to the sight of Jade standing there, her nose wrinkled in disgust.

“Oh, you little bitch!” She snarled, turning on her heel and fleeing down the hallway with a cry to Ryder on her lips.

“Clip her! Clip them both!” Quinn snarled. He was not overly fond of being interrupted, and nor was he fool enough to ignore the evidence that Jasper had brought. Jasper didn’t immediately move and Quinn was giving him an incredulous look. “Just because...” Quinn started, but Jasper finally stood, gesturing for Quinn to follow with the nod of his head, opening the balcony doors and picking a crossbow. Quinn understood then; he understood that his Captain’s mind had anticipated that Jade would walk in on them, that she would make the call to flee the barony, her and Ryder both. Jasper notched the arrow, and took careful aim out over the courtyard as a pair of hoofbeats sounded in the night. And then Quinn heard him chuckle, the snapback recoiling against his shoulder and the resounding thud as the bolt made contact with enough force to knock the rider of their horse.

“Jade!” If Ryder were smarter, if he were not blinded by his love for her, he would have left her behind. But Quinn knew he wouldn’t, and Jasper was already scaling down the balcony railing, blade out, heady with battle lust, and stalking towards the horse and rider who had turned back. He passed Jade, bleeding out on the ground and ignored her cries, grabbing the reins of the barreling horse and bringing Ryder to an abrupt stop.

When Ryder picked himself up off the ground, he came at Jasper swinging wildly, blinded by anger. Quinn watched it all play out, watched Ryder throw himself at Jasper again and again and again, never once stopping to think about his opponent or their moves. In that way, Quinn supposed that Ryder was his son, stubborn and persistent with a breathtaking temper to match. But the years of battle and the years of being the baron had hardened Quinn; Ryder didn’t have that luxury or the discipline to obtain said luxury. So he was throwing himself fruitlessly at an opponent now, and Jasper was wise enough to let Ryder do it, and tire himself out.

When Ryder stumbled and threw his punch, Jasper caught it, twisting his arm out to the side and at minimum dislocating his shoulder, if not breaking it, in one fluid movement.

“She’s your sister!” Jasper was unmoved. “I could have been ten times the baron my father was!” Jasper only cocked his head to the side. “You could have been Regent!” Ryder threw another punch with his non-dominant hand and this time Jasper moved, arm wrapped snugly around Ryder’s throat, facing the Fort, facing the balcony where Quinn was standing, his expression both curious and amused.

“I took an oath to my baron in blood, in sweat, in tears,” Jasper’s voice lilted for half a second, “in more ways than one.” His grip tightened and Ryder dug his fingers into Jasper’s arm, choking out a sound, but the Captain’s grip never loosened, and Ryder didn’t have the prowess to fight back and wasn’t given the option to. His body slumped when Jasper snapped his neck, and Jade’s scream echoed in the courtyard at seeing him there, lifeless.

“You--!” Jade snarled, trying to crawl towards Ryder when Jasper brought his boot down on her wrist, effectively stopping her in her tracks, rolling her over to face him with little effort. He brought his blade to her throat and couldn’t help but to note that she looked furious for someone in her position. The crossbow bolt had torn right through her and she had landed hard from her horse bucking her off. Rage and adrenaline were the only things keeping her alive, and the baron’s wrath was coming for her. “You were supposed to help us, me, him! To be-- ” Jasper tilted his head to the side, his voice perfectly blank.

“To be the glue that held the coup together?”

“It wasn’t a coup!” Jade spit. “I would be Baroness, and we wouldn’t have to follow these barbaric rules!” Jasper actually snorted. “What?”

“Do you think Ryder would have actually let you get away with your noble heart? You may have had his heart and his head, but deep down he was his father’s son.”

“He would have made a better baron than Quinn!” Jade snapped, and Jasper’s blade pressed into the hollow of her throat, drawing blood. “At least Ryder had the capability to love someone. Do you think you’ll get that with Quinn?” Jasper only arched an eyebrow, bringing his sword back.

“I don’t care one or another if I do. I took an oath to him, made it in blood, drowned it in blood, as red and as plentiful as the poppies beyond the wall of the Fort. What makes you think I would turn my back on him now?”

“We’re family!” Jasper let the blade fly, making an impact and sending blood flying with one fell swoop.

“Welcome to the Badlands, sister.”

#A Wolf in Sheep's Clothing #Into the Badlands fanfic #Baron Quinn X OMC #canon typical violence #tw: blood #tw: violence #character death #cw: nsfw/18+

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realitybitesyouknowit · 1 year ago

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A five year old Harry is taken from Privet drive. He is placed in the care of three strange sisters, witches of a powerful family, with many secrets of their own. Harry's arrival at Hogwarts brings a powerful gray Harry. warn slash/mprg, Albus bashing

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wangxianficfinder · 26 days ago

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In the mood for...

Nov 6th

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1. Hello! Thank you everyone and the admins for doing the great work 🥰

A - Itmf for fics where Wei Wuxian (or someone else) develops a talisman/curse or somehing that shows people's bio relations (maybe to prove he is not a Jiang/to prove the Jins evil/any other reason), and the use of such thing causes secrets and misdeeds of others to turn up. Any kind of chaotic or angsty energy and everyone in shock and trying to manage the damage of their secrets aired out for the audience.

I have no preference over whether Wei Ying turns out to a Wen/actually Jiang/anything else, but it would be great if he finds out he is not all alone in the world in means of blood and is accepted into someone's loving arms. The Lan family angst is cool, but please no Lan Xichen or Lan Zhan's bashing (But everyone else can have a field day)

B - As an alternative, just a modern AU with Wei Ying doing some kind of DNA testing to prove his relations and the concequences/reactions of others is also acceptable.

P.S. I have recently read All Things Belong by kuroi_atropos, amazing work, so i wanted to read something else in this field. Definitely recommend! @shellennium

1A)

❤️ And Time Is But a Paper Moon by sami (M, 138k, WangXian, XiChengQing, Time Travel, Fix-It, Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Healing, Mental Health Issues, PTSD, Hurt/Comfort, Depression, BAMF WWX, BAMF JC, BAMF LWJ, BAMF JYL, Getting Together) it occurs in chapter 12. my suggestion for 1a fills the first half of the request, WWX doesn't discover any relatives though

Debts of a Child Part 2 by Hauntcats (M, 111k, WangXian, YZY Bashing, Not Jiang Family Friendly, Angst and Feels, lots of anger, JC Bashing, not Jiang friendly, Angst with a Happy Ending, Content warning for icky spiders in later chapters., hurt no comfort for Jiang siblings.)

Cuckold by ramber (M, <1k, Madam Jin/OMC)

Sunset, Sunrise by Ariana Deralte (ArianaDeralte) (T, 57k, WWX & WRH, WangXian, WIP, Time Travel Fix-It, Crack, Temporary Character Death, sorry I killed a-Yuan for a few paragraphs before the time travel, WWX is a Wen, Genius WWX, WRH gets to rewatch the series as a treat, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, in this house we acknowledge that all the sects have flaws, Implied/Referenced Sexual Assault, WWX Has ADHD, Bad Parents JFM & YZY, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Autistic LWJ) (link in 8C)

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2. hello! thank you for all the work you do. itmf: wangxian not returning to cloud recesses post-canon and them having a strained relationship with the lans that wwx IS NOT guilty about. no CQL please. bonus if sizhui leaves with them but not required

tails and scales series by notsofluffyunicorn (E, 37k, WangXian, Fluff and Angst, Dragon LWJ, Fox WWX, LWJ Has Feelings, LWJ Needs a Hug, LWJ Leaves the Gusu Lan Sect, Hair Brushing, tail brushing, No World Building, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Autistic LWJ, Selectively Mute LWJ, because of anxiety, Healthy Communication, Soft WangXian, Married WangXian, Smut, A/B/O, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Alpha LWJ, Omega WWX,Anal Sex, Anal Fingering, Blow Jobs, tail pulling, Rough Sex, LWJ Has a Biting Kink, LWJ & WWX Have a Breeding Kink, Dirty Talk, Non-Traditional A/B/O Dynamics, Domestic Fluff, Mpreg, Pregnant WWX, Chronic Pain, Protective LWJ, Protective WWX, Canon Divergence, Gusu Lan Sect Bashing, slight LXC bashing, But that will get better in future stories, non-graphic birth, Introspection, Rimming, POV LWJ, POV WWX, No Golden Core Transfer, No Wen remnants, WangXian Are LSZ's Parents, WangXian Get a Happy Ending, LWJ's 33 Lashes Punishment, No Thirteen Years of WWX's Death, WWX in WWX's Body, Parents WangXian, Shedding season) but it's an au so it doesn't exactly fit. They leave though and live their best lives

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3. itmf fics where some combination of lwj-wwx-jc one killing the other, accidentally or otherwise.

ok if it includes mxy resurrecting wwx, or wwx raising lwj-jc as a corpse à la wen ning, but I’m not looking for this as a jumping off point for time travel or that kind of fix it. not bashing, I just want them to feel their feelings. bonus if jyl is alive in especially in a jc-wwx scenario.

💖 Regrets by antebunny (G, 37k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Miscommunication, Misunderstandings, Time Travel, Fix-It, Temporary Character Death, Angst, Explicit Descriptions of Love, and other squishy feelings, Angst with a Happy Ending) it's cql canon and uh LWJ accidentally stabs WWX in nightless city

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4. Hi! I have an ITMF! Fics where WWX is treated poorly or cruelly in the Cloud Recesses after marrying LWJ, can be with him knowing or not (or even participating), post canon or not, and him (and maybe LSZ) being rescued by one of the Jiangs or Jin Ling (or even someone else). I don't mind AUs as long as it's not modern setting ones! Bonus points if it has Jiang Yanli in it :) Thanks!! @jiangclaritybell

Concord by Deastar (T, 41k, WangXian, Arranged Marriage, Gusu Lan Sect Rules, Depression, Canon Divergence, Angst with a Happy Ending) it covers some of what you seek. Be prepared it's very angsty.

To Bring You Back Within My Reach by ablaiseofglory (M, 22k, WIP, WangXian, Arranged Marriage, Angst with a Happy Ending, No dubious consent, Adopted Children, Kid Fic, A/B/O Dynamics, omega wwx, Alpha LWJ, Misunderstandings) to bring you back within my reach by ablaiseofglory. It's a WIP but it recently updated

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5. in the mood for a fic where wangxian are VERY freak4freak or codependent… equally unhealthily obsessed w each other <3 @xinilia

truly a love story for the ages by sweetlolixo (E, 4k, WangXian, Modern AU, Omegaverse, Dark LWJ, Dark WWX, Alpha LWJ, Omega WWX, Dark!Wangxian, Power Couple, slight daddy kink, Crack, Pregnant WWX) but I'm not sure if the vibe truly fits, they are freak4freak

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6. Hiii... for the next itmf post, please recommend some lengthy time travel fics. Please can it be newer fics (2023 / 2024) and fully completed fics. Wangxian pairing, of course. Thank you 😊 🙏

there are multiple in the Same Moon Shines series by sami

Lynchpin by ShanaStoryteller (Not Rated, 103k, WangXian, JC & WWX, Time Travel, Fix-It)

🔒 Here With Me by iamwish (T, 58k, WangXian, Time Travel Fix-It, wwx turns this into a no war!au, Canon-Typical Violence, Period-Typical Homophobia, Bad Parent YZY, POV WWX, POV LWJ, POV JC, Somebody Lives/Not Everyone Dies, WWX Has PTSD, and also depression sometimes, Unreliable Narrator, (all of them))

A Life Without Regrets by naqaashi (M, 163k, WangXian, JFM & WWX, JC & WWX, WRH & WWX, LXC & LWJ, LQR & LWJ, LWJ & NHS, Canon Divergence, Time Travel Fix-It, Angst and Humor, Angst with a Happy Ending, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Crack Treated Seriously, musical cultivation, Slow Burn, Pining, Rogue Cultivator WWX, Murder Husbands, PTSD, BAMF WWX, Demonic Cultivation, POV WWX, Cultivation Sect Politics, Worldbuilding, No Yīn Iron, Genius WWX, Inventor WWX, Artist WWX, Musician WWX, Night Hunts, Fate & Destiny, Bad Parent JFM & YZY, Golden Core, Cultivation Theory, Sentient Burial Mounds, Father-Son Relationship, Dysfunctional Family, Grief/Mourning, Parent-Child Relationship, Angry WWX, Pining WWX, WWX is Not Okay, No Golden Core Transfer, BAMF LWJ, Pining LWJ, POV LWJ, Angry LWJ, One-Braincell Wangxian, Love Confessions, Idiots in Love)

We’ll Build A Dynasty (one the heavens can’t shake) by One_eyed_God (T, 66k, WangXian, WWX & WQ, WWX & WN, WWX & JYL, canon typical Jiang family dynamics, BAMF WWX, Canon JC Characteristics, POV Outsider, Hurt/Comfort, Pre-Relationship, WWX is a Wen, Sect Leader WWX, Genius WWX, The Casual Intimacy of Hand-Holding, A Love Letter to WWX, Not JC Friendly, Time Travel Fix-It)

🔒Til Death Do Us Part by Thyone14 (Not Rated, 73k, WangXian, Time Travel, Fix-It of Sorts, Fluff and Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Implied/Referenced Character Death, WWX Needs a Hug, Protective LWJ, Soft WangXian, POV LWJ, POV Alternating, No Smut, POV WWX)

The Stranger Inside My Son by Mademoiselle_A (T, 73k, WangXian, Time Travel Fix-It, But from an outsider's POV, JC is So Done, JFM's A+ parenting, YZY's A+ Parenting, Both are not great but this is not a bashing fic, JC-centric, But from JFM's POV lol, POV Outsider) is focused on Jiang Cheng but Wangxian do get together in it.

🔒if you can’t beat them, recruit them by moeblobmegane (T, 228k, Wangxian, NHS & WWX, WWX & WQ, Time Travel Fix-It, Conspiracy, Spies & Secret Agents, Team as Family, Found Family, Burial Mounds, Temporary Character Death, Canon-Typical Violence, Pining, Morally Ambiguous Character, Rumors, Politics, Developing Friendships, Good Uncle LQR, Demonic Cultivation, YilingWei Sect)

💖 The Echoes of that News Ring Loud by Scarlet_Gryphon (T, 111k, NHS & NMJ, 3zun, sangning, wangxian, time travel, fix-it, nie wwx, happy ending)

Moments of Revelation by meyari (T, 133k, ChengSang, WangXian, XiYao, POV JC, Canon Divergence, Temporary Character Death, Character Death, not anyone we care about, Time Travel Fix-It, Self-Sacrifice, Torture, Chronic Pain, Chronic anxiety, Grief/Mourning, PTSD, Chronic Mental Health Issues, Assassination, renamed MY, Families of Choice, Unreliable Narrator(s), Demonic Possession) Plus others by the same author

A Narrow Bridge by FrameofMind, Jo Lasalle (Jo_Lasalle) (E, 700k, WangXian, Time Travel Fix-It, Canon Divergence, Slow Burn, Getting Together, First Time, Pining while fucking, Burial Mounds Settlement Days, Angst with a Happy Ending, CQL Verse, almost everybody lives/almost nobody dies, epistolary-ish, canon-ish side pairings, radishes) is my fav time travel long fic but it was late 2022 so it doesn't exactly match the newer fics (2023 / 2024) qualification.

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7. ITMF fics where wwx gets a different title? Like in “dispersing clouds” or “flowers blooming” he has a different title than YL - if there’s smut, no b!lwj, and ideally nothing cql compliant (but donghua/novel/audio drama/manhua/etc is fine) @lovelyiknow

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

🧡 All will be well when the day is done by abCEE (T, 76k, WangXIan, Canon Divergence, Fix It, Not Jiang Family Friendly, JFM & YZY Bashing, Fix it for our main characters, Time Travel, Butterfly Effect, Madam Lan Lives, No Sunshot Campaign, Artistic License, Unreliable Narrator, JC Bashing, non-yunmeng WWX, Accidental Baby Acquisition, Good Uncle LQR, OOC, WangXian Get a Happy Ending, WWX gets the love and care that he deserves from the very beginning, WWX Isn’t Adopted by the Jiangs, verbal and physical (c/o Zidian) abuse from YZY) link in #8B

🔒💖 Resilience. by Vrishchika (T, 7k, WangXian, Time Travel, Golden Core Transfer Fix-It, Not JC Friendly, Self-Indulgent)

💙🔒 Away from Trouble by Ilona22 (M, 15k, WangXian, Not JC Friendly, LWJ/WWX Get a Happy Ending)

Lay my body down by tawaen (M, 48k, WWX & WQ, WWX & WN, wangxian, WWX & JYL, Canon Divergence, Time Travel, Rogue Cultivator WWX, Eventual WangXian, No Golden Core Transfer, Not Cultivation World Friendly, Canon-Typical Violence, Not JC Friendly, What if WWX saw the first siege of the burial mounds and said Nope to the war, OCs, OC point-of-view for one chapter for plot reasons)

Take Responsibility by draechaeli (E, 187k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Mainly Novel with a few CQL and Donghua bits, Everybody Lives, Original Children Characters, Adoption, Adoption but WWX birthed them all, Mpreg, Teen Pregnancy, Pregnancy Kink, Male Lactation, Lactation Kink, Consensual Non-Consent, Light Bondage, Pregnant Sex, easy to skip nsfw chapters, Fix-It, Happy Ending)

🧡 the river brought you here by chilianxianzi (Not Rated, 11k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, POV Outsider, Amnesia, Past abuse, Strangulation, Found Family)

Trials of Time by Muggle_Diary (E, 32k, wangxian, major character death, underage, time travel, not jiang friendly, not YZY friendly, not JC friendly, butterfly effect)

To Sizhui by countingcr0ws (E, 21k, WangXian, Librarian LWJ, Mistaken Identity, Requited Love, Mental Link, Soul Bond, Genius WWX, Romance, Fluff, Banter, Epistolary, Love Poems, Footnotes, Smut, Laughter During Sex, Cultivation Sect Politics, Canon Divergence, Love Letters)

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8. I'm looking for fics where A) YZY does sever WWX hand and things still go bad for YMJ (no cql characterization please, I don't like JC, so novel canon please) , B) Madam Lan lives (her best life and if the Wei couple is alive too - amazing), C) the two Nie Furen - any fics that talk or have any of them live, D) WWX (and maybe LWJ) raises a daughter or interacts with his grandchildren. Thank you! @secretartquotes

8A)

💖 Love made visible by Moominmammashandbag (M, JYL/ZZL, wangxian, hurt/Comfort, amputation, major character injury, sibling love, angst w happy ending, cooking as cultivation, attempted rape/non-con, sexual assault, minor character death, family angst, dysfunctional family, protective siblings, near drowning, amnesia)

8B)

in stillness, clear water to the bottom by Stratisphyre (T, 40k, CSSR/WCZ/LQR, LQR & Madam Lan, CSSR & LQR, LQR & WWX, Sect Leader Nie/NHS's Mother/NMJ's Mother, Canon Divergence, Time Travel Fix-It, Mourning, Hurt/Comfort, Canon-Typical Violence, Threesome - M/M/F, Getting Together, Friends to Lovers, Everyone lives, (mostly), (not you qingheng-jun), Family feelings, Madam Lan lives, references to past rape)

The Dreams of Youth by sami (E, 86k, wangxian, time travel, fix-it, family, not lan sect friendly, canon typical violence & gore, childhood friends to lovers, hurt/comfort, mothers who live, some people live/not everyone dies)

Sail Away Sweet Sister by sami (M, 73k, WangXian, YZY/CSSR/MDM Lan, MingLi, Time Travel, EXTREME Canon Divergence, Wide Focus Narrative, Some People Live/Not Everyone Dies, Most Named/Canon Characters Live, Childhood Friends to Lovers, Families of Choice, Parenthood, this work contains a major tonal shift, Fluff, Angst, Underage Sex, not particularly explicit, but not at all ambiguous, PTSD, Only a tiny bit, Unforeseeable consequences, The butterfly effect, Slightly Dark JYL, Asexual Characters, but that’s not really the focus, Canon-Typical Violence)

💖 An Unexpected Visitor by Hauntcats (G, 8k, QHJ/Madam Lan, wangxian, fix-it of sorts, not Jiang friendly, not jin friendly, happy ending)

Every Mother’s Son by Chrononautical (T, 11k, WangXian, Madam Lán Lives, Madam Lán Deserves Better, Madam Lán Leaves Cloud Recesses, Madam Lan rescues women from abusive husbands in feudal Japan and honestly that’s so valid of her, mentions of rape/non-con between Madam Lan & Qingheng-Jun)

no step had trodden black by Stratisphyre (T, 32k, wangxian, LQR & WWX, JYL/JZX, canon divergence, madam lan lives, past rape, golden core reveal, hurt/Comfort, referenced to attempted suicide & suicidal thoughts, canon-typical violence)

8C)

8D)

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

🔒 Little Stars by Aki_no_hikari (G, 4k, WangXian, Family Fluff, Domestic Fluff, Canon Divergence, Yílíng Wèi Sect)

The Trouble With Politics: a Treatise on Jiang Sect Deputies Gone Rogue by Sect Leader Wei Wuxian by stiltonbasket (G, 56k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Yílíng Wèi Sect, or: the one where yu zhenhong is a wild card, Smitten LWJ, Domestic Fluff, Politics, Happy Ending, Sect Leader WWX, Fix-It of Sorts, JZX still dies though)

Where the Lonely Ones Go by CSHfic & VSfic (T, 24k, WangXian, Accidental Baby Acquisition, Case Fic, Night Hunts Fluff, Established Relationship, Mystery, Married Life, Domestic Fluff, Haunting, Kid Fic, Post-Canon, gratuitous use of empathy)

❤️ Seen and not heard by eatmyass (E, 51k, wangxian, case fic, no sunshot, kid fic, dadxian, strangers to lovers, found family, LWJ pov, pining, fake/pretend relationship, first time, falling in love) Wei Wuxian hasn't yet adopted the children in Seen and not heard but this fic shows him protecting and teaching children.

in a river you wade by bleuett (M, 20k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Mpreg, Postpartum Depression, Grief/Mourning, Hurt/Comfort, Good Uncle LQR, Family Feels, Happy Ending, Kid Fic) In "in a river you wade," Lan Wangji gets pregnant with Wei Wuxian's child so we see Lan Wangji raising their daughter after Wei Wuxian's death.

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9. Itmf / fic finder, idk which one to categorise it as hah-

So do we have any Hogwarts au of mdzs where wwx is ofcourse Harry, lqr is snape, Wei - sanren couple are james n lily, someone is voldy, lwj is maybe in Slytherin???? I want this fic or fics like this please! @constellationdks

How to save your school with your Best Friend by Lan_tiger (T, 30k, WangXian, XiYao, Harry Potter Setting, Modified Chamber of Secrets plot, Everyone Is Alive, Including canonically dead parents, Everyone has parents, Chinese magical school, Mostly comedy with some mystery, gryffindor! wwx, ravenclaw! lwj)

Grandmaster of the Magical Arts Series by HollowNightmare (T, 420k, WangXian, Harry Potter Setting, Chinese Hogwarts?, Slice of Life, Developing Friendships, POV Alternating, lwj is an anxious bean, Light Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Angst) although Wei Wuxian is a Slytherin in this one.

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10. itmf fics where the golden core reveal happens in front of everyone?

doesn’t necessarily have to be everyone but at least a group of people? thank you for your help!

A Child’s Wish by Hauntcats (Not rated, 13k, wangxian, WWX & Wen remnants, Celestial meddling, Not JC Friendly, Fix-It, Canon Divergence, Angst with a Happy Ending, Everyone gets what they deserve, Age Regression/De-Aging, Child LWJ)

Field Trips with Wei Wuxian by antebunny (G, 42k, WangXian, WQ & WWX, NMJ & WWX, JZX & WWX, Canon Divergence, Fix-It, Found Family, Angst with a Happy Ending, Misunderstandings, Miscommunication, protective Jiang siblings, Unreliable Narrator, due to WWX assuming ppl hate him, JYL is gonna dropkick her baby bro into having friends)

just because it’s what i am by kokozy (G, 4k, wangxian, Thirteen Years of WWX’s Death, Ghost WWX, Song: Inquiry, Truth comes to light, Revelations, Golden Core Reveal, Canon Divergence, Canonical Character Death, Angst, Sad with a Happy Ending)

seldom all they seem by Fahye (E, 25k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Arranged Marriage, or rather Arranged Betrothal, followed by Weapons-Grade Thirst)

The most dangerous thing is to love by KatAnni (E, 113k, WangXian, Golden Core Reveal, Fix-It, Everybody Lives, Angst with a Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, Canon Divergence, Hurt!WWX, Found Family, Implied/Referenced Torture, POV Multiple, Implied/Referenced Cannibalism, Panic Attacks, PTSD, Golden Core Transfer, Golden Core Transfer Fix-it, Medical Procedures, Fainting, Major Character Injury, Blood and Injury, WWX Has a New Golden Core, Asexual JC, homophobia doesn’t exist here, Marriage Proposal, Marriage, Wedding Night, Whump)

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11. For itmf- there has to be a wangxian wicked au right? It’s impossible that there isn’t

Grandmaster of Wicked Cultivation by ellienchanted, evilhobbitqueen, nx_for_short, planta_genista, westiec, zylaa (G, 6k, WangXian, Filk, musical theatre, wicked the musical, with apologies to Schwartz and Holzman, Sing along!, Canonical Character Death, Canon Temporary Character Death, Art, Podfic Available, Recording Available for Some Songs!)

No Good For The Wicked by drawifubmen (Not Rated, 2k, WIP, WangXian, Inspired by Wicked, Kinda, inspired by mdzs defying gravity animatic, wwx is a witch, they were roommates, Unreliable Narrator, POV Third Person Omniscient, Wizard of Oz References, Wizard of Oz Fusion, References to Wicked - Schwartz/Holzman, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Star-crossed, Canonical Character Death, Canon Divergence) which is a WIP that recently began.

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12. I've got an ITMF request, if you lovely people would be so kind. I've been reading and enjoying "all the lies on your resume" by someitems, and I was wondering if anyone has suggestions for other modern AUs where the golden core transfer is shown as chronic illness. It could be an actual golden core transfer (or partial transfer or golden core loss or whatever) in a modern with cultivation AU or an analogy for Golden Core transfer in a modern AU without magic, whatever. The important thing is that the loss of his golden core or equivalent leaves WWX with chronic illness of some kind (chronic fatigue, or chronic headaches, or needing to be careful about doing normal things so he doesn't get sick, or anything chronic illness can do). No Jiang Cheng or Jiang Yanli bashing please! Thank you mods and fic finder community! @flamingwell

silt, or scurvy series by astronicht (M, 11k, wangxian, modern w/ magic, chronic illness, Podfic: The Silt or Scurvy Series by raitala) the "silt, or scurvy" series by astronicht shows a couple of small moments in a modern wwx's life as he struggles post loss of core

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13. Hello, itmf

I wonder if anyone wrote the scene where lan zhan says aloud to lan xichen or lan qiren that he is ashamed of them.

Thank you!

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14. Hello again! I've been just wondering if anyone knows a fic where Wei Ying cultivates a womb? As apparently MXTX tweeted that it was possible for him? @lostandmessedup

Impermanence, Transience, Permanence by Best Bepsy (BepsyGray) (E, 39k, wangxian, canon divergence, unplanned pregnancy, mpreg, gore, sunshot campaign, assumed miscarriage, medical procedures, childbirth, golden core reveal) Wei Ying develops a spiritual womb through dual cultivation

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15. itmf wangxian fics where wwx is not forced to reconcile with jc/ where jc is his book canon self @chellsky

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

These Barren Lands In Between by lingering_song (T, 4k, WangXian, JC & WWX, Post-Canon, Married WangXian, POV Outsider, Misunderstandings, Cultivation Sect Politics, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Not JC Friendly, No JC & WWX Reconciliation)

🔒 all i take with me by justdoityoufucker (orphan_account) (T, 2k, JL & WWX, Post-Canon, Canon-Typical Violence, Not JC Friendly, Canon JC Characteristics, Families of Choice, Night Hunts, Unhealthy Relationships, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Healing, no reconciliation, Non-Linear Narrative)

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

also some of the chapters from Short Prompts by Vrishchika

peacemaker no more by thelastdboy (G, 6k, JYL & WWX, JC & JYL, JC & JYL & JFM & WWX & YZY, JC & WWX & JYL, JYL & Wen Remnants, JYL & WQ, WangXian, JYL & JZX, Modern, Jiang Family Dynamics, unspecified chronic illness, POV JYL, The Eldest Daughter Experience™, Homophobia, to be specific, JC's Canon Homophobia, Not JC Friendly, Wen Remnants Live, chosen family, No JC & WWX Reconciliation, Mental Health Issues, References to Depression)

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16. hi im looking for fanfics in which wwx attends jl’s birthday ceremony (lmao i forgot how it was called but i hope everybody knows what i mean by it) with a-yuan. thanks!!

The Core Issue by Hauntcats (T, 21k, WangXian, Angst with a Happy Ending, Not JC Friendly, Canon Divergence)

💖 A Crying Shame by thunderwear (G, 16k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Fix-It, A-yuan to the rescue, Getting Together, Mutual Pining, Sharing a Bed, Domestic Fluff, Love Confessions, First Kiss, LWJ joins WWX at burial mounds, LWJ is soft pass it on, literally all fluff, Marriage Proposal, Oblivious WWX)

Taking Responsibility by deliciousblizzardshark (T, 6k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Fix-It, Getting Together, Trope Subversion/Inversion, Pretend mpreg, Accidental Baby Acquisition, Fluff and Crack) I don't think it's overtly stated that the beginning of Taking Responsibility takes place during Jin Ling's celebration but it seems like it.

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17. I’m in the mood for any fics with Lan Wangji and Jiang Yanli having a strong friendship or bond. Thank you!

picking up the pieces by KouriArashi (M, 111k, JYL & LWJ, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Alternate Canon, Grief/Mourning, Angst, Regret, Family, Kid Fic, Families of Choice, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Politics, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Canon-Typical Violence, canon typical political bullshit, Eventual Happy Ending)

💖 love on 35mm by fakeplasticlily (M, 26k, WangXian, Modern, College/University, Swimming, film student LWJ, Pining, Mutual Pining, swimmer WWX, best friends LWJ and JYL, the inherent mortification of being in love with your best friend’s brother, or your older sibling’s best friend)

🔒 forever can never be long enough for me by isshun (T, 12k, WangXian, Modern, Established Relationship, Food as a Metaphor for Love, winter solstice festival, [bangs pots and pans] hello welcome to the loving wei wuxian support group, featuring co-presidents JYL and LWJ getting along and bonding over their love for WWX, JYL and LWJ getting along is my soul and jam, hurt/comfort)

My best friend's brother by mollymijh (E, 16k, WangXian, Mentions of XuanLi, mentions of xiyao, Modern AU, College/University, POV LWJ, Romance, Mutual Pining, Childhood Friends, Protective JYL, JYL and LWJ are best friends, Oblivious LWJ, Guilt, Mentions of drugging, Attempted Sexual Assault, Top LWH/Bottom WWX, Explicit Sexual Content, Shameless Smut, First Time, Dry Humping, Anal Sex, Unprotected Sex)

~*~

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

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

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deancasbigbang · 2 months ago

Text

Title: Physical Graffiti

Author: entropic_saudade

Artist: BasketcaseBetty

Rating: Explicit

Pairings: Endgame Dean Winchester/Castiel, Brief Dean Winchester/Ash, Brief Dean Winchester/Max Banes, John Winchester/Kate Milligan, Past John Winchester/Mary Winchester, Past Dean Winchester/Lee Webb, Past Dean Winchester/Cassie Robinson, Past Dean Winchester/Others, Past Castiel/Others, Implied Bobby Singer/Rufus Turner, Past Bobby Singer/Karen Singer, Harper Sayles/Vance, Edward Carrigan/Madge Carrigan, Jenny Sorenson/OMC, Larry Pike/Joanie Pike, Background Max/Stacy.

Length: 75000

Warnings: Archive Warnings: Creator Chose Not to Use Archive Warnings. Additional Content Warnings: Self Harm, Alcohol Use Disorder, Recreational Drug Use, Child Abuse, Past Non-Con, Past Underage, Past Drug Addiction, Minor Character Death, Mental Health Issues

Tags: Case Fic, Murder Mystery, Horror Elements, Slow Burn, Journalist Dean Winchester, Detective Cas, Eventual Hopeful Ending, Families of Choice

Posting Date: November 4, 2024

Summary: The only ghosts and demons are the ones inside his head. Fresh from a prematurely-ended stint at an inpatient psychiatric facility, ‘former’ self-harmer and functional alcoholic Dean Winchester returns to Sioux Falls, where he works as a crime journalist. His editor, Bobby Singer, sends him back home to Lawrence to gather the story on the murder of a teen boy and the recent disappearance of another. Painful memories from growing up resurface as the missing boy turns up horrifically dead and another goes missing. The investigation is further complicated by the town’s gossipy tight-knit nature, Dad’s judgment, and botched attempts at making inroads with his estranged half-family, Kate and Adam Milligan. Dean crosses paths with Castiel Novak, a renegade detective from Kansas City with a troubled past of his own. As they work together, they slip past each other’s defenses, unearthing each other’s secrets and digging for the truth. As it turns out, monsters just might be real—and they just might live at home. A Sharp Objects-inspired AU.

Excerpt: A dumpy parking lot, leaning against Baby’s hood, looking to the stars—it reminds Dean of doing the same with the football jocks. The way he’d smuggle stolen beer cans in Dad’s jacket pocket, turning him from ‘homo’ to ‘hero’ in their eyes. Stupidly, it reminds him of Lee. Dean sneaks a glance over at Cas’ profile, tracing the angle of his jaw as he tilts his head up. The same stupid butterflies flap in his stomach. He suffocates them with a few swigs. “So, our arrangement. I’ll answer a question for each one you answer,” Cas offers, his adam’s apple bobbing. “Deal.” “What was it like growing up in Lawrence?” Dean whistles. “Starting with hardballs, huh? You don’t pull any punches.” “Would you rather I ask for your favorite color?” Cas teases. He groans. “No, none of that grade school shit. Gimme the real scoop.” Cas raises a pointed brow. You first. “Alright, Lawrence.” He sighs, bracing himself. “Mom had… my brother when I was four.” His voice wavers slightly when he brings up Sammy. “Adam is much younger, though, isn’t he?” “Different brother, Kate’s my stepmom. Me and Sam, we’re our Mom’s. She died when Sam was six months old. House fire.” Cas’ eyes sadden, but he doesn’t say anything. “But, as far as growing up—normal, I guess. Went to the school district nearby, was in wrestling for a little bit. I wasn’t some prodigy but I did okay, grades-wise.” “I bet you were Mr. Popular.” Dean barks a laugh. “Uh, no. Sorta depends on who you ask.” Depends on what year. “After graduation, I left for college.” Dean skips over the rest of the highlight reel. “And Sam?” “Hey, you gotta answer at least one question first,” Dean pokes him. “Why is a detective from Kansas City down in Lawrence?” “My supervisor likes to send me out on solo cases for assists. I don’t exactly work well with others.” “Well, you and I make a pretty good team—a little chaotic, maybe, but at least we ruled two suspects off your list.” “That we did. It’s a shame you’re not a detective.” “Reporters are detectives of sorts. We both look for narrative, just in different ways.” Cas gives a thoughtful hum. “My turn again. What happened to Sam?” Dean’s throat convulses. “He died. We were in our teens.” “What happened?” “He was sick all the time. One day, he just… kept getting worse. His body couldn’t take it.” Sammy’s ghost observed them, sadly, flickering in an in-between state. “I’m sorry, Dean.” They sit in silence for a few moments. Panic builds in Dean’s chest, and he worries that he’s ruined whatever rapport they’d been building. “I’ll tell you something if you swear to not tell another soul?” Dean nods, relief settling over him. He eats secrets for breakfast. “The real reason I work Homicide is because it’s better than what I used to do.” “What’s so bad that working Homicide is better?” Cas looked down and didn’t answer.

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#dcbb 2024 #fic preview #2024 promo #deancas #destiel

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bamboozledbird · 2 months ago

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IGNITE: A Teen Wolf S1 AU (Reader's Version) // Prev. / Chapter 6

Characters: Stiles Stilinski, fem!reader, ofc, omc Pairing: Eventual Stiles x Reader, but man are we talking slow burn Word Count: 6k Warnings: Canon typical gore/violence, parental death (rip to your fake mom), depictions of depression (apathy, dissociation, 'numb little bug' vibes) Tags: Canon has been lovingly scrapped for parts, author is a chaotic bi and it shows, prolific overuse of the em dash, the slowest of burns i fear

Summary: You can always smell ash long after the fire is gone. Perhaps, that’s why you still can’t breathe without choking on the past. It’s been four years since your mom died. Four years since she burned alive. Four years since you didn’t. You survived, but they must have buried your heart with her because most days you feel like a shadow, some horrifically sad creature caught halfway between a ghost and a lamb for slaughter.

You can’t scrub the bitter smell of hospital from your memories, not even with denial. Maybe, that’s why death and disease follows Stiles wherever he goes now. It’s been eight years since his mom died. Eight years since he didn’t. Eight years since he decided that he wouldn’t let anyone he loved die ever again. He survived, but Beacon Hills’ bloody underbelly is making it pretty damn hard for him to keep his promise.

Time never stops turning. The grief never dissipates. Children soldier on—but in a town where all the monsters under the bed are real, and old family secrets rattle in every closet, how long can two fragile, breakable humans survive?

Maybe, the real question is: How long will they want to?

Chapter Summary: You go full Charlie Kelly and start to put all the pieces together. Stiles knows more than he lets on, but for some reason you trust him anyway.

A/N: check me out on ao3 (dork_knight) for the full lore version!

Taglist: @eaterof-concrete, @m30wk1ttycat

You played and replayed the video at least a hundred times, over and over again, examining every poorly shot, grainy frame until your eyes burned. You were frantic—a rabbit, picking her den apart, ripping her fur out, searching for all the minute flaws and misplaced straw; a girl, chewing her cheek bloody, tearing at her tights, desperately looking for some kind of explanation that wouldn’t completely shatter her fragile grasp on reality.

It would be one thing if it was just the video. You could easily rationalize the video away; you’d seen enough fan-made edits of Buffy and Twilight to know that amateur editors were hardly amateurs anymore—but it wasn’t just the video. It was the video, and the gutted video clerk, and the mangled bus driver, and the severed woman with wolf fibers found her butchered corpse—all interconnected by one very furry, clawed, fanged… thing.

Rolling onto your back, you scrubbed at your eyes, fingers cruel and violent in their attempt to scour away images of blood, and death, and monsters. There had to be an explanation. A rational explanation. Your gaze reflexively drifted towards the charm bundle on your windowsill, propped up against a few of your favorite novels.

The books were old, spines creased and splitting at the corners from little fingers and a lot of love. They were your mom’s before they were yours; you read them together under the covers whenever it rained. For a long time, you kept them hidden away under your bed with all the other things that might crumble your brittle will, but the yellowing pages steeped in memories didn’t seem so haunting anymore. You were already halfway through the stack, consuming the faded ink like a fiend in the night. It was odd; there wasn’t much that had changed since now and then. Really, only one thing. It made sense, you supposed after some thought. Your childhood favorites: Nancy Drew, Sherlock Holmes, the Hercule Poirot novels, they were exactly the kind of thing a sheriff’s son would appreciate.

The largest book in the pile was your complete collection of Sherlock Holmes. You chewed on your lip, eyes tracing the elegant swoops and swirls illuminated on the spine. Words curled along your brainstem in time with the loops, breaking through the buzzing in your mind with quiet British flourish: When you have eliminated all which is impossible, then whatever remains, however improbable, must be the truth.

Your nose scrunched, bottom lip trapped between your teeth. Surely, you hadn’t eliminated all logical explanations yet. Surely.

The metallic embellishments glinted at you, taunting you with their unmistakable presence and insistent reminder of your evening’s unavoidable ending. There was only one place to go for the improbable, after all; you just had to get past your pride and everything you believed to be true.

Before you could finish putting on your shoes, your dad found his way into your room. He lingered on the border of the black cherry floor. His stance was awkward, unsure of his footing, and you froze with your shoelace in hand. After a moment of stilted silence, he cleared his throat and loosened his tie from its chafing Windsor knot, “I just wanted to let you know I’ll be out later than usual.”

Nodding, you tied your laces into neat bows and pulled the wrinkles in your tights straight, “Parent Teacher Conferences, right?”

“Mhm,” he paused and attempted a smile. The edges were stiff, as if his mouth had forgotten the movement, at least when directed at you, “Should I be worried?”

It was his attempt at a joke; you knew that. You still felt a flutter of anxiety. Despite Stiles’s reassurances, you weren't so cavalier about breaking the rules. “All A’s,” you finally said, quietly to your feet.

Your dad gave you a real smile; smaller than his previous attempt at playfulness, but this one was your favorite. He was proud. It’d been a long time since he’d looked at you with anything other than grief and unease. “That’s my girl.” He rapped his knuckles against your door frame and said, “There’s takeout money on the table. Don’t stay out too long; there’s a—”

“Curfew, I know.” You slung your bag over your shoulder and fiddled with the strap, “I’ll be back soon.”

He didn’t ask you where you were going. He never did. You weren't sure what that said about your relationship, but you didn’t want to think about it any longer than you had to. There were far more pressing things to dwell on.

Maggie was in her kitchen when you opened the door to her house. It was cozy, small; she'd inherited it from her mother when she passed years ago. There were still signs of her 70s nostalgia all over every room. The shag carpet was horrendous, but you kind of liked the color. The muted green almost looked like a bed of moss, like something out of a fairytale. You had your own key; you’d had one since you were old enough to be a latchkey kid—even though you were never really on your own for long. There was always someone around to help you with your homework, bake you brownies without getting shell in the batter, read you stories about far away places and imaginary worlds. You’d had a wonderful childhood until it ended; some people weren’t that lucky. You knew that you were fortunate to have twelve years of Rockwellian bliss; it was more than a lot of people got. Knowing, however, still didn’t make the after any easier.

“Want a scone?” Maggie’s head was buried in the oven, steam curling around her shoulders. She emerged with a tray of browned lumps in pink oven-mitted hands, “They're slightly burnt, but it’s not my fault. My timer betrayed me.”

You didn’t reply. You chewed on your lip and studied the plants hanging from the ceiling. The Angelica was in full bloom, little clusters of white fuzzy fireworks. The roots were supposed to ward off evil. You would’ve scoffed at the thought a week ago. Now, there was a lingering ‘what if’ you couldn’t shake.

You sighed quietly, the exhaustion rattling through your chest, and trailed your gaze to the next plant. Skullcaps were your favorite, not because they were supposed to induce visions, obviously; you liked the blossoms. The fluted periwinkle petals certainly looked magical. You picked a flower from the lowest stem and rolled it between your fingers, “You really believe in this shit, right?” You looked up from your hands and studied Maggie’s face carefully, “It’s not all a scam?”

The anticipated gasp carried through the kitchen, followed by the clang of a plonked baking sheet, “I resent the very implication.”

“I’m serious.” You stared at Maggie’s back, watching for any tell-tale signs of tension or rigidity, “Do you really believe that witches are real and wolfsbane can kill werewolves?”

“I will not be abused in my own home,” there was a lilt in Maggie’s voice, a flippancy that usually made your lips twitch into a smile, but Maggie's hand trembled and sent the scone on the edge of her spatula to the floor. Maggie dropped to her knees and scooped the crumbling pieces into a pile with desperate hands, oddly frantic for something as silly as a dropped pastry.

You squatted next to her and rested your hands over Maggie’s until they stilled. “Mags,” you were quiet, gentle in your sweeping, but Maggie didn’t seem soothed by the clean floor.

Maggie’s chin lifted, but her eyes zeroed in on the tip of your nose instead of your eyes. “Babe.”

You gripped your knees, clinging to the caps with ragged nails and flexed knuckles, like your bones were the only solid thing left in the room. “Can you be serious for once in your life, please.” Your tongue went heavy, adhering to the floor of your mouth, effectively sealing everything else you couldn’t bring yourself to say: Please, I think I’m losing my mind, and I don’t know how much longer I can white-knuckle it.

Maggie turned towards the counter carelessly, and her pinky brushed against the cookie sheet. She let out a sharp hiss through her teeth and shook her hand in the air. “Why does it matter?” Her words were muffled through the blistering finger in her mouth, “People buy what they want to buy.”

Your empathy was thinning and so was your patience. Your teeth gnashed, and you winced when your tongue got in the way. “I don’t give a shit about your delusional customers. You know what I mean.”

“See, ‘delusional,’” Maggie stuffed a scone into her mouth even though it was still steaming. Her eyes watered as she struggled to swallow the wad of blueberry and oatmeal lodged against the roof of her mouth. “Why are we even talking about this?” she said thickly, throat clogged with congealed crumbs and something skittish in her eyes. She bent over the sink and turned the water to cold; you weren't entirely sure if she was soothing the burns on her tongue or simply avoiding eye contact.

“There’s something happening here,” your voice trembled, much to your disdain, and you were further horrified by the stinging in your tear ducts, “and I don’t know what to do.”

Maggie’s head whipped towards you, wetting her hair and splattering her lenses with water droplets that dripped onto her nose, “You don’t have to do anything. That’s not your job.” She clutched your shoulders with desperate fingers, digging into your scapulae until it hurt, “Your job is to go to school, get good grades, and live happily ever after.”

You shook off her hands and wiped your nose against your shoulder, “Why won’t you just give me a straight answer?”

“Well, I am bi–”

“Maggie,” you struggled for words until there was only one left on your tongue, “please.”

A blank expression fell over her face, and then Maggie seemed to sink through the floor even though she was still standing. “Did you read the book?”

You could barely hear her. Your nose shriveled towards your brows, “What book?”

Her eyes shined with something; you couldn’t quite define it. There was a glimmer of remorse, but you couldn’t make out the rest. “‘Beacon Hills’ Bloodlines’.”

For a moment, you were too confused to be frustrated, “Not really.”

Confusion became bewilderment when Maggie left the kitchen without a word. She returned with a thick book; though, book wasn’t quite accurate. It was really a stack of pulp parchment barely held together with a piece of threaded twine. It looked older than the Bloodline’s journal; you could see a few pages sticking out from the others, and the spine was in desperate need of re-stitching. You reluctantly took the pages from Maggie’s hands after she shook it in your face a couple times.

Maggie was quiet when she finally spoke, “Read the journal.” She nodded towards the new book, “That too.”

You frowned at the cover and held it out in front of you like it was contaminated. “Why are you being so weird about this? Just tell me.”

Maggie looked at you, and the most peculiar sensation rolled down your spine. Maggie's eyes were so present, like a shotgun blast, like a meteor shower. Her voice wasn’t even close to loud, but it was just as piercing as her stare, “I made a promise; I have to keep at least part of it.”

Your forehead creased, “Wha...that’s even weirder. Are you fuckin’ Gandalf? Just say it.”

“Trust me,” Maggie’s gaze shifted to the floor, and you almost melted with relief, “there are some things that you’re better off not knowing.”

“Great. Thanks, Obi-Wan,” you rolled your eyes and crammed the bound parchment into your bag, “I’ll figure it out myself.”

A cool hand cupped your cheek before you could leave. You grudgingly met Maggie’s gaze, adjusting your grip on the strap of your bag.

Maggie held onto your shoulders, a breath away from shaking you. “Promise me, you won’t do anything stupid.”

You grimaced, “I–” A flash in Maggie’s eyes dried all the words on your tongue.

“Promise.”

“Promise,” you mumbled.

Maggie finally let you leave, and your feet felt heavier than they did when you walked into Maggie’s apartment. Your bag was heavier, so perhaps it wasn’t all an illusion. The guilt, however, was certainly playing a part in your sagging shoulders. You chewed on a thumbnail and slipped into the comfort of denial. It didn’t count as a broken promise if you didn’t really know what you were promising.

Your dad was still gone when you got home, and you were relieved. Solitude was your only comfort with all this dread chilling your blood. You weren't good with the unpredictable, not anymore. You tried to study it, the way you did with dead languages and theoretical physics, but the methodology wasn't clear. You just wished, for once, you were as scary as people believed.

There was one thing you could do—or rather two. One was on your desk, and the other was at the bottom of your bag.

You started with the journal, and your hair quickly became a nuisance. Every time you bowed your head to get a better look at the messy scrawl, wispy strands obscured your vision. You tied your hair back and nibbled on your lip, struggling to determine if a smudged loop was an ‘a’ or an ‘o.’ They didn’t have computers in the 1800s, you knew that, but it wouldn’t have killed Maggie’s great-great-great-grandmother to quill with a little less ink. Neat cursive was hardly as taxing as cholera.

The pain at the base of your skull was unbearable by the time you made it through half of the entries. Your impatience was rapidly fraying, with yourself and with the lack of insight. Maybe, this was all an elaborate stall—or maybe Maggie really didn’t know anything.

You flopped back against your pillows and starfished your limbs across your bed until all your joints and muscles unkinked. “Fuck me.” Your eyes flicked down your legs, and you glowered at the journal. It was goading you, opened to the middle and sprawled across your thighs, staring at you and all your incompetence.

Your thumbs dug a trench in your skull as you tried to rub the throbbing out of your temples.

One more page. You could read one more page.

You flipped the page, careful with the crumbling corner. The parchment was cluttered with names and arrows; there were a few illustrations too, sketched portraits of the people memorialized on paper. It was inked chaos, but only one word stood out to you. In a large curling script, Hale was spread all over the complicated family tree. You gnawed on your lip and bent your head closer to the small description at the top of the page: The Hale pack founded Beacon Hills in 1856, saving the town from desolation with their wealth. The pack has several branches, extending across the state. They continue to be a prevalent force in their world.

The bloodlines were difficult to follow with all the different branches and untimely deaths. As far as you could tell, the line was documented all the way to 2002. There were a few different sets of handwriting; the style changed every few decades or so, and you flipped to the end of the family line just to check for Maggie’s chicken scratch. You didn’t find her handwriting, but you did notice something familiar on the last line. Derek Hale.

You knew, of course, that Derek would likely be included, but your breath hitched when your finger traced over the notation inscribed next to almost every single one of his family members’ names: Deceased: Arson. Laura Hale was still alive on the tree, and the thought of documenting her death—of giving her an end date —it stole all the air from your lungs.

Your eyes burned, and you quickly flipped back to the start of the Hale bloodline. A few dozen county death records later, the burning in your corneas was due to the strain of one too many computer searches. Still painful, but you much preferred blue light sting to the threat of tears. You focused on it, on the ache; it was so much quieter than all the thoughts fighting you for their turn. They were so loud, a million ravenous locusts buzzing, feasting on your ear canal. You couldn’t make out what they were saying, what they were trying to tell you—what they wanted you to believe.

Derek Hale couldn’t be a werewolf because that would mean werewolves were real, and if werewolves were real, how many other monsters were lurking in the dark? How many creatures from Maggie’s stories were waiting for someone to separate from the herd, biding their time until they could sink their teeth into human flesh?

There was only so much you could find online and in Maggie’s books. Certain secrets had yet to be written.

It was disturbingly easy to find out where Stiles lived. The receptionist at the Sheriff’s station was all too happy to give you his address when you gave her your name. You finally stumbled upon the one perk of being an infamous, pathetic half-orphan: blind faith.

His house was smaller than yours, and you were jealous. All the empty space just made the silence worse, you found. You could see a few spots where the paint was peeling when you got closer, and you smiled at the shoddy patch work. You wondered who tried to fix it. You hoped it was Stiles; you could see the paint in his hair, maybe smeared across his cheek from an ill-advised attempt to scratch his nose. It was adorable.

You knocked on the door and clutched Maggie’s books tighter to your chest. You’d expected Stiles to answer the door, but he didn’t. You didn’t know why it hadn’t occurred to you that someone else would be home until Sheriff Stilinski opened the door, but you felt stupid for not thinking of it sooner. The Sheriff looked just as surprised to see you; at least, he had an actual reason.

“Oh.” You blinked and devolved into a monosyllabic moron, “Hi.”

Obviously, you knew Stiles was Sheriff Stilinski’s son, but for some reason the idea of them occupying the same place at the same time was dumbfounding. YOur mind couldn’t make sense of it. There was the Sheriff in one box, with all your grief, all your pain, and then there was Stiles. You didn’t fully know what was in his box, but you knew it was good.

“Hey, kid,” Sheriff Stilinski smiled through his confusion, “you okay? Did something—”

“I’mheretoseeStiles,” all your words were smooshed together in one big exhale.

The Sheriff looked even more confused for a moment, and then he gave you a little conspiratorial grin. “He’s up in his room. Go ahead.”

You nodded absently and followed him inside. You stopped thinking about the hefty pile of books in your arms when you noticed the slight limp in Sheriff Stilinski’s step. “Are you okay?”

The Sheriff followed your gaze and waved his hand, “It’s nothing. Barely a scratch.”

You hesitated at the foot of the stairs, looking for blood or something equally horrific. He had no reason to lie to you, but you’d gotten used to the worst case scenario. “You sure?”

The wrinkles at the corners of his eyes deepened with his smile, “You sound like my son.”

You mouth ticked up slightly, “That’s not an answer.”

Sheriff Stilinski had a nice laugh, you thought. You grinned as his head shook with another rumbling chuckle. “Now you really sound like my son. I hope he hasn’t driven crazy too.”

“Eh,” you shrugged a little and smiled, “he’s alright.” Your voice dropped a little, like you were telling a secret, “More than, actually. He’s…good.”

The Sheriff looked surprised briefly, a spasm of disbelief, and then all the muscles in his face seemed to melt with fondness. “He is,” his voice was a bit gravelly when he spoke, like it got lodged halfway up his throat. He loved his son; it was obvious. You wondered if your dad ever looked like that when talked about you. You wondered if he even talked about you at all.

“Not a lot of people are,” you said quietly, looking down at your sneakers. The white wasn’t even white anymore. They were graying from years of stepping on your own feet, kicking car doors closed, tripping over asphalt. You weren't the kind of girl who could keep shoes clean; that was one thing about you that hadn’t changed. Sometimes, it felt like everything else had, and none of it was for the better.

Sheriff Stilinski waited until you looked up, and then he smiled at you, almost as fondly as before. “You are.”

You were overwhelmed with feeling, so close to an emotion you couldn’t name, but you knew you’d felt it before. Once upon a time, when parents were parents, and children were children.

The Sheriff rested his hand on your shoulder and squeezed. You were tipping into tearful, and you’d never been so grateful to hear Stiles’s voice.

“Dad, who’s—” Stiles stopped at the top of the stairs and stared at the two of you. His jaw dangled, and it didn’t snap shut until his dad snorted. Stiles’s eye twitched, and you could see the reboot loading behind his eyes. You wholly understood the sentiment.

His brain regained function, and apparently all he could come up with was, “Hey.”

You grinned to yourself, a small secret smile at his predicament, and your hand cocked in a little wave, “Hey.”

Sheriff Stilinski cleared his throat, “I’ll—I’m going to get something to eat.” Neither of you looked at him; you were too busy playing a strange staring contest with equally stupid looks on your faces.

Stiles recovered from his stupor once you were alone. His face settled into something bitter, stony at all the edges, irritation tucked into the creases. It was hardly the face you expected to see when you finally paid him a surprise visit.

Your brow curved, and you tried not to shrink in on yourself. “You look pissed.”

Stiles snorted and drummed his fingers against the railing, “Yeah, well, you’re in a perpetual state of pissiness, so we’ve all got problems.” You must have crumpled this time, at least a little bit, because his scowl thawed and his hands fell limply by his sides. “Sorry. That’s not—displaced aggression, it’s my sweet spot.”

You shrugged and smiled slightly, a little stiff, a lot amused, “You’re not exactly wrong.”

“Still.”

You played another game of eye-contact chicken, and Stiles scratched the back of his rapidly flushing neck. Your hair, still damp from the light drizzle, fell in front of your face as you tilted your head towards the stairs, “So, you gonna invite me up, or…”

He nodded a little too quickly and definitely too fervently, “Yeah, sorry. I’m just—”

“Pissed?” you smirked and adjusted your grip on your books, trekking up the stairs. Stiles narrowed his eyes at you, but he was smiling. He had a nice smile; it was big, loose—unrestrained in a way a lot of people were afraid to be. It was the kind of smile you couldn’t help but return.

Stiles let out a profound sigh and shook his head, “It’s all Scott’s fault.” You shot him a dubious look as he pushed his bedroom door open for you. He shrugged, “If I only tell it with carefully selected parts of the story, it’s all his fault.”

Your mouth twitched. Your smile was small, but it peeled back a good deal of the person you thought you should be. So much so, there was a little you peeking underneath. “We can pretend it is. Just for today.”

Stiles’s throat bobbed with his swallow, and when he smiled back at you, slowly, fleetingly, but ever-so sweetly, you finally realized you were awkwardly standing in the middle of his room. Like an idiot.

His room was exactly what you expected, and that was…you didn’t realize that you knew him well enough to expect plaid bedding and posters of cringey emo bands that were heavily featured on most of your playlists.

His desk was cluttered with various books and papers, stacked with no apparent rhyme or reason. You recognized the bestiary he bought from Curio Killed the Cat; the burgundy and gold binding was striking against all his monochrome textbooks. There were a few papers poking out from the aged pages, printouts of something furry and familiar. Before you could get a better look, Stiles bustled past you, doing a quick but rather poor job of hiding his dirty laundry under his bed and behind his closet door.

Stiles was slightly out of breath when he finished, dropping onto the foot of his bed, “So…you stalkin’ me now?”

You rested your hip against his desk and hummed, “Seemed only fair.”

“Well,” his face split into a bright, infuriating grin, “I am flattered.”

“Shut up.” His grin widened, and you rolled your eyes, glaring at your bowed reflection in a chrome lamp on the edge of his desk. It was in grave need of a good dusting, along with most of the room. “You’re literally my only option.”

“So, you’re sayin’ I’m the one.” Stiles’s smirk was audible, and you sputtered.

Your ears were unnaturally hot, and so was the back of your neck. You meant to groan, wanted him to know just how unamusing you found him, but your throat failed you. Your complaint came out airy, huffy, and it trembled against your soft palate. Truthfully, it sounded awfully similar to a whine; you scowled at the sound and squeezed your books tighter to your chest, “I’m leaving. Right now. I’ve reached my maximum capacity for bullshit.”

Long fingers circled around your wrist before you could go too far. They were blistering against your cool skin, but a shiver shuddered through your arm all the way to your skull.

“Don’t go,” Stiles hummed softly, close enough to warm the shell of your ear. “I owe you one, remember?”

You braved a look at him through your lashes, and he was smiling at you again; this one was nervous. He had forgotten, it seemed, to let go of your wrist until now. Stiles sat back down on his bed, and you absently brushed your fingers over the lingering sensation of his fingertips.

“Right,” you looked around the room and chewed on your bottom lip, “so…what was that whole thing with Derek Hale?”

Stiles paused. You could feel him watching you, studying you like one of his puzzles. “He needed a ride.”

You set your books on his desk, and Stiles nodded towards the chair in front of him. You hesitated before sitting down, feeling a bit like you were giving up the battlefield high ground, “You’re like…friends, then?”

“Absolutely not.” If the emphatic denial wasn’t enough to convince you, the violent shake of his head was telling enough. “Kind of wish he was dead, actually. It would solve so many problems.”

“So you don’t actually know him that well,” you murmured, sinking into the chair with all your hopes and plans.

Stiles’s neck craned as he studied your face, “Why?” You just looked at him, keeping your face impassive, and his eyes went a little buggy. “I know he looks dreamy, but that would be nothing but a nightmare for everyone involved. Trust me.”

Your face twisted, lips curling around the unsavory taste in your mouth. “I don’t—what was wrong with him yesterday?”

Stiles didn’t look entirely convinced, but skepticism did look a lot like concern. “Stomach bug.”

You rolled your eyes. It would’ve made you laugh under any other circumstance, but you didn’t feel much like laughing now. You’d been a tick away from the edge ever since you realized that Lydia had been this close to being butchered by that thing.

Your fingers curled into tight fists, knuckles straining, “I’m not an idiot, okay. I know there’s something weird going on.” You looked up from your lap with sharp eyes, but if he looked a little closer, he’d see the desperation underneath, “And I know you know something about it.”

Stiles swallowed hard and twisted his fingers together, “I’m actually known for knowing nothing about anything. Ever.”

He flinched when you stood up abruptly. The chair rolled back into his desk and sent a few pencils to the floor. You glared at them, like they did it on purpose just to spite you, and your glower drifted towards the glint of citrine and garnet on the corner of his desk. “This.” You picked up the bestiary and tried to shake it in front of his face, but it was too heavy to do your frustration justice, “Why did you buy this?”

His eyes, miraculously, grew rounder, “I told you. D—”

“N’ D, I know, but I looked into it. This is real; it’s transcribed from a real Ancient Greek text.”

“...I like authenticity.” Stiles shrugged towards his fidgeting hands, “I take my craft seriously.”

Scoffing, you dropped the book on top of his bed, “So you’re saying you believe the whole mountain lion theory?”

“Well, obviously no—”

“Then what do you believe?” Your chest seethed with quick shallow breaths as you paced from one side of his room to the other, “Because I was looking through this genealogy line, and the Hales have been here before Beacon Hills was even Beacon Hills, and there’s a pattern of—hold on.”

You snatched Maggie’s journal off of his desk and flipped it open to the Hale family tree, bookmarked with the thick stack of county death reports you’d printed out. “Look, there’s a series of premature, violent deaths in their line directly after a series of animal attacks on the town, and then all of it just stopped a few generations before Derek’s mom became the head of the pa—”

You didn’t know when Stiles stood up, but he was in front of you now, stopping you in your tracks. He brushed his fingers through his short crop of hair and shook his head, “Hold on, okay. Take a breath—”

You didn’t hear him, not really. Truthfully, you didn’t even notice that he’d started talking. You shoved the pages closer to his face, and all your words rushed past your lips in one carved out breath, “And then it all started again after Laura Hale was killed, and she was found with wolf fibers on her body—”

Stiles’s brows flew towards his hairline, “How do you kno—”

“She became the head of the family after Talia died, right?” Your hair was as wild as your eyes after a series of urgent tugging, and you prayed to all the mythical gods in every game you’d ever played that you sounded saner than you looked. They might actually exist, after all. Who's to say that Selûne didn't exist in a world where werewolves did? “‘Cause she’s the oldest living, fully conscious relative, and then immediately after she's killed, the animal attacks start up again, like she was keeping something in-check.”

“Slow down.” Stiles gripped your shoulders. You were closer than either of you realized until you looked up and your noses were almost touching. He swallowed thickly and let go of you after a moment, taking a step back, “A couple of days ago you thought this was all bullshit.”

You chewed on your lip and your indecision, looking for something in his face. You didn’t know what, but you were pretty sure you found it when his mouth furrowed into a concerned frown. It was for you, you realized, not because of you. That was…a rarity in your life as of late. You didn’t hate it.

Sighing, you pulled your phone out of your jacket pocket and opened the video from Lydia’s phone. “A couple of days ago I hadn't seen this,” you mumbled, shoving the phone into his hand.

Stiles looked at you for a moment longer and then pressed play. His face was unreadable, save for the small flinch when the beast shattered the store window, and you hated it. “Where did you get this?” Stiles finally said quietly. His voice was low and infected with something dire.

You rifled through your papers, something to keep your hands busy and your eyes off of the dark look on Stiles’s face, “Someone sent it to Lydia—it was a blocked number, so don’t ask who.”

“Did she—”

“I deleted it before she could.”

Neither of you needed to say it; you both knew Lydia was clinging to sanity by the skin of her perfect teeth. She couldn’t see the proof that the monster under her bed was real. Not yet. Maybe not ever.

“Good.” Stiles rubbed a hand over his face, looking so much older than sixteen, and he flickered his gaze to your face, “You can’t show this to anyone. You know that, right?”

“Besides Scott,” you retorted dryly.

Stiles almost smiled. There was a ghost of one hiding in the corners of his mouth, but it faded before it could materialize. “Believe me, he really doesn’t need any more proof. Delete it.”

He sighed at your scowl and tried again, “Please delete it.”

You shook your head and grabbed your phone from his hands, “Not until you tell me what you know.”

“I don’t know anything.” Stiles held up his hands and took a careful step towards you, “Really. I know as much as you do.”

You stared at him. You weren't sure if you were a good judge of character. You’d like to think you were, but it wasn’t like you spent a lot of time around other people. Even before you got trapped in your head, you really only had one friend, and you used to think you’d be friends with her for the rest of your lives. Maybe longer.

You’d been wrong before. You didn’t want to be wrong again.

Stiles reached for your hand, and you let him lace your fingers together. “I know how you feel. It sucks, and it’s kind of exciting, but mostly freakin’ terrifying—and all you need to know is that it’s going to be okay. Okay?”

Your chin jerked in a rigid little nod. You softened slightly when he squeezed your hand. He wasn’t telling you everything; you were almost 100% certain of that, but you were also pretty sure he wasn’t lying. That was enough for you. For now.

“The file room,” you said quietly.

Stiles’s lips drew together into a little pucker, “What?”

“The evidence room with all the files,” you looked up at him, and the ember of hope was stoked in your eyes, “there’s probably more there.”

He bit down on his cheek, “I don’t know—”

You folded her arms over her chest, chin lifting in defiance, “You promised.”

Stiles sighed and ran his hand over his head. His smile was a little affectionate thing. He sighed and shook his head, “I promised.”

“Well, alright then.” Your shoulders relaxed, and you sat back down in his desk chair, “Middle of the night break-in, it’s a date.”

#stiles stilinski x reader #stiles stilinski imagine #stiles stilinski #dylan o'brien x reader #dylan o'brien imagine #teen wolf #stiles stilinski x you #stiles stilinski fanfiction #stiles stilinksi x reader #teen wolf imagine #teen wolf fanfiction #stiles stilinski imagines

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preseriesdean · 4 months ago

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for @spnficrecfest day three 💛

Unraveling by Linden sam/dean, 855 words, rated E, published 2017 No, he’d said, the first time Sammy had tried to kiss him, sixteen and half-drunk and stupidly beautiful, even though he’d wanted so badly to say yes.

wisely & slow by deadlybride / @zmediaoutlet sam/dean, 1109 words, not rated, published 2022 Sam turns fifty.

And if I die, I’ll die, I’ll die alone by BlindSwandive sam/dean, 1756 words, rated T, published 2022, suicide The life we saw for Sam at the end of S15E20 was only what Dean imagined for him. Sam joins him after a much shorter time.

An Absence of Violence by riyku sam/dean, 1872 words, rated M, published 2012 Dean finally comes home. He's in pretty bad shape.

beloved by urchinesque sam&dean, 1905 words, not rated, published 2016, death It might be the gentlest thing that's ever happened to them.

When I Fall Asleep It Is Your Eyes That Close by britomart_is sam/dean, 1945 words, rated E, published 2009 Post-Season Two. Sam is alive. Dean is happy.

Looking In by @gracerene dean/omc, past sam/dean, 2066 words, rated E, published 2022, outsider pov If Sam died instead of Dean, Dean would be wasting away in a backroom of a bar somewhere.

whose wings, though tattered, shall carry me home by fleshflutter dean/cas, implied sam/dean, 2009 words, rated T, published 2009 There is a breeze moving across the field. It stirs the long grass in lapping waves like the sea. Castiel runs his fingertips through it and remembers flying.

491 by Askance sam/dean, 2482 words, rated G, published 2016 The Rattlesnake 24-Hour Dine-In isn't in Rattlesnake or Shiprock or anywhere, really. It just sits on the highway, sinking on its far end, an oven in the daytime and a steel box at night, rarely-traveled and barely-loved.

Fallout by riyku sam/dean, 2945 words, rated E, published 2014 Two days ago, Sam screwed his brother. One hour ago, Dean came back.

honorable mention:

A man with his insides out and his outsides off by britomart_is sam/dean, 5.3k words, rated E, published 2016, underage They say there are only two stories in the world: man goes on a journey, and stranger comes to town.

this fic isn't a "short fic", really, not by the limitations i've set myself, but it packs so much into its less than 6k words that i had to add it anyway because i made the rules and i can break them :)

#spnficrecfest #wincest #fanfic #whatever it is #i will make everyone and their mother read that britomart_is time travel fic until the end of this month idc

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impala-dreamer · 5 months ago

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Legendary & Momentary

A Supernatural Story

~Two strangers meet again; two memories collide. Will things be different this time? Will there be more to their story or just a long overdue kiss goodbye?~

Dean x Reader, Sam, OMC

5,356 Words

NSFW. Show-Level Violence and Blood. Intimate Relations. Angst. Bittersweet Romance.

This fills "The Night They Met" square on @jacklesversebingo, and "First Time" on my Dreamer Bingo... hope you enjoy

JacklesBingo Masterlist

Impala-Dreamer’s Masterlist ~ Patreon ~ Published Works

The bell chimed above the old red door and Y/N looked up from the counter.

She was filthy and tired. Her apron was covered in the greasy remnants from the lunch rush and her jeans were stained by a spilled cup of lukewarm coffee that she never got to drink. She pressed the tip of her pen to Mr. Taylor’s check and tried to finish calculating the tax when she saw him.

He walked through the door like no time had passed.

His hair was still stuck up in that familiar way that made it seem like he ran his hand through it constantly. His jeans were still ripped even though they fit a little bit tighter. The leather jacket was gone and his face held a few more lines than she remembered, but there was no doubt in her mind that it was him.

Dean Winchester.

Her breath caught and the pen moved across the thin green paper all on its own, leaving behind a smudged blue line.

“Shit!”

He didn’t look over, didn’t see her staring in awe.

Quickly, she tallied up the total and ripped the paper free. Mr. Taylor was still working on his tenth cup of coffee and she tucked the bill beneath the stainless steel creamer cup.

“Whenever you’re ready,” she said with a distracted smile.

Dean scanned the small diner and paused on her face. He smiled passively and pointed to a booth by the window.

Startled and a little hurt by the lack of recognition in his eyes, Y/N simply nodded.

“Be- uh-” She cleared her throat and took a breath. “Be right there!”

Dean waved a hand her way as he slid into the long bench seat. “Take your time, Sweetheart.” The vinyl crackled and the springs creaked beneath him as he settled in the middle and set his elbows on the table. He clasped his hands as if in prayer and pressed his forehead to his knuckles.

Y/N tried not to stare but it was hard to blink, hard to move, hard to do anything but gawk at the man she’d once loved.

OK, maybe it wasn’t love, but it was something legendary.

At least to her.

She was freezing and terrified; lost to the daylight and trapped in some unholy hell. The rough ropes around her wrists were too tight, ripping at her delicate skin each time she dared to move. The turn of her shoulders was harsh. It kept her arms locked behind the back of the hard wooden chair and it was enough to send pins down to her fingers, numbing everything from joint to tip. The beer-soaked rag jammed into her mouth made it hard to breathe, scream, or even stay conscious.

Only four hours had passed but it felt like twenty.

Two other girls had gone before her, ripped from their seats by hungry hands and blood-stained lips that dragged them off into the shadows of the empty building. She didn’t know where they went, only that they didn’t return. Their screams echoed until they failed, fading from pained, wordless pleas to the pale final moans before death.

She was the only one left.

She chewed on the rag, pushed at it with her tired tongue, and shook her head furiously, trying anything to get free. The cursed fabric mocked her like a stripped screw, moving only enough to give her hope and no more.

She kicked at the floor, pushing down as hard and tipping the chair. She braced herself as best she could, tensing her body inwards as the cold, filthy concrete floor accepted her left side. Her head bounced off the stone and bright lights popped like camera flashes around the edges of her vision. She felt her stomach turn with pain and then there was nothing. The cold wrapped itself around her and the shadows drew in close, swallowing her whole.

Time passed around her but Y/N was out cold. She dreamt of the bar, of that stupid jerk who’d caught her eye and danced so close. Of the smell of his cologne, of the drugs he’d tipped into her drink. She felt his lips again, sliding from her mouth to her cheek and down, lingering over her pulse to suck a painful little mark on her throat. She felt his hand on her cheek, holding her hostage to his lust.

Another hand hit her cheek, tapping gently, and Y/N blinked into the darkness, focusing finally on a pair of unbelievable green eyes. They reminded her of a thriving forest of deep evergreens lit by the golden rays of sunrise. She smiled.

“Good. You’re alive.”

The eyes came with a face that pulled back a few inches and captivated her addled mind. Freckles. Lashes. Crooked nose. Plump lips.

She shook her head. “What?”

“You gotta get up.”

Y/N’s gaze narrowed. “Who are you?”

A half smile, a tiny laugh. “I’m Dean.” He lifted her head, gently cradling the wound on her temple. He leaned in, glancing at each of her eyes, gauging the damage. “Can you tell me your name?”

She nodded and swallowed, clearing her throat. “Y/N.”

Dean smiled again. “Good. Nice to meet you.”

In a flash, she was sitting up again as he placed the chair back on four legs. Her bones rattled as wood hit concrete and her vision wavered.

“What’s going on- who are you?” she said again, not remembering his name or finding it a suitable response.

Nimble fingers worked on the knot at her wrist. “My name’s Dean Winchester.” When the ropes fell, he rushed around to help her up, extending a big hand. “And I’m here to rescue you.”

He beamed with pride and she laughed softly.

“You’ve always wanted to say that, haven’t you?”

Dean bit his lip and shrugged. “Can you blame me?”

Her hand slipped into his palm and warmth ran up her arm, filling her with a sense of safety she couldn’t fully understand.

“I guess not.”

“Can you stand?” he asked, closing his fingers. They were so long they nearly eclipsed her entire hand.

Y/N drew herself up and took a steadying breath. “I think so.”

Something fell in the distance. Metal crashed. Glass shattered. A deep roar filled the air, growing louder by the second.

“Good,” Dean said, gripping her tighter. “Because now we gotta run.”

Sam waltzed in like he owned the place, his long hair whipping in the wind he created when he threw the door open.

With a cocky nod at the waitress, he threw himself onto the dull red vinyl across from Dean and slapped his hand on the table, startling his brother.

“You sleeping?”

Dean sneered and dropped his hands into his lap. “No. I’m thinking.”

Sam chuckled. “Don’t hurt yourself.”

“Ya know-” Dean bit his tongue and shook his head, refusing to get into it. He was road-weary and exhausted, ready for a burger and a bed and nothing more. “Whatever. What did you find out?”

“Well…” Sam pulled his phone from his jacket pocket and swiped a finger across the screen. “Did some digging at the rectory and Father-”

“The where?”

Dean grinned like an idiot and Sam rolled his eyes.

“The rectory.”

Clearing his throat in subtle reprimand, Sam carried on, expounding upon the history of some priest who had died in the town in 19-something-or-other. Dean couldn’t pay attention. The waitress behind the counter had caught his eye and his brain was working in overdrive. There was something about her that was pulling him in. Something familiar and slightly painful that he couldn’t put his finger on.

She was pretty. Her hair was tied back in a messy ponytail, her face was dabbed with what he hoped was flour, and she wore a tight navy tee that showed off curves that could drive any soul mad. There was a softness to her that broke his heart, a kindness that lit her energy. When she smiled, he could tell that it wasn’t real, wasn’t completely true. She knew things that other people didn’t, things that would invoke Lovecraftian nightmares in most, and yet, she kept herself busy in a diner in a little town in the middle of nowhere. He could see it in her eyes. It was a look you couldn’t lose once you knew the truth about the world.

It was a look he knew all too well. One that he saw in the mirror every morning.

She turned toward him with two plastic-covered menus under her arm and a pot of coffee in hand.

When their eyes met she froze. Dean could see her take a deep breath and he stared as her face etched itself in his memory banks.

His heart ached.

Y/N.

He couldn’t believe it. After all these years, there she was- just as beautiful, just as soft and enticing. He bit down hard into his bottom lip and let the film in his mind play.

“Where are we going?” Y/N was panting; desperate to keep up but exhausted from her torturous night. Dried blood caked her throat and fresh release bubbled like a thick ooze on the side of her head. Her skin was paling; her eyes were blurry.

Her hand felt so small against his and he squeezed it hard, refusing to let go. Twice, she’d stumbled next to him, and twice, Dean had scooped her up, unwilling to lose another victim to his own weakness and the monsters of the world.

Dean stopped for a moment and looked around. They were in a labyrinth of rooms deep inside a derelict factory with little light to guide them and no way to remember every twist and turn as they ran through.

“Uh… out,” he said, unsure but afraid to say so.

Y/N tugged on his hand and made him look at her. “Out?”

“Yeah. Out. We’re getting out of here!” His brow creased and his lips fell into a straight line. He was worried.

She shivered. “How?”

He looked around again, forgetting which way they had come from. “I… I don’t know yet.”

“Great.” Frustrated and close to passing out again, Y/N dropped his hand and spun around. “What is happening?”

Dean winced. He could hear the breakdown in her voice. That moment everyone went through when they figured out the worst day of their life was about to get way worse. He sighed and watched her spin out, sad for her but unable to do much until she worked through it.

“I go out for a few drinks and-” She closed her eyes tight as the night washed over her. “That guy- he fucking-” Her hands flew to her head. “He must have drugged me and then… he was…” Her right hand slid down to her throat, gingerly dabbing at the two tiny holes below her jaw. She pulled back and looked down at the flakes of blood that clung to her fingertips. “He-”

Dean watched her shoulders tense, her breath quicken. She shook her head.

“No. No. No fucking way. That’s not possible! It’s not- he wasn’t-”

He cleared his throat and crossed his arms, waiting patiently.

“Go on,” he urged gently.

“And the others- the redhead and the bartender they-”

“Mhm…” Dean shook his head slowly. He had found their bodies a few moments before stumbling upon Y/N.

“They’re dead.” Y/N grabbed her stomach as if she might puke. “They’re dead because-”

“Almost there…”

“Because that guy…”

Dean leaned in, slightly amused by the gears he imagined turning in her head. “Was a…”

Y/N’s frame went limp and her soul seemed to drop. “Vampire.”

Dean snapped his fingers. “There it is. Good job.” He moved forward to take her hand once more but Y/N flinched away.

“No! This cannot be happening!”

Dean rolled his eyes. “I’m sorry but it is. That guy from the bar is a bloodsucking asshole and he’s coming to finish you off. That is, if you don’t let me get you outta here.” Again, he reached for her hand, and this time she let him have it, squeezing tight.

She gaped up at him. “A vampire.”

“Yeah.”

Her eyes went wide as she stared off over his shoulder. “A vampire.”

Dean sighed. “I know this is hard to deal with but-”

Y/N yanked his arm hard and tugged him closer, frantically pointing with the other hand. “No! A vampire. Behind you!”

The moment stretched out between them like contrails, visible but nothing, there then gone, fading into the atmosphere.

Y/N stared into the green eyes that so often haunted her dreams. Those eyes she saw when nightmares overtook her evenings or when she turned her mind back to lovers past. The eyes she spent too long praying would sweep over her face just one more time.

Her cheeks burned. Her heart skipped a beat and then another until a pain in her chest made her take a deep breath.

He recognized her. She knew it in the way his lips parted slightly with surprise, the way he blinked a few too many times to clear his vision lest she be a phantom.

She smiled softly and he returned it, dipping down so he could look up through impossibly thick lashes and break her heart all over again.

Dean swung and the vampire ducked, springing back up to swat at Dean as if he were an irritating insect and nothing more.

The way he spun around was impressive. Y/N stared in awe as Dean turned on his heel and pulled a long blade from beneath his leather jacket. It was like watching an action movie. The slow-motion was in her head, but the sound effects were real and so was the machete.

“You murdered my husband!” the man yelled, his deep voice bellowing through the empty room.

Dean looked up from the ground and touched the back of his hand to the corner of his mouth, dabbing at the cut and fresh crimson leaking free. “Husband, huh?” He laughed and rolled to his knees. “Didn’t think this town had much of a gay scene.”

The vampire sneered, revealing a mouth of vicious teeth. He growled and Dean popped up onto his boots, charging forward again.

Y/N felt as if her feet were glued to the cement, encased in fear and indecision.

She should run, that much she knew, but something held her there. Something told her that running was pointless. If she was going down, she’d go with a fight.

When Dean next hit the floor, the vampire turned his gaze upon Y/N and her stomach flipped. Her feet magically moved and she rushed forward as if puppeted by some Hollywood stuntman. She landed a punch, but it was mocked by a deep, blood-thick laugh and a return that knocked her to her knees.

“Y/N! Just run!” Dean was valiant, coming up behind the monster with tight fists and a shining blade.

“I’m not leaving you!” she yelled back. She meant it, but the justification was blurry. She didn’t know him, didn’t really owe him anything. What was keeping her from running away like a spring doe being stalked by a hunter?

In the brief moment when Dean looked at her, the upper hand was lost. The sweet smirk was knocked off of his freckled face and he hit the floor in a painful crash of flesh and denim.

Moved by some fateful force, the machete slid across the floor and landed at Y/N’s feet.

Her eyes narrowed on Dean who could barely lift his head as cartoon birds circled in his vision. She took a deep breath, squared her shoulders, and lifted the blade, holding it tight. Her knuckles turned white with the force and she reared back, ready to strike.

From the ground, Dean watched her attack. “Neck! Go for the neck!”

Feeling a step away from superhero status, Y/N swung with all the force left in her body. She closed her eyes as the sharp edge found its target and nearly retched when it slid through flesh.

The vampire roared in annoyance rather than pain. Y/N peeked an eye open to discover that the machete had made contact, but not much more, only penetrating about an inch into the vampire’s neck. She grimaced and yanked the handle, pulling the blade free.

Blood shot from the wound and Y/N gagged at the garnet fountain.

“I’m sorry!” she screamed, not sure to whom. If the vampire wasn’t pissed enough already, he was sure to rip her to shreds now.

As the fiend stumbled, Dean regained his wind and appeared at Y/N’s side.

“Takes a bit more force than you might think,” he said with a reassuring wink as he took the blade from her hand. “Gotta put your whole ass into it.”

Y/N hung back and stared while Dean demonstrated.

The vampire’s head rolled free from its pedestal and landed at her feet just like the machete had.

She swallowed hard. “I’m gonna throw up.”

Dean stood over the collapsed corpse and wiped the blade on his jeans. “Yeah, but you learned something.”

“Yeah,” she laughed, in shock and exhausted. “That the world is fucked.”

“Mhm.” Dean grinned and hopped over the body to stand by her side. “And what else?”

“Never half-ass a beheading?”

“Yep!” His wink was breathtaking. Even covered in blood and bruised, he was stunningly handsome and Y/N held her breath for a long moment.

“Dean?”

“Yeah?”

“Take me home before I lose my mind…”

He couldn’t help but stare. It was almost unbelievable that she was there. After a decade, how was it that they randomly found each other again? Had she always been here, waiting tables and waiting on him? Did some turn of fate drag them together again?

Y/N exhaled gently and Dean sucked it in, breathing in the sweet air around her: coffee and french fries, and a hint of apple shampoo.

Time slowed down for them both and caught in its warm embrace, there was no other vision but the gentle smile on her lips, no other sound but the sigh she let loose.

Sam broke the trance, clearing his throat and starting the clock again. The earth seemed to lurch forward and Dean felt a pit in his stomach.

“Um, yeah, hi.” Sam looked up at Y/N, trying to remain kind but annoyed to be interrupted.

Y/N jumped back into herself and set the menus down unceremoniously. “Hi.”

Her eyes never left Dean and Sam wasn’t thrilled. He rolled his eyes and turned over the ceramic coffee cup next to the napkin holder before tapping the edge.

“Coffee. Please?”

Dean wanted to kick him, to castrate his rude brother with a switch shot under the table, but he held back, content to get lost in the memory of her.

“Sure.” She shook herself and smiled at Sam. “Sorry.”

“You don’t have to stand in the hall, Dean,” she said with a small laugh.

Y/N ripped her keys from the apartment door and stepped inside. The lamps on either side of a lumpy purple couch were on and the small living area was bright. She sighed, happy to be home, and then gestured for Dean to enter.

He nodded with a smile and ducked his head as he stepped in, as if unsure of the height of the ceiling.

“Someone else home?”

She squinted in confusion. “No?”

“Ah. You left the lights on,” he observed, pointing at the lamps. They didn’t match and the shades were dusty, but it added to the effect, casting a soft light on a room full of hometown memories and highschool dreams lost long ago.

Y/N toed her shoes off and shrugged. “I keep them on so the bad guys think I’m home. Guess I should have realized that bad guys are outside too, huh?” Her focus faded as she spoke and her fingers pressed into the wound at her neck. “Is- is this all real?”

Dean chewed his bottom lip and sighed. “Unfortunately.”

“How do I- you- I mean… how am I supposed to deal with this?”

Green eyes swept her pretty face. He felt sad for her, but knew she’d be able to handle it. She was strong. Not strong enough to gank a vamp, but not bad enough for a first try.

“Well,” he said, pursing his lips to hide a sly smile. “I drink…”

Y/N smiled. “That I can do.”

She fetched too cold, brown bottles from the tiny fridge. Dean popped the caps free with a flick of his ring and Y/N stared at him in wonder. He was a mess. His jacket was too big, his jeans were ripped and falling down. Blood was smeared on his face and his hands were filthy. Still, he was cute. More than cute, if she was being honest, and she felt her face heat up whenever he looked at her for longer than a fleeting second.

He cleared his throat. “Here’s to not being dead.”

Dean raised his bottle and she tapped hers against it.

“Here, here.”

The necklace around his neck was twisted, and Y/N reached up to fix it, gently turning the cord until the knot was back in place against the nape of his neck. Her fingertips brushed through the short hairs on his neck and Dean sucked in a deep breath of her.

“Apples,” he whispered, startling her.

Y/N blinked up at him. “What?”

“You uh-” He looked away, feeling shy, knowing his cheeks were red. “You smell like apples.”

“That’s my shampoo,” she explained, dragging her hand down his shoulders and across, making sure the small, bronze pendant was centered. “I’m surprised you can smell it, I’m covered in muck.”

“The blood just adds to it,” he teased.

Her palm pressed against his heart and Dean wondered if she could feel it pounding away inside. He wanted to reach for her, to push his hand through her hair and drag her close, kiss away the trauma of the night, and lay her down.

Y/N felt it too, that undeniable urge to press up on her toes and lick deep into his mouth, but nerves pulled her away.

She let out a hard breath and backed away.

“I should shower,” she said, turning away and shattering the moment.

Dean shifted on his feet and looked over his shoulder at the door. “Yeah, I should probably get going…”

“No!” Y/N gasped at her aggressive tone and laughed. “I mean, just- don’t? You can, um… shower after me. I’ll be quick. I just- I…” She looked down at her feet and bit her lip, innocent and alluring all at once. “I don’t wanna be alone right now.”

His heart ached. “OK. Yeah. I uh, I’ll stay.”

He should have run. Should have dropped her off and left. Why did he have to walk her to the door? Why did he have to step inside? Why didn’t he kiss her?

Y/N smiled. “Thank you, Dean.”

Y/N knew she was breathing heavily but she couldn’t control it. She tried to hold it as she filled the small white mug. The steam and her shaking hand made it hard to keep from spilling, but amazingly, she got through.

Dean was staring, she could feel it.

Was he going to say anything? Did she have to be the one?

Maybe he doesn’t remember. Maybe she got something wrong.

When she looked back, the green told her everything she needed to know.

Y/N took a long sip of her beer. “Honestly, if you traveled back in time to tell twelve-year-old me that vampires were real, she would have been ecstatic.”

Thirty minutes later, the entire room smelled like apples and they sat on the ugly purple couch together, clean and damp from the hot shower.

“And now?”

“Not so much.”

Dean laughed and drained his bottle. “I wish I could tell you it gets easier, but somehow, the more you know, the worst it gets.”

Y/N considered his words and took her last sip. “So this is your life? You run around saving damsels in distress and killing bloodsuckers like Buffy?”

“Buffy? No. I could kick Buffy’s ass.”

Y/N laughed. “Yeah, right…”

She leaned forward and took his bottle, placing it with hers on the coffee table. The big shirt she wore gaped at the neck and Dean tried his best not to look, only sneaking a quick peek.

He adjusted his own collar, tugging it away from his throat. Either he wasn’t breathing too well or the cotton was shrinking. “Thanks for the clothes by the way.”

Y/N sat back. “Of course. Couldn’t have you running around naked.”

His mouth went dry.

“They’re my brother’s, if you’re wondering.” She leaned back and hugged her arms around her chest. “There’s no… guy or anything.”

He had been wondering and now his thoughts ran amuck. “Ah. Cool.”

“And you? You got a girl back home… wherever home is?”

Dean smiled sadly and shook his head. Where the hell was home? “Nope. No girls. Just me…”

“That’s too bad…”

Her voice trailed off at the end in a sweet whisper that had him leaning a bit closer. The ends of the couch were too far apart, driving them both mad.

Y/N shivered suddenly and quickly rubbed the back of her arms.

“Cold?”

Dean’s voice was lush with concern and she smiled shyly.

“A little…”

He opened his arms and she scooted across the cushions to settle against him. He was warm and solid; so gentle when he reached his left arm over her shoulder. His fingers hovered as if afraid to land before gingerly falling to cover her arm.

She sucked in a breath at the touch and Dean stiffened.

“Is that OK?”

She bit her bottom lip and nodded. “Yeah.”

His grip tightened; his breath calmed.

Y/N curled into him and laid her hand on his chest. It was intimate and delicate but Dean didn’t flinch. He closed his eyes and turned into her, resting his chin atop her head. Warmth and shampoo filled his senses and he sighed, content for the first time in a long time.

There were no screeching tires or screaming victims; no geysers of blood, no singed flesh.

It was peaceful. It was incredible.

Her fingers curled, bunched up the fabric of the plain white t covering him. She cuddled closer, needing him to take all the pain and fear away, wanting him to know how much she wanted him.

“You saved my life today,” she said softly as her nails danced across the dip in his clavicle.

Dean’s brain clouded with desire and he exhaled through puckered lips, trying to stay calm.

“That’s my job.”

“Another hour and I’d be dead.”

His arm tensed on her shoulder, drawing her even closer. “I don’t wanna think about that.”

She looked up at him, pretty eyes dimmed with arousal. “Me either.”

Heart pounding, he took a chance and dipped down to kiss her lips. It was slow and soft, dangerously electric. His right hand found her cheek; his thumb brushed over her lashes.

“Is this OK?” he asked, still somehow unsure even as she kissed him back.

Her breath swept across his plump bottom lip. “Yes.”

She tugged at his shirt again and parted her lips, dragging in a deep breath of him. He kissed her a second time and her eyes fluttered as sparks ran down her spine. He sucked at her lip, licked deep inside, whispered her name like a prayer.

Y/N against him and he lost his mind, shifting in his seat to push her back and loom over her. His hand trailed down her side and across her belly before slowly moving upwards. He pressed the flat of his palm against her breast and Y/N arched up into it.

“This OK?”

She laughed inside a moan and nodded. “Yeah…”

His fingers closed and she melted.

“Fuck…”

Dean kissed across her jaw, blew a hot breath over the outer shell of her ear. She tugged at his shoulders, dug her nails into his smooth skin, held her breath as he plucked at her nipple.

She was dizzy on his kisses, drunk on the heat between them. When he slid his hand to her thigh she sucked in a quick breath that gave him pause.

“Is this OK?” he asked again.

Gently laughed at his nerves, Y/N grabbed his wrist and pressed his fingers against her damp panties. “Yes.”

He rubbed a firm circle over her covered pussy. “And this?”

She spread her legs and nodded. “Yes.”

Through the thin cotton, he pressed his middle finger against her hole. “This?”

She shuddered. “Fuck. Yes!”

“What about-”

She stopped him cold, sitting up to grab his neck and pull his lips back to hers.

“What about you fuck me, Dean.” She licked at his mouth and his eyes glazed over with desire. “Is that OK?”

Dumbstruck, he nodded blankly.

“Good.”

She winked and his fate was sealed.

His mind was reeling but his lips were failing him. Say something, you idiot!

He couldn’t move, couldn’t even blink lest she was a phantom and he had finally lost his mind.

They hung there in silence as the eons stretched out around them. It wasn’t slow motion, it was worse. Time had stopped entirely. There was only the two of them, existing in a void of remembrance and hope.

Exhausted and sated, they lay on the floor, catching their breaths and fighting sleep.

Y/N tugged a crocheted blanket off the arm of the couch and fanned it out to cover them both. Dean bent his arm and tucked the throw pillow under his head.

Y/N snuggled her back into his side and Dean draped his right arm over the perfect curve of her waist.

Her hand covered his; their fingers fit together like the gears of a watch.

A watch that he’d have to check soon.

As if she could sense their time running out, Y/N squeezed his arm tight around her and sighed.

“Stay? Just for the night?”

He swallowed down all the usual lies; pushed away his father’s condemning voice calling him back.

“Yeah.” He pressed a kiss into her hair and bent his knees behind hers. “For the night.”

A yawn shook her and Y/N’s eyes fluttered closed. She smiled and wiggled against him, safe and happy, at least for a moment.

“We should get some breakfast later,” she sang, half in the arms of sleep. “I’m starving.”

Dean closed his eyes and wished he could stay.

Y/N’s breathing slowed and Dean laid awake, focusing on each rise and fall of her chest. He looked around the small room and wondered if he could ever really stay. Was there a chance here? A chance with her? Some magical new life waiting for him if he just took a leap of faith? Could she be the place he could finally call home?

No. It could never be. She wasn’t some ethereal beauty sent by God to tempt him away from his life. She was just a distraction. A beautiful, intoxicating distraction. And no matter what he felt in that moment, he knew it wasn’t love, it was comfort. It wasn’t forever, only momentary.

He was gone before the sun rose.

Sam reached for a menu and pursed his lips at the slow service.

Y/N blinked to clear her head. She took a breath and smiled kindly at Dean.

“And what about you? Can I get you anything?”

Her voice rang through him like a church bell, calling him back home. Maybe there was a reason they chose this case, in this part of the country, in this sleepy town.

Dean smiled and took a leap.

“I don’t know but… I think I owe you breakfast…”

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dean-winchester-is-a-warrior · 10 months ago

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The Dangers of Hope Ch. 1

Series Summary: When Y/N shows up at Camp Chitaqua with her little girl in tow, her bloodshot eyes leave no doubt that she's infected. Or is she? Everything Dean has come to know for certain over the last five hellish years, is about to be challenged.

Pairings/Characters in the series: Endverse!Dean x Reader, Emma (OFC), Castiel, Sam Winchester, Lucifer, Michael, Zachariah, Risa, Johnston (OMC), Patrick (OMC) other survivors and soldiers.

Series Explicit 18 +/Warnings: Show level violence, some gore, angst, smut, fluff all the usual for a series of mine. ❤️ Endverse!Dean (that's a warning for his anger and callousness as well as his extreme hotness. 😁) Each chapter will have their own specific warnings.

Chapter Warnings: Not much in this first chapter. Some mentions of death and violence. I don't want to give away everything, but there are also some angsty mother/daughter moments, so be warned.

Word Count: 3468

A/N: So, I've had this idea for quite a while. Basically since I watched The Last of Us. I loved Pedro in the role of Joel, but I kept thinking how incredible Jensen would have been. Which then made me think of how amazing he was as Endverse!Dean which then led me to this idea. Lol! I've stolen the premise of Ellie's storyline from TLOU, but made her a grown up, a reader insert, and a love interest for Dean.

If you've never seen TLOU, don't worry - you don't need to have seen it to understand this story. 😊

I've taken some liberties with the Endverse in my story, changed a few things from canon, but kept lots of things too.

I sincerely hope you enjoy the story. It will be ten chapters and I will do my very best to post one chapter every weekend. ❤️

The divider at the top and bottom were created by @saradika

Series Master List

Dean punched open the flap of the canvas tent that he'd called home for the last several years. Sometimes he really missed having a door to slam.

Or a wall to punch a hole through, he thought as he tossed down his duffel bag full of weapons. At least the bag made a satisfying thunk against the plywood floor.

They'd lost three men on their latest raid. The raid was successful; they'd pilfered enough medication from a pharmacy in Omaha to see them through the next few months. But the reason it was the only pharmacy within a two hundred mile radius that had any meds left, was because it also happened to be Croat central.

It was swarming with the bastards. His soldiers had done a good job holding them off, but it had eventually led to ground fighting and three soldiers had been bitten. He'd put them down quick and quiet. But it made for a long drive home.

Home, he scoffed as he dropped onto the side of his cot. Home my ass.

As he rubbed his hand across his forehead, his tent flap opened again. He also missed privacy.

One of the soldiers that had been left behind to protect the camp, stood awkwardly for a moment before Dean barked at him.

“Not now, Johnston.”

“Uh…” the man hemmed and hawed for a moment more. “There's a…an urgent situation, sir.”

Dean let out a huff. “There's always an urgent fucking situation. I said ‘not now’!” Dean's voice was sharp and angry. All he wanted was five minutes.

Used to having his orders obeyed, especially when they were issued in his harshest tone, Dean turned away and started to light the lamp beside his cot. Before he could spark the match however, Johnston was clearing his throat annoyingly.

“Jesus Christ, what?” Dean snapped.

“I'm sorry, sir…but Castiel, well he…he has a…a situation with a woman.”

Dean’s glare could melt ice. “What woman?”

“I think…he wants - he said he wanted to see you as soon as you were back.”

Dean ground his teeth together and tossed down the matchbook. He gestured angrily for Johnston to lead the way.

He followed the timid man through a maze of tents, aware of the eyes that followed him. He was used to that feeling. People in the camp always looked at him like that - with a mixture of awe and fear on their faces. To most of the survivors he was a little bit legend, a little bit savior, and a whole lot scary.

He was always given a wide berth.

But something more was in the air today. The evening breeze seemed to be buzzing with whispers that followed him up the stairs and into the main hall. It was one of the only wooden structures in the camp, and definitely the biggest. It was where they all gathered together when they needed to.

He pushed through the squeaky door to find the angel standing in the middle of the room, just in front of one of the dozen massive, twenty-person, metal tables that had been constructed for large group projects like bomb making, or supply divvying.

Dean tried to look past Cas when it became obvious there was a person behind him, sitting on the floor. But Cas just shifted so he couldn't see whoever it was, which only made Dean’s scowl intensify. Cas held out his hands towards him.

“Okay, Dean. now just listen.”

Dean didn’t like the sound of that, or the placating tone the angel was taking. “What the fuck is going on here, Cas?” He tried again to peer around him at the person on the floor, but Cas shifted his footing again to keep them hidden.

“You have to…before you do anything, just,,,you have to look at her. Really look.”

He moved out of the way slightly and Dean could finally see a woman sitting on the ground. Her head was bent and around her wrists were manacles connected to heavy chains that yoked her to the immoveable table. Dean was about to once again ask what the hell was going on when the woman looked up at him and he saw her eyes - saw the perfect, blood red circle around her iris.

Dean’s razor sharp instincts reacted without conscious thought, and his gun was out of his thigh holster and cocked, with his finger ready to pull the trigger in under two seconds. It was only Cas jumping in front of the woman again that managed to just stop him firing.

But Dean kept his gun pointing at the woman’s head, even though it was now hidden on the other side of the angel's body.

“What the fuck is the matter with you?” He bellowed at the man who used to be his best friend, back when he still had friends. “She’s infected! Get out of the fucking way!”

Cas had his hands up again and was shaking his head. “No, Dean, look at her. Yes, her eyes show she should be infected, and yes she was bitten, but…just look at her. She’s not infected.”

Dean’s jaw ticked with his fury. “Yeah well, give it a couple hours and she’ll be strong enough to bust those fucking chains. Now, move!” He roared again.

But Cas took a step backwards, closer to the woman on the ground. “No, it’s been days.” He looked over his shoulder. “Right?”

The woman’s voice was soft. “Almost a week.”

Dean scoffed. “Bullshit!” He shouted, unable to believe the angel’s naivete. “She’s lying.”

Cas was shaking his head and looking at Dean again. “Her arm, where she was bitten, it’s healed up.” He called back to her. “Hold your arm out.”

The chains rattled and Dean saw a slightly grubby arm stick out from behind Cas’ legs. Sure enough there was a bite on the outside of her forearm that looked pretty much healed. Dean felt something uncertain shift in his belly, but he shook it off. He knew better.

“So she’s a quick healer. She’ll still turn into a monster sooner or later. Now. Move.” He gave Cas a glare that had made lesser men crumble. But the angel refused.

“No, Dean, this might be something huge.”

Dean opened his mouth to argue, but the woman’s small voice spoke first. “Please. I just needed to get my daughter to safety.”

Dean leveled another glare at Cas. “Daughter?” He asked.

The woman continued speaking and Dean tried to see any part of her around Cas’ body. “We were living in the Billings camp near Piedmont, Emma and I. We’d been there just a few months when the camp was attacked. They lost a lot of people, and I got bitten. When the fighting ended and the Croats were all dead, the leaders started checking us all for bites. I knew they were going to kill me and I understood what had to happen, but I wanted them to promise Emma would be safe, but they wouldn’t.”

Dean’s hand had lowered slightly, enough that Cas shifted aside again so Dean could see the woman talking. There were tears falling from her bloodshot eyes and she lifted the heavy chains so she could wipe them away before continuing.

“She'd fallen on some debris in the mess, long after the Croats had been put down, and she had a scratch on her leg. They were sure she was infected too. But she’s not.” She shook her head vehemently. “They were going to kill her. I…I couldn’t let them. So I shoved them down, fought them off, grabbed Emma and ran. We’ve been running for almost a week. I’d heard about this camp, so I headed this way. I was terrified I was going to change before I could get Emma to some semblance of safety. But…it just never happened.”

She shrugged and shifted slightly. Her movement brought the barrel of Dean’s gun back up a fraction of an inch. She stared at the pistol for a moment and then caught his eye again. “I just wanted somewhere for her to be safe. I understand that you want me dead. I’m…” Her throat caught and she closed her eyes and took in a deep, steadying breath. “But….” She opened her eyes again and a slight smile curved her lips.

“You don’t…you probably don’t remember me, but a long time ago - I was barely sixteen - you…you saved me.”

Dean knew he must not have hidden his surprise very well when her smile deepened. It occurred to Dean in that moment that she was really, remarkably beautiful, in spite of the dirt and the bloodshot eyes.

“My family I mean,” she continued, “you saved my family. You and your dad. We lived in Wichita at the time. We had a poltergeist. It was…it was cutting me. It carved words into me.” She put a hand on her stomach. “Words like ‘vengeance’ and ‘death’.”

She shook her head. “I was so terrified. But you and John, you just swept in and got rid of the thing in a weekend. It was amazing.”

The long-forgotten case bubbled up in Dean’s mind. It felt separate from him, apart, as though centuries had passed in between, instead of a dozen years. But he remembered a young girl, a sweet kid with braces on her teeth and overwhelming fear in her eyes. He nodded. Yes, he remembered that smile now.

She wore it still as she shook her head and looked down. “It was a long time ago, a lifetime seems like, so I’m sure you don’t remember. But I still remember how Dean Winchester came and saved me.” She looked up at him again and her tears had returned. “So, I’m asking you to please, please save me again.”

Dean felt the same something as before, something that shifted in his gut, that felt tight and constricting. But he pushed it away and shook his head.

“You’re wrong, Y/N.” He said, as her name came back to him. He could see the surprise on her face. “I do remember you. I remember the poltergeist. I remember your family, your house. And I remember saving you.”

He paused and let the memories retreat from his mind’s eye before he clenched his jaw. “But you’re right, it was a lifetime ago,” he shook his head, “and I’m not that guy anymore.”

He raised his gun and took a step forward aiming for a quick, straight bullet to the head, faster than blinking.

But as though time slowed down, he saw a blur of motion coming in from the side and several things happened at the exact same time. Y/N screamed and dove as far to the right as her chains would allow, Cas jumped forward to stop him, and Dean yanked his gun up at the very last millisecond before his finger flexed on the trigger, just as he saw the blur come into focus.

It was a sobbing, shaking little girl, in a tattered blue dress. Her long brown hair was pulled back into a braid and tied with a faded piece of lace. Y/N had leapt towards the child to shield her as the little one had flung herself in front of her mother. Y/N was now cradling her daughter in her arms.

Cas kept his hand like a vice grip on Dean’s shoulder where he’d grabbed him in an attempt to stop him. Though he wouldn’t have reached him in time. A feeling surged through Dean that he hadn’t felt in a long time as he breathed in and out harshly, as though he’d run a mile.

Two of his soldiers, Risa and Patrick, ran in seconds later, ashen faced and staring at the little girl. Dean yelled at them. “Why the fuck did you let her in here?”

Risa shook her head. “She got away from us.”

“Got away from you?” He continued to shout. “She’s a little girl!”

When they didn't respond he gritted his teeth and spoke through them. “Why don’t you go see if you can handle all forty pounds of her this time.” He said, motioning with his gun for them to go get her.

As they moved to follow his orders he acknowledged what it was that had his heart beating triple time and his lungs unable to suck in enough air.

It was fear. The forgotten, acidic taste of it was on his tongue. It had been a very long time since he’d been afraid of anything. But knowing he’d been less than a second away from firing a bullet into the body of an innocent, uninfected kid - that truth had him rattled. As did Emma’s heart-rending cries as she clung to her mother.

Risa and Patrick had reached Y/N, but looked hesitant to rip the child away from her mother. Y/N was pulling on Emma’s arms and she finally managed to unlock their death grip from around her neck.

“Baby, shh.” She said softly as she brushed the little girl’s wispy hairs out of her face and cupped her ruby red cheeks. “It’s okay, sweetheart. It’s okay, you’re gonna be safe - “

Emma cut her off with a wail. “Noooo! Noooo! Mommy, I don’t wanna go.”

Y/N was shaking her head. “Hey, hey. No, sweetheart listen, listen to me. We made it here and now you’re safe.” She began nodding as Emma shook her head. “Yes, baby. Look at me, look at me, just breathe.” She said, and Emma began sucking in shuddering, choking breaths.

Y/N smiled and kissed her daughter’s forehead. “You are so brave. Okay? I just need you to keep being so brave. Can you do that? Hmm?” Y/N questioned, nodding even though Emma was shaking her head in denial.

Dean caught Patrick’s eye and gave a sharp nod towards the horrifying scene. He needed them to get the kid out of there. Patrick nodded back, but still didn’t move to take her. Dean seethed.

“I love you so much.” Y/N said, her voice breaking now, but she cleared her throat quickly and continued. “I love you bigger than big.” She was staring into her daughter’s eyes. “Bigger than big.” She repeated.

“And taller than tall?” Emma asked in a strangled voice, obviously repeating an often used sentiment.

Y/N was nodding. “And taller than tall.” She confirmed. She gave her daughter a final smile of encouragement, her palms still clasped on her flushed, wet cheeks. “You - are my little angel.” She told her before pulling her against her chest one more time, trying to squeeze a lifetime of love into the small body she held.

Dean tried to keep his features in check as Y/N looked up at him. He wouldn’t bend. She needed to get her kid out of there. Y/N sniffed and pulled back from Emma. “Okay, baby. You need to go with…”

She looked up at Risa, obviously looking for a name. “Risa.” The soldier replied kindly.

Y/N gave her a grateful smile and directed her words up at her. “Go with Risa, she’ll look out for you.” It was obviously a question for the other woman, a plea. Risa gave a curt nod of agreement.

Emma was still sobbing as Y/N lifted her out of her lap and let Risa take her away. The little girl screamed and reached back for her mother and Dean saw the way Y/N flinched as she raised her manacled wrist and pressed her fingers to her lips before sending a parting kiss to her daughter.

As the child disappeared her screams still echoed, and Y/N slumped, covering her face, her shoulders shaking.

Dean swallowed down the feelings that tried to rise in him as he watched her weep. Every person who died left someone behind to grieve them. If they were lucky. And this situation was no different. Their camp had more than a dozen orphaned kids. Emma would be no different.

But as Y/N took a shuddering breath and looked up at him, he knew he was lying. Her words to Emma had resonated in his memory, pulling forth the image of his mother’s warm hands on his cheeks after he sought to comfort her, told her he loved her and would never leave her.

“You - are my little angel.” She’d said, her voice full of love.

And another moment, in the dark, cuddled against his mother’s chest as she held him after a nightmare, just days before the fire. Her voice had been so gentle, so soft.

“I know you’re scared, Dean, and that’s okay. Cause I know you’re so brave too. Can you show me how brave you are?”

Y/N’s last words to her daughter echoed some of the last words he remembered from his mother and he would be lying if he said it wasn’t affecting him. But as Y/N stared up at him, he tried desperately to shake it off. It changed nothing.

Y/N’s voice cracked as she tried to speak; she cleared it before trying again. “Thank you, Dean. For keeping her here, for giving her somewhere safe to be.”

Dean shook his head. “Nowhere is somewhere safe to be.”

He could see Y/N’s fear spring back up, and he shrugged. “But she can stay here, and have the protection of the camp. For whatever that’s worth.”

Y/N nodded and closed her eyes. “Thank you.” She repeated in a whisper, and then, without opening her eyes, “I’m ready.”

Cas gripped his shoulder again. “Dean, don’t do this.” He said, his low voice barely a whisper.

Dean shrugged off his hand and stepped closer to Y/N, close enough that he couldn’t possibly miss, so that it would be instant and painless.

He felt Cas’ disappointment and anger looming over him as he extended his arm. The muzzle of the gun was less than two feet from its target. Dean cocked it again and felt his stomach swoop at Y/N’s soft, quick inhale.

His finger caressed the trigger, a breath away from pulling it when from nowhere his little brother’s voice floated into his mind, a snippet of conversation he hadn’t thought of in almost a decade - from the first time they’d ever seen the virus.

“You know I’m gonna ask you why.” Sam had said, referring to the man Dean had left alive.

“Yeah, I know.”

“So, why? Why didn’t you do it?”

He hadn’t answered his brother then; he’d been too embarrassed to say that there had been something in his soul that wouldn’t let him shoot someone who wasn't yet a monster, even if it seemed inevitable that they would be.

But now, that same creeping feeling, that same cloying sense of wrong was pulling at his soul again. It shocked him and angered him that his soul was still capable of this dithering - this pansy-assed wavering - when his head knew without a doubt what had to be done.

With the same sick, frustrated feeling, however, Dean felt his arm drop. “Dammit.” He growled, just as he had then.

He backed away and saw Y/N’s eyes pop open, saw relief flood them just before he turned and stormed away. He barreled out of the cabin and heard Cas shout after him. But he kept marching forward, trying to get himself far away from the memories that had come there to haunt him.

But with every step away from camp, with every inch he walked into the surrounding forest, his mother and brother’s faces became clearer in his mind until he finally just stopped abruptly. Giving a shout of pure fury, Dean pointed his gun at the dead leaves on the ground and unloaded his clip into the moist earth.

He was panting, teeth clenched, as he sensed someone approaching. He whirled around, instinctively pointing his empty gun towards the noise. But he immediately put it down when he saw it was Cas.

Instead he walked up to him and shoved the angel backwards; though even with his powers gone, he didn’t move very far.

“Don’t fucking follow me.” Dean growled at him.

But Cas just stared at him and then a smile spread across his face. Dean scowled thunderously. “What the fuck could you possibly be smiling about?”

Cas shook his head and shrugged. “I just… thought he was gone, but he’s still there. Haven’t seen him in a long time.’

Dean’s expression was confused and pissed. “Thought who was gone?”

“My friend - Dean Winchester. I thought he was well and truly gone.” He repeated. “But it’s so good to see him again.” The angel’s brilliant blue eyes were beaming so bright, they almost seemed to be alight with grace once more.

Jensen RPF and Any/All Characters:

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#dean winchester #endverse!dean x reader #endverse!dean #dean winchester smut #dean winchester fluff #dean winchester angst #endverse #spn fan fiction series #the dangers of hope

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inevitably-johnlocked · 3 months ago

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Five Fics Friday: August 23/24

Happy Friday everyone!! Finally going on my 2 week holidays, so I'm glad I have some great fics I can read if I get bored!! Check out what's on my radar this week! Enjoy!!

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Serenity After the Turmoil (Part 2) by jawnscoffee (G, 2,467 w., 1 Ch. || Dreams, Nightmares, Sherlock's Violin) – John had always been someone with a vivid imagination - especially when it came to dreams. Nightmares, to be precise. This causes him a lot of trouble, especially after returning from the war. The only thing that calms him down is when Sherlock plays his violin. When John wakes up one night from another nightmare, he hears Sherlock playing the violin and decides to keep him company. Maybe he can't sleep either. Or maybe he's just playing the violin for John...

You Don't Live Here Anymore by elwinglyre (E, 3,104+ w., 1/5 Ch. || WiP || S4 Fix It, Angst, Bees, First Time, Third Person Alternating POV) – The lyrics of a song John introduced to Sherlock, haunts him. Sherlock leaves 221b because he can’t bring himself to live there alone without John. Mary is dead, and John still blames Sherlock. It takes a small tragedy to shake John into action. Will he come on home?

A Thrill Failed To Deliver by J_Baillier (E, 9,897+ w., 3/25 Ch. || WiP || Pre-TRF Divergence, Angst, Medical Hurt/Comfort, Serious Illnesses, POV John, Brain Cancer/Tumour, Medical Conditions, Romance, Slow Burn, Doctor John, Miscommunication, Meddling Mycroft, Everyone is a Mess, Harry Watson, Friends to Lovers, Strooppy Sherlock, John's Identity Crisis, Clueless Idiots in Love, Vulnerable Sherlock, Mental Breakdown, Sherlock Whump, Medical Realism) – When The Work is replaced with chemotherapy and restaurant dinners with radiation treatment, will a new, devastating normal bring John and Sherlock closer, or drive them apart — as Sherlock seems convinced it will?

Holy Wine by Silvergirl (E, 36,699 w., 13 Ch. || Sherlock/OMC & Johnlock || TEH Divergence, Addiction, Alcoholism, POV Sherlock, Mutual Pining, Sex Replacing Getting High, Angst with Happy Ending) – After Sherlock fails to amaze and delight John at the Landmark, he learns that John’s cut contacts and left London. Sherlock has to start his life over, without the man he gave up everything to save. Sherlock's version of the events of A Case of You. Part 2 of A Case of You

GOOD OMENS

how do we turn on the light? by moonyinpisces (M, 229,988+ w., 18/22 Ch. || WiP || Post-S2, Romance, Slow Burn, Angst with Happy Ending, Light Humour, Supreme Archangel Aziraphale, The Second Coming, Christianity, Drug Use, Book of Life, Death Threats, Suicidal Thoughts, Sex in the Bentley, Duke of Hell Crowley, Character Death) – Aziraphale ascends to the highest level of the Archangels. And he remembers—well. It’s not important what he remembers.

#johnlock fic recs #ineffable husbands fic recs #good omens fic recs #my fic recs #five fics friday

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gallafics · 4 months ago

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𝙶𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚊𝚏𝚒𝚌'𝚜 𝚁𝚎𝚌𝚜

Category — My Comfort Fics (No Major Spoilers)

“The Fight For You” by WishIHadWings

Complete. 45 chapters. 328k words. Explicit Mexico AU. Slow burn. Cheating. Smutty. Angsty. Fluffy. End game but detailed Mickey/OMC. Brief Ian/Trevor.

Beautiful dynamic. Their chemistry is INSANE in this fic. The build up is phenomenal. The reunion sex is chefs kiss perfection. Say what you want but one of my fav tropes is “Mickey/Ian in a relationship and cheating to be with Ian/Mickey.” Parts of this fic are so painful to read, the angst gets ANGSTY in this one. (Full review — coming soon!)

“You can’t hurry love” by @crazynadine (Ao3)

Complete. 43 chapters. 464k words. Explicit. Graphic depictions of violence. Rape/non-con. Angsty. Smutty. Happy ending. Drug abuse. Domestic Violence. Slow burn.

This fic is one I hold so close to my heart. I relate to a lot of things in this fic. With that being said, please read the trigger warning and take care of your mental health when reading as it deals with some pretty heavy themes. Ian and Mickey are both with others but when they give in and finally come back together is literally so beautiful. Definitely a must read! (Full review — coming soon!)

“Silent Pain in Emerald Eyes” by @takeyourpillsbitchh (Ao3)

WIP. 7 chapters. 54k words. Explicit. Graphic depictions of violence. Rape/non-con. Angsty. Suicidal thoughts. PTSD. Mute!Ian Gallagher. Therapist!Mickey. Taboo relationship — therapist/patient. Happy ending. Romantic tension. Sexual tension. Mutual Pining.

This fic being incomplete doesn’t some me from rereading it over and over. This is another that I would say to definitely make sure you read the trigger warning and make sure you’re in a good mental space. It also deals with some pretty heavy themes. Mickey and Ian’s connection in this fic is unmatched for me, they just get each other so well in this one. They both have been through so many traumatizing things and Mickey uses his trauma to help Ian heal from his trauma in a healthy way. It’s quite beautiful. I literally wait with bated breath for the author to update! (Full Review — Coming soon)

“The Crimes Surrounding Ian Gallagher” by RumbleFish14

Rereleased WIP. 11 chapters. 85k words. Graphic depictions of violence. Major character death. Rape/non-con. Underage. Angsty. Smutty. Strangers to lovers. Ghosts. Detective!Mickey. Ghost!Ian. Love at first sight. Murder. Underage sex/relationship. Mystery with a twist.

This is one of the first fics I ever read when I joined the fandom, when I tell you I about peed my pants when I realized the author reuploaded this fic I’m not kidding. I actually squealed. It is a beautiful, intricate, detailed story and writes as a true mystery novel with hints of romance. I do know the ending as I have the original downloaded, and I’m confident to say it’s a happy ending, but I’m not sure if I should upload the download link? I will have to get in touch with the author somehow! Please, give this fic a chance if you feel your mental can handle it, it’s truly an amazing read. (Full review — coming soon)

#for my first rec post I decided to do a few fics I hold near and dear to my heart #my comfort fics #the ones I re read over and over even though I know them word for word #if you like any of these let me know…we can be besties!!#if you haven’t read any of them…definitely check them out!!!#they are all equally amazing!!!#I realize most of these are angsty and dealing with pretty heavy themes #my next set of comfort fics will include some lighter themed fics🩵#gallavich #gallavich fanfic #ian gallagher #mickey milkovich #shameless #gallafics recs 1

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sjsmith56 · 3 months ago

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Bucky Barnes, Deadpool and the TVA (or How I ended up inside the fourth wall)

Summary: A Bucky Barnes fanfiction writer finds herself in the same universe as the Thunderbolts* Bucky when she wakes up in his bed.

Length: 4.1 K

Characters: Unnamed and undescribed OFC, Bucky Barnes, Dr. Strange, Wong, B-15, variant of OFC, OMC (OFC’s husband)

Warnings: some sexual innuendo, naked horny Bucky, no smut (sorry)

Author notes: Just a silly story that I pulled from somewhere in my mind. The part about the OFC and her husband seeing the new Deadpool movie at a matinee was based on real life.

💻 🦾 🛵

The blank page stared at me. It wasn't blank five minutes ago, but I read what I wrote, and didn't like it, so I deleted it and then I was looking at the page again. We met before, you, the reader and me, the writer. I sought help from the very reason I write, Bucky Barnes. The writing gods first sent me World War II Bucky, a sweet flirty guy who was still interested in the stories I wrote. The version that appeared to me was from before Azzano and before the train; that dreadful transport of death that changed his whole life in a moment. Then they sent me the Winter Soldier, the dark brooding villain ... I know, he was more than that, but that was HYDRAs use of him. He was their Fist, brutally carrying out assassinations on targets they assigned him. Relentless and frightening in his attention to his task he was still a sight to see; that tall, dark-haired muscular menace and the way he strutted towards his target. No hesitation, no regrets and totally the object of many fantasies. I still got warm thinking about the ones I read about, never mind wrote. On that day, it was Falcon and the Winter Soldier (FATWS) Bucky who came to my rescue. It was him as he was portrayed at the end of the series, seemingly in a place where he felt at home in Delacroix, becoming part of Sam Wilson's family as their adopted uncle. That Bucky sat with me, helped me through my writer's block, and even gave me an idea for a Black Widow smut piece that was a gift to my husband. Before he left, he said he would always be there for me. At the time, he probably meant it. Then there was a disturbance in the Force.

Wrong franchise, I know, but how else to explain how things seemed to go a bit sideways? There were the What If? episodes, that displayed Bucky as the sidekick to Captain Carter. Those was okay, then he was more of the dark brooding long-hair version of Wakanda Bucky in a zombie wasteland. At least we got to see a cartoon version of him in the shower, from the waist up. Wasn't quite enough to quench the fandom's thirst for him but it was a start. Don't even get me started on the Guardians of the Galaxy Christmas special where Nebula appeared with Bucky's vibranium arm, opening a whole can of worms over whether it was funny (not to me), cute (seriously stealing Bucky's arm is cute?) and canon (no, James Gunn, it wasn't canon to me). Yes, I'm changing the tense in the middle of a paragraph by telling you to don't @ me if you're a believer in any of the three above. To me, all three of those scenarios were just wrong. I got emotional then and I still do.

I wrote since then, some AUs, lots of one shots as I explored that format, several short fiction pieces of less than 50,000 words, and a couple of long ones. It was going well, then they brought out the Captain America 4 announcement that Bucky wouldn't be in it (what?) and the Thunderbolts* announcement that Sam Wilson wouldn't be in that (seriously?). Why did they get us to invest our time and interest in a six-part series about these two men forging a deep friendship if they had no intention of continuing it in their movies? The rumours about Bucky in this upcoming movie littered the pages of tumblr and Twitter (sorry / not sorry X); things like Bucky regressed mentally and emotionally, he and Sam had a falling out, he became a congressman, or he went to work for Val de Fontaine so that he didn't lose his pardon.

Why would they do that to Bucky? Let the man have a fucking life. As you could see I got emotional about it. On that particular day I decided to have a nap and clear my mind, then it all changed.

💤

"Hey, sweetheart." I could hear the voice, then I felt a cold hand around my waist, reaching up under my T-shirt. Jerking away and turning around I found myself in bed with Bucky Barnes, beefy Bucky, with the bad haircut shown in the leaked preview of the Thunderbolts*. "There she is."

He had no shirt on, and I found it hard to look at him, then opened my mouth to speak but nothing came out. I noticed the smirk on his face, which made me feel warm, like really warm, the way the writers of Bucky smut describe it; a warm pool forming in my core, between my thighs, deep in my .... What happened to me? Where was I?

"You okay, doll? You have a nightmare?" His hand cupped my jaw, as he rubbed his thumb on my cheek.

"You're Bucky," I said, still frozen in place, because let's face it, it's not everyday you find yourself in bed with your romantic fantasy.

"Last I checked," he answered, licking his lips then running his hand over the beard he grew since he was in FATWS. "You're my wife."

I pulled away from him, aware that he might not have anything on at all. He looked at me funny.

"You seem different. Tell me you're not a multiverse version of you that's been dropped here."

"I don't know," I answered, pulling the sheet up to cover my front since I realized I wasn't wearing a bra, and my nipples were doing something that was a little disconcerting. "Am I a writer? Are we married? Are you working for Val de Fontaine?"

He laughed, showing those beautiful white teeth, then he leaned close, gently pulling down the sheet and began to nuzzle my neck, making me feel all sorts of things.

"No, yes, and no," he answered. "Come here."

I pulled away so far that I fell out of bed and sat there on the floor with him looking over the edge at me with a decidedly perturbed expression on his face. With only panties on underneath that T-shirt I pulled on the sheet, so I was covered again.

"What's got into you?"

"What's my name, Bucky?"

"Sweetheart, sunshine, baby girl, darlin' and my personal favourite, doll." He was resting his head on his hands, looking at me in a way that was definitely more friendly than I was comfortable with.

"Those aren't names, they're terms of endearment," I answered. "I am married but not to you and you're supposed to be an Avenger, with Sam Wilson."

"Really, just who are you married to and what is your name?" he asked, in a flirting manner. "Gotta say, sunshine, this role-playing thing could be fun."

I told him my husband's name and my name. "I shouldn't be part of the multiverse because it's not real. It's fiction."

He laughed, then saw I wasn't laughing and frowned. Angry Bucky alert. "You have to be from the multiverse. If you're not, where's my wife? Why do you look and sound like her?"

I raised my hands up. "I don't know where she is. I look like her because I write fanfiction of you, and I picture myself in the original female character's role. She usually becomes your love interest. But I had writer's block because Marvel has been messing around with your portrayal and not giving out much information of how they've changed your character. It was bugging me, so I took a nap, then woke up next to you."

"Who's this Marvel guy? Do you think he knows where my wife is?"

He didn't know about the fourth wall, was definitely angry and all I could think of was that he looked just as angry now as he did in that leaked Thunderbolts* footage.

"Marvel's not a guy, it's a corporation that owns the copyright to your character." I winced as I explained it to him, knowing he wasn't liking it. "You're not real, Bucky. You're a fictional character from the comics and the movies they made from it. But you know this already. I've spoken to you in your World War II persona, your Winter Soldier persona and from when you and Sam fought the Flag Smashers. That's called your FATWS era."

I started to explain what the letters meant but he just glared at me, so I stopped. He pulled away from the edge of the bed and got out on the other side, naked, and I did stare, I'll admit it. God, he had a nice ass and the rest of him from the back was... wow. Then he turned to face me, and I looked everywhere but there.

"Get dressed," he ordered. "You're taking me to this Marvel place and I'm going to get my wife back."

"It's not as easy as that," I replied. He stared at me, his arms crossed defiantly in front of him while he was still showing everything the serum gave him. I focused on his face, but it was so hard ... not that, you know what I mean. "If this is a multiverse incursion then there might not be a Marvel in this universe and even if there was it wouldn't be possible to just walk in there. We have to find Dr. Strange. He's the only one who can do anything."

"Fine," he said, "but you're still coming with me. Now get dressed."

Holding the sheet around me I approached the walk-in closet, but he was still standing there, naked, in all of his glory and he smelled so good when I slid past him to see what was available for me to wear. Then he was right behind me, practically pressing himself into me and I had to focus, wondering if I had ever written this much raw physical sexuality into my versions of Bucky but it was difficult to concentrate with him so close.

"You having problems, baby girl?" he asked, his lips so close to my ear that I could feel his warm breath making me moist.

"I don't know what to wear," I mumbled, still painfully aware of his naked body this close to me and I was really only separated from him by a sheet.

"We're going on the motorcycle," he said. "Jeans, T-shirts, and leather jackets."

"Right," I answered, hastily going through the sexy dresses, the long gowns with the thigh-high slits, the almost obscene lingerie, but there were no jeans or T-shirts. "Um, where are they?"

"In the drawers," he grunted. "Don't you have drawers in your universe?"

"Yes," I snapped. "Could you stand further away from me?"

"What's the matter, darlin'? Do I make you uncomfortable?"

"This close to me while naked, yes." I rolled my eyes, which he must have heard because he huffed, but he did move away, and I was able to get out of that small space.

Quickly, I located the drawer that had jeans and pulled them on. They were tighter than anything I ever wore but somehow, I got them on. The bra selection left a lot to be desired as most of it was see through and really didn't offer much support. I must have made a noise while I was searching for something more modest because he was suddenly beside me.

"Having a problem, sweetheart? Don't see anything you like? My wife loves all the lingerie I buy for her."

"It's not my style," I answered. "Doesn't she have something that covers more?"

"Sports bra," he answered. "Bottom drawer."

I pulled it open, thankful to find an assortment of sports bras. Pulling one out I started to take the T-shirt off that I woke up in then became aware of his eyes on me. Turning around I was startled to see him reclining on the bed, propped up on one elbow, fully clothed, with his booted feet hanging off the bed.

"Do you mind?"

"No, I don't mind at all," he smirked. "Don't let me stop you. I've seen it all anyways."

"But you're married. Wouldn't watching me get dressed make your wife angry?"

He grinned in an almost wolfish manner. "We have an understanding."

"What? The Bucky's I write are monogamous. Are you polyamorous?"

The grin became a broad smile as he looked me up and down. "If the occasion arises. Gotta say I'm curious to see if you have the same appetites as my doll."

"Out!" I wasn't in the mood for this. "Right now. Go downstairs and get your motorcycle ready."

Slowly, he slid off the bed, then approached me, backing me up to the dresser, while looking at me in a way that gave me thrills at the same time as setting off all sorts of warning bells in my head.

"You sure, sunshine?" His fingertips grasped a tendril of my hair, as he twirled it slightly. "I could definitely make you ...."

"Out," I repeated. "Please stop this."

He backed up, suddenly respectful of my space. "Since you said the magic word, I'll wait downstairs for you."

Just like that, he was gone, and I quickly got the sports bra on, then a clean T-shirt. I pulled on some socks and found some boots, sliding them on. With a quick run through of my hair with my fingers I looked at myself in the bathroom mirror, wondering what I had done to get into this predicament.

He was waiting on his motorcycle for me, with a helmet in hand. As I stood there, he placed it on my head, adjusting the chin strap then nodding his head in approval, before putting his on. I slid on behind him, grasping him at the waist. His voice came over a Bluetooth speaker in the helmet.

"You okay, darlin'? Have you ridden a motorcycle before?"

"I'm good. My husband has one and I've ridden with him. Where are we going?"

"The Sanctum Sanctorum," he said. "Might as well go straight to Dr. Strange."

Suddenly, we were there, pulling up to an open parking spot in front of the headquarters of the Masters of the Mythical Arts in the middle of Greenwich Village. This was definitely a unique universe, as we skipped over the long motorcycle ride from Brooklyn, then the frustration of finding any sort of parking. Striding over to the door, Bucky rang the bell, and we were ushered in by an acolyte to where Dr. Strange was drinking a cup of tea and Wong was standing there wringing his hands. Before we could even say anything the two men looked at me, then at each other, then at Bucky.

"Where did you find her?" asked Wong.

That wolfish grin briefly appeared again on Bucky's face. "In my bed. Says she's not my wife, so where is she?"

"That is a good question," said Strange, placing his teacup on the table and approaching me, assessing me in a way that was a little disturbing. "Well, this explains a lot. You're from the real world, aren't you? Beyond the fourth wall."

"Yes, I guess. I'm a fanfiction writer and was taking a nap. When I woke up it was next to him." I pointed at Bucky. "The thing is, he's nothing like the Bucky Barnes character that I write about."

"What's different about him?" Strange's one eyebrow was higher than the other. It was one thing seeing it in the movies but another thing seeing it in person. "Is there a problem with my face?"

"No, no. The biggest difference is that the Bucky's I write are monogamous and this one is polyamorous."

"And? That's a problem?"

I became aware that I was in the middle of all three men, and they were looking at me as if I were lunch, served on a platter just for them.

"Stop!" I barked. "Yeah, it's a problem, okay? Is this a polyamorous universe? Because I'm not! I'm married to one man, and I want to go back to him. Please, you must find a way to get me back to where I belong."

Wong backed away from me first. "She's right. Consent is still required in this universe. Plus, with her being from beyond the fourth wall we could really hurt her. She's actual flesh and blood ... we're fictional characters."

Dr. Strange backed away, returning to his cup of tea. Bucky, well, he just sprawled on a couch as if he had always lived there.

"Tell me about what you were doing before you slept," said Strange.

I told him about the physical changes to Bucky's appearance based on the leaked preview of Thunderbolts* and how the fandom was worrying about his portrayal, and the fact that after a six part series of him and Sam becoming friends Marvel just casually split them apart into two different movies as if the other didn't even exist.

"You care about him," said Strange, his voice neutral. "You want him to be happy."

"Well, yeah," I replied. "The man lost everything that mattered to him and was tortured for 70 years, experimented on, and forced to become a killer for a gang of authoritarian thugs. My thing, my contribution to fanfiction is that Bucky gets a happy ending."

"Sweetheart, I have that," said the super soldier, from where he sat on the couch. "I admit that I am fucked up, but my wife makes me happy and her interest in our extramarital activities is the same as mine. Yet, you treat me like I'm some sort of deviant."

"No, it's not that." I sighed. "Other writers see you in this way and that's fine; that's their thing and lots of people read them and enjoy them but I guess I just like you better when you're monogamous, kind and gentle. To someone like me, this version of you is a bit scary and overwhelming."

"That's fair," he murmured. "You look like my wife. Does your husband look like me?"

"No, not at all," I smiled. "He's shorter, balding, not as fit. But he loves me and he's faithful, kind, and gentle. He beta reads my stories, and I even wrote a Black Widow smut piece just for him. I think he imagines me as his Black Widow sometimes."

Bucky grinned, then nodded his head approvingly.

"Do they break the fourth wall in this Thunderbolts* movie?" asked Wong.

"I don't know. It hasn't come out yet and there's been very few previews of it. I think the only Marvel character that breaks the fourth wall is Deadpool. His movie with Wolverine just came out recently and is making a ton of money."

Both Dr. Strange and Wong perked up. "Deadpool? As in Wade Wilson?"

I nodded. "Yeah, he's fully aware in the movies and comic books that he's fictional. He often breaks the fourth wall."

My voice tapered off. Was I here because of Deadpool?

"Sunshine, have you seen the movie?" Bucky was also sitting upright.

I nodded my head. "My husband and I went to see the matinee just a few days ago."

A green glow emanated from the time stone as Dr. Strange went to wherever he went when he activated it. Wong watched him carefully as did Bucky. Then the Supreme Sorcerer stopped his permutations and gazed at me.

"The Time Variance Authority are in this movie," he stated. "I have a feeling they're involved in this. But why they would take someone from the real world and place them here is a mystery to me."

Suddenly a TVA portal opened in front of us, and B-15 walked out followed by me, at least a version of me, wearing only a T-shirt and panties. Bucky jumped up from the couch.

"Doll? Is it you?"

"Oh Daddy, I was so afraid," she cried, as he wrapped his arms around her. "I woke up in a cell and didn't know how I got there, and ...." She noticed me. "She's me."

"I'm sorry," said B-15, looking at me. "A terrible mistake was made. Beyond the fourth wall is usually forbidden to our hunters but when you went to see the Deadpool movie your presence was noticed in the theatre with your Bucky variant."

"Wait, my husband is a Bucky variant?"

The leader of the TVA smiled. "Well, yes. It's why you write Bucky Barnes fanfiction. You see him as Bucky and yourself as the original female character. You don't have to look alike to be a variant. It's just that you're kind of the model for the OFC in your own universe where you draw your inspiration from. It's supposed to be a private universe and off limits to the TVA. Unfortunately, one of our hunters didn't understand that. He removed Mrs. Barnes here as an illegal variant and installed you as the original in this universe. He has been sent for judgement and won't be in a position to do that again. We are also making sure all of our hunters are aware that the Bucky Barnes fanfiction that you write and read in your own private universe is just that, private, at least to us."

"So how do we get this Mrs. Barnes back to her universe beyond the fourth wall?" asked Dr. Strange. "I have the feeling it's beyond my capabilities."

B-15 smiled at him. "It is but not beyond mine. As soon as she's ready to go I'll open a portal back to her universe."

It sounded simple and like many movies, a little bit of a quick fix, but I wanted to go back so I wasn't going to question it. Wong smiled at me.

"Good luck on the next one shot," he said.

I nodded at him, then Dr. Strange looked at me in that superior way he sometimes had. "I knew there would be a logical solution."

"Right."

Bucky was next, his wife already wearing his leather jacket.

"Oh, this is yours," I said, starting to take the one I had off.

"Keep it sweetheart, as a souvenir," he smirked. "Say hi to your husband for me. Tell me something. The lady there said something about the fiction you read. Does that mean you do read the polyamorous stuff, since you ended up in my bed?"

I sighed as I hated being put in a position of agreeing. "Every so often one captures my eye," I admitted. "Doesn't mean it's something I'm interested in trying."

"If you say so." He glanced at his wife with affection. "You came through for me. I appreciate it."

I looked at B-15. "I'm ready."

She nodded at the others, then punched a few buttons on her TemPad. A portal opened and I walked through it, then felt the touch of my husband's hand on my shoulder as I was still on top of the bed.

"Honey? Wake up."

I sat up, saw my husband, and felt a rush of affection for him.

"Sorry, I took a nap, and I guess I was more tired than what I thought."

"No worries," he smiled. "Um, did you go shopping today? Is that a new jacket and jeans and boots?"

I was still in the other Mrs. Barnes' clothing.

"Yes?" I answered, tentatively.

He smiled and nodded his head appreciatively. "I like them. Makes you look hot. You should wear stuff like that more often." Offering me his hand, he helped me up. "What do you think of taking a ride on the bike and going to a diner for dinner? My treat."

"Sounds like a plan," I answered. "Just let me freshen up a little."

When I got outside my husband was already waiting on his Vespa. I know what you're thinking ... a Vespa is not a motorcycle. Maybe not in the traditional sense but it is what we have and it's a lot of fun. I still get to wrap my arms around my husband's waist and maybe he doesn't have a hard body like Bucky Barnes, but he's all mine and I don't have to share him with anyone. Besides, now that I know he's a Bucky variant I understand how he knows what I like between the sheets, if you get what I mean. When I do write smut, I'm writing about my Bucky, the one I live with in this universe, beyond the fourth wall.

One Shots Masterlist

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#bucky barnes #bucky barnes fanfiction #buckybarnes original female character #bucky barnes oneshot #james buchanan barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes x reader #multiverse #TVA #bucky barnes variants #writing something silly

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wangxianficfinder · 4 months ago

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I'm in the mood for...

Aug 8th

~*~

1. Could you recommend me a list of the saddest fanfics of mdzs?

I need a trigger to uplift my reading slump. Thanks^^

🔒 salt to the sea by starmins (M, 31k, WangXian, WWX & JYL, Modern AU, Grief/Mourning, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Road Trips, Additional Warnings In Author’s Note, Canonical Character Death)

Across the street to another life by danegen (M, 99k, WangXian, Modern, unleashed au, Family Fluff, Set in America, Hurt/Comfort, Past Child Abuse, Addiction, Crime, Amnesia, Ableist Language, another fridged mother, POV Alternating, past wwx/ofc, past wwx/omc, Medium parent YZY, A-Yuan is wwx’s biological son, Musicians, Happy Ending)

grave goods by luckymarrow (E, 28k, WangXian, Grief/Mourning, Minor Character Death, Modern AU, mortician!wwx, Angst with a Happy Ending, Established Relationship, Accidental Baby Acquisition, Marriage Proposal, abrupt tonal shifts, Tragicomedy, Comedy, Romance, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Adoption, Implied/Referenced Abuse, for lan parents, it’s not described and is all backstory, Family Bonding, Family Dynamics, Married WangXian, brief daddy kink, the barest hint of consensual non-consent, Anal Sex, Oral Sex, BDSM)

Meet Me At The Corner After Dark by Omen1991 (M, 21k, WangXian, Modern, Ghosts, Angst with a Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, Grief/Mourning, Character Death, but he's already dead, Injury, Concerns about self-harm, no actual self-harm, Panic Attacks, Office, Tears, Sad with a Happy Ending, Reincarnation, kind of, mild romance, POV LWJ, Ghost WWX, Neurodivergent LWJ, Amnesiac WWX, Siblings who love each other, Autism, Autistic LWJ, Translation Available)

to the act of making noise by words-writ-in-starlight (WordsWritInStarlight) (G, 19k, LSZ & LWJ, LSZ & WWX, WangXian, Grief/Mourning, Father-Son Relationship, inquiry, LSZ is the best of boys and I will not hear debate, Music, Angst, Fluff and Angst, Found Family, [Podfic] to the act of making noise by Ceewelsh, flamingwell, kisahawklin, Rionaa) This is basically Lan Yuan growing up with Inquiry as a lullaby (and seeing LWJs grief through his eyes). It has a happy ending, but I couldn't get through this without a box of tissues. If you want the emotions dialed up even more, listen to the podfic version with music

ius in bello by Lise (T, 2k, JC & JYL & WWX, Canon Divergence, Tearjerker, Sad Ending, Heavy Angst, Grief/Mourning, Originally Posted on Tumblr, Not A Fix-It, POV JC, [Podfic] ius in bello by flamingwell) WWX doesn't survive Qiongqi Path, told from Jiang Cheng's perspective

dormiveglia (in between sleeping and waking) by comforting_monachopsis (M, 13k, WangXian, XuanLi, Diary/Journal, Golden Core Reveal, Canonical Child Abuse, Canonical Character Death, YLLZ WWX, Oblivious WWX, Protective WWX, WWX Needs a Hug, Grief/Mourning, Burial Mounds Settlement Days, Sort Of, Dysfunctional Family, Family Issues, Thirteen Years of WWX’s Death, Dead WWX, Angst and Tragedy) where wwx doesn't come back but left a journal behind and everyone has to live with it

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2. itmf wangxian dating in cloud recesses study arc?

🧡 Stunted, Starving Juvenility by TomatenMark (E, 828k, WangXian, WIP, Fix-it of sorts, Talisman master WWX, Not JFM Friendly, Study Arc, Getting together, Fluff and Angst, Engagement)

Just Say Yes Series by edenwolfie (T/M, 338k, WangXian, Matchmaking, Pining, Getting Together, Canon Divergence, POV Alternating, Fluff, First Kiss, Declarations Of Love, Humor, Cloud Recesses Study Arc, Good Uncle LQR, Engagement, Hurt/Comfort, Fix-It)

it’s just (aah) a little crush (crush!) by sweetlolixo (T, 9k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Romance, Fluff, Pining LWJ, Humor, Courting Rituals, Teen Wangxian)

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

💖 Hoards and treasures by apathyinreverie (T, 21k, WangXian, Siblings, Family, not particularly Jiang friendly, YZY Bashing, slightly darker Gusu Lans, LXC being the best brother, Some manipulation, But with the best of intentions, and not between wangxian, Dragon LWJ, Fox WWX, Smitten LWJ, Fluff, perfect happiness, adorable WWX, Romance, Some worldbuilding, courting)

30 Days of Secret Marriage at Cloud Recesses by starandrea (T, 43k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Bunnies, Gusu Lan Forehead Ribbon, Accidental Marriage, Coming Out, Falling In Love, supportive family, Fluff, Happy Ending, the whole story is happy)

A Wedding of Choice by scifigeek14 (T, 17k, WangXian, Everyone Lives, Marriage Proposal, Episode Related Canon Divergence, POV Third Person Limited)

You Are My Euphoria by orphan_account (M, 17k, wangxian, canon divergence, fluff, making out, 5+1, pining)

loveliness by orphan_account (T, 1k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Love Confessions, First Kiss, Pining, Teen Romance, Getting Together)

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3. ITMF any fics where there is a focus or moment where wwx knows lwj can and will spoil the hell out of him and give him money for anything. kind of like the "it's not my money anyway" moment in the drama. preferably set in canon time period, but won't say no to a modern au if it has a good plot! thank you!!

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4. I was wondering if anyone was aware of any fics that are dark!LWJ but the relationship between him and WWX isn't toxic or dubcon? Something like a mafia, a/b/o, or emperor au, but without the more non-con like elements that are often found in those fics. I would love to read more dark!LWJ, but the tag is full of the more toxic stuff that I personally can't handle (no judgement here, I wish I could lol), so any help is much appreciated! (ITMF ask)

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

Crown Jewel of the Hoard by xFourLeafCloverx (E, 29k, WIP, WangXian, Dark WangXian, Organized Crime, Gun Violence, Consensual Non-Consent, Omegaverse, Shifters, bunxian, dragonji, killing as foreplay and postplay, LWJ is So Whipped, Intersex Omegas, Disfigurement, Blood and Gore, Sugar Daddy LWJ, Jiang Family Bashing, Anal Sex, Anal Fingering) Got mafia and wangxian being together without one of them being forced into it

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5. itmf deaf or hoh wei wuxian please

misunderstood 'verse by sysrae (M, 7k, WangXian, Modern, College/University, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, getting hit by cars, Past Child Abuse, Friends to Lovers, Abusive YZY, Caring LWJ, Injured WWX, partial hearing loss, the real OTP is everyone x therapy)

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6. ITMF fics where Lan Zhan and/or Wei Ying smoke/get high (not drunk) can be weed or harder drugs, also okay if it's just Lan Zhan feeding Wei Ying drugs. @thehappyyellow

a constant satellite of your blazing sun (i obey your law of gravity) by Ariaste (M, 26k, JGY/LXC, WangXian, JGY & WWx, Madam LAN/QHJ, Modern, Slice of Life, Established Relationship, Family Drama, Flashbacks, HOAverse, Marijuana, Nice Lan Boys Marry Gremlins, (bass boosted) NICE LAN BOYS MARRY GREMLINS, OC(s), (sort of), OC Death(s), (but like it's already in canon so you know about it already)) this is part of the HOA series, but does feature wwx and lwj (among others) getting high. Not entirely sure if it can be read as a standalone, but the entire series is hilarious and absolutely worth checking out.

2am on a saturday by detectorist (E, 11k, WangXian, Modern AU, College/University, Recreational Drug Use, (no sex happens while drunk/high!), Humour, Pining, Getting Together, Blow Jobs, it's about the yearning, somehow a harmonica gets involved, the lz/mm/jzx best friends agenda)

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7. Itmf the juniors being protective of WWX?

Rotten Work by ShanaStoryteller (Not Rated, 63k, WangXian, WWX & JL, Post-Canon, Protective WWX, Protective JL, Yunmeng Bros Reconciliation, Reluctant Matchmaker JL)

🔒 The Absolutely True Story of the Yiling Patriarch: A Manifesto in Many Parts by aubreyli (T, 19k, WangXian, In-Universe RPF, Romance Novel, LJY’s sense of justice, OYZZ’s sense of romance, Featuring a surprise appearance by WWX’s oft-absent sense of shame, Look the ducklings just want their sort-of dads to be happy okay?, And it’s not like WWX or LWJ are doing a good job of ensuring their own happiness, LJY rejects canon reality and substitutes his own, highly relatable actually, Post-Canon Fix-It, primarily drama-canon with cameos from novel-canon, Podfic Available, Russian Translation Available)

🧡 the stone-filled sea by yukla (T, 9k, WangXian, LSZ & WWX, Post-Canon, senior wei defense squad, a study of the way prejudice and injustice and anger trickle down from generation to generation)

bespoke by cafecliche (G, 3k, WangXian, Post-Canon, Fluff, LSZ is a very good boy, which is specifically a tag for the fic but also just true in general, mostly novel-compliant but could easily be CQL-compliant too)

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8. hello! for the next itmf, i would love to see fics where wwx does empathy with lxc and/or lqr and find out how mistreated he is. could be during his youth or post-sunshot, either one. thank you!

And Time Is But a Paper Moon by sami (M, 139k, WangXian, XiChengQing, Time Travel, Fix-It, Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Healing, Mental Health Issues, PTSD, Hurt/Comfort, Depression, BAMF WWX, BAMF JC, BAMF LWJ, BAMF JYL, Getting Together) I'm not sure if these are quite what the requester was looking for but Lan Xichen uses Empathy (and is traumatized by it) to see a past timeline

❤️ All will be well when the day is done by abCEE (T, 76k, LQR & WWX, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Fix It, Not Jiang Family Friendly, JFM & YZY Bashing, YZY Bashing, Definitely not YZY centric, Fix it for our main characters, Time Travel, Butterfly Effect, Madam Lan Lives, No Sunshot Campaign, Artistic License, Unreliable Narrator, JC Bashing, non-yunmeng WWX, Accidental Baby Acquisition, Good Uncle LQR, OOC, WangXian Get a Happy Ending, WWX gets the love and care that he deserves from the very beginning, Mainly CQL but has elements of the novel as well, WWX Isn’t Adopted by the Jiangs, verbal and physical (c/o Zidian) abuse from YZY) and Lan Qiren uses Empathy to learn who a sick child Wei Ying is and learns about Wei Ying's abuse in his past timeline

Rise of the Divine Oracle by BlakSalt (T, 291k, WangXian, Boy Love, Hurt/Comfort, Romance)

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9. Does anyone have any Sizhui-centric fics where he learns about or pieces together his past with wwx and the wens before wwx comes back? 🥺 Like 'Would You Come Home?' By s6115, that was so good I need more fics with that concept. 😭 Please and thank you 🙏

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10. Hi I wondering if you knew any fics similar to: A Corpse Called by Name by jaemyun👀 thank you so much for your hard work?

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11. rogue cultivator wangji PLEASE

doesnt matter if its like post wwx's death or before the cloud recesses study arc i just have a NEED for rogue cultivator lwj if no one can find any i'll just write it myself i swear

🔒 And Miles To Go Before I Sleep by Glitterbombshell (T, 23k, WangXian, JC & LWJ, LSZ & LWJ, LXC & LWJ, Heavy Angst with a Happy Ending, LXC is not really a good brother in this sorry, Canon Divergence, rogue cultivator LWJ) This one is good & has an interesting impetus for LWJ leaving (the Jin find out LSZ is a Wen) but sadly hasn't been updated in almost 4 years. BTW please write a rogue cultivator!LWJ fic - this is an insanely underutilised trope considering the obvious story potential

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12. Hey! I’m in the mood for any and all fic where Lan Zhan marries into the Jiang sect with Wèi Ying. Thanks! @shapeshifters-anon

The Fire Lapping Up the Creek by notevenyou (E, 66k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Hurt/Comfort, Canon-Typical Violence, Injury, Injury Recovery, Blood, Respiratory Illness, Major Illness, Fever, Grief/Mourning, Burial Mounds, Angst with a Happy Ending, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Hunger and food scarcity, Surgery, Fix-It of Sorts)

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13. Hey, I'm looking for (and really need) a good story where WWX has had enough and just becomes a villain (+100 to interest if he goes back in time and is evil from the beginning) (+10 if WWX is a genius and uses his inventions to manipulating, getting what he wants and/or establishing his position so that no one can hurt or take advantage of him).

e.g. after destroying his new home and killing all the Wen, WWX destroys the seal and goes back in time, but instead of trying to fix everything and make it better he says "f*ck it" and simply stops being a good boy. He will be the same as the rest of the world... or something like that :)

Just... WWX as a villain <3 @ethealia

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14. Hello! I am looking for fics where Meng Yao / Jin Guangyao is wholly nice and good (and not secretly scheming and villainous and such). Any au or era, I just want to see him happy and safe and supported by friends. Thank you so much!

what builds a home by Stratisphyre (T, 45k, WangXian, MY & WWX, Canon Divergence, Adopted WWX, POV Multiple, warning for JGS behaving exactly as expected, child endangerment, Brother Feels, Minor Character Death, [Podfic] Cold read of "what builds a home" by Stratisphyre by KeriArentikaiPods (KeriArentikai))

a micro utopia born as the overture plays by tardigradeschool (T, 18k, wangxian, JGY/LXC, fix-it)

Meng Yao vs. the Board of the Homeowner's Association Series by Ariaste (M/T, 119k, WIP, XiYao, WangXian, Modern AU, Established Relationship, xiyao and wangxian are both already married, Family Feels, Domestic Fluff, Family Bonding, Slice of Life, Discussions of Past Trauma, wwx's canonical kinks, HOAverse)

结局难更改 (the ending is hard to change) Series by PorcupineGirl (G, 50k, WangXian, Time Travel, Modern with Magic, Modern Cultivators AU, Canon Divergence, Time Traveler WWX, discussion of canonical character deaths, conveniently localized fires, Discussion of Canonical Suicide Attempt, mostly happy but slightly bittersweet ending, Reincarnation, LWJ POV, Established Relationship, Aromantic JC) Not JGY centric, though.

Peony to Lotus series by Deriliarch (T, 65k, JYL/JGY, wangxian, canon divergence, arranged marriage, demisexual character, demiromantic character, fix-it, slice of life, angst)

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15. ITMF Jiang disciples trying to actually get Wei Wuxian out of the Jiang sect or keep him safe from the main Jiang family for his own safety

Dispersing Clouds by dreamingofcake (E, 283k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Genius WWX, Inventor WWX, Not Jiang Family Friendly, Abusive YZY, Canonical Child Abuse, Hurt/Comfort, Slow Burn, Eventual Sex, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm (Background Character), Background Character Deaths, child deaths, Canon JC, Good Uncle LQR, Accidental Baby Acquisition, Cultivation Sect Politics, Homophobia, Heteronormativity, Feelings Realization, WWX is Not Oblivious) This might count? WWX leaves the clan himself, but there's a scene later in the fic where JFM & YZY are on trial & the Jiang disciples rebel & testify against them over WWX's treatment

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16. May I ask an ITMF for wwx having a pet/befriending/encountered avians like cranes, songbirds, crows, etc. please? I read a fic where wwx has an army of mischievous ravens and I'd like more recommendations if you have any!

A Long Road by Vathara (T, 187k, WangXian, Fluff and Angst, Crossovers & Fandom Fusions, Scheming NHS, Necromancy, Fire, Ghosts, Accidental Child Acquisition, is it an accident if the ghosts keep bringing them?)

We Meet at the Thousandth Step by Admiranda, Rynne (T, 316k, WangXian, CSSR/WCZ, Canon Divergence, No Sunshot Campaign, CSSR & WCZ Live, Rogue Cultivator WWX, Different First Meeting, Night Hunts, Genius WWX, Inventor WWX, Plot, Romance, Drama, Fluff, Strangers to married, Unresolved Sexual Tension, Unresolved Romantic Tension, Everyone Lives, Developing Relationship, Minor Violence, Case Fic, Mystery, Flirting, WWX’s Canon-Typical Flower Flirting, Arson, There Was Only One Bed, Getting Together, First Kiss, Meeting the Parents, Resolved Sexual Tension, Resolved Romantic Tension, WWX Is a Good Big Brother, New Relationship Bliss, Chinese Mythology & Folklore, Blood and Injury, Yiling siblings, Married WangXian, Honeymoon, Wangxian’s Baby Fever) Wei Ying and Lan Zhan befriend and save a Zhenniao (a mythical bird) in chapters 41-44

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17. ITMF fics where Wei Wuxian is the Yiling Laozu but, like, he is established as such prior to or external to the events of canon? As in, WWX isn’t raised in Yunmeng and he doesn’t do the canon Gusu Lectures arc or Wen Indoctrination arc and such, instead he is already in Burial Mounds with a scary reputation. Usually this plot crops up in arranged marriage or war prize aus where Lan Wangji is given to the big bad Yiling Laozu to gain favor, kind of like in 山水盆景 (Shānshuǐ Pénjǐng) by meicairoubingfan where the Yiling Laozu is an immortal who the sects appeal to to intervene in the Sunshot Campaign conflict. Does this description make sense? Thank you!

what price is duty, what cost is love by thunderwear (G, 18k, wangxian, canon divergence, WWX was never adopted to Jiang, war prize, YLLZ WWX, pining, first kiss, first time, falling in love, angst w/ happy ending)

💖🔒 love, in fire and blood by cicer (E, 360k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, YLLZ WWX, Arranged Marriage, political scheming, Gratuitous Domesticity, Mutual Pining, EXTREME SLOWBURN, the inherent eroticism of the forehead ribbon, The Mortifying Ordeal of Being Known, neither wwx nor lwj want to be Perceived, but sorry kids! it’s gonna happen!, rated E but the the NSFW stuff doesn’t begin until chapter 19!, bottom LWJ in chapter 20 and 27)

Old Foreshadows by protos_metazu_ison (M, 15k, WangXian, YLLZ WWX, BAMF WWX, War, Universe Alteration, Sunshot Campaign, Rated For Violence, Timeline What Timeline, Mojo's post)

🔒Fated Series by LtLJ (G, 31k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Arranged Marriage, Post-Apocalypse, Magical Apocalypse, Hurt/Comfort, Happy Ending, Canon Diverted via Volcano, YLLZ WWX, Badass LWJ)

🔒hold me fast, fear me not by cicer (M, 16k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Fairy Tale Elements, Ballad 39: Tam Lin, Mpreg, Bottom LWJ/Top WWX, YLLZ WWX, brief reference to abortificants, Implied/Referenced Dubious Consent, may be interpreted as noncon by some)

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

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