#this baby can fit so much angst and pining | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

joelscurls · 10 months ago

Text

stalemate

pairing: Frankie Morales x f!reader

words: 7.2k

summary: Frankie Morales is your best friend — until a drunken hookup tears you apart.

warnings: 18+ minors dni; friends -> enemies -> lovers, TF characters without the TF plot, no Tom (in this house we hate Tom), alcohol consumption, smoking, angst, jealousy, pining, Frankie & reader being idiots in love, explicit smut, size kink, brief mentions of drunk sex, bad / regretful sex (between reader & OC), oral (f!receiving), unprotected piv, creampie, multiple orgasms, use of pet names (bebita, querida, baby, etc.), grilled cheese as a love language, happy ending, I think that's it but let me know if I missed anything!

a/n: thank you so much to @javisashtray & @pedgito for beta-reading this for me <3 this is for all my frankie lovers out there (aka bitches with good taste). dividers are by cafekitsune. follow @joelscurlsupdates for fic notifications! enjoy :)

Frankie Morales makes the best grilled cheese you’ve ever had. Perfectly golden bread; gooey, melty cheese — just the thought of it makes you drool. He says he has a secret ingredient. Won’t let you in the kitchen while he cooks for you, lest you find out.

Sometimes, upon entering his apartment, you can already smell melted butter. He’ll have started on one without even asking if you want it. He knows you always do.

Sit, he’ll shout from the other room. I’ll be right there. Feel free to put something on — but please, not 13 Going on 30. You’ll thank him and question his distaste for Mark Ruffalo in the same breath: you’re the best, but it’s not my fault Matty is the dream man.

He’ll bring you the wafting plate along with a Corona, and insist that you eat before it goes cold while he makes one for himself. Ever the gentleman, ever the friend — at least he was.

Because the two of you haven’t spoken in a month; not since the drunken hookup that you’re both pretending didn’t happen.

You’d laughed the entire cab ride home from the bar. That last round of tequila shots had left you feeling good, all warm and giggly, and Frankie mirrored you in the backseat with his drunken grin. Eyes glassy, lips pulled wide, he’d smacked you lightly on the shoulder as you recalled Santiago’s pitiful loss in that third game of pool. “When he pocketed the eight-ball…” he trailed off into another fit of laughter.

“And then—“ you attempted, voice caught in your throat as another giggle barreled out. “—the cue hitting his drink!” Your entire body folded over, hands braced on Frankie’s thighs as the two of you struggled to regain composure. Through labored breaths, you squealed. “He’s never going to live that down!”

After a few particularly stressful months at work, you lived for these nights out with your friends. You’d met Frankie through your best friend Mal, who was dating his friend Benny, and your circles had eventually meshed into one. Sometimes it felt like it had always been that way, like you’d known the guys your entire life.

Especially Frankie.

Your friendship was a special one — punctuated by frequent trips to the movies to watch the latest horrible slasher film; by nights spent yapping on the phone about nothing in particular. He’d become a constant in your life. Never, in your right mind, would you even dream of doing anything to jeopardize that—

“You look really hot tonight, by the way.”

He shouldn’t have said that. He shouldn’t have. But then it was you who leaned in closer, you who rested your hand on his hip and plucked the Standard Heating Oil cap off his head, placing it atop your own.

It was you who kissed him first.

He deepened it though — that was all him — large, restless hands grasping at your sides, your back, your face; tongue pushing past the seam of your lips to press against yours. He’d groaned into your mouth when the cab stopped at the curb in front of your building. Cursed under his breath when you pulled away.

And then, your voice ragged and breathless, you’d asked, “do you want to come in for a bit?”

It was a mistake. A horrible, blissful mistake. Waking up with sticky thighs and Frankie’s thumbprint bruised into your hip, you’d found his side of the bed cold; your inbox empty. He hadn’t called, hadn’t texted. Still hasn’t.

The aftermath is cursory glances. Half-assed greetings and pleasantries murmured across the bar. Which you don’t mind, really. You don’t want to speak to him. He’d probably just feed you some lie about losing track of time, not remembering what happened that night.

You wish you could forget it.

The visual is fuzzy; fleeting. But his voice — god, his voice — it still rings in your ears, drips at the nape of your neck like a leaking tap: fuck, baby, knew you’d take my cock; feel so good wrapped around me.

Your friends don’t know. They can’t; they wouldn’t let you live it down. Benny has made plenty of offhand comments already about you and Frankie being perfect for each other, having the same stubborn disposition. Mal does nothing to shut him up. Instead, she encourages him. Tells him he’s so right.

You’re pretty sure your eyeballs are going to fall out someday from glaring too hard.

Because you’re not perfect for each other — far from it, actually. Fuck, you can’t even communicate effectively. How could you ever be in a real relationship?

Not that you want that. Frankie is…well, Frankie. Sure, he’d felt undeniably incredible on top of you, inside of you — but he isn’t the type to settle down. In fact, you don’t think you’ve ever heard Frankie talk about dating.

Besides, he’s clearly not interested in being anyone’s anything right now. Not even your friend.

It hurts; cuts deeper than you care to admit. Just weeks ago, you’d spent an entire weekend at his place, marathoning the X Files and gorging on cold pizza. Now, he won’t even look your way for more than a few seconds.

Won’t make you a fucking grilled cheese.

It’s a Friday night, which means you’re meeting your friends at Sid’s. The glow of neon seeping through the windows of the old dive bar is warm and inviting as you step out of your rideshare and make your way toward the doors.

Frankie is sitting at the bar with Santiago when you enter. Hunched shoulders, narrowed eyes trained on his bottle of Corona, he appears detached from whatever Santi is saying to him. He doesn’t acknowledge you when you stroll up to them — not until his friend’s hand lands hard on his back, pulling his attention away from the beer. He offers a half-assed hello and an even more half-assed half-hug, and then he’s sliding back onto his barstool.

Ever-oblivious, Santiago doesn’t seem to notice the way Frankie curls in on himself; the way your back is up like an agitated cat’s.

Mal and Benny turn up minutes later, immediately ordering a round of shots for the group. You down the liquor eagerly, not bothering to lean on salt and lime to numb the sting. You want to feel it. You order another before joining Mal and the guys at a pool table in the back, letting the acid slide down your throat with no more than a wince as Santi racks the balls.

“Alright Fish, you’re up,” he says. “Me and you. Whoever loses buys the next round.”

You watch as Frankie quirks a brow at him. Takes a swig of his beer. “You sure you want to make that bet, Pope?”

Santi grins; nods confidently. “Hell yeah, I do.” The rest of you don’t bother to suppress your laughter. You catch a glimpse of Frankie, head thrown back, his broad, glistening neck exposed, and you have to fight to ignore the sudden panging in your chest.

When Santi inevitably loses, you order a vodka soda. You’re already feeling a bit tipsy after two shots in less than twenty minutes, so the drink goes down smooth; quick. There’s a rush to your head as you settle back at the bar and fiddle with the wrapper to your straw, letting the slightly soggy paper roll between two fingers.

You barely notice when Frankie slots in a few seats down, your attention drawn only when you hear his voice. It’s deep — sounds just like it did when he had his chest pressed to your back in the dim light of your bedroom — and his intonation nearly gives you whiplash.

When you snap your head up to look at him, you find he’s speaking to a woman. Her back is turned to you, long, dark hair tossed over her shoulder and her elbow resting casually on the bartop, but you imagine she must be beautiful by the way Frankie is visibly fawning over her. You’re staring, you hear her tease. Can’t help it, comes his reply.

Something like discomfort builds in your throat. Rises up up up. You take a long sip of your drink, letting vodka and sugar push it down.

You’ve never seen Frankie flirt with anyone, apart from you. It’s strangely unsettling, listening to him smooth-talk her. I’m a pilot, you know, he brags; could take you up in the sky someday if you wanted. Her giddy squeal comes seconds later; really? You’d do that for me?

You feel bad for her. She doesn’t know yet that all he’ll do is disappoint her.

He feeds her lines as you sip on your drink, citrus and grain burning only when he tells her: yeah, I came with friends; they’re all over there. Gestures toward Benny, Mal and Santi standing around the pool table in the back.

Scoffing, you stand from your seat at the bar and retreat to the patio. You don’t bother to check if Frankie is looking.

It’s cooler here, a sobering breeze carrying salt air with it as it wafts by. A few patrons have spilled outside, most smoking on faintly glowing cigarettes as they talk and laugh boisterously among themselves. You’d planned to sit alone, to plant yourself on a bench and enjoy your drink in solitude. But then a stranger is approaching you — a man, cigarette grasped between two of his fingers — and he’s asking you for a light.

He’s in his mid thirties, if you had to guess. Curly, dark hair sprouts every which way from his scalp; rounded, green eyes studying you as he awaits a response. He’s tall, though not as tall as Frankie. His shoulders aren’t nearly as broad and his chest isn’t quite as wide. His t-shirt hangs loose around his torso, swallowing his narrow frame — dissimilar to the way Frankie’s button-down clings to him.

Then again — why are you even comparing? Maybe the opposite of Frankie is exactly what you need.

You’ll have to seduce this stranger first, though. Not that it seems like it’ll be very difficult. His eyes are already raking over you, lips turned up at the corner as you take a casual sip of your drink.

“I don’t smoke,” you admit apologetically.

“Ah — that’s alright.”

He has an accent; midwestern, maybe? You don’t bother to ask. You don’t care, really. It doesn’t matter. All that matters is—

“You here all by yourself?”

“Yeah,” he laughs at your lack of subtlety. “Are you?”

“No,” you say. “My friends are inside.” Lowering your voice, you add, “but I was thinking about leaving soon.”

“Why’s that? Early morning tomorrow?”

You shake your head. Rub at your neck as if working out a knot, a contented hum pushing past your lips at the press of fingers into skin. Your stranger’s eyes trail rather conspicuously downward.

“Just over it,” you sigh exasperatedly. “I’d much rather be home…in bed…out of these clothes.”

You pull gently at the strap of your dress, as if you can’t bear the sensation of it against your shoulder any longer.

Your stranger’s gaze darkens, and the grip on his box of cigarettes grows tighter.

“You uh — want some company — once I find a light?”

Too fucking easy.

“Sure,” you giggle.

He slips away only for a minute or two, giving you just enough time to second-guess yourself. You know nothing about this man, not even his name; only that he smokes American Spirits and smells like tobacco. Should you really go home with him?

But then you think of Frankie inside — talking up a woman at the bar, pretending that you don’t exist — and that just about makes up your mind for you.

Your stranger reappears, now-lit cigarette dangling from his lips. The tip of it rages red and angry, and you think you know how that feels.

He smirks at you as he stuffs the pack into the front pocket of his jeans. An unceremonious silence hangs in the air as he sucks on the filter and puffs out a string of smoke. You wait patiently for him, quietly.

He snuffs the butt of his cigarette out in a nearby ashtray. Takes your empty cup and discards that too.

Can’t wait to get you home, he whispers in your ear then. You feign arousal, peering up at him and batting your eyelashes. Me neither, you mewl. Let’s go.

You lead him back through the bar, finding Mal and letting her know that you’ll be going. She seems a little perplexed, quirking a brow at you as you grip tightly onto your stranger’s arm, but she tells you to have fun anyway. Text me, she mouths as you make your way to the exit.

You only get a few feet, though, before you’re intercepted.

Frankie is blocking the door, arms crossed, a panic-stricken look on his face that you can’t quite comprehend. “Hey,” he says, “can I talk to you real quick?”

Your stranger backs off. Lets go of your arm and starts out the door. “I’ll wait outside,” he says, slipping away with a wink before you can protest.

The bar is bustling with noise, people in every corner drinking and laughing and dancing. Strangely, though, you’ve never felt so alone. So vulnerable. And you hate that Frankie has this power over you, the innate ability to make you feel so fucking small. It’s infuriating, it’s—

“Are you sure you want to leave with him?”

“Excuse me?” you scoff.

Frankie stares you down, face red, eyes inky-black. “You don’t know this guy, do you? What if he’s a murderer or something? Or like — a pervert?”

He’s grasping at straws, you know it. It’s why you laugh; roll your eyes.

“What are you, my keeper?”

“No, it’s just — I’m just concerned for your safety, okay?”

You’re briefly stunned. After weeks of ignoring you, he cares about your wellbeing? How can he be so hypocritical?

“I’m fine,” you bite back. “Why don’t you go back to your girl at the bar? Worry about getting yourself some instead?”

He’s wounded, if only slightly. His lips part like he might retaliate, but he’s silent. Dejected. Satisfied, you brush past him. March out the door without so much as a parting glance.

Finding your stranger leaning against the bar’s brick exterior, you force a smile. He outstretches a hand and you take it, reluctantly. “Ready to go?” he asks.

You’re not so sure anymore, but you nod anyway. Squeeze your stranger’s bicep and preen under his lustful gaze when he tenses in your grip. “Yeah,” you purr. “I’m ready.”

Cold air bites at your toes the following morning. It wakes you from a deep slumber; bitterly pulls you into consciousness. Confused, you yank at the covers. But a mysterious weight holds them in place, and only then do you remember then that you’re not alone.

Eyes sliding open reluctantly, you scan the room. Your dress from the night before is draped over the chair in the corner, your stranger’s clothes piled up on the floor nearby. He snores next to you, an arm raising to hang above his head, and you shift. Slip out of bed and pull a t-shirt on before padding into the bathroom.

Early morning light spills across tile, bounces off the mirror above the sink. You squint, shuffling over to the window and yanking the blinds closed. Then you check for damage in your reflection. Your makeup from the night before has stained your cheeks and your eyes look as tired as you feel, but otherwise there appears to be no physical evidence of your rock bottom.

The sex wasn’t great — not even good, really. Your stranger had lasted all of three minutes, had fanned his hot breath across the shell of your ear as he came, and then collapsed on top of you. Rolled over and drifted to sleep. He’d started snoring before you could even process what had just happened.

Cold water splashed across your cheeks does nothing to cool the burn of regret that scorches your skin. You feel uncomfortable, almost as if your body is tainted, now, remnants of your stranger leaking from between your thighs as you steady yourself at the edge of the sink.

He must’ve heard the tap, or maybe the pounding in your chest, because he emerges seconds later. He yawns and stretches, feline-like, in the doorway. “Hey,” he mutters. “How’d you sleep?”

“Pretty good,” you say, eyes twitching slightly as you will them to stay put above his waistline.

“You always up this early?”

You nod. It’s a lie, but he doesn’t need to know that you’d nearly jumped out of bed at the sight of him still there. He doesn’t need to know that for a split second, you’d almost hoped it was Frankie.

He asks if you want to get breakfast. You shake your head in faux-sympathy. “Sorry, can’t. I was hoping to get some cleaning done.”

“I could stick around and help,” he offers.

Jesus Christ. Just take the fucking hint.

“That’s so nice of you; I’m just more efficient by myself,” you lie again.

If Frankie were here, he’d grab the cleaning rags out of the closet just off the kitchen. He knows where they’re kept: second shelf, on the left. He’d wipe down the counters and the coffee table while you’d work on clearing dishes, disposing of pizza scraps. And he’d probably put on his dad-rock playlist — against your wishes — though you’d inevitably find yourself dancing to Foo Fighters and giggling when he’d sing along and mess up the words.

It begins to sink in then, as you shoo your stranger, now dressed, out the door, that your attempt to use sex as a way to get Frankie out of your head was useless. He’s still there, refusing quite adamantly to budge, all mussed curls and big eyes and deep voice. There’s no evidence that he’ll be leaving any time soon.

The revelation renders you nauseous. You spend the rest of the day with a hangover that you’re sure has not been induced by alcohol. And by the time night falls, darkness descending over your bedroom like a fog, you still feel sick.

A week later, you drag yourself to Benny and Mal’s for their monthly game night. You’d tried to get out of it, told Mal you haven’t been feeling great — which isn't a total lie — but she’d begged you until you broke.

Will is coming, and it’ll be the first time we’ve all gotten together in over a year, she’d whined through the receiver.

And then-

I know things were weird between you and Frankie last time at the bar, but you can’t let that stop us from seeing each other.

How do you know that, you’d asked, chewing on your bottom lip, the phone tucked between your ear and your shoulder.

He basically moped around the rest of the night after you left. Kept bitching about you leaving with that guy. He seemed really…agitated. You don’t have to tell me what happened, just please don’t bail.

So you’re here, steeling yourself as you climb the steps to the front door, hoping that if nothing else, you can make it through the night without strangling Frankie for his lack of discretion.

You enter the house with baited breath.

Your eyes immediately catch Frankie, tucked into the corner of the sectional, fingers wrapped tightly around his beer. He meets your gaze briefly before letting it slip to the floor by his feet, as if he’s trying to pretend he hasn’t seen you at all.

“Hi,” you try.

He looks back up at you, or rather past you. Taps his fingers along the bottle for a long moment. “Hey,” he says finally, to the wall behind your head.

“How have you been?” the words come out forced, almost foreign. You shift your weight awkwardly and he sighs.

“Fine. I’m fine.”

“Right,” you mutter. More silence. “Me too, in case you were wondering.”

“Good,” he says, voice cold. “That’s good.”

You’re not sure whether you want to slap him or kiss him. Because as infuriating as he’s being right now, he looks gorgeous, denim shirt hugging his biceps, his shoulders; stray curls peaking out from under that stupid Standard Heating Oil hat. You yearn to rip it off his head, run your fingers through his hair, nip along the sharp line of his jaw; the broad expanse of his neck.

You long to feel something other than the prominent ache that’s permeated your body for weeks, now. And you fear that he’s the only one who’d be able to alleviate it.

Your mouth opens again just as Benny emerges from the kitchen. Whatever words you were about to utter are lost in the ether as he pulls you into a suffocating hug and thanks you for coming.

“Mal’s in the kitchen,” he says. Grabs a handful of Lays from a bowl on the coffee table and shovels them into his mouth. Still chewing, he adds, “we got those wine coolers you like; they’re in the fridge.”

With a hurried thanks, you slip away unscathed.

You find Mal crouched in front of the open fridge, rustling through a produce drawer stocked with beer cans.

“Hey,” you announce.

She seems almost surprised to see you when she cranes her neck toward your voice, despite your promise to show. Eyebrows raised, mouth slightly agape, it’s as if she’s waiting for the other shoe to drop. She pulls another drawer open. Fishes out a wine cooler and passes it to you with an outstretched arm.

You take it in one hand. Help her up with the other.

“You’re here,” she says, and it sounds like more of a question than a statement.

“Yeah. I said I would be.”

“I know, I know. It’s just — I wasn’t sure. The whole Frankie thing…”

“It’s nothing; I promise,” you lie. “Water under the bridge. We’re fine.”

She quirks a brow at you, disbelief coloring her features, but she lets it go. Closes the fridge with a thunk and adjusts her sweater at the hem. “Good,” she says. “I don’t want you two ruining game night.”

It’s half a joke, but you know deep down she means it. She takes this all very seriously. Back in college, she’d forced you and your suitemates to play Cards Against Humanity with her every weekend. None of you had the heart to tell her when it started to grow monotonous, and so the tradition carried on well past graduation, eventually evolving into a new tradition with new friends.

Games bring people together, she’d said once over a round of Monopoly that had stretched well into the night, resulting in delirious laughter and a warm, fuzzy feeling in your chest.

You’d believed her at the time. Now, you’re not so sure that it’s foolproof.

The two of you rejoin the guys in the living room, Santiago and Will having shown up in your absence. You greet them as Benny pulls out a stack of game boxes. Settle on the couch, as far away from Frankie as you can manage.

It starts during the second round of Charades.

The first round had gone fine — good, even. Teamed up with Santi and Will, you’d avoided eye contact with Frankie for the whole of it. Focused only on guessing Santi’s horribly-mimed clues in between handfuls of trail mix and sips of watermelon-flavored bubbles.

It’d felt a bit like old times, all of you in one room again. Mal snuggling into Benny on the loveseat; Will catching his brother up on time spent touring the country, giving motivational speeches to recently discharged veterans. He’d asked you how you’ve been as Santi studied his next word, and you’d remembered then that everything was very much not how it once was.

And you hadn’t missed Frankie’s discomfort at the question; the way he set his beer bottle down on the table with a bit too much force, glass clanging against wood. Though if Will noticed too, he hadn’t said anything. Just moved into a story about some woman he met on the road that reminded him of you.

Santi’s turn had ended with a whopping zero points for your team, and now Frankie is standing at the front of the room, unfolding the scrap of paper in his hand and reading it to himself. In the lull, you find yourself staring at him, eyes near glazing over at the sight of the tiny paper pinched between long, thick fingers. Fingers you remember the reach of, the weight of.

He crumples the paper and stuffs it into his pocket, signaling that he’s ready to go. Mal flips over the sand timer on the table. And you almost don’t notice at first when he starts, mind occupied by equal parts lust and annoyance, that he’s fucking mouthing the phrase.

You watch, enraged, as Benny squints to read his lips. He raises his hand excitedly and jumps to his feet; yells out the answer with a sureness that Frankie affirms with a nod.

“That’s right. It’s the Empire State Building.”

“That’s fucking cheating!” you shout, a bit angrier than the situation calls for, and the room grows quiet. Fury coursing through you, you add, “are you fucking serious, Frankie?”

You feel the eyes on you; the awkward sheen you’ve cast over the room. Mal shifts across from you, glaring when you turn to face her, and you laugh defensively.

“What, nobody else thinks that’s unfair?”

“Please,” Frankie sneers.

“No, she’s right,” Santi tries — ever the peacemaker. “We’ll just add a rule going forward; no mouthing the words.”

“Fuck that,” you hiss. “I want their point taken away.”

Frankie scoffs from the other side of the room. “Bullshit! We earned that before the rule was added.”

You’re fuming now, standing to get a bit closer to his height; though he still towers over you. Mal is right on your heels, placing a hand on your shoulder in an attempt to placate you. You brush her off. Take another stride toward Frankie.

“There shouldn’t need to be an official rule against it, Frankie. It’s common fucking sense — which clearly, you have none of.”

Visibly offended, he says nothing. Just tenses his jaw.

“Why did you come tonight?” you continue, voice more level now; direct.

You hear your name uttered behind you, tone pleading, warning. You ignore it.

“Seriously, why?”

He’s quiet for a long, drawn-out moment, eyes pointed at the floor again.

“What are you talking about?” he spits, finally.

You laugh, amused and irritated, and these things somehow feel one in the same. “I mean, clearly you don’t want to be in my presence or even acknowledge my existence — unless it’s to cockblock me — so why are you here?”

His brows furrow; lips twist. For a second, you think he might actually leave. He adjusts his cap, jangles the car key in his pocket — but Benny stops him before he can take a step.

“Just — cut it out, okay? Both of you.”

“He’s the one-“

“I don’t care,” Benny interjects. Scanning the room, you catch sight of Santi and Will and Mal, all visibly agitated, and you sigh.

Guilt washes over you, then. The twisting of Santi’s face, Mal’s doleful stare, the wordless look exchanged between Benny and Will. All confirm your fear that you’ve effectively ruined their night.

“I’m sorry,” you mumble.

Frankie echoes your apology. Still, the others aren’t impressed.

“I don’t know what’s been going on lately with you two, but you need to figure this shit out,” Benny says. He sounds like a parent: stern and slightly disappointed. “Can you please just — go in the other room and talk through it?”

Though you haven’t much cared for Frankie’s opinion as of late, you still turn to him to gauge his reaction. He appears just as hesitant as you are, just as guilt-stricken. But something more lurks behind his eyes — something like fear, anxiety. Why, you aren’t sure.

You raise a brow at him, a wordless question. He answers with a sigh.

“Fine,” you both say at once.

“Thank goodness,” Mal chimes. Herding you two like cattle with a hand on each of your backs, she leads you out of the living room and into the adjoining hallway.

Her voice drones behind you as you make your way toward the third door on the right. Shall we continue the game?

The guest room is primly kept. It appears almost untouched at first glance, though you know that to be untrue. You’ve stayed here before, after blurry nights spent drinking shitty gin and singing karaoke. That must’ve been years ago now, though, after Mal and Benny first bought this house, and you begin to wonder if your tumultuous friendship with Frankie only made you neglect your friendship with her. And that only adds to the anger stirring inside of you — because what was it all worth, if it’s ended up like this?

Frankie closes the door behind him with a click, and the air in the room feels exponentially thicker.

“What the fuck was that?” you hiss.

He scoffs. “Me? You’re the one who freaked out and started an argument over nothing!”

“It wasn’t nothing. You were cheating.”

“Please.” He rolls his eyes. Takes two steps toward you. “That’s not what this is about and you know it.”

“Oh,” you laugh, “so you are aware that you’ve been an asshole?”

He says your name, voice suddenly lower, softer. Your entire body tenses as you struggle to keep strong, to not think about how it sounded in your ear in the midst of pleasure.

“I wasn’t trying to be-”

You throw a hand up; silence him. “Well you have been,” you groan. “You’ve been a huge fucking asshole. You hurt me, Frankie. You were my best friend, and then you just… stopped returning my texts. You won’t even look at me when we’re in the same room together. Did you regret it that much?”

The room goes still. You watch as Frankie’s chest rises and falls arduously, his eyes settling on you. They’re dark, pupils blown wide, squeezing shut as he exhales long and hard.

“No.”

You quirk a brow at him, confused.

“No?”

“No,” he repeats, averting his gaze. “And that’s the problem — I didn’t regret it at all.” His eyes lift slowly, finding you again, voice more sure when he adds, “I’ve wanted it for a long time”

You can barely comprehend what he’s saying, your heart climbing its way out of your ribcage and up your throat. You gulp, feeling the shape of it there as saliva slowly slides past.

He takes another two steps forward, mere inches from you now, and your breath hitches.

“Do you know how difficult it’s been to look at you without getting fucking hard?” he whispers. “How many times I’ve fucked my fist in the past month imagining it was you?”

Your mouth falls open, stunned. “That girl at the bar-”

He shakes his head. “I thought maybe if I fucked someone else, it would help.”

“And did it?”

“I didn’t — I didn’t go home with her,” he admits, a little bashfully. “I couldn’t do it.”

His hand lifts, then, cautious and shaky. It finds its way to your face, grazes your jaw so softly you’d think you imagined it if you couldn’t see.

“Why not?” you squeak.

He nods, as if he’s finally accepting something he’s known to be true, admitting it to himself before he does so out loud.

“Because she wasn’t you.”

It feels as if your entire world has spun on its axis.

Without thinking, you wrap your hand around Frankie’s neck and pull him toward you, crashing your lips into his with a groan. He’s quick to respond, desperately tangling his fingers in your hair and winding his tongue around yours, a broken moan slipping from his throat.

For a long moment, that’s all it is. It’s clashing teeth and restless hands; the draw of blood and the taste of it, earthy and metallic on your tongue. It’s the two of you, reconciling for lost time and unshared feelings and the overlooked need for each other through tangled bodies.

And when you finally pull apart, his lips are swollen and his eyes are glazed over, and you’re sure you don’t look much different.

“Frankie,” you whine as his mouth latches to your neck, warm and wet. He doesn’t retreat; just hums against you.

“Need you,” you say breathlessly. “Need you to touch me.”

His large hand skates down your front, under the waistband of your leggings. He presses two fingers against your clothed clit, and your knees buckle. You lean into him, bracing yourself with a hand on his chest as he begins rubbing small, deliberate circles into cotton.

Lips trailing up to your ear, he nibbles at the lobe. Presses his tongue just behind the shell of it and sighs. “Been wanting this since that night. Want to make you feel good. Want to do it right.”

You mewl in response, high-pitched and too loud, and you have to bite into his shoulder to keep from crying out again. He’s still working you toward the brink, pace relentless, beseeching you every time you buck into his hand.

There you go baby, that’s it; I got you.

You know he does, can feel the support of his unoccupied hand at the small of your back, holding you to his strong body. And god, how you’ve missed the feeling of it pressed to yours. You think that that alone could make you come.

You feel yourself slipping as your orgasm approaches, legs slumping underneath you more and more with every pass of his fingers. “Frankie,” you warn, teeth still anchored in his skin. “I’m going to-“

The words are muffled, but he gets it. Presses down harder and works his fingers faster. “Come on baby,” he growls in your ear, “come on.”

Your orgasm hits you so hard that you collapse, your body dead weight in Frankie’s grip as you writhe. He grasps onto you tightly, working you through it with his unyielding touch, swiping back and forth, back and forth as the final waves crest.

You’re panting when it ends, and still when Frankie helps you to the edge of the bed. Perched there, staring up at him with glassy eyes, you realize you’ve never felt so sated and so needy at the same time.

“Frankie?”

“Yeah, baby?”

“Please fuck me.”

He should probably say no. After all, you’re in your friends’ guest room, people just a few hundred feet on the other side of the door. But then again, he’s already made you come.

You watch him consider it, eyes flickering to the door and back to you, dark and deep and pooling with want.

In the end, he can’t help himself.

“Can you be quiet, querida?”

You nod, though you’re sure that even if you said no, he wouldn’t care. He’d do just as he’s doing now: pressing your shoulder, encouraging you to lay down on the bed; helping you pull your sneakers off, then your leggings, then your shirt; stepping back to marvel at your half-naked form before him.

“Fucking beautiful,” he murmurs, and your entire body heats from the inside out. You feel like you’re on fire, his stare keeping you alight as he undresses down to his boxers.

He climbs over you with a hand on either side of your head, pressed into the mattress. The lip of his hat bumps you, and you immediately rip it off of him, tossing it aside and tangling your fingers in dark curls.

You tug at them, dragging him down until his face is hovering just above yours, and he responds with a strangled moan. His body pressed to yours now, you can feel the weight of his hard cock against your clothed pussy. Your mouth finds his again in a languid kiss — slow and deep. You feed each other sighs and moans, taste each other’s longing. His hips roll into yours with every exhale, teasing you — reminding you, and you feel like you’re steadily going insane.

He pulls back, panting. Rests his forehead on yours.

“Can I take this off?” he asks, plucking at the strap of your bra. You nod furiously. Lift the upper half of your body so that he can undo the clasps.

Breasts suddenly exposed, you feel your nipples begin to harden. Frankie groans at the sight of them, so pert and needing. Wordlessly, he dips his head, buries his face in your chest. His tongue wraps around one of your nipples and you cry out, hand flying to your mouth in an instant.

“Oh fuck,” you moan into your palm.

“Feel good?” he asks, knowing smirk playing on his lips as he shifts his focus to the other nipple. You feel so sensitive everywhere, the heft of his tongue going straight to your clit, and you can barely answer him. A shaky yes tumbles from your mouth — the best you can do. He hums, so low the vibrations burrow under your skin and barrel through you, and you keen at the sensation.

“God, you sound so pretty,” he sighs as he rolls one of your stiff peaks between two fingers. His other hand drifts down your body, dips between the two of you and pulls your panties aside.

“Fuck,” he curses, fingertip brushing over your seam just barely. “You’re soaked, bebita. That all for me?”

“Mhm,” you whine. “All for you Frankie; fuck-“

He’s shifts down your body, hooks both arms under your legs and drags you toward him in one swift motion, leaving you no time to process before his tongue is on your pussy. “Have to taste you,” he babbles drunkenly, plunging into your leaking cunt and lapping at you.

“Oh, oh shit,” you moan as he drags his tongue up to your clit. “Please baby, please.”

“I know; I got you,” he soothes. Then he begins to lave your clit with the soft flat of his tongue, warm muscle encircling the throbbing nub. Wide eyes staring up at you, he observes intently. Responds to every sound, every tell with a switch in direction or an increase in pressure. He’s so attentive, so desperate to make you come on his mouth, and it sends you into a sort of delirium.

Your second orgasm hits you out of nowhere, slams through your body with so much intensity, you don’t even have the strength to warn Frankie before your release is gushing all over his face and, undoubtedly, the bed below.

He growls against your cunt. Comes up for air and kisses you hard, letting you taste yourself on his tongue as he tugs his boxers down and frees his aching cock. Notches at your entrance without detaching his lips from yours.

It’s a stretch — you recall it being so last time too — though the alcohol had done wonders to loosen your body. Now, you feel every devastating inch of him as he pushes in. He’s gentle. Tells you how good you’re doing as he feeds you more and more of his cock. There you go, that’s my girl, taking it so well for me. And for some reason, him calling you his nearly makes you come again.

He notices the way you preen in response. Thumbs across the slope of your jaw as he settles inside you. “You like that, baby? Like me calling you mine?”

“Yes, Frankie — fuck. Want it.”

You don’t specify whether you mean him or his cock. You’re not entirely sure. Not that it matters. You know he’ll give you both, give you anything. Can feel it in the way he gazes at you through heart-shaped eyes as he lets you adjust to him.

“So fucking beautiful, you know that?”

Your eyes roll back and saliva pools in your mouth. “God,” you breathe.

“I’m serious,” he says, finally beginning to move. The slow drag of his cock brushes your g-spot and you gasp. “Was so stupid before, fucking you drunk. Wanna remember every second, every noise you make, every inch of your perfect fucking body.”

“Jesus, Frankie.”

He pushes back in with one deep thrust. Sets a pace that, while not rough, definitely isn’t gentle. You begin to babble and writhe under him. Hook your legs around him so he can get even deeper.

He groans. “Tell me how it feels, baby.”

“It’s so fucking good,” you cry. “Feels like fucking heaven, Frankie.”

“Nah, that’s you.” He lets his head fall on your shoulder, drives into you faster. Pants into the crook of your neck. “Perfect fucking pussy.”

It ends all too quickly — with your fingernails dug into his back and his sweaty curls sticking to your forehead. Your cunt clenching around his cock, pulling his orgasm out of him just as yours begins to roll through you. You free fall from the cliff’s edge together, breathless moans spilling between your slotted mouths, his warmth flooding you and leaking from the place you’re still connected.

As the room around you slowly comes back into focus, you hear the sound of distant laughter. Benny’s boisterous chuckle and Mal’s much softer one. Clearly distracted, they’re likely blissfully unaware of what’s just happened. You giggle, covering your face as Frankie pulls out.

“What’s so funny?” he asks, prying your hands away.

“We’re gonna have to get them a new bedspread. We just defiled this one.”

He stands, then, pulling you upright with him. You squeal as blood rushes to your head and your vision goes staticky.

“Worth it,” he smirks. Gives you a chaste kiss. “Got my girl back.”

You dress and rejoin the group as inconspicuously as possible. Pray they don’t notice the way you’re wobbling on your feet, or the sheen of sweat that’s coated your skin.

“You sort everything out?” Santi smirks knowingly as you reassume your place on the couch, Frankie settling back into the corner.

“Yeah,” he mutters, refusing to make eye contact.

“It’s about time,” Benny shouts from the kitchen. Frankie’s head shoots up, pivots toward his voice.

“What do you mean?”

He emerges in the doorway with a shit-eating grin. Mal stifles a laugh from the loveseat.

“Just saying it’s about time,” he shrugs. “That’s all.”

Shit; apparently you hadn’t been as quiet as you thought.

The others chuckle as you and Frankie exchange a mortified look. The embarrassment is short lived though, Will clapping his hands together, asking what game you all want to play next.

An hour later, after a couple rounds of Codenames and another wine cooler, you head out the door with Frankie right beside you. It feels odd, not hiding anymore. But more so, it feels right.

He leans you against your SUV under silver moonlight. Kisses you with plush, soft lips against yours; restless hands roving up your sides. Pulls back with a suspiciously large grin.

You cock an eyebrow at him. “What?”

“Nothing,” he says. “Just glad I stopped being an idiot.”

“I don’t know about that,” you tease, and he smacks you gently on the arm.

“Come over?” he asks, his hand draped over your waist.

You think on it for only a second. Nod. “Yeah. As long as you make me a grilled cheese.”

“That can be arranged.”

end notes: thank you so much for reading! if you enjoyed, please consider commenting and/or reblogging :)

#Frankie Morales #Frankie Morales x reader #Frankie Morales x f!reader #Frankie Morales x female reader #Frankie Morales fic #Frankie Morales smut #Frankie Morales fanfiction #Triple Frontier #Triple Frontier fic #Triple Frontier fanfiction #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal fic #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal smut

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jinxthequeergirl · 3 months ago

Text

Fireworks

pines family x parental figure!reader/ implied stanfordx reader

Summary: based on the song "Fireworks" by mitski- you've lost yourself in your journey to bring back your friend from another dimension that you've almost forgotten about your family.

Warning: ANGST BABY!!!!! WOWOW! Also corny as hell

Enjoy

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You wondered how long you'd feel like this. The sense of constant unease and dread and guilt.

"You're going to drive yourself crazy staring at those pages."

You blinked with heavy eyelids as you stared at the half complete layout of the large portal machine. "I can figure it.. I know I can..." You mumbled.

"There's nothing we can do until we have the last journal."

You said nothing but focused on the pages, thinking till your brain was numb.

Stan sighed, realizing he wasn't getting you away from those books without a fight.

"ME and the kids are going to be outside incase you care to join us."

You mumbled or groaned he couldn't really tell the difference. He frowned he had noticed a change in you most recently though he knew you didn't think he did.

A slight grey in your eyes as you continued to work. He knew you wanted to bring Stanford home so did he. But not to the extent you had been pushing it too. So he quietly went to meet the kids upstairs.

You felt your eyes growing heavy. Your thoughts drift as you stared at the page and wondered when you had gotten to this point.

You had spent so much time crying for Stanford to come back, so much time blaming Stanley for losing him. Then the feelings just fossilized one morning. You knew they where still there. You still felt the grief, the guilt the anger.

But for some reason, you'd forgot how to cry.

You heard a faint popping from upstairs but didn't think much of it at first. Still dazing into the old journals.

Trying for anything. A spark of an idea a glimmer of hope, the courage to face what you feared be true, to feel less lifeless again.

hoping that the almost numb feeling wasn't your lost feelings for him. If that was the case, then that would mean you'd given up hope on finding him again.

You hear the popping again, followed by cheering. You look up for the first time in what feels like hours. Your neck hurts, and you groan in pain as your eyes are met with a photo of you and Stanford.

Is this what he would want for you? The feelings you had were real and still hurt. The feelings you had for Ford were just the same.

Your eyes drift to the photo next to it. You and Stanley and the kids squished together to fit the frame. A wide grin across all your faces.

You heard the popping and booming louder this time.

This isn't what Stanford would want for you. You decide as you push yourself out of the chair with a stretch and up the basement steps.

You he'd want you to realize that what you felt was healing. Not losing hope or feeling for him like you feared.

Your eyes adjust to the light as you step into the warm summer night.

He'd want you to connect with the people you called family.

"Y/n, you made it! We still have some fireworks left!" Mable cheered as you shut the door that led to the roof. "I saved all your favorite colors incase you came out."

Take care of yourself.

"I dunno guys. Isn't this kinda dangerous?" You asked. The twins shared a look with eachother before you laughed.

"Who am I kidding? Hand me the biggest one you have!" You exclaimed.

Stan laughed. "Ah there they are the y/n we all know and love!"

And more importantly be there for them.

You placed an apologetic hand on stans shoulder and offered him a smile. Which he returned.

You sat on the edge of the roof watching the fireworks for most of the night feeling your worries wash away.

Everything was gonna be alright with them by your side.

It always had been.

~~~~~~~☆~~~~~~

#ford pines x reader #gravity falls x reader #stan pines x reader #Stanley pines x reader #stanford pines x reader #Spotify

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wangxianficfinder · 29 days ago

Text

Fic Finder

Oct 25th

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1. Hi. I’m looking for a fic and I don’t have a ton to go on, so here’s hoping someone knows which fic! I’m looking for a canon divergence, possibly a fix it or time travel fix it. It’s NOT the dynasty fic where WWX is WRH nephew and he disappears from the lectures. The specific scene I have in my mind is WWX avoiding the arriving sects at night less city, no one knows he’s been with the dafan wen or I guess where he had been. I know it makes a point to stress he’s dressed with care and in robes that are much nicer than he ever had with the jiang, I know they are using wen yuan to distract him bc he’s nervous about madam yu and the jiang arriving, I know wen Qing gives him an aggressive supportive pep talk in an inner courtyard while he basically is sitting there catastrophising. I can’t remember who is meant to be the wen sect leader, whether it’s wen Qing, wen Ning, or popo or maybe WWX?? I don’t think HE is the sect leader. LWJ might know he’s there and anticipating the sects arriving as well because he’s nervous how people will react seeing him there. I can’t remember if when Qing and wen Ning are time travelers. It’s KILLING MEEEE. I’ve been hunting thru my bookmarks and all the tags I can think of and I’m not finding anything. I know it’s complete and most likely over 20k words. (I’m wondering now if it’s that one he uses a talisman to make a lightning trap to save dafan village from a legendary beast??? And there’s flooding?? And LWJ and JWY happen upon him afterwards Idk I could be wrong) @takemitchyleaps

FOUND? We'll Build A Dynasty (one the heavens can't shake) by One_eyed_God (T, 66k, WangXian, 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, Minor XuanLi, Not JC Friendly, Time Travel Fix-It)

FOUND? Cultivating immortality by KizuKatana (E, 231k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Rogue Cultivator WWX, Mutual Pining, BAMF WWX, BAMF LWJ, Angst with a Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, unreliable narrator, Found Family, First Time, novel canon relationship dynamics) Is this the one mentioned in #1 parentheses

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2. Hello ! I was searching for a fanfiction where WWX was under Lwj care who spanked him and punished him but also took care of him . It comes in series... Lwj master in CR. In one series LWj beat Wwx so much that he himself got punishment in ancestral hall. I remember reading it a few years back but can't find it now

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3. Hii!!! Can you help me find a fic where wwx dies in guanyin temple and promise lwj that he will return. Then wwx is reborn in the modern world where he is a scientist and a politician son. He sometimes remember lwj through dreams. He also has a girl best friend who helps him. Later he makes a machine to return to lwj in cloud recess and they reunite.

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4. Hello! i'm not entirely sure if i've mashed two together in my head or if it really is just one fic but here it goes: Lan zhan and wei ying are neighbors. a-yuan is wei ying's son, lan zhan works with a class of students on music cultivation. wei ying and a-yuan are actually hiding out from the wen's and the culminating scene has a-yuan possessed and needing to be cleansed and lan zhan and his students helping. I believe it was a multi chapter fic too. thank you so much!!

FOUND? Hear a song this deeply by so_shhy (T, 87k, WangXian, Modern Cultivation, Kind of academia AU, Music, Kid Fic, Canon-Typical Violence, Action/Adventure, To An Extent, canon-typical JGY behaviour, Original Character(s), Slow Burn, Fluff and Angst, we love us some tragic backstory, Happy Ending, for wangxian at least, [slaps fic] this baby can fit so much plot in it)

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5. Hello, I'm looking for a fic I've read before. Wei ying is at the lectures in CR and sees that Lan Zhan receives presents from people but rejects them. He was befriending him and thinks that lan zhan won't reject his present ..so he gives him a jade pendant. But lan zhan crushes it and WY gets mad about it and starts to avoid lz.

It was completed and I think just one chapter. Thanks in advance @smarti1997

FOUND? For you by 10thNoNamePerson (T, 16k, WangXian, Cloud Recesses Study Arc, Cloud Recesses Shenanigans, Canon Divergence, No War AU, Teen Wangxian, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Jealous WWX, Soft WangXian, No Sunshot Campaign)

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6. good day! so i was reading this wangxian dimension travel fic and i suddenly remember that one story; a student from modern world lost her way in the forest and kinda met wwx who just became yiling patriarch. i think her name is lily? or something close to that name. i know that i bookmarked it before and i dont know why but i cant find it (not sure if im using the correct tags or what) pls help me find it. thank you for ur help! 💙

additional info:: i think her bag is color yellow? she also went with wy to kill wen chao and thats how jc and lz met her. theres also a scene where she stopped wy during "the soup" encounter with jzx and she got hurt. @httpskaixx

hello! actually, the "i told u when i came i was a stranger" was the story i was reading when i submitted my ask. i followed the note and search it with "isekai" tag and i found it!! the story i was looking for is "wait a minute!" thankyou so much!

NOT FOUND! i told you when i came i was a stranger by Caramelized (M, 50k, OFC/LXC, minor WangXian, Isekai, Transmigration, Fix-It, Canon Divergence, Amateur cartography, Butterfly Effect, Sunshot Campaign, Somebody Lives/Not Everyone Dies, No Golden Core Transfer, Dimension Travel, Politics, LXC the politician, Self-Insert, Foreknowledge, Angst with a Happy Ending) If not, the requester might want to search "isekai" for The Untamed or Módào Zǔshī - Mòxiāng Tóngxiù on AO3.

FOUND! Wait a minute! by Anonymous (T, 45k, WangXian, World Travel, Dimension Travel, Canon Divergence, Transmigration, Crack Treated Seriously, Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Fluff and Angst, Attempt at Humor, I've Been Told That OC has Kagome From Inuyasha Vibes, Isekai)

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7. JGY kills nie huasaing and delivers his saber to NMJ which reveals what actually happened to him so now Wei Ying, with the help of Lan Zhan, must resurrect NHS (at NMJ’s “request”) wen Ning style before NMJ kills like everyone. I’ve been looking on AO3 but the fic might have been on tumblr or cross posted. @i-cant-think-of-one-meh

FOUND? Digging Graves by nirejseki (Not rated, 13k, NHS & NMJ, WWX & XY, wangxian, Revenge, Broken Moral System, Non-Graphic Violence, the masterless sabers)

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8. Hi! I'm looking for a fic where Wei Ying is an ex-model who had an iconic magazine photoshoot (inspired by Burt Reynolds apparently), and a younger Lan Zhan is a big fan of him. Lan Zhan encounters him on a coffee run and they get together. I vaguely remember Wei Ying shouting that he's a cougar. I guess the title is along the lines of "came for the coffee" but I'm not sure anymore since I really can't find it. Thank you so much!

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9. Hi I’m looking for a fic that might have been deleted but I’m really hoping I’m just missing it. It was a one shot on the longer side, ABO dynamics, where LWJ turns WWX into an omega when they end up quarantining together over the pandemic. It used to come up pretty high when I sorted by kudos, so hopefully someone’s heard of it :( thank you so much!

FOUND! the twisting of secondary genders by HeavenlySkyfarer (E, 7k, WangXian, Modern, A/B/O, Non-Consensual Secondary Gender Modification, Extremely Dubious Consent, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Forced Heat, Baby Trapping, Questionable Use of The Quarantine As A Plot-Device For Questionable Porn, Dark LWJ)

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10. hii!! i've been looking for this specific fic thats on ao3 for a while.. the jist is lan zhan and wei ying are living together post-canon as a happy couple until they go night hunting together to figure out this pattern of suicides in a town or something? they don't really find much and head back home but it turns out lan zhan has gotten cursed and is now slowly declining mental health wise-- he pulls away from wei ying (to which wei ying is very sad about) and eventually tries to leave on bichen in the middle of night to go commit suicide, but wei ying catches him, realizes he's cursed, and helps him and then yay happy ending? thank you! @hyperizzation

FOUND! What lies beneath the bones series by seachronicles (E, 104k, WangXian, LSZ & LWJ, LXC & LWJ, LQR & LWJ, Hurt/Comfort, Heavy Angst with a Happy Ending, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied Childhood Sexual Abuse, Childhood Trauma, Trauma Recovery, Rape Recovery, PTSD, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Disordered Eating, Survivor Guilt, Grief/Mourning, Canon Divergence, WangXian Get a Happy Ending, Suicide Attempt, Implied/Referenced Sex, Hurt LWJ, LWJ Needs a Hug, LWJ Whump, POV LWJ, Character Study, LWJ is Not Okay, Mental Health Issues, Post-Canon, Sad LWJ, Depressed LWJ, Self-Esteem Issues, Canonical Character Death, LWJ-centric, Touch-Starved LWJ, Case Fic, Night Hunt, Ghosts, Curses, Suicide, conversations about suicide, Past Sexual Abuse, Past Child Abuse, only referenced, WWX Takes Care of LWJ, Soft WWX, Hurt WWX, but differently, Guilt, WWX gives him the hug, POV WWX, Self-Harm, nothing too graphic, Established Relationship, Mystery, Hair Washing, Wound Tending, WWX is So Whipped, wangxian literally live their cottagecore dream, WangXian in Love, Secrets, LWJ has a secret, Vulnerability, Drunk LWJ, Protective WWX, Miscommunication, Soft LWJ, Eating Disorders, Suicidal Thoughts, Recovery, LWJ needs therapy, he gets that therapy, LXC Tries, LQR Being an Asshole, Dad LWJ, Chronic Pain, Dissociation, LWJ Has OCD, Sex between Wangxian, Dubious Consent, because they don't know how to communicate, They Learn, Happy consensual sex, Mild Smut, Eventual Smut, Aftercare, Fluff and Smut)

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11. Searching really hard for a fic where wwx adopts a-yuan without telling anyone but lwj thinks a-yuan is wwx's bf, so when wwx finally asks him out and kisses him , lwj refuses and tells he never knew wwx was the kind of guy to cheat. He apologizes to wwx later when a-yuan visits him in university, I think. @maskdmafia

FOUND?🔒 breathe in the air, the last of its kind by wereworm (T, 27k, WangXian, Modern, assumed cheating, Miscommunication, gc transfer modernised as hand-wavey illness (referenced/implied), 5+1 Things)

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12. I read a fanfic awhile back where child Lan Zhan meets child Wei Ying while Wei Ying is still on the streets as an orphan. Lan Zhan gives him something, I can’t remember if it’s a toy or food. Then for the following years Lan Zhan spends time trying to find Wei Ying to check up on him using musical cultivation. There’s a woman who he calls to find him, one day she does find him. I believe it’s around the time Wei Ying and Jiang Cheng arrive at the cloud recesses.

I also think, and I might be combining two different fics here but hopefully I’m not, but the following plot is them falling in love while Wei Ying comes to term with the horrific and graphic abuse that Yu Ziyuan put him and other servants through and they end up investigating, finding proof, and she faces punishment. Pretty sure it’s an A/B/O fanfic where Yu Ziyuan forces Wei Ying to hide he’s an omega(?) for some reason. I think a chastity belt is involved that Yu Ziyuan put Wei Ying in. Jiang Cheng’s father resigns as sect leader when her crimes come to light.

Any help would be greatly appreciated, this has been a thorn in my side for the past few weeks. @staykookedsuga

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13. Hello! I have an ask for the fic-finder 😅

It's been a long time since I read this one, so it's an older fic (at least more than 3-4 years ago). It was centred around MDZS as a story with Jiang Wanyin as the MC and YLZ as the villain. Our main characters had a whole fandom around it, where LWJ is a famous author and WWX a not-very-popular artist who drew fanart of the most hated character in the book "Yiling Laozu" (I think he was an artist, could also be a fellow writer).

I remember there was lot of fandom discourse about WWX and his choice of character to support and how YLZ was always jealous of JWY and did actually maliciously cause everything he was accused of in this alternate MDZS canon. Then, suddenly, LWJ + WWX end up pairing up for a fandom event (a big bang or smth similar), and WWX has the idea of a story where canon divergence occurs and YLZ is a good person instead (like actual canon) and LWJ agrees to write for it.

This was as far as I had read for it. From I remember it was a WIP. Thanks <3 @indelibleme

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14. Hello :) I could use your help to find a fic: Modern AU, LWJ is an epidemiologist, at the start LWJ finds A-Yuan alone at a train station and waits with him until WWX shows up, WWX and A-Yuan move in with LWJ, A-Yuan locks himself in the bathroom and LWJ kicks the door in to get him out, WWX reenters Uni to finish a degree, LWJ sort of punishes him so he concentrates on work?, LWJ starts the process of adopting A-Yuan, WWX and LWJ confess in the bathroom during a family party. Thank you so much! @die-or-worse-be-expelled

FOUND? 🔒 Lost Boys by raitala (E, 115k, WangXian, LSZ & WWX, LSZ & LWJ, Modern, Kid Fic, Gen or Pre-Slash, hints of wangxian, finding your found family, A-Yuan is a sweetie, Emotional Baggage, LWJ is on the Asexuality Spectrum, Neurodivergent LWJ, Hurt/Comfort, sugar daddy LWJ, LSZ is the bestest boi, LWJ is trying his best, WWX needs a hug, background societal homophobia, Grief/Mourning, Under-negotiated Kink, Dom/sub Undertones, Mild Painplay, Sharing a Bed, Family Feels, Nice LQR, Adoption, Oral Sex, Anal Sex, Spit Kink, Slow Burn)

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15. Heyy. Just wanna start of by saying your account is an absolute life saver. Thank you so much for the hard work you guys put into getting fanfiction.

I need help finding a fic: Jiang Cheng, blaming Wei WuXian for soemthing he did (can't remember), finds a magical array to erase Wei WuXian from this world. Only to find out they loose the Sunshot Campaign without Wei WuXian and his demonic cultivation so he works together with Lan Wangji to bring him back and save everyone in this universe.

There's alot of angst and family bonding as well as feels. I remember that the heirs of the great sects were taken prisoner in the world Wei WuXian was erased and that's when Jiang Cheng wants to solve his mistake.

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

FOUND? Not This Time by Marinelifeclub (M, 93k, WIP, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Time Travel, Angst, Dark LWJ, Protective LWJ, YLLZ WWX, Resentful WWX, Established Relationship, POV Alternating, Sunshot Campaign, Hurt/Comfort, Eventual Smut, Minor XuanLi, not for jc fans, eventual 3zun, Kid Fic)

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16. Hi! I’d love your help in looking for a fic on AO3. I can’t remember if it was a long one-shot or a series, but here are plot points I do recall:

- Lan Wangji stays behind at Yiling with Wei Wuxian

- the Lans don’t hear from him for a long time, until people report sightings of him in Yiling

- Lan Xichen and Lan Qiren take a few other Lan disciples with them to investigate

- They almost don’t recognize Lan Zhan because he looks different - he is happy. He now wears a painted symbol of a cloud on his forehead, and allows the village children to braid his hair with beads. He is considered pretty, and either a deity/god or just someone special by the villagers.

I hope this rings a bell, I’ve been trying to find it for ages and I’ve had no luck! @ogfangirl93

FOUND!🔒Unpack Your Heart by Terri Botta (Isilwath) (T, 22k, wangxian, Romance, Everybody Lives, Canon Divergence, LWJ Has Feelings, Protective LWJ, Burial Mounds Settlement Days, LWJ Stays at the Burial Mounds, Burial Mounds Ensemble as Family, Wangxian in Love, YLLZ WWX, Lan Clan Elders are Assholes, Minor Transgender Character, Qiongqi Path Divergence, LWJ loves his bunnies)

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17. Hello! I’m looking for a fic, I can’t remember a lot of it and some of the plot points might be off but here’s what I remember; WWX dies but is approached by the previous wielder of the sword that was in the xuanwu of slaughter’s cave and they say smth I forgot and then wwx is back in the past and he can wield said sword and then I can’t remember anything else. Thanks for the help!

FOUND? Did I Not Explain Why the Sunset Turns Red? by 3988Akasha (E, 110k, wangxian, time travel, canon divergence, Canonical Character Death, Soulmates, Demonic Cultivation, Original Female Character(s), Emotional Constipation, Minor Character Death, Hand Jobs, Sexual Content, Bathing/Washing, Idiots in Love, Poetry, Mild Gore, Anal Sex, Angst, Rimming, Blow Jobs)

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18. Hello! For Fic Finder, please! I am looking for a canon au where some people were shapeshifters and during the Sunshot Campaign Wen Ruohan was poisoning the shapeshifters and forcing them under his control. I remember one scene in particular where a Wen dire owl was shot down and it ended up being one of these kidnapped/enslaved shapeshifters. I think the poison was some kind of dust that had to be inhaled? Thank you for your help! @gloriousclotpole

FOUND! 🔒 Unstoppable by Netrixie (T, 150k, WangXian, LXC & WWX, Canon Divergence, Eventual Happy Ending, Unreliable Narrator, Slow Burn, Minor Original Character(s), Cloud Recesses, Unresolved Sexual Tension, Unresolved Romantic Tension, Canon-Typical Violence, Canon-Typical Angst, Wolf-shifter WWX, Resolved Sexual Tension, Resolved Romantic Tension, Fix-It, Werewolf, Shapeshifters, Sunshot Campaign, Translation Available, Russian, Canonical Lan arm strength)

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19. Hi. I am looking for a fic where Baoshan Sanren knows about Wei Wuxian’s fate. She can’t interfere directly so she trains Mo Xuanyu as a cultivator. Mo Xuanyu joins the jin sect and has a good relationship with Madam Jin helping protect jin Ling. He leaves the sect and the cultivation world to write the ministry exams for the imperial family. But he is assassinated before he can write the exams. Instead, Wei Wuxian, who wakes up in Mo Xuanyu’s body writes the exams and rises high. Soon enough, he catches the eye of the emperor because his genius and tendency to modify talisman. The emperor then finds out what happened in the cultivation world and gives them an eye opener. Mo Xuanyu’s ghost also appears and reveals Baoshan Sanren’s plan and his agreement to go along with it. Lan Zhan, then finds out that Mo Xuanyu is Wei Wuxian, leaves the sect to go live with him on his lands outside the cultivation world. @darkshadowgrief

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20. I'm looking for a fic where Wei Ying babysits A-yuan for Lan Zhan? I think it was Modern AU but that's all i can remember maybe he taught him art?

I'm number 20 in the recent fic finder and I don't think paint smears is the one I'm looking for, not sure about the other since it's been deleted but I remember Wei Ying actually babysits A-yuan in his house or at least teaches him art at his house in his play room? And lan zhan is still at the house he just lets them be I think. I remember them learning about colors or painting something and also that lan zhan wanted to offer Wei Ying a permanent job as A-yuan's private art teacher and offered more than his regular job.

FOUND? Light travels faster than sound by Anonymous (E, 25k, wangxian) wwx is an artist commissioned to make musician!lwj's album cover, than to give a-yuan art lessons), but I think the author deleted their works?

NOT FOUND! 🧡 paint smears on sunny days by SnowshadowAO3 (E, 53k, WangXian, Comfort, Fluff and Smut, Everyone Is Alive, Modern AU, Dadji, Mutual Pining, Happy Ending, Brief Alcohol Mention, Masturbation, Blow Jobs, Hand Jobs, Accidentally co-parenting with your son's art teacher, Fatherhood)

~*~

#wangxian #mdzs #wangxian fic finder #wangxian fic search #the untamed #wangxianficfinder #long post

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syluscore · 1 year ago

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Every Version of You

A reverse harem with three variants of Leon Kennedy and feminine reader.

An average day, nothing noteworthy. Until someone intercepts you and your partner a week before you’re gearing up to head out for an assignment. Now there’s nothing average about today, nothing is normal anymore. You’ll never understand. Is it time travel? Is his soul broken apart and now manifesting different versions of himself? All you know is that an older version of Leon is here, insisting he had to come back to save your life with the help of a trusted few. And for some reason his younger self from when you two first met and survived Racoon City together is also here. When your Leon is swept away on a mission to rescue the president’s daughter from a cult in Spain, you’re left to try and prevent your coming death with his past and future self. When he returns, how do you confront everything that has come to the surface with the other two? Will you be able to prevent your ultimate demise? It’s going to take every version of him in order to save yourself.

~ Masterlist ~ Next Part ~

WORD COUNT: 3.1k

SONGS: Always - Bon Jovi and Work Song - Hozier

CONTENT WARNINGS FOR PART ONE: drunkenness, pining, repressed romantic feelings, death, depression, anxiety, tension, kidnapping, violence, drugging, water submersion, self-depreciation, thoughts of dying, desire to die, heartache, angst, hurt with no comfort

!!!!!!!!MINORS DNI! THIS POST AND BLOG ARE 18+ ONLY!!!!!!!!

PART "CHAPTER" ONE:

“I can’t sing a love song, like the way it’s meant to be.” You belt out the lyrics to the last song you remember playing in the bar before the alcohol completely took over. Despite your words slurring, you did your best to mimic the sultry rock tone of Bon Jovi.

“God, you’re so drunk,” Leon laughs as he tries to keep you up right as you make your way down the dark, city streets.

The only other patrons on this road are other drunks. All of the businesses beyond the bar are closed up and dark. You can still hear the music from the bar thumping in the distance.The late night air is chilly, but you’re too obliterated to take much notice of the goosebumps littering your exposed skin.

“Nooooooo,” you whine at Leon. “You’re supposed to sing the next part. This is a duet, Leon, come on!”

He stares down at you with an amused look on his face. “I’m not doing a Bon Jovi duet with you at 3 am in the middle of the street.”

You pout at him, stopping in your tracks in defiance. He tries to continue pulling you along, but you hold the heels of your feet firmly in place on the cobblestone. The rough texture of the restored downtown district usually pissed you off. You were always tripping over yourself on the uneven terrain, but tonight it’s helping ground you in place. You subconsciously apologize to the ground for all the times you’ve cursed it.

“I can’t sing a love song, like the way it’s meant to be.” You sing the same lyric as earlier loudly, your tone absolutely atrocious.

Leon sighs before finally giving in, replying with the next line. “Well, I guess I’m not good anymore, but baby, that’s just me.”

You squeal joyfully at his rock ballad impression before clinging to his arm again, allowing him to continue guiding you down the road.

You’re practically screaming at this point, “And I will love you, baby, always. And I’ll be there forever and a day, always.”

Leon knows he’s lost the battle. Your drunken mind knows no ration, so he sings along with you quietly. He fights the smile threatening to overtake his face, not wanting to encourage you further.

But it’s too late. When he gave in during your small fit, that was all the motivation you needed to give the city street the performance of your life.

As you continued singing, your hazy mind couldn’t keep track of the lyrics. Leon just shakes his head as you get the words completely wrong.

He stuffs the warm feeling in his chest down, locking it away as he always does. He doesn’t like how endearing he finds you. The way you carry yourself so carefreely. You’re boldly and unapologetically yourself. It’s everything Leon wishes he could be. He never allows himself to think any deeper on the feelings inside of him. Nothing good ever comes from him expressing the intricacies of the branches growing and entwining deeply in his chest.

You’ve got your claws deeply embedded into his person. He has killed for you before, many times, and he will do it again without a second thought. You’re his best friend, his partner, his twin flame, but he refuses to vocalize what you mean to him.

The world is a shitshow filled with unspeakable horrors and ill intent. Boldly caring for anything makes you vulnerable. If you have nothing, then there isn’t anything for the world to steal from you. His life is already overly complicated. He’s merely a prop for the US government. Nothing but a tool, or more accurately a weapon. He’s the weapon they use against bioweapons. A machine that serves its intended purpose and is expected to maintain itself as it sits idly by before it’s needed again.

He finds comfort in this fact somehow. An object doesn’t need to feel or process emotions. It enables him to push down his trauma and function day to day without breaking apart at the seams. If he detaches himself from the physical world enough, going through the motions is a piece of cake. Maybe he’s not living, maybe he’s merely existing, but when he’s with you… he feels everything. He wants to stay in the secureness of being numb, safe and sound within his own walls.

He shouldn’t have agreed to hit up the bar with you tonight. But after being briefed on your next assignment, you needed to be plastered to cope with the new horrors you’d be dealing with. And the truth was Leon cared about you extensively, so he could get through tonight. He’ll drop your drunk ass off at home and then seclude himself from you until it’s time to go on your assignment together.

“Oh fuck,” you holler as you trip over your own feet, exposed knees crashing into the ground beneath you. You hiss at the stinging of new scrapes on your skin.

Leon crouches down and attempts to help you up, but you’re super unsteady as your legs shake underneath you.

“We need to get your drunk ass home before you completely self-destruct.”

You giggle up at him before your eyes connect with his. Your mind goes completely blank as you soften beneath his gaze. This is what it means to get lost in someone’s eyes, it must be. The alcohol running through your system is making it hard to ignore all the pesky feelings you’re able to brush off–to stuff deep down when you’re sober.

What if he leaned down and kissed you right now? What if he finally closed the gap between the two of you? What if he completed those broken pieces of yourself and made you whole again? Finally giving into six long years worth of tension? Your eyes fall down to his plump, wet lips before rising back up to meet his stare. You subconsciously lick your lips in anticipation. Your heart feels like it’s in your throat as the pace of your breathing picks up. Your entire body feels like it’s on fire and you want nothing more than to extinguish the flames, but in the back of your mind you know you want to ignite them further.

Neither one of you break the stare down raging between you two somewhere in the middle of this forgotten street. You could be literally anywhere and it wouldn’t make a goddamn difference. Wouldn’t change a fucking thing. But you know that’s just the loneliness and liquor talking. He’s your Leon, it’s not like that. He’s not like that. You’re not like that. Right?

You’re so lost in one another that you don’t notice the sounds and shifting air around you until it’s too late. While you were lost in your own bubble, you left yourself vulnerable and exposed to the world around you. And it seems the world took advantage of that fact.

Suddenly arms are wrapped around your cowering frame. A hand comes up and covers your mouth, muffling the startled scream tumbling from your throat.

Leon darts forward to pull the person off of you when two men you don’t recognize grab either of his arms and pull him back away from you. His elbows are flying into their sides, his nails digging into their skin. His knees and legs kicking out as he fights to break from their holds on him.

“Don’t make me do this, Leon,” a deep voice speaks to him, but it doesn’t change anything. Leon keeps fighting against them. The man lets out a heavy sigh before swinging his free arm and punching Leon hard in the face, his body instantly going limp at the impact.

You realize you’re crying and whimpering as you shake in the man’s arms. His tight grip on you hasn’t faltered for even a second. You’re powerless, a helpless feeling taking over your entire being. You have no fight in you tonight. You’re too drunk and you immediately regret allowing yourself to be in such a state.

“I’m so sorry.” The man holding you removes his hand from your mouth, but before you can say anything, there’s a stabbing pain in the side of your throat. Your eyes shoot in the direction of his arm, seeing him pulling a now empty syringe away from you. You’ve been drugged. You want to panic, but a fuzzy feeling seeps its way into your muscles and bones. Before you’ve even processed the sudden turn of events, darkness wraps around you like a blanket.

You have no choice but to allow yourself to fall into it.

~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~

Waking up feels like you’re trapped underwater. The world is so far away, the only sound surrounding you being your own heart beat thrumming in your ears and the movement of the water flowing around you. Your limbs feel limp, your body weightless. The only thing you can do is allow yourself to sink into it, to embrace the sensations.

But then you begin to open your eyes.

Everything is out of focus, distorted as if looking through someone else’s glasses. You have to force yourself to blink, taking all of your energy to lift your heavy eyelids.

You can’t help it. You let them fall shut again. Even with your eyes closed, it feels like the world is spinning around you, but at least the ache behind your eyelids stops.

You almost give yourself back over to sleep. Almost.

You feel hands gripping your arms, shaking you. You assume the person is trying to wake you up and you try to force yourself up, but your blood feels thick in your veins. That under water feeling growing inside your body as well. The feeling is almost peaceful so you cling to it.

The memories start to trickle into your brain that feels like it’s vibrating inside of your skull.

You shoot your eyes open and look down, attempting to focus your eyes as you force yourself to blink rapidly. You feel so fucking high and there’s nothing you can do other then beg yourself to please come down. Even as your eyes start to focus, your brain feels trapped behind a barrier and you still can’t get any appendage attached to this useless body to just move.

This isn’t working. You close your eyes again, instead focusing on your breathing. In, hold, then out. In, hold, then out. Rinse, lather, repeat. You can feel your lungs expanding and retracting over and over in your chest; the feeling has your anxiety rising.

But it’s finally working. Somehow, some way, the anxiety is awakening your nerves and pushing the drugged out feeling away.

It probably takes twenty or thirty minutes to come back to yourself enough to comprehend what’s happening around you, but it finally does. And what you see has you feeling even more high.

You’re laying on some dingy, old couch. The room around you is dark and dank. It’s somewhere between a basement and a dungeon. The more you look around, the more you think it’s more dungeon leaning.

You slowly manage to sit yourself up, using every ounce of strength you have to achieve it. You take more deep breaths before pushing yourself up, barely managing to steady yourself as you stand and your knees threaten to give out beneath you. More deep breaths and your head stops spinning, allowing you to open your eyes again.

The room is small; just the couch, a lamp, and a door.

A few shaky paces forward and you’re at the door. Up close, you can see that the old door isn’t closed all the way. Placing one hand on the door frame for balance, you reach forward with the other slowly pushing the door open. And what you see has your head reeling more than the drugs.

This room is much larger than the previous one, the high ceilings nearly three times higher than the previous. Two men stand at a control panel surrounding a large tank of… water? It looks like bubbly, murky, thickened water. Another man stands away from the others, looking lost and out of place in a shadowy corner of the room.

But those are the least concerning elements. What has you screaming out in shock is the man up on the metal platform above the tank holding an unconscious Leon in his arms. It looks like he’s moments from dropping Leon into the mysterious vat of liquid and it has panic overtaking your system.

Every man in the room's attention darts to you at your sudden outburst.

“Oh good, you’re awake,” a man with a thick accent speaks from the control panel.

“What are you doing to him? What the fuck is going on?” You wheeze out. The room grows silent except for your heavy breathing and the weird humming noises coming from inside the tank.

Adrenaline takes over, your survival instincts kicking in as you rush towards the tank, ready to do anything to get Leon away from this death trap.

You throw yourself at the ladder attached to the platform above the tank, ready to do whatever it takes to save him. But large muscular arms wrap around you, trapping your arms at your side.

You kick and scream, anything to break free of his grasp, but to no avail. He’s so much larger than you. Even without the drugs lingering in your system, you’re still not sure you’d stand a chance against him. You’re the damsel in distress, nothing but a sitting duck waiting for your hero to come rescue you.

But the ever dependable hero is in immediate danger, mere feet above his ultimate demise.

“You ready?” The accented man speaks to the man above the tank.

“Whenever you are.” A gruff voice responds from above.

The accented man starts counting backwards from ten as the other man starts to move Leon towards the edge, ready to toss him in like nothing but a rag doll.

You’re screaming, pleading, begging them to stop. You’re in hysterics and all of the men ignore you. No one even bothers to spare you a second glance.

You’re completely helpless. You can’t save him. You’ve failed him as you always do. You know if it was you in his position, he’d have saved you effortlessly. He’d never allow you to die like this. He’d never allow you to die at all, but you can’t return that simple fucking favor.

Please let me be next. Throw me in after him. I could never live knowing I allowed him to die as if he was nothing. He’s everything. If I can’t save him, take me with him. I’ll follow him even in death. What’s a world without Leon Kennedy? I don’t want to know, please don’t make me know.

Your heart shatters as you watch Leon’s limp body fall into the vat of liquid. The man at the control panel flips a giant lever and the liquid glows. The light from the tank is blinding as the man holding you releases you to cover his own eyes.

You’ve always been a coward and you refuse to be as your best friend dies in front of you. You force your eyes to stay open through the excruciating pain burning in them.

But then as quickly as it appeared, the light disappears. The man on the platform has collapsed, unconscious above the tank. And weirdly enough, the man lingering in the shadows has collapsed as well.

You can’t stop the tears as they fall down your face, a sob breaking through your lips as the realization sets in. The tank is empty. Leon is no longer inside.

Did they fucking incinerate him?

You fall to your knees as you shake, your entire body crumbling as the situation truly sets in.

I’m so sorry, Leon. I’m sorry for being such a useless piece of fucking shit. Wherever you are, reach through to me and smite me dead with you. Drag me to the other side with you. Don’t make me stay in a world where you don’t exist.

I’ll never let you down again. I’ll remind you every day how much you fucking mean to me. You can’t be gone. Please don’t be gone. There’s no me without you.

You’ve always been larger than this world, Leon, but it’s nothing without you. The world was never worthy of you, and neither was I. But don’t fucking leave me. There’s so many things I haven’t said, too many things I haven’t said. And I’ll forever hate myself for it.

If your heart isn’t beating, then mine doesn’t deserve to beat either. I’ll rip the fucking thing from my chest to follow you wherever you are now. It beats for you and I think it always has, since the day I fucking met you.

If not this life then I’ll be yours in the next. I won’t be stupid anymore, I fucking swear it Leon.

I love you Leon Scott Kennedy. I fucking love you.

And the afterlife can’t fucking have you. I know you and I know that you can look God in the face and fight, kicking and screaming, your way back to me. It’s not your time. All the time in the world would never be enough time to spend with you.

So you bring your ass straight back here and I’ll fall to my knees, devote my life to you. I’ll pray to you if it’s what you ask of me. You are my purpose and there is no meaning to this bullshit life without you in it.

I never got the chance to properly and loudly love you. Never got the chance to show you I love you. You left this world not knowing how much you were loved. And none of it is right. I’ll burn this world down for you, Leon. I don’t care if you want me to or not. This place will not go on without you. I promise, my love.

If you don’t come back to this world, there will be no world for any mother fucker to ever come back to. No one is more worthy than you and I’ll never allow them to feel as if they are. As if any mortal soul could ever begin to compare.

You’re supposed to stay with me to the end. This can’t be the end. Is this the end? I refuse to accept this ending. I’ll rewrite the whole fucking book until it’s structured around nothing but your happy ending, Leon.

Leon. Not my Leon. I’ve lost you before you were even mine to lose. You left without knowing I’m yours.

#leon kennedy fanfiction #leon kennedy #leon kennedy fanfic #leon s kennedy #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x y/n #leon kennedy x you #leon s kennedy x reader #leon s kennedy x you #leon s kennedy x y/n #resident evil #resident evil 2 #resident evil 4 #resident evil 6 #resident evil fanfiction #every version of you #EVOY #ghostkennedy

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bidisasterevankinard · 2 months ago

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Tease tidbit Tuesday

I was tagged by @perfectlysunny02 💙

ok, so I should write other fics but this angst idea was born. meet titled(wtf?) fic "He's your forever (sometimes I wish it was me)", where Eddie pines over pregnant Buck who's happily dates Tommy and expects their baby (don't worry Eddie'll be happy eventually too)(More likely this fic is one of the part of mpreg series I plan)

Buck cooks the breakfast in crop top, and Eddie can't stop his eyes and mind wander to the little bump he's showing off with his choice of clothes. Tommy and Chris are still sleeping, so Eddie lets himself this moment of weakness when he knows no one will see him. He doesn't want anyone to catch him ogling his best friend's pregnant body, and precious little bump, that he's sure he can hold in his palm and it will fit pretty snugly. He doesn't need anyone to ask him why he's looking so fiercely. He definitely doesn't want to lie because he knows he won't convince anyone. But the truth is something Eddie will take to the grave with him.

No one will ever find out that he wishes he was staying in his kitchen with pregnant Buck and only Chris still sleeping in the house. No one will ever know he wishes Tommy wasn't so good for Buck and Buck is so in love with him. No one will ever judge him that even though he's incredibly happy for Buck and Tommy and excited to meet his godkid, he wishes it was not baby Kinard, but baby Diaz Buck growing with his body.

But it's not.

"Can you start setting the table and then wake boys?" Buck asks, not taking his attention from pancakes and Eddie hums in affirmation, readily taking the chance to stop being so miserable pining over a man who was never his. Especially not in the house Buck and Tommy just moved together right before sharing happy news about how soon their family will grow.

"Morning," Tommy's hoarse voice cuts the silence of the kitchen, and Eddie nods and fakes a smile to his friend before Tommy gets all his attention to Buck, kissing him as if he's the most precious thing he has ever seen. He puts his hand on Buck's belly, whispering something to the man. Eddie feels sick how perfectly the bump and Tommy’s palm go together. As puzzle pieces.

Buck smiles and kisses Tommy again, "don't worry, our baby was pretty kind to me tonight. Barely any nausea."

Nodding with a smile, Tommy kisses his birthmark and hugs Buck's waist. Humming the song Eddie doesn't know, Tommy sways them a little as an impromptu slow dance. It makes Buck smile so brightly Eddie wishes he had ever seen that smile at him. He never did. It's Tommy's smiles. His boyfriend puts it on Buck's face. Not him. It never belonged to him. As Buck never did.

Taking deep breaths in and out, Eddie quickly puts the last plate and almost runs to the guest room. He needs a moment to get himself together and trying to get a grumpy sassy teen to wake up is a good way to forget how the man he loves so much has a beautiful morning with his boyfriend. Not with him.

Eddie hears pieces of their conversation coming from the kitchen. He hears talking about possible nursery colors and what renovations they need to do. He hears Buck saying the date and time of his next appointment with OB and Tommy’s the most gentle voice promises to be here for Buck and their baby.

He shakes his head and runs to the bathroom. He needs cold water. He needs some time for himself. To think only about good. About how happy his friends are. Reprimanding himself for being awful to their happiness, Eddie enters the room where Chris still snores peacefully, not knowing what a battle his dad has in his heart.

Np tagging @bewilderedbuckley @wikiangela @hippolotamus @diazsdimples @devirnis @bigfootsmom @bi-buckrights @queerbuck @queerdiaz @watchyourbuck @evanbi-ckley @repressedqueen @racerchix21 @kinrdevan @theotherbuckley @theweewooshow @thatmexisaurusrex @powersuitup @pirrusstuff @saybiwithme @diazheartsbuckley @monsterrae1 @cal-daisies-and-briars @bekkachaos @lavenderleahy @leashybebes and anyone who wants to

#my wips #mpreg #bucktommy #unrequited buddie #evan buckley #eddie diaz #but also #tommy kinard #fic: He's your forever (sometimes I wish it was me)

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steviewashere · 5 months ago

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hmmm i think for a prompt i will sayyy steve/eddie for not actually unrequited with steve scared of defining their relationship bexause he doesn’t want to be rejected but their friendship is super affectionate and closer than his previous friendships <3

Okay, finally getting around to doing some of the prompts in my inbox. But I gotta admit, I may not have gone the way that this was supposed to. It's still good, but I'm unsure. Thank you for the prompt!! <3

Tags: Getting Together, Love Confessions, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Unrequited Love, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Mutual Pining, Yearning, Domestic, Bisexual Eddie Munson, Friends to Lovers, Steve Harrington Has a Crush on Eddie Munson, Steve Harrington Loves Eddie Munson, Insecure Steve Harrington, First Kiss, Non-Sexual Intimacy, Hand Holding, Back of Hand Kisses (My Love)

💕—————💕 He brushes away a stray hair from Eddie’s face and wonders, not for the first time, when they got so close on the couch.

Steve knows that he’s doomed. There’s something in his relationship with Eddie that’s new, unspoken, treacherous. And he suspects that it started with the gentle touches. The way his fingers move over the frizz on Eddie’s curls and how he can map all the scars on their torsos. He’s aware of all the noises Eddie makes in his sleep and how their legs lock into each other under his comforter. He knows where Eddie is, based solely on the echoing steps his feet make. If they move soft, he’s in his socks, moving through the hallways to avoid waking Steve up.

There a lot of things he knows about Eddie, in fact.

Coffee with three teaspoons of sugar and a splash of milk. All laundry dried, except for his jeans; and he’s allergic to the Tide, but not Gain. He brushes his teeth with Arm & Hammer, flosses twice a day, and uses spearmint mouthwash only at night. Every Tuesday between 7pm-9pm, he allots time in his schedule just for campaign planning; he needs to be reminded to eat dinner on those days, so Steve always makes something and sits with him until he’s done. Sometimes they hold each other’s hands, a reminder, Steve supposes. Eddie enjoys pepperoni and olives on his pizza, and will gladly take Steve’s olives. He takes his eggs scrambled with cheese, but colby jack, not the Kraft American slices. Bees are his mortal enemy and just one sting would upend him in the hospital. His skin burns easy in the summer, so he applies double the sunscreen, and Steve has done this all before. He has freckles on his back, over his shoulders, up the sides of his neck, on his face. Steve likes to try and count them, but loses track the moment Eddie giggles or smiles.

When he comes over to watch a movie, he always slouches on the right cushion and lets Steve wrap around his left side. He prefers sci-fi over action, but action over romance, but romance over sad dramas. His favorite animals are cats and will adamantly refuse to watch or listen to anything involving that said animal dying. If silences stretch for too long, Eddie taps his fingers over the shapes of his rings, though never slides them off his fingers. He tapes his rings because they’re too big to fit naturally—they were hand-me-downs from his grandpa on his mom’s side, a last gift given before he passed. His mom smelt like Love’s Baby Soft, so when he’s having a particularly bad day, he sprays his pillows with an old bottle he kept. (It’s almost empty and Steve already bought a new one for when it runs out, he just has to have the gall to give it to him.)

Eddie runs cold. Eddie wears three layers all the time—at least. Eddie speaks softly when it’s just the two of them. Eddie always looks at him. Eddie listens to him. Eddie, Eddie, Eddie.

That’s all Steve’s brain is.

And he knows that it’s too much for them to just be friends. But that’s all they are.

He doesn’t want that to be the case, but when he gets the chance to open his mouth and finally say something, it’s like the words die half-way out of his chest. Because Eddie’s like him, in some ways, trying to find the right person, not finding that person, going out and trying again. He hooks-up with girls on the weekdays and goes out to seedy bars on the weekends. His collarbones are sometimes riddled with hickeys; when Steve chances a glance at him, when he’s shirtless and getting ready to share the bed, before he gets in the pool, when he’s a little too warm, when he wants Steve to apply the sunscreen, when he wants fingers tracing the edges of his scars—when he wants to talk about something that went wrong with the girl.

Like tonight.

Eddie’s on his couch. Hair in his face. Shirt off.

He leans too far into Steve’s side, even if it means nothing. He laughs and places a palm on the center of Steve’s back. He shoves his cheek against the side of Steve’s face and whispers hot and harsh on his ear, wet and warm and soothing, all too close—and Steve can smell him. Musk and sweat and Love’s Baby Soft and citrus and Irish Spring and a little like marijuana. He laughs again and stumbles into Steve’s side and places his head on the nook of his shoulder. He calls Steve sweetheart and squeezes his hand.

He always does, though. All of this. He always is this. Too much and too affectionate and too sweet and too ‘Steve’s type.’

Steve can’t take his eyes off of Eddie. Wondering, not for the first time, when he’ll just say what he needs to.

“I think you’re beautiful,” Steve wants to say, “I think you’re kind. I think you’d look good underneath me on my bed. I think I like when you wear my clothes whenever you stay over. I think I’d make you breakfast forever if it meant you’d sit at my table. I think I love you, Eddie. Eddie, god, I think I love you.”

They’re just friends, though. Nothing less.

Nothing more.

And Steve’s afraid of the nuance of this friendship he has. Is it better to never say a thing? Or should he rip the bandaid off and eventually plaster it over his broken heart the moment Eddie rejects him?

Because, as is, all Eddie talks about is girls. Girls with tattoos. Girls with nerd interests. Girls with wild makeup. Girls.

And Steve, noticeably, is not a girl.

He’s none of what Eddie is seeking. Nothing of what he wants. What he desires.

“I don’t know,” Eddie sighs, “she just isn’t the one.”

Steve grunts. “That makes no sense,” he softly exclaims, elbowing Eddie. Washing in the hiss and smirk that Eddie gives him. He’d bathe in whatever Eddie handed to him, if only to have him here, like this, all the time. “It just…You say she’s perfect under you. You say she’s funny and sweet and beautiful. You say all these nice things about this girl, but she isn’t the one? None of that makes sense to me, Eds.”

Eddie’s gaze on him shifts then, something more distant and pained. His fingers splayed over Steve’s thighs, they flex and flatten and tickle. He twists his mouth. And swallows hard, enough to flex the muscles of his neck. “Yeah, I guess I did,” he murmurs. Then, he leans in further. Further, somehow, always further.

And something in Steve wilts. Because, “This isn’t fair.”

“What?” Eddie mutters, brows furrowing. “What’s not fair, Stevie?” He blinks and Steve’s immediately in a daze. His eyelashes are long and dark and creating soft shadow under his eyes. His cheeks are flushed with rosacea pink blush. And has an overwhelming amount of sweet, sugary softness in his stare—enough that Steve’s stomach stirs nauseously.

“This,” Steve whispers. He wrenches his hand away from where it, on an automatic shift, went to trace Eddie’s scars—especially the one closest to him, a wide and silvery one over his left ribs. The one that’s smooth under Steve’s touch.

Nervously, Eddie chuckles. His hand instinctively tightens over Steve’s leg. “Sweetheart, I don’t—“

“That’s what I’m talking about!” Steve exclaims, finally jumping apart. He stands shakily from his couch and faces where he sat, towering over Eddie’s stupidly big, soft eyes and his gentle scowl and the flush of his pale skin. His shadow draws his attention towards the highlights over Eddie, the light yellow on his irises and the glint of scars and that shiny silver of his decade old rings. “This thing you’re doing. The—The—Flirting!”

“Flirting?” Eddie innocently asks. He blinks again, owlishly this time.

“Yes, Eddie! Flirting! You do it all the time…You—You always call me sweetheart and you’re always touching me and…” But he takes in Eddie’s face again. How pretty he is. How stupidly endearing every aspect of him is. And he—

God, Steve can’t do this. He can’t ruin this.

“…Never mind,” he mutters, “don’t worry about it.” And he sits back down. A noticeable gap between them.

“Steve?”

He shakes his head. But otherwise remains silent.

“Steve,” Eddie calls again, softly. So small that it could’ve been lost inside the couch cushions. “Do you not like when I do those things?”

“I like them,” Steve can at least admit. “I don’t mind.”

But Eddie doesn’t touch him again. He looks away, Steve can sense it, even with his own eyes facing forward. His t-shirt is put back on, Steve can see every movement Eddie makes and knows exactly what part of his body he’s using and what exactly he’s doing.

And then they’re just silent.

Maybe he’s already ruined it. He always knew that everything would fall through the moment he admitted anything. The moment he made some sort of realization. And it’s not like the crush was unprecedented. It was slow. Small things, at first. Other things, when time gave way to them. He catalogued everything. And he knew, the moment he learned to touch Eddie where it mattered most—over his scalp and the scars and down the slope of his nose—he was already falling in love.

Of course he’s in love with one of his best friends.

He’s always in love with a best friend. Always somebody that becomes unattainable. First, it was Tommy and then Tommy started dating Carol. Then, it was Nancy and they were great, but then she wanted Jonathan. After, it was Robin and he’s fine with not having Robin in that way, thank god not in that way. He should’ve seen it coming when Eddie stuck around.

He should’ve known. Why didn’t he know?

But if he spoke, Eddie would find a reason to not love him back. That was the scary part. Tommy—he couldn’t see it. Nancy—she never loved him, not really. Robin—well, that one goes left unsaid. What would Eddie find? Would he realize how clingy Steve is? Would he become embarrassed by Steve’s romance movie type of love: drive-in dates and sweet kisses on the lips and slow embraces that lasted forever? Would he come to terms with having nothing in common, despite having everything to talk about as friends? Would he get bored? Would he just…fizzle out?

Steve can imagine it all. Becoming boring. Becoming uninteresting. Becoming unlovable.

Not being desirable.

That’s all he wants. To be desired the way he desires. All too much. All at once. Like flames engulfing the world. He wants and he wants and he wants.

But if he spoke, he’d have to continue wanting—though from an arm’s length. Because Eddie would leave, probably. Turn him down. Realize the truth about Steve Harrington.

The boy everybody wants, but nobody loves.

He’d still want Eddie, though, even if he realized.

“I didn’t know—“

“Eddie,” Steve murmurs, “you don’t have to…Don’t do this with me. Just ignore it. Please, Eds, just ignore it.”

Gentle fingers on the back of his hand. Pushing the skin upward, towards his knuckles. “And if I didn’t want to ignore it?” Eddie asks. So soft. So small.

Steve blinks, his eyes wet and his throat burning. “Don’t—“ He takes a shuttering breath as Eddie’s palm wraps around his whole hand. “Eddie, please,” he pleads, “don’t do this if you don’t mean it.”

Eddie’s hand flexes, squeezing. “Steve,” he murmurs, “look at me?”

Hesitantly, and oh so slowly, Steve makes his head move. He catches Eddie’s eyes, the first thing he always notices when they’re together, and melts. They’re like voids, pulling Steve in. A warm void, though. A hot bath. He raises their joined hands to his lips. They’re a little dry, soft and warm over Steve’s skin.

“I want to mean it,” Eddie quietly confesses.

“But,” Steve mutters, “but what about all those girls?”

“They’re not the one,” Eddie says, “they’re not you.”

“Oh.”

Oh.

Eddie gazes at him now. The way love interests do in all the movies Steve’s ever loved. With a softness like that of cat backs, the ones Eddie likes. With warmth like that of Eddie’s dried laundry. With sweetness like that of Eddie’s morning coffee. His lips are pressed into the back of Steve’s hand again.

“They’re not you,” Eddie reiterates. “They aren’t sweet to me, they aren’t gentle or funny in those silent ways you are. And they aren’t handsome with your good hair. Or warm against me. I’m with them and all I can think about is coming back to you, talking to you, holding you, laying next to you. All I think about is you.”

Steve raises his free hand to the right side of Eddie’s face. Cups his cheek, runs his thumb over his cheekbone, tangles his fingers in the hair above his ear. “You’re all I think about, too,” Steve admits. “Even when I’m hanging out with you, I’m still thinking about you.” He smiles back at the received soft one Eddie has. His dimples have never looked this good. And his mouth is plenty kissable. His face is warm and pink under Steve’s hand.

So he leans in, slowly, enough for everything to be taken back. For him to wake up from this possible dream. And when there’s nothing left to do but lean forward that extra millimeter, Steve kisses him.

Eddie tastes like pepperonis and olives and spearmint. He’s focused completely, kissing back with enough force to make Steve nearly fall backwards. His lips move as if devouring. Steve hopes he tastes just as good.

“I love you,” Eddie confesses first. “I’ve loved you for…a fucking long time.”

Steve, the hopelessly hopeful romantic that he is, melts. “I love you, too,” he breathes.

“Boyfriends?” Eddie asks, smirking, but not teasing.

He nods. “Yeah, Eds. Wanna be your boyfriend.” Something more. God, they're something more.

💕—————💕

#stranger things #steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #unrequited love #not actually unrequited #angst and hurt/comfort #getting together

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peachesofteal · 1 year ago

Note

oh the image of Simon holding Darling while Johnny holds Bee in the latest baby trap installment 🥹 I just want so much more of them just being there trying to support Darling while repenting for their mistakes, even when she fights them the whole way

🍄

Beautiful mushroom anon is referencing this.

The guys are so... annoying. Concerned. Loving. Doting. I hate them. I love them. I could write an entire fic of this angst/pining/let us help you mess. I want them showing up at every beck and call, every whim. Groveling. Crying. I want it all. (I will also probably write it all for disco baby because that's the one that's going to be a full fic.)

18+ MDNI / baby trap au / dark and mature themes

"I'm here, I've got ya." You murmur, patting Bee's back while you hold her over your shoulder, trying to bounce her just a bit, enough to get her to burp. The movements work fairly quickly, and then you're leaning back again, foot rest coming rising under your feet and tucking your giant fleece blanket up around your waist with one hand.

"Need help?" Johnny asks, and you shake your head.

"No." Be nicer, they're being super helpful. You can't help but eye him with suspicion while he smiles shyly at you, perched on the opposite end of the other couch in your living room, fingers tapping together with nervous energy.

"Do you want to try to eat some lunch?" Simon sits a tray down on the cushion beside you, a plate with a sandwich and your favorite fruits already sliced up, along with a peanut butter smoothie. He's deposited your water bottle, refilled, on the side table next to you, within arm's reach if you need it.

Bee coos with a sleepy smile, pressing her face to your chest and you blow out a breath. She's going to fall asleep on you, again.

You could give her to one of the guys...

No. Just because they come over here, and take care of you, and wait on you hand and foot, doesn't mean you forgive them.

You do not forgive them.

The peanut butter smoothie calls to you, it's perfect consistency, perfect taste something you haven't had in so long, since before you left them. You want a sip, or to just down the whole thing, you want-

A cough scrapes across the bottom of your lungs.

You turn your face away from Bee instinctively, but you're not strong enough right now to really hold her from your body, and your shoulders tense as you try to draw a breath. Fucking pneumonia. Fuck.

"Take-" you croak, and Simon reads it, scooping the baby from your arms before you start to shake with the effort of your wheezing. It makes you lightheaded, and dizzy, and your eyes blink slowly after the fit is over, trying to get your equilibrium right.

Suddenly, you're exhausted. All over again. It's frustrating, increasingly so, and your patience has run thin. It's overwhelming, and frightening, how you could have gotten this ill, and now- now you're crying.

"Oh, darling." Johnny whispers, and you shake your head.

"'m fine." you sob out a protest. Jesus Christ. You are pathetic. This is so embarrassing.

"I know ye are, I know." Neither of them move, waiting, holding their breath. They don't want to push you, don't want to encroach on your very established boundaries, so they'll wait, which is even more frustrating at times, because it feels like they're trying to draw you out, push you to your limit even if that's not what's happening. "Please, can... can I help? Do ye want to go lay down?" Johnny's inched closer now, close enough you can see the sparkling blue of his eyes, his sweet and concerned face that watches every movement you make.

The dark of your room sounds so nice, so much easier, and you nod miserably.

"Alright, come on. I've got ye." He coos, and then wraps an arm around you, plucking you from the couch like Simon plucked the baby from your arms. "Bee's right behind us." He assures, because he knows you'll flip out, and sure enough, you hear her sleepy babbles over his shoulder. "We're all just gon' have a bit of a rest, yeah?" Simon situates her in the bassinet in your room, while Johnny places you slowly onto your bed. He hovers, watching while you peel back the covers and snuggle yourself down into them, turning on your side until you can't see either of them.

The baby monitor is deposited on the pillow next to you, while Simon murmurs something about being just outside if you need them.

Whatever. You roll your eyes but something, something very small, very far away in your heart, echoes with a ping of gratitude, and you and Bee drift off for an afternoon nap.

#peaches asks #🍄 anon #peaches writes #baby trap au #soap x reader x ghost #ghoap x reader #soap x ghost x reader

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ss-skyearn · 2 years ago

Text

Took Too Much

❝They say your love lasts forever if you see the first snow together.❞

PAIRING : Hwang Hyunjin x female!reader

WORD COUNT : 4.5k.

GENRE : Angst, Smut, Fluff.

WARNINGS/CONTENT : explicit sexual content, substance abuse, longing, mutual pining, vulnerability, they're in love and just want each other, angst with a happy ending.

SMUT WARNINGS : grinding, dry humping, foreplay, petnames, launderie kink, desperation, WORSHIPPING (quite literally), unprotected intercourse (don't try at home).

A/N : This piece is a little heavier than what I usually write but am particularly fond of it; feedback much appreciated. As usual, enjoy, lovelies. ♡

But it's a silhouette you'd recognize anywhere.

Those legs that you were trapped between during stolen moments of vulnerability.

Those large palms that held you down while you shook from the white hot pleasure the same hands brought you.

That soft blonde mop of hair that tickled your inner thighs when the same head was buried in your heat, almost every chilly night like today. And every warm one too.

It's funny.

How a single 'ding' can mean so much, can seize your heart, can threaten to bring out what you have been trying so hard to suppress.

It was a heat of the moment thing, done in good fun.

"It gives me a special privilege," he'd said.

"That makes no sense. You already occupy the largest unit in my heart," you'd breathed against his lips.

Moving back an inch, he'd whined, "It'll let you know it's me and that you have to abandon everything to give me attention. Pretty, please?"

You never could say no to his doe eyes, a fact he exploited on the daily.

So you'd given in, changing the ringtone for his messages and calls to one that is seperate from the rest of your contacts.

So really, it was a spur of the moment decision he'd proposed after having been interrupted mid make out session, him claiming a special place on yet another part of your being.

It's funny, honestly.

How the tone that once was the cause of butterflies going rampant in the pits of your belly, now has reason to cause grief of the same, if not more, measure.

You know who it is before you even chance a glance at your screen, but you look all the same.

Not knowing what you were expecting, the sorrow burning a deeper shade of red is felt and you reckon that it's the price to pay for reaching out to something you know would elicit a reaction such as this.

Hyun<3

You hadn't deleted his contact, the reason you're unsure of to this day. Perhaps a reminder that he did in fact once exist in your life, had a grounding presence, a place reserved all for himself in the mainland of your heart, and not someone entirely dreamt up.

It surely felt like it at times.

The silence from his end hurt you, broke you, shattered you, despite having been at your request. Days seemingly never ending, nights even moreso, your house empty, bed cold. All of it ate away at you a little at a time, leaving behind a silhouette tainted with holes, torn and run down at the edges.

You'd be lying if you said you didn't imagine, didn't long, didn't yearn for this very moment. The moment his side of the silence ceases, the moment he, despite your asks, reaches out.

So why does your heart feel about fit to burst at the seams? Why do you so badly want to run away? Why do you feel the air suddenly burning its way into your lungs?

"Hello?" your voice is but a whisper, foreign to anyone who's known you.

"Baby?"

Eyes closing shut, you let a long drawn sigh escape your nostrils. Being all too consumed in the eagerness of the manifestation of the moment you'd been wanting, you didn't stop to consider what his voice was capable of inflicting, underestimating your own longing for everything that's him.

"Baby, you there?"

"Why are you calling me?"

A rustling sound follows, as he lets out his own well deserved breath of air.

It's a sense of relief, if anything. Knowing that you're not the only one tormented.

A sick, sadistic kind of relief, sure. But relief all the same. Labels stopped meaning much to you a while ago.

"Missed your voice," he mumbles, tone having an unusual tilt to it.

You don't respond. Or rather, you can't. For if you will yourself to speak in this moment, a choked sob is about all that'll make its way out.

"Missed you," the tilt deepens and you catch yourself mere moments before voicing out your concerns. Not having spoken to him since the pair of you parted ways, it's going to take time adjusting to the fact that he's no longer accountable to your questions, your worries. And you're no longer expected to care for him.

You are no longer wanted.

"Why are you calling?" you echo, the fact that your voice is growing quieter by the second not lost on you. If anything, it's the same fact that withholds you from saying more.

"It's the first snow today."

You know what he's thinking. It'd be a lie to say you haven't been thinking the same all day.

You stay quiet, waiting for the blow.

When did you turn into such a masochist? You know the next thing coming out of his mouth is going to tear apart your tattered heart that you've been fixing up the past year since he left you.

"We met on the day of the first snow."

Alas, bandaids don't fix bullet holes.

They're ripped apart, shredded to nothing. Tattered and frayed, used for all their worth. Leaving behind the pieces of your heart, desperately clinging onto each other, trying and failing to stay in league.

"They say your love lasts forever if you see the first snow together."

A dry chuckle follows, filling the air with despair, a feeling contrary to the act in of itself.

"That's all fucking bullshit, isn't it?" the tilt to his voice wavers, a little sniffle enough to withdraw one from you too.

"Look where it got us," the silky voice breaks, the same one you adored.

The voice that once called you 'love', whispered confessions into your hair, your ears, your core. The voice that took on a hoarse tone when you woke up in his arms on late mornings, the one that promised to be with you always.

Empty confessions. Empty promises.

"Why are you calling?" seems like this is the only thing that's making its way out of your throat tonight. The only thing that can make its way out.

He hums, then chuckles again. The same hollow laugh, detached, impassive, phlegmatic.

"You always were stubborn, weren't you?"

"Hyunjin," your voice is stern, indicative of a warning.

But he finds no such emotion behind it.

"Keep going."

"Wh—"

"Keep saying my name. Please."

It's only going to take so much for the choked sob that you've been holding at the back of your throat to be let out. And it's taking every fibre, every alight neuron within you to keep it in.

"Why?" a meek whisper. Your voice wavering.

"Because I love it. Love you," a quiet sob. His tone trembling. "Still," A single word. Sealing in an entire universe worth of meaning.

Eyes falling shut again, you don't stop the trail of heat that burns your cheeks. For the first time in a year, you let yourself go. Let yourself feel.

Even if it's grief. Even if it's sorrow.

Your let yourself feel.

A huff of breath is heard through the receiver, followed by a shudder.

"You were always better than me with cold."

Your eyes snap open, back ramrod straight and despite knowing what you'll find, you hastily draw the curtains aside. And sure enough, the snowfall is steady, windy breeze rustling leaves off their petioles, streets emptier than they should be considering the early hours of night.

And for good reason.

"Hyun, are you out?"

"You still have me all figured out," he lets out, and you can almost see his breath condensing in front of his face, courtesy the coldest day of this year's winter.

"What are you doing out? Get in right now," the assertive tone isn't something you've used in a while. Maybe you just didn't have anyone to use it on anymore.

He chuckles again, seemingly the only reaction he's able to give you, the only reaction that doesn't involve speaking, lest the wobble to his tone give him away.

"Hyun, seriously. Get the fuck in."

"Can't."

"Why not?"

"Don't know where I am," the sigh that follows lets you know that he just closed his eyes. It's the one he let out every night when he laid behind you, his chest to your back, him buried deep in you. It's when he felt the most at peace, he used to say. Coming home and being with you, feeling you, inside out. Quite literally.

Though what he's finding peaceful about the biting cold is beyond you.

"What do you mean you don't know? Hyun, don't fuck with me right now."

The next chortle is almost a laugh, the irony of your statement not lost on you. You think you hear something eerily similar to "how I wish" through the microphone, but you choose to ignore it.

"Hyunjin. For the last time, where are you?" even as your tone indicates your growing impatience, your body works on autopilot. Before you know it, you're getting up and reaching for your car keys, all while throwing a fleece jacket over your shoulder.

"Is getting you mad the only way to make you say my name?"

He's not listening. Something you're not used to. Sure, not listening and communicating is what got you both where you are today, but it's something you've never been at the receiving end of. It's the complaint he always had. And the complaint you always brushed off.

You suddenly remember another spur of the moment thing you did back in the day.

You pull out the app where you had your locations visible to each other, knowing of the other's whereabouts at all times. Your friends had called it a red flag, that he was possessive, obsessive even, to suggest something of this sort.

Little did they know it was your idea.

You see him, his little bitmoji some ten kilometres away from your current location.

Even as you're making your way to the car, shoving the steady falling snow out of the way, you make a show of protesting, "Use goggle maps and drive home."

"Can't drive either."

"Why?"

Silence.

And it gives you reason to fret. Despite the unnerving tilt, he's been responsive and dare you say vulnerable all throughout, the shake to his voice not holding him back from letting his feelings known.

So the first time he's silent is enough to make you break into a cold sweat.

"Hyun, why can't you drive?"

You hear him drag a hand down his face, some rustling of clothes following shortly after.

Another deep exhale, another beat of silence.

"Hyunjin," you settle on it as the last measure, knowing it's the only way he'll answer, the weakness he has for you saying his name made plenty clear today.

"I'm sorry," the whisper is barely there, almost lost in the sounds of your engine revving.

But he's the only one you've ever had ears for.

So you hear him. You hear him loud and clear.

"Why?" while he may not be egoistic, apologising isn't something either of you are good at. It's always been that way. A constant push and pull, a tug of war, a battle of wills, seeing you caves in first, who loses first. Hardly a healthy partnership, but what you had with him made it all worth it. More than worth it. He's the closest thing to a soulmate you'll ever have. If they do in fact exist, he's your other half.

He once was. He always will be.

"I- I just.. I'm sorry, baby."

Ice cold panic grips your heart, the external cold fading by comparison. He's apologized twice in a row now, and while your past self would call it improvement, in this moment, dread is the only sentiment you feel.

You stay silent, stepping on the race, praying he doesn't pick up on the sound of your engine accelerating.

A long moment of daunting silence later, he says something you don't understand, or rather refuse to understand.

"I took too much."

Its beyond refusal, a feeling akin to denial.

You deny to process what he just said, what he just implied, what he just meant.

"Stay right where you are," so, much like everything else, you choose to ignore it.

He seems taken aback for all of three seconds before his tone softens, "You coming to get me?"

You choose to ignore this too, convincing yourself that this is just mindless rambling to him.

His words suddenly hold no weight, his confessions empty.

Like always.

You glance at the GPS mounted to the dash.

One kilometre away.

"Do you remember when I kissed you?"

"You've kissed me more times than I can count."

Even as your heart is splitting in two, even after the recent realisation, you somehow find yourself reponding.

It's honestly all you've been wanting since he walked out of the bedroom, out of the apartment, out of your life that late September night.

"That day. The day of the first snow. The day we met."

You don't respond.

He takes it as a sign to continue.

"I knew it then. I know you knew it too."

Eight hundred metres.

"That you were for me. And I you."

Silence from your end again.

"How did we end up here?"

You know how. He knows how.

Five hundred metres.

Suddenly, a loud beep resounds, the call abruptly ending. That sends you into a chill panic, grip on the gear tightening. You pull over, and try tracing his location again. To no avail.

The location is gone. The ringtone goes straight to voicemail. Messages not delivering.

You squeeze your eyes shut, trying to remind yourself between deep breaths that he's capable of taking care of himself.

But then comes a gush of memories. Of a time when he walked straight into a pole while facetiming you once. You'd laughed then and called him a manchild.

The memory, albeit fond, doesn't help ease your worries, only aggravating the uneasy churn of your stomach.

Exhaling loudly, you talk yourself down your own anxiety first, realising that this is the first step if you want to have any chance at getting to him.

This is the general location, you remember. Once again, you kick start your car, the frantic rumble of the engine echoing down the empty roads, signifying the urgency of the affair.

It takes another twenty minutes and a slow drive down the snowy streets for you to spot a silhouette in the distance.

The person is slumped down against a rusty pole, back pressed to it, long legs propped up with feet flat on the snow covered pavement, head resting on the bend of their elbow thrown over upward knees. With their head buried in the crook of their arm, their face isn't visible, the thick smog hovering around them adding to the haze.

But it's a silhouette you'd recognize anywhere.

Those legs that you were trapped between during stolen moments of vulnerability.

Those large palms that held you down while you shook from the white hot pleasure the same hands brought you.

That soft blonde mop of hair that tickled your inner thighs when the same head was buried in your heat, almost every chilly night like today. And every warm one too.

You don't know when you got off your car, for now you find yourself looking down at the same silky golden locks.

Your boots sink into the snow, the ice underneath them melting.

He gives no indication of knowing of your arrival, and you wonder if he's managed to somehow fall asleep here.

Tiny snowflakes having made themselves home on his hair, almost forming a halo, he looks angelic. You reach out, wanting to dust them off his head before your stop, hand hovering.

You're suddenly tentative, when you didn't hesitate to tug on these very locks whenever he was in you.

That simple knowledge brings forth the harsh reality.

He's here. Right in front of you. Yet so far away.

Hand still in air, you're entirely unprepared when his head suddenly shoots up, palm grabbing your wrist.

"Baby?" his voice is gravelly, eyes bleary.

Yet he's the most perfect piece of art you ever did see.

He's gorgeous, your mind says to you— as if the fact could've ever been hidden, been denied even in incoherence.

But it's when you look closely that it comes crashing down. The realisation.

His slim face is gaunt now, eyes red and hazy, bags prominent. He's gorgeous, sure, but not as stunning as he once was.

You're suddenly knocked off balance, back pressing into the pole he was just resting on, the surface hot from his warmth.

It takes far too long for you to perceive what it is that's actually happening. His fingers dig into your hips, large palms splayed over your back, winding to the front, thumbs meeting. Warm breath tickles your neck, forcing out a gasp of your own.

"You're here," his voice is hushed, reverent even, afraid that the illusion of you would disappear any moment.

You nudge his shoulder, trying to shake him off, albeit unwillingly.

He removes himself from where he's nestled, looks you in the eye before closing them, forehead resting against yours.

From what you were able to make from that brief glimpse into his orbs, they're bloodshot, not the kind that result from lack of sleep nor the ones that speak of tiredness.

No, they are indicative of him being far away from the realm of normal thinking. It's the excuse you allow yourself to live, the reason you don't push him off you.

He's not thinking.

His tongue darts out, gliding over the plump of his lower lip, the texture of which you know by heart. Parting open, quick breaths leave him, and the proximity is to blame for the fact that it goes right into your mouth.

He puffs rapidly as if suddenly breathless, lips quivering, seemingly trying to find something to say, or perhaps trying to not say what his heart wants to.

"Tell me you're real this time."

This time?

"Hyun—"

"Just- just tell me you're really here," his eyes open slowly, drowsily, forehead still pressed into yours, hands sliding from your hip up your sides, caressing, feeling, landing on your nape.

Once again they circle you, this time overlapping over the back of your neck as he pulls you closer still, "That I'm not making you up again."

"What happened to you?" looking into his eyes again, you know it's not him. He's gone. For now.

So it's more of a question to yourself than to him.

What happened to him? What happened to your artist, your lover, your Hyunjin?

And just as you surmised, your question fell on deaf ears for he is a man on a mission.

"Baby, you're here right? With me? You came to me?"

Moving to close your nimble hands over his big ones, you relish in their warmth for a moment, the reason of said unnatural heat another thing you choose to ignore for now.

You can wallow in guilt by yourself later. All you want.

But now that you've allowed yourself this moment of weakness with him, you plan to bank on it.

"Yes, Hyun, it's me. I'm here."

Encircling your arms around broad shoulders, you pull him to you, into you. His own hands slip to your hips, squeezing you right back.

"I keep seeing you everywhere, everyday. Wherever I am. Whenever I'm awake."

You think you hear a sob, but don't let it show, for you're not immune to the sorrow either.

Maybe the apathetic front was just that, after all. A front. One you had to put up, one you had to believe in— fool yourself into believing in, if only for self preservation.

"You're not making me up this time."

He doesn't reply with words, doesn't need to. The way his hold on you tightens, lips brushing the side of your neck speaks volumes.

Hot, wet kissed trail up the column of your throat, their heat melting off any snow falling on you. Surroundings be damned, you throw your head back, giving him the silent consent.

That seems to be invitation enough for him, as his kisses turn to sucking, sucking turns to biting. He's marking you, something he enjoyed partaking in quite a lot back in the day, and you already know the colour of each of the marks that he's leaving, only through the pressure and the ratio of tongue-teeth action he spares your skin.

You permit it, indulging him, indulging yourself.

But it's when he noses his way to your jaw and finally lifts up to look into your eyes that you're reminded of reality, of his incapacitated state.

You jolt back, practically shoving him off.

He's understandably puzzled, brows creasing, panting.

"Wh— did I do something wrong? I remember you liked when I did this? You don't anymore?"

"No. It's not that. I do like it. Maybe even more than before."

The crease to his forehead eases out as he takes a single step forward, to which you take one of your own. In the opposite direction.

He stops dead in his tracks, the bend to his brows deeper than before.

"Baby, why are you going away from me?"

You try not to look into his eyes, the branching redness visibly growing new stems by the second.

"Don't go away from me."

Unlike what some might assume, you're not put off, not repulsed by gleam to his eyes, nor by their sanguinence. In not too proud of a moment, you'd say you're even used to it.

It's what you see every time you look into the mirror. What you hate, what you need.

A vicious cycle. A cursed affair.

The glint in your eye reflects his, ignites his, the two light beams meeting to string together.

The profane symphony. The impious consonance.

You did try. Tried not to let it take over you, it's been more than half a day since you last indulged in a sniff, after all. But Hyunjin is nothing if not a vice to your repressive instincts.

Your kryptonite. Your aphrodisiac.

One look at his bloodhsot eyes and you know this is it. He is the one. Who else could be the other half to your broken, tattered soul? Who else could be the mirror image of your own intoxicated orbs? Who else could slot into your cracks?

He steps forward, and this time you don't have it in you to recoil. Closing your lids, you let him snake his arms around your waist, pull you impossibly close. His face finds the comfort of your neck again, hot breathe laced with desperation marking the seeping away of the last of your restraint, taking with it any hope you had to do this right. For once.

"Don't go."

You've known him long enough to realise he's pulling apart your guard, piece by excruciating piece. You've known yourself long enough to realise you're caving, embracing the pain that is him.

"Let's get you home."

You don't see anything, too consumed in the fire that is him, his touch.

You're kissing him like you need him to breath. He's kissing you like he needs you to survive.

His hands pull down the zipper to your shirt, legs guiding you back onto the bed proper, step by step.

You land on your back with a soft thud, shirt thrown off somewhere. His own following suit soon after.

His eyes land onto the black lace adorning your chest, shining and all too inviting. The same lace he got you for your two year anniversary, the same lace he had you in that day, the same lace he had you in on countless days after that.

He places one knee between your legs, the duvet dipping, and nuzzles his face in your cleavage, taking in a long inhale.

Nosing about, he whispers, "Are you doing this on purpose?"

You know what he means. He never failed to mention what this set did to him, to his brain, his length. And you'd made it a point to use it against him every chance you got.

Today however, was not that chance, but you're grateful for the fateful coincidence.

He gets up only to slowly peel off your leggings and partially hovers over you, knee between your legs again, this time much closer to the warmth of your core.

His eyes trail down your figure, taking in all the curves, the crevices. Remembering all that once was his, learning all that he wasn't there to witness during your time apart.

His hands gently move up and down your sides, caressing and massaging, eyes going back and forth between the two lace pieces.

They're the same pair, but your body has changed quite a bit since he last had you in it.

You've somehow managed to surpass your own beauty and it's nothing if not a detriment to his sanity.

And his stamina. He's suddenly not too proud of it, if the exponential build up of his arousal is any indication.

The heavy caresses have now pushed you down the bed, your heat coming in contact with the rough patch of denim on his knee. You gasp at the contact, your core tender from how drenched you are from all his staring and fondling.

He picks up on it and uses his hold on your hips to begin grinding you on his knee. You groan, your thin silky lace and his thick rough denim adding to your arousal. Never would you have imagined that simple gliding, over the confines of clothes no less, could feel this good.

This is what being with Hyunjin is always like. Trying, experimenting, tapping into uncharted territory, with the knowledge of safely, of assurance, of security.

Sleeping with him, you got to know of your own body, what made it tick, your likes, your turn ons.

Being with him, you got to know of yourself, what made you you, your talents, your strengths.

Existing with him, simply made you whole.

So if this is all you get, you'd be content.

Moans and whimpers echo in the room that's now empty without his studio table nestled in the corner, without his clothes piled up in random heaps, without music equipment thrown astrew on the wooden floor.

Empty. Empty. Empty. Without him.

"Goddess."

A loud moan rips from your throat, the sound unholy. Your eyes snap open, in shock of your own reaction.

"You like that?"

Staring up at him with wide eyes, you're not sure what to say. It's yet another uncharted territory, yet another epiphany. And you're grateful it's with him.

Leaning forward he captures your lips between his soft ones, tongued clashing, spit mixing, swaying his head side to side, smearing your collective essence all over your cheeks and jaws.

"Like it, my goddess?"

Another equally loud moan echoes, even as his grinding has ceased. Your response is unprompted, no physical stimulation in sight.

While it might have been embarrassing, you're anything but.

Simply because it's him.

And you're not yourself. And he's not himself.

But you're together. All else rendered trivial.

Feedback and reblogs are very highly appreciated. They're what keep the community alive and help content creators stay motivated.

[Send an ask if you wish to be added to the permanent taglist.♡]

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calumfmu · 7 months ago

Note

could u maybe write an angst fic where steve leaves reader for nancy? based on traitor by olivia rodrigo. maybe she writes him a letter/song?

Yess baby of course. Here it is. Thank you for your long continued patience and for the others—I promise I’m getting to them.

2.4k; cw: cheating (but not really), swearing, angst, Steve’s a dick—and not in a cute way.

You had to admit to yourself that you knew it was always weird. How fast Steve had gone from pining over Nancy and always thinking about her to suddenly being interested in you. You thought it was a dream come true at first, something that he had finally came to his senses about. It had been years you had liked Steve, pining over him during high school, always pressed to the background, but always there.

Getting to know him was the easiest part of it all, learning the way that his body fit into you, like two pieces of the same puzzle. He was always sweet, so kind to you, called you beautiful even when you felt like it was your worst days. You loved Steve Harrington. Loved everything about him because you knew how deep his love could truly go. There was one thing though.

Your head sat against his chest, ear pressed to his sternum while he laid underneath you, half propped up on the couch. Your eyes were dropped low as he ran his fingers through your hair, trailing them along the hair at the nape of your neck, dancing over the skin. The hug you two found yourself in was lazy, but comfortable, a tangle of limbs that had it hard to decipher where one body ended and the other began.

“Don’t fall asleep on me now,” he whispered, laughing softly as you hummed at him. His calm heart beat was felt through his sweater, lulling you further into slumber.

“Shut up!”

Robin’s voice was heard from the kitchen—loud and brash—like it always was. The two of you heard the click of the receiver as she threw it down, her stomps announcing her arrival into the room.

“Hey Robin, when are you going to stop running my phone bill up?” Steve questioned, shrugging at her with a faux frown as she was wide eyed, hand on her stomach. You laughed at his words, knowing just how much he would rather have her in his house, running up any bill than anywhere else in the world.

“Oh quiet, you know you don’t even pay a single bill on this house,” she muttered, waving a hand to brush off his words.

You rubbed your head against his chest, turning slightly to look at her standing in front of you guys. Steve awaited her next words, eyebrows raised as she took a deep breath.

“You guys are never going to believe this,” she was grimacing her words, mouth exposing her teeth in an awkward fashion. She made a pause, pressing her hands in front of her in the air.

Steve raised a hand from your hair, urging her on before placing it on your back. “Well… spit it out.”

She rolled her eyes, “Jonathan and Nancy broke up. Like officially. Broke up, broke up.”

You waited for the next line, waited for some jaw dropping moment. Not having to wait long, your eyes crinkled in confusion, feeling Steve’s heartbeat beneath his chest kicking up a notch. He shifted below you, your head falling from its resting place as he sat up, suddenly.

“Wh-what do you mean?” His voice was concerned, slightly shaky as you sat up, rubbing your eye from where it had caught on his sweater in his hasty movement. Your side eye was lethal, boring into him as he was staring deeply into Robin’s eyes.

“I know! Isn’t that crazy?” She exclaimed, eyes wide as she waved her arms around.

You felt like the odd one out, chewing your bottom lip as she two of them discussed the separation. Clearing your throat, you closed in on yourself, clasping your hands at your waist.

“Can I ask—“ the two of them looked at you, cut off mid-speech. “Who’s Nancy?”

Robin’s eyes widened as she straightened up, mouth clamping shut as she briefly glanced at Steve. He was silent, staring down at his hands.

“Steve, you didn’t—“ she shook her head, briefly shutting her eyes. “She’s, uhh, how do I-? She’s Steve’s ex, well—friends now, but ex.”

You nodded, glancing over at him as he found interest in the couch, picking at a loose thread. It dawned on you that you were only aware of one person from his past, that girl he was with in high school, the reason why his reputation turned sour. The most you heard of her was from other people around town, brief memories of her from high school, everything but from Steve himself.

“Wait, Wheeler? Junior year Wheeler?” You questioned, confusion crossing your features. Steve cleared his throat, a loud cough that filled the awkward silence in the air.

“Yeah, that doesn’t matter now,” he said, ignoring the pointed look Robin gave the two of you, choosing to walk out of the room. “She’s just a friend now.”

You couldn’t help, but linger you gaze on him, doubting his words even as he leaned in to press a kiss to your forehead. There was a weird sting in your chest, a feeling that felt like a forewarning.

Your reflection stared back at you, a hollow ghost of a shell as you applied your moisturizer, smearing the cool gel across your cheeks. It was weird, seeing yourself like this. Stuck inside of a memory of a person, you didn’t even recognize yourself anymore.

It was late—three in the morning, the comedown of another argument you had with Steve, over something stupid he had done or said earlier, you couldn’t remember it at this point. Maybe it was something you had done or said at this point, possibly joking about him hanging out with his ‘other girlfriends’, something that used to make him laugh, but now had him on the defense.

As you finished up your night routine, his footsteps came down the hall, slowly creeping open to door with the push of his socked foot. His head peaked around the corner, his brown eyes widening as they caught sight of you.

“I thought you were gonna be in bed,” he said, making his way over to your bed. His shirt was off, exposing mole dotted skin, hair on his abdomen, trailing down into the waistline of his pants.

Three months ago and you would’ve jumped him in that moment, exhaustion the only thing on your mind lately.

“Couldn’t sleep.” Your voice was curt, short responses residual from the argument. Glancing at him in the mirror, you could see his eye roll.

He turned over, back to you as he flicked off the bedside light. It left you in darkness, your own eyes rolling in response as you had no choice but to go to bed next to him, awkwardly shuffling under the sheets.

He breathed deeply, body rising and falling with his breath, tucked away in his corner. You stared at his back in the darkness, sadness over your features as you adjusted to the dim room, only lit by the moon shining through parted blinds.

“Steve?”

Your voice was small as you said his name, waiting a few moments before he turned around to face you. You could see the reflection of the moonlight in his eyes, slightly glowing as he traced your face.

“What’s wrong, babe?”

Your heart ticked, the first time he had called you that in months. It was the bare minimum, the sheer uttering of the word reminding you of why you fell for him.

“What were you doing?” He was confused, brown crinkling asked he reached over to run a hand down the length of your side. His fingertips got caught at the hem of your night gown, slowly pushing the material up so it exposed more of your thigh.

“What are you talking about?” His fingertips ran circles on your skin, goosebumps prickling up underneath the touch.

“After we argued,” you said, breaking eye contact as you suddenly became nervous. “You disappeared. You always do around this time, when you think I’m asleep.”

His hand left your thigh, it drew into him like there was a strong magnet, like something had burned him. You could hear him thinking, gears turning as he thought of a lie to tell you.

He settled on the truth.

“I was, uh, just talking to Nancy,” he said, indifferent in his tone. You nodded, biting the inside of your lip.

“Nancy?”

He nodded, your eyes seeing it out of your peripheral as you were still not looking at him. Steve didn’t know what to say, choosing to wait for you before he dug himself in a hole.

“About what?”

“Just, uhm, things, I don’t know,” he ran a hand through his hair, turning so he laid on his back. Staring up at the ceiling, he tilted his head to the side, taking a deep breath before closing his eyes. “We’re friends, so…”

A wetness stung at the corners of your eyes as you closed them, wiping away a stubborn tear that fell down your face. “Yeah… friends.”

It had been two weeks since your breakup with Steve, 15 days to be exact. Two weeks of crying, shoving your face with anything you could see, watching shitty romance movies with Robin, and trying to distract yourself with anything you could—wine and Dirty Dancing were your latest endeavors.

Robin sat opposite of you, handing you a tissue as you began to sob at the film, Patrick Swayze having a close up. She side eyed you, biting back the smirk that sat on her lips.

“Babe, it’s not even a sad part,” she muttered, shaking her head as you tossed your head back on the couch, lips finding your drink, wrapped around a crazy straw found in your kitchen that led the drink into your mouth.

“It’s so sad because perfect men do exist,” you whined through sobs, squeezing your eyes shut. “And I just lost mine.”

Robin sighed, placing the tissue box aside as she leaned into you. Her hands wrapped around your waist as much as she could, her head pushed into your stomach.

“It’s okay, Steve’s a dummy anyways,” she said, you knew she was lying. He was still her best friend, even though she chose to comfort you during this breakup. It had been your decision anyways, deciding to take a break when things got too tough between you guys.

“Isn’t he?” You sighed, wiping your face as she straightened up, removing herself from you. You ran a hand over your forehead, feeling heat come off of your skin. “He’s going to so regret this.”

Robin gave a toothy grin, pride covering her face as you seemed to come to your senses. “There she is.”

You sat up from the couch, legs wobbling as the alcohol began to settle in. Your hands found your hips, triumph high in your shoulders. “He’s regretting this. I was the best damn thing to happen to him.”

“Damn straight,” your friend agreed, taking a sip from your wine.

“He’s going to realize that he needs me,” you said, stomping to emphasize your point. “Maybe he’s realized that now, it’s been a while you know.”

Her face fell as you continued speaking, her lips forming around silent words. “Okay, well maybe—“

“Maybe he’s giving me space,” you tapped a finger against your face, thinking. “I should call him!”

Robin’s jaw dropped, her brow furrowing the most it possibly could as she stood up off the couch. You were quick, running to the phone before she could stop you, your fingers dialing that memorized number. It rang as she stood across from you, eyes wide as she shook her head, mouthing the words ‘No, no, no,’ over and over.

You figured it was because you were a little too drunk for this, you were bound to say something you were going to regret.

“Harrington home!”

It wasn’t Steve. That high pitched voice that answered the phone. It wasn’t his mom or anyone who should be at the home at this hour. It was her. Nancy. The girl who had plagued your relationship despite never being apart of it, despite being friends with your boyfriend—your ex.

You didn’t realize the phone had clattered to the floor, you stumbling back to the living room or sinking to your knees in front of the coffee table, your elbows resting to cradle your head in between your hands. You didn’t notice Robin kneeling beside you, calling your name as she rubbed small circles at the small of your back.

“Babe,” she whispered, pulling you out of your trance with the nickname she called you.

You looked at her, watching as she came to focus, the room finally not spinning. It wasn’t even the alcohol that had you in this state, it was the reality you had been longing to desperately ignore hitting you in the face.

“Is he—“

You couldn’t get the words out, a wave of nausea hitting you as you thought of it. You thought of Steve and Nancy, them starting—or finishing?—the memories that you once had.

She nodded, avoiding eye contact as a sob escaped you. Your chest hurt, feeling hollow and empty as she confirmed your worst fear. Robin fully wrapped you into your arms, pulling you into her chest as your cries filled the room.

Her arms were warm, felt like somewhat of a home, but nothing like the oasis that Steve had been.

“It’s been two weeks,” you muttered, shaking your head as she rubbed your back, her fingertips ghosting along the skin. The old sweater you wore bunched up underneath her touch.

“I know,” her lips pressed to the top of your hair, comforting you as you experienced the worst heartbreak of your life. You weren’t used to this side of her, but forever grateful for who she had become.

“How long have they been together?”

She was silent for a moment, sucking her tongue against her teeth as she thought of what to tell you.

“I-I don’t think you want to know.”

That was all it took for you to fully break inside. The fact that Steve was everything you had believed he wasn’t. The gentleman imagine you had of him was gone, his desperation and love for Nancy never going away, despite the years you spent together as a couple. It took the sound of her breakup with Jonathan to get him to fold, to get him to start fighting so you had no excuse to end things.

He was terrible. He had betrayed you in everywhere possible.

You hated Steve Harrington. Hated everything about him because you didn’t know a single thing about him.

Masterlist. Inbox and requests are open! <3

a/n: I hate mean steve with no pay off. He’s a jerk here, but it was an amazing request that was sent in. Once again babe, Ty for your patience. I hope this sufficed.

#my writing #Steve Harrington x you #Steve Harrington x reader #angst #requests #ughhh #this pained me to write #but im ngl #this is my headcanon bc I can actually see Steve doing this for Nancy #he loves that girl

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smooth-perceval · 1 year ago

Text

“My love, my life”

“If I had someone like you”

Max Verstappen x Fem!Reader

PART FOUR

Max Corner

Summary: [Max and reader crossed the line in their 3 year friendship, resulting in 2 positive pregnancy test. And 1 baby on the way.]

Max makes amends for his wrong ways, reader forgives him, Max’s declares some very crazy things- however reader has something crazier that he doesn’t take too kindly.

Warnings: swearing, angst, fluff, soft max, angry max, fake relationship, mentions of J.Verstappen, Google translate, NO PROOF READ!! , maybe reader being a dick?

Key: Y/N (Your name) Y/N/N (Your Nickname)

Word count: 4,137

Inspo: It hurts me- Elvis Presley (Song)

A/N: So a month later and we have this, please enjoy! I need to get me a Max. I’m sorry it’s terrible I just had such readers block- and yeah there’s no excuse for it being bad.

Well of course Max and Kelly was the talk of the weekend. Some pleased they was back together, others not so much… myself included- mine was out of pure jealousy.

I avoided Max like the plague, hid in the most random spots to avoid any contact with him-

The second most spoke about during the weekend was me and Lando, people pining us together. I love Lando dearly, and he loves me- but strictly platonic, even the thought of anything more makes me cringe.

Every so often he would bring the conversation up of moving back to London. And I would just brush it under the carpet, I wouldn’t lie and say I haven’t look at the odd apartments near home, or even considered moving back in with mum and dad, it just seems kind of the best thing for me and the baby- I have nobody at home expect Lando, and used to be Max…

“Y/N?” Glancing up like a deer in headlights I turned my head to Lando confused-

“Sorry, did you say something…” with and apologetic smile, I nervously picked at the pleats in my dress, looking back down at my lap.

“I said we’re about ten minutes away from your mum and dads”

“Oh- I can’t wait to see them.” Sighing I rested my head back in a bliss.

“Me neither it’s been a while-” laughing a little Lando turned a corner onto a familiar street. My childhood home standing bright and proud.

“Is it weird I’m nervous to see them again…”

“Of course not.”

Humming, Lando pulled up at the side of the road. And as if both thinking the same thing we glanced around at the many cars parked around nearby.

“Well if they’re throwing you a surprise welcome home party. It’s not much of a surprise.” In unison we both glanced at each other breaking out into a fit of giggles.

“Let’s go act surprised” rolling my eyes playfully we both got out the car creeping up the drive and knocking the door.

And within seconds it swung open revealing my mum, dad rushing down the hall in a hurry.

“There’s our little girl!” Smiling wide, I stepped indoors embracing them both tight.

“I have missed you both so much.” And just like that relief washes all over me, the calmness your parents can bring is a different kind. And I cannot wait to be able to give the same to my baby.

“And Lando! It’s been a minute!” Turning in their arms, reaching out and dragging him in.

“Your daughter has kept me miles away.” Another round of laughter rang out.

“Not the fact you’ve been playing cars all around the world kid” patting his back my dad swung his car over his shoulders dragging down the hall and out into the garden.

Mum turned around back to me smiling wide. “How’s the baby?” Her hands come up clutching my stomach.

“Oh well- they’re fine, a few more weeks and we should know the gender!” My face hurt from smiling so much. “Is dad okay?”

“Yes, honey- you know what his like he won’t tell you how excited he is.” Nodding my head as she waved it off.

“Come your dad got the barbecue out!”

“This is his way of showing his love? Cause he knows I love a barbecue-”Stepping out onto the patio, a loud cheer erupted, glancing up I laughed covering my face, and praying I looked surprised- I mean it still was a surprise the amount of family and friends here.

“Welcome home darling!” One at a time each family and friend greeted me some still doing their rounds on Lando.

Mum was right the barbecue was going, dad and my two uncles standing around it chatting, all three nursing a beer.

Truthfully I was in a bliss. I felt at ease- like once again the world was lifted off my shoulders- I could breathe without a care in the world.

That’s when it was decided for me… moving back home would benefit us. I had family here. The baby’s family is here- Max has no say in the baby’s choice all the time his playing stupid hot and cold- who have I really got back in Monaco? Just Lando now- just him and that’s the scary party, because even at times there’s no Lando.

“Y/N/N!!” Turning around to my mothers call, she gestured me over, excusing myself through the crowd I took her hand as she pulled me the last length.

“I think this is the first time his ever been late.”

“Who?” Looking up at the back door, on the patio, there he stood as always. Making the most grandest of entrances. Always, always showing up unexpectedly- And once again popping that little balloon of happiness.

“Why is he here?” All the colour drained from my face, replaced with a bright red- rage fuelling within me- with a hint of sadness and embarrassment.

“He is your friend right? Or do we class him family how long you’ve known each other- I know you see him more often than us lot but still.”

Creeping down the steps my dad was quick to greet him along with other family members, Lando giving him a curt nod of acknowledgment, then turning his head to me in shock. Mouthing a quick “you ok?”

“Max, how are you honey?” Pulling him into an embrace, his eyes landed on mine.

“I’m okay, how have you been?” Rubbing her shoulders they both pulled away from on another.

Taking him in- he looked rough, his eyes were dull, complimented with nice bags underneath clearly from a lack of sleep, he still tried and made himself look presentable his hair styled back, though a loose strand fell out onto his forehead- yet he wore it well. His smile didn’t really quite reach his eyes like he was holding back or had no energy to do so- and yet despite seeming so frazzled he looked so good. And I hate that.

“I’m good! I’m going to be a grandmother! As you know-” giggling happily turning back towards me, her hand reaching up to my arm in a comforting way.

“I know- I’m very excited!” Smiling shyly he rubbed his forearm, taking a quick glance at me again.

“I’m thinking it’s going to be a girl.” She started rubbing my belly once again, my eyes were only focused on Max, I couldn’t get any words out. “You know what I’m like Max, some say I’m a witch for how correct I am with these things!”

“Either way, longs their healthy right”

“Either way, I think you and Lando would force them into racing!” Nudging his arm Max laughed a little.

“Well they’ve got Verstappen blood, I doubt we would have to force them that much.”

My eyes grew wide as I stared at Max, before looking at my mum. Then back at Max. Then back to mum.

“Verstappen blood?” Confused my mum glanced between us both, all three of us looking at one another in turns.

“Why your bl-” pausing- her finger pointed at us both, her eyes growing wider by the second, a gasp falling from her.

“Your the fath-”

“Shhhhh!” Cutting her off, I waved my hands infront of her.

“You haven’t told your parents…?” Mumbling quietly max lowered his head slightly.

“Have you told yours?” Now back glaring at Max. He slowly nodded his head.

“That’s what I’ve been needing to talk to you about.” Sheepishly he looked down at the small gift bag in his hands. Taking a deep breath, trying to calm myself I turned back to my mother holding her hands.

“Mum please- don’t tell anyone okay. Not until I’m ready…”

“What about your father?”

“I’ll tell him later. I promise…” Pausing I looked back at Max. “You.” Jabbing my finger into his chest. “Indoors now.” Picking my dress up slightly I hurried indoors trying not to draw so much attention, or give off that I’m absolutely raging inside-

Once in the kitchen, I looked back at max standing over the other side of the table who was wearing a small genuine smile.

“That wasn’t funny at all Max. So wipe that smile off your face”

“Just happy to see you again…” he placed the gift bag onto the table.

“Cut the crap. And just talk.”

Raising his hands in defence he pulled a chair out for me to sit before sitting down himself.

“How have you been?”

I think if looks could kill, Max would’ve been killed roughly 33 times.

“How have I been?”

“You know, in general… the pregnancy- how’s the baby been?” The tension grew as his sentences become frantic and rushed.

Kinda cute him being nervou- No Y/N his not cute. His a dick.

Clearing his throat he put his hands up once again in surrender.

“I’ve wanted to talk to you since, well after we was at yours…” raising his eyebrows, trying to hint at the last night we shared. Staring at him for a few moments, I then slid into the chair he pulled out, finally accepting the conversation. Truthfully a part of me just wanted to be in his presence, is it bad of me for enjoying being the centre of his attention… maybe.

“Then why didn’t you?” Crossing my arms over my chest I leant back into the chair.

“Well- so as I said, I told my parents… my mum was-” my heart skipped a beat or two, praying that the response was all good- kinda hoping they was excited it’ll make this whole thing easier- “There’s no words I think she cried for about an hour, she like jumped on me!” Chuckling a little at the memory a smile still playing on his lips. “My dad however… not so much.” And just like that the smile was gone, and my heart dropped- one out of two.

“He said a baby out of wedlock wasn’t something he wanted of me, told me to keep it a secret… kinda filled my head with crap and made me believe I shouldn’t do this… or I couldn’t do this like, be a dad- and that’s where Kelly comes into this.”

I hated her name rolling of his tongue, I would’ve rather had a drop of poison. The jealousy churned my stomach.

“It’s fake- all of it with us… I mean I know it’s fake, I think she is getting a little to comfortable.” Fiddling with his hand infront of him he looked up at me.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner… my dad had told me I needed to cut contact with you… that it’ll be easier- that way, just like move on and I kinda believed him- I thought I wasn’t good enough to be a dad, yet being around my nephews- makes me want a baby even more, and that’s when I realised the mistake I made… if you don’t forgive me I understand, I wouldn’t either. But I really hope you can find it in your heart somewhere to… or even just let me be apart of our baby’s life- I want to be a dad, so fucking much, I feel like it’s meant for me” truthfully he tugged at my heart strings, maybe it’s the hormones… but could I really forgive him that easy? Life’s been hell-

“Why didn’t you just call?…”

“Someone blocked you and I couldn’t figure out how to undo the block!!” Frustrated he pulled his phone out. And as angry as I once was- nothing could beat the smile slowly forming at his stupidity. Who doesn’t know how to unblock someone?!

“Please show me how it’s been driving me insane- I even searched up online but I couldn’t figure it out!” sliding his phone across the table. I looked up at him taking in his face once again... and just like always he was again forgiven.

“You swear you want this Max?” Biting my lips I picked at my dress once again, praying he says the words I want to hear.

Looking up from his phone, scrambling his hands over the table he quickly reached over holding onto my hand with both of his.

“More than anything in the world. I promise” his eyes spoke of pure genuine.

“This is the last time I forgive you. I swear on this Max- the last time” Squeezing his hand I stood up from the table making my way back to the garden.

“Y/N? The gift-” Max was following behind holding the bag out. Glancing down at it then back up at him I took it gingerly.

Pulling out a wrapped box from inside the bag, a small ribbon tied around in both pink and blue. Max took the bag placing it onto the table before taking the box from my hands holding it for me to pull the lid off.

Inside was a beautiful crystal set, of three bears- engrave on them was my name on one, max name on another and the baby bear still empty.

“Once we have a name I can go get it engraved on there-”

“Thank you Max.” Gulping, I felt my cheeks warm- how can something like three little bears make me well up so quickly. Closing the box back up I took it from his hands hugging it close to my chest. “It’s beautiful- thank you.”

“I think your beautiful…” his hand reached up brushing a strand of hair out my face…

“I’m sorry for everything.”

“We will see-” stepping back from his touch squeezing the box a little tighter.

“Also get Lando to look at your phone, I’m sure you both need a catch-up.” Smiling a little, reaching out and rubbing his arm gently, he nodded in response.

“I’ll prove myself- honest.” Stepping around me he headed out into garden, possibly going to find Lando.

Placing the box on the table I took a few deep breaths. One parent happy another not- my mum just found out who the dad is, my father doesn’t have a clue… Max is back, and his not technically single-

And me- I want to scream, I so wanted ti hate Max, but how can I? I don’t think I ever can hate him that’s the truth.

“Darling, you okay?” Turning around there my mum stood in the doorway smiling softly. And that was all that was needed for me to let the tears go.

“No-” I felt my lip start to tremble as she rushed in shutting the door behind her.

“Oh honey, sit down-” smiling sadly I took a seat once again, my mum pulling a chair around and in front of me.

“Talk to me-”

Taking a few deep breaths, I straightened my back, “where do I start-” we both giggled leaning into each other.

“You and Max? That’s a start-”

“Well if you mean what happened, we was both drunk mum, it really was a mistake- that happened twice” looking around awkwardly avoiding her wide eyes, “Max has been a bit difficult, his been a bit of a no show- and then after the second night we spent together- he completely cut me out, and seeing him today has been the first time in a while and well… as you know I didn’t want to see him.” Pausing I looked back at mum, “but I’m glad you did now because I found out the truth- his dads not happy were having a baby out of marriage. His mums happy- but his dad has basically forced a relationship onto him and told him to basically leave me and this baby- and Max believed it at first and he is saying now he realises that he wants to be a dad.” Huffing out a breath, I smiled finally wiping my face.

“And ontop of it all- I don’t know what to do- but I got this thing to figure out and it’s either for the better or, it’s failed, you know…”

“Well, that’s a lot to take in…” smiling she brushed my hair out my face, just like Max done not longer than five minutes ago. “Well, I’m pleased to know who the dad is, I’m glad it’s someone like Max even though his been acting silly… he is a sweet boy. And he deserves this family you are both creating.” Squeezing my hand reassuringly she continued. “But make it his last chance-”

“Mum- I don’t know if the other problem is going to ruin that whole family dynamic.”

“Honey, your a family for a reason, families are there for each other no matter what.” Standing up she rubbed my shoulders.

“Did you want to talk about your other problem?”

“No no, I think we have sort of covered it…” waving her off I stood up also.

“We better head out honey, hopefully everyone will start leaving-”

Smiling at each other, we linked arms heading back out into the garden.

And as if summoned Max was at my side, staying true to his word of proving himself.

“I got you a drink.” Holding the glass out to me, i accepted it smiling a little. “Thank you-”

My mum leant through and gave Max a tight hug whispering in his ear- whatever she said made him smile, a cute shy smile-

“Thank you.” Pulling back from each other, mum excusing herself.

“Did you want any food?” Both looking over at the barbecue, my stomach churned.

“No I feel like being sick…” laughing a little I sipped at my drink trying to hold down any sickness.

“Need me to get you anything?-” wide eyes he rubbed my shoulder gently. “Max, relax- your making me feel even more sick with all the questions.” Smiling a little, I moved past him going to sit down.

And within seconds him and Lando was both sitting down either side of me.

“So when you telling your dad?”

“What?” Looking over at Lando then over to Max.

“Well Max said your parents didn’t know and now your mum knows so when you telling your dad.

“Later.” Looking over at my dad I sighed, waving my hand infront of my face.

“You okay?” Max asked once again.

“I’m fine- just a little hot.” Max started waving his hand also in front of me.

“Why don’t we go indoors?”

“I’m fine.” Drinking my drink once again it was now Lando’s turn to pipe in.

“If you feel hot maybe we should sit in the shade?”

“I need 5 minutes.” Standing up I rushed off away from them both. And straight to my dad.

“You want some food darling?” My dad smiled at me hand resting on my arm.

There was bare to none food left, everyone had got there quickly. And just as quickly I shook my head.

“Dad can everyone go now-” swallowing I looked around at everyone- I don’t know when but at some point it got too much. The heat, the sickness, the problem. All of it.

“Err, sure honey.” His head darted around as he found a spot to put his beer down, and one by one, people started migrating out, giving me waves from a distance and a smile.

I was grateful, my dad really served- I felt guilty ending the day short but I just wanted a moments peace… and once everyone was gone and everywhere was cleaned up.

Well I say everyone gone- Max and Lando both defused leaving, sitting back down on the outside furniture and engaging in more conversation.

With them distracted I went down into the garden a little more, sitting at the little table and chair there. Under a tree with a lovely breeze blowing through and calming me. I was at peace.

My hand subconsciously rested onto my stomach, and the thought of knowing my baby was there, calmed me even more.

“Hey…” awaking me I glanced over my should at Max.

“Hi-”

“Can I sit?” Nodding over the chair, I nodded along clearing my throat.

“Sorry about kicking everyone out early.”

“Why you apologising?” Tutting and shaking his head, he sat down across the small rounded table.

“Just feel bad…”

“Don’t even begin to feel bad-”

“I already do-” laughing a little I leant towards the table, or more towards Max… the table definitely the table.

“How you feeling now?”

“A lot better…” pausing I looked down at my hands, fiddling with them.

“I need to speak to you about something…” looking back up at Max, his eyes were already on me as he nodded.

“I need to tell you something too-” smiling a little, I nodded my head.

“Okay well I’ll start-“

“Y/N I love you, not just as a friend or best friend- I think I genuinely love you.” I watched as he swallowed hard, my heart pounded, begging to be released and handed to him to look after.

“I’m moving back here-” I don’t know why- I could’ve said I love you back or, thank you- but no I chose to potentially ruin any moment we was about to have, his face hadn’t changed- I had no idea if he even heard me- he was like frozen in place.

“Max?”

“So let me get this straight. I tell you I love you- And your telling me you’re going to move across country, take my baby with you, and be hours away from me? When I’m trying to make emends for the things I’ve done.”

Nodding my head slowly, I chewed at my bottom lip.

“Right- so.” He paused turning away looking across the garden.

“Are you doing this out of spite of what I’ve done?”

“What? You seriously think it’s like that-”

“It’s how it seems.”

“No Max it’s not. Your never in Monaco, who is to say you’ll get 5 minutes when I go into labour or when the baby is here? My family are here at least I’ll have someone while your gone- do you understand that.”

Getting up from my chair I moved to stand in front of him, catching his attention.

“I have people here always… your never around. And you don’t realise how terrified I am to do this Max… I’m basically doing this alone and I’m so scared.” Once again the tears built up, rolling down my cheeks.

“I’m scared, what if I don’t know how to be a mum? And our baby won’t exactly have a dad around permanently- his in different countries all year round never home- what if this baby doesn’t feel loved enough Max? I’m so scared that this baby won’t realise how much it’s loved by us- it’s okay saying it but they need to be shown it-” letting out a sigh of relief, looking down at him I quickly wiped my face.

“So don’t judge me for helping our baby.” Max’s hands were covering his mouth, rubbing his face slowly, seeming like his staring past me. “I just feel like, every time I get close I’m really falling backwards…”

“Exactly how I’ve been feeling with you-” sniffling I wiped my face once again, Max finally sat up straight looking up at me.

“Let me help- atleast…” Max hands reached up taking mine and slowly pulling me closer, and like the sheep I was I followed along, now standing between his legs.

“I got it all covered…” lying through my teeth, Max already knowing- shaking his head. His hands slid to my hips, guiding me to perch onto his leg.

“Just let me take care of you-” it was like being in a trace, the way I just followed whatever Max done. “I’m okay…” it was like another comfort blanket, I curled up on top of Max, his arms around me securely, I knew he was still annoyed the heavy breathing gave it away. “Please stop fighting me… I want to try and accept this some way-”

“Okay…” sighing I closed my eyes, now finally accepting peace.

“I love you too max… always have.” Pausing once again, I leaned back looking up at him, “But you aren’t mine to have exactly…”

“Don’t- go there, I need to get my whole situation sorted, I just wish like-”

“Like what?”

“If I had someone like you- life would be a lot easier.”

“In a prefect world” laughing a little I rested my head back onto his chest. “I’m sorry”

“What did I tell you about apologising?”

“Not to do it…”

“Then don’t. It makes sense you being here, our baby ne-”

“Your baby?” Sitting up I turned around Max head basically snapped as he looked over.

And there stood dad.

“Well, I beat you to telling your parents.” Max mumbled guiding me off his lap, both standing in front of dad who stood there with two teas in hand. And a face like pure thunder…

A/N: Okay, sooooo Max is forgiven once again!!! How we feeling about the reader back in the UK? Orrrrr do we have a moment we’re the reader if about to leave and Max changes her mind? Keeps her in Monaco? Hmmm, anyways I hope you enjoyed a sorry it’s been so long!

Masterlist

#f1 imagine #formula one imagine #max verstappen imagine #imagine #max verstappen x reader #max verstappen x y/n #max verstappen x you #max verstappen

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ineffableeraszine · 6 months ago

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Ineffable Eras, Volume 4: Before the Beginning, baby! Save The Date!

June 24th, physical and digital zines are coming your way—plus a whole host of merch. It's our biggest volume yet! That's right: this bad boy can fit so much beauty, suffering, pining, angst, wonder, and hope. SO MUCH HOPE.

IEZ4 features art, comics, and fic set during Creation, the War in Heaven, the Fall and its Aftermath, and the Garden of Eden.

So set your reminders, as it will only be available for preorder for a limited time. Don't miss out!

We'll have more news and info for you in the coming weeks.

Happy Pride, Good Omens fandom! See you on the 24th!

#good omens #ineffable eras #good omens zine #ineffable husbands #crowley #aziraphale #before the beginning #angel crowley #david tennant #good omens 2 #pride #pride month

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604to647 · 11 months ago

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Safest with You (Ch. 8 - The Cab)

5K / Modern AU Retired Mob Enforcer!Din Djarin x fem!Reader

Summary: Unable to be apart from you, Din decides to be more honest.

Warnings: Angst and pining again, but the return of fluff at the end, some insecure!Din, pet names as usual (pretty bird, baby, sweetheart, etc.)

A/N: Just so you don’t think my imagination is that cheesy, the waiter with the folded napkin actually happened to me (The Woman was Too Stunned to Speak)😂 Thank you for your patience as I posted some other pieces before this one and as always for reading! Hope everyone is having a good 2024 so far!

Series Masterlist

Your friends are more than a little surprised to see you show up teary eyed at brunch the next day; like you, they had expected your third date with Din would end with earth shattering orgasms, not a heart shattering goodbye.

You cry while you tell them about the date and how it ended. They’re as confused as you have been about what happened; you mumble, “He just said it wasn’t a good fit,” hanging your head.

Rory, predictably, goes straight to revenge, “Do we hate him? Should we key his car?”

Lifting your head because you know she’s only 37% kidding, you say softly, “No. He was kind about it. And he’s allowed, you know? He’s allowed to call it quits after three dates. We really only knew each other for two weeks.”

You cross your arms on the table and lay your head down. You're a jumble of raw emotions right now: confusion over the sudden change in Din's feelings, distress over having possibly done something to precipitate that change, but mainly sadness over the loss of what could have been. You realize now that you had harboured high hopes for what a potential future with Din might be like, and those hopes had been the source of some most welcomed feelings of excitement and optimism over the past few weeks - to have them dashed, so unexpectedly too, has left you crushed and at a bit of a loss. Had you done something wrong? You think you must have, and that thought has you biting back tears of disappointment in yourself.

Lala strokes your hair as you sniffle quietly, “…I didn’t even get to fuck him.” You bury your face in your arms with a whine. It feels a little better to make jokes.

“Aw babe, I’m so sorry. We all know how much you wanted to fuck him. We wanted you to fuck him too,” Bea sympathetically rubs your back.

“You know… it’s probably good you didn’t sleep with him, babe. Like, it would have been really shitty for him to sleep with you and then break up with you after,” Katie muses out loud.

Propping yourself up on your chin, you lament, “He wouldn’t have done that. He’s too sweet.”

“Is now a good time to mention that Mark is still single?”

“JEN!!!!”, the other girls yell. But you laugh, a small laugh but it’s genuine.

“What?! I asked if it was a good time? Sheesh!! Plus it made her laugh, okay?”

You lay your head back down on your arms, and listen to your friends chatter. They know you well enough to know that you don’t want to keep talking about it, and that you’ll feel the most comfort from just being in their supportive presence.

Lala and Bea make sure to periodically let you know they’re there with a gentle rub of your back or arm until the food arrives, and when you dig into your eggs you feel slightly better.

Just over a month passes before you see Din again.

During that same time, Din sees you twice: once intentionally and a second by accident.

The first time is the day after your last date. He goes to the restaurant where he knows you and your friends have your standing brunch date, hoping you would seek the comfort of your friends after an upsetting night. He doesn’t go in, but does peer in through the window to look for you; even though your back is to him, he can tell it’s you and moreover, he can tell you’re crying. Din feels as if his heart has been ripped out of his chest, remembering your hurt and confused face from the night before. As he watches you lay your head on the table and your friend stroke your hair lovingly, he fights the urge to burst into the restaurant and beg you to take him back. He’s desperate to tell you it was all a mistake and that he can’t bear to be apart from you, but the voice in his head that wouldn’t quiet yesterday night is still there, telling him you’re better off without him and far away from what his world entails. When he sees your food arrive, and that you’re in better enough spirits to eat, he leaves feeling assured that your friends will take good care of you, and, although it depresses him to think this, certain that soon he will be but a distant memory for you.

The second time Din sees you is three weeks later when he’s out for a run and he passes a park that seems to be hosting a big dog meet up. Din quickly realizes that all the dogs are the same breed as Al and he stops to scan the crowd looking for you, but Al spot him first. Tail wagging, Al separates from the group and jogs over to the edge of the park where Din is standing – excited and full of energy; Din leans over the fence and pets the exuberant pup, “Hey buddy! Miss you so much. You being a good boy?” He scratches Al all over his head and neck, making sure to give him a few extra ear rubs that Din knows he likes. Din’s missed Al and is pleasantly surprised to see him, but his heart leaps at the realization that you must be nearby. He spots you finally, talking with some dog people, and when he sees your lips say, Where’s Al? he gives a final pat to the dog, knowing that it won’t be long before you’re coming over. Although Din tells Al to go back to you, the normally obedient dog is not budging, he stays with his tail wagging and now barking at Din excitedly. Out of options, Din moves behind a nearby tree so not to be spotted when you inevitably notice where all the racket is coming from. As he predicted, you come over to fetch Al, “What are you doing over here by yourself, silly boy? Were there some squirrels? Are you yelling at the squirrels?” you coo at the dog, who’s bouncing up and down, still barking. You give Al a bunch of kisses, then lean over and whisper in his ear; happily, Al waits to trot by your side back to the group of other dogs while you give the area a quick look to see if you can ascertain what drew your dog over here in the first place. And that’s when Din finally looks upon your face. The picture of you and Al from the farmer’s market on his phone that Din’s been starting at over the past few weeks is nothing compared to the real thing. Your smile is as warm and inviting as ever, and your eyes bright and full of glee; he knew he wasn’t over you, but he didn’t realize his heart could further break until the thought strikes him that you would never again look at him with an expression like that. He waits until you’ve rejoined the group in the park before reluctantly resuming his jog and leaving you and Al behind once again.

“I’m stuffed,” you moan, holding your stomach. Your friends are all doing some variation of the same gesture and nod in agreement having just finished a delicious birthday dinner for Katie at her favourite Italian restaurant. Great food, even better drinks, and loving company – it was the perfect birthday celebration. It’s a shame you’re all too full for cake or dessert.

“Can we postpone birthday dessert to brunch?” groans Katie.

That sounds like a fantastic idea, you can’t eat any more tonight, “You’re the birthday girl! We can do anything you want," you grin.

“Maybe what she wants for her birthday is for you to go back in and get that waiter’s number? Didn’t you think the waiter was cute?” Jen says, purposefully avoiding Katie’s look of incredulousness.

He had been cute. And he had folded a napkin into a rose and placed it next to your plate when he served you. Then when you had joked that you weren’t the birthday girl, he had come back and with folded roses for all the girls. Yes, it was super cheesy, but sweet. And maybe, just maybe, you might have been tempted to give him a chance if it wasn’t for a certain curly haired, brown eyed boxer that you knew could be a hundred times sweeter, who you knew you would be comparing him to in every other way as well. Even now, more than a month after you last saw Din, you didn’t think there was any actual competition. You must have a far away look in your eyes, because Bea wraps her arms around you and looks at Jen, “What about Mark? What would Mark say if he knew you were cheating on him with some waiter?” This snaps you back to the present with a giggle. The girls all laugh and you give each other prolonged goodbye hugs and cheek kisses, before you leave them to catch a cab in the opposite direction. Shouting love yous and promises to each message when you get home safe, you turn and head down the street and around the corner.

The neighbourhood you’re in is lively at this time of night, lined with busy restaurants and cafes that are finishing up last service, and a few clubs that are just getting their night started. With all the activity and bright lights, you don’t have any qualms about be out by yourself, but you are finding yourself a bit cold so you hope to catch a cab sooner rather than later. The dress you wore for dinner has long sleeves but is backless, which had been sufficiently warm earlier in the evening, but now that there’s a bite to the air, you’re starting to shiver a little. You decide to wait on the curb right outside a club that seems fairly busy already, reasoning it’s probably a high traffic area or at least it will be easy to grab a taxi after it drops off clubgoers.

You miscalculated. Not a lot of cabs are going down this street tonight for some reason, and the two that you do spot with their lights on either don’t see you or are claimed by other people first. You’re starting to get cold for real, hugging yourself and rubbing your arm with the hand that isn’t raised in the air.

“Allow me,” says a deep voice from behind you. You turn to find Din standing close, with his arm already out to hail the next free cab that comes down the street.

“Thank you,” you say quietly. You’re not sure where he came from, and are very surprised he’s there at all. It’s been weeks since you’ve seen him, but here he is handsome as ever. He’s dressed in a sharp dark suit, his matching dress shirt neatly buttoned, but no tie – he looks so good. His broad shoulders are stretching his suit jacket in all the right places, and the suit sleeves hug his muscular arms perfectly snug. This time when you shiver, you know it’s more than the crisp night air that’s giving you the chills. Din looks down at you over the rim of his black framed glasses with a soft expression, and without a word, takes off his jacket and drapes it over your shoulders; his free hand then slips under the front of the jacket and around your waist, settling on your lower back where your backless dress allows him to touch your cool, bare skin. He murmurs, “It’s cold out,” before gently pulling you in towards him. You’re close enough to smell him now – the scent of his cologne alone makes you press your thighs together a little; you place you hands gently on his hard chest before lightly trailing your fingers down and wrapping your arms around him. Feeling the hand on your back press you closer, you rest your cheek against his chest and close your eyes. The two of you stand like this, comfortably holding each other in silence for a few minutes before a taxi pulls up.

Din reluctantly pulls away from you to open the back door of the cab; after helping you in, he opens the front passenger door to speak to the driver directly. He gives the driver your address, and then to your shock, pulls out his wallet and you see him take out several hundred-dollar bills and hand them to the driver, “Sir, it’s very important to me that this lady gets home safe, and I know I can count on you. For your help, please keep anything over the meter as a tip, a thank you from me.”

The driver is similarly surprised, but takes in Din’s imposing figure and gives him a confident nod, “No problem, sir. Consider it done.”

Din makes a point to look at the driver certificate, “Thank you, Carl,” patting the driver on the shoulder before closing the door. He comes around the still open back seat door and crouches so you’re making eye contact with him from your seat. “Thank you, Din. You didn’t need to do that,” you say softly, but with a look of gratitude so he know you’re truly touched. Din reaches in the cab to tuck a loose piece of hair behind your ear, “Need to know you’re safe,” he says tenderly, letting his hand cradle your cheek.

He pauses for a moment, almost unsure, then asks, “Were you out here on a date?”

You don't know if there is any other intended meaning behind the question, but you give a little chuckle, “No, I was out for Katie’s birthday dinner; we went to Luigi’s. Everyone else shared a cab over the bridge and I walked over here to catch a cab uptown.” You’re not sure, but you think you see a flicker of relief flash across Din’s face. “What about you? You here to do some clubbing? This music seems really your style,” you tease.

Din laughs when at that exact moment, the door of the club opens and the loud cacophony of electronic beats spills out into the street. You smile wide at Din and he’s elated; his hand still on your face, he softly strokes your cheek with his thumb as you smile at one another. He’s about to answer with a quip of his own, when a loud voice from near the club doors calls his name, “Din!! Are you coming in or what?”

Din stills his hand and turns his head to give the person a nod. You move your head and peer around Din to see who he’s speaking to; you catch a brief glimpse of Vanessa, dressed up to the nines for the club, spinning around on her 4-inch heels and stomping back into the club.

Oh. You fold your hands in your lap and look down, fiddling with your fingers. You’re starting to feel a bit stupid for imagining that there might still be a spark between you and Din. It seems that you might not be out on a date, but of course he could be.

Din knows exactly what you’re thinking and is quick to correct you, “We’re not here together - I’m doing a security escort tonight. Just making sure my old boss’ niece and her friends get in to the club safely; Vanessa's just part of the group.”

“You don’t owe me any explanations,” you shrug, defeated.

Din tips your face up gently, and says sadly, “What if I want to owe you an explanation?”

You bring both of your hands to his face and search his eyes, afraid you might be misunderstanding his words. “Din,” you whisper. And then his lips meet yours. It’s as if he never stopped kissing you – his kiss is so warm and familiar, you hadn’t fully realized until this moment the extent of how much you missed it. And him.

You’re both slow to break apart, looking deeply into the other’s eyes with longing. Din speaks first, “Pretty bird, I’ve missed you so much. I never should have walked away; I’ve thought of you every day since.”

You look at him softly, “I’ve missed you too.”

“I’m so sorry for leaving. I can’t tell you how much I’ve regretted hurting you. I’m so sorry, baby,” Din pleads with something close to desperation in his eyes.

You pull him in by his collar and kiss him again, this time more intensely than before, your desire and neediness bubbling to the surface. As you thread your fingers through Din’s curls, he leans further into the cab, bracing one hand on the car seat and the other grabbing your upper thigh where the hem of your dress ends. Where his hand touches your bare skin, you feel a warmth radiate and you gasp softly into Din’s mouth. He takes this as permission to deepen your kisses, opening his mouth, his tongue begging to be let in. Allowing him access, you moan softly a he licks into you. Fuck. You had forgotten what a good kisser he was. You pull away gently, still not sure what any of this means, and open your eyes to see Din looking at you like he used to, with adoration and hunger. You have a million questions, and out of habit, you look over to the driver to ask if he minds giving you some more time before starting the fare. Unsurprisingly, Carl seems totally unbothered and committed to not paying attention to what’s happening in the backseat; the generous tip from Din having secured his patience and discretion. Din is reading your thoughts: you deserve answers and all the time needed for those answers; he cups your face with his hands to redirect your attention back to him, “I should get back to work now, pretty bird. But we’ll talk, okay?” He hopes you can read the assurance he’s trying to convey with his eyes. Nodding, you start to take off his jacket, but Din stops you, pulling it back over your shoulders, “Keep it, sweetheart. It’s cold.”

“I’ll get it back to you,” you promise. Soon, I hope, your eyes plead.

Din understands the unspoken request, “I know you will.” He presses his lips to yours softly one last time as a promise of his own, “Let me know when you make it home safe, baby.”

Gently closing your door, Din knocks twice on the roof of the car to indicate to the driver that it’s time to depart. You look out the window, and softly hold Din’s gaze as the cab drives away.

---

After you get home, you walk Al, check in with the group chat to make sure everyone made it home, then change out of your dinner clothes. Washing off your make up, you send Din a quick text: 5 stars cab ride. Thank you for making sure I get home safe. You never deleted Din’s contact or the text conversation, and now as you scroll up through your old messages, you’re reminded of how easy and flirty your banter used to be. You still don’t know what happened the night of Jimmy’s fight to change how Din felt about you and until you find out, despite tonight’s kisses and confessions, you can’t be sure that he feels the way you do, and this thought has your heart sinking a little.

After distractedly finishing a few odd tasks around the apartment and unsuccessfully picking up your book a few times, you decide to go to bed when your phone dings.

Pretty bird, are you still up? Has Al gone for his walk yet?

Al’s gone out already!

Do you think…he wants to go out again?

Your phone rings before you can respond; it’s Din, and you can’t help but smile when you answer, “Hello? Din?”

“Hey pretty bird, do you think Al might be up for a second walk tonight?”

You look at your dog peacefully snoozing next to you on the couch, unawares, “Probably! Are you off work soon?”

“I’m downstairs right now, if that’s okay.”

You feel your heartbeat quicken. You ask for 5 minutes and use it to pull on some sweats and swap out your underwear for a sexy black lace set, the same set you had worn for Din the last time you had seen him. Picking this particular set wasn’t intentional, but putting lingerie on to match your mood is; you don’t know what you’re expecting, but your desire for this man didn’t diminish during your time apart and you can’t help the warmth of want that’s been building in you since you saw him a few hours ago.

As you and Al walk through the front doors, your first thought is of how familiar and comfortable this feels; a late night dog walk together that you’ve looked forward to many times. Your second thought is of just how goddamn hot Din is. His hair, longer than you remembered, had been slicked back a little for work, but now it’s a mussed up and looks soft and touchable again. You favourite pair of his glasses are comfortably perched on his distinct nose, one of your favourite features of his handsome profile. His facial hair is a little scragglier than a month ago, but you like it – it makes his greys more distinct, the sight of which is making you a little weak in the knees. You internally scold yourself to get it together so you don’t throw yourself at him when you get close enough. Din’s smile for you is wide and genuine but with a hint of shyness. However, for Al, Din’s squatting down, arms out wide, welcoming Al’s slobbery kisses and excited pawing.

“Ok, Al, calm down,” you tell the dog, even though you yourself feel anything but calm. You hand Din his jacket, which you brought down with you, “Guess you really wanted your jacket back, eh?”

Din takes it from you and puts it on in a smooth motion, “Thank you. I do really want this jacket back. I really missed this jacket. It’s the best and most perfect jacket. I’m lost without this jacket.”

You chuckle and pull him in by the lapels of said jacket for a kiss. Slow and sweet, you press your lips to Din’s and breath in his scent as his arm wraps around your waist and pulls you in gently. The two of you stay like this, reveling in each other’s touch for a few minutes before moving apart, as if you both know things can’t progress further until you address what’s unsaid between you. You walk hand in hand for about half a block in silence before you’re the one brave enough to broach the topic.

“Din,” you look at him with unsure eyes, “what happened? I thought everything was going so well. Did something happen the night of Jimmy’s fight? Did I do something wrong? Did… your friends not like me?”

“Oh, pretty bird, god no,” Din stops walking, so he can face you. He’s devastated that you might have thought this whole time that you were somehow at fault for his mistakes, although he should have known that your instinct would be to try and take accountability for when things went wrong. He looks at your anxious face and hope he is showing the proper amount of sincerity with his expression and voice, “You didn’t do anything wrong, baby. You could never. You were sweet, and perfect, and funny, and smart, and everyone loved you. I promise. I… it was…you were so lovely – you are so lovely… and all I could see.. I- shit…”

You lead Din by the hand to a sidewalk bench so he can collect his thoughts. When you’re both seated, Din sighs and takes a deep breath before he starts again, “I need to tell you something about me, pretty bird.” He’s nervous, his deepest insecurity about his relationship with you about to be spoken out loud, “I’m… not a good guy.” He shakes his head a little when he sees you’re about to protest, and presses on, “You know how I worked in personal security? It wasn’t just body guarding work or escorting people’s nieces to clubs… I… hurt people. And sometimes when I do that work again, I have to hurt people still.”

Your face is neutral as you take in Din’s words, but you don’t recoil from him or look like you want to run away, so he continues.

“The people that I worked for, that Paz and the rest of the guys… the Mandos, still work for… it’s really one person. A family really. The Fett family… I don’t know if you’ve ever heard anything… or read about them in the paper? Well…”

You shake your head a little; you haven’t but you think you know what Din is alluding to, and you’re getting a more complete picture of what Din meant when he said he came from a different “world”. You can tell he has so much more to say, to explain, so you stay silent.

“…I’ve known them all my life. All the Mandos have. Boba, he’s the head of the family, he was like a second dad to me growing up, and one of my dad’s best friends. I’ve known him and the family a long time… they’re not bad people, I swear, pretty bird. But… they’re involved in some not so savoury businesses… the type of business that make protection and security… essential. Which is where the Mandos come in… and where I came in. Some of the people involved in these kinds of businesses… unsavoury is probably too kind of a word to describe them. And those were the kind of people that were there at the fight that night. They were all around and… baby, you were so lovely and perfect, and you had no idea the type of filth you were surrounded by. I thought, how could I pull you down to that level? Get you dirty like that? Like, literally, you got bloodied.” Din hangs his head.

“I felt so guilty dragging you into that world… so, I let you go. You’re too good and sweet to be around people like that. People like… me.” Din can’t even look at you as he finishes.

To say you’re surprised by this confession is an understatement. Never in a million years would you have guessed that Din walking away had been for your (perceived) benefit; you’re also not sure how to go about correcting him of some of the falsities that he’s convinced himself of, namely that you’re somehow too good to be in his world, but you think you have to address the most egregious one first. Bringing the hand that Din isn’t cradling in his up to his face, you gently stroke his jaw with your thumb so he will meet your eye; you want, no need, him to hear you,

“How can you say you’re not a good guy, Din? You’re the kindest guy, the most considerate guy. The things you’ve done? First, I want you to know, anything you tell me about that type of work or your family. I will never tell anyone, okay? Please know you can trust me. Second, I don’t need to know any details and I am positive that anything you’ve done, you did out of necessity and never out of cruelty. Do you know how I know that without knowing any of the particulars? Because you are a good man. You can harness so much strength and power, and yet, you choose to be so, so gentle; you approach everyone and everything with care – it’s evident in the way you treat me, Al, your friends and the way you speak of your dad, the community, the guys at the gym, even the Fett family. You take care of people. That’s who you are.” You ask again, “How can you say you’re not a good guy?” Tilting your head at Din, you search his eyes, willing him to understand how you feel, “I don’t know what you thought I would think of you, but nothing will change my mind – you’re selfless, loyal… a protector.”

Din looks into your eyes and finds the sincerity and kindness that he’s been missing from his life for the past month; how could you be so loving and kind to him after he had hurt you, made you cry? The way you looked that night crying, was not one he would easily forget. He vows to never make you cry like that again if he can help it; every other concern he had about bringing his world into your life has evaporated in this moment with your tender words. He should have known you would be pragmatic, thoughtful and open-minded. He should have trusted you to have been able to handle the truth; he feels like he owes you another apology. Instead, he simply whispers thank you, before descending on you and kissing you fervently, urged by the want and urgency that has accumulated from having been away from you for so long.

This feels so right. It feels perfect to have Din’s hands on you again. To have his mouth on yours, his tongue trailing over your tongue, his teeth lightly nipping your bottom lip. But you can’t assume he’s thinking or hoping for the same thing you are, not after last time. You pull away gently, and look at Din with an expression he can’t quite read, something between pleading and uncertainty, “Din… is this for tonight only? It’s okay if it is, I just don’t want to assume I know what you want.”

Din tips your face to his so that there can be no possibility for misunderstanding, “Oh, pretty bird. It can be, if that’s what you want. But if you’ll give me a second chance, I’m yours. I’m yours even if you don’t, if I’m being honest.”

That’s all you need to hear, and you launch yourself at Din, slamming into his body, practically laying across his lap as you attach your lips to his. Kissing him over and over, unable to keep from smiling, you moan slightly when Din’s hands wander down to your backside, giving both cheeks a hard squeeze and not letting go, using his grip to pull you up into him. He’s grinning now too, deepening his kisses, unable to keep his happiness from spilling over into your mouth.

Climbing off of him, and slightly breathless as you stand, you reach your hand out to Din, “Do you want to come up?” Din places his hand in yours and gets up; towering over you, he looks down at your beaming face and can’t help but smile back, “I really, really do, pretty bird.”

#din djarin #din djarin fic #din djarin fanfiction #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal characters fanfiction #din djarin x reader #din djarin x f!reader #din djarin x you #no y/n #modern au #modern!din djarin

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wangxianficfinder · 9 months ago

Text

In the mood for...

March 12th

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1. hi! for the next itmf could i please get lxc being called out on his bs? i was obsessed with “weep no more, sad fountains” but i still wanted to see him actually having to come to terms with that fact that he put his trust on jgy above his trust on his brother and was complicit on all of it. thanks!!

break by justdoityoufucker (T, 3k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, LXC Critical, JC Critical, Canonical Character Death, Guānyīn Temple Scene, BAMF WN, Protective WN)

Ghosts Shouldn’t by ShanaStoryteller (Not Rated, 15k, WangXian, Grief/Mourning, Canon Divergence, Angst with a Happy Ending) also contains many "FU"s against Lan Xichen but more for how the Lan Clan treated Lan Wangji when he protected Wei Ying & took in Yuan.

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2. Hi! For ITMF, can you please recommend wangxian fics where other people (could be other canon characters, OCs or outsider pov) find out about wangxian’s marriage and are jealous of how lan wangji is the most devoted, doting husband or even just surprised/ awed with their relationship!

Thank you always for your efforts and time 🫶

Life before you was tragic by covalentbonds (Not rated, 4k, wangxian, Fluff and Humor) The part that’s relevant to the ask is in the second chapter

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3. Hi again. ITMF two sets of fics a) where wwx and lwj end up taking care of yuan er after they find him on the door step, a family member leaves him in their care etc b) wwx and lwj having loads of kids adoption or birth wise maybe even a few of the children finding them and just kind of latching on and it's kid fics, the longer the better @thatperson0-0

3A)

The Simplest Way Forward by harriet_vane (E, 70k, WangXian, Modern AU, Accidental Baby Acquisition,Kid Fic, explicit in much much later chapters, green card marriage (but not really), pining for your own husband, endless pining, Slow Burn, Happy Ending, Nothing else bad or traumatic happens to the baby, [Podfic of] The Simplest Way Forward by knight_tracer) maybe? WY & LZ aren't together when Yuan shows up but get together days later.

🔒💖 so take my hand (take my whole life too) by cicer (E, 92k, wangxian, Modern, Accidental Baby Acquisition, oh my god they were roommates, Idiots in Love, Mutual Pining, Implied/Referenced Drug Addiction, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, this fic is not about trauma, it's about the yearning, slowburn, some characters have a pretty strong bias against folks with drug addiction, (this does not reflect the author's opinion of people with addiction disorders!), none of the really grim abuse/drug use affects our main characters, and it takes place offscreen) should be a good fit

3B)

🔒💖 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)

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

🔒and having a marvelous time by varnes (E, 108k, WangXian, Yúnmèng Siblings, Sound of Music AU, (i know!!! i know. stay with me on this.), Slow Burn, Mutual Pining, Family Feels, spies to lovers???, Protective Siblings, Sometimes You Just Want Your Dads To Admit They're Your Dads, Angst with a Happy Ending, podfic of and having a marvellous time by varnes by Spinifex) this story has WWX adopting a bunch of kids (or maybe them adopting him), but LWJ loves then as soon as he meets them do hopefully this will work for the request.

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4. Hiiii thank you for all your hard work!!!!

For the next itmf do you have any

A. Child abuse / neglect wwx where lwj realize something is wrong like in the shadow of moonlit flowers by Reverie(cl410) or works that mention the fact that wwx is not giving his all in exams / is being disruptive on purpose (maybe he corrects lwj on something super complicated) and after he stops his grades gets so much better…

B. Anything where wwx safeword out of a nonsexual situation? Like a meeting with the Jiangs or something triggering??

Anyway thank you so much for everything ✨✨✨✨✨✨ @ihaveasoftspotfora-yuan

4A)

Just Say Yes series by edenwolfie (M, 338k, wangxian, canon divergence, matchmaking, pining, cloud recesses study arc, getting together, fluff, humor, hurt/comfort, everyone lives au) Wei Ying misbehaves because he's not challenged enough

🔒 Warming up (to him) by barisan (T, 9k, LQR & WWX, WangXian, Hypothermia, Cloud Recesses Study Arc, Temporary Character Death, Medical Inaccuracies, YZY Abuses WWX, JFM Bashing, pre-wangxian, Good Uncle LQR, Angst with a Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort)

Company by WithBroomBefore (T, 29k, wangxian, canon divergence, not YZY friendly, pre-relationship, getting together, fix-it, hurt/comfort, light angst w/ happy ending)

🔒💙 Holding shreds by barisan (T, 5k, WangXian, Cloud Recesses Study Arc, No Sunshot Campaign, Body Swap, Not for sexy shenanigans, Chronic Pain, Hurt WWX, Hurt LWJ, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Abusive YZY, Bad Parent YZY, Bad Parent JFM, Good Uncle LQR, Hurt/Comfort, Medical Inaccuracies, POV WWX, Angst with a Happy Ending, Jiāng Family Bashing, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Getting Together, Smart WWX)

please don't let me be misunderstood by sysrae (T, 3k, WangXian, Modern AU, College/University, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, getting hit by cars, Past Child Abuse, Friends to Lovers, Abusive YZY, Caring LWJ, Injured wwx)

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5. ur favorite darkji fics? thanksss

A Matter of Time series by mrcformoso (E, 84k, wangxian, time travel fix-it, graphic depictions of violence, underage, LWJ pov, JC pov, dark LWJ, manipulation, grooming, teen body adult mind for LWJ, happy ending for wangxian, problematic consensual underage sex, blood & violence, insane LWJ, manic LWJ)

💖 Ominous by 3neetee (T, 5k, wangxian, pre-relationship, established relationship, character death, fae & fairies, changelings, dark LWJ, dark WWX, BAMF WWX, graphic description, suicide, implied/referenced domestic violence)

Like stones on an unseen board by Vir_Abelasan (Not rated, 11k, wangxian, Canon Divergence, Dark LWJ, Older LWJ, Teacher LWJ, dark twin jades, Age Difference, Manipulation, Protective LWJ, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Corporal Punishment, Relatively canon-typical abusive Jiangs, WWX Get a Happy Ending, WangXian Get a Happy Ending, Not JC Friendly, Not Jiang Clan Friendly)

💖 I just wanted to see you so bad by Blackberreh, ThatOnePlatypus (T, 1k, wangxian, canon divergence, dark LWJ, minor character death, blood)

💖 Somewhere Sits an Empty Throne by Siamesa (E, 19k, WangXian, Crossovers & Fandom Fusions, tgcf fusion, Gods & Goddesses, Ghosts, Romance, vengeance, Dark LWJ, Grief/Mourning, Explicit Sexual Content, Angst with a Happy Ending)

💖 Do you want to hear by allollipoppins, dameauxgentianes (T, 12k, wangxian, time travel fix-it, canon divergence, not everyone dies au, epistolary, Madam Lan lives, minor character death, dark LWJ, Lan WWX, bad parents JFM & YZY, good uncle LQR, no sunshot campaign)

💖 demons run when a good man goes to war by Miranda_Aurelia (T, 20k, wangxian, LWJ & NHS, JYL/JZX, canon divergence, angst w happy ending, NHS & LWJ friendship, not JGY friendly, dark LWJ, revenge, (presumed) major character death, not LXC friendly)

💖 Like the sea loves the shore by Say (E, 15k, wangxian, LQY & WWX, implied/referenced WWX/WC, F/F, rule 63, dark LWJ, protective LWJ, sirens, childhood friends to lovers, fluff, angst w/ happy ending, eventual smut, human WWX, siren LWJ, age difference, non-human genitalia, minor character death)

💖 Buried in the Sky, Hallowed by thy Depths by themunchking (T, 9k, wangxian, supernatural elements, sirens, dark wangxian, canon-typical violence)

💖 The Way You Tremble by themunchking (E, 6k, wangxian, murder husbands, vampires, blood, violence, supernatural elements)

At heart by apathyinreverie (M, 8k, wangxian, WIP, Dark LWJ(Ish), Amnesia, WWX gets to be Not Okay after the BM, Hurt WWX, Recovery, Caring, Protective LWJ, Possessive LWJ, some definite manipulation, but not everything is as it seems, not nearly as dark as the tags make it sound, Canon Divergence, Golden Core Reveal, Golden Core Transfer Fix-It, Domestic WangXian, Fluff, WWX Goes to Gusu, WWX happily atticwifing away, Sunshot Campaign, BAMF WWX, BAMF LWJ)

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6. Hi!!

It's been a while since I asked here, but I can't help but to come back for MXTX stories jahaha

I Was wondering, for the next "I'm in the mood fof", may I ask for fics where WWX is good friends with HC from TGCF? I need their bromanceeeeee

Tysm!! @nia-rarita

🧡 The Red Ribbon by Xiao_Hua (M, 21k, WangXian, HuaLian, Canon Divergence, Ghost City, a bit of beefleaf, Immortality, Cultivation Partners, Juniors, XL and HC find a child who happens to be WWX, Fluffy wangxian, WWX is a Supreme Ghost King, First Time, TGCF)

🔒Can we skip to the Good Part? by pink-lotus-pods (kkomaism) (T, 107k, HuaLian, WangXian, Canon-Typical Violence, Crossover, YLLZ WWX, HuaLian are in Love , Married HuaLian, Slow Build, Canon Temporary Character Death, Ghost WWX, Fix-It of Sorts, Canon Divergence, Blood and Violence, Character Study, Panic Attacks, WWX Has a Mental Breakdown, It Gets Worse Before It Gets Better, unbearable amounts of sexual tension, Suicidal Thoughts, mild but it's still there!, Additional Warnings In Author's Note, Genius WWX)

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7. Hiiii for the next itmf do you know any alpha to omega wwx ??? Like Juste A Taste by anxiousTypist or any omega wwx and alpha lwj being “roommates”

Thank you for your work !!!!! 🤍🩵❤️🖤

Blissful Ignorance and All Its Benefits by DrPanda99 (E, 20k, wangxian, WIP, A/B/O, Non-Traditional A/B/O Dynamics, Oblivious WWX, Alpha WWX, Alpha LWJ, Bitching, Self-bitching?, Masturbation, Size Difference, of the penis variety, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Knotting Dildos, Large Cock, Small Penis, Size Kink, Accidental Voyeurism, Size Queen WWX, LWJ & WWX Have a Breeding Kink, PWP, Compulsory Heterosexuality, Humor)

Two Alphas, One Ship by fenaly (E, 6k, wangxian, Graphic Depictions of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, A/B/O, Bitching, Rape/Non-con Elements, Non-consensual sex, Non-Consensual Bitching, Aliens, Non-Human Genitalia, Blood and Gore, Murder Husbands, Feminizing genitalia terms, Among Us AU, Sci-Fi, Explicit Smut, Tentacles, Shapeshifting, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Monsterfucking, Violence, Alpha/Alpha becomes Alpha/Omega, Breeding Kink, Wank and Tell)

🔒 Unpreventable Happened by 3neetee (G, 15k, wangxian, Modern, A/B/O, Alpha LWJ, Alpha WWX, but not for long, Bitching, Roommates, baby acquisition, fostering, Pre-Relationship, Mutual Pining, WWX is irresponsible with himself, Domestic Fluff, Kid Fic)

Changing by Dixielis (T, 2k, wangxian, A/B/O, Alpha LWJ, Alpha WWX, Omega WWX, Bitching, Mpreg, POV Outsider, Hurt/Comfort, Good Uncle LQR, Modern)

Mutual Nurture by NinaCarow (E, 9k, wangxian, Mentions of Character Death, mentions of abuse, Mentions of Rape, no rape occures tho, A/B/O, Non-Traditional A/B/O Dynamics, Omega WWX, Alpha LWJ, Past Alpha WWX, Biting, Bonding, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Knotting, WWX Has a New Golden Core, its just sex and cuteness, mostly)

what home feels like by callmeb6104 (E, 7k, wangxian, Canon Divergence, A/B/O, Alpha LWJ, Alpha WWX, Omega WWX, changing of (secondary) gender, Whump, WWX Whump, Cloud Recesses Study Arc, No Sunshot Campaign, Aged-Up Character(s), Domestic Violence, Bad Parent YZY, Anal Play, Anal Fingering, Ass to Mouth, Multiple Orgasms, sex tears, Hand Jobs, First Time Blow Jobs, First Time, Nipple Licking, Nipple Play, Body Worship)

I care for you by Lanwangjisnights (M, 27k, wangxian, WIP, Modern with Magic, Magical Pregnancy, Unplanned Pregnancy, Alpha LWJ, Omega WWX, Alpha WWX, Fox WWX, Knotting, Nesting, Dual Cultivation, Mpreg, Non-Traditional A/B/O Dynamics)

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8. Hey!!

I hope youre doing well <33 i wanted to read something similar to how to fall in love with a catfish - a guide by wwx in terms of humour. Im fine with whatever premise/canon/non canon/au etc etc i just want to read something witty-ish funny like how that was.

Thank you in advance!!!!

Inter-Sect Politics for the Absolute Beginner by Elpie (Horribibble) (M, 3k, wangxian, Canon Divergence, Brothels, BAMF WWX, Chaotic WWX, Humor, JGS Being an Asshole, Justice, JGY & WWX Friendship)

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9. Is there a fic where wwx becomes pregnant through artifical insemination. He doesn't know it's lwj and neither does lwj. They end up getting close and falling in love and later lwj learns he's also the bio dad?

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10. hii :D im in the mood for some magical girl/hero AU fics, preferably wangxian but i dont mind other ships or a lack of thereof. what i mean by "magical girl AU" is a modern setting in which cultivators are more or less vigilantes/heroes who can transform using their powers. hellinglaozu on tumblr has an AU similar to the genre im looking for btw, if you'd want a more concrete idea as to what i'm looking for you could refer to it (it's called seventeen romance). thank you!! ^^ @harapecowee

Wei Wuxian Makes a Wish series by natcat5 (M, 119k, wangxian, major character death, underage, madoka magica au, modern w/ magic, time travel, high school au, body horror, self-harm, angst w/ bittersweet ending, time loop, mental instability, suicidal thoughts) absolutely phenomenal madoka magica wangxian au

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11. Hey! I’m in the mood for fics similar to Impossible Remains on AO3, aka wangxian fics where WWX dies after the golden core transplant or just earlier than canon! thank u so much to all the mods and the lovely work u guys do! 🥰🫶

Blood of the Black Earth by wirevix (M, 48k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Xuánwǔ of Slaughter Cave, Sunshot Campaign, Sad with a Happy Ending, Ghost WWX, Monster WWX, Canonical Character Death, Although not at the canonical time, Grief/Mourning, Good Sibling JC, Horror)

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12. thanks for ur hard work! any pregnant wwx fic recs?

Accidents Will Happen by vesna (mrsronweasley) (E, 45k WangXian, Post Canon, Mpreg, Fluff, Light angst)

🧡 Brilliant Mistake by brooklinegirl (E, 53k, WangXian, Modern AU, Sex Pollen, Mpreg, dubcon, Modern Cultivators, Dubious Medical Science)

All I Want by Selenay (E, 47k, wangxian, Modern, Mpreg, Post Holiday Romance, Consequences, Reunions, Idiots in Love, wangxian attempt to be sensible adults about it, they are very bad at it, Teacher WWX, Handwavey Biology)

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)

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13. Hello! I need your help in suggestions. Can you suggest me a Wangxian fanfiction where Wei Ying hurts Lan Zhan for jiangs or others and latter reunited with him. I have read various Lwj hurting Wei Ying fanfiction but not Wei Ying hurting Lan Zhan @abz18699-blog

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14. hii, this is for itmf!

fics where they struggle w remembering things, not like memory loss, maybe where they disassociate. forgetting things which r not so nice and then starting to forget small random details?

thank you!!!!

to the river of rivers by haysel (T, 26k, WangXian, Character Study, Post-Canon, Mutual Pining, Dissociation, Getting Together, Misunderstandings, Trauma, Angst with a Happy Ending, tw for dissociation, sort of sickfic, Hurt/Comfort)

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15. I'm assuming that this is where I ask about ITMF recs? If it is, do you have any fics focusing on like, the past characters reacting specifically to Nie Huaisang's 10 year revenge plan, or to how differently Nie Huasang acts after everything? Or at least any fics where the past characters react to the future (whether it be through watching the show, or going to the future, meeting future selves, etc.) that has some amount of focus on Nie Huaisang along with everything else? Thank you!

💖 The Path by Seastar98 (Not rated, 279k, wangxian, JC/WQ, JYL/JZX, fix-it of sorts, CQL verse, golden core reveal, angst w/ happy ending, BAMF NHS)

Nie HuaiSang's Diaries - When Spirits Drift in Time by IlnaHers (T, 37k, wangxian, WIP, Heavy Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Reveal, Time Travel? only the diaries though, Characters Watching the Show, Serious WWX, Hurt WWX, Hurt JC, Hurt LWJ, Protective LWJ, Protective JC, Protective WWX, Hurt NHS, Protective NHS, Character Death Reveal, Progressive Reveal, Melancholy, Twin Prides of Yúnmèng Feels, Twin Prides of Yúnmèng Angst, Twin Jades of Lán Feels, Sad, Shock, Mentioned Junior Quartet)

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16. Hewwo!!!!! For the next ITMF could i pretty pls get recs for Wen remnants/burial mounds era???? Bonus points if there’s the Wens and/or Yilling people loving their patriarch and extra bonus points if there’s the sects realizing they’re wrong and leaving them alone but not necessarily requirements, i just want Wei Wuxian and his found family being happy making a dire place their home!

🔒 the thread may stretch or tangle but it will never break by RoseThorne (E, 91k, WIP, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Soulmates, Self-Esteem Issues, Fix-It, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Nightmares, PTSD, Handfasting, Panic Attacks, Getting Together, First Time, Aftercare, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Implied/Referenced Torture, Scars, Chronic Pain, Golden Core Reveal, First Time, Switching, sex-related injury, LWJ Stays at the Burial Mounds, LSZ is a Wèi, Good Sibling JC, Dissociation, Burial Mounds Settlement Days)

Until It's Dark by suzvoy (M, 120k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, LWJ Finds Out, Pining, Fluff and Angst, First Kiss, First Time, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Hair-pulling in chapter 23) also has Lan Wangji in the Burial Mounds but has a great depiction of the Wens and how the sects could have responded better

💖 Return to Sender by Thesaurus_with_no_words (M, 72k, WIP, WangXian, Canon Divergence, BAMF WWX, Golden Core Transfer Fix-It, Temporary Amnesia, Slow burn)

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17. Anyone wanna rec me some light-hearted time travel fics? I like the serious ones fine but it's hard to find ones that are funny.

Thanks in advance! o7

🔒 ripples spread out when a single pebble is dropped into water by RoseThorne (G, 1k, wangxian, JYL/JZX, JYL & WWX, JC & WWX, WWX & WQ, LQR & LWJ, LQR & WWX, Time Travel Fix-It, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Past Character Death, Future Character Death, Timey-Wimey, Truth, Honesty, Guilt, Crack and Angst, POV Third Person, POV WWX, Cloud Recesses Study Arc) kinda

Wrong Turn, Right Place by diamondbruise (E, 71k, WangXian, Time Travel, kind of, it’s more reality travel but there’s modern wwx and cultivator lwj, Mutual Pining, Angst with a Happy Ending, Jealousy, Idiots in Love, Slow Burn, Misunderstandings, Cultural Differences)

rerun from the outside by Eicas (T, 2k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Time travel, Crack, Cloud Recesses Study Arc, JC POV)

River Stones by littlesystems (M, 18k, WangXian, Time Travel, Post-Canon, Cloud Recesses Study arc, Junior Quartet, Oblivious WWX, Suffering LWJ, Voyeurism)

Wangxian's Time-Travelling Shenanigans Series by pupeez4eva (Varies, 18k, WangXian, Time Travel, Humor, POV Outsider, Love confessions, PDA, Everyone Lives/Nobody dies) most of their wangxian fics explore lighthearted time travel fix it

🔒An Arrow Through Time by syrus_jones (M, 166k, WIP, WangXian, Crack Treated Seriously, Time Travel, Reverse time travel, into the future, Potentially a Fix-it-fic?, Time Travel Fix-It, Mistaken Identity, POV LWJ, Angst, Gay Panic, Falling In Love, Fluff and Humor, Hurt/Comfort, Canon Divergence, Post-Canon, Canon Compliant, Young LWJ, Older WWX, Internally Screaming LWJ) though it is not been updated since long

💖 vinegar jug by dandelion_san (G, 7k, WIP, WangXian, Time Travel, Humor, Awkward Crushes, Jealousy)

Look forward, the future looks back by SerlinaBlack (T, 1k, WangXian, Time Travel, Fluff and Humor, Attempt at Humor, Dialogue Heavy, Crack Treated Seriously, Madam yu's a+ parenting mentioned, Oblivious WWX, jealous LWJ, WWX in WWX's body)

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

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

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