#what to do when the only thing i really want to do (read a specific fanfic) is triggering. help.

[moons-and-runes]

Writing Goals for 2025!

💖 My main goal for the year is to finish writing at least one entire fic (but hopefully I’ll complete multiple)

🛳️ I have a oneshot idea for Benverly which isn’t really a new ship for me but I’ve never written for them before. I think I’d also like to write some Marylene stuff :)

🤔 Following on from the last Q, Ben, Bev, Mary and Marlene are characters I’ve not written before

🥸 Yes, I have a friend who I share most of my ideas with who also has some fic ideas in the works 👀

🥵…We’ll see. And if I do there’s no guarantee I would even post it lol

👻 Technically any genre is a new genre for me as I’ve never finished writing a whole story

🦄 I have a dual POV wip at the moment of Sirius and Regulus Black :)))

🐌 To finish a oneshot (3k - 10k words)

🦖 No I’m really only interested in writing IT and HP fics

🍄 None that I can think of atm but that might change as I read and watch more perhaps I’ll join a new fandom this year

🌈 Oh I’ve already done a ton of research for multiple of my wips. Things like looking up lunar cycle calendars, weather forecasts and major events from previous years as well as finding every character’s canon birthday and creating ones for those who don’t have one 😭 I have put in WORK!

✨ I’m pretty good at English overall but I guess spelling and grammar are my strongest areas. Although I do find myself wanting to look up certain grammar at times to double check I’m using it correctly.

🥕 Timeline? Plot line? Not sure how to word it but just managing to get all my separate ideas and scenes to flow into each other and form the bigger picture/full story

🫘 Currently in the works I have a reddie fic from Eddie’s pov (but with a twist), the dual pov Black brothers fic, a wolfstar au inspired by one of my favourite books and an angsty semi canon-compliant wolfstar fic

🥳 Allow myself to start making art based on my stories. I think if I do that before the fics are finished I’ll just end up settling for the art and never finishing the writing. However when I finish a fic I can then make art and also use it as the fic cover!

🎃 Yes I think it would be fun to do some holiday oneshots, especially Halloween and Christmas (or for character’s birthdays if I remember)

🐾 I’d like to say yes but I struggle so much with deadlines I just don’t see myself finishing within the short time frame 😔

✍️ Hits and Comments! I’d like to know that people are actually reading and enjoying the stuff I put out especially when I’ve worked so hard on it :) I would say kudos but since you’re only allowed to leave 1 per fic the numbers wouldn’t be as accurate to how many people are actually reading/enjoying it

👾 Not finishing wips 💀 I have so many ideas for fics and random notes in multiple places and I just need to focus on finishing the few I’ve started

🤖 Not really. I write wherever and whenever the inspiration hits. Whether at my computer, on my phone or on my iPad. And usually I’ll be in bed or at my desk

🦷 Any of the super angsty scenes I have planned (none of them are fully formed ideas yet though so I can’t share snippets or say what in particular I’m scared to write)

💥 Heheheh yes but I can’t really say bc I don’t want to spoil my current favourite wip. It involves brotherly bickering though :)

🍕 Posting schedules aren’t important to me. I’ll post whenever I want to post. However I think I’d like to have the full fic finished before I start posting it. That way there’s no chance I’ll abandon it as a wip with a cliffhanger

🛏️ Again, pretty much any trope is a new trope as someone who has never finished a piece of writing 😭

🪩 Not sure if this is specifically a writing habit but I’m super proud of the ideas I come up with and I’d like to continue developing my existing ideas as well as creating new ones

🎉 I will acknowledge that this is the first year I have set any writing goals and that I can always finish off my goals next year, just like how I’ve only completed 1/4 of my Goodreads goals so far

💌 Yes!! Although I think I need to build more of a following on here/ao3 before that happens :)

PHEW! that was a lot!! But also very fun!! I can’t wait to get more into my writing this year and hopefully 🤞 finish one (or more) of my wips

tagging: @staliamazing

Writer Goal Ask List for a New Year 🎉

These writer asks are always so fun to both ask and answer. Fanfic or original fiction writers, reblog away! These are asks based in new goals for a new year.

💖 What is your primary writing goal for this year?

🛳 Are there any new ships you want to write for? (Platonic, romantic, or anything in between.)

🤔 Are there any new characters you want to write about?

🥸 Does anyone in IRL know you write fanfic or original fiction? If not, do you plan on telling anyone this year?

🥵 Any plans to write steamy or spicy content this year?

👻 Is there a new genre you'd like to write?

🦄 Is there a new POV you'd like to try writing?

🐌 What is one of your smallest writing goals?

🦖 Are there any fandoms you wrote for in the past that you'd like to return to?

🍄 Are there any fandoms you've never written for but want to try?

🌈 What research do you plan on doing for your writing?

✨What's one area of your writing that you think needs the least amount of improvement?

🥕 What's one area of your writing that you think needs the most amount of improvement?

🫘 Spill the beans. What's a new project you're doing this year?

🥳 How are you going to celebrate when you achieve one of your writing goals?

🎃 Do you plan on writing any seasonal fics?

🐾 Do you plan on writing for any fests or competitions?

✍️ Which stat matters most to you (if at all!): subscriptions, kudos/favorites, comments, bookmarks, word count, or hits?

👾 Do you have any "bad" writing habits you want to break?

🤖 Are you looking to change your current writing setup? (Or establish one, if you don't have one?)

🦷 Is there a chapter, scene, or WIP you're dreading to write (but is necessary to your plot)? Share a snippet or tell us about it!

💥Is there a chapter, scene, or WIP you're most excited to write? Share a snippet or tell us about it!

🍕Will you be making any changes to your posting schedule (if you have one)? (Or do you want to establish a posting schedule?)

🛏 Is there a new trope you'd like to write this year?

🪩 Do you have any "good" writing habits you want to cultivate?

🎉 How are you going to be kind to yourself if you don't meet your goals?

💌 Are you willing to take requests or prompts for writing?

[artbyblastweave]

As a person that knows a lot more about capeshit than me, what’s the meta-textual significance of the Superpowers in The Power Fantasy abstaining from establishing secret identities?

Principally it's to signal that the characters, while informed by the traditional superhero paradigm, exist largely outside of it.

Contemporary superhero fiction has a complicated relationship with the concept of The Secret Identity. When you come at the premise fresh without years of ossified genre convention, you get hit with the double whammy that a civilian identity is increasingly difficult to keep secret and that even if you buy into the idea of doing vigilante shit in secret to avoid going to jail, it's still going to take some extra work to get to the finish line of grown men calling themselves "Batman" or "Ant Man" and expecting to be taken seriously.

So, retellings will often go out of their way justify how these characters could develop these public identities semi-organically. "Superman" is usually not Clark Kent's idea in modern retellings- the media names him that, Lois names him that, and he runs with it. The Batman has the fantastic recurring gag that Bruce appears to actually self-identify as the comically overwrought "Vengeance," but the bat motif led to everyone just calling him Batman instead. The X-Men have advanced the idea, in a couple different forms, that "Mutant names" are a sub-cultural thing brushing up against a cult thing, a ceremonial way of setting yourself above and apart from baseline humanity. And you've got military callsigns, obviously. I think that's where "Ant-Man" and "Hawkeye" come from in the MCU.

In The Power Fantasy, none of the superpowers have a dual identity because they've all got extremely specific political (or artistic) projects that don't mesh well with that. To a degree I think this is playing in the same space as X-Men, where a lot of the cast have shifted over the years from being public ciphers to being public activists whose real names are on the news alongside their code names when they blow something up. But even if they don't have dual identities, the superpowers do have identities, personas, nicknames; there's a mix of deliberate image-building and outside-designation-by-society occurring. "Heavy" Harris is a thing an activist or cult leader who controls gravity could plausibly come to be called in the course of Moving and Shaking. Masumi is mentioned, in passing, to also go by the name of "Deconstructa," which reads like either a pretentious artist thing or a common-parlance nickname she picked up after the Kaiju thing. Eliza Hellbound is clearly not that woman's real name, but also, it is- and it's descriptive, and she's certainly powerful enough that that's what she gets to be called if she wants. "Jacky Magus" is really really really obviously not what's on that guys birth certificate, but it's also the only name he has that actually matters. Ettiene gets a whole monologue about the necessity of constructing himself as a figurehead that human governments can work with. He wears bright yellow, he gives interviews, and I will eat my hat if his actual last name is Lux. These people are similar to traditional superheroes in that they are constructing larger-than-life identities, they're playing a game, they're selling the world on specific narratives about themselves. But the truth that they're covering for is never that they've got some kind of secret civilian life waiting for them when they clock out. By choice or otherwise, all six of them are simply well past that.

[opbackgrounds]

The Romanticism of One Piece III: Emotionality and the Absurd

AO3 Part I Part II Part IV

“Do you think I am an automaton? — a machine without feelings?” —Charlotte Brontë

After opening with Roger’s death in chapter one, the perspective of the manga immediately switches to focus on our main protagonist, whose first action we see is of him stabbing himself in the face in order to look cool. The introductory panel of Luffy is one of childish, absurd determination. His mouth alone takes up over half his face. It looks a bit silly, and after patching him up, Shanks just…laughs. 

The Romantics, on the whole, were not silly people, but they were bursting at the seams with emotion. If you read a Romantic novel expect the characters to spend a great deal of time soliloquizing about their feelings. If you look at a Romantic painting expect bold colors and dynamism composition. If you listen to a Romantic musician expect songs that are passionate and full of energy, unrestrained from traditional forms. In a word, these people were extra. Specifically, the Romantics embraced the full spectrum of human emotion, from the depths of despair in a work like the Sorrows of Young Werther to the heights depicted within the essays of the American transcendentalism movement. 

This heightened emotionalism of the Romantics always trumped over what was realistic or scientific. For example, look at a work like Jane Eyre. While melodramatic, it’s a work that ostensibly takes place in the real world. Yet the most emotionally-charged moments introduce supernatural elements, including reuniting the main couple at the end when Jane randomly hears Mr. Rochester speak her name on the wind from halfway across the country. 

And by random, I truly do mean random. It’s difficult to put into words how out of left field this is for the reader. There are only a few pages left in the book, and by this time the main couple has spent more time apart than together and had no reason to believe they’d ever be reunited. But their love becomes a literal supernatural force strong enough for Jane to rush after him without hesitation, and they live happily ever after. 

(Please, I beg of you to watch the last 10 minutes of this movie. It was one of the most unintentionally hilarious experiences of my life).

It’s an extreme and slightly goofy example, but what is One Piece if not extreme and slightly goofy? It’s a story that, at its most fundamental level, makes you feel. We all know the pain of crying over a boat, and what makes the death of the Merry, along with any other number of things that should be stupid but aren’t, is Oda’s commitment to sincerity. Emotional truth trumps logic, always. It’s why we celebrate characters like Bellmere who can’t not call herself a mother, even if it costs her her life. The bond of found family is more powerful than the logical choice of denouncing Nami and Nojiko. Oda had other characters try to inject logic into Bellmere’s decision after the fact, but there’s no evidence from Bellemere herself that she was behaving logically, and we love her for it.

The artstyle itself emphasizes emotional truth over realism. Oda is more than capable of drawing in a more realistic or traditionally “cool” style if he wanted to, but it would be to the detriment of the story he’s trying to tell. Every smile takes up half a character’s face. People who are crying are portrayed as sniveling wrecks. Their fury becomes palpable, their hopelessness gut-wrenching, their joy contagious. Oda chose very early on not to give Luffy thought bubbles, and in the absence of knowing what he’s thinking, it was absolutely imperative that the audience knew what he’s feeling. The few times his expression becomes ambiguous immediately stand out and lend a scene a sense of weight that borders on unease.

This expressiveness doesn’t stop with the character designs. Oda will tweak perspective to make important people or places seem even larger than they really are. Buildings will follow Loony Toons logic if a gag calls for it. Locations and ships, particularly once the crew reaches the Grand Line, become absurd and impossible. 

(Remember, Hancock and Mihawk are both only a little over six foot tall)

But for One Piece, it’s in this absurdity that the impossible becomes possible, through sheer force of will. Luffy is on every level ridiculous, but it’s because he’s ridiculous that he choses at every turn to keep fighting against forces that by all rights should be impossible to defeat. Many of Luffy’s most despicable enemies are the ones who in some way or another have taken away other people’s ability to feel as they wish. Arlong took away Nami’s happiness and made her cry. Crocodile stole Vivi’s ability to smile. The zombies of Thriller Bark are reduced to mindless slaves while the toys under Doflamingo’s rule are physically unable to emote. And perhaps most powerfully of all, the people of Wano and the slaves of the Celestial Dragons are both forced to smile despite their horrific circumstances, a bastardization of the joy Luffy brings no matter where he goes. 

In his prelude to the Lyrical Ballads, William Wordsworth wrote that, “All good poetry is the overflow of powerful emotion”. He linked emotion to motion, or action, with the catalist between the two being the creative power of imagination. While many of Luffy’s fights are ultimately won because he’s able to punch another person real good, the seemingly limited ability of the gum-gum fruit forces him to come up with increasingly-creative ways in which one can stretch, until he’s able to stretch the fabric of reality itself to bend to his whims. It is said, in all the world, that there is no power more ridiculous.

At the end of chapter 218 a galleon falls from the sky, and Oda quotes fictional physicist Willy Karen as stating, “Anything man can imagine is a possibility in reality.” It is through the power of imagination and absurdity that Luffy fights against the forces of oppression. There is nothing more dangerous to an institution than losing its credibility, and nothing so dangerous to one’s credibility than the power of mockery. If one can face the darkest, most difficult times and still laugh then, well, they become a little less dark and difficult. By laughing, and helping others to do the same, it becomes easier to make it through another day. It’s important, I think, that Oda has emphasized the act of laughing so much, drawing attention to it by virtue of giving out unique laughs all throughout the series.

One Piece has the reputation of being the silly pirate manga. This isn’t untrue, but it does a disservice to the breadth of feeling the series inspires. As I said, we’ve all cried over a boat. Slavery, oppression, and every sort of hardship exist within the One Piece world just as much as it does our own. 

Oda’s answer is to combat these things with the silly and the absurd, by being creative and imaginative while pursuing one’s passions with one’s whole heart, no matter where those passions may lead. He tells the reader you have the right to feel as you wish and pursue joy wherever you may. And when you run up against resistance, you fight like hell for what you believe in. 

And as it turns out, that’s a Romantic virtue, too.

[befallenstars-archive]

Oh, my...I did not read the 15k words part. However, we are here.

Before I yap— Eris, have I ever told you that there's something about the way you write that catches my interest? Can't really put it into words just yet. Maybe if I read more I'll eventually formulate that feeling into words~

Alright, spoilers under the cut! And LOTS of yapping~

Blade

Going for the single bed trope I see...this'll be interesting (¬ ͜ ͡¬)

Okay, but I do find it funny that the reason he wanted to share the bed was for the reader and him to get better rest. Only for the two of them to NOT get a wink of sleep. Reader toss

Love to see a reader that doesn't back down and even takes on a challenge. And oop— would you look at that. Nobody's really getting any sleep now. Hopefully, the bed frame's sturdy enough! And that the walls are thick enough for the sake of the neighbors.

"Knowing you did that to him-that you could make this cold, calculating man lose control-sent an electric thrill through you." Mnhmmm...I'm sure it did.

I think the maintenance of professional distance flew out of the window the moment he said they should share the same bed— to which was literally made for a single person alone. Also when the reader agreed.

Please, just fuck already—

Did I get slightly absorbed in reading that I forgot to make comments? Yes. Sorry. I actually came back to drop a comment about the headboard bc I'm praying for that thing to survive the night.

Also...whoooo *fans self* there's a reason I was a bit occupied with reading than commenting. That bit was VERY distracting.

Ah, a touch of sadomasochism. Love to see it.

Personally, I've always been weak when it comes to the magic phrase "pretty girl". Always will be actually.

Hey!!! The bed frame survived. At least they'll be able to sleep comfortably now.

And the softness of the ending. From passionate and almost feral but gently holding each other and savoring the moment <333

Sunday

THE TENSION.

Ohhh, the underlying yearning and fear of speaking out because of the status. Wanting to just close that small gap and yet it feels like such a wide wedge between two people who simply want to love one another.

I am unwell.

"Tell me to stop," he whispers, his forehead against yours. You don't.

What if I flatline—

Yes. Go, reader! Tell him! That man's holding back too much when he already has such a gorgeous being in his arms who clearly wants him. Stop trying to play hard to get, Sunday.

Did I get distracted? AGAIN? Yes. Yes, I did.

Came back to comment when he said that he'd be gentle. Oh, his constant reassurances, and the way he does his best to memorize and savour the intimate moment with the reader. I am sighing out dreamily and swooning into a fluffy couch. He's even focusing on the reader's pleasure and comfort!!

...all these praises have me looking the side blushing and fanning myself—

THE CONFESSION. I'M TEARING UP AS WE SPEAK. THE WAY HE'S BEGGING??? I'M ON THE FLOOR.

I actually wanted to pick a dialogue to put here and fawn over but all of them are actually too good. I can't pick one. All of them are just— URGH

"His arms wrap around you, holding you close. It's a protective gesture, as if he's afraid you might slip away if he lets go."

Lemme see if I can find that one specific meme that describes how I feel rn...

AHA! FOUND IT!

Did you know? I'm actually an absolute sucker for the lines that go "You're home". Very much so. That was the final nail to the coffin.

Agrenti

Oop— fanboy behavior, huh?

Ngl, I'm fairly new to HSR so I don't really know this character. But he seems like such a sweet guy. Deserves tons of kisses.

"He didn't know whether to laugh or combust." Pretty understandable if someone as lovely and amazing as the reader offers to be your first kiss.

...giving me a wolf hidden in sheep's clothing vibes rn. Interesting. Nvm, he's still a sweetheart <3

He reminds me of a bunny somehow. Like I just wanna pet him and reassure him that he's fine. Very adorable too hehe

Reader has this man completely in the palm of their hand, I fear. Dude is absolutely SMITTEN.

He's so sweet huhu

The ending!! So soft and lovely. Just two people just enjoying the connection they have.

Aventurine

I will never tire of the way you write the reader, Eris! The sassy and confident attitude? Oh, please! I might just started simping for her instead of the men at this point—

"I’m pretty sure the only thing you’ve carried is that overinflated ego of yours.” IM WHEEZING AS WE SPEAK.

“What can I say? You’re entertaining, like a fancy slot machine with nice hair.” *cue incoherent fox wheezing noises* NO BC I AM IN LOVE WITH THESE REMARKS.

I just know the dealer's just there looking up to the ceiling and praying to whatever aeon there is to let the reader and this man just get a room before he has to call for both security and clean-up service.

Was the gap between feedbacks a bit...lengthy? Yes. But in my defense it's only 'cuz a certain writer over here really knows her way with words on how to make the tension so thick and palpable that I'm too busy drowning in it to make any comments.

"Let me take care of you." I dunno if you'll be able to tell which part I am on rn but I promise you that I am absolutely blushing and burying my face against my pillows.

"He moans in response" I am currently dying from a nosebleed.

Unsurprisingly, I'm weak towards the specific petname "love"...

I absolutely adore the softness of it all afterwards. My heart's melting huhu

Dr. Ratio

*breathes in*

THE INTIMACY—

Good gods, I am over here just reading the first scenes and I can already feel the tension seeping into my bones. I'm just here with a hand over my mouth, and completely invested in the way this all unfolds.

This one feels so...intimate somehow. I can't really explain it and I am absolutely loving it. I think it's in the way that most of the time the reader is more fiery and sassy while here? It feels like there's a bit more depth to it. Such a good read and I'm literally still at the first part.

"Let's move somewhere private." Yeah, I agree since I recall Aventurine saying they'll be back in a bit. Hell, I'm not even gonna be surprised if they were in the shadows making bets about how this all goes, and didn't want to disturb the moment.

"His words were sincere, giving you an out if you needed it. But the way his eyes roamed over your face, the way his fingers tightened ever so slightly around yours, betrayed his own longing." + "Tell me you need me as much as I need you."

I AM WEAK IN THE KNEES FOR THIS.

"He stepped back slightly, giving you a moment to take in the sight of him..." Hands on my hips rn. I also had to take a moment to go 'Really?' with an exasperated expression on my face.

Devotion. First word that came to mind. I adore that so so very much.

I am feeling this fic was definitely the favorite child.

Wait. Just finished the fic. Lemme gather my thoughts. That— I...uhm..how...wow. Who knew a smut at 8AM could render me speechless in a good way, eh?

I just KNOW this fic was definitely the favorite child. Though the ending was a lot more bittersweet than I expected huhu

Jing Yuan

Ah, last but not the least. Unsure how to feel abt this one since I found him unnerving when I first met him in-game.

"Stop thinking so much." Goddamn, I wish it were a switch I could just turn off—

WELL, THAT THREW ME OFF-GUARD.

Was I once again sucked into the tension that I completely forgot to make comments? Yes. I'm sorry. It's not my fault. Eris writes them too well.

By this point, I truly have a love and hate relationship with this man. Do I still find him unnerving? Yes. But he also extremely attractive that it's unfair when matched with the honeyed-tongue of his.

Struggling rn/lh

...having even more mixed feelings abt Jing Yuan bc of this fic—

But alas! Setting that aside...

Eris, I am positively in love with your writing <3

༉‧₊˚. Turning Page ˚.₊༉

Ft. Sunday ノ Blade ノ Aventurine ノ Dr Ratio ノ Jing Yuan ノ Argenti

sum: unintended one night stands with hsr men wc: 15.7k (roughly 2k - 3k per part)

contains: fempovノpnv (unprotected), creampie, (protected in argenti's), oral (receiving and giving), fingering, handjob, college au in argenti's, royal au in sunday's, both had been drinking in ratio's, legal age gap in jing yuan's, loss of virginity (reader's in sunday's part & argenti's in his part)

a/n: argenti's just so sweet <333

༉ - 2k

The safe house was cramped and freezing, with bare walls that felt as though they'd been forgotten by time. The mission was far from over, and so was the night. Blade had insisted on sharing the only bed, his reasoning being that it made more sense for both of you to rest.

You didn’t argue, at least not openly—but as the minutes dragged on, frustration slowly began to creep in.

But beneath it all, there was an undercurrent, a taut thread of tension that whispered of something unspoken—a frustration you weren’t ready to confront.

The bed was far too small for two people. You could feel his presence constantly, his shoulder brushing against yours with every move you made. It was impossible to ignore the heat radiating from his body, or the quiet tension hanging in the air. The silence between you felt suffocating, far too thick.

You shifted again, desperate to find a comfortable spot, but it was futile. His warmth pressed into your side, too close for comfort. No matter which way you turned, there was only more of him—his body right there, almost too much. You tried to pull away, but the space was so tight you were only met with the sharp edges of the bed, forcing you back into him.

“Stop moving,” Blade muttered, his voice low and laced with irritation. But there was something else, a tension that hinted at a deeper frustration.

“This bed barely fits one person, let alone two,” you shot back, your tone tighter than you intended.

He didn’t miss a beat, “You’re welcome to take the floor.”

It wasn’t a real suggestion, the teasing smirk in his voice was undeniable. You huffed, exasperated, letting out a frustrated sigh as the bed creaked under the smallest of movements. It was maddening—this small space, the constant proximity, his body so close that your nerves hummed with awareness. It wasn’t just frustration anymore. Your heart was racing, and not for reasons you wanted to admit.

Neither of you spoke for what felt like an eternity. The only sounds were your breathing and the ruffling of the duvet. Then Blade's voice sliced through that quiet like a knife. "You're too tense," he said, softer than before but with an edge. "Relax.”

You nearly laughed. Relax? In a bed this small, pressed up against him, with everything swirling between you? It was impossible. Instead, you shifted again, purposefully leaning just a little more into him, testing his patience.

He stiffened, just slightly. "Stop."

It wasn't an order, per se- more of a warning beneath the restraint of desire. The space between you was alive, humming with an unspoken something. Perhaps it was that frustrated buzz of being too close, or perhaps it was simply fatigue from the mission.

"I don't think either of us is getting any sleep tonight," you murmured.

Blade's response was a low grumble, his voice rougher than before. "You're right." Then, ever so slightly, he moved closer, closing the gap until you could feel the heat of his body right against yours again. That subtle shift was enough for your breath to catch in your throat, and the space between you began pulsating with something far more dangerous than mere proximity.

He shifted; his eyes razor-sharp as he spoke, his voice low, almost too calm. "If you're going to keep fidgeting, just say what it is you want.”

You shifted again, your body moving against his in a slow, deliberate motion. The air between you wasn’t just charged—it was thick with unspoken desires and the undeniable pull of him. His heat radiated against your back, his presence a magnetic force that sent a shiver cascading down your spine.

"I don’t know what I want," you murmured, your voice a betrayal. The words faltered under the weight of their lie, and you knew he heard it too. You did know and so did he.

Blade's eyes narrowed, his gaze nearly predatory. "Don't play games," he warned, his voice low.

You could feel the hardness of his erection pressing against your ass, insistent and unmistakable. It sent an electric jolt right to your core, making your breath hitch. Knowing you did that to him-that you could make this cold, calculating man lose control-sent an electric thrill through you.

You bit your lip, fighting a moan as Blade's erection pressed even harder against your ass. The intense heat coming off his body seeped into your skin. You knew you should pull away, maintain the professional distance between, but temptation just proved too strong.

You arched your back, pushing against him. A low groan rumbled from his lips and you could feel his control slipping, his resolve crumbling under the weight of his need.

"Don't tease," he growled, low and rough with desire. His fingers gripped your skin, firm and possessive, leaving faint crescents in their wake. A warning, a promise. You should stop this—walk away before the fire consumes you both. But you didn’t. Instead, your body moved of its own accord, your back arching again, pressing your ass against him with deliberate insistence.

The low, guttural sound that escaped his lips was almost feral, reverberating through you and igniting something wild. Blade’s hand slid up your thigh, his fingertips grazing the edge of your shorts. You knew you should probably stop this but as his fingers hovered, promising more, the pull of temptation was too strong and you couldn’t push him away. You didn’t want to.

"Blade." you breathed, your voice barely above a whisper.

His fingers curled around your thigh, jerking you closer. "Don't say my name like that," he growled, his voice low and rough with wanting. "Not unless you mean it."

You reached back deliberately, slowly, your hand finding his wrist. But instead of pushing him away, you pulled his hand higher, guiding his fingers to the damp heat between your legs. A low groan escaped his lips as he felt how wet you were, how much you wanted this.

Blade's fingers circled your clit, sending a shockwave of pleasure through your body. You bit your lip, trying to hold back a moan. His touch was electric, making your body shake with need.

His fingers slid lower, teasing your entrance, and making you ache for more. You arched your back, pressing your ass harder against his bulge. The friction was maddening; the heat between your bodies was almost unbearable.

"Please," you whispered. The word slipped out before you could catch it. "Blade, please."

The low growl was his immediate response, and his fingers slipped inside you. "Fuck," he growled, sounding rough with desire. "You're so wet."

You gasped as Blade's fingers plunged deep inside you, your hips bucked involuntarily, seeking more. His other hand gripped your hip, holding you in place as he thrust his fingers in and out, setting a brutal pace that had you seeing stars.

"That’s it-" he purred, his voice low and rough, sending shivers skittering down your spine. His lips brushed your ear as he spoke, the words a seductive growl. "Take what you need."

The thought of his cock filling you, made your head spin. Your hand moved instinctively, fingers fumbling in a desperate attempt to free his cock. Blade's breath caught as your fingers reached around to his cock, stroking him through the fabric of his pants. You turned in his arms, facing him now, his eyes were dark with lust as you straddled him. "I want you," you breathed.

His hands gripped your hips,  "Are you sure?" he growled, his voice rough with restraint.

You nodded, your lips skimming his.

His resolve shattered. You reached between your bodies, your hand slipping inside his pants to free him. His cock sprang free, thick and heavy in your hand, the tip slick with precum. You wrapped your fingers around him, stroking him slowly, teasing him, delighting in the low, guttural sound that rumbled through his chest. Blade’s control cracked further as his hips jerked into your hand.

"I'm sure," you breathed, positioning yourself above him. "I want you to fuck me, Blade. I need it."

With that, you sank down onto him, taking his cock deep inside you in one smooth motion. A low moan tore from your throat at the sensation of being stretched and filled so completely. Blade's hands tightened on your hips, his fingers leaving bruises in their wake.

"Fuck," he growled, his head falling back against the pillow. "You feel so good."

You started to move, rising up and sinking back down, finding a rhythm that had sparks of pleasure shooting through your body with each thrust. Blade matched your movements, his hips snapping up to meet yours, driving himself deeper inside you.

The room was filled with the sounds of your moans and the slap of skin on skin, the bed creaking beneath you while you rode him.

"Harder," you demanded, your nails raking down his chest. "Fuck me harder."

Blade's response was to flip you onto your back, never once slipping out of you. He loomed over you, his eyes wild and hungry, his hips pistoning into you with a force that had the headboard slamming against the wall.

Your legs coiled around his waist, pulling him closer, deeper, urging him to claim you fully. A moan tore from your lips, unbridled and desperate. "Yes," you gasped, your fingers clutching the sheets as his cock stretched and filled you, the sensation both overwhelming and addicting. "Don’t stop—just like that."

He silenced you with a bruising kiss, his mouth crashing against yours with a fervour that bordered on feral. His tongue danced against yours, matching the rhythm of his hips, exploring and claiming. You met him with equal hunger, your teeth grazing his bottom lip, the taste of copper blooming as you bit down. The sharp pain only seemed to drive him wilder.

Blade’s rhythm faltered for a moment, becoming chaotic, each thrust harder, deeper, as if he was losing control. His breath was ragged against your mouth, his groan reverberating low in his chest. "Fuck," he growled, the word guttural, strained, trembling with need. "I’m so close."

Your nails raked down his sweat-slicked back, leaving fiery trails along his skin. "Me too," you managed between breathless gasps, your body arching into him, seeking the climax coiling tight within you. "Don’t stop. Please don’t stop."

His movements turned punishing, each drive a collision of raw power and desperation, his body demanding your surrender. The pressure inside you built to a fever pitch, a tether about to snap. Blade’s voice cut through the haze, low and commanding, "Come for me, pretty girl."

Those words, spoken with such command, were enough to send you over the edge. Your body convulsed, your inner walls clamping down around Blade's cock as your orgasm crashed over you in waves of intense, overwhelming pleasure.

"Yes -God yes!" you cried out, your head thrown back.

Blade followed, his hips slamming into you one final time as his release overtook him. His guttural groan was almost primal, his cock throbbing inside you as he poured himself into you, his body trembling with the force of his orgasm as some of his cum dripped out, running down your thighs.

For a moment, neither of you moved. The only sound was of your mingled breaths. Your bodies shone with sweat, were entwined. His weight pressed you into the mattress, exhaustion in his muscles.

Blade’s lips brushed against your temple, softer now, a contrast to the raw passion that had consumed you both moments before. And as your heartbeats slowed, his presence became the only thing you knew—a warmth, a gravity, pulling you under.

Blade rolled onto his back beside you, his arm pulling you close. You snuggled into his side, your head resting on his chest.

"That was..." you started, but words failed you.

Blade chuckled softly, his fingers tracing lazy patterns on your skin. "Yeah," he agreed, his voice uncharacteristically soft. "It was."

༉ - 2.8k

The corridors are quieter than usual tonight, save for the faint echo of your footsteps and the sound of Sir Sunday’s armour as he walks beside you. You have done this many times before: this midnight escort from the ballroom to your chambers, accompanied by your knight. But there was something about tonight that felt different and maybe that’s because the event was hosted to find you a suitor.

The silence stretches, broken only by the soft rustle of your gown against the polished floor. His presence always feels heavier, and there's an edge to the air between you, something unsaid pressing against the confines of propriety.

"They were all good choices," Sunday says at last, in a low and even tone.

Your brow furrows. "Were they?"

He doesn't look at you as he replies. "I'd expect so. The court wouldn't invite anyone unworthy.".

You look over at him, catching the faint tension in his jaw. There's something restrained in the way he speaks tonight, something tightly wound beneath the surface. "And yet, I didn't choose any of them.".

He exhales sharply, the sound barely audible over his steps. “I’m sure you had your reasons.”

You slow your pace just enough that he has to adjust his stride to match. “Would you like to know them?”

His gaze flickers toward you briefly, a flash of gold under the dim light. “I doubt they’re for me to know, Your Highness.”

You stop to face him. The soft light casts shadows across his features, sharp and unreadable as always, but there’s something in his stance—a slight hesitation, the way his hand hovers just above the hilt of his sword—that betrays him.

"Maybe they are," you say, softer now, your voice barely enough to draw his attention fully.

For a moment, the distance between you feels insurmountable, though it's only a step or two. He doesn't speak, doesn't move, but his eyes search yours, as if trying to piece together what you're not saying aloud.

"I dismissed them all because none of them felt…" You pause, to think over the words. "....Right."

Sunday's grip tightens on the hilt of his sword. "You'll have to choose eventually," he says, deliberately keeping his voice neutral. "The court won't let you wait forever.".

"And what if I don't want to?"

The question hangs in the air, daring him to respond. You watch the flicker of something in his expression—surprise, perhaps, or maybe something deeper, something he’s worked too hard to keep buried.

“You’re the princess,” he says, but the words are softer this time, almost hesitant.

"And you're my knight," you reply, closing the distance.

He doesn't back up, but you notice the way his shoulders tense. "Exactly. And that is all I can be.".

Your breath catches at how his voice drops on the last word. There's no anger in it, no bitterness—only a quiet resignation.

"You think so, huh?" you whisper, not much louder than a whisper.

He turns away, tongue against his cheek. "I do."

You lift a hand before you can stop yourself, fingers brushing against the cold steel of his chest plate. The contrast between the armour and the warmth of the man beneath it sends a shiver through you. He freezes at the contact, his gaze snapping back to yours.

"Sunday…". His name is too familiar on your lips, but you can't stop.

"Don't." His voice is rough, but his hand rises, fingers curling loosely around your wrist. He doesn't pull you away, though; he doesn't move at all. "If you say anything else, I won't be able to forget it."

"Maybe I don't want you to."

The words have barely left your lips when he takes a step closer, erasing the distance between you. His eyes still remain so intense that they're pinning you in place, but there's a flicker of uncertainty there, too.

"This isn't a decision you can take lightly," he says in a low, hoarse voice.

"I already have."

He watches you, a silence building between you, gaining more and more weight with each passing second. Then, as if something inside him finally snaps, he lets go of your wrist only to frame your face with both hands.

"Tell me to stop," he whispers, his forehead against yours.

You don't.

His breath catches as you lean into his touch, your eyes fluttering closed for a moment. When you open them again, "I won't ask again," he whispers, his thumb tracing the line of your jaw.

You swallow hard, your heart pounding so loudly that you are sure he can hear it. But you don't step back. You don't tell him to stop. You simply tilt your chin up, just a fraction, an invitation he doesn't need twice.

His lips brush against yours, tender at first, then pressing. It's the sort of kiss that seems like one great confession, revelation, and promise all at once. His hands move to the small of your back, drawing you closer, and you can't help but melt into him, your fingers twisting in the fabric of his tunic.

When he finally pulls back, you’re both breathing hard. His eyes are dark, pupils blown wide, and there’s a hunger in his gaze that makes your stomach flip.

"We can't…" he begins, but the words are half-hearted, not very convincing.

"We can," you correct, your voice steadier than you feel.

He looks at you for a long moment, something fierce and tender warring in his expression. Then, with a low groan, he surges forward again, capturing your lips with his own. This kiss is harder, more urgent, and you can feel the way his body trembles against yours.

“Your chambers” he mumbles against your mouth. “Now.”

Without any warning, he sweeps you into his arms, cuddling you against his chest as he heads down the hall. Your heart races with the sudden motion, but you do nothing to protest it-merely wrapping your arms around his neck for balance.

The castle is quiet at this time of night, most people having gone to bed. You feel as though you have the whole world to yourselves as Sunday carries you swiftly through the halls, his footsteps echoing in the stillness.

He doesn’t wait around when you reach your chambers: he kicks the door shut behind you and pins you against it with his body, hands roaming over your curves, mapping out your form through the layers of your gown.

“I’ve wanted this for so long,” he growls, his lips trailing hot kisses along your jawline. “Wanted you.”

You arch into him, your head falling back as you let him in closer. "Then take me," you whisper, fingers curling in his hair.

He makes a low sound in his throat, something between a groan and a growl. His fingers find the fastenings of your dress and begin to undo them one by one, till the fabric pools at your feet. You stand before him clad in nothing other than your chemise, the thin material doing little to mask the signs of your body's reaction to his touch.

His gaze rakes over you, hungry and appreciative. "You're so beautiful," he murmurs, his fingers tracing the curve of your waist.

He lifts you easily and sets you down on the bed. The sheets are cold against your bare skin as he lays you down, his body following yours, looking down at you with an intensity that takes the breath from your lungs.

"You sure about this?" he asks low, his voice rough with emotion.

You nod, reaching up to cup his face in your hands. "I've never been more sure of anything in my life," you whisper.

That seems to be the only confirmation he needs. He bends down, his lips meeting yours in a kiss that sends a tide of heat through your body, his tongue plunging into your mouth to taste you thoroughly. You moan against his lips, your hands roving over his hard back.

His lips trail down your neck, tracing a path of fire in their wake. He pauses to suckle at your pulse point, and you can feel the way your heart races beneath his tongue. His hands slip under your chemise, and his calloused fingers skim the sensitive skin of your stomach.

"Sunday-" you gasp, arching into his touch.

“I’ve got you,” he murmurs, his breath hot against your ear. “Just relax.”

You do your best to listen, focusing on the feel of his hands on your skin. He explores you at leisure, learning every dip and curve, every spot that makes you sigh or whimper. By the time he carefully removes your panties, you're trembling with need.

He looks up at you, his eyes dark with wanting. "Tell me if you want me to stop," he says, his fingers teasing at your entrance.

"Don't-please-."

He pauses, his fingers stilling above your pussy. His eyes meet yours, filled with a tenderness that makes your heart ache. "Are you-" he starts, his voice soft.

You nod, knowing exactly what he’s going to ask, "I've never…”

His expression softens further, if that’s even possible. He presses a kiss to your forehead, then your cheek, then your lips. “I’ll be gentle,” he promises. “We’ll take this slow.”

As you nod, he drops between your legs and his breath ghosts over your folds. He starts off slow, his tongue tracing delicate patterns and teasing you with light touches until, gradually, the pressure builds up, licking and sucking on your clit until you're gasping and writhing beneath him.

His hands grip your thighs, holding you open as he works you with his mouth. He is patient, very attentive, judging by your reactions and modulating his technique accordingly. When you're trembling near the edge, he slips a finger inside you, then two, stretching you slowly.

"That's it," he mutters, his voice muffled against your skin.

He groans against your skin, the vibrations sending shivers through you. "You taste so fucking good," he mumbles, his words just a little slurred. "Can't get enough."

As he continues to lap at your clit, his free hand slides down his own body, disappearing beneath the waistband of his trousers. You can hear the slick sound of skin on skin as he begins to stroke himself.

"Fuck," he gasps, his hips bucking into his hand. "Want to be inside you so badly."

He redoubles his efforts, his tongue delving deep, his fingers pumping faster. The dual sensations are almost too much to bear, and you can feel your orgasm building, your inner walls starting to flutter around his fingers.

"That's it," he encourages, his voice strained. "Come for me, baby. I want to taste you."

With a few more well-placed licks, you're there, crying out as pleasure crashes over you in waves. He laps at your release, his own hand moving frantically over his cock, his groans muffled from where he’s buried himself against your folds.

He easily settles himself between your thighs, his cock at your entrance. His eyes were filled with a mixture of lust and tenderness as he looked down at you.

"You ready?" he asks, his voice low and rough.

You nod, reaching up to cup his face in your hands. "Yes," you whisper. "I'm ready."

With a low groan, he starts to push inside, slow and careful with his movements. There's only a slight sting as he pushes in deeper, his eyes widening in concern.

"Does it hurt?" he asks, his brow furrowed.

You shake your head, reaching up to cup his face. "No, I'm okay. Please, don't stop."

He searches your eyes for a moment, then nods, leaning down to capture your lips in a tender kiss.

You can feel every inch of him as he stretches you, filling you in a way you never have been filled before; it's agonisingly slow, but he refuses to be selfish and make this about his own pleasure.

"Fuck," he gasps, his forehead resting against yours. "You feel incredible."

He gives you a moment to adjust, his hips pressed flush against yours. He starts to move, his thrusts slow and shallow at first. Each drag of his cock against your sensitive walls sends sparks of pleasure through you, and you can't help but moan.

"That's it," he encourages, his voice strained. "Let me hear you."

He increases his pace gradually, his hands gripping your hips for leverage. The sound of skin slapping against skin fills the room, mingling with your gasps and cries.

He leans down to capture your lips in a searing kiss, swallowing your moans. His tongue delves into your mouth, mimicking the rhythm of his hips.

"You're taking me so well," he praises, his breath hot against your ear. "Such a good girl."

His hips roll in a steady rhythm, each thrust sending sparks of pleasure through you. One hand slides up your side, cupping your breast and thumbing your nipple. The dual sensations make you gasp into his mouth.

"You're so beautiful," he breathes, his eyes locked on yours. "So perfect."

He shifts slightly, changing the angle of his thrusts. You cry out as he hits a particularly sensitive spot deep inside you.

"There," he groans, doing it again. "Is that good?"

You can only nod, your nails digging into his back as he drives you higher and higher. The pleasure builds with each stroke, coiling tighter and tighter in your core.

He groans, his hips snapping forward as he buries himself deep inside you. "Fuck, angel," he pants, his voice strained with pleasure. "I love you. I've loved you for so long."

The confession bursts from his lips in something like prayer, and his eyes shine with its vehemence. It is as though a dam has burst inside him and all his pent-up feelings are pouring out in this moment.

"I know you're s'posed to pick one from the court," he goes on, his pistoning never flagging. "But don't. Please. Don't give yourself to anybody else."

His hands clamp down on your hips, fingers digging in soft. "Choose me," he begs, his voice cracking. "Be mine. Only mine."

You can almost feel the desperation in his words, the raw need. It's readily apparent how the thought of you with another man is tearing him apart.

"I'll do anything," he whispers, his forehead against yours. "Anything to keep you. Just say you'll be mine."

His words are like a warm bath washing over you, filling your heart full of something that has nothing to do with physical pleasure. In this moment, you know without a single doubt that you want to be his and his alone. 

"I'm yours," you breathe, legs wrapping around his waist. "Now and always." He surges forward, capturing your lips in a reverent, passionate kiss. He picks up speed, his hips moving faster, harder, as though he's trying to pour every ounce of love he has into you.

"I love you," he gasps against your mouth. "I love you so much."

His thrusts grow more erratic, his breath coming in short, sharp gasps. "Fuck," he groans. "I'm close. So close."

You could feel him throbbing inside of you, his cock pulsing with each stroke. Your pleasure was mounting to a crescendo as well, your inner walls fluttering around him.

"Come with me," he pleads, voice ragged. "I want to feel you come undone." His hand snakes between your bodies, finding your clit. He rubs tight circles around the sensitive nub, and that's all it takes. You cry out as your orgasm crashes over you, your body shaking with the force of it. 

He follows a moment later, his hips stuttering as he spills himself deep inside you. He falls on top of you, his weight pinning you to the mattress. His cock still is buried deep inside, pulsating with aftershocks of his orgasm.

He nuzzles into the crook of your neck, his breath hot against your skin. "That was... incredible," he murmurs, his voice muffled.

His arms wrap around you, holding you close. It's a protective gesture, as if he's afraid you might slip away if he lets go.

"Stay with me," he whispers, his lips brushing your pulse point. "Don't leave me."

You curl into him, relishing the feeling of his body against yours. "I'm not going anywhere," you promise. "I'm right here."

He sighs contentedly, his grip on you loosening slightly. "Good," he murmurs. "Because I don't think I could bear it if you married any of them."

You smile, your fingers tracing idle patterns on his back. In this moment, everything feels right. The world outside might be chaos, but here, in his arms, you're safe. You're home.

༉ - 3.1k

Argenti sat on the floor of your dorm room, trying his best not to feel completely out of place. He’d been here a few times already—enough to recognise the familiar scent of citrus from the candles you always kept burning. But even so, it still felt a little surreal. You, the girl everyone at the university seemed to know and admire, had somehow invited him into your space.

He wasn’t entirely sure how it had happened. One night, a random chat at a party turned into shared laughs, then another conversation, until the two of you were talking long after your friends had left. Since then, you’d found reasons to hang out, even though it seemed to baffle everyone around you. You, the social butterfly, and him, the reserved guy who somehow ended up regularly meeting up with you outside of classes.

“It’s weird, isn’t it?” you suddenly said, breaking the comfortable silence as you lounged on your bed.

“What’s weird?” Argenti asked, glancing up from the guitar pick he’d been absentmindedly fiddling with.

“Us.” You made a vague gesture between the two of you, the hint of a smirk tugging at the corners of your lips. “I mean, we’re just very different”

Argenti blinked, unsure of what you meant. Was it a good different? Or a bad one? “I—I guess,” he stammered, his voice unsure. “But it works, doesn’t it?”

You tilted your head, studying him with an expression he couldn’t quite place. “Yeah, it does,” you finally said, your smile softening. “You’re sweet, Argenti.”

“Thanks?” he mumbled, his face warming up. He wasn’t sure how to respond to that, but the compliment made him feel a little lighter.

You laughed at his blush suddenly wondering if there was a reason he became so flustered over small things. Sitting up, you leaned forward, resting your chin in your hand. “Have you ever kissed anyone before?”

Argenti froze, his face going red in an instant. “Uh… why?”

You shrugged, clearly amused by his reaction. “Because you’ve got that look. You know, like you’ve thought about it a lot but never actually done it.”

“I don’t… have a look,” he muttered, but even his awkward attempt to brush it off didn’t work. “But no. I haven’t.”

Your eyes widened, and then you laughed—a genuine, playful laugh that felt more teasing than mean. “Wait, seriously? Not even like a dare or something?”

He shifted uncomfortably, looking anywhere but at you. “No,” he mumbled, feeling heat crawl up his neck. “I just… never really had the chance.”

You didn’t let up. “You’re telling me you’ve gone your whole life without even one kiss?”

“I didn’t say I didn’t want to,” he blurted out, immediately regretting it. He winced, wishing he could take the words back.

“Oh?” You raised an eyebrow, the teasing gleam in your eyes shifting into something more playful. “Are you saying you want to change that?”

“I—I didn’t mean—” Argenti stammered, his face burning. But then your hand brushed lightly against his arm, and he looked up to find you studying him, a mysterious glint in your eyes.

“You want me to teach you?” you asked, your voice quiet now, though still carrying that playful edge.

His heart skipped a beat. “I don’t want you to feel like you have to—”

“Relax, Argenti,” you said, leaning in just a little closer. “I’m not doing this out of pity. Trust me, you’re a good looking guy, pretty face.”

He didn’t know whether to laugh or combust, but before he could say anything, you were already moving in, your gaze locked on his as you tilted your head. “Okay,” you murmured, voice soft. “Here’s how this works. Don’t overthink it. Just… follow my lead, alright?”

He nodded, his thoughts jumbled as he fought to find his bearings. Then your lips brushed against his—gentle, almost tentative, testing the waters. It was quick, almost too quick, and when you pulled away, you studied him with an amused expression, clearly pleased by the way he’d reacted.

Argenti’s mind spun for a moment, still reeling from the sudden soft pressure of your lips. But as your eyes met his again, something inside him clicked. The hesitation, the awkwardness—it all seemed so distant now. This was real, and there was no way he was going to let it slip away.

Without thinking, his hand rose to cup your cheek, gently pulling you toward him. His heart raced as the space between you vanished, and in a smooth motion, he leaned in again, this time with a newfound confidence.

The kiss came quickly, without hesitation, and it was unrestrained, still soft, but with a sense of urgency he hadn��t expected. He kissed you with intention now, the sweetness and eagerness spilling out in the way his lips moved against yours. His hand slid to the back of your neck, fingers threading into your hair, pulling you just a little closer as if he wanted to lose himself in the moment. He’d never felt anything like this before.

The kiss wasn’t perfect. He stumbled a little, his lips not quite finding the rhythm, a few moments of clumsy movement as he tried to keep up. But in that imperfection, there was something pure. There was something real about it. Each time his lips brushed against yours, a little out of sync, you were patient, guiding him back.

It didn’t matter that he wasn’t a seasoned kisser. He made up for it with sweetness—lingering just a little longer than necessary, his hand never leaving your cheek, as if it was the only thing that mattered in the world. Each time he leaned back in, he was driven by a need to prove that he could do this, that he wanted to be here with you.

When he finally pulled back, his breath coming in shallow gasps, he couldn’t help but glance up at you, his chest rising and falling rapidly, as if he’d just run a marathon. His lips were swollen, and a nervous smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. “Sorry,” he murmured, his voice quieter now. “I probably messed that up.”

But when your gaze met his, there was no judgement, only amusement—and something softer, something deeper in your eyes.

“No,” you said gently, tracing your fingers along his jaw. “You didn’t mess it up. It was… sweet. Really sweet.”

Argenti’s heart did a flip at the praise, and the knot in his stomach began to loosen. “I just—wanted to do it right,” he admitted quietly. “I didn’t want to mess it up with you.”

You smiled, that familiar teasing gleam still in your eyes, but now with something warmer behind it. “Well, you didn’t. And if it helps, I think you’ve got a lot of potential. It’s just… practice.” You raised an eyebrow, your lips curling mischievously. “And maybe a little bit of confidence. But don’t worry, I’m happy to teach you.”

The words sent a thrill through him. “I think I could learn from you,” he said, his voice a little breathless, his smile genuine. He was starting to feel more at ease, less unsure of himself. “I don’t mind practising.”

You laughed softly, your fingers brushing across his cheek, sending another wave of warmth through him. “Good,” you said, your voice light but sincere. “Because I’m not letting you off that easily.”

He leaned in, capturing your lips in another kiss, this one deeper, more urgent. His hands roamed your back, pulling you closer, eliminating any distance between your bodies.

He could feel the warmth of your skin through your clothes, could smell the faint scent of your perfume. It was dizzying, overwhelming in the best way. He lost himself in the sensation, in the taste of your lips, the softness of your mouth.

When you finally broke apart, both of you were breathing hard. Argenti's eyes were dark, pupils dilated with desire. "I want..." he started, then faltered, unsure how to put the ache inside him into words.

"What do you want, Argenti?" you asked, your voice a husky whisper. Your hands slid down his chest, fingers toying with the hem of his shirt.

"I want to touch you," he breathed, his voice barely audible over the pounding of his heart. "I want to see you" He swallowed hard, forcing himself to meet your gaze. "I want you."

He watched as your eyes searched his face, saw the moment understanding dawned. A slow, seductive smile spread across your lips, and your fingers tightened on his shirt. "Then show me what you want." you whispered, your voice low and sultry.

Argenti's breath caught, his body responding instantly to your words. Emboldened, he reached for you, his hands finding the hem of your shirt. Slowly, he lifted it, revealing inch after inch of smooth, warm skin. He drank in the sight of you, committing every curve and dip to memory.

When the shirt fell away, he leaned in, pressing his lips to the hollow of your throat. You tilted your head back, a soft moan escaping your lips as his mouth moved lower, trailing kisses along your collarbone. His hands roamed your sides, thumbs brushing the undersides of your breasts through the thin fabric of your bra.

He could feel your heart racing beneath his touch, could hear the hitch in your breath as his fingers found the clasp of your bra. With a deft movement, he unhooked it, letting the garment fall away. His eyes darkened as he took in the sight of you, naked from the waist up, your breasts full and perfect.

Unable to resist, he cupped one in his palm, marvelling at the feel of it, the softness. He thumbed your nipple, watching it pebble under his touch. Your breath hitched, and you arched into him, wordlessly encouraging him.

He took the hardened nipple into his mouth, swirling his tongue around it. Your fingers tangled in his hair, holding him close as he lavished attention on your breasts, alternating between gentle sucking and teasing nips.

Your skin was hot beneath his hands, your body pliant and responsive. He could feel the heat building between your legs, could sense your arousal growing with each passing moment. It spurred him on, fuelled his own desire.

“Let me-” you whispered, wanting to help him out, noticing his obvious bulge.

Argenti's breath hitched as your hands moved to his belt, your fingers deftly working to undo the buckle. He watched, transfixed, as you slowly unzipped his jeans, your knuckles brushing against his straining erection.

He swallowed hard, his hips twitching involuntarily at the contact. "I want to make you feel good too," he managed to say, his voice rough with need.

You smiled, a wicked gleam in your eyes. "Patience," you purred, pushing his jeans and boxers down. His cock sprang free, hard and thick, the tip already glistening with pre-cum.

You wrapped your hand around him, stroking slowly from base to tip. Argenti groaned, his head falling back as pleasure coursed through him. "Fuck," he gasped, his hips bucking into your touch.

You increased your pace, your grip firm but gentle. Your other hand cupped his balls, rolling them in your palm. "It’s pretty" you murmured, your breath hot against his ear.

Argenti's heart raced as your hand worked him over, pleasure sparking through his veins with each stroke. His cock throbbed in your grip, the sensation almost too intense to bear.

"Your hand—it feels incredible," he panted, his voice strained with need.

You smiled, clearly enjoying the effect you were having on him. Your thumb swiped over the sensitive head, smearing the bead of pre-cum that had gathered there. You lowered your head, your tongue darting out to lick a long stripe up his shaft. Argenti's breath caught, his hips jerking forward involuntarily.

You took him into your mouth, your lips stretching around his girth. Your tongue swirled around him as you bobbed your head, taking him deeper with each descent. The wet heat of your mouth was exquisite, driving Argenti wild with pleasure. His fingers tangled in your hair, gripping tightly as he fought the urge to thrust into you.

You hummed around him, the vibrations sending shockwaves of pleasure through his body.

Argenti's grip on your hair tightened as you took him deeper, your throat constricting around his throbbing cock. The sensation was indescribable, unlike anything he'd ever felt before. Pleasure built at the base of his spine, coiling tighter and tighter with each pass of your tongue.

He could feel his orgasm approaching, the tightening of his muscles. But he didn't want this to end, not yet. He wanted to savour every moment, every sensation.

He quickly pulled you off him, his cock slipping from your lips with a wet pop. You looked up at him, your lips swollen, your eyes heavy-lidded with desire.

"I need to be inside you," he rasped, his voice rough with need. "I want to feel you around me when I come."

You chuckle at his neediness as you lean across your bed, grabbing a condom from your drawer.

Argenti's eyes widened as you retrieved a condom from your drawer, a mix of anticipation and nerves fluttering in his stomach. He watched as you tore open the packet and then rolled the condom onto his cock, your fingers brushing against his sensitive skin, making him shudder.

Once the condom was in place, you turned around, giving Argenti a tantalising view of your ass as you bent over slightly. You hooked your thumbs into the waistband of your panties and slowly slid them down your legs, revealing your pussy to him.

Argenti's mouth went dry at the sight, his cock twitching with renewed interest. He stepped forward, his hands coming to rest on your hips as he pressed himself against you. He could feel the heat radiating off your skin.

Argenti's hands trembled slightly as he positioned himself at your entrance, the head of his condom-sheathed cock nudging against your slick folds. He could feel the heat emanating from your core, beckoning him to plunge inside.

"I've never done this before," he admitted softly, his voice tinged with a mix of nervousness and excitement. "I want to do it right. I want to make you feel good."

You glanced back at him over your shoulder, a reassuring smile on your lips. "Just go slow," you murmured, reaching back to guide him forward. "And don't worry about doing it perfectly. Just focus on how it feels."

Argenti nodded, taking a deep breath as he began to push forward. The sensation was unlike anything he'd ever experienced - the tight heat of your pussy enveloping him, drawing him deeper. He groaned, his eyes fluttering shut as he savoured the feeling. Inch by inch, he sank into you, until he was buried to the hilt.

Argenti bit down on his lip, fighting the urge to come right then and there. The sensation of being inside you was overwhelming, your tight heat gripping him like a vice. He could feel every flutter of your walls around his cock, every pulse of your arousal.

"Shit-” he gasped, his hips twitching involuntarily.

He forced himself to take a deep breath, trying to regain some semblance of control. He wanted this to last, wanted to make it good for you.

Slowly, carefully, he began to move, pulling out until just the tip remained inside before sliding back in. He set a steady rhythm, rocking into you with deep, measured strokes. Your moans filled the room, spurring him on. He could feel your body responding to his, your hips pushing back to meet his thrusts.

"Is this good?" he asked, his voice strained with the effort of holding back.

Your reassuring moans and the way your body moved against his told Argenti all he needed to know. He continued to thrust, gradually increasing his pace as he grew more confident.

The sound of skin slapping against skin filled the room, punctuated by your breathy gasps and his low groans. Sweat beaded on his brow as he lost himself in the sensation, in the feel of your body beneath his. He could feel his orgasm building, the pressure coiling tighter and tighter in his core. But he held back, determined to make sure you reached your peak first.

His hand slid around your hip, finding your clit. He rubbed in slow circles, matching the rhythm of his thrusts. Argenti's fingers worked your clit in time with his thrusts, the dual stimulation driving you closer to the edge. He could feel your body tensing, your walls fluttering around him as your pleasure mounted.

"That's it," he encouraged, his voice low and rough. "Come for me. Let me feel you."

Your moans grew louder, more urgent, and Argenti knew you were close. He redoubled his efforts, thrusting harder, faster, his fingers circling your clit with increasing pressure.

Suddenly, your back arched, your head thrown back in ecstasy as your orgasm crashed over you. Your pussy clenched around him, rippling along his cock, and Argenti groaned, the sensation pushing him over the brink.

With a final, deep thrust, he buried himself inside you, his cock pulsing as he came hard. Wave after wave of pleasure washed over him, his vision whiting out as he rode out the intensity of his release.

For a long moment, neither of you moved, both lost in the aftermath of your shared climax. Finally, Argenti slipped out of you, disposing of the condom before collapsing beside you on the bed. He turned his head to look at you, a lazy smile on his lips.

Argenti's heart swelled at the gentle press of your lips against his forehead. The simple, tender gesture spoke volumes, conveying a depth of care and affection that he'd never experienced before.

He reached up, his hand cupping your cheek as he pulled you down for a soft, lingering kiss. It was different from the heated passion of before, this kiss. It was sweet, almost chaste, a physical manifestation of the connection growing between you.

When you pulled away, he gazed into your eyes, his own shining with a mix of contentment and wonder.

“You’re a natural.” you joke with a soft laugh as you wrap your arms around him.

Argenti chuckled, the sound deep and rich as he rested his head against your chest. "I think I'm a quick learner."

༉ - 2.5k

The casino floor was alive with energy, especially  at your table. You and Aventurine had been on a streak for so long it was starting to turn heads. Chips piled up in neat stacks in front of you both, the gleam of gold and the scent of success making the night feel almost unreal.

“Another win,” Aventurine announced casually as the dealer slid another stack his way. His eyes sparkled with mischief as he leaned back in his chair, the picture of effortless cool. “But let’s be real here. This run? It’s all because of me. Clearly, I’m your lucky charm.”

You scoffed, crossing your arms as you gave him an incredulous look. “You’re my lucky charm? I think you’ve got that backwards. If anything, you should be thanking me.”

He chuckled, leaning forward to rest his elbows on the table. “Oh, is that how it is? Because from where I’m sitting, it looks like I’ve been carrying this team all night.”

You raised an eyebrow, a smirk tugging at your lips. “Carrying? Please. I’m pretty sure the only thing you’ve carried is that overinflated ego of yours.”

Aventurine laughed, a low, warm sound that sent a pleasant thrill up your spine. He tilted his head, his gaze locking with yours in a way that made your pulse quicken. “You talk a big game for someone who wouldn’t be winning without me. Admit it—you’re having fun because I’m here.”

You leaned in closer, matching his energy. “Oh, absolutely,” you said, voice dripping with mock sincerity. “It’s so much fun watching you pretend you’re the reason we’re winning when we both know who’s really the lucky one here.”

His eyes narrowed slightly, the playful challenge in them unmistakable. “Careful, or I might start thinking you actually like having me around.”

You grinned, tapping a finger on the table. “What can I say? You’re entertaining, like a fancy slot machine with nice hair.”

Aventurine barked a laugh, his shoulders shaking. “A slot machine? That’s the best you’ve got?” He leaned even closer, an amused smile tugging at his lips. “You’ve got some nerve.”

“And you love it,” you said with a wink, surprising even yourself with the boldness of your words.

Aventurine’s grin widened, his eyes glinting as he tilted his head slightly. “You know what? You might be right. Guess I’ve got a weakness for confident types.”

The air between you shifted, the playful banter taking on a sharper edge. You refused to back down, instead, you leaned in, your faces just inches apart now.

“Careful, Aventurine,” you said, your voice soft but laced with teasing. “If you keep flirting like that, I might start thinking you’re not just here for the gambling.”

His gaze flicked to your lips for just a fraction of a second before returning to your eyes, his smirk now decidedly more dangerous. “Maybe I’m not.”

The tension between you and Aventurine was electric, the noise of the casino fading into a distant hum. His smirk deepened, eyes gleaming with mischief and something more daring. Slowly, deliberately, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a sleek, metallic keycard.

He twirled it between his fingers like it was a chip, the move impossibly smooth. “You’re good at reading between the lines,” he said, his voice low and inviting. “Think you can figure out what this means?”

Your gaze flicked to the keycard, then back to his face, your heart pounding as your brain scrambled for a witty retort. “Oh, I don’t know,” you teased, raising an eyebrow. “Looks like you’re trying to skip ahead in the game. Aren’t you supposed to take me out to dinner first?”

Aventurine chuckled, the sound rumbling and warm. He slid the card across the table, stopping it just in front of your hand.

You picked up the card slowly, holding it between your fingers as if weighing your options. “What’s the catch?”

“No catch,” he said smoothly, leaning back with a confidence that was infuriatingly attractive. “Unless you count spending more time with me. But if that’s too much of a gamble, I’d understand.”

He collected his chips as he stood up, leaving the table, “Don’t keep me waiting too long. Wouldn’t want that luck to run out, now would we?”

You couldn’t help the grin that spread across your face as you stood, slipping the card into your pocket. “Not a chance.”

—

You locate the room number on the keycard and slide it into the lock. The door swings open to reveal a spacious suite, all sleek lines and modern decor, with floor-to-ceiling windows offering a breathtaking view of the city lights below.

Aventurine is leaning against the wall by the window, a glass of amber liquid in his hand. He turns as you enter, his eyes glinting in the dim light.

"I wasn't sure if you'd actually show," he says, his voice a low purr. "But I'm glad you did."

You close the door behind you, turning to face him fully. "And miss an opportunity like this? Not a chance."

He pushes off the wall, closing the distance between you with a few easy strides. "Opportunity for what, exactly?" he asks, his gaze roaming over your features with an intensity that sends shivers down your spine.

You meet his eyes boldly, refusing to be intimidated. "For whatever you have planned," you say, your voice steady despite the rapid beating of your heart.

Aventurine's lips curve into a smirk, his hand reaching out to trace the line of your jaw with a feather-light touch. "Careful what you wish for," he murmurs, his breath ghosting over your skin. "You might just get it."

Your pulse races at his touch, desire and anticipation coiling tightly in your belly. "Promises, promises," you breathe, tilting your head into his palm.

His answering chuckle is dark and full of promise. "Oh, I always keep my promises," he says, his thumb brushing over your lower lip.

And then his lips are on yours, hot and demanding, and you're lost in the taste and feel of him, the world falling away until there's nothing but the two of you, caught up in a dance.

You melt into the kiss, your hands coming up to tangle in Aventurine's hair, pulling him closer as you press your body against his. He responds eagerly, his arms wrapping around your waist as he deepens the kiss, his tongue delving into your mouth to tangle with yours.

He tastes of whiskey and sin, and you can't get enough. Your fingers slip under the hem of his shirt, feeling the hard planes of his chest beneath your palms. He groans into your mouth, his hips pressing forward to grind against you, letting you feel the evidence of his arousal.

"Bedroom," he rasps against your lips, his voice rough with desire.

You nod, breathless and wanting, allowing him to lead you towards the bedroom. He kicks the door shut behind you, then spins you around, pinning you against it with his body. His hands are everywhere, slipping under your clothes to stroke heated skin, his mouth trailing fire along your neck.

"You're so fucking sexy," he growls, nipping at your earlobe. "I've wanted this since the moment I saw you."

Your breath hitches as Aventurine's hands roam your body, his touch setting your skin ablaze with desire. You arch into him, craving more, needing to feel every inch of him against you.

He groans, low and primal, his hips grinding harder against yours. His hands slip under your shirt, pushing it up and off, leaving you bare from the waist up. He takes a moment to admire you, his eyes dark with lust.

"Fuck, you're perfect," he murmurs, his fingers tracing the curves of your breasts. He leans down, his mouth hot against your skin as he kisses a trail down your sternum, his tongue flicking out to tease your nipple.

You gasp, your fingers tangling in his hair, holding him close. "Please," you whimper, not even sure what you're begging for, only knowing that you need more, need him.

He chuckles, the vibration sending sparks of pleasure through you. "Patience, love," he purrs, his hands sliding down to pop the button of your jeans. "We've got all night."

And then he's on his knees in front of you. He looks up at you through his lashes, his eyes hooded and full of promise.

"Let me taste you," he murmurs, his fingers hooking in the waistband of your jeans.

You nod mutely, your heart pounding in your chest as Aventurine slowly slides your jeans down your legs, his hands caressing your skin as he goes. He tosses them aside carelessly, leaving you in nothing but your panties, which are already damp with arousal.

He leans forward, his breath hot against your panties. "You're so wet for me already," he murmurs, his fingers tracing the damp spot. "I've barely touched you, and you're dripping."

You squirm under his touch, desperate for more. "Please," you whimper, your hands fisting in his hair. "I need..."

"Shh," he soothes, placing a kiss over your clothed pussy, licking a stripe along your covered slit. "I know what you need. Just relax and let me take care of you."

And then he's pulling your panties aside, his fingers stroking through your slick folds. You gasp, your hips bucking into his touch. He chuckles, the sound vibrating against your skin.

"So responsive," he praises, circling your clit with the pad of his thumb. "I can't wait to taste you."

And then his mouth is on you, his tongue delving between your folds, lapping at your essence. You cry out, your head falling back against the door as waves of pleasure crash over you.

He works you skilfully, his tongue alternating between broad strokes and targeted flicks against your clit. His fingers join in, pumping in and out of you, curling to hit that spot inside that makes you see stars.

Your legs tremble as Aventurine's skilled mouth works you over, his tongue delving deep, lapping at your essence. The pleasure builds, coiling tighter and tighter in your core, threatening to snap at any moment.

"Aventurine," you gasp, your fingers tightening in his hair, pressing his face harder against your aching pussy. "I'm... I'm going to-"

He moans in response, the vibrations sending you hurtling over the edge. Your orgasm crashes over you, your vision whiting out as ecstasy consumes you. You grind against his face, riding out the waves of pleasure, his name a broken cry on your lips.

He doesn't stop, prolonging your climax, his fingers and tongue working in tandem to wring every last drop of pleasure from your body. Finally, you collapse back against the door, boneless and sated, your chest heaving as you try to catch your breath.

Aventurine rises, his face glistening with your arousal. He licks his lips, his eyes dark with hunger. "So sweet," he purrs, his voice rough. "I could do that forever.”

You can only moan in response, your body still thrumming with aftershocks. He leans in, capturing your lips in a searing kiss, letting you taste yourself on his tongue.

He takes your hand, leading you to the bed, pushing you down onto the plush mattress. He crawls over you, his body covering yours, his weight pressing you into the sheets.

"I need to be inside you," he growls, his hips grinding against yours, letting you feel the hard length of him through his pants. "I need to feel you wrapped around me, squeezing me.”

You reach down, fumbling with the button of his pants, desperate to free his cock. He helps you, shoving his pants and boxers down just enough to spring free, his erection bobbing against your stomach.

"Please," you whimper, wrapping your hand around him, stroking the velvety soft skin. "I need you, too. I need to feel you stretch me, fill me."

He groans, his hips thrusting into your hand. "Fuck, you're killing me," he pants, reaching down to position himself at your entrance.

With a single, powerful thrust, Aventurine pushes his cock all the way inside you, filling you completely. You cry out, your back arching off the bed as your body struggles to adjust to his size. He stills, giving you a moment to acclimate, his forehead resting against yours.

"Breathe," he murmurs, his hips flexing slightly, sending sparks of pleasure through you. "Just breathe, love. I've got you."

You take a shuddering breath, your inner walls fluttering around him. Slowly, you begin to move, rocking your hips against his, urging him deeper. He groans, his hands gripping your hips as he starts to thrust, setting a slow, deep rhythm.

"You feel incredible," he pants, his lips brushing against your ear. "I could stay buried inside you forever and die happy."

You clench around him, relishing the feel of him stretching you, filling you. "More," you demand, your nails digging into his back.

He laughs breathlessly, complying with your request, his hips snapping against yours with increased force. The bed creaks beneath you, the headboard slamming against the wall with each powerful thrust.

Aventurine's thrusts grow more erratic, his breath coming in short, sharp pants as he nears his peak. His hands grip your hips bruisingly, holding you in place as he pounds into you, the force of his thrusts pushing you up the bed.

"Come with me," he demands, his voice a guttural growl. "I want to feel you come undone around my cock."

Your body tenses, your inner walls fluttering around him as your orgasm approaches. With a final, deep thrust, he buries himself to the hilt, his cock pulsing as he finds his release.

The feel of him coming inside you is enough to push you over the edge. You cry out, your body convulsing as wave after wave of pleasure crashes over you. He follows you, his hips jerking as he spills his cum deep within you.

You collapse back against the bed, your chest heaving as you try to catch your breath. Aventurine follows suit, laying down beside you. He leans over peppering your face with soft kisses, his hands stroking your hair, your back, your sides. "You’re beautiful" he murmurs, his voice soft with satisfaction.

You smile, turning your head to capture his lips in a tender kiss. "You're not so bad yourself," you tease, your fingers tracing idle patterns on his sweat-slicked skin.

He chuckles, the sound rumbling through his chest and into yours. "I aim to please," he says, his eyes sparkling with mischief. "And I'm not done with you yet, love. Not by a long shot."

You shiver at the promise in his words, your body already stirring with renewed desire. "Is that so?" you ask, arching an eyebrow. "And what exactly did you have in mind?" 

His grin is wicked, his eyes gleaming in the low light. "Oh, I think you'll find out soon enough.”

༉ - 2.8k

Topaz’s flat was warm and inviting, the perfect spot to unwind for a casual evening. Soft amber light spilled across the room, casting a cosy glow  that made the space feel like home. Somewhere in the background, faint music played  that blended perfectly with the gentle clinking of glasses and low chatter.

“We’ll be right back,” Aventurine called out, with Topaz trailing close behind as they disappeared toward the kitchen.

You had settled comfortably into the corner of the sofa, a glass of wine in hand and Veritas lounging beside you. Tonight, he seemed different—relaxed in a way you rarely saw. His shirt was unbuttoned, his tie discarded, and his usually immaculate hair slightly mussed, as though he’d finally let the weight of the day slip away.

The air between you buzzed with the kind of easy familiarity that only came with years of friendship, though tonight there was something else–.

“Another top-up?” Veritas asked, his voice smoother and slower than usual as he reached for the wine bottle on the low table. Without waiting for an answer, he topped off your glass and then poured more into his own.

“You’re a terrible influence,” you teased, though you made no move to stop him. “If I wake up with a headache tomorrow, I’m blaming you.”

He smirked, swirling his wine with an air of mock innocence. “I’d argue it’s your fault for being such agreeable company.”

The words lingered, their meaning sharper than his usual dry humour. You glanced down at your glass, suddenly unsure what to say. Was it the wine, or was there something more in his tone tonight?

“Quiet now, are we?” he teased, leaning in just slightly. “You’re usually quicker with a retort.”

You rolled your eyes, though you couldn’t help but smile. “Just giving you a moment to bask in your supposed wit.”

His chuckle was low and warm, the kind of sound that settled somewhere deep in your chest. His knee grazed yours, a light touch that didn’t feel accidental. When you shifted slightly, his arm brushed against yours and lingered, just enough to make you wonder if he’d noticed it too.

“I’ve always admired that about you,” he said, his voice quieter now.

“Admired what?” you asked, your pulse quickening.

“You have this way of making even the most tedious conversations feel alive.” His eyes softened, and for a moment, he wasn’t the sharp, collected man you knew so well. “Though I don’t think this moment qualifies as tedious, does it?”

You shook your head, your voice barely above a whisper. “No. It doesn’t.”

Neither of you moved for a moment. His hand found yours, his fingers warm and steady, and though the gesture caught you off guard, you didn’t pull away. His thumb traced slow circles over your skin, sending a rush of heat up your arm.

“Veritas—” you began, but your voice faltered.

“Too much?” he asked gently, his brows drawing together, as if he was ready to let go at the slightest hint of hesitation.

“No,” you said quickly, shaking your head. “Not too much.”

His shoulders relaxed, and the faintest trace of a smile appeared on his lips. He shifted closer, his arm sliding along the back of the sofa until his fingers brushed your shoulder. The scent of his cologne—something crisp with a faint warmth beneath it—lingered in the space between you, making your head swim.

The world beyond the sofa seemed to fade. His presence filled the room, his thumb still tracing light, deliberate circles on your hand. When his fingers grazed your neck, their touch feather-light, you couldn’t help the shiver that ran through you.

“You’ve gone quiet again,” he murmured, his tone both teasing and earnest. “Should I be worried?”

You turned to face him, and suddenly his face was so close to yours. His gaze locked onto yours, and your breath hitched. It felt impossible to look away.

“Not worried,” you managed softly. “Just… thinking.”

“Dangerous,” he quipped, though his voice held less humour now. His hand shifted, brushing along the curve of your jaw. His touch was barely there, yet it lit up every nerve. “Care to share?”

You hesitated, not because you didn’t know what to say, but because the words carried weight. “I was thinking,” you said slowly, your voice steady despite the pounding of your heart, “that you don’t seem as restrained as usual tonight.”

A flicker of something—surprise, maybe—passed across his face before he smirked. But it wasn’t his usual teasing smirk; it was softer, quieter, like he didn’t want to scare the moment away. “Restraint,” he murmured, “has its time and place. And this… doesn’t feel like one of them.”

The charged silence between you was almost unbearable. Slowly, he leaned in, giving you plenty of time to stop him, but you didn’t.

When his lips finally met yours, the kiss was gentle and tentative, like he was testing the waters. It was fleeting, yet it left your heart racing. His hand slipped to your jaw, steady and warm as he kissed you again, this time with more certainty.

You melted into him, your hands coming to rest against his chest. His heartbeat was fast beneath your palms, and when he finally pulled back, his forehead rested against yours.

“We should…” His voice was rough now, laced with restraint. “Move somewhere more private.”

Your heart jumped at the suggestion, and you nodded, your voice barely audible. “Yeah.”

He stood smoothly, his hand slipping into yours as he cast a quick glance toward the kitchen. When he was sure your friends were still out of sight, he guided you down the hallway. His touch was firm, grounding, but there was a tenderness in the way his thumb brushed over your knuckles.

At the end of the hall, he paused outside a closed door. His free hand found the handle, turning it slowly. The hinge creaked softly as he pushed the door open, revealing the spare bedroom. He guided you inside, closing the door behind you with a soft click. The room was small but cosy, with a large window that let in a silver glow.

Veritas turned to face you, his expression a blend of uncertainty and desire. "Are you sure about this?" he asked, his voice low and husky. "We can stop if you want to."

His words were sincere, giving you an out if you needed it. But the way his eyes roamed over your face, the way his fingers tightened ever so slightly around yours, betrayed his own longing.

You took a step closer, closing the distance between you. "I'm sure," you whispered, reaching up to cup his cheek. His skin was warm beneath your palm, and you marvelled at the softness of his stubble against your fingers.

He leaned into your touch, his eyes fluttering closed for a brief moment. When he opened them again, they were dark with want.

He captured your mouth in a searing kiss. It was nothing like the tentative brush of lips from earlier. This time, there was no holding back. His arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you flush against him. You could feel the heat of his body through your clothes, the firmness of his muscles.

You responded eagerly, your hands tangling in his hair as you deepened the kiss. He tasted of wine and something uniquely him - a flavour you knew you'd crave forever. His tongue teased your lower lip before delving into your mouth, exploring and claiming with a passion that left you breathless.

Slowly, he walked you backwards until your legs hit the edge of the bed. He broke the kiss, his breathing ragged as he looked down at you. "Tell me you want this," he breathed, his hands settling on your hips. "Tell me you need me as much as I need you."

The words were a plea, a confession. In this moment, the usually composed and controlled Veritas Ratio was laid bare before you, vulnerable and wanting. Your heart swelled with affection and desire.

"I want this," you whispered, your hands sliding up his chest to link behind his neck. "I need you. Please, Veritas..."

His name on your lips seemed to break the last of his restraint. With a groan, he kissed you again, his hands slipping under your shirt to caress the bare skin of your back.

It wasn’t long before Veritas' fingers deftly worked at the zipper on his trousers, his movements quick yet precise, revealing the bulge straining against his underwear. With a deft tug, he freed his cock, the hard length springing forth, already flushed and throbbing with need.

He stepped back slightly, giving you a moment to take in the sight of him. Moonlight spilled across his body, highlighting the contours of his muscles, the defined lines of his abs. His cock was long, with a prominent vein on the underside.

You wasted no time, sinking to your knees before him. The plush carpet cushioned your knees, but you barely noticed. His cock jutted out, hard and proud, the tip glistening with pre-cum in the moonlight.

Your hands trembled slightly as you reached for him, fingers wrapping around the base of his shaft. He was hot and heavy in your grasp, the skin velvety soft over the rigid flesh beneath. You stroked him slowly, savouring the weight of him, the way he twitched and throbbed against your palm.

Veritas groaned, his head falling back as he savoured your touch. "God," he breathed, his voice thick with desire. "Feels so good-”

His words sent a shiver down your spine, stoking the fire building in your core. You leaned forward, pressing a soft kiss to the tip of his cock. The taste of him exploded across your tongue, salty and musky, uniquely him.

Emboldened, you took him into your mouth, your lips stretching around his girth. He was big, filling your mouth completely, but you revelled in it. You hollowed your cheeks, sucking him deeper, your tongue swirling around the sensitive head.

"Fuck," Veritas gasped, his fingers tangling in your hair. "Just like that, baby. Take me deeper."

You obeyed, relaxing your throat as you pushed forward, taking him inch by inch until he hit the back of your throat. The sensation was intense, overwhelming, but you didn't pull away. Instead, you held him there, your nose pressed against his pelvis, breathing in his scent.

Veritas’ grip on your hair tightened, his hips rocking forward slightly. "God, sweetheart," he moaned, his voice strained. "You're incredible."

The praise washed over you, spurring you on. You bobbed your head, setting a steady rhythm as you worked him with your mouth. Your hands slid down to cup his balls, rolling them gently in your palm.

Veritas' hand cupped the back of your head, his fingers tangling in your hair as he guided you further down his shaft. "That's it, baby," he groaned, his voice rough with pleasure. "Take all of me."

You complied eagerly, relaxing your throat as you pushed forward until your nose nestled against his pelvis. The scent of him filled your senses, musky and intoxicating. You held him there, savouring the weight of him on your tongue, the way he throbbed against your palate.

"God, beautiful-" Veritas gasped, his hips rocking forward slightly. "You're so good at this. So fucking perfect."

His words sent a thrill through you, stoking the heat building in your core. You pulled back slowly, letting him slide from your mouth with a lewd pop. Strings of saliva connected your lips to his cock, glistening in the moonlight.

"Touch yourself," he commanded, his voice low and authoritative. "I want to see you get off while you suck my cock."

Your cheeks flushed at his words, but you didn't hesitate. Your hand slid beneath your skirt. You were already soaked, your panties clinging to your skin.

You circled your clit with your fingertip, gasping at the jolt of pleasure that shot through you. Ratio watched with hooded eyes, his cock twitching in your grip.

"That's it, baby," he urged, his hand guiding your head as you took him back into your mouth. "Make yourself feel good. I want to hear you moan around my cock."

You obeyed, increasing the pressure of your fingers as you sucked him deeper. Your other hand came up to fondle his balls, rolling them gently in your palm. The combined sensations were overwhelming, pushing you closer to the edge with each passing second.

Veritas’ breath came in short, sharp gasps as you worked him with your mouth and hands. His cock throbbed against your tongue, the veins along the shaft pulsing with need. You could tell he was getting close, his hips rocking faster, his grip on your hair tightening.

Suddenly, he pulled you off him, his cock slipping from your lips with a wet pop. "As much as I love your mouth," he panted, his eyes dark with lust, "I need to be inside you."

You nodded eagerly, your heart racing at the thought. He helped you to your feet, his hands roaming over your curves appreciatively. With a swift motion, he pushed your skirt up around your waist and tugged your panties down your thighs.

Veritas gently pushed you back onto the bed, his eyes roaming over your body with undisguised hunger. "Always been so pretty" he murmured, his hands skimming up your thighs to your hips.

He settled between your legs, the heat of his body seeping into your skin. You could feel his cock pressing against your entrance, teasing you with the promise of what was to come. Slowly, he pushed forward, stretching you open around him.

You gasped at the sensation, your back arching off the bed. He was so big, filling you completely. He gave you a moment to adjust before starting to move, his hips rocking in a steady rhythm.

"God, you feel amazing," he groaned, his head dropping to your shoulder.

His words sent shivers down your spine, stoking the fire building in your core. You wrapped your legs around his waist, urging him deeper. He obliged, his thrusts growing harder, faster.

The bed creaked beneath you, the headboard slamming against the wall with each powerful stroke. Veritas' hands gripped your hips, his fingers leaving bruises on your skin. But you didn't mind the pain, not when pleasure was coursing through your veins like liquid fire.

Despite the intense sensations coursing through your body, you bit your lip, muffling your moans and gasps. The thought of Aventurine and Topaz hearing you in the other room was enough to keep you silent, even as Veritas’ thrusts grew harder, deeper.

He seemed to sense your restraint, his eyes locking with yours in the darkness. "Don't hold back," he whispered, his voice husky with desire. "I want to hear you.”

You shook your head, your fingers digging into his shoulders. You couldn't risk it, couldn't bear the thought of your friends walking in and catching you in such a compromising position.

Veritas frowned slightly, but he didn't push the issue. Instead, he leaned down, capturing your lips in a searing kiss. His tongue delved into your mouth, swallowing your silent cries of pleasure.

His hips never stopped moving, each thrust sending shockwaves of ecstasy through your body. You could feel your climax building, getting closer to the edge. He seemed to sense it too, his pace quickening, his breath coming in harsh pants against your ear.

"Come for me, sweetheart," he growled, his teeth grazing your earlobe. "Let go. I've got you."

His words were your undoing. With a muffled cry, you came undone, your body convulsing beneath him as you gushed around his cock. Veritas quickly pulled out, his cum shooting out and splattering on your folds.

You lay there in the aftermath, your chest heaving, your limbs trembling. He  collapsed on top of you, his weight a welcome comfort.

Slowly he rolled off you, his chest heaving as he tried to catch his breath. He pulled you close, your back pressed against his chest, his arms wrapped around your waist. You could feel his heart racing, matching the pounding of your own.

He kissed your shoulder softly. "We should probably get cleaned up and head back out there," he said, his voice tinged with reluctance. "Before Aventurine and Topaz come looking for us."

You nodded, leaning in to kiss him one last time before reluctantly pulling away from his warmth.

༉ - 2.5k

The training grounds hummed with the steady rhythm of swords meeting swords, the sharp ring of steel echoing in the air. You were lost in the rhythm, your every move precise as you worked through the drills Jing Yuan had set for you.

The weight of the training session was starting to catch up with you—your muscles burning, sweat trickling down your back—but you refused to stop. His gaze was always on you, but today, there was something about it that made your heart race a little.

Jing Yuan was a study in effortless grace, each movement fluid and controlled as he parried your strikes. His hair shimmered in the sunlight. His composure was unmatched—he never seemed to break a sweat, even when you were struggling to keep up. And yet, his every motion felt like a reminder that you still had so much to learn.

“You’re improving,” he said suddenly, his voice a smooth, unwavering contrast to the intensity of the training. He dodged your strike so easily it was as if he already knew it was coming. “But you’re still too tense. Stop thinking so much- Let your instincts take over.”

You nodded, trying to focus on his words. You couldn’t quite explain it, but his praise always felt so... personal. It was like he wasn’t just teaching you how to fight; he was seeing something deeper. And you hated how giddy that made you feel.

The practice continued, but with each passing moment, it became harder to focus. Every glance he gave you seemed to leave you a little more flustered, his every compliment a spark that made your heart flutter. You tried to shake it off, to stay in the moment, but your movements became a little less fluid.

“That’s better,” he said again, his eyes narrowing as he watched you catch your breath. “You have the power. You just need to learn to channel it.”

“Thanks,” you muttered, trying to ignore the warmth spreading across your skin. It wasn’t that you weren’t good at sword fighting, but when Jing Yuan spoke to you like that, it felt different. His words were a quiet evaluation, but they made your heart feel exposed, as though he was seeing right through you.

Minutes blended together in a haze of quick movements and hurting muscles. The sweat on your forehead trickled, and you could feel the strain in your arms and legs, but you pushed yourself harder, determined not to disappoint him. Finally, when the session was over, you dropped your sword, your breathing heavy.

"That's enough for today," Jing Yuan said, his voice quiet yet imperative as he stepped toward you. His eyes roamed over you, taking in the fatigue in your eyes, the way you were trying to steady your breathing. "You have worked hard.

You managed a small smile, though the weight of the session left you feeling drained. "I'm fine," you said, though the slight tremor in your voice betrayed you. You weren't sure if you were convincing anyone, least of all him.

He studied you a moment longer, his sharp eyes picking up the subtle signs: the way you were holding your breath, the way your hands trembled ever so slightly. With a soft sigh, he leaned in closer, his hand resting lightly on your shoulder. The touch was light, but it sent a ripple of warmth through you, and you couldn't quite keep the flutter from your chest.

"Let me check you over-" he said, his voice dropping an octave soft yet purposeful. "make sure you're not hurt."

The words should’ve been routine, should’ve been just another part of the training, but the closeness between you, the way his gaze lingered a little longer than usual, made everything feel different. His touch was so careful as he ran his hands over your arms, your shoulders, your ribs—light and methodical, almost as if he were memorising every detail of you. Each brush of his fingers sent sparks through your skin, and you had to force yourself to breathe normally.

“Does this hurt?” His fingers pressed against a sore spot near your ribs where you'd taken a hit earlier.

You gasped softly, the breath catching in your throat, before shaking your head. "It's a little sore.

His eyes softened, a glint of concern in them as he regarded you, yet there was something else, too-something more than mere mentorship. The air between you grew thick with unspoken tension, not exactly teacher and student, but something else entirely. His presence overwhelmed you; the way he watched you-also so intense-made it even harder to think clearly.

Before you could catch yourself, your fingers grazed his chest-just the lightest touch, but it felt like an electric jolt went through you. The space between you contracted, and the pull you'd been fighting became too much. Before you could talk yourself out of it, you were leaning in, your lips brushing against his in a fleeting, impulsive kiss.

The world seemed to stop for that second, and then Jing Yuan froze. His body stiffened, and for a second you thought you'd made a terrible mistake. But when he pulled back, his expression wasn't anger or confusion-it was soft, searching. His gaze lingered on your face, as if he were trying to understand the emotions swirling there.

You stepped backward in haste, heat flooding your face as you muttered, "I- I didn't mean-"

But before you could get the words out, his hand was cupping your cheek, his touch warm and comforting. His thumb stroked your skin with soft gentleness-a motion that made your heart thud. "Don't apologise," he said, his voice soft, low-assuring. "You don't have to be sorry."

The air between you seemed to thicken with the weight of the moment. Jing Yuan leaned in just slightly, giving you space to pull away if you wanted to, but you didn’t. You stood there, your heart racing in your chest, the tension building with each breath you took.

“I think…” he began, his voice a little quieter, “you’re not the only one who’s been holding back.”

Your breath caught in your throat. That was all he needed to say, and in that moment, the world around you seemed to fall away. The spark between you wasn’t one-sided. And maybe this was the beginning of something neither of you had expected.

Slowly, hesitantly, you reached up to cover his hand with your own, pressing it more firmly against your cheek. "Then what’s stopping us?" you whispered, your voice barely audible.

Jing Yuan's eyes darkened at your words, a flash of hunger in their depths. He leaned in closer, his lips hovering just inches from yours. "Are you sure?" he asked, his voice rough with desire.

You nodded, your eyes locked on his, unable to look away. "I've never been more sure of anything in my life."

With those words, Jing Yuan closed the distance between you, his lips crashing against yours in a passionate, desperate kiss. His arm wrapped around your waist, pulling you flush against him as he deepened the kiss, his tongue delving into your mouth to taste you.

You melted into him, your arms winding around his neck as you kissed him back with equal fervour. The world spun around you, your senses overwhelmed by the feel of his lips on yours, the scent of his skin, the sound of his ragged breathing.

You felt yourself being pulled into Jing Yuan's embrace, your bodies pressing together as the kiss deepened. His lips moved against yours with a hunger that made your head spin, his tongue exploring your mouth with a passion that left you breathless. Your fingers tangled in his hair, holding him close as you lost yourself in the sensation of his touch, his taste, his very essence.

Time seemed to stand still, the rest of the world fading away until there was nothing but the two of you, wrapped up in each other's arms. Jing Yuan's hands roamed over your back, your sides, his touch leaving trails of fire in its wake. You arched into him, craving more of his touch.

Jing Yuan broke the kiss, his breath coming in ragged gasps as he pulled back to look at you. His eyes were dark with desire, but there was a flicker of concern there too. "We should move somewhere more private," he murmured, his voice low and husky. "There are too many prying eyes here."

You nodded, your heart still racing as you glanced around the training grounds. He was right. Anyone could stumble upon you like this, could see the way you were clinging to each other, the way your lips were swollen from his kisses. The thought sent a thrill through you, even as it filled you with a sense of urgency.

Jing Yuan took your hand, his fingers intertwined with yours as he led you away from the training grounds. You followed him willingly, your steps quick and eager, your body still thrumming with the aftershocks of his touch. He led you through the winding paths of the gardens, past flowering bushes and babbling fountains, until you reached a secluded grove hidden behind a curtain of willow branches.

As soon as you were out of sight, Jing Yuan pulled you into his arms once more, his lips crashing against yours in a desperate, hungry kiss. You moaned into his mouth, your hands fisting in his hair as you kissed him back. His hands roamed over your body, slipping beneath your clothes to caress the heated skin beneath.

Your hands fumbled with the fastenings of Jing Yuan's robes, your fingers shaking with a mix of anticipation and nerves. He helped you, his own hands working to remove your clothing with a practised ease that belied his gentle touch. Soon, the fabric fell away, leaving you both bare in the dappled sunlight filtering through the willow branches.

Jing Yuan's eyes roamed over your body, his gaze appreciative as he drank in the sight of you. "You're beautiful," he breathed, his voice rough with desire. His hands skimmed over your curves, his touch leaving goosebumps in its wake.

Your fingers trailed over the hard planes of his chest, the defined muscles of his abdomen, marvelling at the feel of his skin beneath your palms.

Jing Yuan groaned at your touch, his hips pressing forward to grind against yours. You could feel his cock, hot and insistent against your stomach, and it sent a fresh wave of desire coursing through you. Your own body responded in kind, aching and throbbing with a need that was almost painful in its intensity.

His lips found your neck, his teeth nibbling, and tongue leaving a trail of hot, open-mouthed kisses along your pulse point. You tilted your head back, giving him better access, your fingers digging into his shoulders as you lost yourself in the sensation. His hands gripped your hips, pulling you harder against him, the friction delicious and maddening all at once.

"Jing Yuan," you gasped, your voice breathy and needy. "Please..."

His response was to lift you up, wrapping your legs around him as he carried you. Jing Yuan pressed you against the cool stone wall of the garden, his body pinning you in place as he captured your lips in a searing kiss. Your legs tightened around his waist, drawing him closer, craving more of his touch.

He held you up with one arm as the other delved lower, his fingers finding your pussy. You were already wet, your body ready for him, and he groaned at the feeling. "So ready for me," he murmured, his voice rough with desire. "So perfect."

His fingers circled your clit, teasing and stroking, sending waves of pleasure crashing through you. You rocked your hips against his hand, seeking more of that delicious friction. Jing Yuan obliged, his fingers sliding lower to dip inside you, stretching you, preparing you for what was to come.

You could feel him, hard and heavy, pressing against your entrance. The anticipation was almost too much to bear, your body trembling with need. "Please," you whimpered, your nails digging into his shoulders. "I need you."

Jing Yuan's eyes met yours, "I've got you," he promised, his voice low and husky. And with that, he pushed forward

Jing Yuan’s cock pushed inside you slowly, carefully, his eyes never leaving yours as he watched your face for any sign of discomfort. You could feel every inch of him as he stretched you, filled you, your body adjusting to his size. It was a delicious burn, a sweet ache that only made you want more.

"Dove," he breathed, the pet name a reverent whisper on his lips. His hips pressed forward, burying himself deeper inside you, and you couldn't hold back the moan that escaped. "So tight," he groaned, his hands gripping your hips for support. "So perfect."

You clung to him, meeting his thrusts. The pleasure was immense, overwhelming, and you could feel yourself already teetering on the edge of ecstasy. Jing Yuan's thrusts grew harder, faster, his breath coming in short, sharp gasps as he lost himself in the feel of you.

His thrusts grew more urgent, more demanding, as he lost himself in the heat of the moment. His hips slammed against yours, driving into you with a force that had you seeing stars. The sound of skin slapping against skin filled the air, mingling with your moans and his grunts of pleasure.

Jing Yuan's lips found yours again, swallowing your moans as he drove into you harder, deeper. His hand slid between your bodies, his fingers finding your clit and rubbing in tight, circular motions. The added stimulation was too much, and you shattered, your orgasm crashing over you in waves of pure, blinding ecstasy.

"Atta girl," Jing Yuan growled, his voice strained with his own impending release.

Your walls clenched around him, milking his length as you rode out the aftershocks of your climax. Jing Yuan followed soon after, his hips stuttering as he found his own release. He buried his face in the crook of your neck, his breath hot against your skin as he emptied himself inside you, ropes of cum spilling inside you.

As the final waves of your shared ecstasy subsided, Jing Yuan held you close, his body still intimately connected with yours. He peppered your face with soft, tender kisses, his hands gently stroking your hair and caressing your back. The intimacy of the moment was overwhelming, a stark contrast to the heated passion that had just consumed you both.

"Think that was a good training session" he joked, his voice low and content.

You couldn't help but laugh, a breathless, giddy sound that bubbled up from your chest. "I think that was the best training session I've ever had," you replied, your words laced with a mix of humour and sincerity.

reblogsノcomments are greatly appreciated <3

© lovesculprit → do not copy or translate any of my works

[reallife6anoufriev6boy6]

caldre smut fic

includes smut, handjobs, cliche porn scenarios, andre being a freak for cal protecting him, etc.

note: hope you enjoy! please bear with me on this one - i didnt get the chance to spell check or read over it again. if things are messed up just ignore it please<3 it wouldnt be anything major.

getting into fights was a rarity for andre.

andre was a good kid in that regard. in a lot of ways he was, but specifically that one. he didnt care for pointless fights over stupid things, he just didnt see the point.

that didnt mean it stopped other people from trying to fight him, though.

getting bullied is apart of the normal high school experience, but andre and his best friend, cal, had been put through more then necessary. they got pushed around and made fun of constantly, it wasnt pleasant at all. no bullying was, but this specifically wasnt.

for some reason, a particular set of people *really* had it out for andre. in all honesty, andre had no idea what he couldve done to illicit such a reaction from these people - it wasnt like he was going out of his way to be a total dickhead back.

well, sometimes he would say things back. maybe that was it, but even then he did that to everyone who seemed to have a problem with him, so he wasnt sure what got these people so pissed off.

it didnt matter though, what mattered was the fact they had tried to fight him for no good reason.

it was during one of their free periods - calvin and andre were outside by his car, enjoying themselves. they didnt like to be stuck inside around all of the people they hated, so if they could help it then they would.

two people had come up to them and andre recognized them immediately as the guys who really didnt like him. he figured they were here to say some stupid bullshit and then leave, but it came completely out of left field whenever one of them had gotten a good swing on andre - punching him square in the face.

by no means was andre weak. he was a lot stronger then most people would assume, he had good muscle on him and wasn’t totally clueless when it came to these things, but that didnt mean he would indulge in it. in fact, he had completely froze up and wasnt able to do anything *at all.*

it was pathetic to say the least and incredibly embarrassing for him, but he was lucky to have had cal there because just a moment later, cal was already laying it on to the guy who had punched him.

it wasnt a very fair fight considering it was two guys against cal, but he seemed to manage - at least somewhat.

unlike andre, calvin got in trouble quite often and had his own fair share of spats and fights over the years, so he wasnt as hesitant to fight - especially if it came to his best friend.

eventually though, a teacher had come out on her lunch break and was quick to break up the fight and separate everyone.

andre and cal were spoken to first by one of the staff members, scolding them and letting cal know his parents would be told and that hed be getting into trouble, as well as everything else youd expect to hear.

andre had gotten told off too, but not to the extent of his friend. he used that to his advantage and convinced them to let the two of them go home early rather then staying and waiting for calvins parents to come.

somehow it worked and now they were sitting in his car, ready to leave.

cal was in the passenger seat, holding a paper towel up to his nose to catch the blood. he had already gotten it all over his shirt and didnt want to get it all over andres car. he also had a black eye and various other injuries.

andre was sitting in the drivers side and was lucky enough to have only gotten a bloody nose. it hurt like hell, but it was better then what cal had gotten. there was dried blood around said area and a couple drops had gotten on his camo t-shirt. it wasnt bleeding anymore.

it was quiet, awkwardly so. andre felt awful for having just stood there like a dumbass instead of helping his friend - it was a dick move, really.

of course though, cal is quick to break the silence and joke about it.

“whyd you just stand there, man? you looked like a dumbass,” he teased, chuckling “you let me take the whole beating, dude.” it was all lighthearted, he didnt mean any of it. it amazed him that cal could be so relaxed and calm after something like that - that he wasnt pissed at him for not helping.

“i didnt know what to do,” hes honest, face heating up from the embarrassment of it “what was i even supposed to do?” he doesnt want to look over at him, to save himself from the shame, but he does and hes met with a smile.

“im just messing with you, ‘dre. its not a big deal,” it was a big deal, it was a massive deal to him “i just didnt want to see you get your ass kicked.”

“it *is* a big deal. i shouldnt have just stood there - i shouldve helped you, or something,” he sighed, now angry at himself “now youre gonna get in deep shit with your parents and youll get grounded or something. christ, i really shouldve…”

he gets cut off by the other putting a hand on his shoulder. he always had the habit of rambling when he was nervous which was another thing he was embarrassed about.

“andre, its okay. ill be fine - how many times have i gotten grounded before? its not the end of the world.” hes always quick to reassure him though, not wanting to see him get so worked up over something so small. it was probably why they got called a slue of different slurs - he acted like he was his boyfriend.

andres shoulders drop and the tension in his body eased. he guessed he wasnt wrong, but he still felt awful for it.

“alright, fine,” he gives in, finding it hard not to when it came to his friend “im gonna take you home with me.” he knew if he dropped cal off at his house now that his own nerves and temper would get the best of him and he would argue with his parents, only earning him more of a punishment.

calvin would always justify his actions, but his parents wouldnt see eye to eye. it would just cause more of a problem.

he earned a look from cal, but gave one right back that was a silent plea for him to just agree.

“sounds good to me.” he pulls his hand away, readjusting in his seat. andre lets out a breath he didnt know he was holding in.

the brunette was like a nervous dog. he could act tough and hard on the outside, but inside he was riddled with his own anxieties and nerves. he cared too much, but it would show as apathy. he could snap and bite - react with such intensity, but other times he would freeze and act like a statue.

he got anxious about calvin constantly, but he never showed it very well. this was the best way that he couldve.

-

it took some convincing, but andres parents had let cal stay. they didnt give the full story as that wouldve ruined their chances, but just enough to convince them.

once they were there, they had taken the time to get cleaned up and changed.

andre had wiped away the blood from cals nose, all gentle and sweet, before giving him a new shirt to wear and an ice pack for his eye. cal had returned the favor by cleaning the dried blood from andres face.

it was sweet, really, and oddly intimate when they did it. they always had something special between the two of them, but they never put a label to it. they didnt feel the need to.

they were something adjacent to what people would consider boyfriends, except they were more then that. they were more then any labels could possibly convey.

it wasnt like they acknowledged it though. it was just one of those things that silently lingered in the background, seeping into any normal activities and making them homoerotic.

besides for when they made it that way themselves. they were two horny teenage boys left to their own devices, what do you expect?

that is what had led them here.

recently, andre had set up an old tv in the basement along with a couch he had gotten from cal. cals family got a new one and didnt have a use for the old one, so they told calvin to do what he wanted with it. him and andre both agreed it would be nice to have it in the basement with the tv he had set up.

they already spent plenty of time in the basement, but now it was more comfortable.

tonight, they were both sitting on the couch and watching a movie on the tv. it was what they needed after the day they had - to just relax and enjoy themselves. the movie was some dumb horror movie cal had left the last time he was here, it wasnt anything incredibly interesting.

they were much more interested in each other anyway. well, at least the tension was there.

the two were practically cuddling - they were sitting so close to each other, sides touching and limbs tangled, with at least two blankets over top of them. it was cliche, but it was cold down there.

andre had his arm over cals shoulder and cal had his head on andres chest. it was amazing they still considered themselves friends even with the acceptance that there was something more.

he looks down at him, taking note of his face. the swelling around his eye had gone down, but of course there was still bruising around it. his nose and other injuries looked a little better too. although, he cant help but take in how the tv light shone on his face, highlighting his features. he was beautiful, truly.

“is your nose feeling better?” he asked, genuinely worried for his friends health.

the other looks up at him, his soft, baby blue eyes fixing right on him. it makes him swallow hard and his face feel a little warm.

“definitely better,” he smiled warmly “you did a good job cleaning it up.” his voice was soothing and gave andre butterflies. it was embarrassing, but it was the truth.

“i did what i could,” is how he responded, he was never able to take the compliments well “i just had to wipe off the blood.”

the blonde reaches a hand up to his face, placing it on his cheek and turning his head towards him “is yours any better? they hit you pretty hard.”

he has to stare at him for a moment, blinking, before he answered a beat later “yeah, just a little sore. ill be fine.” he would be fine, but he didnt think he could handle the way cal was caring for him.

“good, i didnt want you to get hurt,” he rarely showed his care so outwardly like this, but it was very much welcomed and appreciated “those assholes are on the top of my list, i swear.” he chuckled, still bringing humor into the situation.

“yeah, me too,” andre paused, but adds “im - sorry i didnt help you. i shouldve. it was dumb of me to just stand there.” to say the guilt still wasnt there would be a lie.

“its fine, dre. like i said i just didnt want to see you get your ass kicked,” it was such a silly way of saying it, but his words were laced with something adjacent to love “i dont mind protecting you.” its a joke, nothing more then a small jab, but it gives andre yet another fluttery feeling in his chest and stomach.

“i dont need to be protected.” he takes it a little too seriously, accidentally making his feelings about it known in the process.

calvin is quick to notice, smile turning into a sly smirk “are you sure, dre?,” his hand slips from his face and instead runs down his neck, fingers curling around the column as he drags his hand down slowly to his chest “are you sure you dont like it when i protect you?”

“cal,” he warns sternly, but the light from the tv is exposing the light layer of blush on his face. he did, he liked it very much so - more then he thought, but he knows what hes trying to do “my parents are upstairs.” he reminds him, but he could easily be swayed.

“so? we can be quiet, its not that hard,” he lifts his head, sitting up straight “unless im just that good,” he grinned, snickering while andre shot him a glare “really though, we’ll be quiet.”

andre thinks on it for a moment, but he’s honestly already made uo his mind. his erection was straining against his pants and he needed the relief, plus he wanted cal.

“alright fine,” he readjusted himself, sitting at a better angle “but if it gets too loud then im done.” that was a lie. he probably wouldnt be done. hed be too far gone at that point.

“anything for you, andre.” calvin practically purrs, his hand sliding down to his pants. he was wearing sweat pants, so all he had to do was stick his hand in them and pull his cock out.

his hand wraps around the length, long fingers curling perfectly.

“god, andre, youre so hard for me,” he breathes out, slowly dragging his hand up and then back down “do you really like it that much?”

the brunettes breath catches in his throat, having to bite back a groan “shut up, you - you know what you do to me.” it comes out weak, full of shame.

“no, tell me, what do i do to you?” he looks directly at him as he speaks, eyes half lidded and focused. his hand continues to stroke him.

andre doesnt want to say it. it was humiliating to say out loud - to admit the things cal did to him and the way he made him feel.

“everything, you do everything.” its all he can really say, too stubborn to elaborate, but his friend is swiping his thumb over his tip and asking so nicely.

“cmon, be specific, please?,” he begged “i want you to tell me it all, andre. tell me how good i make you feel.” his hand speeds up a little bit, using his precum as lubricant.

he has to hold back another groan, his hand clutching onto cals shoulder. it felt amazing, he had no idea how he could make it feel so good.

“you - god, cal, dont make me say it.” he muttered, wanting to reason with him. he sounded a little irritated and frustrated with the idea, but he only pushed further.

“i *protected* you today, the least you can do is tell me.” he knows exactly what hes doing and it works. he always knew his way around him.

“you - you make me feel good,” he swallows hard, his face warming up more then it already was “really good. i like how your hand feels on me.” he did enjoy how his boney fingers felt around him and how nice his palm felt against the sensitive skin. his hand fit perfectly over him like they were made for each other.

“yeah?” he asks, speeding up.

“yeah,” it comes out shaky, continuing “youre good at it. good at this, and, what you did earlier.”

thats exactly what he wants to hear. he speeds up again, going at a mostly normal pace now.

“you liked when i beat those assholes for you? took care of them so you didnt have to?,” its all questions he already had the answers to, it was so obvious “id do it again. just for you.”

andre moaned, bucking his hips up into his hand. calvin quickly catches his lips in a kiss, muffling the noise. he pulls away for a moment, talking quietly against them “quiet, dre.” he reminds him, even though he was the one to care about it so much originally.

he groaned as he was kissed again, the stroking on his dick starting to become too much. it felt wonderful, he could feel the knot in his gut already.

however, things are halted once they hear the basement door swing open, accompanied by andres parents speaking in german.

they both quickly pull away from each other and cals hand stops mid-stroke. andre grabs the remote and pauses the movie as his mother walks down the stairs.

“andre,” his head whips around, looking over the edge of the couch to his mom who was standing at the end of the stairs “your father and i need you to help at the restaurant again tomorrow.”

the brunette is quick to nod his head “yeah, sure, mom. thats fine.” he manages to keep his voice steady and calm, as if though cals hand wasnt wrapped around his cock still.

cal though gets the smart idea to continue.

“theres some extra work that needs to be done,” his hand slowly moves again, making andre inhale sharply while his mother continued “itll take up most of the day.”

“yeah, yeah, thats fine,” his voice is strained now, shooting cal a sharp look “ill do whatever you and dad need me to do.” hes quick to agree, wanting her to leave as soon as possible - especially if cal was going to be doing this to him.

“good,” she replies, but she continues “we got a call from your school today, too. we heard what happened,” this is the last thing andre needs - he could talk to her about this later “did you get into a fight?”

he hesitates for a moment, seeing the way his friend was looking at him “no, cal did.” its all he says. he didnt think hed be able to explain properly. not like this.

her head turns to look at the blonde boy next to him “you better not be dragging andre into any trouble, cal.” she says it sternly, eyes narrowing.

calvin is unaffected while andre is struggling to keep it together.

“im not, mrs.kriegman, i promise. you have nothing to worry about,” he smiles and uses that sweet tone parents love “i was only looking out for him. protecting him if you will.” he says it with a small laugh, but he glanced over at him and grinned at the small exhale he let out.

she hummed at the answer, satisfied enough with it “good. dont bring andre into any fights.”

“mom, i can prot - ect myself.” he has to bite back a whine as cal speeds up a little. after they were done with this he was going to show him a piece of his mind.

his mother doesnt seem to notice though. she turns on her heels towards the stairs “i dont want you in any fights,” she spoke sharply, but her tone relaxes “come upstairs soon. dinners almost ready.” thats the last thing she says before shes walking back up the stairs and closing the door behind her.

andre waits a moment, then turns to cal “cal, why would you do that?,” he hissed “you know you cant-“ hes swiftly cut off by another kiss and he cant help but melt into it.

he reciprocates and its wet and messy - opening his mouth and letting cal do as he pleases. its gross, but its them. its everything he could want.

he continues to stroke him, going back to the previous pace they had before. it makes a lewd wet sound every time his hand goes up and down and its utterly intoxicating.

his thumb swipes at the tip, collecting his precum and using it on his length. he pulls away from the kiss and speaks lowly.

“cmon, dre, finish for me,” he whispered, placing a kiss to his jawline “finish all over my hand.”

“cal, fuck, fuck,” he practically whines, grabbing onto the back of his hair and pulling “shit, please, please,”

“show me how much you appreciate it, andre,” he knows exactly what hes talking about, but he continues “show me the good boy i bothered fighting for.”

that does it for him, he cums all over his hand with a choked moan - getting it all over his shirt and the blanket in the process too.

cal places a few more kisses to his jawline, laying the praise on thick “good boy, good boy, so good for me.” his hand slows to a stop, riding him out through his orgasm.

andre can barely think. his head is hazy with the afterglow, breathing heavy and trying to come down.

his grip loosens on the others hair and he steadied his breathing. he was still so high on the lust, but he still felt disgusting. he was sticky with sweat and now he had cum on him.

it was worth it.

“fuck, cal, youre amazing.” he says it in between breaths, relaxing back against the couch.

“yeah, i know,” he replied smugly, pulling his hand away from him “i just wanted to make you feel good.”

he glanced over, raising a brow “what about you? arent you hard?”

his grin returns and he knows what that look means “you have to shower after dinner, right?”

andre groaned “seriously? in the shower?” it earns a laugh from the other, but he doesnt mind. sex in the shower sounded fantastic honestly and cal knew that.

“yeah, do you not want it?” he asked, baiting him into admitting he wanted it just as much as him.

“no - yeah, i do. just…” he doesnt have a good comeback which makes the other laugh again, but he cant find it in himself to be annoyed.

“thats what i thought.”

maybe being protected wasnt so bad after all.

[wangxianficfinder]

In the mood for...

Jan 1st

~*~

1. New year, new fics ahead, but before that - please rec me ONE fic you read last year ^^

i guess i'll have to change my plan by darjeelinh (E, 42k, WangXian, Modern, Meet-Cute, Falling In Love, Love at First Sight, First Kiss, First Time, Inspired by Before Sunrise (1995) and Before Sunset (2004), soft rom-com vibes, One Night Stands, but not really, Light Angst with a Happy Ending, they both have demi vibes in this fight me about it, Misunderstandings, Separations, Reunions, WangXian canon Elopement™️ shenanigans, now with art)

🔒 A Heart Undying by NonsensicalRambling (M, 114k, WangXian, Undead WWX, Canon-Typical Violence, canon-typical dead things the burial mounds, Fix-It of Sorts, Canon Divergence, Eventual WangXian, No Yīn Tiger Seal, Morally Gray WWX, Animals Eating People, WWX’s questionable choices, Morally conflicted LWJ, Oblivious WWX, WWX Creates a Sect | Yiling Wei, YLLZ WWX, Sect Leader WWX, LWJ & WQ have an Understanding)

Once Patience Bears Fruit by FinallyGotTheInvitation (E, 88k, WIP, WangXian, Immortal LWJ, Immortal LSZ, Mortal WWX, soon to be, Immortal WWX, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Happy Ending, Fluff and Smut, WWX Has a New Golden Core, Oblivious WWX, Protective LWJ, Reincarnation, Sex Magic, Top LWJ/Bottom WWX, novel canon, "Straight" WWX, Age Difference, switching POV, Drunken Kissing, Drunken Flirting, Power Dynamics, Light Bondage) For #1 & 13 It’s a wonderfully done spin on the Immortal LWJ x Modern Reincarnated WWX trope. And not only do we have the whole family bonding in the mountains we also have all of WWX’s past loved ones reincarnated as well this time all of them live and they’re all pretty tight knit, this WWX definitely has the support system #13 was asking for, but while it is an important plot point, it’s not the main point of the fic.

~*~

2. Hii I’m not sure if you guys take crossover requests? If not just ignore this! But for ITMF, I’m looking for fics that have WWX as a supreme ghost king (mdzs x tgcf). Thanks!!

Back From The Dead by Suibian_613 (T, 44k, WIP, WangXian, XuanLi, HuaLian, XuanXuan, XinQing, Canon Divergence, Canonical Character Death, Supreme Ghost King WWX, Canon-Typical Violence, JZX lives and so does JYL, HX is stupid and in love, SQX is the Wind Master, Badass WWX, Not so oblivious WWX, XY is a Brat, he doesn’t kill anyone important tho, WWX has a ghost city, Let the Yunmeng Bros be Bros, Suggestive Themes, obsessive XY, gender fluid SQX)

The Red Ribbon by sanmaci (M, 22k, WangXian, HuaLian, Canon Divergence, Ghost City, Immortality, Cultivation Partners, Juniors, XL and HC find a child who happens to be WWX, Canon-Typical Violence, Fluffy wangxian, WWX is a Supreme Ghost King, First Time)

and thus the crow flies by cloudyrobinwrites (jwyoomi) (M, 39k, WangXian, MXY & WWX, HuaLian, WIP, Ghost WWX, WWX is a Calamity, Sentient Burial Mounds, The Burial Mounds Wants More Kids, Canon Divergence, what happens when a ghost king gets thrown into a murder mystery, WWX picked up MXY and decided he'll be his student now, MXY managed to summon a calamity level ghost what a guy, WWX disguises himself as a rogue cultivator, WWX's crows have adopted MXy, WWX and MXY make a very good duo actually, WangXian are going on a roadtrip, WWX learns how to do ghost mitosis, local newborn supreme ghost wranglers HuaLian, LWJ is not saying much but trust hes coping as well as he can w all these curveballsm hes just happy that WWX is back)

~*~

3. do you guys know any post-(novel)canon fics that focus on the juniors' relationship with wwx?

bespoke by cafecliche (G, 3k, WangXian, Post-Canon, Fluff, LSZ is a very good boy, which is specifically a tag for the fic but also just true in general)

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

Trust by FlyingMachine1 (G, 8k, WWX & Junior Ensemble, WangXian, Junior Quartet Dynamics, Junior Ensemble Shenanigans, BAMF WWX, Humor, junior quartet is the wwx fan club)

The following also feature the relationship between Wei Ying & the Juniors but involve time travel

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

And They Lived Happily Ever After… by Morgana_avalon (G, 51k, WangXian, Zhuiling, Time Travel Fix-It, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Canon Universe, Canon Related, set before the ambush happens at Qiongqi Path, Canon Divergence, Bunnies, Good brother JC, Good JZX, CQL Verse)

🔒 Forget Myself in Memories by geethr75 (T, 10k, JC & WWX, JC & JL, JL & LJY & LSZ & OYZZ, WangXian, LXC & NMJ, JYL/JZX, Junior Quartet Dynamics, Time Travel Fix-It, Juniors travel to the past, Post-Canon, Canon Divergence, double trouble, Past WWX meets future WWX in MXY's body, Past JC meets future JC, Sect Leader JL, Sect Leader OYZZ, Sect Heir LJY, Fluff and Angst, Mostly Fluff, Happy Ending, JGY dies as Meng Yao, SS and JZn diesn JGS dies, WQ and WN lives, JYL and JZX Lives, no golden core transfer, No golden core melting, The Juniors save the day, WWX saves the day too, Alternate Timelines)

~*~

4. itmf fics where someone kills jgs (and that's a focal point of the fic). thanks! 💙

He Had It Coming by The_Hourglass_Muse (M, 2k, JZX & JGY, JGY & XY, Have to hide a body, Minor Character Death, JGS is dead, Dark Comedy, Revenge, Canon Divergence, Canon-Typical Violence, Warning: XY, Body Horror, Corpse Desecration, Villainous Friends)

Blood is compulsory by april_rainer (tom_bedlam) (T, 3k, LXC & JGY, Major Character Death, JGS is the major character death, no other main characters are harmed, although a lot of background people die, JGY & LXC both have various levels of feelings about killing lots of people, TW:Suicidal Thoughts, (minor but there))

🔒 Ripples in a Pond by Spiraling (Stormwind13) (T, 5k, MS & JGY, MS & Madam Jin, Non-Linear Narrative, Slice of Life, Canon Divergence, Dead JGS)

Cover-Up by nirejseki (Not Rated, 1k, JYL/JZX, Murder, But Justified, JGS dies, does it count as a major character death if no one is upset about it?)

🔒 murder is easy, especially if you're murdering an asshole by ravenditefairylights (Not Rated, 5k, JC & WWX & JYL, Canon Divergence, No Sunshot Campaign, Murder, Violence, Blood, Sibling Bonding, Attempted Rape/Non-Con, Protective Siblings, Derogatory Language, really just jgs being himself)

🔒 The Straightest Path by meyari (T, 30k, WangXian, NieLan, MingLi, ChengSang, war and death, Grief/Mourning, Politics, plotting for neuroatypicals, Autistic LWJ, WWX Has ADHD, Non-Canon Relationship, No Yīn Iron, Sect Leader LWJ) it's not the focus of The Straightest Path but the story goes into details of JGS' death in chapters 9 & 10.

~*~

5. Helloo, good day to all of you mods!

For the next "In The Mood For", can I trouble you with Uncle WWX.

Like WWX raising Jin Ling instead of Jiang Cheng.

Thankss @lil-dusty-rose

~*~

6. I'm in the mood for- A Chengqing arranged marriage AU with a happy ending? Also, no archive warnings or explicit sex, please? Thanks! @greyjedijaneite

~*~

7. Helloo!! For the next ITMF, im looking for a fic which has a little slowburn and pining (wangxian ofc) and lots of jelly lz!! It would be great if there was some sexual tension too 🤭 BUT PLS NO BOTTOM LZ . The universe doesnt matter it can be modern au or post canon anything is alright. As always thank u in advance!! @for13years-i-play-inquiry-foryou

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)

a light hidden and singing by occultings (microcomets) (E, 48k, wangxian, arranged marriage, pining, getting together, slow burn, misunderstandings, miscommunication, blood & injury, happy ending, smut)

Odd Geometry by maziodyne (M, 116k, WangXian, JC/NHS, JYL/JZX, JYL/WQ, WIP, WWX does not grow up in Lotus Pier, WWX Isn't Adopted by the Jiangs, Elemental Magic, Healer WWX, Sunshot Campaign, Post-Sunshot Campaign, Slow Burn, letter writing romance, flirting at inopportune times, Crows, Familiars, Homoeroticism, epic divorce incoming, triple agent WQ, lockpicking, communication (but does it change anything?))

🔒 The Promises We Make by Mayarenerose (G, 34k, WangXIan, LSZ & LWJ, LXC & LWJ, WN & LWJ, JC & LWJ, Happy Ending, Slow Burn, Fluff, Angst, Everybody Lives, Canon Divergence, Gratuitous Bed Sharing, LWJ: moves into the Burial Mounds, WWX ??? wtf??? are you??? doing??, Rabbits)

~*~

8. any recs for get lost cave scene lwj pov and/or 33 lashes + what happened after he found out about wwx’s death

~*~

9. Hi! For the next ITMF do you have any recs with intense yearning. Specifically where LWJ does the yearning. Longer fics would be great! Thanks!!!

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

It's Only Time by etymologyplayground (T, 8k, WangXian, LXC & LWJ, Epistolary, Post-Canon, Canon Compliant, It's About The Yearning, Getting Together, Love Confessions, Cuddling & Snuggling, Humor)

Inquiry by incendir (G, 10k, WangXian, LSZ & LWJ)

🔒 so take my hand (take my whole life too) by cicer (E, 92k, WangXian, Modern AU, 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)

爱不释手; never let me go by yiqie (E, 68k, WangXian, Case Fic, Blood and Injury, Demons, Body Horror, [Podfic] 爱不释手; never let me go by argentumlupine)

~*~

10. Hello!

Could you please for itmf:

Modern aus where both wwx and lwj are older than ~35

Mlm

Thank you!

~*~

11. Okay I just finished reading Prenups and Pelicans byElpie (Horribibble)

And I want more of this is if there any other fic

That is kind of similar to this and has the reactions of all the guests because I want to read the reactions of the Jin and madam yu @constancebloodstone

~*~

12. Do we have any " the help" fusion of wangxian where wwx is miss Celia and anyone else is minnie Jackson? Or something similar to it? Uk where the dynamics btwn wangxian is like the dynamics miss Celia amd her husband have? @jaywuji

~*~

13. hi this is ITMF! im thinking a fic very much so wwx centric. preferably in that he has a strong support system and people who obviously care abt him. hurt/comfort or angst welcome. if there's a focus on wwx being attractive, in looks or in personality that's cool too! tysm for all the hard work and happy new year :)

In Exchange by FlautistsandPeonies (M, 8k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Implied WangXian Ending, The Power of Yiling Laozu Sexy, WWX Canon Memory Loss, WWX gets his original body back, Crack Treated Seriously, not for jc fans, Attractive WWX, WangXian Get a Happy Ending)

the stone-filled sea by yukla (T, 9k, LSZ & WWX, LSZ & LWJ, WangXian, Post-Canon, senior wei defense squad, a study of the way prejudice and injustice and anger trickle down from generation to generation, [Podfic] the stone-filled sea by yukla by Beria1021, the stone-filled sea [Podfic] by BrickGrass)

🔒 Bright Voice Roughly Rendered Softly Silent by Preludian_Staves (T, 26k, WangXian, Canon-Typical Violence, Canon Divergence, No Golden Core Transfer, Muteness, Hurt/Comfort, Getting Together, Not JC Friendly, Confessions, Angst, Choking, Red String of Fate, Appearances by Paperman!WWX, Inventor WWX, Good Uncle LQR, WWX goes to Cloud Recesses, Feelings Realization, Caretaking, Supportive Lan Family, Genius WWX, Angst with a Happy Ending, WangXian Get a Happy Ending, Protective LWJ, Protective Lan Family, Character Death (not wwx or lwj))

Meet you at a different place by tawaen (M, 57k, WQ & WN, WN & MXY & WQ, WQ & WWX & WN, Eventual WangXian, Ghost General WN, Ghost WQ, Canon Divergence, WQ comes back to haunt the cultivation world, Bad idea to kill the one person who didn’t kill anyone, Cultivation World Critical, Not JC Friendly, Wen Remnants Deserve Better, Sīsī Deserves Better, MXY Deserves Better, POV WQ)

🔒 between the shadow and the soul by Reverie (cl410) (M, 22k, WangXian, JYL/WQ, JC/NHS, Canon Divergence, Angst with a Happy Ending, Family, Dark WWX, Feral WWX, Memory Loss, Magic, Magical Realism, Protective LWJ, Protective JC, Protective JYL, Grief, BAMF WWX, POV Alternating)

Once Patience Bears Fruit by FinallyGotTheInvitation (E, 88k, WIP, WangXian, Immortal LWJ, Immortal LSZ, Mortal WWX, soon to be, Immortal WWX, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Happy Ending, Fluff and Smut, WWX Has a New Golden Core, Oblivious WWX, Protective LWJ, Reincarnation, Sex Magic, Top LWJ/Bottom WWX, novel canon, "Straight" WWX, Age Difference, switching POV, Drunken Kissing, Drunken Flirting, Power Dynamics, Light Bondage) (link in #1) For #1 & 13 It’s a wonderfully done spin on the Immortal LWJ x Modern Reincarnated WWX trope. And not only do we have the whole family bonding in the mountains we also have all of WWX’s past loved ones reincarnated as well this time all of them live and they’re all pretty tight knit, this WWX definitely has the support system #13 was asking for, but while it is an important plot point, it’s not the main point of the fic.

The most dangerous thing is to love by KatAnni (E, 113k, WangXian, Golden Core Reveal, Fix-It, Everybody Lives, Angst with a Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, Canon Divergence, Hurt!WWX, Found Family, Implied/Referenced Torture, POV Multiple, Implied/Referenced Cannibalism, Panic Attacks, PTSD, Golden Core Transfer, Golden Core Transfer Fix-it, Medical Procedures, Fainting, Major Character Injury, Blood and Injury, WWX Has a New Golden Core, Asexual JC, homophobia doesn’t exist here, Marriage Proposal, Marriage, Wedding Night, Whump) This fic is in the Sunshot campaign era, and as such WWX is obviously *going through it*, and he tried to do it with just as much secrecy as cannon. Too bad for him the author had something to say about that and he got found out basically instantly, which causes his support network to start actually supporting him… but the angry grape is still there so it’s done with a lot of caring anger.

~*~

14. Fics about Yiling Wei Sect!! Butttt!! It was already established long ago and wwx was not the one to establish it.

~*~

15. Hello Happy new year Everyone I am currently in the mood for some Switch/Versatile SangYao fics. @thatperson0-0

~*~

16. For the next ITMF, does anyone know of any fics where someone tries to assassinate WWX before he defects from the Jiang clan? (Either during the sunshot campaign or shortly after) thank you in advance ✨️

~*~

17. hi! any fics were lan zhan's rich and pays for anything wei ying needs, buys him lots of stuff, and just spends a lot of money on him? could be a sugar daddy au or just a relationship with this dynamic @ashxi-wx

The Misunderstanding by kisahawklin (T, 9k, WangXian, Modern AU, Misunderstandings, POV Outsider)

For Safekeeping Purposes by ChilianXianzi (M, 2k, WangXian, Modern AU, Gangsters, Crime Boss LWJ, Sugar Daddy LWJ, WWX Has Self-Esteem Issues, Domestic fluff but everyone’s in a crime syndicate, Found Family, Age Difference, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Canon-typical Abusive Jiangs)

🧡 All Old Things are New Again by The Feels Whale (miscellea) (M, 51k, WangXian, Reincarnation, Modern AU, canon still happened, extreme post canon, Sugar Daddy, Kink Negotiation, gentle dom!LWJ, canonical levels of consent play, Modern Cultivators, cultivators can recognize important people from previous lives, vaguely, this started out as a cute sugar fantasy and got just incredibly horny very fast, blame LWJ)

🔒 Snow by kuro (M, 38k, WangXian, Modern, Snow, Sick Character, Caretaking, Fluff, Sugar Daddy, only they're like… bad at it, Angst, Rabbits, Food, Sexy Times, occasionally)

golden when the day met the night by glitteringmoonlight (Not Rated, 95k, WangXian, Slow-ish burn, Sugar Daddy LWJ, Light Angst, Fluff, Developing Relationship, WWX gets all the appreciation he deserves, even if he's a bit confused about it at first, warprize au with a twist, in that everyone thinks WWX is a warprize, but LWJ has only platonic and honourable intentions, at first 😏, Eventual Smut, WIP)

my rivers tilt towards you by perfectlyrose (T, 26k, WangXian, Canon, Canon Divergence, Slow Burn, Mutual Pining, Fairy Tale Elements, dragonji, mentions of, Madam Yu's A+ Parenting, First Meetings, Romance, Strangers to Friends to Lovers, Hurt/Comfort)

~*~

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!***

[eternal-love-song]

Trust The Rogue To Lead You

Follow up to A Wish Breathed Into You

Odile contemplates the quest that her traveling partner has dragged her into. She trust him to lead her on this path.

[Siffrin & Odile] [Alternate Universe, Second Person POV, Odile POV, Introspection, Character Study]

Siffrin was a bit of an odd fellow, you'd known that since the first time you'd stumbled across each other. They were aimless and air headed at times, while being completely singled minded and determined at others. They could forget their words mid sentence one minute, but tell you the entire translation history of a play in the next. You didn't understand them, but you found them frightfully easy to get along with. 

You had already been traveling for quite some time when you met Siffrin, and it seemed that they had been doing the same but with much less grace. They didn't seem to have a destination that they were aiming for and, though you wouldn't realize this until much later, didn't have a place that they planned to return to either. It was easy enough to let them stick by your side for a time and then just as easy to want them to stay there. 

It was true that you questioned their decision to visit a frozen country, even when your own desire to do the same was rather high. It was a dangerous, reckless, and ill advised course of action. As much as you thought them to be a madman for suggesting it, you must have been just as mad to agree. As unorthodox as Siffrin's methods could be at times, he hadn't steered you wrong yet. You were hesitant to speak the words aloud, but you had placed a fair bit of trust in Siffrin and it had been repaid poorly.

Still, this "Universe" that they went on about mad zero since to you. It was somehow everything, but also everything was inside of it. It was a guiding force, but also he couldn't tell you a single thing about it when pressed. Not that Siffrin had ever been good at explaining himself under pressure, but that didn't mean you could always stop yourself from trying. You understood that it was part of his religion in some fashion, but you desperately wished you could get a few more concrete details out of him. 

"I don't know what to tell you, Odile," Siffrin had shrugged at you when you'd tried to poke at his words. "The Universe leads, all we can do is follow."

He said it with such finality that it must have been a common saying in… wherever Siffrin was from. You'd yet to figure it out or get anything out of him on that mystery. The only thing you knew for sure was that he had no intention of returning there. Whether that was because he refused to for some reason or perhaps wasn't allowed to, you had yet to figure out. 

It hadn't taken you long to begin writing down all your observations about Siffrin. It had taken even less time after that to realize that you'd need a separate notebook if you really wanted to understand all the strange oddities of your new companion. There had been one too many instances of scribbling in the margins of an already filled page for your liking, so you made the investment for a Siffrin specific book.

It worked out in your favor, as he seemed to get a kick out of trying to peek over your shoulder and you enjoyed the little game you'd made of pretending to hide it from him. It also gave you a chance to learn more about them. You'd learned earlier on that they couldn't read Ka Buan, so you'd made a game of seeing which scripts he could and could not recognize. Poterian seemed to offer him no trouble, which made sense as the two of you had met in Poteria. He scrunched up his face at Mwu script, which led you to assume that he didn't have much, if any, familiarity with the language. He had no trouble with Vaugardian, but seemed to take longer to parse out Andiran, despite the languages similarities. 

You were used to others becoming a bit uncomfortable if you paid too much attention to them, so it was a refreshing change of pace that you could tease Siffrin in this manner. If anything, he seemed flattered by your attention.

It also made it easier to show your affection in this way. You weren't very physically affectionate, but you could list out the traits that you found endearing about them and smile as they slowly slunk into their cloak to hide their darkening face. 

So, you were reasonably fond of Siffrin, you trusted him, and you were more willing to go along with his insane plans than you perhaps should have been. You didn't have a problem with any of this until you watched them fall out of a tree and scream bloody murder for so long that you knew you'd never be able to get the sound out of your head.

You hadn't questioned them on their little rituals, they'd always had them but this was one of the areas you were able to be patient in learning about them. You hadn't had any regret for that decision until then. If whatever they had done had led to this, you couldn't fathom allowing them to do as they pleased again. 

Only… it worked. You hadn't truly believed that he could "fix Vaugarde" or whatever their insane idea had been, but as you looked around and saw life returning to the branches of the tree, you had to second guess that assumption. It seemed that "wishing" had more validity to it than you ever could have guessed.

"Wishcraft?" You asked with some incredulity. You had demanded that he allow you to check him over for injuries, but amazingly, he didn't seem to be hurt at all. You weren't sure how that was possible with how hard he had fallen and how raw they had screamed themselves, but you decided to let it go for the time being. Too many mysteries at once would give you a headache. 

Siffrin simply nodded at you. "Yeah. It's… I'm not sure how to explain it?"

You tried to control your expression so that you didn't look as skeptical as you felt. "A craft based around… wishes?" You repeat. "I've never heard of such a thing before."

Siffin sank down into his cloak the way he often did when he was embarrassed, before he looked back at you and shrugged. "I… don't know why I know it, just that I… do?"

There were a great many things that Siffrin didn't know why they knew. His memory was unreliable at the best of times, yet his knowledge was usually spot on. He was more likely to underestimate his knowledge than overestimate it. 

"Tell me more about this… Wishcraft."

"Like what?" They asked with such an unassuming expression that you knew they were not simply trying to withhold the information from you. Sometimes you weren't sure how someone as expressive and kind as Siffrin had made it on their own as long as they did. You often sent thanks to whatever Expression had guided them to your side instead of into the hands of someone worse. 

"How does it work?" you asked, opening your notebook so that you could keep track of whatever they told you. "What does it do?"

"Well, it works by wishing?" He didn't sound particularly certain as he said that, but you attributed that more to him explaining it to you than any actual uncertainty in what he was trying to say. "And… it can do… a lot? Maybe not anything, but… I mean, if you wish for it…"

You wouldn't get anywhere this way. 

"Alright, how about you tell me about this?" You gesture to the Favor Tree. 

"You have to make a wish in order to use it," he started slowly. You could practically see him trying to arrange the words in his head. "And you can wish for anything, but the way that you wish makes a difference."

"How so?"

You could tell from the way that their face scrunched up that this isn't something he'll be able to answer. Or if he can, certainly not easily. You decided to try a different avenue.

"What are some ways to make wishes?"

Siffrin perked up a bit at that question. It must be easier to answer than the others. "There are rituals," he answered. "Like, if you're just saying your wish aloud, you can say it three times, or six, sometimes nine, but it isn't usually a good idea to go higher than that. You can, but…"

But he can't explain the ins and outs of it.

"What else?" You asked, writing that down.

"You can wish on a dandelion, but you have to blow all the seeds away in a single breath or it won't work. And you can wish on a star, but you have to really want it for a star to grant your wish and that's only for bigger wishes, anyway."

Siffrin had mentioned stars before, but you weren't sure why they had a hand in granting wishes. In fact, you weren't sure that any of this made sense to you. You didn't see any connecting thread between these things. You gestured for him to go on anyway.

"With the cranes, you have to fold a certain amount of them and the more that you fold, the bigger you can make your wish," he told you. "But just folding them isn't enough. You have to focus on your wish while folding and then whisper it into the folds of the paper so that the paper holds the wish and keeps it safe."

"Why does the paper need to hold the wish?"

He looked confused at the question. "Something has to take your wish to the Universe. So like, with a dandelion, each seed is carrying your wish away, but if you don't want it enough, then it won't be granted. That's why you need to blow off all the seeds." That… almost made sense to you. "Cranes can fly, so if you tell them your wish, they can carry it to the Universe for you, but only if you fold them right. Otherwise your wish will fall out and it'll be dropped before they make it to the sky."

Wishcraft sounded utterly absurd, but it was clear that there were rules. Rules that operated under some kind of logic even though you were clearly lacking the connective tissue to follow that logic. 

You finish writing down everything he told you, even the parts that didn't make sense to you. Perhaps if you revisit the topic down the line, it will. 

"So… unfreezing Vaugarde." It sounded completely mad when you'd first agreed, but now the task had gone from impossible to merely… daunting. You couldn't imagine taking on more responsibility than you seemingly just had. Unfreezing an entire country, fighting off hordes of these Sadness. Would it be just as volatile of a process every time? Would Siffrin need to use the same ritual? Would it always… hurt him?

You suspected that Siffrin wouldn't have the answer to these questions if you asked him. 

"We should get some sleep," you told him, closing your book and pushing yourself to your feet. You felt the strain in your limbs just a bit and when you stretched, you could feel the creak in your back. "I suspect we'll have quite a lot of work ahead of us when the town unfreezes."

Siffrin nodded and pushed himself to his feet. 

Tomorrow you might not have a choice in how things proceeded, so you should probably ask now, while you have the chance. 

"Siffrin." They stopped and looked up at you. "Are you sure that you want to take up this task? It will not be easy and it will not be quick. It'll be more dangerous than our previous travels and more labor intensive as well."

Silence settled between you for a while. You hoped that they were considering your words and not considering how to distance themselves from you for the audacity of asking.

"I have to do this, I think," he said eventually. "Even if the Universe didn't guide me here, I owe it to Vauguarde. Also… I might be the only one that can." He looked up. "So I have to do it. I don't want Vaguarde to become just a memory." Another pause. "You don't have to help me… if you don't want to."

You reach out to place a hand on his head. "I'm not leaving you to do this alone, my dear rogue. This old lady will be with you for a while longer, yet."

He smiled, small and shy, but full of warmth. "Thanks Odile."

In the morning the two of you watch as the town comes to life. People that had been frozen in motion lurched forward, bird song slowly began to fill the air, the lightlessness receded from the world, and the air warmed. You and Siffrin tried to follow the wave of the curse breaking to catch those that were stuck in awkward positions and try to explain what had happened. 

By the afternoon, most of the town was unfrozen and by nightfall, you could see the borders where Siffrin's wish had stopped.

You tried to explain, as simply as you could, what had happened. Neither you nor Siffrin really wanted to get into the idea of Wishcraft, but you didn't really need to. People understood that the two of you were responsible for unfreezing them and the rest didn't really matter to them all that much. 

"We're so grateful to you, saviors!" Your eyes went to Siffrin when one of the townsfolk grabbed your hands to thank you. From the way they were shrinking into their cloak, you didn't think that they would appreciate the correction. Siffrin didn't particularly enjoy too much attention on him and while you knew that the attention would inevitably come, you didn't need to hasten the inevitable. "Please, is there any way that we can help you?"

You only needed to consider your response for a moment. 

"There's a long journey ahead of us, a sizable task. And aid that you could offer…"

"Of course!"

"Anything for our saviors!"

The people of Vaugarde were generous. That could be expected from a person in their position, but you were fairly certain you would not receive this warm of a response from Ka Bue if your home had been in the same position. They offered you supplies for your journey, as much food as you could reasonably carry, and begged you to stay long enough for them to hold a celebration with you both.

You agreed, of course. There wasn't a time limit to your journey. Between fighting and traveling, the task would be arduous enough, but you weren't yet sure what burden Wishcraft would put on Siffrin, so you wanted to give them ample time to relax while they could. 

During the height of the celebration you decide to check the Favor tree. You aren't yet sure what significance they hold to Vaugarde, you haven't gotten the chance to ask anyone yet, but Siffrin had told you what they were called and it had served as the base for their wish which seemed like it must be significant somehow. To your surprise, the light that had been housed within the paper cranes had died. 

You spent a long time staring at them and at the people surrounding the favor tree. There were still so many unknowns about this journey, this mysterious craft. You weren't yet sure how to navigate it all, how you could help Siffrin, but you were determined to try. You knew that much. 

"Hey, Odile!" You turned to Siffrin smiling up at you, holding out their hand. "Flower for you!"

It was a simple thing, the flower. Just a small token. But it had been frozen just hours earlier and now it was alive. Because of you. You and Siffrin. 

You accept the flower with a small smile. "Thank you, Siffrin."

The smile that they gift you with is even better than the flower, but only one of those can be bundled up so that you can keep it with you forever. 

[elspethdekarios]

Okay we all know about the Solas/Varric banter with the man on the island, but I was listening to DAI banter earlier (as one does) and now that we know about the titans/lyrium bodies/the blight there are several others that are SO GOOD and worth talking about so here goes. I might not be saying anything new here but I needed to get it out of my brain.

Trickster Figures in Dwarven Literature

Solas: By the end of Hard in Hightown, almost every character is revealed as a spy or a traitor. Varric: Wait, you read my book? Solas: It was in the Inquisition library. Everyone but Donnen turned out to be in disguise. Is that common? Varric: Are we still talking about books or are you asking if everyone I know is a secret agent? Solas: Are there many tricksters in dwarven literature? Varric: A handful, but they're the exception. Mostly they're just honoring the ancestors. It's very dull stuff. Human literature? Now there's where you'll find the tricky, clever, really deceptive types. Solas: Curious. Varric: Not really. Dwarves write how they want things to be. Humans write to figure out how things are.

So it's obvious in hindsight that Solas is asking about trickster figures because he is one himself, but now that we know what we know, I think it's incredibly poignant that he's specifically asking about trickster figures in dwarven literature. It makes me wonder if he's not only asking out of curiosity but because he wants to know if the dwarves write about him. Is he a trickster figure in their legends too? Now that so much time has passed since ancient Arlathan, do the dwarves have some twisted memory of the Evanuris like the Dalish do? Do they have a tale about Fen'Harel who tranquilized the Titans and severed the dwarves' ties to their ancestry?

I don't quite know what to think of Varric's last line: "Dwarves write how they want things to be. Humans write to figure out how things age." I wonder, though, if this eases Solas's concern about appearing in their mythology. If dwarven writing is idealistic/optimistic, there's probably a slim chance the truth will be revealed that way. Maybe the fact that humans write "to figure out how things are" gives him pause - but I think humans aren't concerned enough about the elves to write themselves into discovering his secrets, so I don't think Solas really has a reason to concern himself with trickster figures in human literature.

The Lyrium Trade

Solas: Is it true that the entire dwarven economy relies upon lyrium? Varric: Mostly. We've got the nug market cornered as well. Solas: And the dwarves of Orzammar have never studied lyrium? Varric: If they have, they certainly haven't shared anything up here. Why? Solas: It is the source of all magic, save that which mages bring themselves. Solas: Dwarves alone have the ability to mine it safely. I wondered if they had sought to learn more. Varric: The folks back in Orzammar don't care much about anything but tradition.

And here we have yet another attempt by Solas to see what the dwarves know about him without giving himself away. He wants to know if they're aware of what lyrium actually is, and, by extension, if they know about the history of the Titans and the Evanuris. There are several banters between these two where Solas is incredibly curious about Orzammar. Varric is like "wtf man, stop asking me about Orzammar, I'm a surface dwarf" and Solas gets frustrated that Varric isn't interested in his ancestry at all. This is partially because Solas places so much importance on ancestry in general, but part of his frustration has to be because Varric can't tell him what he wants to know. Also, imagine waking up after however many years and the dwarves are sustaining their economy almost completely on the literal blood of their ancestors - the ancestors you destroyed. That has to be horrifying. Harding brings this up at the end of her personal questline in Veilguard, when you return to Kal-Sharok and interact with the carvings on the wall. It's different for her, of course, because those are her own people, but the sentiment is the same, and the question is the same: would the dwarves sustain themselves on the lyrium trade if they knew the truth?

In the same lyrium vein:

Solas: I find the fall of the dwarven lands confusing. Varric: What's so confusing about endless darkspawn? Solas: A great deal, although that is a different matter. Dwarves control the flow of lyrium. They could tighten their grip on it. Varric: It's hard to get the attention of the humans when the darkspawn aren't up here messing with their stuff. Solas: You're active in the Carta. You know your people could tug the purse strings. You could claim sovereign land on the surface, or demand help restoring the dwarven kingdom, but you don't. Varric: You're not saying anything I haven't said myself, Chuckles. Orzammar is what it is.

I think this is Solas trying to ease his guilt by offering solutions. Is it a little egotistical of him to assume the carta/dwarves/Varric haven't already thought of this? Yeah, but he's Solas AKA Pride Personified. Anyway, I think this is Solas's way of assuaging his guilt just a little bit.

A Once Mighty Hero

Solas: I am sorry to have bothered you with my questions about your people Varric. I see so much of this world in dreams. Humans, my own people, even qunari. Dwarves alone were lost to me, save scattered fragments of memory where some spirit cared to watch. Now I know why I see so little. Varric: And why is that? Solas: Dwarves are the severed arm of a once mighty hero, lying in a pool of blood. Undirected. Whatever skill of arms it had, gone forever. Although it might twitch to give the appearance of life, it will never dream. Varric: I'd avoid mentioning that to any Carta, Chuckles. They might not take it the right way.

Okay, Solas is definitely doing his twisting-the-truth thing in the first lines. He knows why dwarves have little to no presence in the Fade, because he is the reason, but he's so close to revealing the truth here. Not about him, and not about how, but about why. The image he paints of the once mighty hero in a pool of blood sounds metaphorical, but it isn't. The dwarves - so reliant on the lyrium trade, living where lyrium grows, mining it, their livelihoods revolving around it - are quite literally lying in a pool of their own blood.

Solas sees what the dwarves are now compared to what they could have been. They're an imitation of their once-great ancestors. And it's his fault (and Mythal's, but this ain't about her). In this particular banter, Solas seems to pity the dwarves, hence Varric's warning, but he's the only one alive who knows the truth. The dwarves don't pity themselves: in another banter where Solas asks Varric if he misses the stone, Varric responds with "How could I miss what I never had?" - and that applies here as well. The dwarves may "twitch to give the appearance of life" to Solas, but that's his guilt talking. Varric isn't insulted (as far as we know) because he doesn't place much importance on his heritage and he understands that Solas isn't trying to be demeaning, but he hears the pity in his statements - he wouldn't warn him about speaking to the Carta otherwise.

Anyway this was a lot of rambling and I'd love to hear anyone else's interpretation of these or other lines too!

[writersrkive]

hi!! i just read your spencer fic about telling him not to shut up. i specifically loved the fact that the reader’s first language isn’t english, i feel like the majority of the fandom doesn’t have english as their first language.

could you write something where the reader’s first language isn’t english and they’re having trouble with their paperwork because people tend to use a lot of difficult words, and spencer notices it and helps them out? maybe reader often stays late to finish working because they need to read sentences multiple times to fully understand them?

if you don’t feel like writing this feel free to skip or write anything else <3

(it’s getting late for me here but i look forward to reading more of your work when i come back from work tomorrow :)

have a good day!!

A little help never hurts | Spencer Reid

summary: Paperwork days are hell, especially for you, since English isn't your first language. You don't say anything to any of your coworkers because you're afraid they will see you as incapable of doing your work, but one genius boy might have been looking at you a lot and definitely notices something is wrong. He is determined to help you. An extra help never hurts, right?

genre: fluff, comfort

pairing: early seasons!Spencer Reid x bau!reader

warnings: English isn't reader's first language, mention of reader being from another country (I think that's all, but let me know!)

a/n: Omg, my second request! I loved the idea, thanks! I hope you like it rebel-ezra (does this notify you when I answer your inbox or do I have to tag people when it's not anon? lol, sorry). I'm excited to see how much you enjoy this one, and I'm sorry if it's not as good as you expected. English isn't my first language, please be kind <3.

Happy New Year, reader! I hope you can get distracted a little with this fic if, if you need to. You did it! Next year we have more people, places and things to know, hugs!

important: Are you guys interested in being in a Criminal Mind's tag list for my fics? If that's the case, let me know in the comments, please. I might be doing one if there's enough people.

Masterlist Spanish ver. On Wattpad (coming soon)

The feeling of pressure on your head and the emptiness of your stomach has stressed you since a few hours ago. You didn't have anything to eat since the doughnut and cup of coffee that García offered you in the morning when she arrived. But you weren't close to going home.

Paperwork was always a pain in the ass, but especially for the poor newest member of the BAU. Why is that? Well, your mother language wasn't English, and of course you had a good level —otherwise you wouldn't have the opportunity to study and work in the U.S.A.—, but the documents were too formal and technical given the seriousness of the issues being discussed.

“Shit.” You whispered, typing a new confusing and complicated word on your computer for the third time in an hour.

“Hey, do you want to go to my place after work? Tonight seems like a free night, if duty doesn't call.” Emily had approached you with a warm smile, knowing that paperwork was never easy.

“Thanks, Em. But I think tonight I'm going home to rest. It's been a long week.” But you gave that answer because at that point, it was routine to stay way later than your workmates.

Spencer was coming back from the bathroom, ready to take his stuff and go home. It was really late, so he thought he was the only one besides Hotch in the office. However, he saw you at your desk: your head resting on a dictionary, the computer next to you and several post-it notes stuck in the drawers of your desk.

He called your name twice, but of course the sleep you were immersed in did not allow you to hear it. Footsteps were heard in the darkness. There were just a few desk lamps on, that's why he was able to see your peaceful expression. He touched your shoulder slightly and when you opened your eyes, all you saw was a shy smile.

“Reid, what's wrong?” You asked, feeling your head throbbing.

“Are you okay? You fell asleep.” He whispered.

“Oh… Yeah… I'm okay.”

“Are you sure? You seem pretty tired. It's late so maybe you should go home”

“Don't worry. I have work to get done anyway.” You sighed, remembering how you still had to review a quarter of documents.

“What? But you have been working on this for hours.”

His comment made you blush. Of course you haven't told anyone how hard it was to review every document twice or even thrice to be sure that you didn't misunderstand or mistranslate anything. Somehow you felt that if anyone knew they would criticize or mock you. Not that you thought about your coworkers being mean, but through your journey of learning another language and moving from your country, you met all kinds of people. Also, you didn't want to be seen as weak or incapable of doing your job.

“Today was just a lot, that's all.”

“You usually work quickly, though I think I know what's going on. You keep a dictionary on your desk and usually carry a pocket version in your backpack, the days when you leave work late are paperwork days and you usually close the translator tab on your computer as soon as someone approaches your desk.” He explained looking around your stuff as if he was analyzing everything. “Is it about the language?”

“Yes, yes it is, okay? There, I said it!” Your frustrated tone made Spencer realise how tired you were about the situation. You didn't even try to deny it, you just hid your face around your arms, leaning on your desk —as if you were recreating the position he found you asleep previously—.

“Hey, but what's wrong with that?” He asked softly.

“What do you mean ‘what's wrong with that'? I'm supposed to understand everything that is on the documents, but I become slower because I have to verify and translate information that I don't understand because it is a more technical language.” The words were audible enough to him even though your face was still hidden.

“Do you realize English isn't your first language, right?” He tried to get you to look at him, but it didn't work. “Everyone in this work has difficulties when it comes to other languages. You don't have to feel bad because it's happening to you.”

“Does it happen to you?” Your shy eyes met his.

“Not really.” He answered with a hint of a cocky smile.

“See?”

“Well, I didn't say anything about me, you were the one who asked. Besides, I'm trying to be more sociable.” His comment made you chuckle slightly, but that chuckle became a laugh when you repeated what he said in your mind. “You are really funny, do you know that?”

“A-Am I?” The way you were looking at him, with a tired, yet cute, expression and a little smile, made his heart skip a beat.

“Yeah…”

“Well, I can also be of great help at work. Let me help you with the files.”

“It's not necessary.”

“It is. You need to rest, so let me get started while you go to the machine for something to eat. A little help never hurts.” He whispered, already taking the documents.

“Fine.”

A few minutes later you returned with an open package of cookies. You stopped for a moment, admiring the furrowed eyebrows of the genius boy who was reading the files with a lot of attention. Then you realized how fortunate you were for having coworkers like him. Or maybe was he himself the one who was so amazing that you would never get tired of working with him.

“Agent. Can I talk with you for a second?” Hotch's voice welcomed you the next morning.

Spencer's view followed your figure to the boss’ office and that didn't go unnoticed by his best friend.

“Pretty boy had fun yesterday?” Derek teased.

“What?”

“You know… Penelope said that last night Hotch wasn't the only one who left work late. You and our new colleague had a date at work?” His strong arm embraced the other's shoulders.

“N-No! I thought we were the only ones… No! Nothing happened!” Spencer struggled to say.

“Reid, can we talk?” Your voice made him turn around. He just hoped you weren't angry.

“What is it? Is everything alright?” He asked when both of you walked into an empty hallway.

“Actually, yes. Apparently Hotch received a request from the team's genius profiler to work with me on my paperwork days. So, you are having trouble concentrating on the files because of some headaches and need someone to work with?” As you spoke your tone of voice slowly reflected, with a mocking tone, that you knew perfectly well why Spencer had spoken to Hotch.

“Am… Yeah. Headaches are the worst.” He whispered looking to the floor.

“Thanks, Spence.” You said with sincere gratitude. Spencer looked at you again and felt a weight lift off his shoulders when he realized that you weren't mad at him.

“Sure. Whatever you need, I'm here for you… as coworkers, of course!” His voice got a little higher when he clarified immediately.

You were about to walk past him to return with the others, but then he spoke again. “Do you think maybe we can go and have coffee on a free day? I mean, I can help you with the words that are difficult for you. And, actually, I was thinking that I might need help with your language too. We can help each other, you know?” He gulped.

“Sure. A little help never hurts.” You smiled and walked away hiding a smile while Spencer was left alone, standing in the middle of the hallway, unable to believe that he had just asked you out. “Hotch is gonna kill me if he finds out…”

[anyarose011]

Dimensions {Angus Tully x Reader}

Summary: What else is there to do after an emotional night than spill your darkest insecurities to someone you hated a week ago? Advice: Go bowling and to a movie afterwards so he'll tell you his.

Part 9 of ?? (Masterlist)

Warning(s): Long ass monologues you could use to audition for a school play, a good father figure, swearing, past miscarriages, past abandonment, descriptions of cancer, and descriptions of grief.

I’m just now realizing that all of my series has a dead mom. Guys, I’m not like Walt Disney I swear; my mom is alive and we have a great relationship 85% of the time. But anyway, hey pookiesss, here's my late Christmas/New Years gift! I really loved this chapter, and made it a little longer just to make up for the long time it took to get it out. Honestly...this may be the second to last chapter. We'll just have to see if I would want to write a long last chapter or not. Also, I would like to apologize for changing the title to the series (specifically to @riverdrowning for recommending it), but it's not my fault Jack Antonoff probably walked out of the movie and said "This would be a great song".

Word Count: 7.4k

The spaghetti wasn’t cooked all the way, the sauce covered half of the pasta, and the only good thing about the room service your stepfather ordered were the meatballs.

Maybe you should’ve just sucked it up and stayed at the diner.

You hadn’t seen Angus or your stepfather-fuck it, he was still your dad, the rest of the evening. You had shut yourself in your small hotel room, trying to console yourself with a warm bath and reading The Little Prince.

It helped a little bit, and you had barely had a break from crying that you thought you would sleep well that night.

Yet, as you laid on the bed and saw the digital clock read ‘1:00 AM’, that was when you sat up. Wrapping the spare blanket around yourself, you peeked behind the curtains of the window and just stared out it. There were a few people down on the streets of snowy Boston. Some were across the street sitting on a bench drinking and laughing, and some walking briskly with their hands in their pockets to escape the cold.

Your gaze then lingered on the door to your left by the desk; the door leading to Angus and your father’s room.

Taking a deep breath, you approached the door and carefully turned the handle. Luckily, the door didn’t creak as you opened it, and then stepped into the room. Just like yours, the only light was in the room was the streetlamps outside peering in through the window.

Your father slept with a pillow over his head, probably in an attempt to smother his snores for Angus sake. Your gaze then turned to the boy in question. He slept soundly on his side facing away from the window.

Tiptoeing, once you made it to his side, you gently shook him.

Angus hummed lightly before turning over and seeing you. He flinched for a moment, and you shushed him before whispering.

“Can I talk to you?”

He nodded. “Yeah, what’s up?”

You didn’t say anything; only took his hand in yours and helped him stand from his bed. The two of you quietly scurried back to your room, and shut the door. You sat on your bed, leaning against the headboard. You assumed Angus would’ve sat at the foot of it, but no, he sat beside you.

Silence filled the air between you, until, for the first time, it was Angus who broke the silence.

“You uh…you said you wanted to talk. Do you still wanna do that?”

“No,” you immediately answered. “but I know I have to.”

“You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to.”

“I mean I need to.” You sighed. “I’m sorry; I didn’t expect that I needed to tell you about…Daniel, but I should have.”

Angus shook his head. “It was none of my business. It’s a lot of bagage-.”

“-Can I just say everything first, please?” When you saw him nod, you continued with hesitance. “My mom did meet my father at Harvard, but she also met Paul. She…she was closer with him the whole time. They went on like one date their sophomore year, but she said it didn’t work out; apparently, he was too full of himself for her back then.” You both laughed.

Swallowing, you continued. “They were still friends, but my mom started dating Daniel her junior year. He had to repeat a year, and even then, barely passed that. It’s not that he was an idiot, he just didn’t want to do the work. Still, they got along, and after they graduated, they got married and moved to Boston. They wanted kids right away but…my mom had two miscarriages before having me a lot later. I-I wondered if he hated her because of that. Still, I remember growing up and Daniel was nice but…It’s stupid, there’d school stuff and he wouldn’t come. He’d say it was work, and I know that was probably the case, but I remember one night where I heard my mom yelling at him because he went to the bar with friends instead of a dance recital or something, I can’t remember.”

Your voice lowered as the memory resurfaced. “Mom got cancer when I was nine, and I think it was a few weeks after I heard something downstairs late at night. I got up and saw Daniel trying to go out the front door, suitcase in hand. I asked where he was going, all he said was that he loved me, and left. I woke Mom up…and she just cried. She cried so much I stopped crying with her and called Paul; Mr. Hunham.”

You wiped your face; tears were beginning to form but not fall. “Her parents lived in Pennsylvania, so there was no one else I could call. They were still friends even after he left Harvard. She invited him to family stuff and was basically my uncle. It was like one in the morning, I don’t know. Barton’s an hour away, but he got there in twenty minutes. I don’t know how he wasn’t pulled over. He took a week off from Barton and just stayed with us. After that, he’d make the one hour commute everyday for a few months. Every few weeks in the mail there’d be the same letter with a toy train stamp. I didn’t know this, but my mom and dad were only talking through letters, and they were getting a divorce. I didn’t even know it happened until she sat me down and told me that they did. It-it was late at night, and I just kept crying. It was over that, yeah, but-but I remember saying that I was scared Mr. Hunham was going to leave.”

Angus slipped his hand into yours, but didn’t say anything. He didn’t expect you to let out a pitiful laugh before continuing. “I was almost nine when he asked how we’d feel about moving into a house in Barton with him. I said no because I genuinely thought the only way we could live together was if my mom and him got married. So I told him that, and later, he pulled me aside saying that he promised he’d at least ask her, but wanted to give her time. I…I don’t know why I trusted him, but I did. We moved to Barton, had a small house that we only lived in for two years…and I think it was my favorite place. I drive by that house sometimes…and I really miss it.”

He squeezed your hand as if to let you know that he was still listening.

“Mary became a family friend, Curtis became my best friend…you know the rest. Mom would get better, then worse, then better again, and it just repeated. And my dad…Paul, he was good; he was really good, especially for her. It wasn’t even a year later when he asked me if he could marry her. Of course, I said yes. There wasn’t a huge wedding; it was just the three of us, Mary and Curtis, and my mom’s parents.” You chuckled, wiping your eyes. “Curtis was the ring bearer, and I was the flower girl. The men were all getting lunch together while we were getting my mom ready at church, and my grandpa wanted to see my mom’s ring so he took it from Curtis, but he dropped it down the gutter!”

“No!” Agnus laughed.

“He did! So we got two old guys freaking out, they told poor Curtis to go to the chapel and tell Mary, but he instead tells me, and my immediate response was to go to the drugstore and beg for change to buy a plastic dinosaur ring.”

“You’re lying.”

“No, I’m not!” You had to stifle your giggles. “We told Mom about the ring, but then gave her the plastic one and thought it’d be fine. She marched to the diner of course, rollers still in her hair and all. She showed them the ring, raising her voice; but, in the end, all we could do was laugh. We got someone to go down and get the actual ring, and the wedding went on…I remember she…I remember she told me that she loved every second of it more than she ever did her first wedding…She wore that plastic ring to the grave.”

There was no sound at all in your room, all but your breathing steadying out from your crying. It felt as if the world knew you needed silence.

Angus spoke up. “I would’ve like to meet her.”

“She would’ve liked you.”

“You don’t have to say that-.”

“-No,” You cut him off. “she would’ve; I wouldn’t bullshit that.”

He looked away as if it was too much. Still, he held onto you as he slunk down to lie on the bed. You followed his lead.

“She probably would’ve helped your dad not have a stick up his ass this Christmas.” He said.

You bit your tongue to not burst out in laughter but grinned from ear to ear up at the ceiling. “He still would’ve had one, but not so much.”

Angus nodded then drew his eyes up to the ceiling away from you. “You don’t-you don’t have to talk about it, but…could I ask about Daniel?”

You sighed. “He showed up to Mom’s funeral with his new pregnant wife, and we only really said hello and that was it. I can’t really remember, but I think his wife tried to talk more, but I didn’t want to. He still lived in Boston, and I never heard from him again until this past August. He sent a letter about wanting to reconnect, and I…I was stupid.” You confessed. “I didn’t want to say anything to him, but I don’t know why, I wrote him a letter and we’d just go from there. It was nothing serious, just talking about our lives. Then he started sending money; I guess he was trying to buy my forgiveness. He wanted to meet up, that was the letter you gave my dad; and no, he didn’t want us to meet at the diner.”

“I never thought that.”

“Just wanted to make sure.”

Angus reached over, placing his hand on your cheek to have you look at him. “You shouldn’t have had to deal with his shit all this time.”

“I know.” You responded exhaustedly. “I just…fuck.”

“Yeah…fuck.” The two of you fell into silence; awkward yet somehow also soothing. He soon broke it, asking. “How’re you doing now?”

“My eyes hurt from crying, but thanks for listening.”

He nodded. “Yeah, I care about you.”

It felt strange to hear that. You knew enough from your father and Mary that they would go to the ends of the earth for you; they never had to say it aloud. Still, while the foreign feeling settled in your chest like a weight, it soon eased within you as you tossed your arms around him.

“You’re the best thing that could’ve happened to me this Christmas.” You whispered.

You felt him stiffen at your words, and for a moment, you thought you said too much. Then, he sighed into your hold, encircling your waist with his arms and pulling you closer.

“I’m glad I got stuck with you and not Kountze.”

“You piece of shit.” You snickered, pressing your face into the crook of his neck.

“I’ll wake you up when I gotta go back.”

“Don’t.” You shook your head, still holding onto him. “I’m gonna sleep really well from bawling my eyes out.”

He kissed your cheek. “I hope so.”

“Night, Angus.”

He wished you a goodnight, whispering your name so tenderly.

You were right; you did sleep well. So well, it wasn’t the light outside that woke you up, but a knock on the connecting door. Looking over at your side, you saw that Angus was not there; which relieved you more than disheartened you.

Tossing yourself out of bed, you opened the door, revealing your father.

“Morning, sweetheart.” He greeted. “How are you feeling?”

“My eyes still hurt a little,” you answered honestly. “but better.”

He hummed. “I ordered breakfast, would you want to get dressed and join us?”

“Sure.” You closed the door and went to change into your favorite outfit. You brought it into the bathroom, and when you stripped your nightgown off, you saw the faintest red patch in your underwear.

“Fuck.” You mumbled. Out of all the days your period could have started…at least you had packed a few things for it.

After you were ready, and after tying in one of the ribbons Angus had gotten you, you knocked on the door to let them know you were coming in, and entered the room. Angus sat on his bed, eating a plate of toast and sausages.

“How are you?” He asked immediately upon your presence.

You shrugged, loading up a plate and sitting on the bed with him. “Okay.”

The three of you sat there, eating. Again, there was a hint of discomfort in it; as if none of you slept as well as you could have, and you were too tired to make conversation. Still, in the silence, you found yourself waking up.

When breakfast was finished, you all decided to go bowling at an alley you and your mother frequented when you used to live in Boston. The weather, although still bitter cold, wasn’t as bad as it had been for the past few days, leading to you taking the subway and walking instead of splurging on another taxi.

It’d been a while since you bowled, but you were better than you remembered; albeit, not great, but your ball wasn’t going in the gutter every round. Unlike your father.

Leave it to Angus to teach his own teacher how to properly bowl. It was funny for you to sit back and watch. In many movies you watched as a teenager, it was always the boy to teach the pretty girl how to bowl; never the girl’s stepfather who is also the boy’s teacher.

“Not bad,” your father laughed once he hit a few pins. “you’re a pretty good teacher, kid. Too bad everybody dislikes you; pretty much hates you. But you must know that, right?”

You turned to Angus, smirking as if to say: ‘Now how does it feel?’. He nodded, trying not to smile. “Touché sir, touché. By the way, what eye do you aim with anyway? You know, I’ve been meaning to ask, when were talking, which one should I look at? Sometimes, I look at one,” he pointed. “but then I think I’m wrong, so I look at the other.”

Your father nodded, obviously uncomfortable but not inexperienced with the question. “Yes, everybody does that. My wife did it for a whole month after I met her.”

“So, which is it?” He laughed.

Mr. Hunham shrugged, turning to you. “Don’t you tell him.”

You mimed zipping your lips and locking them before throwing away the key. He nodded, going to take his turn.

Angus snapped his gaze to you, saying your name and drawing out the last syllable.

“Yes, Angus?” You asked.

“Tell me.”

“No.”

Your father came over soon after, saying. “I’m going to go get a drink, behave yourselves, and you can play for my turns.”

“Can I have some vodka?” You asked.

He answered, walking away. “When you’re in Europe or you’re twenty-one.”

You sighed, looking at Angus. “We’re in agreement we’re gonna screw up his bowls on purpose, right?”

“Only if you tell me which eye to look at.”

“The right one.”

“His right or my right?”

“Yes.”

He snickered. “You’re impossible.”

Getting up, you made your way to grab your ball. “Yeah, but that’s why you like me, I think.”

You bowled your set, getting a spare to your surprise and turning in victory. Angus got up, getting his own ball, waiting for the pins to come back.

“It’s one of them,” he said. “but I can handle you.”

They were simple words, and you know he probably didn’t mean for them to mean anything to you, but they did. Still, you wanted to have fun; you spent all of the night and early morning weeping, you wanted to laugh in the day.

You stayed standing as he took his turn, and he immediately got a strike. When he looked at you with the same shit-eating grin he always gave, you took one of the balls off the dispenser.

“So, what else do you like about me?” You asked, playing.

“Absolutely nothing.”

“You said that me being impossible was one of the things,” you crouched down and simply placed the bowling ball in the gutter. “so, there must be at least something else.”

Angus hummed. “You play fairly.”

Laughing as you stood, you and Angus watched as the ball was slowly beginning to approach the pins. When it quickly became boring, you both sat down back at the chairs, writing down all of your scores. As Angus was penciling in the boxes, you looked back to your father at the bar, chatting with two men. Hopefully he was making friends.

Then, when you heard light giggling, you compulsively turned to your left and saw two girls your age staring at your table. The second your eyes met theirs, they looked away in the blink of your eye.

They’d been doing that the whole damn time since you came to the alley. Your selfish yet hormonal teenage brain thought it was because of you eating utter shit at bowling, then when the fog cleared, you saw that their eyes would be on Angus.

Of course they probably assumed you were his sister or cousin or something. Because in what circumstances would a girl bring her dad and her boyfriend along? Wait shit…you weren’t technically his girlfriend; you talked about that the night before, but you had much direr things to attend to, so no shit you couldn’t talk about-.

“You okay?”

You pulled on a smile at Angus’ question, turning your head to him. “Yeah, just thought I saw something.”

His eyes went to the girls behind you for just a second before landing on yours. He took your face into his hands and pressed a kiss on your forehead.

You chuckled, pulling away. “What was that for?

“Just wanted to see if you had a temperature.”

“Why?” You began to retie your bowling shoes. “Because I’m hot?”

“Well…” He drew off, and you looked up at him with a questioning look until he sputtered out. “Jealousy’s a sickness, that’s why-.”

“-Angus!” You laughed louder than you thought possible, shaking your head.

“You’re hot too!” He tried to defend, finding your laughing contagious. “I don’t know why I said that.”

“Yeah, you do.”

“Yeah, I do.” He sat farther back in his chair, and you leaned against him, resting your head on his shoulder. He glanced back, then at you. “Your dad might see.”

“Do you care?”

“I mean…maybe.” He admitted. “If he’ll drop kick me into next Tuesday, then yeah.”

You sat up yet tossed your legs over his lap. “This better?”

He smiled, draping his arm over your chair. “Yeah.”

And you both sat like that for another minute until you realized that it was technically your father’s turn, and there was no way in hell you were going to let him come back and knock a few pins down.

Once he returned, and you finished the rest of your game, there was debate on going to a movie or just going to lunch. Considering this was a vacation, you opted for the more exciting of the two and decided to risk getting sick from eating a lot of popcorn; but hey, it was still food.

The only movie that seemed interesting was Little Big Man. The theater was packed as the three of you sat down, and even without knowing anything about it, the movie was pretty good. It certainly impressed your father.

“This is not only amusing,” he whispered to you sitting in between him and Angus. “but for a movie, it’s a fairly accurate depiction of life among the Cheyenne.”

Somebody shushed him before you could, only for him to whisper. “Fuck off.”

You bit your tongue to smother your laughter. Another minute passed, and you felt Angus’ mouth hover over your ear.

“Meet me out in the lobby in a few minutes.”

Before you could even turn to him, he got out of his seat and whispered to your dad. “I’m going to the bathroom.”

He nodded, not thinking anything of it. You, on the other hand, felt your body grow simultaneously cold and warm at the same time. What could he possibly have had in mind? You had an idea of course, but the thought of…doing that in public or just in general caused your stomach to tie in a million knots. Still, you had to tell him that yourself.

After what you thought was long enough, you also stood. “I gotta go to the bathroom.”

That was when your father sat up. He sighed your name. “Now, I know there’s been something going on between the two of you, but-.”

“-I’m on my cycle...” Was all you could think to say. “I’m bleeding.”

Didn’t know why you said the second half and neither did your father, but that was enough for him to stop. “Oh…do you need anything?”

“You to stop talking.”

He did, leaving you to rush out of the theater. You found Angus in the lobby, and he took your hand without saying anything. Oh, but you certainly did.

“I’m not doing anything.” You stated.

He glanced over at you, heading towards the exit. “Huh?”

That’s when you stopped you and him in your tracks yet still held his hand. “I’m on my period, and even if I wasn’t, I would still beat your ass if you-.”

“-Oh my god, no!” He cut you off. “I don’t…look,” he rested his hands on your shoulders. “I haven’t been honest. I’m a prick for not telling you sooner, and I wanted to say something last night, but it wasn’t about me.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Just trust me.” He led you outside, and you were welcomed to a line of waiting taxis. Angus immediately began making a beeline to the farthest one.

You pulled yourself out of his grasp, saying all the way. “What the fuck? No! What are you doing?!”

“I’ll explain on the way.” He turned to you, huffing. “Just please-.”

“-No! You’re telling me right here and now.”

“Hey!”

Your heads snapped over to the theater, where you father was then sprinting across the street and over to both of you. Angus got into the taxi before you could even say anything, only for you then to yank the door open when your father finally came by.

“Get out.” He commanded.

“I just need to do something.” Angus resisted. “We were gonna come back-.”

“-Where the hell were we even going?!” You fired back.

He didn’t even acknowledge you. “I can go on my own. It won’t take long, it’s nothing bad.”

“So why’d you even ask me in the first place?”

“Stop it!” Your father had enough, then looked at Angus. “Just get out, you conniving little shit! Were you planning this the whole time? Just counting the minutes until I turned my back?”

“I wasn’t running away.” Angus softened, the pain in his voice only growing with each word. “There’s just something I need to do before we go back to school. Please. You could come with me, just come with me, okay?”

“Come with you where?”

“…To see my dad.”

Your heart began to crack like ice on a river in the early days of spring. If only he had told you earlier, you would have gone without a second guess.

“Your dad?” Your own father sighed. “That’s what this is about? What didn’t you just ask me? Because, of course, we can visit a cemetery.”

Slowly, Angus dropped his gaze from both of you. You thought his disbelief was from your father saying ‘yes’, but then tears began to fall, and it didn’t even look like he knew they were. You crouched to his height, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder.

“What’s wrong?”

He shook his head, not looking at you. “He’s not dead.”

The crack in your heart spontaneously shattered it just with three little words. Still, you had to ask with one.

“What?”

“He’s at Pinehills…”

You dropped your hand from him. The sanatorium…you’d never been, only heard of it once or twice. Your father read your shock and spoke for you.

“Okay, we’ll go. Scoot over.”  Angus did so, and your father sat in the middle, looking up at you. “Come on.”

As if you weren’t in your own body, you shook your head. “I-I think I’ll walk back-.”

“-We’re not splitting up,” he said your name gently. “that’s final. Get in.”

You didn’t put up much of a fight, and sat down, shutting the door.

Leaning against the glass, you watched as Boston, once again, passed by you. The car was deathly silent. In situations like this, you would at least look around you, but no; you couldn’t even muster the strength to lift your head, and you felt yourself beginning to cramp.

Skyscrapers soon turned into trees farther out of the city you drove. The sanatorium was just a large stone building, more like a prison than a hospital. After your father paid the driver, the three of you entered.

As your dad spoke to the receptionist, Angus slipped his hand into yours.

You swiftly pulled it away, not even meeting his eyes.

An orderly came out and led the three of you up a set of stairs. You stopped in front of a door, and the orderly gave just a single look to you and your father. You kept your head low, but your father nodded at Angus, and the boy entered with the orderly.

You and your father sat in the waiting room on a bench together, saying nothing. The whiplash of the entire day began to weigh on your shoulders, and so did the entirety of the night prior. The tightening in your lower abdomen only added to everything, and it was your father’s hand on your back that made you break.

“Are you okay?” He questioned.

 “I have to go to the bathroom.”

You stood up and ignored his pleas as he followed after you. Just as you were outside of the woman’s restroom, a stabbing pain struck you like a flash of lighting. Doubling over yourself, you clutched where your uterus lay, tears springing free as you sunk to the floor.

“Hey, hey,” your dad rubbed your shoulders, kneeling in front of you. “what is it?”

“It hurts.” You sobbed.

“Period?” He asked. You could only nod. He turned to a nurse who approached the commotion. “Does the hospital have anything help with the pain? Tylenol?”

“I have some in my purse.” She raced down the hall.

Your father shushed you, holding you tightly. “I know, I know. She’ll be back soon.”

“It-it’s not just that.” You hiccupped.

He ran his hand up and down your back. “What else is it?”

“I-I-I-I.” you stammered.

“Breathe,” he said. “just breathe.”

You copied him when he inhaled deeply, then exhaled softly. When you felt air returning to your lungs, you finally found your words.

“I hate him.” You hiccupped. “I hate that he left mom, and-and that he didn’t want to talk to me until now, and-and-and that he brought his stupid wife and his stupid kids that won’t do anything with their life because they’re just as dumb as he is! I-I hate that Mary’s alone, and-and that Curtis is dead, and that he even had to go in the first place! I hate that he lied, and that he said we would be friends, but he didn’t-he didn’t even tell me this, but I told him everything.”

Your father rocked you back and forth ever so subtly as you cried. He rubbed circles into your shoulder. “You’ve had a lot going on, haven’t you?”

You nodded.

He pulled away only slightly, just so you could look at him. “I’m sorry. I don’t think I’ve protected you as much as I should have, and even then, some of these things, I couldn’t; no matter how much I’d give to. You are…god,” he said your name. “you are your mother’s daughter. I hate that so much of you and her strength have had to come from people who hurt you; and I wish I could tell you this is the last time you’ll have to feel like this, but I don’t want to lie to you. But, I just want you to know, and I mean this with my whole heart: I wouldn’t be able to overcome the things you are handling right now when I was your age. Girls are forced and socialized to grow up faster than boys; it’s not solely a biological factor, it’s also a societal one, and it’s not fair. I don’t know if it matters, but I’m so proud of who you have become; raging spirit and all.”

You still were crying, but not just in sorrow; now, overwhelming adoration was added. Wiping your nose on your sleeve, you sat against the wall.

“Why didn’t he tell us?” You asked.

“I don’t entirely know,” he sat beside you. “but I believe shame is the main part.”

“He lied.” You shook your head. “I wouldn’t have judged him if he told the truth.”

“Would you have told him about Daniel if he didn’t show up?”

You went silent, already knowing your answer. Sighing, you rested your head on his shoulder. “I’m going to mourn Mom and Curtis longer than I’ll have known them…and if I think about that too much, I can’t sleep.”

Your father leaned his head on top of yours. “Then I’ll be mourning with you, and so will Mary.”

“Until you won’t be.”

“Then you’ll mourn with your husband, your children, your friends, hell, mourn with ten cats and dogs if you don’t have any of those other things later on in life.”

That managed to crack a smile. “Shut up.”

“It’s not human nature for us to be alone.” He said. “Even to those so called ‘antisocials’ or ‘loners’. You will always have someone to share a life with; even if it is those copious amounts of animals you’ll have.”

The nurse came by finally, holding a few pills in her hand, and a glass of water in another. “Sorry I took so long.”

You shook your head, taking them from her. “Just in time, thanks.”

Swallowing the Tylenol, you gave her the glass and she walked away. Your father stood up and reached his hand out to you. You took it and stood up, wiping the tears off your face.

“Do I look like shit?” You asked.

He shook his head. “You look like your mother.”

The two of you walked back down the hallway, and when you turned the corner, you saw Angus come out of the room he had gone into previously. He turned over to his left and he locked eyes with you first.

His eyes were red, yet no tears had fallen.

You left your father’s side and walked down the hallway, enveloping your arms around Angus. He latched onto you as soon as he felt your touch, and only then, hiding his face in your shoulder, did you hear him cry for the first time.

The three of you left the same when you entered; although, worse for wear. Angus mirrored what you had done prior to coming; staring out the window and not looking at anything else the whole time.

You had gone to a fancier restaurant as a final ‘hurrah’ of your Boston field trip, and to finally see Mary again after two long days without her. The three of you were quiet at the table, only truly talking when the waitress came. Your father attempted to make conversation, but it was apparent, after the days you both had, neither you nor Angus were in the mood.

Yet, after it seemed like you would all be silent until Mary arrived…

“He used to be fine; better than fine.” Angus began, staring down at the table before looking up. “He was my dad. Then about four years ago, he started acting strange; like, erratic, forgetful, saying all this weird shit. My mom took him to a bunch of doctors, and they put him on medication. But that just made it worse. He got more confused. And then he got angry, and then he got...physical. And that was the last straw. They put him away. Then she divorced him. Without him even realizing it. That’s why she wants a whole new life. And it’s easy to just stash me away in a boarding school, like half of us there are just stashed away. And I get it; she never has to look at me, because maybe when she looks at me, she…she sees him.”

You held his hand under the table the whole time, not knowing what else to do.

Your father shook his head at the statement Angus made. “No, no, no, no. That can’t be true, she…you’re her son.”

“Maybe she’s right.” Angus shook his head too. “I can’t keep it together. I lie, I steal, I piss people off. I only have one friend, a real friend, and even then I was a piece of shit, I’ll probably get kicked out of Barton too; and when I do, it’ll be my own fault. Get sent to Fork Union and maybe to you-know-where; and nobody will care.”

Except you would. You would lose someone else a second, horrible time. The thought alone brought tears to your eyes, but you forced them away; this wasn’t about you.

“And the funny thing is…” Angus trailed off. “I wanted to see him so bad this whole time….But I also didn’t, you know? Because I’m afraid that’s what’s gonna happen to me one day.”

“Angus,” your dad soothed. “listen. You’re not your father.”

“How do you know?”

“Because no one is their own father.” He shook his head. “I’m not my dad, no matter how hard he tried to beat that idea into me. The girl you’re sitting next to is neither me nor her biological father, and I’m thankful for both every day.” His eyes began to drift. “I find the world a bitter and complicated place, and it seems to feel the same way about me. I think we all have this in common. Don’t get me wrong, you have your challenges. You’re erratic and belligerent and a gigantic pain in the balls, but you’re not me, and you’re not your father. You’re your own man.” He scoffed, rewording. “Man. No. You’re just a kid. You’re just beginning. And you’re smart. You’ve got time to turn things around.”

You and Angus stared at him as if he was a priest giving the best sermon of his life. He went on.

“Sure, the Greeks had the idea that the steps you take to avoid your fate are the very steps that lead to it, but that’s just a literary conceit. In real life, your history does not have to dictate your destiny.” He looked over at you specifically. “And I hope you know this too, Josephine March; this isn’t just a boy’s club philosophy.”

You grinned from ear to ear. “Noted.”

He returned your smile, and then his eyes fell behind you. “Oh, there’s Mary.”

You and Angus looked over and saw her entering. Angus said. “Can you not tell Mary or anybody about-.”

“-Entre nous.” Your father interrupted. “This whole damn trip is entre nous. Stand up.”

“What?” You both uttered.

“Stand for the lady, you boors. You cretins.”

You did as you were asked, and Mary sat down once she was at the table.

“Thank you, sorry I’m late.” She squeezed your shoulder as she sat by you. “How’re you doing?”

“Fine.” You smiled. “Just happy you’re here.”

The host handed Mary the menu and the waitress came back. “Hello ma’am, would you like a cocktail to start?”

“Oh no, I’ll just take a cup of tea.” Mary said.

“Oh, come on, have a cocktail.” Your father insisted.

“No, no, a cup of tea is fine, I’ve eaten already.”

“And you three?” She asked the rest of you. “Did you save room for dessert?”

Your gaze drifted over to a nearby table where the waiter was holding a saucepan completely on fire. You asked. “What’s that?”

“That’s out signature dessert, cherries jubilee.”

Angus smiled, just as entranced as you were. “That sounds great.”

Your father laughed. “Bring the young vandals here cherries jubilee.”

She made a face. “I’m afraid I can’t; the dish contains brandy.”

If you had half a mind like some people you knew (Teddy, Daniel, the majority of the male population, etc.), you would have said aloud: “I’ve had stronger shit than that.”

“Yeah, but doesn’t the alcohol just burn off?” Mary asked as if she wasn’t an excellent cook.

“It’s still against the rules, ma’am.”

“Fine,” your father sighed. “I’ll order the cherries jubilee, we can share it.”

“I can’t allow that either.”

Mary pointed between you and Angus. “Can we say it’s their birthday?”

“Yeah, we’re twins!” You leaned over so your face and Angus’s were side by side. “It’s our birthday.”

She chuckled. “Happy birthday. Let’s get you two slices of cake or some other age-appropriate desserts.”

“Christ on a crutch!” Your dad cursed. “What kind of fascist hash foundry are you running here?”

Mary put her hand on his arm to stop him from further pissing off the waitress. “Excuse me ma’am, do you by any chance have cherries?”

“…Yes.” She answered.

“Great, and do you have ice cream?”

“Yes.”

“Fantastic, can we please get cherries and ice cream to go?”

“And the check?” Your father added.

“Right away.”

Once she was out of sight, Mary muttered. “Bitch.”

You snickered. “Hey don’t swear; Jesus was born two days ago.”

“If Jesus had to deal with her, he’d say the same thing.” She sighed.

“Now who’s committing blasphemy?!”

When the check was brought alongside the cherries and ice cream, the four of you put on your coats and left; not without you and Angus grabbing enough spoons. In the parking lot, your father opened the box and poured the remaining bourbon out of his flask.

“Is this a good idea?” You asked, only then realizing you would have to light a box on fire.

“No Josephine,” your father said. “it’s a great idea. Go on.”

Mary, with a cigarette in her mouth, stroke a match and dropped it onto the dessert. It burst into flames.

“Presto! Cherries Jubilee!”

“Cool!” You cheered. “How do we eat it?”

“It should go out…”

It did not go out; instead, the box actually caught on fire.

Mary gasped. “How much alcohol did you put in there?!”

A series of curses all left your lips, and your father tried to grab a flap of one of the boxes but let go of the heat. It fell onto the concrete, but when there was no sighn of danger, you all looked at each other in a beat of silence, then laughed.

Once the failed cherries jubilee went out, all of you just decided to get ice cream at the hotel. Mary would be sleeping there that night since you would leave in the morning. Once you reached the hotel, and the four of you were walking two by two (you with your dad and Mary with Angus), you lowered your voice.

“I need to talk with Angus.” You told your dad. “Just for a second outside. We’re not gonna run away or anything-.”

“-I know.” He said. “Just maybe keep it down to a few minutes? It’s freezing and I want to go to bed.”

You nodded and stopped once you were right outside the hotel. You grabbed Angus’ arm to stop him and he looked at you with a quizzical look. When she noticed her companion wasn’t behind her, Mary also looked at you.

You smiled. “I just need to steal him for a minute.”

She hummed. “Don’t be too long, I want my ice cream.”

“Yes ma’am.”

Both adults went into the hotel, leaving you and Angus outside. It wasn’t as cold as everyone was making it out to be; but hey, Mary and your dad were old so that’s probably why.

“What do you wanna talk about?” Angus asked.

“You got a cigarette?”

He seemed a bit confused at first, but nodded, taking out a pack and handing you one. He got out a lighter from his other pocket, lighting it for you. You took a few puffs before handing it to him, and he took it, thanking you.

“I’m sorry.” You began.

Angus furrowed his brow. “Why?”

“At the hospital,” you explained, taking the cigarette when he handed it back. “I pulled my hand away from you. You were hurting and I was a bitch about it.”

He shook his head. “I lied to you.”

“You did, but that doesn’t mean I should’ve reacted that way.” You sighed. “I was just…I didn’t have a lot of friends growing up, even before I was homeschooled. The friends I did have would make plans to meet up without me in front of me, or would make snide comments about my hair, the books I liked, stupid stuff like that. I was kind of a know it all in class, so I don’t blame them that much, but still. And I…I never knew anyone else who’d lost a parent; at least, I wasn’t close with anyone who did. And I’m…I’m glad your dad is alive; I was just really blindsided.”

Angus nodded, taking the cigarette from you. After taking a drag, he paused before saying. “I told him about you.”

“You did?”

“Yeah…about what I liked about you.” He smiled gently. “That you’re smarter than me, you’re funny, nice-.”

“-I’m not really.”

“Yes, you are.”

“Then so are you,” You countered, leaning against the wall and taking the cigarette. “and I don’t know why you keep insisting you aren’t.”

He mirrored you. “…I don’t know either.”

You dropped the cigarette once it was finished, stomping it out. “For the record, I think you’re really sweet.”

He snorted. “Now that’s funny.”

“Will you shut up for a second?” You sighed. “You don’t have to be Audrey Hepburn. I mean, shit, you got me a book just because I couldn’t find mine. You…you put up with the bullshit I gave you early on, and didn’t judge me about Daniel. So don’t you dare tell me you’re not sweet.”

He nodded, staring up at the sky, and for a moment, you thought you saw tears prick his eyes the more you went on. When you were finished, he wrapped his arms around you without warning. Still, it was not unwelcome.

“I’m sorry.” He whispered. “I should have told you.”

“I get why you didn’t.”

“No, it wasn’t fair to you.”

It wasn’t, he was right about that. Still, how could you hold it against him? With a sigh, all you said was.

“Mothers and fathers…”

He nodded. “Mothers and fathers.”

His mom shipped him off to boarding school to forget about him, his dad was essentially dead to the world around him.

Your mother was dead period, and your father wanted to forget about you when you didn’t want to forget about him…

A strange parallel you two were. Perhaps you were always meant to find one another out of the billions of people on earth.

“Could I ask you something?” Angus spoke up. You hummed in response. “Do you want to be my girlfriend?”

He asked as if he genuinely didn’t know the answer.

You pulled away, kissing his cheek. “As long as you don’t pretend I’m not when everyone comes back to school.”

“Never thought of it.”

The two of you stayed there in each other’s arms for just a little longer. When you both decided it was time to go in, you separated and walked hand in hand back into the hotel.

[homestuckreplay]

The Final Homestuck Update of 2009

(page 1082-1088; some general Dave and Rose thoughts)

I can’t believe Dave would pour some apple juice out for Cal. That’s his favorite drink, the king of juices, and not easy for Dave to come by. But Dave sucks unfortunately, and I was such a hater reading this update for the first time, because this absolute idiot is more concerned with his relationship with a torn up puppet who he only pretends to like than with his actual close friend who is in danger. Dave is okay in the small doses of pesterlogs and flashes, but I genuinely think part of the reason I’ve loved Act 3 so much up til now is because I haven’t had to deal with Dave’s bullshit, and I really hope this isn’t the start of an extended Dave section.

It’s good to get a glimpse of Rose on page 1088 – and Vodka Mutini, the tiny sleeping void – right at the end. She’s spent this entire comic so focused on getting people to play Sburb, helping John play Sburb, and finding ways to reconnect to John in order to play more Sburb. She’s basically always doing something and trying to solve a problem, and seems happiest when she’s busy, even if being busy involves actually making things worse (see: ripping out crucial parts of John’s house or dropping them into the abyss) and now suddenly she seems hopeless. There’s more she could do – it would be smart to create defined spaces for the cruxtruder, totem lathe and alchemiter, and mark them out for Dave, for example – but this feels like a moment where when she stops crisis response for even a second, the reality of the situation sets in and she can’t spring back into action.

The thing is, having seen Rose work really hard for hundreds of pages to at least try to help John, Dave on the surface looks really bad by comparison. And I’m trying to figure out how much of that is real – how much is Dave messing around with his sylladex, thinking about his possessions, and texting his friends more than Rose did – and how much is just their self-image. Rose definitely wants to seem like she’s smart, competent, level-headed, and capable of saving people from world ending threats, so she plays up those aspects of herself, and it’s easier to overlook a moment where she plays the violin for 40 seconds of the two minutes she has left (p.222) or reads her grimoire for no practical purpose (p.301-5) or considers passive-aggressive ways to get back at her mother (p.373-4), etc.

Conversely, Dave wants to seem like he’s cool, detached, ironically self-aware, and like he’s not overinvested in his friendships, so a scene like today’s where he’s fucking around with his sylladex reinforces this, and works like confirmation bias. It’s easy to skim over the fact that Dave just put himself in danger of physical pain and social ridicule from an authority figure, just to get these games for Rose, just on her word without evidence of her situation. Dave said ‘if you ever find yourself in the position where your life depends on me playing that piece of shit game, then ill play’ (p.333) and he didn’t say that ironically, he meant it when the time came. So it’s frustrating that he’s still talking about his bro’s ‘mysterious ways’ (p.1085) and that he wasted so much time gathering weapons that he didn’t end up using, but looking back, I don’t think Dave is actually handling this situation worse than Rose is. She was just more attuned to the specifics and urgency of the situation.

I think that all four kids have their surface image, and that Dave and Rose consciously construct theirs while John and Jade don’t realize they’re doing it. I think all four have a deeper layer to their personalities that is specifically intended by the author, although different readers might make different inferences about what that is. And I think that all four kids are really convincing with their surface image a lot of the time – they fool each other, they fool their guardians, and they fool the reader, because so much of Homestuck (including the narrative text) is written in their voices without much external commentary. I know I’ve fallen into the trap with all of them at times where I take them at their word and I’m sure if I was actually friends with them, I’d do it even more, so it’s a clever reflection of actual social relationships and the disconnects that actually exist between people. Especially when those people are young, traumatized, and have such different lives that it’s hard to fully comprehend each other’s.

And I can remind myself of this stuff all day but it does not change the base emotional response of: I love Rose and I don’t like Dave.

So overall, this is not my favorite way Homestuck could have ended 2009, but there’s always going to be disappointing updates and characters that I like less; we can’t get a page 1073 every day. And I know that some people love Dave and are thrilled to see him back. Even so, tabbing to the next page in Homestuck and getting Dave feels to me like biting into a delicious looking cake and getting mayonnaise instead of frosting, and holy shit, now I’m wondering if Dad did that to John as a prank once and that ties into his bad experience with cake. That’s totally an Egbert style prank.

> Dave: Make an April 14th’s Resolution to be an open and honest person.

[repressionmd]

hi!! this looked so fun and was honestly such a confidence boost i hadnt realised that 1. i'd written so much and 2. a thousand kudos and three hundred bookmarks is SO many. wow. thank you to everyone you've made my last couple of months so amazing <3

(specifically last couple of months because i only started writing in. mid september 😭)

here's a little overview of my fics in chronological order :)

let's not linger around another day: canon divergence from s3e22 when wilson is on speed and in house's apartment: what if they kissed?

this fic is so special to me for being inspired by a chance interaction with someone who has become such a close friend (shoutout @defibrillism for restarting my writing career), for being the first thing i wrote for house and for the honest to god overwhelming reaction i got for it. like. i was expecting nothing and got.. this.

like. what in the world. life changing. stunning. im still in awe.

2. i'll wait for your love: wilson gets sick and has a raging migraine, and house comes to help. (also wilson accidentally confesses his love and house reciprocates not realising wilson is semi-lucid and also they share a bed eventually. because why not <3)

somehow i posted this literally the day after the first one. how did that happen. HOW. the power those old men had over me... (well. my headmate. but still)

3. this thing is supposed to be give-and-take: house accidentally goes too far and hurts himself and calls wilson. in which i ruminate on wilson's depression and his relationship with house, and how house is cruel (whether purposefully or not) through actions but wilson uses words.

this fic has my favourite lines i think, out of all of them

He focused on bandaging House's arm, making a mental note to refill his car's first aid kit. It was basically House's first aid kit. He never used it for anyone else. Either way. Needed restocking. Because this could happen again. It probably would. Because you just proved, again, that you'll get up whenever, go wherever, and come to fix him. Because he refuses to get actual help, so you're left to pick up the pieces.

also i just loved writing the dialogue for this. they're really raw and honest with each other and for once, house is on the back foot. i think its absolutely fascinating that house knows everything about everyone except wilson. wilson can keep shit from house like no one else.

and it took top spot in my heart over the kutner lives fic purely because it genuinely came to me out of nowhere and i had such fun writing an evil ending >:)

4. the sun-filled god of love: wilson, in a softer universe, shares a piece of his recovery with house.

another one i was overwhelmed by the response for! i was genuinely debating even sharing this one with friends because it was so close to my heart but you guys are all so kind <3

5. why don't we talk about it?: kutner lives! in the same universe as 'the sun-filled god of love', in which he doesn't quite work out the timings properly and his suicide attempt is paused by a convenient phone call from his disgruntled boss.

this fic makes me feel a bit sick with envy asjgk. it's a GOOD ending for my favourite guy ... i was so nervous to write something in kutner's voice but i really leaned into uh... suicidality. don't read into that. this year was. tough for me. and it was so healing to write this, and i'm so glad its helped other people <3

bonus fun fact the title is from this poem, and refers specifically to the elation from feeling like you do not want to die anymore. - "why don't we talk about it? how good it feels."

6. i think my heart is ready to die: in which i fill in the blank of the drunken fight house 'doesn't remember' in s6e20 "baggage"

one of my first fic ideas, prompted when i was actually watching the scene for the first time! its one of my favourites purely because i really enjoy putting house through the fucking wringer. and his psyche is fascinating to me.

7. thinking of you: my secret santa gift for @hydraulicfluidinmyteapot! a softer little thing about gift giving and gay chicken to round off the year :) featuring more accidental on purpose bed sharing !!

tagging whoever wants to do this :)!!

my ao3 wrapped! tagged by @greghousebignaturals, template by @spicedrobot

2024 was my first year of getting back into writing fanfic since literally 5 years ago - and I only got back into it in the second half of the year (and I'll still be posting more stuff before 2024 is over lbr)

very briefly, these are the House fics I wrote this year, in chronological order:

Kill the Mood: Hilson try doing doctor roleplay during sex (and fail)

Bonk: Wilson gets a concussion :)

Don't Touch Me: Wilson hates physical contact and has a bad time

inappropriate use of hospital technology: House sends Wilson a dickpic and trans!Wilson jerks off about it

acting like a tough guy: House avoids Wilson on Valentine's Day (Wilson is very endeared by this)

sleep(less): Wilson is sleep deprived to the point of hallucinating a week after he started dating House

Slow Blink: Wilson is turned into a kitten. House is confused by cat body language

ow: trans!Wilson has period cramps

oh, and one more thing: Wilson gets hurt, House mother hens him, Wilson is a little shit

Want/Deserve/Receive: Wilson starts dating House and freaks out because he doesn't feel like he's allowed to be happy

the truth I chose to bend myself around: House accidentally takes truth serum. Nobody believes him (wip)

Tie Me Up, Pull My Leash: Wilson bets House to wear a tie and then tugs on it like a leash and they make out about it

I'm tagging @itooaminthisepisode and @oldmanffucker and @coffins-and-marbles and @defibrillism (if you wanna)

template below

[icewindandboringhorror]

I've referenced before how I have a big google document to keep track of every media I've ever seen in my entire life (just for reference because I like to track everything possible lol… I am the Data Collector), but recently as I was updating it, I thought of actually evaluating them to find out random percentages (like for example, out of Total Shows Watched, what percentage did I finish vs. stop watching, what percentage did I like or dislike, etc.)...

Evaluating these things is made easier by the fact that I already place everything on each subsection of the list into 6 broad ranking categories, so I don't have to go back and guess to figure out how I feel about them or anything. The categories are: Ranking 5 - overall best* (despite some criticisms of course because I'm too much of an Analyzer to ever find anything Perfect lol) Ranking 4 - more positive than neutral, but not good enough to be 5 Ranking 3 - either the good + bad negate each other, OR it's just not memorable/interesting in any way enough to be ranked higher or lower (this is the Default category ALL things are placed in if no other rank applies) Ranking 2 - maybe a few redeemable elements but largely more negatives than positives Ranking 1 - So bad that it circles around to being fascinating to observe in some way (not necessarily Funny, or Good, but just interesting somehow) Ranking 0 - Bad in a genuinely frustrating or obnoxious manner

*("best" primarily defined here as most interesting, rather than most good in a technical sense, or some other measure. I tend to value more highly whether there's something novel or thoughtful about the worldbuilding, tone, writing, base premise, etc - than about whether it's actually executed perfectly.)

And here's the amount of shows that have so far been placed into each category -

TV shows ~ Rank 5 (highest) - 20 shows ~ Rank 4 (mid-high) - 28 shows ~ Rank 3 (neutral/default/meh) - 114 shows ~ Rank 2 (mid low) -33 shows ~ Rank 1 (low low but intriguingly so) - 14 shows ~ Rank 0 (iredeemably low) - 2 shows

This would make for a total of 211 TV shows overall. However, there are 57 shows within these list marked as "didn't finish" (typically meaning I quit on the very first or second episode - but log them still to keep a record that I at least had a brief view of them).

So my total of genuinely fully watched shows would be more 154. 211 Total, but a More Accurate Total of 154.

Counting them all and using the Total Number Of The List (211) -- that means roughly 9.5% of all total shows I have ever watched (or at least attempted to watch) have been Mostly Good, 13% have been Moderately Okay, 54% have been either entirely Forgettable or some mix of good + bad that lands them right in the Neutral Middle, 15.6% have been Mostly Bad, 6.6% have been Bad (but in an interesting way), and 0.9% have been Terribly Bad.

Additionally, I didn't even get past the first two episodes of about 27% of the total.

Sooo, discounting ones I didn't finish, my total TV shows ever watched in my life would be about 154 (maybe give or take a few, assuming I might have forgotten some from very long ago).

But instead of entire life, let's just say this is the total for 'About 20 Years' (so, not counting very early childhood when I likely wouldn't remember things I saw/have no detailed recollection of them (like for example, I'm sure at some point when I was like 4yrs old I must have seen an episode of Spongebob or something, but I have zero distinct memories of it, can't quote anything of it, and barely recall the premise - so I don't count it on the list, etc.)).

In that case, 154 divided by 20 would be roughly 7.7 shows a year.

Which is actually surprisingly low considering that I often have stuff on in the background for hours whilst I make sculptures and do costumes and stuff (maybe I should have also marked some distinction between 'things I fully paid attention to' and 'things I kind of half listened to whilst sculpting', but that would further split the categories too much probably lol), but I guess a lot of that is youtube videos or random documentaries, so .. eh.. maybe I get it being lower.

Now, doing the same thing for movies-

Movies ~ Rank 5 (highest) - 4 movies (3.4% of total) ~ Rank 4 (mid-high) - 12 movies (10.3% of total) ~ Rank 3 (neutral/default/meh) - 91 movies (78.4% of total) ~ Rank 2 (mid low) - 8 movies (6.8% of total) ~ Rank 1 (low but interesting) - 1 movie (0.8% of total) ~ Rank 0 (irredeemably low) - none in this category (0%)

That makes 116 for a Total (Actually Remembered) Movies Watched In Lifetime (Or At Least In 20 Years).

116 divided by 20 is roughly 5 or 6 movies a year (I feel this has probably been skewed though by adding everything since like elementary school onwards, as I remember a lot more movies from child/teen years.. Whereas, the past 3 years I feel like I've barely seen maybe even 5 movies?? lol). I also have "Didn't Finish" marked on 18 of them. Which means I quit halfway through about 15% of the total movies.

So, a for broader summary stuff..

I seem to be less forgiving to movies than tv shows, by far. Which makes sense to me, I guess, because I love elaboration and details, so "short form" things that only last an hour or two are often lost on me a bit. My biggest complaint with movies is indeed usually walking away just wishing there had been more exposition, more scenes where characters are doing nothing, more "mindless bantering" conversations, more Quiet Downtime and Lore Elaboration and so on lol, so... of course most 1-2hr films end up feeling a bit Not Enough To Draw My Interest/Nothingy to me.

If you count 5 and 4 as "like" and rankings 2 to 0 as "dislike", then for TV shows I at least somewhat liked 48 of them, and at least somewhat disliked 47 of them.. So it's almost exactly the same lol. I'm just about equally as likely to find something bad as I am to find something redeeming about it. But overall, the largest chance is that I just won't really care much for it at all and it will be tossed into the 'neutral' pile, forgotten forever. Movies have a bit better of a balance, "liking" 16 of them, and "disliking" only 9 of them. So I'm slightly more likely to enjoy a movie than to find it annoying - though still VASTLY more likely to just not find it anything in particular, possibly not even finishing it.

ANYWAY.. this is vague and literally pointless, but like I said, I just really find information fun. Like my document where I've rated every apple flavor I've ever tried (like 40 of them now?), or reviewed every oreo flavor (32?), or ranking data from my entire 10 years of Trying To Make Friends process (out of 100 people, roughly 8% chance of a moderate compatibility, 3% chance of high), or etc. etc.. I love to have random pointless things to analyze I suppose lol.

I doubt anyone tracks things in their life in this same exact way, but I'd be interested in hearing any at least somewhat similar data !!! (like, how many TV shows you watch a year on average, and what percentage of those you like vs. dislike (if you keep track of that sort of thing), etc.)). I guess it might be easier with movies, since I think some people use those websites where you curate a list of movies you've seen and you can rate them or something, so maybe the numbers are already available on those places. :0

[larrythefloridaman]

WOAH, HE'S BIGENDER? I DIDN'T KNOW THAT!

[bonefall]

Voted for Bumble bc of course but also if you think Alex would not pspsps Bumble you are wrong. If they could communicate they would go to therapy together /s

If then could communicate they would go to therapy together

/GEN

Kyle/Green Lantern resurrects her but then he becomes convinced that she's not the same person she was before the incident, OR SOMETHING SOMETHING Black Lanterns aren't ACTUALLY bad they're just misunderstood Grim Reaper types, in either case Alex ends up breaking it off with Kyle because they've become very different people.

And then Bumble's there

And then they go to therapy or Alex adopts Bumble, and then uhhh Bumble's like one of the superpets. Like Krypto the Superdog. Free premise go forth and play with it if ur a DC fan

[torchickentacos]

do you have any pokeani fic recs for the classic vibe (read: the content is unhinged and wild)

Referencing this post- long reply but I give a few pointers in these fics' direction at the end!

I'm gonna be so honest anon, I'm not sure I want to actively rec some of them 😭 A lot of them are very of-their-time (usually 2007-2013) and, while HILARIOUS, often contain things that I really don't want to 'recommend' (homophobia, sexism, a lot of slutshaming, some REALLY out of pocket stuff that is not properly warned for, etc). OBVIOUSLY I am not reccing the yikes of things so much as the rest of it (the hilarious unhinged side), but the current fandomscape leans bad-faith and assumey and I'm just not keen to fuck around and find out tbh. Ye olde fic reccing takes a level of understanding of other time periods and attitudes and customs in fandom and on FFN that I'm... not sure that all of tumblr is always very good at tbh lol. If you guys really want me to and if we can all understand that it was a different time and that enjoyment of batshit insane fics does not equal agreement with everything said or depicted in them, then come back and I'll consider it again. But for now, I'm MORE than happy to tell you guys the best ways to find them on your own lmao. It's not hard once you get it down, and anything I'd rec, I've found through this method.

First off, FFN's search system is just frustrating imo. Between a less-than-intuitive UI and people not bothering to tag characters and ships and genres properly, using it the same way you'd filter stuff on Ao3 is a fool's errand (unless you're doing it by word count/completed/etc, which is objective and automatically tallied I think). You're better off using key words. I usually ignore the filters. The only thing I filter by is fandom at the start page (all of Pokemon is under 'games' in FFN and I don't bother narrowing it down to animeverse personally due to aforementioned mistagging or an entire lack thereof).

So, what key words do I use? When looking for that specific brand of insane campy 2000s kitschy wild unhinged stuff, I usually default to searches like "PS CS IS" (poke contest ikari, there's a lotta stuff in there, sometimes there's ORS/LGS/OS/ES/AS etc and you won't always know the acronym and it's just a surprise tbh) or trope related searches like "Assassin" or "High school" or "Vampire" other words you might find in a summary. You can also search by character names (in the search bar and not in the actual filters, which are not reliable in my experience). I'd say to go for tropes and AUs as far as keywords go. I'd ALSO say to not filter by completed, because that'll filter out a lot of two-week-passion-projects that someone dropped as soon as it got flamed, and there's some fun ones in there.

That's about it, but if you find one good fic then it's worth checking the rest of what the writer has. A lot of them have a bunch of unfinished fics and there's some hidden gems. Have a good time reading, and the search is half the fun! Come back with any funny lines you find if you want :)