#wip : mourn the day

[oneandonlysoftie]

have a doodle of AU silco silently judging u he'd be the type to silently stare at u whether in canon or in the AU, thinking about how awful u look, rating ur style, posture (ok rat man stand straight first), manners and thinking about the vilest things or how he'd fix whatever atrocity he's looking at

in the AU, silco seems like a nice and kind sassy business family man, but i kind of want to incorporate some of the canon personality into him. make him more grumpy, more silent, more stern, more of a traumatized angry control freak, more tired and sickly lol

i want to portay him as the AU man he is, but also as the canon drug kingpin he is, as a mix of the two, one stronger than the other at times and a more equal mix of them in other instances

just got a lot of ideas that i'll draw eventually. currently have some ideas of pirate/pirate captain silco, haven't had the chance to really doodle those, but soon enough

[timptoe]

WIP for N7 Day: "The Dead Parents Club"

Still trying to wrap my head around how awful things are and how much worse they can get. But Mass Effect broke my brain in the best possible way when I needed it most, and I couldn't let this N7 Day go past. So here's a portion of the next chapter of my Joker fic that's been sitting in my Notes for the better part of two years; there's a different part of the chapter that I just can't get to work, but this part just kind of fell out of me.

When everything good is falling apart, it's community that keeps us together.

----

Kepler Verge, Newton System, SSV Normandy SR-2 One month, one week, four days before the end of the Reaper War

Joker knows that she’s right. It’s the right thing to do, but he can’t help pausing outside the door anyway. This is Tali’s idea. She’d probably say it was his, but he doesn’t really do personal interactions like this.

(You know what I think? I think we're called into relationships, étoile. Because other people help us get there.)

He takes another deep breath, then crutches forward.

Alenko looks up sharply at the hiss of the opening door, twisting around to peer over the back of the couch. The lights in the starboard observation lounge are dimmed, the viewport backlighting him in a halo of stars. If his eyes are a little red, Joker does his best not to notice.

“Joker,” Alenko says, tone laced with mild surprise. “Everything alright?”

Joker keeps his expression steady. “I could ask you the same thing.”

Alenko gives him a small smile. It’s brittle, and forced, though nevertheless—as always with him—genuine. “You’ve heard.”

“Shepard told me before he left with EDI and Javik.” He moves further into the room, letting the doors close softly behind him. 

Alenko nods, turning back to gaze out the window. “They good?”

“Cortez dropped them at the Cerberus outpost about twenty minutes ago. They’re gonna lay low for a little while, get a read on the place before they move in.”

“Comms silent.” Not surprising Alenko knows the protocol.

“Comms silent,” Joker confirms anyway. He blows a small breath out. “It’s Shepard. They’ll be fine.”

“Yeah.” Alenko nods, then looks over at him. “He tell you to check up on me, too?”

“Surprised?”

“I—“ Alenko starts to say something, but stops, ducking his head slightly. The barest hint of a smile tugs at the corner of his mouth. “Actually, no.”

Joker sits on the couch too, a whole person-and-a-half away from Alenko. He holds his crutches in his lap. Waits an appropriate length of time. Swallows the brief rush of anxiety in his throat. “So. Tell me about him.”

“You want to…” Alenko shakes his head in disbelief. “Joker, you don’t have to do this. I appreciate the effort, but I know you’re still coming around to trusting me again, so—“

“My mom died when I was fifteen.” Joker twists the handle of one of his crutches, the brash edge unusually absent from his voice as he stares out the window into the starfield beyond. “For months after, all I wanted to do was tell someone, anyone, about her. About how awesome she was. About what I lost. About what the galaxy lost. I never did, because I’m, you know, me. But you, as we’ve established, aren’t me. So.” He looks over at Alenko. “Tell me something about him.”

Alenko holds his gaze for a moment, eyes shining. He has such an open, honest face, it’s too easy for Joker to read. The grief. The surprise. The gratitude. All the kinds of things a normal person keeps locked away in polite company, Alenko just…shows. 

For the very briefest of moments, Joker thinks he might finally see what it is Shepard sees in Kaidan.

The major looks away, out the window. “He’s…he was…generous,” he says softly. “It’s the first thing people would say about him to me, even when I was a kid. ‘Your dad helped me fix my stove, he’s so generous with his time.’ ‘You know, your dad helped me get out to Terra Nova to attend my sister’s wedding, it was so generous of him.’ Just the type of guy who always jumped in to help someone.” He looks down at his hands, folding them in his lap. “It’s not really surprising he stepped up to lead when the Reapers invaded. I just…”

He sighs, looking up at Joker. He absently wipes a tear tracking its way down his cheek. “I guess you never stop thinking of your parents as invincible, you know?”

“Yeah,” Joker says quietly.

“Yeah.”

Kaidan pauses, looking back down for a moment, then back up to Joker again, his features smoothing out a bit as he clamps down on his emotions. “It was…kind of you to ask, Joker. Thank you.”

“Well, to be honest, I came by for something else. An…invitation.” Joker puts his crutches back upright.

“Mm?” Kaidan’s wordless question hangs in the air as Joker pushes himself up off the couch. 

He starts crutching for the door before realizing he’s walking alone. He turns back, seeing Kaidan still sitting on the couch. “Walk with me?”

“Not really in the mood for poker tonight, Joker,” Kaidan says tentatively.

“Me neither,” Joker responds lightly. “Come on.”

He turns and starts for the door again. This time, he hears Alenko’s soft footfalls behind him.

“You know, I learned not to talk about Mom a lot because, just, most people don’t get it,” Joker says, keeping his tone casual. It comes…surprisingly easy after all this time. “There’s sympathy, or embarrassment, or like…staring. So much staring.”

“Mm,” Kaidan grunts noncommittally.

“And you know me, I like talking, but not, like, talking, so I went a long time with only sympathetic platitudes or embarrassed arm pats or stares to hold on to, and it sucked. And then, one day, I remembered something Mom said to me once.” He stops in front of the port observation lounge. 

Kaidan stops with him. “What did she say?”

Joker shifts his grip on his crutches. “We’re called into relationships.”

Kaidan’s open, honest face cracks into a wry amusement that Joker can instantly read: Joker, seeking out relationships with others? Surely not.

Yeah, he deserves that.

To his credit, the major’s eyes get a little wider at his own, visceral reaction, and he immediately smooths his features again, saying with not a little embarrassment, “Sorry. But, uh…you’re telling me you’ve talked to other people about your mom’s passing.”

“Yep.”

“And that…went well?”

“You’d be surprised,” Joker replies.

He turns, the door to the lounge hissing open. The group inside stops talking and looks over at the pair.

“Welcome to the Dead Parents Club, Kaidan,” Joker says.

Kaidan stands in the doorway, stunned. He looks around the room slowly. Tali and Garrus sit at the bar, some sort of bottle of dextro-liquor between them. Vega nods from his perch on the arm of the couch under the window, while Diana Allers sits next to Stefano, one of the gunnery specialists, on the couch opposite. Liara crosses the room from where she’d been looking out the observation port, wrapping Kaidan in a wordless, gentle hug.

“I…” Kaidan stops, starts again as Liara pulls back. “You all…?”

“Mom died when I was a kid. Cancer.” Vega takes a drink of whatever’s in his glass.

Allers raises hers and says, “My dad was in an industrial accident a couple of years back.”

“I’m from New Canton,” Stefano volunteers. “My folks were there when the Collectors came.”

Kaidan’s gaze wanders around the room, dumbfounded, before finally landing on Joker. “You put this together?”

Joker shifts uncomfortably and says nothing.

“He did,” Tali volunteers. “Back on the first Normandy. He and I sort of…bonded over losing our mothers when we were younger.”

“And then when Benezia died, I…” Liara pauses, collecting herself. “Well. There was a night right after we left Noveria. I was sitting alone in the mess, and these two walked in and just started…talking. About their moms. And asking me questions, and carrying the conversation when I couldn’t, and I…”

“I never knew,” Kaidan says, almost inaudible.

“No one else knows what it’s like,” Vega chimes in. “They say they do, and they can try their best, but they don’t.”

The others all nod.

Kaidan looks around the room again, not a soldier evaluating a tactical situation, but instead like a child searching a new, unfamiliar environment for comfort.

And finding it.

“The Dead Parents Club.” His voice is soft, like if he speaks too loudly, it won’t work.

“It helps to be a little maudlin,” Garrus responds. “Takes some of the sting out.”

Joker crosses to the vidscreen and starts fiddling with the setup. “It also helps to not stare at each other like some lame-ass support group,” he says, getting the thing to turn on. “So we watch movies.”

“Movies.”

Liara nods, pulling him down onto the couch with Vega. “And talk during them. Helps to fill the silences when we can’t talk.”

“Yo, whaddya got tonight, ¿comodín?” Vega says.

“Early twenty-first century Earth film, Stranger Than Fiction. One of my grand-père’s favorites.” He grins. “Mom hated it.”

“Gotta be better than that turian schlock last week,” Allers catcalls over to Garrus.

Garrus harrumphs. “Tellock is a master of storytelling. My mother had excellent taste.”

“Good to know I should blame your mother, then,” Tali says with a smirk in her voice, “for your terrible opinions on cinema.”

Garrus clicks his mandibles at her while the rest of the room laughs, descending into a bunch of side conversations as the movie starts up. Joker sits down next to Kaidan on the couch, who looks at him with wide, wet eyes, a flush of color along his throat.

“No obligation to stay, Kaidan,” Joker says quietly. “Just, you know. You’ll feel alone forever. But sometimes, it’s nice to be alone together.”

Kaidan grips Joker’s forearm tightly, almost painfully, clinging to it like it’s the last bit of flotsam near a sinking ship. “Thank you,” he whispers roughly. He tries to say more, stops himself before he breaks completely.

Joker just nods.

[revenantlore]

. queer gothic fantasy . ghoulish vampires . a grumpy man with a pet rat and a death wish never to be granted . the literal embodiment of sunshine . polyamory . snarky lesbian badass . necromancy and undead horses . a ghost dog . supernatural drugs .

Plagued by a virus spread from an experiment gone awry, never does a night go by where Ashmourne’s cobblestones and soil are not drenched in human blood.

Bloodthirsty monsters wearing the faces of the virus’s victims run rampant the moment the sun is drawn below the horizon and only death can stop them.

Much too quick and strong for any ordinary adversary to survive against, a small group of both willing and unwilling participants have been scientifically engineered to protect Ashmourne from the very horrors the scientists created.

Without these special few, the townspeople of Ashmourne would have far more to mourn than daylight itself.

. bram valdis .

With no regards to his health or safety, Bram delves straight into harm’s way with the hope of a miracle: an end to his suffering. His past is marred with as many scars as his body, haunting reminders of what he is, who he used to be, and what he can never be again. No more than a laboratory rat, an experiment, a mistake … something far from human.

His compulsions lead to a gruesome collection of blood drawn from the Fangs he has slaughtered, a memento of sorts, stored in vials lining the shelves of his bookcases. Less a symbol of triumph and more a way to calm the obsessive thoughts rattling through his skull. Not a night goes by where he doesn’t count each and every one, often to the familiar tune of insomnia.

A fear of intimacy and loss has left him bitter and alone for much of his life, but he dreams of one day finding a love alike that of the fairy tales that accompany him on these sleepless nights.

. halifax bertram .

After out-aging the dirty halls of Galloway’s Home for Unfortunate Children, Halifax and his younger brother, Pennant, were left to fend for themselves in search of a better, safer life outside the borders of Ashmourne.

Poor, helpless, and more than a little hopeless, their journey was wrought with danger and a quick end.

When Pennant is taken in by Ether as a potential experimental subject, Halifax bargains for his freedom in exchange for Fax’s, unaware of the consequences that await him.

Fax hasn’t spoken to Pennant since.

Not without want, but it is forbidden, if he wants his brother to remain safe.

. pennant bertram .

Painting helps Pennant hold on to hope, distracts him from the grim truth of his existence in the weary village of Ashmourne. When painting fails, there’s the withering garden in the forests beyond Dead End to keep him occupied. He’s determined to bring some life to it—a budding flower or a shock of green amongst the wilting leaves.

Ashmourne is a dark and dismal place, desperate for a spot of brightness, a spark of hope, and so is Pennant.

Not even death will stop him from making it happen.

. zay larosa .

Following in her mother’s and aunt’s footsteps, Zay offers psychic readings at The Dirty Rat for a negotiable price—often she will settle for payment in the form of a drink, and many of her clients would claim the drunken prophet’s readings are always more accurate when of a liquor-addled brain. Others would denounce her credibility as a prophet, usually when things go wrong—or, more accurately, out of spite, when they go just as Zay said they would when seldom is it ever in the client’s favor.

It’s all but a distraction—the booze, the nameless women she beds, the hours and coins wasted away in games of cards and dice, all teetering on a risky bet her prophecies fail to correctly foretell—while a thirst for vengeance gnaws ever-present at her heart.

Her father was slain by a man Zay only knows by appearance alone, an unmistakable scar clawed across his face by her hands alone, and she is determined to find and kill him—all the more reason to snatch a glimpse into the futures of strangers.

. athios forsyth .

Haunted by the memories of a murder he didn’t mean to commit, Athios recedes into a life of isolation to avoid facing the truth behind the event. There are no consequences for the crime, no evidence that it ever happened—not when his victim rose from his grave at the touch of Athios’ own hand—except for the ceaseless guilt.

In the accompaniment of Ambrose, a dog whom is neither here nor there, Athios tends to the graveyards of Ashmourne, both with the intent to maintain a pristine appearance and to experiment with his ability to raise the dead.

His curiosity comes with more consequence than he bargained for when he messes with the restricted graves of Fangs and unleashes a new horror upon Ashmourne.

. zacarias bane .

All hopes of affection were surrendered the day Zacarias discovered himself incapable of touching another person without being thrust into their deepest, darkest memories without mercy.

Yet … Bram and Athios seem to somehow be exceptions to this rule.

The two men become a mystery Zacarias is determined to solve, temptation and desperation fueling his quest for an explanation while he suffers through nights of listening to the ceaseless passion of strangers below his rooming above the local brothel.

[meymeyzart]

Mourning

[aeoneri]

Had to decommission some posts I've reblogged previously.

At the time of this writing, it's been almost two days since the news re Watcher broke out. I've already said my thoughts in the video's comment section, doomscrolled to death, watched every commentator that decided to cover the news, and emphatized with fellow fans on Reddit.

I agree with the majority - it's simply poor business management, too soon. What I don't agree is the evolution of criticism to hate.

I liked Worth It. Though tbh, Andrew is my fave host. I watched it before for the escapism of it all, for the knowledge that somewhere out there were these places that maybe a multiverse version of me would be able to go and experience. I was initially thrilled when they announced Andrew and Adam joined Watcher, only to be dismayed with the end decision made by the trio (Steven, Ryan and Shane) to leave YouTube and have all of their content live behind a paywall.

I'm not sure if I should be relieved that I never posted the Watcher/Buzzfeed Ghoul Boys AU that I had been working on for MONTHS. I know in my heart of hearts that I will not have the strength to get back to it in the immediate present; even watching old Unsolved content hurt to do so. I unsubscribed from Watcher a day after the video was released. I unfollowed Watcher, Shane (and unfortunately, Adam as well, caught by association) on Instagram soon after (I never followed Ryan or Steven at all).

It's an all-around nasty feeling for me to mourn my work before it even got a chance to go out into the world. I know it is smarter to keep it hidden away, until it gets better.

If it gets better.

They said that it is goodbye, but they hope it isn't and we follow them one last time. But for me, I am no longer the target market. As an international viewer, I have, and will always get the short end of the stick.

So, you have my well wishes, Watcher. This is indeed goodbye to the boys I used to adore.

[paniartistmauser]

Some more Rooks for Veilguard

[90sbee]

no fic tomorrow i must mourn argentina losing </3

[nopoodles]

WIP Files Game

How To? Post the names of all the files in your work in progress folder, regardless of how non-descript or ridiculous. Let people send you an ask with the title that most intrigues them, and then post a little snippet or tell them something about it. And tag as many people as you have WIPs

Tagged by the super cool @acertainmoshke

So, i don't technically have a WIPs folder. Each project gets its own folder titled with either the MC's name or the actual book title so I'll just grab an assortment (and put their respective folder in brackets).

wth 09032023 (Wth)

genderqueer and Half Dragon (dragons)

UTSO (ipa)

merry reharshed again! Autosaved (Merry)

MAFTH d3 (Merry 2)

mafth sept2022 b + b edits input (Merry 2)

ntk1 ([Title redacted])

I do have a bunch of others in my scrivener files but, I'll be honest, they're all just the proper titles

Oh shoot, now I have to tag 7 people, and find a way to send an ask without outing my personal blog name (I'm not hiding it, I've just put a little wall there). @mariahwritesstuff @nikk-named-writer @avrablake @oh-no-another-idea @koiwrites I am out of blogs that have tagged me in the last 2 months. I'll leave the tag open too

[revenantlore]

Seven sits atop [Bram’s] shoulder, her small black head tucked underneath the lapel of his vest to keep dry.

When you see this post, add one sentence to your current WIP.

(I need to work on my thesis, so I’ll add a sentence per note as long as that’s sustainable. We can do this together 🧡🧡)

[joeloverture]

a lesson in condom sense | dbf!j.m. x f!reader

masterlist pairing: dbf!joel miller x sex shop employee!reader summary: [no outbreak] the last customer you expect to be waltzing into your secret day job is your dad's best friend. you can only fight the tension between you two for so long before giving in. warnings: (18+ mdni) what it says on the can: reader works at an adult store, many sex toys referenced (& used!), age gap (mid 20s/early 50s) brief mention of sex work, don't follow reader's example, joel buys a fleshlight, joel fantasizes about you, brief mention of bondage, mostly pwp, reader humps a chair + gets caught doing it, mild exhibitionism, 'just the tip' that leads into unprotected piv, creampie, oral (f!receiving), vaginal fingering, joel uses a vibrator on reader, degradation, praise, soft dom!joel, pet names, aftercare [no use of y/n] word count: 6.5k a/n: condom sense is, in fact, a real sex shop that exists and serves the DFW metro area, so not exactly austin, but the name was too perfect not to pretend. unlike these two, please favor condom sense and wrap it up. dbf sex shop joel won the poll for my next wip, but expect coach!joel pt. 2 to be right around the corner.

Admittedly, working at a sex shop isn’t the highest point in your life, but it certainly isn’t the lowest, either. The 40% off employee discount does soften the blow of lying through your teeth at cookouts. Saying you’re working at Walmart while trying to navigate a competitive job market goes over better than saying you work at Condom Sense.

All things considered, it’s not the worst place you’ve worked. Your manager, a 60-year-old stuck in the 70s named Sally, is much more lenient than your past bosses. You get to recommend toys to the girls that come through, and you also get the satisfaction of them coming back to sing your praises. Condom Sense never would’ve been your first choice of work right out of college, but now you almost mourn the day you’ll have to leave.

Thumbing through an old issue of Cosmopolitan, your bubblegum is beginning to lose its flavor. The tinny noise of Madonna’s “Like a Prayer” purrs out of the ancient radio sitting alongside tentacle dildos. It’s still a little weird to have a constant audience of whips, handcuffs, vibrators, fleshlights, and everything in between, but since your bedside drawer has gotten fuller with every shift you take, you really can’t judge anything stocked here.

The later shifts are normally slower, especially this close to 11:00. Sometimes there’s a gaggle of sex workers outside of the door, dressed skimpily no matter how biting the rare Texas cold is, but that isn’t the case tonight – you’re the only one here, feet kicked up on a pink stool.

As if the world has it out for you, the rust-eaten bell lets out a metallic jingle, and you can’t help but roll your eyes at the thought of having to put your Cosmopolitan away. Who the hell comes into a sex shop twenty minutes before close? Someone whose vibrator gave out on them, someone who needs lube, or both.

“Welcome to Condom Sense,” you put on your customer service voice, reluctantly bouncing off of the stool. You flip your magazine shut and toss it onto the counter, breaking into a crouch to finally make yourself useful by restocking the condom display. “Let me know if you need anything.”

A small grunt comes in response, and then some heavy footsteps carry through the store. Great, even better, you think to yourself, it’s a man.

The crowd that’s attracted to Condom Sense is mostly college-aged or middle-aged women, not with too much wiggle room in between. It’s Texas, after all, where ownership of more than six dildos is “prohibited”. Sometimes there’s a stray overeager boyfriend or creep with a receding hairline, but normally Sally is right around the corner to tell anyone out of line to scram, waving around a broom as if trying to fend off a stray dog. That’s not the case tonight.

You hold your breath and keep putting boxes of Trojans into the glass display case. Whoever’s in here is quiet, at least, not the type to ask for help or make too much of a ruckus with knocking shelving units over. Hopefully you can get him checked out quickly so you can close up and head home.

You stay like that for five minutes, sorting through boxes and marking stock until a throat clears in front of the counter.

Jolting up, you smooth out the wrinkles in your clothes, fiddling with your nametag. “Hi, yes, you all seeeee-”

Who the hell comes into a sex shop twenty minutes before close? Apparently Joel Miller does. You know, your dad’s best friend.

Maybe it’s because you’re surrounded by phallic dildos, maybe it’s because you’re goddamn stupid, but Mr. Miller, who seems to be fresh off of a worksite, looks good. Even though there’s an unmistakable surprise stricken across his brown eyes and a splotch of dirt on the slice of neck above his flannel collar, his hair is mussed perfectly, his scruff tamed along his jawline. Your eyes flash down to what he’s holding: a fleshlight.

You hate how quickly your mouth goes dry at the thought of Joel himself thrusting desperately into the dumb toy, and worse is the thought of him using your cunt to get off instead. You’re quick to remind yourself. Off. Limits. First of all, you don’t fuck customers. And you definitely don’t fuck customers that are your dad’s best friend.

Joel’s fist tightens around the box as if trying to obscure what you already know. His face is redder than you’ve ever seen it, cheeks like apples. In the end, it’s him who speaks first. “This ain’t a Walmart, hun.”

Your face heats up, and you shrug. “Pays well.”

“Can’t blame ya there,” he nods along. “‘S been a while. You alright?”

“I mean, I work at a store called Condom Sense. What do you figure?”

“C’mon now, can’t be that bad,” Joel grins at you.

“It isn’t,” you concede. You look him up and down again, trying really hard not to spend too much time on the toy in his hand. “Long day… contracting?”

Joel lets out a long, winded sigh through his teeth. “Yeah… my guys fucked up our concrete job. Had us there two hours longer than we were s’posed to be. Probably gonna be another long one tomorrow.” He runs a hand back through his already disheveled hair, his nose flaring. “Not your problem though, sweetness.” His eyes flick over you, over the counter and the neon signs behind you. “Your daddy know you work here?”

You freeze, eyes widening. “He’d have a cow, Joel. And if you think you’re about to hold this over my head or somethin-”

“Woah, woah, now when did I ever say any ‘a that? That’s none of my business, hun. You’re an adult, as long as you're gettin’ paid and you’re comfortable? I don’t see the issue.”

You nod, heart slowing to a steadier pace, or at least as steady of a pace as it can manage with Joel standing on the other side of the counter holding a fleshlight. “So, uh, relaxing night in or…?” You swallow hard. Professionalism, you remind yourself.

Joel laughs, an almost nervous sound as he rubs the back of his neck. “Just… a bit dry lately, I guess.”

“First time buying?” you ask with a raised brow.

“That obvious?” He slowly slides the box across the counter to you, and you inspect it under the fluorescents.

You hum under your breath, tilting the box away from you to get a better look. “Not a bad first choice. I’ve heard good things. Since it’s your first time, are you more of a spit-in-your-hand kind of guy, or do you have some massage oil or lube?”

Joel stares at you, almost sputtering as his lips try to form words. “What?”

You shake your head, veins suddenly iced over. “Shit, sorry, I shouldn’t be asking-”

“No, no, not a problem, sweetheart. It’s your job. Just… don’t expect to be hearin’... that from you.” He chuckles, but it sounds strangled. “I… normally spit. ‘S faster.”

Joel, desperately shucking off his belt and pants, pulling his hardened cock out, spitting into his hand so he can wrap his fist around himself. That first groan of pleasure he lets out, hand moving up, down, up, down. He treasures his alone time so much that he has to be the type to savor it– but you can’t think that far. Your tongue darts out to swipe along your lower lip, and you swear Joel tracks the movement. Your chest is tied up in knots.

“Well, you’re gonna want a heating massage oil. Moves it along easier, feels realer, y’know?” You reach across the counter and pluck a blue bottle from the display. “This is our bestseller.” Mustering up the most casual smile you can give him without wincing, you tap your fingers along the countertop.

Joel looks between you and the bottle, gnawing nervously at the inside of his cheek. “Thanks, hun. That’ll be it, then.”

You ring him up, sinking the fleshlight, the oil, and a complimentary toy cleaner deep into a bag that says THANK YOU four times along the side. The printer buzzes as it spits out his receipt, and you hand it all to him. He gives you a nod, casual, simple. You could keep it that way, a tiny interaction isolated to the four walls of Condom Sense, but you feel the words knocking at the backs of your teeth.

You’re saying them before you can second guess them: “Enjoy yourself, Joel.”

He makes eye contact for what must be the first time that night, eyes murky with something that, if you were more gullible, could come across as want. “I will, sweetheart.” Joel nods, wrapping a large hand around the bag. You don’t watch him leave, but you do hear the ring of the doorbell as the door knocks shut. It’s not enough to distract yourself from thinking of what his moans sound like.

Joel sweats like a whore in church the next time your dad calls him. He practically is one when he thinks about what it’d be like to be inside of the divinity of your body, a rosary of sweat collecting on his neck. He’d say every prayer if it meant he got to keep thinking of you like that – feels realer, a spit-in-your-hand kind of guy, enjoy yourself. Enjoy yourself. Enjoy yourself.

It’s shameful, the way he thinks of you, the daughter of the man he considers his best friend. But he can’t make himself stop. Every time he pulls the fleshlight out of his drawer, you appear in his head. Sometimes you’re bent over the counter, whining as he rolls his hips into yours. Sometimes he rucks up those fucking skirts you wear to shove his face between your thighs, lets you soak his face as you pull his hair. Sometimes you’re riding him, moving how he shifts the fleshlight over his leaking cock.

Every time, regardless of what he imagines, he shakes himself loose in post-orgasm bliss, guilt chewing at his stomach. Every time he passes Condom Sense on the way to a job, he wonders if you’re working. What’s a respectable amount of time to stop in for a second sex toy purchase? Joel wouldn't know, and he doesn’t want to be selfish. Money doesn’t grow on trees, unlike his arousal. The fleshlight is already miles better than his own hand, and he worries what he might say if he sees you bouncing around, say, restocking dildos.

He manages to keep his self control. He doesn’t get on his knees and confess his sins to your dad on the phone, or when they run into each other at home depot. By some miracle, he doesn’t get any further than flicking his turn signal before immediately turning it off when he passes Condom Sense.

And then he has the dream.

It’s his day off, a Sunday, and he wakes up to his dick softening and his cum drying on his abdomen and all of the hair spattered there. There’s traces of the dream in reach, tugging on the harness he’d tied around your body to pull you back on his cock.

This time, he can’t shake himself loose.

He’s standing in Condom Sense by ten in the morning, running his hands down his sides and feeling oddly exposed, as if every camera or wandering employee can see the shame painted on his skin much like his cum had been. He hopes you’re not here; he’s not sure he can handle it, but he is sure of the arousal that would brim in his lower belly at the mere sight of you. It’s bad news – everything about this is bad news.

You’re bad for Joel, and you have been ever since he saw you for the first time after your college graduation, partying in your old man’s living room. Four shots deep and a feather boa around your neck, wearing a low-cut top as you scream-sung Dolly Parton into the busted karaoke machine from your childhood. That was the first time he ever saw you as anything more than your dad’s little girl. It should’ve been the last, too.

Joel takes a relieved breath when there’s no immediate sign of you in the store, but you very well could be squatting behind the counter like last time. There's a woman in a pink polo shirt with bangle bracelets standing over by the wall of ropes, reorganizing and sucking on her teeth. 

He doesn’t even know what he’s here for – he’s chasing something he can’t have, or at least a semblance of it. The obvious choice is the restraints from his dream, but he has nobody to put them on, no skin to feather with kisses as he pulls them secure. Another fleshlight would be greedy.

And then he hears it. The unmistakable sound of your voice, a shockwave to his chest. He slips behind a display, almost ready to make a beeline for the door when you say, “We restocked the wands.” Joel glimpses you through the grid of butt plugs he’s hiding behind, where you’re waving around a rectangular white box. “You were asking for recommendations, right? Well, this one’s a trooper.”

“That so?” your co-worker clicks. “Might be too intense for me. You’re known to be an overachiever.”

“No shame in a little overstimulation,” you shrug.

Joel slams a fist on his chest to stop himself from hacking out a surprised cough. His thighs go hot, a warmth that spreads between them and tightens his pants as he thinks about you with a wand to your glossy clit, hips squirming for more and less all the same.

“Yeah, for you. I’d be bawlin’ into my pillow in two minutes.”

“It’s my favorite! Only just gave out on me yesterday… had her for years, though. My old faithful. Have to say, it’s a little rough waiting for my next paycheck. Nothing else does it for me. Feels fucking incredible.”

Joel walks out. Not because he wants to, but because if he doesn’t, he won’t be able to stop himself from spending almost a hundred dollars on that wand and handing it to you in broad daylight. It occurs to him on the uncomfortable drive home, hard and throbbing between his legs, that he wants to be the source of your pleasure, to make you feel good.

It’s a damning thought for a man like him, but not damning enough.

Pent up is one way to describe the way you’re feeling.

After the unfortunate passing of your trustworthy wand, your fingers nor the rest of your collection of comparably wimpy toys, have been able to do the trick for you. And the worst part of it all? Your paycheck is still three days away.

You’d like to say not getting off in four days is the source of all of your arousal, but you’re not a liar. At least, not to yourself, because you wouldn’t stand at the podium and confess your nastiest Joel-centered fantasies to his face. It’d been bearable when it was only him fucking the fleshlight taped to the backs of your eyelids. You blame it on the pervy part of yourself that’s always rubbed her thighs together from watching a man get himself off. It’s no longer bearable when you start envisioning him moaning your name while he rocks his hips into the toy, chasing his release.

No, it’s not bearable at all.

Sitting behind the same counter you’d checked him out at makes it worse, roughly the same hour of the night that he’d popped in the other day. You keep thinking of how he looked at you, first caught like a deer in headlights, then almost shy, a word you’d never once use to describe the man you’d come to know as your dad’s best friend.

An even more pervy part of yourself, the same one that hopes he thinks of fucking you when he fucks his recent purchase, slowly rolls her hips into the stool. It’s imperceptible, not something that has a chance of being picked up by the camera. You grind your clothed, needy pussy onto the pink vinyl cover, smothering a whimper into your fist. The seam of your shorts catches on your clit, snuggled between your folds. Your arousal clings to the gusset of your drenched panties. Pleasure spools in your stomach, winding around your cunt and spine. 

You curl in on yourself, burying your head into your folded arms and panting as you grind on the stool. You let yourself pretend it’s Joel’s lap; the mound-like shape of the foam beneath isn’t at all close to what Joel’s bulge must feel like, but with every press of your hips, it matters less and less.

The taboo of it all, knowing you’ll have to go into the security system and delete the footage once you’re done soaking the vinyl, being in view of the unlocked door, is doing just as much for you as your vibrator back home would. So much so that with your head tipped low, your eyes squeezed shut, and your hips canting back and forth, you don’t even notice the rusted rasp of the bell above the door.

You don’t notice a damn thing until a strangled sound comes from the front of the store.

Your head snaps up so fast that you go toppling off of the back of the chair, just barely able to catch and prop yourself up on a shelf behind the counter. An embarrassed cough knocks its way out of your gut. Too taboo. You’re still panting when you’re stricken by a passing thought: you’re definitely going to lose your job, the last one this part of Austin seemed to have to offer. Shit.

Your dignity on the other hand is long gone, somewhere in the smear of arousal you left on the stool. “Sorry – fuck! I’m sorry,” you blurt out in a last-ditch effort to keep your job, fingers crossed that it’s someone who understands or at least doesn’t care.

When you look up, you get none of that. For the second time this week, you get Joel Miller. Joel Miller with his messed up hair and work-worn hands, slack jaw and rapid blinking.

You must be matching his expression now, mouth opening and closing with your eyes widened in the ultimate form of disbelief. Your head bows and your chin meets your chest. Apparently it wasn’t enough for your dad’s best friend to buy a fleshlight from you. He also had to find you getting off in public. 

“Joel, shit, I’m so sorry,” you start, planting the heels of your palms on your temples. Your legs feel weak, a death sentence with your sluggish, blistering heartbeat. Joel’s silence bears down on you, an inescapable weight, and you’re talking before you can stop yourself. “I– I’ve just been so pent up…” Cheeks burning from the inside out, you scrub your hands from your forehead to your chin.

“Shut up,” Joel says stiffly. A wince cleaves its way out of your body.

Another apology sits on your tongue. “I’m s-”

He cuts in, “Knock it off,” and that’s when your eyes drift lower. Below his belt buckle, but not much further. How could you look any lower when his cock is rock fucking hard in his jeans, fighting against the denim? You whimper, unable to stop yourself from rubbing your thighs together. “Jesus, are you in fuckin’ heat?” Joel snaps.

It doesn’t achieve the desired effect – you just let out another whimper, your arousal still clinging to your thighs. “Joel, please.”

Joel pinches his nose bridge. He shakes his head, dissolving into a muttered swear under his breath. “No, hun. Not gonna end up balls deep in my buddy’s little girl, even if you beg real pretty for me.”

“Why not,” you practically whine, pushing off of the shelf and walking closer to him. He only folds his arms over his broad chest as if to keep you away.

His voice is strained. “Baby–” Your heart flutters. “Can’t do that to your dad. You’re just houndin’ after a poundin’, ain’t ya?”

“I am,” you huff, brain clouded by the arousal that’s currently casting a shadow through all of your being. “Please, I haven’t come in days.”

Joel hisses at that like he’s in pain. He shakes his head again, much faster. There’s a line of remorse pressed between his brows, but it’s far overpowered by the pressure of his cock pulling his jeans taut. “Your little ‘massager’ quit on you, sweetheart?”

You bite your lip. Right on the money. “How’d you know?”

“Came in for… somethin’... the other day. Heard you fussin’ about it to your co-worker.” He shrugs.

You’re burning up, a match struck against the gritty concrete of Joel’s voice. It doesn’t matter that he’s a customer, doesn’t even matter that he’s buddies with your dad. You just want him to replace your aimlessly working fingers at night. You want release, and you want it with him. Begging won’t get you there with Joel, you’re realizing, even if all you want is to get on your knees and cry for his cock. You need to rile him up until he breaks. “Needed another pocket pussy to put your dick in?” you tease.

“Watch yourself,” Joel says. “You really that cock starved, darlin’, that you’d beg your daddy’s friend to stick it to ya?”

“You’re one to talk,” you smirk. “What is it you said? A bit dry lately, right?”

“I clearly got more self control than you, hun.”

You say, “Nah.” Your smirk widens, and you take another dangerous step towards him. “You’re hard as a rock, Joel Miller. Bet you were thinking about sticking it to me all along. That’s why you came back, huh? Get another glimpse of me for your spank ban-”

Joel seals the distance between you two, fist going to curl up around your jaw and squeezing. Your mouth pops open, a choked whimper dislodging from your lips. “You got batteries behind that register?” He asks, voice stern. His eyes are all pupil, plunged into black. You struggle to nod in his grasp. “Grab ‘em.”

He leaves you standing in front of the door, buzzing with nervous energy as he walks towards the vibrator section. Your stomach does what feels like ten cartwheels in a row. You lean over to the door, flipping the sign to closed and drawing the curtain shut before practically jogging to the batteries.

You grab the type your beloved wand takes, not even concerned with cashing him out before he’s in front of you again, slicing into the box with his truck keys. You slide the batteries over, and he’s peeling apart the plastic to expose your favorite pink wand, armed with six different settings that never fail to make you come. You only notice you’re rubbing your thighs together again when he gives you a sharp look while he’s popping the batteries into the proper compartment.

He pats the counter. “Up.” You hop up, maybe too eager, your eyes big and needy. Joel grabs you by the shoulder and leans you back, starting to work on the button of your jeans. “This is how this is gonna go,” he says, voice hardened with an order. “You want me to stop, say so. I’m gonna put this wand on your achy little clit, gonna make you feel better, because you ain’t slutty enough to be humpin’ a chair.” You nod so fast that you’re surprised your head doesn’t fall off. “Not gonna give you my cock, got it?”

“G-got it,” you get out shakily. He taps your hip, and you arch off of the counter so that he can yank your jeans and panties down, leaving you spread out and exposed.

 Joel spreads you with his pointer and middle finger. “Shoot, baby, you poor thing.” He runs a thumb through your seam, thumb coming up sticky with your wetness. “Drippin’ like a faucet.” He brings his thumb up to the corner of your lips, and you greedily take it into your mouth, tasting your musk off of his callouses.

“That’s it, suck it like a good slut,” he coaxes as you run your tongue along his skin. He pulls away with a pop and weighs the wand in his hand. Flicking one of the buttons with his freshly-sucked thumb, the toy whirrs to life and thrums in his large hand.

You squirm below him and his intense gaze, gripping the edge of the counter for any semblance of purchase you can get. Without warning, he places the toy down onto your clit. Your vision crackles black at the edges as you cry out. You writhe underneath him, hips helplessly bucking. Joel laughs, the bastard that he is, and rolls it along your sensitive nub. It moves freely with the help of your wetness, and even on the lowest setting, it’s more than you thought it would be.

It helps that Joel’s the one using it on you, knowing just went to add extra pressure and lift up, and it also helps that you’ve been untouched by even yourself for the majority of the last week. You push your palms down on the counter and desperately grind your hips against the wand’s head. Your head lolls back, the neon signs on the wall behind you shining on your sweat-slick skin. 

Joel flicks between two of the settings, a constant push and pull between low and a little higher, the sort of sensation that has your stomach stirring. “That feel good, hun? Better than rubbin’ this needy pussy on that stool, I bet.” You let out a pitchy sound of half-disagreement, half-pleasure in response, managing to push yourself up on shaking elbows to get a good look at him. He’s still hard, if not more than he’d already been, rolling the wand in easy motions against you. “Shh, it’s okay, baby. Not a bad thing that you only think with your cunt. ‘S cute,” he coos at you. His words make you gush.

“M-more,” you rasp, hips stuttering. You crave more, more of him, even though he’s already denied you that much. There’s a supernova of need flaring inside of you, enough to crack your lips into a ragged moan. Your cunt tightens, squeezing out more of your arousal. You crave him inside of you, buried deep and rolling his hips into you. “Joel, I need – need your cock.”

He turns it up, notches it to a faster pace that engraves pleasure onto your swollen clit. “No you fuckin’ don’t. Quit your mealy mouthin’ and take what I give you. You were ‘bout to spray your whore cum all over that chair, this should be more than enough.” Joel punctuates his sentences with hard jabs of the wand against you, drawing pathetic moans from your chest.

“J-J-Joel! Fuck!”

“J-J-Joel,” he mocks above you, shaking his head. His dark hair flops around with the movements and his tongue sneaks out to lick his lips while he watches you quiver below. “Yeah, you’re in heat alright.” Joel’s hand goes to the hem of your shirt and yanks it up, and your trembling hands help him lower the cups of your bra so he can grab and knead your tits.

His thumb circles your nipple when he turns it up to the highest setting, the one that makes your clit go numb and your back arch. You hardly have time to choke out, “Cl-close!” before Joel rubs the wand just right.

As your orgasm soars through you, you can hear him saying Attagirl, give it to me, so pretty when you come through the veil of your hearing’s fuzziness. You whimper, still rolling your hips as your fingers clamp around his over your tit, and he rubs circles into your palm while you ride it out. “That’s it,” he says when you come down fully, starting to shiver away from the pressure of the vibrator. He lowers it until it stalls in his hand and sets it down on the packaging.

“Good?” he asks, reaching up to stroke your cheek.

“Good,” you nod with a tiny little sigh.

You manage to haul yourself up fully onto your elbows, thighs still trembling. When you look him up and down, you notice two things: there’s the tiny etching of guilt in his eyes, but his cock is definitely still hard. Joel breathes out your name when you reach for him, cupping his sizable bulge through his pants. He hisses. “Can’t be doin’ that, baby.”

“Why?” you ask, lips contorted into a pout. “Because you’re scared you’ll bend me over and fuck me?” You feel his cock twitch under your hand. His resolve is breaking, and you’re loving it. “Just the tip, Joel.”

He winces from your words, but he looks at you, right down to your still-dripping cunt where your release trickles down your inner thighs and your seam. When you spread yourself out for him like he had done and run your finger tip along your opening, that seems to be the last straw. Joel curses under his breath and g0es to make quick work of undoing his belt with one hand, his other still holding yours. “Ju– just the tip,” he reiterates, voice stony. 

Joel pulls himself free, groaning when his cock springs up. A noise of surprise catches in your throat when you see him in full. He’s even bigger than he looked in his jeans – which you had no idea was possible. “Don’t worry, darlin’. Just gonna give you the tip, remember?”

“Yeah,” you exhale on a shaky breath.

Despite his insistence, he still reaches out for the condom display next to you, already popping a box open. You grab his wrist urgently, shaking your head. “Don’t need one. Want – want you like this.”

“We shouldn’t,” he says, still holding the box. “I mean, hun, this joint is literally called Condom Sense. Oughta have some, shouldn’t we?”

“Don’t care.” You gather some of your cum on your fingertips, wrapping them around his head so you can brush over his slit. His hips jump, a dead giveaway to what his answer will be.

He grunts, tossing the box somewhere off to the side. “You protected? Clean?” You nod, victorious. “Alright,” Joel sighs. Apparently coming all over his fleshlight isn’t enough, because Joel bends over the counter and dips his head to press his lips against your clit, kissing before he sucks gently on it. You yelp, but quickly feel that heat returning and sparking in your core. He licks at your entrance, swirling his tongue around. “Taste fuckin’ delicious, baby.” You have a feeling he isn’t prepping you for the tip anymore, even more so when he pulls back to feed your cunt two of his fingers.

You whine, desperately rolling your hips down against his thick fingers, fucking yourself down on him as he opens you up properly. He curls his fingers, rubbing that spongy spot inside of you. Your stomach twitches. “That it?”

“Mhm,” you whine, and he starts thrusting his fingers in and out of you, always sure to brush your g-spot. The heel of his palm slaps against your clit and you whine, looking at where his fingers fuck into you. It’s an obscene view, his knuckles drenched in your juices while you clench down around him.

“Good girl,” he sighs when he finally pulls his fingers from you. He gets a good grip on his cock, rubbing the head through your slippery, sensitive folds. He coats it in your arousal before notching it at your opening. When he pushes in, he stays true to his word so far, but the tip is enough to make the room spin all over again. You squeeze down on him and he groans a rough, “Fuck. So goddamn tight.”

His words make you clench again, and his head tips to meet your shoulder blade, body poised at an awkward angle while he fights to stay at least partially outside of you. “Didn’t expect you to feel this fuckin’ good, sweetheart. So fuckin’... good.” He gives you shallow thrusts with the tip, just barely enough to slip in and out of you. His teeth sink into your shoulder as if trying to keep himself quiet, trying to steel himself into remembering who he’s on top of and who he just made come. 

“Joel,” you whine, carding a hand through his hair and tugging lightly until he brings his eyes on you. “Fuck me.”

For once that night, it’s enough. With his eyes on you, he eases into you, groaning with every inch he gives you until he’s bottomed out in your cunt. With all of Joel’s prepping, there’s no pain, only the fullness of what it’s like to throb around him, to leak down his cock. Your fist tightens in his hair when he pulls out of you only to slam back into you. You look down where his body almost covers yours, and through your silhouettes, you can see the stretch of your arousal sticking to his happy trail, stretching between your skin. The room does spin, now, a blur of pink and pleasure.

Joel says, nipping at your ear, “This what you wanted? Wanted me to stretch you out, make you take my cock like the whore you are?” He rolls his hips into yours and effortlessly finds your g-spot like before. Your legs scramble for purchase, wrapping around his waist and pulling him flush against you. His happy trail, spattered with your arousal, rubs against your clit. You grind your hips down, dig your nails into his biceps, desperate to meet his thrusts. When you don’t respond, he pinches your nipple, and your legs wind even tighter around him in surprise.

“Yes! Wanted it – wanted it when you first walked in, fuck,” you whine.

Joel smirks into the place between your shoulder and neck, kissing up the expanse of your skin. “Horny little girl. Bet you went home so excited to put that wand on your pretty clit, only to find out it quit on ya.” You can only moan, boneless and foggy underneath him as he rocks his hips into you. “Fucked my fleshlight thinkin’ of you, but I bet you already knew that, didn’t you? Wanted to bounce you on my cock so bad. Fuckin’ choking me like I knew you would.”

“Fuck me like you fucked it, then,” you say in a rush, your whimpers still poking through your sentences. “H-hard, Joel, want it rough.”

Joel grunts, twitching inside of you from your request. “Shit, can’t say no to ya. Gotta have… gotta have a goddamn death wish or somethin’, baby.” With that, he finds a punishing, ravenous pace, the filthy noises of his body slapping against yours filling the store from wall to wall. He grins. “But you like it, dirty girl. Can feel ya gettin’ close. C’mon, gimme another, baby.”

You come with a cry, soaking his cock, eyes watering from relief while you grip him. Warmth seeps into your bones and turns your brain to mush, electric from dopamine. You go limp on the ledge while he continues fucking into you, voice filling your ears, “That’s it, that’s my girl, fuuuuck, way better than that fleshlight. Shoulda bent you over the counter and fucked you that first night.” You moan at the thought, pussy still clenching his cock. 

You’re too busy coming to notice him reaching to the side, retrieving the long-forgotten wand. You could scream when he touches it to your clit again on the medium setting, and then your thighs are shaking around him even stronger and you’re coming for the third time that night, launched from one orgasm straight into another with Joel hovering over you, still fucking into you. “Fuck, again?” he asks, voice layered with disbelief. “Such a messy pussy, baby. Drippin’ down my thighs. Gonna make it even messier, pump you full ‘a my cum, sweet girl.”

Your vision whites, palms slapping on the counter before he wraps his hand back in yours like before to ground you. You squeeze his hand and moan in response. He turns the vibrator back to low and keeps rolling his hips into you. “Close, baby, gonna shoot this load up your pretty pussy.” Joel’s forehead drops to the counter, still mouthing at your neck when you feel him jerk inside of you. You feel the warmth of his cum spill into you while you still flutter around him, his debauched moans filling your ear as he empties himself into your cunt.

Both of you are breathing heavily by the time he pulls away from you, you laying down on the counter and staring at the ceiling tiles. They’re unfocused and blurry in your post-orgasmic bliss. You blink yourself back to reality, giving him a look with your hooded, tired eyes. His chest rises and falls, mouth and softening cock smeared with your cum. He’s looking at you with the same eyes you’re giving him, something crossed between incredulity and shamelessness.

Joel fishes around in his back pocket before finding a red flannel handkerchief, which he’s careful to dab at your inner legs. You’re both silent until he separates from you with a peck to your forehead. “Did good for me. You’re, uh… really somethin’, sweetheart.”

You grin at him. “That mean this is gonna happen again?” You ask as he tucks himself away and buckles his belt. You stuff your tits back in your bra, pulling down your shirt and securing your pants and shoes from where they’d long fallen into piles on the floor.

“Don’t jump the gun, baby.” He rubs the back of his neck and licks his lips. “But I ain’t rulin’ it out.”

A cocky smirk tugs at your lips, and you hop fully off of the counter, tugging your jeans up your waist. Joel taps the vibrator box when you’re all done. “Cash me out?” he asks, stuffing the handkerchief back in his pocket and grabbing his wallet instead.

You nod, scanning the damaged vibrator box and batteries and reading off his total. You bag up the soaked vibrator, the on-the-house toy cleaner, and the rest of the batteries he’d bought. “Here you go,” you say, holding it out for him.

“Nah, hun. That’s for you. What use am I gonna get out of a vibrator unless it’s makin’ you come?” He pats the back of your hand and slides the bag across to you again.

You stare at him, fighting not to let your jaw loosen. “Joel… that’s a lot of money.”

“And you deserve to come as much as you want, got it, pretty girl?” He smiles at you with a shrug as if he hadn’t just wrung three out of you within an hour. “Besides, you have my number. You know who to ask if you ever need someone to talk you through it.”

You choke, nodding dumbly at his proposition. So definitely not ruled out.

“Thank you,” you say, bringing yourself to match his smile.

He gives your hand a squeeze and says, “See you later, sweetheart,” before heading out.

And sure, this entire thing is a tornado that could toss up your life like a trailer park, but for Joel? You’d let it happen.

[revenantlore]

Fax withers at the thought of anyone stealing his brother’s body, for any reason, but especially to take his bones, grind them up, and snort the dust.

that's fair :joy:

[revenantlore]

from mourn the day

Grave robbery is not unheard of, for the desperate derelicts of The Rotway are not beyond any means of fulfilling their addictions, but this hollow in the dirt bears no resemblance to that of an ordinary dig.

Usually they stick to the graves of Fangs, of those known to be infected without question. They have no reason to dig up someone like Pennant, blood pure and untainted.

Damp, loose soil at the grave’s edge sinks in the distinct shape of hand prints, fingers clawing their way up and out of the ground.

As if Pennant has risen from the dead.

Daily Sip 1/17

You can reblog this post.

You can make your own post.

You reblog someone else's snip!

Just tag it sipofsnips so everyone can find each other. ^.-

[wangxianficfinder]

In the mood for...

Oct 13th

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1. hi i want to read fanfics in which lwj saves wwx and wens. thank you!

IF by Remma3760 (Not Rated, 94k, WangXian, QingJue, Aftermath of Violence, Canon Divergence, Everybody Lives, Fix-It of Sorts, BAMF LWJ, Golden Core Reveal) LWJ immediately goes to the Jin camp, gets there first, & chooses to act to save the Wens

🔒 Sick Bed Reserved In Gusu Lan by scifigeek14 (T, 14k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Sick fic, Hurt/Comfort, Happy Ending, Golden Core Reveal, Fix-It) WWX & the Wens get sick & go to Gusu for help, & LWJ lets them in

~*~

2. Hello! Thank you for the amazing recs! Loving it! For the next In the mood for (hehehe I'm greedy), does anyone know any fics with Sect Leader Lan Zhan? Thank you! @lostandmessedup

🔒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, I killed Lan Zhan's family, No Yīn Iron, Sect Leader LWJ)

golden when the day met the night by glitteringmoonlight (Not rated, 95k, slow burn, sugar daddy LWJ, light, angst, fluff, developing relationship, eventual smut, WIP)

Discarded by teawater (E, 187k, WIP, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Dying Lan children, Hurt/Comfort, YL WWX, Golden Core Reveal, Case Fic, Depression, Family Issues, Self-Esteem Issues, Self Confidence Issues, Self-Worth Issues, Angst with a Happy Ending, and it’s not always dark, POV Multiple, BAMF WWX, dubious morals in the Lan sect Feels, Pining, Grief, Fix-It, BAMF LWJ)

Temptation by Karmiya (E, 23k, WangXian, JYL & WWX, WIP, Sect Leader LWJ, domestic abuse)

~*~

3. ITMF a) video game crossovers and b) fics where the boys playing video games is a big part of the story. 🎮 (Side note if a Stardew AU doesn't exist yet, someone really needs to get on that) @linderel

No A/B/O / Omegaverse, thank you

3A)

🔒 Season of Resurrection by Pyrrti (G, 1k, WangXian, Sky: Children of the Light Fusion, POV Multiple, Pre-Relationship, Reunions, POV LSZ, POV LWJ, POV WWX)

To Let It Bloom by Broken_Synchronicity (T, 2k, WangXian, WWX & Everyone, WIP, Modern with Magic, Stardew Valley Fusion, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, WCZ & CSSR are still dead sorry, Family Bonding, WCZ & JFM are related, Farmer WWX, Librarian LWJ, Genius WWX, MXY Lives, Grief/Mourning, WWX is gonna solve world hunger or die trying, Slow Burn, Getting to Know Each Other, Tall WWX) Omg I can't believe I didn't pay attention to 3 because HEY I STARTED WRITING A STARDEW AU FIC NOT A WEEK BEFORE THIS POST 🤣

Yearning for a Star by The_Gourmet_Gamer (M, 18k, WangXian, WIP, Modern, Inspired by Stardew Valley, Omega Verse, Alpha LWJ, Omega WWX, Misunderstandings, First Kiss, First Time, Angst with a Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, Forbidden Love, Jealous LWJ, Possessive LWJ, Magic)

3B)

Dreams of Cultivation by mortuus_lingua (M, 97k, WangXian, XiCheng, SongXiao, Themes, LWJ Uses Actual Words, Nonbinary NHS, Nonbinary XXC, BAMF WQ, Modern AU, Date Rape Drug/Roofies, Oblivious WWX, Protective JC, Cinnamon Roll WN, Developing Relationship)

5000 IQ hanguangjun gameplay scores him a boyfriend by orphan_account (Not rated, 5k, wangxian, streamer au, among us, getting together, identity reveal)

~*~

4. Hello, Itmf please 🤗

Want to read a scene where wq says to WY that jc won't be a good leader if lack of core breaks his will to leave. And blaming wy for lotus pier fall shows his lack of common sense and clear judgement. And maybe about choking and who will protect him afterwards? Like how can you trust this person as a leader and family member

Maybe about some ethics in wq.

Never Again by Hauntcats (T, 67k, WWX & WN & WQ, JC & WWX, wangxian, graphic depictions of violence, major character death, Canon Divergence, Angst, Golden Core Transfer Fix-It, Time Travel Fix-It, Not JC Friendly, Dark, BAMF WWX, mentions of abuse, Not Everyone Dies au, XY doesn’t have a happy ending)

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

Lay my body down by tawaen (M, 48k, WWX & WQ, WWX & WN, wangxian, WWX & JYL, Canon Divergence, Time Travel, Rogue Cultivator WWX, Eventual WangXian, No Golden Core Transfer, Not Cultivation World Friendly, Canon-Typical Violence, Not JC Friendly, What if WWX saw the first siege of the burial mounds and said Nope to the war, OCs, OC point-of-view for one chapter for plot reasons) Bonus: a core transfer doesn't happen but Wen Ning helps Wei Ying see how poorly he's been treated by Jiang Cheng in the second chapter

~*~

5. Hellour! This is for the next imtf,

Any fics where lwj's personalities just like flips? Maybe he gets hit with a curse or a talisman and suddenly those repressed lonely teenage boy is out in the open. It can be post-canon or in the cloud recess arc i dont mind. Any au works. (but no wip please! Or any time travel fics)

beneath six layers of silk by darkredloveknot (enheduane) (E, 12k, WangXian, Post-Canon, Canon Compliant, Getting Together, Confessions, Curses, Embarrassment, Vulnerability, Swearing, Dirty Talk, Hand Jobs, Angst, Fluff, Smut, Honesty, Communication, beneath six layers of silk by darkredloveknot [podfic] by Rhea314 (Rhea) )

old wounds, like hidden ghosts by wordsonpage (T, 2k, WangXian, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Post-Canon, Established Relationship, Dark LWJ, but like accidentally, Angst and Feels, Happy Ending)

Rarely Pure and Never Simple by thunderwear (Not Rated, 3k, WangXian, Post-Canon, Truth Spells, Curses, First Kiss, Love Confessions, Post CQL, Getting Together)

The Meaning of Silence by The Silverfish (ZephyrAndTheSilverfish) (T, 14k, wangxian, Mind Manipulation, Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Pining)

~*~

6. Hello, I wonder if there is some fic where Nie Huaisang is sect leader for some time. And I don't mean post canon or post Mingjue's death. I mean mostly when Nie Mingjue is alive and well but Nie Huaisang was made to be acting sect leader for whatever reason or temporary reason.

Wandering Eyes (That Nie Mingjue will gouge out if he notices, Father, STOP) by AstaraelWeeps (M, 14k, 3zun, NHS & JGY, time travel, fix it, scheming)

~*~

7. Looking for fic that treat Jiang Cheng as the complex character he is - Lynchpin is a fave because he's not "all good" just doing his best after learning some hard lessons. More of that kind of story? Happy ending and of course no JC bashing. @kimboo-york

Jiang Cheng Friendly / Yunmeng Bros Reconciliation

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

The worth of a life with no regrets by SnowdropsAndDreams (Not Rated, 43k, WIP, WangXian, Time Travel Fix-It, Canon Divergence, Self-Indulgent, Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Twin Prides of Yúnmèng Feels, Twin Prides of Yúnmèng Dynamics, Yúnmèng Siblings Feels, JC & WWX Reconciliation, Post-Canon Fix-It)

The crow, the owl and the dove by GoschateWabn (T, 39k, WIP, WangXian, JC & WWX, Time Travel Fix-It, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Sunshot Campaign, JC Needs a Hug, Twin Prides of Yunmeng Dynamics, Fluff and Humor, Protective JC, BAMF JC, BAMF WWX, Sect Leader WWX, Canon Divergence, Oblivious WWX, JC is So Done, No Golden Core Transfer, JC Has No Golden Core)

Drowning in the Sun by Zelos (T, 8k, JC & WWX, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Golden Core Transfer, Canon-Typical Violence, Brotherly Love, Sunshot Campaign, Family Dynamics, Grief/Mourning, Angst, Twin Prides of Yúnmèng Feels, Twin Prides of Yúnmèng Dynamics, 🔒 [Podfic] Drowning in the Sun by flamingwell)

❤️ whipstitch by curiositykilled (M, 131k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Dysfunctional Family, Torture, WWX Lives, but basically no one else, Case Fic, Cultivation Sect Politics, Past Abuse, WWX Whump, YLLZ WWX, JL Needs a Hug, JL Tries, Yunmeng Bro Reconciliation, Past Character Death, Body Horror, Non-Consensual Body Modification, POV Alternating, Flashbacks, Eventual Happy Ending, Heavy Angst, Suicide Attempt, PTSD, Depression, Not A Fix-It, Mouth Sewn Shut)

basically anything by Lise that has Jiang Cheng as a character but especially With Absolute Splendor by Lise (T, 43k, WangXian, JC & WWX, Post-Canon, Wedding planning, Yunmeng Bros Reconciliation, Complicated Relationships, Angst with a happy ending)

some good mistakes by Lise (T, 18k, WangXian, JC & WWX, JC & LWJ, Road Trips, (terrible road trips), Post-Canon, Rescue Missions, Hurt/Comfort, ish, Awkward Conversations, POV JC, JC & WWX Reconciliation, (ish they’re working on it), [Podfic] some good mistakes by kisahawklin)

Listen to the Ocean (Hear it Break) by TheQueen (T, 3k, ChengQing, JC & WWX, WQ & WN, Canon Divergence, Golden Core Reveal, Character Study, Unreliable Narrator, Angst, Hurt No Comfort, Angry Grape Boy hurts everyone around him and himself, Twin Prides of Yúnmèng Feels, Family Dynamics)

From Yunmeng, Unsent by isozyme (T, 5k, JC & WWX, epistolary, angst, canonical character death, nightmares, canon compliant)

JC and WWX’s Get Along Sweater series by newamsterdam (T, 29k, JC & WWX, Trapped In A Closet, Cultivation as Plot Device, Reconciliation, Miscommunication, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Panic Attacks, Unresolved Emotional Tension, Novel Spoilers, Post-Canon, Canon-Typical Violence, Night Hunting, Ghosts, Action/Adventure, Brotherly Love, Complicated Relationships, Yunmeng Shuangjie)

~*~

8. For ITMF, I would like to read a post-canon fic where Jin Ling renounces his claim on the Sect Leadership of the Jin and instead becomes the Sect Heir for the Jiang. A focus on the politics and personal feelings/consequences at some point would be lovely. Preferably non-wangxian-centric and no JC bashing. Thanks! @jensownzoo

~*~

9. In the mood for fics where the juniors love WWX and he is a fun/good senior they love and look up to alot. Thank you! @stormblessed95

🔒❤️ Joy In the Midst of These Things Series by Glitterbombshell (T/G, 53k, WangXian, Angst with Happy Ending, Post-Canon, Teacher WWX, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff)

Glow by Quiet_crash (G, 2k, WangXian, LSZ & WWX, Junior Quartet, JC & WWX)

Linger in the Sun by etymologyplayground (T, 39k, wangxian, JC & WWX, Case Fic, Intimacy, Curses, Canon Compliant, Post-Canon, Cuddling & Snuggling, Getting Together, Romance, Sexual Tension, Scent Kink, WWX Loves To Teach, wangxian are married, Fluff, nonsexual intimacy, Scars, Sharing a Bed, Nonverbal Communication, this is HEAVY on the symbolism, Translation in Russian)

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

Proximity To Knowledge by ChilianXianzi (T, 7k, wangxian, Post-Canon, Married Wangxian, Chief Cultivator LWJ, Teacher WWX, Inventor WWX, And his research assistant Lan ducklings, LQR is not a good educator, the kids are alright, WWX did online learning before it was cool)

Trust by FlyingMachine1 (G, 8k, WWX & the Junior Ensemble, Junior Quartet Dynamics, Junior Ensemble Shenanigans, background wangxian, BAMF WWX, Humor)

your words upon my lips by uchiuchi (T, 17k, WangXian, Post-Canon, Fluff, Curses, no sad times only good times, Canon Compliant, Romance, they are married!!, Let LWJ Say Fuck, Case Fic)

~*~

10. hi this is a itmf!!

hi fellow wangxian fic lovers at this point in the fandom i feel like ive read every good written wangxian fic out there im looking for any hidden gems you guys have im talking 10k hits beautiful plot or story anything that just immediately makes u kudos or bookmark it, it can be any au tags whatever im not picky i just ask for atleast over 10k words :))) @yesibest

i guess i'll have to change my plan by darjeelinh (E, 35k, 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, Loss of Virginity, Misunderstandings, Separations, Reunions, wangxian canon Elopement™️ shenanigans, now with art) absolute love in first read

swallowing rocks, swallowing peach skins by AvoOwO (M, 24k, WangXian, Cloud Recesses Study Arc, Angst, Hurt WWX, Hurt LWJ, Canon-Typical Violence, Drowning, Torture, Threats of Violence, Death Threats, Choking, Stabbing, Major Character Injury, POV LWJ, Smart LWJ, Smart WWX, Murder, Kidnapping, Gags, Protective LWJ, Pining LWJ, Drugs, Vomiting, Literal Sleeping Together, WWX Has PTSD, Food Issues, Sharing Clothes, Hair Brushing, Hair Braiding, Angst with a Happy Ending, Heavy Angst, Soft WangXian, Angry WWX, Caretaking, Food as a Metaphor for Love, the mortifying idea of being known, Suicidal Thoughts, Angry LWJ)

who cares when you're gone by camellialice (M, 22k, WangXian, background SongXiao, Hades (Video Game) Fusion, Canon-Typical Levels of Self-Sacrifice, Canon-Typical Levels of Spitting Up Blood, Canon-Typical Levels of Pining)

‘Let’s go home.’ by Crowgirl (E, 27k, WangXian, Coffee Shops & Cafés, LQR's Excellent Parenting, Meet-Cute, First Kiss, First Time, First Meetings, Pining, Mutual Pining, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Angst with a Happy Ending, Modern AU, Past XiYao, past emotional abuse, Past Emotional Manipulation)

Rebirth of a Wretched Mayfly by marikazz (M, 15k, WangXian, Time Loop, Time Travel, Groundhog Day, Suicidal Thoughts, Violence, Not Really Character Death, Panic Attacks, Self-Harm, Mental Health Issues, Trust Issues, Hurt WWX, Miscommunication, Heavy Angst, It Gets Worse Before It Gets Better, Whump, Feelings Realization, WWX is Not Okay, Mental Breakdown, Canon-Typical Violence, Existential Angst, Dissociation, Suicide, Angst with a Happy Ending, Misunderstandings, POV WWX)

🔒take me home (where i belong) by scarletwanlian (E, 153k, WangXian, Slice of Life, Modern, College/University, PTSD, Trauma, Dissociation, Music, Strangers to Lovers, Friends to Lovers, Depression, Running, Hurt/Comfort, Recovery, Injury Recovery, mental recovery, Mental Health Issues, Non-Sexual Intimacy, AND sexual intimacy, Literal Sleeping Together, and sleeping together, First Time, ace characters, also aro characters, and aroace character, Families of Choice, Car Accidents, Found Family, Flashbacks, Nightmares, gore elements somewhat, descriptions can get a bit gorey at times, Eventual Happy Ending, Sad with a Happy Ending, Healing, Character Study, Grief/Mourning, Survivor Guilt, Whump)

Who You Gonna Call? by Beltenebra (E, 15k, WangXian, Ghost Hunters, Modern with Magic, Minor ChengSong, Anal Sex, Paranormal Investigators, Mild Blood, Mild Horror, Ghosts, Demons, Fluff and Humor, Case Fic)

Légèreté by perkynurples (T, 65k, WangXian, Modern au, Horse riding, Swords as horses, Crack treated seriously, Friends to Lovers)

From the Ashes by mostlynonsense (travelingpsycho) (E, 83k, WangXian, Hurt/Comfort, Science Fiction, Slow Burn, Found Family, Happy Ending, Angst with a Happy Ending, IN SPACE!, Space)

🔒我拿青春赌明天 / I’ll wager my youth against tomorrow by tombenough_and_continent (T, 37k, WangXian, Science Fiction, Historical, Time Travel, ...they're time-travelling enemy agents writing each other love letters, Purple Prose, Enemies to Lovers)

A Wish I Can't Stop Making by Tirielle (T, 51k, XuanLi, WangXian, Memory Loss, Slow Burn, Mystery, Secret Identity, Wishes, Magic, Canon, JYL Lives, JZX Lives, JGY Redemption, Character Death, Canon-Typical Violence, Implied/Referenced Sexual Assault, Hairpins as a metaphor for love, Idiots in Love)

transmuter by WithLoweredVoices (Not rated, 113k, wangxian, Modern with Magic, Magical Realism, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Angst with a Happy Ending)

Lovesong of the Square Root of Negative One by honeydrip (lmeden) (M, 55k, WangXian, JC & LWJ, JC & WWX, Modern, Blood and Gore, Elements of Horror, Elements of magical realism, Layered Narratives, A Story Within a Story, POV Multiple, Slow Burn, Not Everyone Dies)

Scapegoat by FinallyGotTheInvitation (E, 276k, WangXian, Modern, Trials, Lawyer LWJ, Defendant WWX, Courtroom Drama, False Accusations, Criminal Investigation, Threats of Violence, Death penalty, well not actually but there's threats of it, Hurt WWX, Protective LWJ, Childhood Trauma, Murder Mystery, Pining, Soft WangXian, Fluff and Angst, Slow Burn-ish they have a trial to get through, Domestic Bliss, Happy Ending, Found Family, Bad Parent YZY, neutral JC, Good Sibling JYL, Neutral LXC, Bad Uncle LQR, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, POV Alternating, Pining while fucking, Belly Bulge, Gentle Sex, Smut, languid sex, Angst, Kissing, Neck Kissing, all other ways to say 'emotionally horny sex' ok, Eventual Smut, porn in chapter 15, Praise Kink, Homophobia, chapter specific TWs will be in top notes, Power Play, Power Imbalance, Wet Dream, porn in chapter 27, blowjob, slight breathplay, Size Kink, porn in chapter 29, Breeding Kink, sex wrestling, Tickling, WWX is a Brat, porn in chapter 30, Illustrations)

after hours by mellowflicker (E, 10k, WangXian, Modern AU Slice of Life, Age Difference, Older LWJ, Hurt/Comfort, Father-Son Relationship, Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, Top/Bottom Versatile | Switch LWJ)

~*~

11. I’m in the mood for fics with bodily possession. Just any fic where lwj or wwx are possessed or under control of someone or something. Thank you!

Mud on Your Feet by AvoOwO (Not Rated, 59k, WangXian, JC & WWX, Nightmares, Sentient Burial Mounds, Burial Mounds, Possession, Panic Attacks, Night Terrors, Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Good Sibling JC, Hurt WWX, Soft WangXian, Feels, Blood and Injury, Hallucinations, Delusions, JC Loves WWX, Insomnia, Good Sibling WWX, Sleepwalking, Sleeptalking, LWJ just wants to sleep with his husband, Protective JC, WWX Sees Dead People, LJY pulls through, POV LWJ, Cloud Recesses, PTSD, Post-Canon, YLLZ WWX, resentful energy, Fluff, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Thirteen Years of WWX’s Death, WWX’s Three Months in the Burial Mounds, Angst with a Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, WWX is tired, LWJ literally just wants to sleep with WWX again is that too much to ask for??, Soft JC, Yunmeng Siblings Feels) in this wwx IS possessed by smth, I can't say what cuz it's a spoiler, just mentioning that it is almost like possession even tho the summary doesnt seem like it :)) enjoy

in your skin by darkredloveknot (enheduane) (E, 10k, WangXian, Post-Canon, Pre-Relationship, Getting Together, Horror, Body Horror, Blood and Gore, Angst with a Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, Love Confessions, Non-Consensual Body Modification, kinda??, Reflections over death and self-worth, mentions of canon suicide, Near Death Experiences, 🔒 [Podfic] in your skin by flamingwell)

old wounds, like hidden ghosts by wordsonpage (T, 2k, WangXian, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Post-Canon, Established Relationship, Dark LWJ, but like accidentally, Angst and Feels, Happy Ending) link in #5

Obedient and Bellicoseby thunderwear (T, 20k, Wangxian, Ella Enchanted AU, Canon Divergence, Fix-It, cursed LWJ, Angst with a Happy Ending, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Good brother LXC, LQR loves his nephews you cant change my mind, LWJ crying, Protective LXC, Pining, First Kiss, Love Confessions, Brief Depictions of Violence, meaning at least one of the people you really want to get stabbed does in fact get stabbed)

The Meaning of Silence by The Silverfish (ZephyrAndTheSilverfish) (T, 14k, wangxian, Mind Manipulation, Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Pining) link in #5

🔒 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)

~*~

12. I'm asking for canon era fics with lots and lots of hugs between the juniors and Wei Ying. I don't care if the ducklings are grown ups or just little babies. Probably please both types. Just nothing below 40k please. @constellationdks

~*~

13. Can you find me fics where cultivation sects gets punished for their unfairness. All sects gets punished not even Lan and Nie are left out.

~*~

14. Hey, itmf for fic post Wei's supposed death scene where Lan Zhan is punished (those beatings from cql) and then spends his solitary confinement in the cold cave. I am mostly interested in fics with depressed Lan Zhan who refuses to speak to anyone and/or gives up on his duties afterwards and just wastes away in that cave (instead of whatever he was supposed to be doing during those three years). It can even have suicide attempt or running away attempt. Thank you.

A Life Without Regrets by naqaashi (M, 163k, WangXian, JFM & WWX, JC & WWX, WRH & WWX, LXC & LWJ, LQR & LWJ, LWJ & NHS, Canon Divergence, Time Travel Fix-It, Angst and Humor, Angst with a Happy Ending, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Crack Treated Seriously, Slow Burn, Mutual Pining, Rogue Cultivator WWX, Murder Husbands, PTSD, BAMF WWX, Cultivation Sect Politics, Genius WWX, Cultivation Theory, Sentient Burial Mounds, Dysfunctional Family, Grief/Mourning, Angry WWX, No Golden Core Transfer, BAMF LWJ, Angry LWJ, One-Braincell WangXian, Idiots in Love, Requited Love, Requited Unrequited Love, Soft WangXian, Married WangXian, Soulmates, Not Cultivation World Friendly, Immortal WWX, Canon-Typical Violence, Not JC Friendly, Not Yunmeng Jiang friendly, not gusu lan friendly, Immortal LWJ) ARGH! I know I've read several fics that fit for 14 but cannot find them for the life of me! The only one I found that comes close is chapter 5 in A Life Without Regrets where Lan Wangji reflects on choosing to live for A-Yuan after his punishment in his first life (it's a time travel fic).

~*~

15. hi! this is for itmf. do you perhaps know any fics that focus around lwj's insecurity or fear that he's becoming like his father or something of the like? :") thanks!

the year of drought by idrilka (E, 24k, WangXian, Post-Canon, Pining, Getting Together, Wedding Planning, Letters, Instructional Use of Gay Porn)

how do i forgive myself (for losing so much time) by thunderwear (M, 26k, WangXian, Age Regression/De-Aging, Kid Fic, Accidental Baby Acquisition, of sorts, Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Love Confessions, First Kiss, Sharing a Bed, yunmeng bros reconciliation, Fluff, Domestic Fluff, Pining, read end notes for warnings, Post-Canon) Lan Wangji's fears about being like his father are also a small part at the end

~*~

16. Hello! For the next ITMF does anyone knows fics where Wangxian adopts Lan Jingyi? @lostandmessedup

if i had the strength by agloeian (M, 16k, wangxian, Canon Divergence, Post-Sunshot Campaign, Hurt/Comfort, Getting Together, Fix-It, somewhat of a case fic, Heaven Official’s Blessing inspired gods & ghosts, No Spoilers for Heaven Official’s Blessing, Mild Alcohol Abuse, Mental Health Issues, WWX is not in a great place for a lot of this fic, He Gets Better Though!, this fic is all about learning to give yourself the help you give others tbh, Baby LJY, recovery fic, Accidental Baby Acquisition)

~*~

17. For ITMF, I'm interested in what people's favorite Lan Jingyi-centric fics are. Doesn't have to be from his POV, but he should be the focus. Any ships or no ships are fine. Thanks! @jensownzoo

anyway, here’s wuji by kakikaeru (T, 18k, ZhuiYi, WangXian, Post-Canon, Canon-Typical Violence)

Important Distinctions by nagi_blue (T, 5k, gen, Fluff and Crack, [Podfic] Important Distinctions by semperfiona_podfic (semperfiona)

you are my chosen family by jinyinhua (T, 14k, LSZ & LJY, wangxian, LJY & LSZ & LWJ & WWX, 5+1 Things, Good Kid LJY, Good Kid LSZ, Blood and Injury, Night Hunts, Drinking, Age Regression/De-Aging, Married Wangxian, Fluff and Humor, Found Family, Gūsū Lán Juniors Dynamics)

Why Not Me? by Eleanor_Fenyx (G, 26k, LJY & LQR, LQR & LWJ, LJY & LSZ, LJY & LWJ, good uncle LQR, LJY pov, war orphan LJY, character study, LJY has ADHD, found family, rejection sensitivity dysphoria)

❤️ The One-Body Problem by metisket (T, 29k, LJY & WWX, LJY & LSZ, wangxian, possession, cohabitation, Podfic by SeaNoodle) LJY gets possessed by the Yiling Patriarch

The Special Hell by MedeaWasRight (E, 73k, JC/LJY, Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Angst with a Happy Ending, Grief, implied eating disorder, Implied Bulimia, Vomiting, Drowning, JC runs a water park, Developing Relationship, Adopted Sibling Relationship, Sibling Rivalry, Mourning, LJY is the best Lan, peril in water, Reconciliation, Hospitals, physical assault, references to children in hospital) For a Jingyi-important fic, modern au, try this one from MedeaWasRight. It’s a 2nd part of a series, but it can be read as a standalone.

~*~

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!***

[revenantlore]

from mourn the day

Halifax feigns indifference to the source of Willym’s haul, fresh dirt still clinging to his fingernails as he offers the box over. Smells of rot, of death and mourning. Fax wrinkles his nose as he props the box on the table and pries it open, just enough to peek at its contents before he shuts it.

Bones damp with rainwater, hair and sinew still intact.

“How do I know this isn’t just ordinary bone?” he asks as his stomach roils.

“Smell it, Bertram, ‘n tell me that ain’t tainted with more’n death.” There is a grin bracing Willym’s dark lips, something sinister tucked in the corners as he shoves the box back into Fax’s grasp.

Fax is robbed of an opportunity to question it, a harsh sound echoing down the tunnels, his last name caught in the clipped and demanding voice. He swivels away from Willym, boots grinding on ash and rubble as he turns to face an eerie pair of empty, white eyes.

“Where is he? Where is Pennant?”

Fear slams against Halifax’s rib cage, jostling him so hard that his arms fade into involuntary shadow. Willym is quick to catch the box as it falls from Halifax’s trembling hands, giving Fax just enough time to steady himself. To will himself back to something whole.

Share an excerpt that includes the words "light" or "shadow."

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[mynameisjag]

Y'all are mean. Here’s a WIP using Jason from Gotham Knights.

There are no nice places in Gotham, especially in Jason's self proclaimed territory, anything new and shiny, quickly became tainted and broken.

So it was a surprise to him to see a little coffee shop had opened up near one of his safe houses, and he did mean small. Tucked away in a little corner, no sign pointing to the entrance to let one know you had to climb up stairway to the second story. Hidden away, quiet with its patrons never speaking loudly, the smell of baked goods didn’t even escape with each swing of the door.

He’s not exactly sure how he found it, and that should be concerning, since all he can figure out was that he was hungry for something, something that no matter what he made or bought couldn’t seem to satisfy. He just…led himself here…his feet taking him where he needed to go…

The atmosphere was quiet, drowsy and comforting like being smothered by one of those fancy blankets Bruce somehow always snuck in. The older man had seen to much of what cold weather could do to a body and the fear of finding any of his children like that lingered in his mind enough to risk traps to sneak in fluffy blankets to ease the worry.

It didn’t help that they were always black and reminded everyone of being curled up within Bruce's cape.

Just holding his cup of warm hot chocolate close and closing his eyes, he could practically feel the cover the cape that used to be able to hide him from the world. The comfort in heaviness around him, the ‘forbidden’ treat that Bruce got him because Alfred would surely be upset if he found out Jason was given sweets before bed. The rhythm of a slow and always steady breath that would lull him into a sleepy state.

Even with his slow sips, it seemed as though his drink ended too soon and opening his eyes to stare down into his empty mug caused the feeling before to slip away…leaving him feeling mournful…

Probably for the best, he could spend all his time here reminiscing about days that were long buried and forgotten about six feet under…

“Treat for the road?”

Jason tried not to let the server know that he actually managed to startle the vigilante by appearing out of nowhere, covering it with clearing his throat and trying to send a charming smile to young man, who just lifted an eyebrow in amusement.

Yeah, kinda hard to hide your body jerking back in surprise when your body is built like a fucking tank…

“Treat?”

This time Jason had managed to notice the tray the other was holding out to him, what appeared to be two muffins sat there, “What?”

Danny, if the name badge was telling the truth, just playfully rolled his eyes with a grin before gentle shaking the tray, “You looked like you could use a pick me up later, so here, on the house.”

“Umm, are you sure?”

“Positive, Beautiful.”

“Oh, you call all your customers Beautiful?”

“Only the ones that are and so far there has only been one,” Danny did a quick glance back over at the counter, noticing a line forming, before refocusing on him with a smile, “take the muffins and come back anytime.”

The plate was set down on the table with a wink and a sway of the hip as the guy headed back to the counter.

It wasn’t until later that night when Jason had stopped for a quick break, Dick stealing the other muffin, did they both noticed the small paper attached to the bottom…a phone number with a smiling face and the words ‘call me, Beautiful’.

There was no stopping the high pitched squeal that his older brother managed to make, “It’s just like a scene from Agent A’s shows!”

-*-

A glance at his mirror had him doubting…

Compared to his brothers, he always felt…not to standard of looks…

He knew he was a walking wall of a man, took pride in it when it came to making criminals literally piss themselves just at the mere sight of him

Dating…dating was harder to deal with then running a whole criminal organization…

Sure there were those that were more then willing to throw themselves at him because he fit their type but most of the time they didn’t fit his and it always ended up feeling one-sided with unmet expectations.

Even though he shouldn’t, he felt sliver of shame course them at the thought of how he wanted to be taken care instead of taking care of someone else. He was killer, he had blood on his hands, he could make others grovel at his feet with just a simple huff.

But he would love to just…not be that…for even just a little while…

To find himself curled up on someone’s lap, gentle hands soothing away his aches, and a voice telling him it was okay to just exist in that moment.

He glanced back at the number…maybe…he shouldn’t…

-*-

“Give the guy a chance!”

-*-

“Hey Beautiful, did you come back just to see little ole me or are you here just for my sweets?”

Jason could feel his face heating up.

-*-

Months passed…secrets revealed…

Finding out your boyfriend was either a crime lord/technically ‘Prince’ of the Realms was…honestly not the strangest thing they had gone through.

Really it just made everything fall into place when pieces started clicking together, it was abit of a rough talk…neither of then were particularly too good at having to sit down and have a serious talk.

But they made it...

Even if Jason couldn’t believe that out of everyone, Danny wanted him…and he could admit to himself at least…that he wanted the smaller man in all his forms…human or…the towering Ancient of Space…

Currently they were both were cuddling on their couch, half dressed and comfortable.

Danny was just staring up at him, eyes wide with actual sparkles, all lithe and pretty, all dangerous like a skillfully designed blade that only a master craftsman could forge.

He was powerful, bought about by surviving battles with God like beings, has seen worlds and universes, timelines…and he was cuddled up to Jason, looking at him as though he was the most amazing person he had ever come across.

“You're so pretty, Jason.”

“I’m built and I look like a wall…”

Danny was sitting up now, causing a deep blush to spread across the vigilante’s face as the smaller male settled on his chest, arms caging him in and face closing in till they were only a few inches apart, “Lovely, gorgeous, beautiful, I will not have you saying anything lower then that about yourself, I’d have to fight off every suitor that looked your way in the Realms. Strong, willful, a wonderful,” there was a deep purr that resonated through him into Jason, the feeling of absolute attraction echoing into him, “protector.”

“Oh…you like that I can protect others, huh?”

Blue eyes were slowly mixing into a turquois, the Halfa’s other side leaking through into his human form, the purring somehow intensifying, attraction melding with a burning desire that had Jason gulping at the feeling.

His hands slowly coming up to rub the tensed up legs that had caged him in, a flutter of want races through him, “You like how I protect my territory?”

“Protecting your territory, helping others, all without expecting something in return, so very pretty in your kindness, your selflessness, so very, very, pretty…”

“Oh?”

“Love your scars, want to kiss every one of them, give your sacrifices the appreciation they deserve, want to wrap you up and feed you sweets, want to wash the blood off after your fights and treat you gently, want you, just…I want you…”

Yeah, if it wasn’t for the intense, nearly smothering feeling of it in the air, Jason would have been clued in by the heaviness that was resting on his chest and the way his partner was panting with pupils blown wide.

Hands went from gentle petting to traveling along a tampered waist, under the oversized galaxy shirt, the muscles hidden underneath trembling at the soft caresses, the feeling of power being held back like a switchblade with a weakening spring lock came to his mind. Jason held that power in the palms of his hands, literally and figuratively, “You going to take care of me?”

A hiccup of the word yes as Danny’s arms began to tremble, he wanted to…do anything…anything that the beauty beneath him asked of him…wanted to do so much…but he wouldn’t do anything unless he was told to.

One hand slipped out from under the shirt to come up and caress Danny’s face, so gentle that he closed his eyes and rubbed his cheek into the calloused palm like an over eager cat, could feel his fangs slipping out, the purr turning into a rumble that was vibrating through both of their forms.

“Alright.”

Eyes snapped open to stare down at the vigilante, everything freezing for the moment, waiting to hear his permission again.

Jason just grinned up at him, “Alright, take care of me.”

The moment moved forward as Danny practically lunged himself into a kiss, hands desperately reaching and pulling, body shaking with anticipation…

-*-

The footsteps would have been unnoticeable to anyone but the trained and unfortunately got Jason, he was trained and he was able to recognize the step pattern.

“…mmm…Jay?”

“Go back to sleep, gotta take care of something real quick.”

“…miss you…”

“You’ll miss my body warmth, you adorable little leech.”

Silently moving out of the bed to creep toward the kitchen where he could hear two people whispering now.

No surprise when he found Dick and Tim being nosy as hell, one was in his fridge, the other trying to break into Danny’s laptop.

It also wasn’t surprising when the argument that broke out woke up Danny.

What was surprising was the state of dress…or really…undress the man appeared in.

Dick broke first.

“Why are you naked?”

“Because it’s,” a glance at the stoves clock, “2:30 am.”

Danny pushed past him, full ass naked and not giving a damn as he trotted over to the cabinet for a glass, “Break into people’s places, deal with the consequences.”

Tim was doing his best to not look at anything but the floor while Dick went the opposite reaction and took in the whole view, giving an appreciated glance over and even lingering on the areas with certain imprints.

“Little Wing! Are you not going to introduce us!?”

“Introductions are for reasonable hours,” the shortest of them casually filled the glass with water before turning to face them, taking a slow sip, “so in the most politest way I can put this, please get the fuck out of my apartment, I’m up, I’m awake before I should be, so I’m gonna rail my lovely boyfriend till we both pass out again and I’m not going to cover the mental scars you might get if you stay.”

“Oh, he is spicy!”

[nakahras]

᯽ lost in the fire • chuuya nakahara

synopsis • you’re next in line for the executive spot that’s been opened up by fyodor dostoevsky killing ace. the job was already practically yours, all you need is the expected unanimous vote from the rest of the executives to guarantee you the position. but when have your expectations ever been met?

warnings • lower case intentional, swearing, threats of violence, mentions of guns and knives, reader causes minor harm to chuuya, depictions of panic attacks, chuuya unintentionally mansplaining :)

wc • 6.5k

a/n • this fic was sm fun to write. i wanted to wait to post but all of my other wips are unfinished so you guys get this one early <3

reader’s ability: the emissary (yoko tawada) - the ability to manipulate money, wealth and anything related to them. the user can create, shape and manipulate money, currency and wealth; including coinage, notes, gems/jewels and anything that is used as currency. this also includes any currency that is digitalized.

secondary to physical currency, the user is also able to manipulate a person’s life currency: time. the user can take and give years as they please.

you’ve always considered yourself an extremely patient person. always the perfect picture of calm and collected in the face of frustration. you’ve been patient, waited your turn. you waited when dazai was given the colonel’s executive spot while you were “gifted” second hand to a man that you would compare to a snake — but that would be an insult to their species. you were patient with your superior, even though you loathed him and only reported to him under the request of mori himself. you were patient with your subordinates, the ones you had to manage because ace simply couldn’t be bothered to do so himself. then you were patient, again, and waited your turn when chuuya was gifted another emptied executive position after that. 

you bode your time, knowing that eventually it would come in due time. 

so, when it was reported to you that ace had kicked the bucket thanks to his arrogance and the aid of one fyodor dostoevsky, you were over the moon. if he wasn’t a current threat to yokohama and by association, the port mafia, you think you could kiss the russian. a huge, grating and irritating weight has finally been lifted from your shoulders and it has been all thanks to him.

your subordinates came to you gushing about how lucky you were to not get caught up in the crosshairs of that situation and get killed yourself. you almost snort at the irony. ace never wanted you near his ship, his suspicions of you being his handler (courtesy of mori of course) were growing stronger by the day. instead, he made you do all of his port mafia duties, including standing in as acting executive in meetings with the higher ups instead of going himself. you weren’t complaining though, you’d rather a bullet be put through your head then to step foot on that ship. you’re not and never have been immune to sea sickness.

it’s definitely safe to say you aren’t mourning ace. sure, he brought in extra funds, but your ability is just as - if not more - useful in funding mori’s whims as well as the port mafia. 

naturally, you’re expected to completely take over the role of executive following ace’s death. everyone expects it. you expect it. you’ve waited patiently for this day. you deserved this. the vote in the decision to make you an executive should have been unanimous. “should” being the operative word here.

you can tell kouyou is trying to deliver the blow as gently as she can but your eye is twitching and you’re clenching your fists so hard you can feel your freshly manicured nails digging into the palm of your hands, effectively breaking skin. “you have nothing to worry about, sunshine. just because the vote wasn’t unanimous, doesn’t mean mori isn’t still going to promote you. the vote is more of a formality. mori just has to let the dust settle before making his final decision.”

“i’m going to kill verlaine.” you don’t miss a beat, you’re seething, smoke practically billowing out of your ears. “he knows i’m more than capable of holding my own. i was practically an executive already.”

you miss the way kouyou gets tense at the mention of verlaine in your fit of rage but you don’t miss the way she smiles tightly at you. “verlaine wasn’t the one opposed to you being promoted…”

you immediately stop in your tracks. your mind reeling, trying to catch up with the new information kouyou has presented to you. there are only three of them now, since mori refuses to fill dazai’s spot and now with ace dead… if verlaine wasn’t the one to oppose and obviously kouyou didn’t oppose it, always supporting you — that only left… 

betrayal courses through your veins turning them into a frigid stream so bitter and cold that it stings. there is absolutely no way, right? you try to wrap your head around the implications of what kouyou just said. nauseous, you feel dizzy - sick. you’re going to throw up. you’ve always thought you’ve had chuuya’s support and with good reason because he’s always telling you so. 

actions speak louder than words.

the mantra rings loudly in your head. you’ve always been a strong believer in it, but chuuya? he preaches it constantly, firmly believing that words are worthless if they aren’t followed through with. you admire him for it  - you admire him for a lot of things, honestly - so hearing that he wasn’t practicing what he preached made your blood instantly heat up and boil, the previous cold bite of betrayal melting away.

kouyou takes a step closer and makes a risky calculation by reaching out and stroking your hair soothingly. “i’m sure he meant well, sunshine. you know he had to have a reason.”

“i don’t care if he had a reason. he lied to me, kouyou, and i’m going to find out why.” you bristle and gently but pointedly move away from the executive’s  touch. “where is he?”

“if he’s smart? hiding from you.”

᯽•᯽•᯽•᯽•᯽•᯽•᯽•᯽•᯽•᯽•᯽•᯽•᯽•᯽•᯽•᯽•᯽•᯽•᯽

kouyou is a traitor.

you think to yourself offhandedly while you storm through the hallways of base, looking for a certain gravity manipulator. the more experienced woman refused to tell you where the traitor was. her penchant for being protective over chuuya, while usually admirable, is highly annoying for this particular situation. so you silently curse her too.

you feel as if you’ve checked every nook and cranny in this building. you even checked the underground torture chambers in your delusional state — thinking maybe he set everything up, as well as himself, on a silver platter for you. of course you wouldn’t have actually done anything but the thought alone is therapeutic all the same. his office is naturally the first place you checked and the only place you have been periodically checking throughout your search. 

as a matter of fact, you’re headed to chuuya’s office for the fourth and final time. you were ready to call it quits, exhausted from the emotions swirling inside of you like a storm. you can’t quite let go of the fact that chuuya doesn’t think you are cut out for this kind of responsibility despite having already had it on your shoulders this entire time. sure you’re angry, you deserve this role. but mostly you’re simply hurt. he knew - no, he knows how hard you’ve worked for this, almost refusing his own offer in order to give it up to you. just so you wouldn’t have to deal with ace’s bullshit anymore.

so what the hell changed? maybe if you could find the bastard, you could ask, but someone must have tipped him off because you can’t locate him anywhere.

in your head, you are side eyeing kouyou so hard right now.

your mind is so preoccupied with cursing the orange haired duo that you aren’t paying attention to your surroundings. you’re caught off guard when you quite literally run into someone on your way to chuuya’s office. you’re almost knocked to the ground when long tendrils of cloth wrap around your waist to steady you.

akutagawa? what was the black-fanged hellhound doing here?

you internally flinch at the thought. you must be far more out of sorts than you originally thought because when have you ever referred to akutagawa by that ridiculous moniker? never. the answer is never. you’ve even endearingly referred to him as a lost puppy a few times just to get a rise out of him. you’ve been pleasantly successful in coaxing a blush out of him every time.

you pat the cloth reassuringly as a signal to let the younger man know you’re alright. “thank you, ryunosuke, for catching me and sorry about running into you. my head isn’t quite here today.”

akutagawa’s brow is creased as he nods. you take a moment to really acknowledge his presence as a distraction. you need to get a hold of yourself and focusing on something else would certainly do the trick.

akutagawa seems entirely too rigid with how tense his muscles are and his pursed lips. he doesn’t usually hold the most approachable expressions on a good day, but this is a little much even for him. you watch him tug on one of the silver rings adorning his bottom lip, one of his biggest nervous ticks — it’s always subtle, you wouldn’t even notice it if you didn’t know the younger man so well. his fingertips twitch around the envelope he’s holding and that’s when you realize the direction he was coming from.

that’s a mission assignment he’s holding and considering the only thing down this particular hallway is chuuya’s office…

your eyes narrow and gaze pointedly zeroes in on the report being held by his twitching hands.

“what’s that in your hand? it looks an awful lot like a mission assignment.” your eyes linger on the crisp envelope. it didn’t have the wear and tear akutagawa's reports usually had. so he had to have just been given the mission.

his only direct superior, other than mori himself, is chuuya. your eye twitches at the thought. he’s around here somewhere and you just got the confirmation you needed to know that the ginger is actively avoiding you. you suppose kouyou is right when she praises the man for being smart because at least he has enough sense to stay out of your way after making such a bold decision about your future in this organization before explaining it to you first. 

you watch the horror flit across akutagawa’s face when he realizes you know. the younger man shifts the envelope behind him in an attempt to hide it but he knows. he knows the damage has already been done. akutagawa has accidentally condemned chuuya to a fate probably worse than death, if the look on your face was anything to go by.

loyal to the very end, the high ranking subordinate shifts, almost as if to block the hallway behind him. you let out an exasperated sigh when you realize what’s going on. you neither have the time or energy for this game.

“akutagawa…i realize we’re technically of the same rank but we both know it’s best if you continue about whatever it is you were doing before running into me. understand?” the black and silver haired young man hesitates, feet still glued in place and you let out another annoyed sigh, this time pinching the bridge of your nose. “this is between me and your superior. don’t get yourself involved. i’m not going to kill him.”

akutagawa’s gaze shifts and eyebrows furrow as if…

oh this has to be a joke.

the sickly man is clearly on comms with someone and by the looks of it, whoever is on the other end is telling him to stand down because he finally moves to the side and out of your way. you’re fuming at this point, clearly your omission of not killing chuuya was enough to ease his mind but you never said anything about not hurting the coward. a fitting word for the ginger at this moment. far too cowardly to tell you the truth. far too cowardly to tell you his intentions. 

far too cowardly to face you afterwards. 

your perfectly manicured hand gently cups akutagawa’s shoulder and you lean into his ear, knowing his comm piece is snuggly nestled in it. 

“the first smart move you’ve made all day…” you’re leaning back as quickly as you were leaning in and offer your flustered colleague a sweet smile. “thank you for entertaining me, have a good rest of your day, ryunosuke!”

you leave akutagawa standing in bewilderment, wondering what the fuck just happenned as you practically skip down the hallway to chuuya’s office.

᯽•᯽•᯽•᯽•᯽•᯽•᯽•᯽•᯽•᯽•᯽•᯽•᯽•᯽•᯽•᯽•᯽•᯽•᯽

you blink 3 times. twice normally and then once harshly, squeezing your eyes shut tightly as if that would make chuuya appear before you. you’ve scanned over his office several times. even checking the wardrobe he keeps in there and under the desk. 

you stopped looking about 10 minutes ago and decided, instead, to glare at the open window you now assume the executive used to flee out of. 

coward.

you’re exhausted. you’ve been on this wild goose hunt all day, you just want to go back to your apartment and sleep. you know kouyou reassured you that chuuya’s vote wasn’t damning but you can’t help the anxiety creeping into your chest and crawling up your esophagus making it burn. you’re sick with the idea that you’ll never make it higher in this organization. always having to answer to more than just one person.

not only is chuuya a coward but he’s cruel too. lying to you all this time, giving you a false sense of security of where you stand with him. a false sense of hope had been blanketed over you by his honey filled lies.

you can feel your body begin to tremble, working yourself at the thoughts swirling a storm in your mind. you try to take a calming breath but it comes out shuddered. you lean against the front of chuuya’s desk and close your eyes as you allow your head to fall back. your face scrunches and you let out a frustrated groan while bringing your hands up to cover your face. your hands move up and fingers through your hair while taking a deep breath. you pick your head back up and finally reopen your eyes. 

you finally let out a sigh of defeat. chuuya’s won- for today- you’re officially resigning from your search. you can’t help but to give his office one last scan before kicking yourself off the almost comically huge desk and making your way to his door. 

you reach out for the door handle, grimacing. this can’t be how you end the day, you know you’ve resigned, but the thought of letting chuuya get away with this for the night makes your stomach churn. you stand there for a moment when a brilliant idea comes to mind. you want to try something. 

you turn the knob, open the door, count to 10, and then close the door. it takes all of  roughly 5 seconds for your plan to actually work. the room somehow seems to darken and that’s when you notice it, a strange shadow being cast from the ceiling behind you. a shadow that’s, oddly enough, in the same shape as one certain port mafia executive. your hand slowly drops from the door handle but not before effectively locking it. 

“hey, jackass, do you think you’re funny?” you start speaking before you turn around to look at him.

the ginger stops dead in his tracks. he’s trying to sneak back into his own office. despite your question to him you almost bark out a laugh at the absurdity of it. almost.

chuuya blanches, staring at you with wide eyes and you watch as he contemplates running, eyes darting back to the opened window. 

“you better not be trying to haul your carrot top ass out that window right now. you and i need to have a word, but i’m not talking to you like this. get off the damn ceiling.”

the executive gives you a weary look and decidedly does not come down from the ceiling, where he’s deemed safe from you.

 your eye twitches, patience having thinned a long time ago. “port mafia executive, nakahara chuuya, get your ass down here. right. now.” 

 chuuya prides himself in not flinching at your tone and use of his title. so much so that he thinks he might let it get to his head a little too much when he says, “y’know, doll, when trying to coax someone into doing something, they don’t usually respond well to demands.”

your expression hardens and nostrils flare, chuuya doesn’t think he’s ever seen you this upset. he tries to conjure up a sane reason as to what possessed him to say something like that to you in this situation. he only comes up with one viable answer: sheer visceral stupidity. he’s simply an idiot. the ginger contemplates letting you kill him right then and there in this moment. he deserves it, especially after that comment.

you don’t miss a beat. your hand raises, gun in a vice grip and you shoot. one, two, then three quick and scattered shots. you know well he can stop them easily. in fact you planned on it. you needed him distracted as you reach your other hand around to your thigh holster and grasp your throwing knife. while preoccupied by the bullets you toss the knife right next to his head, the chain on his hat breaking and the knife taking a small slice of chuuya’s cheek and ear with it before lodging into the ceiling as a warning.

you’re both still for a moment, chuuya looks oddly impressed while you’re trying to figure out what just happened, having blacked out in your fit of rage. 

“…well. ‘spose i can’t say i didn’t deserve that…” chuuya lets out a nervous chuckle but clearly you’re not amused.

in fact, you look even more irate than before. 

“really? really, chuuya? this isn’t a joke. i’m. tired. do you know what i’ve been doing all day? actually- of course you know what i’ve been doing all day because you’ve been avoiding me all day. tell me- did you take brain damage the last time you were in corruption? did that freak let you simmer in that state just a little too long? it’s the only reasonable explanation i’ve come up with all day for what you did in that executive meeting-“ you let out a frustrated noise as your words start to blend together the longer you speak and your neck screams at you. ”jesus christ, chuuya, would you get down from that god damn ceiling? my neck is starting to hurt and that’s the last thing i need right now-” 

your voice breaks off, the storm of emotions that you’ve been successfully avoiding all day pouring over you all at once. your chest is constricting, feeling as if it’s caving in on itself. your breathing is labored and you recognize that the looming anxiety has finally taken over. your body is trembling. you need to breathe. in through your nose and out through your mouth. you try, you swear you try to concentrate on your breathing but the only person that’s been able to get you out of this state successfully refuses to get off that godforsaken ceiling.

you count.

one.

two.

three.

four.

five.

what’s your favorite color? favorite meal? what's something you could touch and feel in this very moment? your necklace. the one with your birthstone nestled on a silver teardrop frame. you reach for it and rub the sizable stone between your fingers. it’s been a while since you’ve needed to ground yourself in this way, but it still works like a charm. 

it all feels like it’s happening in slow motion but in reality in was only a few minutes. not even enough time for chuuya to make the full decision to come down from the ceiling and approach you. his feet are landing on the ground as you tune back into reality.

your blurred vision clears and zeroes in on the way the gravity manipulator takes a hesitant step towards you. he watches the way your gaze instantly sharpens and he takes the hint in staying put. he even goes as far as to raise his hands up in a way that tells you he’s admitting defeat.

”i just want to make sure you’re okay…”

you let out a humorless laugh. “maybe if you’d explain yourself, i would be.”

chuuya let’s out a long sigh, clearly having dreaded this all day. he knew your reaction would be less than savory, how could it not be when he was showing you that he thought the opposite of what he’s been telling you all these years. he didn’t want to face you so soon because he wasn’t even sure he had an answer. it took 5 hours and 37 minutes for him to come to a conclusion. 

the ginger swallows thickly as his bicolored gaze fixes onto yours. “becoming an executive… it demands a lot of someone…”

there he goes, being vague as he usually is when it’s clear there’s something he doesn’t want to discuss. he knows, he knows why he voted no in that meeting but you can’t figure out why he just won’t tell you. instead he’s trying to give you a lesson on the position you’ve been coveting for over five years now, ever since dazai had taken up his position as the youngest port mafia executive in history. 

you blink at him in utter disbelief. “i know what becoming an executive entails, chuuya.”

“that’s… i didn’t mean it like that, hell, i know you’ve been told and seen some of it but you were hardly ever with ace. i know that bastard kept you occupied with busy work.”

a smile stretches at your lips but it’s thin and doesn’t reach your eyes and it’s almost mocking. then a humorless laugh slips past your lips as you shake your head in obvious exasperation. chuuya starts to panic when you begin to pace, walking away from him almost altogether. the executive racks his brain and tries to diffuse the…frustration you’re still holding towards him. chuuya can’t bring himself to imagine you holding any more severely malicious feelings towards him right now — it would make him physically ill.

“what i’m trying to say is that you haven’t experienced the target that it puts on someone’s back. it’s so damn physically and mentally taxing. then there’s the paranoia you have to accept when any other normal or sane person would be told to push it aside. it isn’t easy-“ the ginger’s gaze falters, shifting to the side then back to you but he isn’t really looking you in the eye, that mixed with his words was really starting to piss you off after having calmed down. “the things that need to be done in this position isn’t something you should look forward to, you should be happy that-“

you let out a loud scoff, promptly cutting off the bullshit spewing from chuuya’s mouth. he had no right to mansplain this to you. you know all of this, you know the kinds of demands that’s required of someone when becoming a port mafia executive.

you’ve been preparing for this for 6 damn years. 

your blood is simmering, threatening to boil all over again. your fists are tightly balled and you think you may be drawing blood from your palms again. this time the sting is a little worse, rebreaking the indents in your skin from earlier. your nail lady is going to be so pissed at you, she spent hours to make your nails look as stunning as they do and you’re already staining them with blood. your blood, no less.

you’ll blame it on chuuya. it is his fault after all. the rage he incites in you is impressive to say the least. you think you’ll get let off the hook if you tell her a man was involved. she is always prying into your love life anyways, maybe you’d be able to indulge her for once, even though chuuya is far from being any type of lover at this point. 

you actually want to laugh at the thought considering the events of the last 12 hours.

in fact, the man in question is still prattling on with his mansplaining. you tuned out like maybe a minute or so ago. if he was paying attention he would have noticed the glazed over look you’re giving him. 

you suppose you should try to pay attention but the moment you come back into focus, your mouth is flying open to cease the ginger’s useless words.

“oh my god, chuuya, shut the fuck up. you’re not telling me anything new- you’re actually just pissing me off even more because it’s clear you really believe you need to explain this shit to me. i have half a mind to pull my gun back out at you…”

and you really do consider emptying your holster. maybe taking a couple more shots at the executive could be therapeutic, who knows? again, you know well it won’t do him any harm, he can stop the bullets easily with his gravity manipulation. that’s not enough, he needs to feel how much he’s truly hurt you, so you use your words to hopefully cut him.

“i just- i don’t fucking get it. i really don’t. since i’ve joined, after dragon's head, you’ve continuously supported me in wanting to climb the ranks at this organization. hell, you’ve even encouraged it. was it not you that told me i would make a ‘damn good executive?’” your voice raises and you can feel the anger rising, threatening to erupt. “have you just been lying to me for years? telling me what i want to hear but not actually believing it?! because the faith i instilled in myself was because of the faith you had in me! i trusted your opinion! was it all just one big fucking lie you told-”

“no!” chuuya looks just as worked up as you feel, his telltale signs being the way his eyelashes flutter in frustration and his fingers tremble and twitch at his sides.

you scoff, crossing your arms and looking away to try and hide the way you’re blinking away tears. “then what is it?”

“fyodor dostoevsky is gonna come for us-”

you let out a snort. “the fuck does that even mean?”

your demeanor is manic, your patience has been stretched so far passed its limit that you’re becoming delirious. your smile is vicious, eyes wide and almost wild, and your giggling is threatening. chuuya easily identifies it. he’s only seen you get this upset a handful of times, it’s actually terrifying to witness and he has always been grateful he’s never been on the other side of it. obviously until now, that is. 

“dostoevsky, and god knows who else with him, is going to come for us. he’s cunning. If the man is as smart as he’s rumored to be he’s gonna try to weaken the port mafia by taking out the executives. we have a target on our backs- you would have a target on your back but if you stay in the position you’re in now, you’ll be safe…”

chuuya flinches, the look you’re giving him is not kind and he has a feeling he knows where this is going.

”i’ll be safe? why do i need to be kept safe, chuuya? do you just assume i don’t know how to defend myself? do you think i’m that weak? do you really think that lowly of me?” your voice is dripping with venom, tone saturated with a poison that’s paralyzing chuuya’s mind — he can’t think clearly anymore.

the ginger is becoming increasingly more overwhelmed with each passing moment. “no- no! that’s not what i think at all. i just-”

“you just what? you just think it would be better for me to keep the status i have now? you think i should just stay complacent and be content with the power i have now? my aspirations just mean nothing? what is it? which one is it? or are you going to keep lying to me and spew your bullshit excu-”

chuuya’s own thread of patience snaps, desperate to fix this, he loses all sense of rationality and cuts in quickly before his mind has a chance to catch up with him. “ i love you- i love you and i couldn’t just sit in that meeting and agree to something that i know will put you in harm's way. more so than you already are just being with the port mafia. i can’t let a huge target be drawn on your back. i can’t-”

chuuya’s voice breaks off before he says too much, his mind finally catching up with him as he watches your reaction.

your breath hitches and you physically stumble back. your eyes fly open and lips part in utter shock. 

i love you.

the words running on a constant loop in your head. it’s something you thought you would never hear from him, making peace with that a long time ago. you had resigned to only being close friends and colleagues. you were fine with that. you were. 

so why did those three words jilt you like a rejection instead of an admissionof love? you can’t sort through your thoughts and feeling that are thrashing violently though your chest and mind. it’s all jumbled. 

you try to respond but only manage, “you…what?”

chuuya’s eyes are wide, he himself reeling from his unintentional confession so the best he can muster is a confused, “i- what?”

“…chuuya, you just said…you love me…” 

the man in question is stumbling back into his desk, leaning onto it for support. the weight of his outburst physically pushing him down. wait… no. that’s his ability. in the mess that’s his head somewhere he must’ve activated his ability instinctively and distantly he recognizes the faint red aura surrounding his body. he looks over to you and realizes you notice it too, concern is twisting your perfectly stunning features.

…how embarrassing.

this hasn’t happened since he was a kid. chuuya has always been careful to not lose control, meticulously controlling his emotions so as to not let his gift take over. it’s been almost a decade since this last happened. chuuya didn’t even have this type of reaction when he learned about dazai’s defection. the creaking of his desk is all too apparent in the silent room.

you watch in abject horror as the wood beneath him begins to splinter at his weight. you panic, the previous conversation and frustration forgotten as you watch chuuya struggle in his own mind. 

your own mind races. you need to do something, bring him out of this state immediately. you fear the damage he’ll inflict on not only the desk you know he loves (he spent months looking for the perfect one) but also on his own body. that much weight has to be paralyzing — crushing to him.

the rational side of your mind screams at you and you listen to its cries. “god damnit, chuuya. you need to calm the hell down, you’re gonna cause some serious damage to this building if you keep this up…”

you’re going to do some serious damage to yourself, you want to say but can’t push the words out, your own panic becoming increasingly more tangible as you watch his ability get stronger and stronger.

chuuya’s eyes are distant and now his breathing is ragged. your words, unfortunately, do not fall on deaf ears. the ginger clings to every word you say. your tone is still harsh. you’re still angry with him. 

shit. of course you’re still pissed at him. why wouldn’t you be? he doesn’t deserve your forgiveness. he deserves to be buried by the rubble he can create with his ability. 

he deserves it. 

your own panic rises with each passing moment. if this continues, the executive is going to take the whole building down with him. who knows how many people are occupying this tower, not to mention the boss. mori would not take kindly to this skyscraper being reduced to rubble. 

crack, crack, crack.

the creaking of the desk under chuuya is deafening. you want to scream at him, shout for him to knock it off. frustration getting the better of you, but you know. you know that won’t be of any help in this situation.

“chuuya, please, you need to snap out of this. you need to come back. i need you to take control.” it’s too late now. your words are no longer penetrating the barrier that’s been placed around his mind by anxiety.

talking the superior out of this state is no longer an option for you. shit. this is bad. this is so fucked up. what options do you have left…

finally. an idea finally crosses your mind. it’s reckless, you could get hurt yourself and you know if that happens chuuya would blame himself. riddled with guilt, he would never forgive himself. 

but do you even have an option here? you have to do something. you can’t just stand here paralyzed, frozen in fear.

fuck it.

your feet are moving forward in an instant. this is risky. if it doesn’t work you risk being crushed along with chuuya. touching him right now would cause his ability to envelop you, it could shatter every bone in your body. 

you take a deep breath, hands reaching out and gingerly glide across the ginger’s jawline. his eyes focus almost immediately and you work quickly. you hold his face in your hands and gently bring his forehead down to yours. 

“hey, come back to me…chuuya, please…” you feel the weight of the ginger’s ability slowly envelope you and it almost suffocates you. the pressure makes it hard for your lungs to contract. it’s so dizzying you think you might vomit.

you force yourself to push pass it. the weight isn’t as intense, you search chuuya’s eyes and find them staring back at you. his focus isn’t fully there but his eyes aren’t trembling like they were before. the problem now, you can’t talk. you try desperately but the force of his gravity manipulation makes your esophagus spasm painfully. 

your words are completely useless now. there’s one more thing you could try. it feels wrong to use this while the executive’s in such a state but you’re completely out of options. 

you lean into the ability user, hands bringing his face closer to your own. you feel his shallow breaths turn into deeper ones as they fan over your cheeks. you try to swallow nervously but it makes you wince. you’d let out a frustrated noise if you could get your throat to work. you toss the thought aside. you don’t need your throat to work for what you’re about to do, so you lean in closer, lips finally brushing chuuya’s own and his breath hitches. 

you let a pleased smile quirk your lips up, or at least it feels like you do.

time slows as you finally lean in all the way and let your lips press against chuuya’s. his reaction is so instinctive it startles you, stealing what little breath you have left in your lungs. his hands that had previously been gripping the edge of his desk now find their way to your waist. 

the pressure of his ability lifts gradually and you can finally breathe again. the kiss is gentle and innocent. a stark comparison to chuuya himself, anything but innocent in any sense. 

finally the cracking of the desk ceases and the warmth of the red aura, the one that chuuya emanates when his ability is activated, completely disperses. the only source of warmth that comes from the ginger now is his body heat. his normal warmth is more that enough to make your mind swim. 

after a few more seconds, you part from the executive. you resume your previous position, letting him lean his forehead against your own. you open your eyes only to find one that’s reminiscent of the depths of the ocean and another that reminds you of a warm and rich caramel sauce staring back at you. his eyes scan your face with such concentration you almost hold your breath, not wanting to disturb whatever it is he’s looking for.

his lips part and his voice is raspy when you speaks. “i’m sorry… i shouldn’t have lost control like that…”

“what else are you sorry for?” you hum and quirk an eyebrow up at him expectantly. 

he knows what you’re referring to and even though he swears he plans on apologizing — a sigh escapes passed his lips before he can suppress it. you instantly turn rigid, lips turning downward into a frown and hands dropping from his face. the regret hits chuuya in the gut and his grip on your waist locks you in place. 

the executive is quick to rush out another apology before you can close yourself off. “i’m sorry for not telling you the truth and for voting against you becoming an executive. i’ll make this right.”

your shoulders finally relax for the first time all day. you almost cry at the tension leaving your body, it has been plaguing you all day. based on the guilty look chuuya offers, you must look exhausted. exhausted or not, you don’t plan on letting this go just quite yet. rest can wait.

”you’ll fix things right now.” you pull out your phone to type out a quick message then send it off and put your phone back in your pocket. “mori’s expecting you.”

you watch as a conflicted gleam flickers in chuuya’s bicolored eyes. you take a deep breath, not allowing yourself to get worked up before hearing what he has to say. instead you hum questioningly and patiently wait for him to answer your unspoken question.

chuuya gently squeezes your hips in reassurance that it’s nothing serious. “will you wait for me?”

you blink for a moment, letting your tired and slow moving brain catch up with his words. you’re unable to mask the genuine shock when his request finally processes. will you wait? will you? you look at his couch and think it would be comfy enough to take a nap on. the ginger follows your gaze and instantly catches on. he finally releases your waist and grabs one of your hands, encasing it in his own. 

the executive leads you to the couch wordlessly and has you sit down. he’s quick and before you can even protest, you’re presented with a blanket and pillow. when you don’t reach for them, your mind working on overtime at this point, he places them next to you. 

“use ‘em while i clean up my mess with mori. if you’re asleep by the time i return… i’ll make sure you make it to a proper bed. okay, doll?” the look on his face is nothing short of hopeful and how are you supposed to say no to that?

you let out a sleepy sigh of defeat and simply nod your head.

chuuya can’t help the wide grin plastered on his face. “it shouldn’t take too long. i’ll be back before you know it.”

he doesn’t wait for your response as he makes his way to the door of his office. he unlocks it and as he’s turning the knob you’re calling for him. the ginger looks at you over his shoulder questioningly.

the thought occurred to you that you never verbally reciprocated chuuya’s confession and your mouth is moving for you before you know it. “i love you too…”

you watch as chuuya’s gaze softens and becomes glassy. his smile is bright and stretches into his eyes. his smile is actually so wide that his eyes almost shut completely. he let’s out an airy and carefree laugh and your heart stutters at the noise. suddenly you’re grateful that in your sleepy stupor, you had enough sense to voice your reciprocated feelings because you don’t think you’ve ever seen a more beautiful site.