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just-some-random-blogger · 6 months ago

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Tormented Spirit | 7

Part 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8

"Is it such a sin to stand up for yourself?" you mutter as tears blur your vision. The way he reacted was visceral, instinctive even. "You never have to stand up for yourself ever again," says Daemon, reaching a hand to you, "come."

Daemon Targaryen x Hightower!Reader | 5k+ | cw: fem!reader, reader has brown hair, wife!reader, twin!Gwayne, arranged/forced marriage, canon divergence, alternate universe, slow burn, smut (cunnilingus, piv, choking, degradation, slight sadism), DD:DNE, panic/anxiety attacks, daddy issues/child abuse/family problems, mentions/depictions of mental/physical/psychosomatic illness, ye old misogyny, angst, typos, etc.

A/N: again the high valyrian is internet translated so lol. please consider leaving comments/reblogs because they really help me with the fic. might make another poll for next chapter stay tuned. | cross posted on ao3

@arabellasleopardcoat

Taking you to the hidden stream was simultaneously the best and worst decision Erryk's ever made in his life. The look of you was holy. His intense focus on your form was to ensure your safety, but, by the gods, it felt sinful to behold your dark hair and light fabric ebbing in the water.

He had hoped a swim would lift your spirits, just as flower picking did, but he did not know it would draw such a tempest out of you. It was as though you were reborn. You plunged into the water and shed all your inhibitions. Your voice became brighter, as did your eyes. You were flooded with more than a dozen memories of you and your twin swimming in the river near your home in Oldtown, and you recounted all of them so excitedly to Erryk.

"Oh!' you exclaim, flipping in the water to get to your feet. You point to something behind your ward, making him turn around. In that split second, you hold in your laughter and grab something from the mossy rocks. Innocently, you say, "that reminds me of something."

Erryk turns back to you, brows knit in confusion. When you you make your way towards him, he clenches his jaw and averts his gaze. The shift you were swimming in was stuck flush on your body, leaving little to his imagination. He was glad to have the foresight to bring you a change of clothes and a towel, and, my, was the pattern on the said towel so very interesting.

"What is a frogs favorite game?" you ask so suddenly.

Erryk turns to you, brows furrowing, "pardon?"

"Tell me the frogs' favorite game, ser," you repeat as though it was the most obvious thing in the world.

"Frogs favored game?" he repeats slowly, realizing now that your expression was mockingly innocent. He hums, "I cannot say I-"

"HOPSCOTCH!"

A frog comes leaping into Erryk's face, nearly causing him to topple as he dodges it. He's so flabbergasted by the turn of events, he calls out your name in offence. He is doubly offended by your laughter. His eyes go wide as you hunch forward, leaning on your knees.

"Villain," your ward mutters, scoffing far too many times.

You can barely catch your breath. You fan your face, "frog-ive me."

Erryk's face only contorts further.

"I could not-" you gasp for air, "could not help it."

In truth, if it was any other who did such a childish thing, he'd have shoved them in the water. Alas, you appeared only more beauteous as you made him a fool.

"Forgive me," you repeat in more serious manner, "Gwayne used to scare me this way often. I wished only to know how it felt, and now..." you giggle, "I can't say I blame my brother for constantly pulling tricks on me."

He huffs and shakes his head, "well. I'm glad to have pleased you, my ever-so-kind princess."

You offer him a guilty smile, "apologies."

Erryk shakes his head, "no. Truly. I am glad to see you in such a state."

You fidget with your fingers as a shiver runs down your spine.

He is quick to unravel your towel. He places it on your shoulders, "perhaps we should go back. The sunset is nigh."

You nod, taking your change of clothes from him next.

He turns around offering you your privacy. It takes a while, but you manage to dress yourself. Once you had your shoes on, you dry your hair with your towel and take his arm, "would you please lace up my dress?"

He nods, avoiding your gaze as he feels his face burn. He quickly laces you up then you return to the Keep.

You both had been laughing, up until you made it past the castle gates, promptly being silenced by the loud shout, "PRINCESS!"

Arryk runs over, charging for his brother. Their steel plates collide as Arryk yanks his twin, "where in gods name did you take her?"

Erryk furrows his brows, "we visited a stream-"

"The Keep is in disarray!" Arryk grits his teeth, hissing under his breath, "everyone's looking for her. Everyone."

You watch the twins huddle close and bicker. As it escalates, you try try to come between them, "Arryk. I was the one who asked him to take me outside the keep."

Arryk does not hear you at first, dead set on arguing with his twin. When you repeat your words the second time however, he turns to you, face softening a fraction. He knits his brows turning back to this brother, whispering something that makes Erryk turn to you with wide eyes, "fuck."

"Why?" you look at them in concern, "what it is?"

Arryk opens his mouth, but Erryk grabs his arm and says, "wait."

"There's no other way to say it," Arryk snaps, ripping his arm out his grip.

"Say what?" you knit your brows.

Arryk turns back to you, then lowers his gaze, "the queen... the queen has passed."

Your jaw drops. Your eyes widen. Your hand immediately covers your mouth. The three of you do not speak for a prolonged moment.

You feel your stomach roll, "w-what happened?"

"She could not deliver the babe herself. The maesters... had to intervene."

Intervene? You could not possibly understand what that could mean, and you find that you do not want to. You shake your head, "and her babe? Is- is her babe well at least?"

Arryk clenches his jaw, "she sired a prince named Baelon... he apparently grows weaker by the hour."

You feel bile rise up your throat.

"Your father and your siblings have been looking for you since news broke."

You shake your head, and gather your skirts.

"As has the prince."

Your face twitches at the thought. You do not delay and make your way inside the Keep.

As you tread the halls, you think about what the queen told you just mere hours ago. There is a sharp twinge in your belly as simultaneously remember how Aemma told you to go cheer for Daemon at the tourney and realize you will never hear a word from her ever again. The thought washes over you like water on the beach, sobering but thankfully not overwhelming.

You hadn't realized you had your head bowed until you hear your name called. You still as you look up, the twins halt behind you.

Otto marches over, brows and jaw tight as ever, "where in gods name have you been?"

You straighten your back as he stops before you, "I-"

"Your wards are double," he turns to the kingsguards, "and doubly useless, it seems."

"Father," you step into his line of sight, "do not relieve your rage on them."

Your father turns back to you, expression softening a fraction at your referral. You had not called him father since your argument in the maester's office. He looks at you— takes a good look at you and your sad eyes, your knit brows, your frowning lips. Your hair was darker than it was normally, and as he reaches out for it, he found it was, in fact, damp, "where have you been?"

"I..." you gulp and take a deep breath, "went swimming."

He releases your hair, tilting his head, "with whom? Gwayne has gone."

You pull your head back, "G-Gwayne's gone?"

"The tourney is over. The road is long. He has no reason to stay," Otto says.

Your brows tighten as you shake your head, "he... he didn't... wait for me?"

Otto watches your lips quiver. He watches your nose twitch. When your chest begins to visibly rise and fall, he shakes his head, "what did I tell you?"

You stare blankly at him.

He takes your hands, "what is it I always tell you?"

You clench your jaw and huff through your nostrils, "do not waste your tears on things you cannot change."

Otto rubs your knuckles as he shakes his head again. He gives the Cargyll brothers a look before walking off with you. They make sure to keep their distance before following after.

You turn to your father as he links your arm into his. You are certain, with how he cannot look at you, that he means to tell you something grave. You look front and mimic his demeanor— distant, cold. You are his daughter, face and temperance.

"You enjoyed your swim at least?" he starts, "you are calm?"

You gulp, mentally preparing yourself for what will surely come next. Your voice still falters though, "ye-s."

Otto nods, still not turning to you, "many has occurred since your marriage to Daemon. You admitted you did not consummate your marriage on your wedding night and I was deeply concerned you would fail your duties in producing heirs, especially if your husband was not interested in you."

Your jaw clenches.

"But with the apparent... change of heart your husband has shown, you should know I've had the maesters closely monitor your state."

You knit your brows at that, "you mean my affliction?"

He speaks your name slowly before continuing, "as of yesterday, they have confirmed to me that you are with child."

You whip your head to him and pull away.

Otto does not look at you with the same sense of urgency.

"W-what?"

He sees the fear on your features. He offers a solemn expression and takes your cheeks when your eyes water, "this is good. You should delight, not tremble."

You try to speak but nothing coherent comes out.

"The Queen is dead. Go to your husband and comfort him with this news."

Your mouth goes dry and your father wipes the tears that fall from your eyes. He your name softly. Your sad face looks the exact same it did when his wife died. My baby is having a baby. He frowns and pulls away.

You try to take his hand, but he slips away.

"See her off," the Hand instructs your wards.

Erryk is quick to go to your side, whereas Arryk stares at the back of Otto's head, his lips curling as he did.

"Princess," Erryk says, cautiously reaching your arm.

You turn to him with wide eyes before scratching your tears away, "I-"

"Perhaps you should sit down first."

You pull away from him before he can touch you. The action makes Erryk pull back, an unsavory sensation spreading in his mouth and belly.

"I want to- I—" you take a breath, "I need to find-" you shake your head and begin speeding down the hall.

You were nearly about to break into a sprint, and your wards had to jog up to your side to keep up with you. You don't really know where you're going, but you're getting there, fast.

"Princess, please, slow down," one says.

You can feel your breath and your pulse in your ears.

"Princess."

You find yourself in the halls near one of the gate of the keep. The only reason why you stop is because you hear the voice of your twin. Your breath catches as you lurch towards the window. Gwayne was laughing with one of the guards, already on his horse. Your brows furrow, he couldn't possibly be well enough to be riding on horseback.

You realize quickly this is your last opportunity to go be with your brother, to pull him into an embrace, to worry on him, to tell him your worries, to kiss him goodbye. You know you have to act now and swiftly, but you cannot seem to move.

Your mind is heavy as you think about how your brother is set to leave regardless of your desire to keep close; he said it himself, his place can never be at your side. Though he is the only person who've ever relied on, you know now— you rub your belly, that can no longer be the case. There is only one person you can rely on now... yourself.

It is painful to pull away from the window, but you do, clenching your hands into fists before walking away.

You don't really walk away however, because then, you're frozen in place at the sight of your husband standing a few paces away from you, "Daemon."

He stares at you wordlessly.

You walk towards him, careful as you drag your feet.

He tilts his head and clenches his jaw, "he's leaving any moment now."

You nod, "I know."

"Go to him," he says softly.

"I-"

"Go to him!" he snaps.

You stiffen at his expression. You were adept with anger but he did not look angry. You stop in your tracks, trying to make sense of his restless figure.

Daemon watches you fidget with your fingers.

"If it is your command, I shall obey."

He chuckles dryly, pacing around his spot. He wipes his mouth then charges over, stopping just in front of you. He scoffs when you do not flinch, in disbelief of your constitution. His nostrils flare, "you know my feelings towards your twin."

You slowly shrug, "then you'll be glad to know I came looking for you."

Daemon does not move.

"You know how I feel about my brother..." you mutter, "but..." you lower your gaze, "I'm coming to terms with the fact I can no longer rely on him... it will be better this way."

It takes a moment, but Daemon chuckles. When you look up and his smirk fades. Your beady eyes make it hard to find satisfaction. "So, you will not go to him?" he asks.

You stare.

"You do not want to go to him?"

Your lips part.

He raises his brows.

"I... I do."

Anger rises up his belly, but as if on cue, the sound of horses and carriages moving is heard. You clench your jaw and lower you gaze to prevent yourself from looking back at the window. The prince cannot seem to win, for he should be pleased you did not see your brother off, and yet your sadness leaves sour jealousy in his mouth— he was your husband.

The Cargyll twins look upon you both, appalled by the cruelty of the prince to keep you here as Gwayne leaves for good. Erryk in particular feels restless, unable to stop shifting and fidgeting with his scabbard.

"Shall... shall we go?" you mutter, slowly looking up.

Daemon watches you place a hand on his bicep. He responds only by following you after giving your wards a dismissive look.

The brothers turn to each other, each as unwilling as the other to leave you, but they do anyway.

Daemon is acutely aware of the warmth of your cheek against his arm as you tread down the halls. When, you arrive at your marriage chambers, Daemon opens the door and you notice the bandage wrapped around his hand. He struggles because of this. Once you're inside, you take his arm, eyes trained on his injury, "what happened to your hand?"

Daemon's eyes are fixed on the line between your brows.

"Did you break it?" you turn to him with furrowed eyes.

He pulls away slowly. He wants to know what you'd do next.

"Did you wrap it yourself? It's badly done."

He faintly snorts, "it's on my right hand."

"I'll do it for you," you say, walking towards the vanity.

Daemon follows, watching you procure scissors and vials and other things. You turn to him, motioning to the chair. He sits down, gaze fixed upon you as you take his arm again.

Your eyes are focused on undoing his wrap, "tell me if it hurts,"

His are fixed on your focused expression, "you should sit down."

"I'm fine."

"I want you to sit down," he uses his other hand to grab your wrist.

You stop and turn to him. You turn to the chair across the room but Daemon prevents you from doing so and simply spreads legs, pulling you between his thighs. Quickly, you are sat on his lap and tense look at him. He offers you his injured hand again as his other goes around you, clinging to your hip. He pulls you in, leaning his head against yours to say, "it's a cut, by the way."

You furrow your brows at his admission. You allow yourself a moment to relax before continuing your task. You find it is, in fact, a cut, deep and ugly, "did your lance splinter very badly?"

"No."

You furrow your brows deeper as you turn to him,

"This is glass."

"Glass?" you brow raise, "how did you hurt your hand with glass?"

Daemon licks his lips as he looks at yours. He shrugs, "I broke a bottle."

You pull your head back, "on accident?"

"On purpose," he tilts his head.

You huff and start cleaning his wound, "was the violence in the tourney insufficient?"

He chuckles through his nostrils, "I did not fucking win."

You smear balm on his wound. You do not reply.

It makes him clench his jaw, "and you..."

"..."

"You were not there."

You do not tear your gaze from his injury.

He grumbles, "did you even hear me?"

You lift your gaze then raise brow at him, "you did not want me there. Do you not recall how you cursed at me?"

Your gall makes anger rise up his throat.

You continue wrapping up his hand.

"Well, you were being a bitch," he snaps.

"Why?"

His brows furrow.

"Why was I being a bitch?"

"..."

You spare him a quick glace.

He pulls his head back, "... what?"

"Did I not do my duty?" you turn to him, face blank, "I followed you, congratulated you, inquired of your injuries. I submitted to your desires. Where did I err?" You ask in earnest, "what do you want from me?"

His face contorts. Now that he was faced with such an opportunity, he finds himself unable to speak. What did he want from you?

You wait for him to reply. You prepare yourself for preposterous requirements but you are met only his silence. In that moment, you remember he was just a man. Many a man enjoyed making women suffer. You gulp, thinking about your father.

Perhaps your father was lying. Perhaps he wants you to believe you are with child to get even. After all, Daemon never... finished in you. How then could you be with child?

You secure the binding on his hand, "it is finished."

Daemon does not bother looking at his hand.

"How do you feel?"

He feels a strong urge to shake you... to pull you close.

"My deepest sympathies for the death of your cousin."

He freezes. Right. The queen was dead. He lowers his gaze.

You frown and reach for his cheek. You second guess however and bring your palm to his shoulder instead, "I am here for you, my prince."

His eyes meet yours.

"I am here to care and comfort you."

He leans back, taken by the thought.

You drink in his demeanor, the softness in his eyes, the tension that falls of his shoulders. You release a breath, "if that is what you desire, speak plainly, and do not repel me. Do not ask me to leave if, in fact, you want me to stay."

His throat tightens. He feels like he is ensnared in a bear trap. He rips at his collar, "I... I have other injuries." He pushes you off and paces around as he undoes his top. It is a struggle for him, but he cannot stop or stay still, "cuts and bruises."

You watch as he fidgets and slowly walk over.

"I don't-"

"Daemon."

He stills.

You come in front of him and undo his top yourself. You drop it mindlessly, and once he is bare, he feels conscious under your scrutiny for some reason. You brush your fingers on his ribs, making goosebumps form on his skin. He can't say that that has ever happened to him before. You notice and rub his arms, eyes locked on his torso.

He feels himself getting hard.

"Did you tend to these yourself as well?" you brush over a cut on his hip.

Oh. You were still examining him. He only hums in response.

You frown, "did no maester come to your tent?"

"I..." he starts.

You circle around him, inspecting for other injuries.

"...wanted you to come to my tent."

You come to his side. He finds the frown on your face. You take a moment before saying, "you tended to your wounds well at least."

"I want you."

You nod, "I will tend to you—"

Daemon takes your nape, lowering his head to kiss your lips. It takes a moment for you to relax, and his belly burns at the sound you make when you do. Your hands come to his sides and your nails graze faintly into his flesh.

He pushes you back until your laid on the bed beneath him. His kisses trail down your skin as he works to get you naked. He kisses your shoulder, then your sternum. He makes sure to lick your breast and leave a mark on your rib before peppering kisses down your belly.

Your breath grows heavy when he lingers by your womb, sucking kisses on your skin. Your throat tightens think of your father's words again. It makes you tense, and Daemon feels it. Of course, he doesn't know about your conversation with Otto, and thinks your tension comes from your self-consciousness.

You lift your head, pulling a pillow beneath it, and look down at your husband. You reach for him, tangling your fingers in his silver hair, "Daemon."

He hums, nipping your flesh in response.

You try to sit up, "D-Daemon, I-"

He shushes you, pushing down on your hip bone. He looks up at you, muttering something in High Valyrian.

"Please, Daemon, wait-"

"Be still," he says, violet eyes hooded, "do I not take care of you?"

Your breath hitches as he sinks down.

"Do you not enjoy my mouth?"

"I- that's not-"

"Do you or do you not?"

"I... I do—"

You are not able to speak after he buries his face between your thighs. You are reduced to breathy cries and a twisting spine. Daemon, though he continues to hold you down, relishes every second of it and feasts more ardently. He sighs, securing your thighs on his shoulders, nudging his face deeper into you, his nose brushing against your pearl.

He relishes how quickly your wetness builds, and soon, he feels your arousal dribbling down his chin. He moans, nails biting crescent moons into your skin. Your belly rises and falls in sync with the crescendo of your mewls. At this point, both your hands are tangled into his hair, and your pulling and scratching only further inspires his tongue.

You call out his name, screwing your eyes shut as you throw your head back and arch your body. Quickly, your belly tightens and you sequentially dig your heels into his shoulder blades. He squeezes your thighs enough to make them bruise, and yet the pain is what pushes you into orgasm, garnering a lewd and loud sound from your mouth.

Daemon hums, lifting his face just enough to see yours as he brings you to peak. He moans at your expression, grinding his hips into the cushion, desperate for friction.

Your body trembles, unable to settle as his burning mouth persists on your molten mound. You begin to squeak and he catches the moment you open your eyes to look at him all teary. It drives him mad. With a deep inhale, he pulls away, wiping his chin before he undoes his breeches.

You relax and catch your breath, hands dropping to your sides.

Daemon watches you, your trembling legs glistening with the pleasure he's drawn out. He can feel himself throbbing in his pants. You watch as he hastily frees himself. Though your head was hazy and your body was tried, your belly burned at sight of the sticky liquid dripping down your husband's neck.

"Fuck, Daemon," you reach for his belly. You trace his defined muscles with your finger tips. He snatches your hands when he finally pushes his pants down.

You squeak when he pushes you to your side, one hand on your shoulder, another hiking your leg up by the knee. You whine as he folds you into the sheets just before sliding his hardened cock in your wet cunt.

He hisses, leaning down to your neck. His words are hot against your skin, but you understand nothing.

Whatever tenderness he had before was gone, now he was just fucking you like a rabid animal. Daemon could not help himself, he loved how supple and pliable you were, and twists you into a form that keeps you prone. When the bed begins to creak because of his thrusts, he holds you down where your neck and collarbone meet. He puts enough pressure to restrict your breathing, but not enough to choke out your pretty noises.

At some point, he decides your leg is getting in the way and pushes you flat on your chest. He then gathers you by the hip, hiking you up enough to fuck you nicely from behind.

His thrusts are more intense now. You scream into the cushion as you find your elbows. Before you can prop yourself up though, he's pinning you down by the shoulder, saying something in High Valyrian again.

"D-Daemon," you whine, left cheek smushed against your pillow. You could feel your next climax building quickly.

He responds by rubbing your clit, drawing tears and another scream out of you because of your sensitivity.

You feel yourself helplessly clenching and unclenching around him, absolutely boneless under his vigorous intrusion. You could feel your knees slipping but Daemon's grip on you would not see you move from your position. Your toes curl. Saliva drips out your open mouth.

"Māzigon va, riña," he snorts, "sepār mirrī angotan tolī." Come on, girl. Just a little bit more."

You do not understand, so you only whine out, "Daemon."

Daemon growls and rubs one side of your ass, "you're doing so good for me."

He spanks you, but that's not what makes your eyes open.

"Milk my cock with your tight cunny, come slut."

You begin to grit your teeth.

"I want to see my seed dripping down your thighs," he groans, mind unable to focus on anything but the hot, wet slapping of your skin.

It's unsurprising that you come first, as Daemon always assures you do to underscore his control and dominance over you. He yelps out a sharp fuck, nearly coming in your cunt because of how your body seizes up around him. Your orgasm overwhelming, yet your eyes water for more than this reason. His words make you aware your husband sees you nothing more as a vessel for pleasure, and your pleasure is regretfully cut short because of how sharply he pulls out, his load spraying on your already dripping labia and pubic hair.

He strokes himself a few times, feeling his cock twitch in his hand as he watches your mixed come trickle down your legs. He sighs, "fuck," then scoops the cream in two fingers, plunging it in and out your still spasming cunt.

You squeal when he finger fucks you, body unable to remain upright. You are grateful he loses interest rather quickly and crumble into the bed as he stands.

You watch him walk over to the drawer, where he then pours himself some wine. You gulp, remembering your dream from last night. It sobers you out your high. You clench your jaw and roll over to clean yourself up. You head to your vanity and wipe yourself down, grabbing your robe was you do.

Daemon, whose thirst was now quenched, turns back to you with a towel. He is confused to see you standing. He watches you flip your hair behind you, pulling it out of your robe, which you then secure around yourself. He knits his brows as he walks over, "what are you doing?"

You turn to him, sitting on the vanity chair, "getting ready for bed."

Daemon stares, and you take his prolonged silence as an indication to proceed with your nightly routine.

The prince squeezes the damp towel in his hand as he watches you brush your hair. You catch his stillness from the mirror and turn back to him, "oh."

You drop your brush and take the towel from him, "I'll help you clean up."

Normally, he enjoyed this, but right now, he can't. He is offended when you begin to pick up his clothes, so much that he scoffs, "the fuck are you doing?"

You halt midway picking up his trousers. You stand and turn to the closet, "ah. Did you want new clothes?"

He pulls his head back, no longer offended, but hurt, "you want me to leave?"

You are caught off guard by his question. You stare at him for a moment, unsure if he was serious. You could not identify his expression, so you did not know if you should tell him the truth. You would not survive being berated after confessing you wanted to sleep with him. You dodge the answer altogether, "weren't you leaving anyway?"

Daemon's cheeks tense. He huffs, stepping forward, yanking his clothes out of your hands, "no."

You are bewildered by his actions, for to you, his actions are sudden. You are petrified in fear, which is why you instinctively begin to apologize, "f-forgive me, I-I-"

His nostrils flare and his jaw sets.

"I-" you motion with a hand, "- you always leave."

His clenches his jaw, "do you want me to leave?"

"I—" your throat tightens and soon you can no longer look at him. You want to beg him to stay, but you recall how you did that with your father, and your mother, and your brother— begging does not make people stay. You whisper, "I... I'm terrified."

When you lift your gaze, Daemon shirks and decides to dress. He gulps as he pulls his trousers up, turning back to you. He clenches his fist before reaching out for you.

Your heart races as he takes your hand.

"You've served me well. If you are terrified... I'll leave you."

You whimper when he pulls away, holding him tighter than he did before your hands part. Your lips quiver. He knits his brows. You shake your head, "I- I... I do not want you to go."

He is taken off guard by how you suddenly embrace him.

"Please," you beg, though you knew it would not serve you well, "stay."

He turned to stone. He cannot seem to move at all but your arms are determined to stay around him. You begin to weep against his skin and he can feel your breath grow ragged. Only then does he manage to return your affection.

He brushes your dark hair away from your face and cradles you against him.

"Daemon."

He leans into you, enough to be able to brush his cheek against yours, "kesan umbagon." I will stay.

You sniffle then sigh. After a while, you ask, "what does that mean?"

"I will stay."

You sigh again, pulling away to look at him. You offer him a sad smile, "thank you."

He frowns, wiping your tears.

When you go back to bed, you offer him space in case you've made him uncomfortable. He stares at you, awaiting your embrace. You are mere inches apart but it feels like yards and yards. Why do you not wish to hold him like you did last night?

"Good night, husband," you say before turning over.

He chuckles dryly, staring at your dark hair. He turns to the ceiling, "good night."

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miriadalia · 4 months ago

Text

Things you can comment on the fanfics you love when you have no idea what to say

From what takes less time to what takes more

~show those writers your love, please!! They do it for free T-T and they deserve better

1. Emojis

You know the vibe of the fic you're reading, chose the ones that suit it better.

❤❤❤

💔💔💔

🙈🔥🔥

You may think this is kind of stupid, but trust me, it is NOT for the writer. It shows you've read until the end of the chapter and that you liked it so much that you decided to say it publicly. Your presence means A LOT.

Also, leaving kudos or votes takes literally just 1 second, what are you doing NOT doing that?? 🤨🤨🤨

2. Simple phrases

I loved it so much!!

Can't wait for the next chapter!!

This was just so good 😍

Amazing as always, keep it up!! 🙌🏼

Writing is a lonely work if you think about it. When I'm in a writer's block, just one sentence can hype me up for the rest of the day and give me the spirit I need 💪��

3. The emotions you felt

Yes, you DO matter. That fanfic author cares more about your opinion than your stupid ex so you better write to them instead 🧐

The plotwist was so unexpected, I'm shocked 😱

You can't end with that cliffhanger, how am I supposed to wait another week??

Excuse me, I will now lock into my room and cry all night, thank you 💔

I've read some people saying they won't comment how they felt because they feel ashamed or shy. Take it as if you were about to post a tweet or comment on a friend IG's story 👍🏻

4. One piece of dialogue/prose that really amazed you

Oof 🔥 this happened to me a few weeks ago and that comment still lives in my mind rent free. There's no better way to compliment a writer's work than to highlight something they wrote that left a true impression on you.

And it literally takes no time:

[Insert piece of dialogue], oh she didn't just say that, imma throw hands 🤬🤬

[Insert piece of a description], I could really see it with my own eyes, loved how you described it!

5. Hopes and wishes for future chapters

C'mon, you're going to comment this anyway with some of your fandom mutuals or friends, why don't let the writer know that too?? COPY AND PASTE IT ✍✍

I just need Chatacter A and Chatacter B to kiss, how long is it gonna take?? 😩

Watching that scene in [Canon series name] would have been awesome!! Maybe in future seasons 👀👀

I hope [Ship Name] don't break up in the next chapter, they are so cute 😭

6. Character discussion

Okay, we're entering deeper waters here.

But the truth is: if you love that fanfic that much is because the characters really resonated with you. So express your first thoughts without any fear:

[Chatacter Name] is so important to me, like you have no idea. All the things they went through... But they still manage to be a better person ❤

[Chatacter Name] was so forgotten in [Movie/Series Name], I'm glad they're getting the development they deserved here!

7. Scene discussion

Again, you might think the comment section is no place to start "fangirling" over the stuff you liked. But IT IS!! And the writer wants to know your thoughts on their work, especially if your opinion is all positive 💞

This will take more time, sure. But if you're going to write it anyways for other people, COPY AND PASTE AGAIN, hon!

8. How this story is impacting your fan life (or even personal life)

You don't need to overshare, but simple comments like:

Your fic has really changed the way I think about [Character Name]'s decisions, I feel like I can understand them better now.

This story has motivated me to rewatch all the episodes again 😢 the nostalgia!!!

What you did with [Character's situation] was incredible! I've been there myself and I could have not explain it better ��

... They will be the ones the writer will remember the most, I can assure you that.

9. A simple THANK YOU

At the end of the day, fanfic and fanart creators only have your feedback to rely on when the block or discouragement hits... This is about showing appreciation to someone you may not know at all, but that has brighten your day with their creations and efforts ❤

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littlejuicebox · 1 year ago

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LittleJuicebox Masterlist

Click here for my AO3 account. (Converting is a WiP).

If you’d like to be added to a tag list, please DM me and I can send you the google doc link. I have decided to keep tag lists for each individual series so you only get tagged in the ones you want.

My personal favorites are denoted by a +.

GN reader is denoted by a * otherwise assume Fem reader/OC.

Titles colored red are smut or other mature themes, 18+ only.

AstarionxWren Series:

This is a canon-adjacent passion project which focuses on Astarion and Wren, a ranger half-elf with her own backstory. She is based off my first Tav. Do you like angsty slow burns where two broken people find one another and learn to love again? Then this one is for you.

Chapter 1 / Chasing birds to get high (PG) + Chapter 2 / Between comfort and chaos (PG) Chapter 3 / Sunshine and midnight rain (PG13) + Chapter 4 / Protect the flames (M/Gore) Chapter 5 / Blue and silver bonded (PG13) Chapter 6 / Remember how it feels to have a heartbeat (PG13) Chapter 7 / Give peace a chance (M/Smut) + Chapter 8 / Dancing in a burning room (M/Gore) Chapter 9 / Lavender haze (PG-PG13?) Chapter 10 / I want to hold your hand (PG13)

Midnight Chimes Series:

Your parents own a tavern in Baldur’s Gate, and Astarion was somewhat of a regular when you worked at the bar in your younger years. You don’t exactly trust him. Now you’re an apothecary owner based in Waterdeep, and when the two of you crash on the beach, you aren’t exactly thrilled to see him there, too. But things aren’t always what they seem.

1 / The Prologue +

2 / Three years

3 / Luck +

4/ Ringleader

Midwinter Carol Series:

Eirianwen and Astarion were in love before the Ascension ritual changed his behavior toward her. She refused to become a spawn, and they went their separate ways. The story starts when they run into one another fifteen years later; Eirianwen returned to the city to deliver some news to the pale elf. Meanwhile, the Ascendant had a night time visitor that convinced him to change his ways, and he believes his ex-lover might be the key. Will he be able to change after fifteen years of living life as a debauched degenerate?

1 / The Prologue +

2 / The Barrier

3 / The Carriage

4 / The Auction +

5/ The Repeat

6/ The Affliction

7/ The Interrogation

8/ The Scheme

9/ The Snake

AstarionxReader One Shots and Mini-Stories:

Mini-Stories are grouped together in order and denoted by a “Part X” in sequential order after the title. These are in general "timeline" order and follow my (admittedly self-indulgent) headcanon for Spawn Astarion x Tav but can definitely be read as OneShots. All stories are AstarionxReader, some allusions to reader having spellcaster ability but otherwise no real description apart from being female in about 3/4 of the fics.

Act 1-2:

The little things.

Before someone steals your queen

Act 3:

Drunken nights*+

The nail salon

You'll stay still, won't you, little love? +

Post-BG3:

Mermaid whiskey+

Baking Cookies*

Astarion talks in his sleep Part 1*+

My Sun, My Moon Part 2+

Glowing in the Underdark+

Reflections on one year of marriage

Highharvestide Part 1

Highharvestide Part 2

Handmade+

Dadstarion:

The wish spell worked.+

Daddy?

Little bump.

Labor and joy

Skin to skin.

Milk.+

Little lockpick.

Beach babies.+

A growing brood.

Puppy love.

Stuck.

Pre-BG3 / Random / Ascended Astarion OneShots

Midnight chimes / The Original One Shot

Pre-BG3. You’ve known Astarion for years… or at least, you’ve known of him. You think he’s a rake, but one night he changes your mind. The series "Midnight Chimes" started based off this "prologue."

A Midwinter Carol / The Original One Shot

“A Christmas Carol” but Ascended Astarion is Scrooge. He sees you after your break up 15 years ago, and then has an unexpected nighttime visitor showing him past, present, and future. Will he be convinced to change his ways? The series "Midwinter Carol" started based off this "prologue."

Naughty or Nice?

You’re Ascended Astarion’s little toy in the middle of a party. TLDR; he’s tease and a BDSM dom.

Dancing on my own

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tranceinnumerabletabs · 5 months ago

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When Johnny Comes Back pt 6

Howdy. I didn't want there to be long wait. It's a shorter read.

BUT the chapter after this should have a big event! May take a while. But it'll be longer than usual. Is that fine with y'all?

btw the 'fanfiction' featured here is just the 'Wife at First Sight' series from @readwritealldayallnight ,and the names are....obstructed to avoid universe confusion.

and of course @supermegabitchboyexceptimagirl tagged

part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5.

It was a quiet night. You lay in the living, Simon on your chest purring, reading fanfiction on tumblr about a large masked military man with an accent from a video game known for having the worst and most vile lobby with people that always know which slur to call you somehow. You’ve been reading more recently due to a lapse in internet quality. But since you only need to load it once and you can spend hours reading it’s gotten very convenient.

The fanfictions sure know how to make canon war criminals seem like perfect knights in shining tactical armor.

You wish there were people like him in your world but alas, they exist within the works of passion. It was late but you were still reading a work from someone who seemed to readwritealldayandnight, wow the Y/N here was dense! Couldn’t be you. (A wild thought considering your previous behavior but go off)

“The only reason his gaze had followed your retreating form, was that unlike everyone else, you had met in his eyes when you spoke, even smiled warmly up at him

That one smile and he was done for”

You read while Simon seemed to read with you, strangely interested in human technology.

“ “Who was tha’?” The sergeant had questioned, seeing G%•$!’s attention still fixated on you.

“Think that was my wife.”

“Yer what?!” ”

You giggle, trying to keep your attention on the fic and not the missing spot next to you, but the universe just had to remind you somehow

“”Ach, thanks Lt. Just what I needed.” $•%# said, seeing <£^~% approaching form enter the common room, holding a steaming cup of tea in each hand”

that sounded just like….like….like

Your mood drops back down, that sounded just like Johnny….. you sigh…looking down…shutting the phone and hugging Simon. Trying to stop the thought of your precious roommate dying. You take deep breaths and try to think of nicer things. Like how you’ll show him the fanfic and how much it sounds like him when Johnny comes back

Part7

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spacelatinoluvr · 6 months ago

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blood runs thicker than water (5/?) - aemond targaryen

series masterlist, chapter 1, chapter 2, chapter 3, chapter 4, chapter 6

summary: To dance with dragons is to play with wolves. After surviving her own assassination attempt, Alarra Stark endured a large scar across her face, slicing her face in half. For years after Alarra was now known as "Alarra The Fierce" due to her ferocity at the young age, defending herself valiantly at merely thirteen-years-old. After then, she spent years training with her older brother, Cregan Stark, so that one day she could avoid the pain and suffering of anyone in her family; including herself. But, after those years spent training with men much larger than her, she is sent away and betrothed to Joffrey Velaryon for alliance towards the rightful heir to the Iron Throne: Rhaenyra Targaryen. Accompanying the family to Kingslanding, Alarra realized maybe marrying the young Velaryon boy wasn't so awful. But that was until she met a peculiar "one-eyed" prince. pairing: Aemond Targaryen x Stark!OC word count: 4.5k tags: slow burn, forbidden love, canon Aemond, enemies to lovers, long fic, original characters, war, arranged marriage warnings: violence rating: 18+, !MDNI!

THE BLADE OF A WOLF

Alarra hadn't touched her sword in weeks. When she arrived at Dragonstone, she swore off carrying it and it laid untouched in a cabinet for one moon. Her sword remained in that cabinet even in King's Landing. It had been sitting for days since she’d arrived. She didn't figure she'd need it. Even as much as she wished to have it by her side, the dagger at her thigh would suffice for the time being.

Alarra entered the training grounds, peeking behind the walls of the castle to watch the one-eyed prince and his dog train. She did this multiple times each day. Wishing it were her sweeping the men off of their feet onto their arses.

But that would never happen.

“Looks like we have a new onlooker, my prince.” Ser Criston Cole rang, loud enough so that Alarra could hear from whichever wall she was hiding. Aemond turned and saw a head of red hair behind a pillar.

“I wouldn't mind a new opponent,” Aemond started stalking towards Alarra.

“You, Ser, are predictable.” He muttered, and he felt the offended gaze of the knight on the back of his head.

“Alarra the Fierce.” Alarra jumped, turning to face the prince. She bowed out of respect, feeling slightly embarrassed, her cheeks becoming red and warm.

“Prince Aemond,” Aemond inspected her with his eye, and Alarra felt like a bird in a bear’s trap.

“I was just watching. In Winterfell, I used to train with my brother with a proper sword I-” Alarra stopped herself, realizing she was talking too much for the prince’s interest. “I apologize. I overstep-”

“Do you own a sword?”

“Yes.”

“Is it with you?”

“In my room-”

“Fetch it.” Was she a dog? Some hound to fetch something for the prince? Alarra’s eyebrow rose, but she decided to not argue with the prince. She had already done that enough with his brother. Alarra arrived in her room to grab her sword, the sword of pure Valyrian steel. Alarra’s hand wrapped around the hilt tightly, and a small smile appeared on her face. It was nice to hold it again, to feel the coolness of its composure and its weight beneath her fingers. Alarra felt slightly embarrassed walking through the halls with a sword at her hip. Why was she so embarrassed? Alarra the Fierce does not get embarrassed. Alarra does not get flustered over a boy. Alarra lifted her head as she entered the training grounds, and both Aemond and Ser Criston Cole turned to her.

She was Alarra the Fierce.

“I have fetched my sword,” Alarra said as she joined Aemond and the knight where they were standing, men beginning to circle them as they awaited. “Am I to be your squire? Fetch you wine and water. Fetch you your sword. Perhaps feed grapes into your mouth?”

“No. Show me your skills.” Aemond said and Ser Criston Cole whipped his head so fast at the prince Alarra thought his head might have fallen off of his body.

“What?” The knight said, his eyes thinning onto Alarra. “She is a woman-” The men around them started to laugh.

“I am Alarra the Fierce. Would you like me to show you?” They stopped laughing. Ser Criston Cole was stunned for a moment, before a condescending grin grew upon his face.

“Gladly.” He said his hand pointing towards the training area, motioning for Alarra to go first. Alarra stared at him as she passed, barely grazing her shoulder over his wishing she bumped into him. He grabbed a shield and Alarra looked back at him, smirking.

“You need a piece of wood to protect you?” Ser Criston looked down at the shield before throwing it on the ground and waltzed over to her a smug look on his face to find Alarra who was already in stance, her sword unsheathed in her hand. Oh, how she wished to wipe that smirk off of his face.

“Pure Valyrian steel…” He muttered looking at her sword then unsheathing his own sword, it glimmering in the sunlight. Aemond was watching them from afar, silently rooting for the Stark girl to put Ser Criston Cole’s dignity in the dirt. Someone had to. “Fighting in a dress? Isn't that…difficult?” The knight scanned Alarra’s frame, wearing a dark blue dress, quivering an eyebrow.

“Maybe for a man like yourself.” She responded cooly, her sword now at eyes width. Alarra then lunged widely, her sword pointed at the man and Ser Criston Cole quickly lifted his sword, catching hers. He huffed letting out a small laugh.

“Not fair.”

“Nothing is fair, Ser.” Alarra swiped again this time quicker but the knight still caught her. She hadn't practiced in three moons. Anytime Alarra advanced, the knight kept stopping her, his sword always colliding with hers no matter how much she succeeded. He was skilled, and it seemed he was too cocky for his own good, like most men. His ego was something that would not be tarnished by a woman. Especially a young girl from the North.

Ser Criston Cole was slowly losing his confidence, and Alarra was gaining the upper-hand. His overbearing smile soon diminished, and he was scared of the girl he saw in front of him. She was no longer a princess but a fighter. She was fierce. And in that moment Ser Criston realized that the rumors were in fact not a lie but the truth. Alarra was fierce. And any man that faced her would soon regret it.

But then Alarra found an opening. Ser Criston Cole’s eyes widened, almost as if he knew what she was about to do before she did and Alarra sweeped the knight off of his feet onto his back, her sword pointed directly at his neck, his sword sitting above his head. There was a beat of silence, only the heavy breathing coming from Alarra being heard. Then the men around them started to clap, cheering for her.

For her.

Alarra smiled to herself, sheathing her sword as Ser Criston Cole sat on the ground, his eyebrows furrowed as he stared at Alarra.

“How did you do that? You managed to not only disarm me but land me on my-”

“Arse?” Alarra questioned, moving to stand in front of him. Ser Criston gave her a look of pure disbelief, and her confidence lingered in the air as the crowd's applause diminished. The knight was in awe for a moment before he became angry that she had embarrassed him.

“The men of the North are skilled but-”

“You forget yourself, Ser. The Wolf of the North has taught me everything I know. I am a man from the North.” A man with tits, she wanted to say that to him also, but she was still a guest. But her Northern honor would not hide from the South. Her pride would not cower. From the corner of her eye, Alarra saw Aemond push through the crowd, and men made way for the Targaryen prince. She still had a smile on her face and Aemond was now in front of her, a look of dignation on his face.

“I bet you won't do the same to me.” Aemond said, his sword unsheathed from his side and Alarra relished in his statement. Oh, how wrong the prince was.

“Would you prefer to meet the same fate as Ser Criston Cole or something much less humiliating for a royal?” Alarra took her own sword out and the crowd grew quiet once again. Ser Criston Cole was now standing, looking tense, his eyes narrowed on Alarra. She had upset the knight.

Aemond was the one who moved first, a grunt leaving his lips as he slashed at Alarra but she was light on her feet, able to miss the graze of his sword. Aemond huffed in annoyance, slashing again but her sword caught him.

Their swords clanged, echoing through the courtyard’s silence. Alarra felt the strength of Aemond’s strike reverberate down her arm, but she held her ground, smirking at him over the steel of their locked blades. Alarra tilted her head to the side, her hair falling over her face, and Aemond’s eye narrowed, his grip tightening on his hilt. He pressed forward, pushing Alarra back towards the crowd.

Alarra twisted her wrist breaking their lock that forced Aemond to stumble back a few steps. Aemond had slowly become more and more agitated the more Alarra had taunted him. Aemond lunged again, seeming more ruthless this time as his blade whistled over Alarra’s head. Every move he made, she already saw. She anticipated everything he did. And this infuriated the prince.

And then she fell, her sword on the ground and Aemond’s sword at her neck. Alarra’s shock was not hidden on her face, as she stared at the steel, her eyes wide. But, Alarra knew better than to let her guard down. She knew better than to yield just yet.

Alarra’s hand went under her dress and Aemond’s eyebrows furrowed as she pulled out her dagger, pushing his blade away from her face with it and the sword fell to the ground. Alarra stood, her blade at Aemond’s neck. Aemond and Alarra stared at each other, their heavy breathing synchronized. She had never been so close to the prince, so close to his face, her blade at his neck. One swipe and he would be choking on his own blood.

“Yield.” She said, lightly pressing her dagger against his throat. He stared at her, neither scared nor smug. Aemond was shocked. Ser Criston Cole was now in front of her, pushing her harshly away from the prince.

“He yields.” The knight said, glaring at her. Alarra lifted her dress to put her dagger back at her thigh, her sword soon following now sheathed at her hip. She watched as Ser Criston Cole was saying something to the prince but he wasn't paying attention because he was only looking at the wolf from the North that had just bested him.

Alarra turned, stomping away a few feet from the crowd and Ser Criston Cole when Aemond had trailed behind her, shoving past the knight and the crowd.

“You are insufferable.” He was right behind her now and she turned fast, her hair almost hitting his face.

“Am I?” Alarra took a step forward, her face nearing Aemond’s steel gaze.

“You are a dirty dog.” Aemond spat, his eye scanning her face.

“Mhm…” Alarra smiled, her eyes never looking away from Aemond’s. “And yet, this dirty dog still handed you and your shit-wiper your arses.” She whispered, bumping into his shoulder as she walked past him. But, Aemond was quick and grabbed her wrist forcing her around to look at him again. His eye trailed over her face, no doubt staring at her scar. His eye always gravitated towards it, like it was haunting him. His hand stayed on her wrist, gripping it. Then suddenly, Aemond ripped his hand away, striding away from her back towards Ser Criston Cole who was watching their exchange closely.

“You bested two of the best swordsmen in King’s Landing. That is something to be proud of.”

Alarra was laying on the ground in the grass somewhere outside the Red Keep and Rhaena was sitting beside her, trying to comfort her. They were on a hill, watching the water in front of them.

“I am not proud of it. Only embarrassed.”

“Embarrassed of what exactly?”

“That I let my ego get the best of me.” Rhaena laughed, looking back towards the water in front of them.

“And I’m embarrassed of many things but I do not dwell on it.” Rhaena said, beginning to stand, wiping her hands on her dress. Rhaena was basking in sunlight as she opened her hand out to Alarra. Alarra grunted, taking her outreaching palm to pull her up onto her feet. Alarra paused, looking at the water again.

“I never learned how to swim.” Alarra admitted, the wind blowing her hair and giving her a chill down her spine.

“I can teach you if you’d like.”

“I fear I’d only drown the both of us.”

Alarra and Rhaena had just entered the Red Keep again, finding the three Velaryon boys playing in a grass courtyard. They were laughing maniacally, the musings of their voices heard from the depths of the castle. The older prince was chasing the younger two, and he caught up to them pushing them to the ground with him. Alarra laughed as she watched them interact, starting to miss her own brother.

“My brother and I used to play like that. When we were children.” Alarra said, and she watched as they giggled rolling around in the dirt.

Just then, the three boys stood up quickly, seeming to react to something or someone. Alarra turned her head to find Ser Criston Cole approaching them furiously, a determined look on his face. Alarra was quick to make the decision to walk over to them, interrupting what the knight was telling them.

“-princes do not play.” The knight had just finished speaking when the disgusted look on his face grew even more when falling upon Alarra.

“Is something the matter?” She questioned, and he turned towards her his hand falling upon the hilt of his sword.

“Nothing is wrong. I am only telling these immature princes what royalty actually does-“

“What else are they to do? They are children-“

“Princes do not roll around in the dirt.” He said, taking a step towards her now. Alarra stood her ground, not to be intimidated by the knight.

“You do not reprimand them, Ser.” She said, her hands forming into fists at her side. Jacaerys intervened, standing between them.

“We will no longer play in the grass, Ser.” Jacaerys said, his eyes telling the knight to walk away. And he did. Alarra watched as Ser Criston Cole stalked away from them, seething as he did. Alarra watched as his shining armor shimmered through the halls. As if the knight had the honor to be wearing it. Alarra didn’t feel that he deserved it. He deserved his skin and bones beneath the dirt.

“If you shall play in the grass, you shall play in the grass.” Alarra muttered, still watching the retreating body of Ser Criston.

Nighttime came, and Alarra could not find peace in her bed. She twisted and turned unable to find rest beneath her linen sheets and feather pillows. The bed wasn’t the issue but her mind. She could not stop thinking about what she had done. She felt stupid. Stupid for allowing the knight and his prince to lead her into a trap.

When Alarra could not sleep, she found herself reading in the library. She did not care what she read, as long as it was something to keep her brain from running circles. She even did this in Winterfell. Her brother would find her fast asleep on a table, a book beneath her face. He would scold her for sleeping in that position telling her that when she was old and gray, her back would be her enemy.

When she first went to the library, a certain one-eyed prince had found her there but she had disappeared out the door before he could see her. After that, she never went to the library again at night. But tonight, she was desperate to find sleep.

Alarra opened the large doors of the library, and they creaked slowly as she did. She hoped that it wasn’t too loud, but the library was hidden from most of the chambers that lay within the Red Keep. It wasn’t the main library, but one of multiple. This library was small, about the size of a council room but it held many books Alarra found interesting. She had managed to steal a book about the beginnings of Valyrian steel, and wanted to return it after finishing.

Alarra quietly approached the shelf where she originally found the book, a lit candle in her hand as she did. The library was eerily quiet and her candle light was the only thing that she could visibly see. There were tall, narrow windows on the opposite side of the library, and the moon light filtered through the room, giving Alarra some other form of lighting. Alarra was browsing the books, her finger lightly tracing the spines when the door creaked open again. Alarra gasped quietly, ducking below the shelf. Another candle light shone through the room and Alarra quickly blew her own out.

“I can see you.” A voice said, and Alarra closed her eyes lightly in disappointment.

“I am sorry,” Alarra stood, playing with the ends of her night gown as she stared at the ground. She was encased in a dark blue robe her brother had gifted her. “I was only looking. I apologize if I am not allowed-“ Alarra looked up from the ground to see Aemond, his eyepatch gone and face illuminated solely with a single candle, her words getting caught in her throat. She hadn’t meant to stare or get flushed but she just did. Now she understood.

“What are you doing here?” He asked, lowering his candle from his face. His hair was down, and he wore what looked to be his night time attire.

“I could not sleep. I know the hour is late but-“

“How did you find this place?” Alarra closed the robe around her body tighter.

“I wander when I cannot sleep.”

“You should not be here. I shall get a guard to escort you to your bed chambers-“ Aemond moved to the door but Alarra jumped towards him, throwing her hand out.

“No! Wait-“ Aemond stopped, turning back towards her. Her hand fell back at her side. “I just want one book and I’ll be on my way. Please.” She whispered the plea and Aemond seemed to pause, setting the candle down on a nearby table. Alarra couldn’t see him now, only his frame encased in black shadows visible.

Alarra assumed he could not see her at all, and she moved back towards the book shelf to where she was previously browsing. Then Alarra remembered she blew her candle out, and she blindly looked at books. She frowned, unable to see any books in front of her. She picked the first one in front of her, turning around but she jumped gasping. Aemond was now closer to her, the candle still sitting on the table, but she could see the outline of his body a few feet away from her.

Aemond picked back up the candle, and it slowly illuminated his arm up to his face, and Alarra watched him move towards her again, this time closer. The light made Alarra’s own shocked face visible and Aemond was looking at the book in her hand.

“History hen Valyrio.” He said, his eyes reaching hers and Alarra furrowed her eyebrows bringing the book to her eyesight. It was thick, and the only language on it was something she did not recognize. “I did not know the princess from the North spoke high Valyrian?” He jested, a small smirk on his lips. Alarra’s face got deep red and he leaned down to take the book from her hands. He was so close to her. Close enough to where she could smell the faint scent of soap and pine. She could even see his missing eye clearly. And she was mesmerized. It was a glowing purple, and Alarra quickly looked away when his eyes met hers. When he retracted the book from her hands slowly, she took a step away from him.

“I was just curious.” She said, crossing her arms over her chest. Aemond moved towards the table, sitting down at a chair, setting the candle and book next to him. Alarra stood there, watching him with a curious glance. What was he doing?

He opened the book, his fingers tracing over the pages lightly. Alarra watched him flip through the pages filled with history in a language she didn’t understand.

“Have I taken your tongue? Are you going to just stand there, zokla?” Alarra stiffened, and Aemond was still looking through the book, the soft rustle of paper as he turned pages interrupting the sanctuary of the library.

“I…” She started, her words in her throat once again.

“You?” He prompted, his voice low. The turning of pages promptly stopped, and Alarra watched as Aemond looked up from the book at her.

“I… know a little high Valyrian. My handmaiden speaks it.” Alarra confessed, moving towards the table.

“But enough to read it? I assume not.” Alarra huffed, feeling vulnerable. They were in a library together, speaking in a civil manner. Alone.

“I only know one word because my handmaiden says it a lot. Aek-” Aemond cut her bad pronunciation off, finishing the word.

“Aeksio. It means lord…where is your handmaiden from?”

“Essos…she was enslaved there and was sent here when she was young.” She said, sitting down at the chair in front of Aemond. Aemond stared at her for a moment, almost stunned that she had sat down, but he composed himself quickly and began scanning the pages of the book again. “What does the book say?” Alarra leaned over, to peek at the pages but Aemond slammed the book shut, standing with his candle in hand.

Alarra watched as he walked back over to the shelf, scanning the books with his candle before finding a particular book and bringing it back over to the table. This book was much larger than the one before, and had a wolf printed on the front of it. It was titled The Wolf in the North. Alarra sat up quickly, and Aemond opened the book skimming to find a particular page.

“Why is there a book about-“ Aemond shushed her and Alarra slouched back in her chair reluctantly. Then Aemond stopped turning pages, and flipped the book so it was facing Alarra. He pointed to a particular paragraph.

“Read it.” He muttered sternly, like a father scolding a child before leaning back in his chair. Alarra obeyed, reading the specific passage.

“The prophecy in which is forgotten by the Gods. A Wolf from the North will bleed into the South. Blood of a Wolf can start wars, but the blood of a Dragon will end the realm.When one dragon meets fate, a Wolf will seek refuge.” Alarra stopped reading, her eyebrows forming into a straight line.

“Continue.” Aemond said, his fingers pointing to the rest of the page.

“Packs are large but dragons are much larger. A Wolf from the North. A Dragon from the South. Wolves bite, and dragons take flight.” Alarra looked up at Aemond quickly. Helaena had said those words to her.

“What-“

“The rest of the book is about your heritage and family. But, why would a prophecy be in a book about the history of the North?” Aemond questioned, snatching the book back from Alarra, shutting it quickly. Alarra was quiet, not quite sure how to respond. But, Aemond was only questioning himself.

“Why did you choose to read that particular book?” Alarra asked, her eyes falling upon the book again before raising to meet Aemond’s gaze, his sapphire eye staring back at her.

“I’ve read every book in this library.” Alarra snorted, covering her mouth with her hand and Aemond’s face contorted into annoyance and anger. The library wasn’t too large, and there weren’t many books, maybe five shelves full, but Alarra still did not believe him. Aemond arched an eyebrow at Alarra’s skepticism.

“You are a woman who is a skilled swordsman. I am sure there are less shocking things in the realm.” Aemond echoed, the corner of his mouth twitching faintly to form into a satisfied smirk. He had called her skilled. Alarra laughed, her hands falling on the table to grab the book from him again.

“I will be needing this to fall asleep. Thank you for the humor, my prince.” She stood, and he stood with her grabbing his candle.

“Your candle?” He questioned and Alarra moved towards the floor where her candle lay. She reached Aemond, and he touched his candle with hers letting her candle ignite, two flames now glowing in the dim of the library. They both stood in silence, both of their candles burning slowly. Aemond then nodded his head, before turning and leaving the library, his candle light now gone.

The night had gone cold when Alarra ventured to her chambers after her encounter with the prince. And sleep had found Alarra that night. Alarra had not been able to sleep properly in weeks since leaving Winterfell. But that night, Alarra snuggled closer into her sheets, and for the first time she slept peacefully.

The next morning, Alarra had been summoned to speak with Rhaenyra. Rhaenyra was in her chambers, tending to one of her white-headed children Alarra did not know the name of. Rhaneyra smiled as Alarra entered and she approached the princess, respectfully bowing.

“Please, sit.” She pointed to a chair with her free hand, still holding the babe in the other. She passed the babe to a handmaiden, before sitting across from Alarra. “How are you this morning?”

“I am well.” Rhaenyra crossed her hands on her lap, clearing her throat.

“Your brother has sent a letter for you, but that is not why I have asked for you.” Alarra perked up, her eyebrows instantly raising at the mention of her brother. Rhaenyra was skeptical at first, but she smiled at Alarra again, but this smile was more reassuring.

“What is it, my princess?”

“I wish for you to train my sons, Jacaerys and Lucerys,” Rhaenyra shook her head, eyes closed for a moment. “If you are up for it, of course. I had heard the rumors of your…skill. I will say, I doubted it at first but Jace had convinced me otherwise telling me of your bravery,” Rhaenyra reached across for Alarra’s hand, squeezing it tightly. “You remind me of when I was young. I see myself in you.” Alarra swallowed harshly, before she squeezed the princesses hand back. Alarra could never refuse the words of a princess. Of a future queen. Alarra knew her answer the moment Rhaenyra had asked her.

“I will train them. If the princes can keep up with a Northerner.”

A/N: Thank you so much for reading! I'm so excited to dive into Alarra and Aemond’s relationship. While it is enemies to lovers, the beginning will not be as ‘enemy’ as the middle of the story. The worst is yet to come! They will start out as “friends” and then turn into enemies. So don't get disappointed just yet! I'm also very excited to see where Eyla’s character ends up because she is such a crucial character to the story and Alarra.

Tags: @mamawiggers1980, @kritara

#a song of ice and fire #aemond fanfiction #aemond one eye #aemond targaryen x oc #aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen x reader #game of thrones #hotd #house of the dragon #aemond fic #aemond smut #prince aemond #hotd aemond #aemond x reader #prince aemond targaryen

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thieves-never-say-die · 2 months ago

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Febuwhump 2025 masterlist

This is the first time I've completed a whole event! I had a blast (even if I burned myself out a bit lol oops). All fic links are below the cut.

Day 1: Vocal Cords. White Collar - Neal gets hurt on a job, and the injury interferes with a very important part of his identity.

Day 2: Holding Back Tears. White Collar - Post s3e16, Neal muses on the plane.

Day 3: Pinned Down. White Collar - Someone attacks Neal on his way to the Burke’s house.

Day 4: Alt 3 - Pick Who Dies. Leverage - Parker, Hardison, and Eliot are kidnapped together. Their captor asks Parker to make a choice.

Day 5: Not Trusting Reality. Leverage - During The Experimental Job, Parker sneaks in to give all the prisoners - including Eliot - jackets.

Day 6: Forced To Stay Awake. Leverage - Hardison is a genius who sometimes forgets he’s human. Good thing Eliot and Parker are there to remind him. Set during The King George Job.

Day 7: Alternate Timeline Self. Leverage/White Collar - Sterling and Hagan are identical twins who haven’t seen each other since they were ten.

Day 8: Bleeding Out. White Collar - Neal and Peter are kidnapped, and Peter is injured when they try to escape.

Day 9: Alt 8 - On The Run. White Collar - A look inside Neal’s mind when on the run pre-canon.

Day 10: Magic Exhaustion. The Librarians - Cassandra channels a bit too much magic during a case. There are consequences.

Day 11: Demonic Possession. The Librarians - Ezekiel can’t sleep, and he keeps losing time, ending up in strange places. He doesn’t think anything of it at first, until something more sinister happens.

Day 12: Used As Practice. Leverage - Moreau is experimenting with a new interrogation technique, and Eliot volunteers as a test subject.

Day 13: I Don't Trust Anyone Else. Leverage - Eliot gets injured during a job in season one. Parker is the only one around to help.

Day 14: Becoming The Monster. Leverage - A look through Eliot’s life, and what he sees in the mirror.

Day 15: Icarus. White Collar - Neal’s life, told through the myth of Icarus.

Day 16: Alt 6 - Emergency Surgery. White Collar - Neal gets injured during a case, only this injury has long-lasting repercussions.

Day 17: Alt 1 - Major Character Death. The Librarians - Ezekiel remembers And The Point of Salvation, but he doesn’t tell the rest of the team.

Day 18: Living Weapon. Leverage - Eliot doesn’t see himself the way the team sees him.

Day 19: Death Wish. The Librarians - Ezekiel doesn’t think anyone would mourn him if he died. An encounter with a magical creature shows him just how wrong he is.

Day 20: I Did Good, Right? White Collar - Neal calls in sick, and Peter goes to check on him.

Day 21: Put On Display. Leverage - A look into Eliot and Moreau's relationship pre-canon.

Day 22: Grab The Little One. White Collar - Peter and Mozzie are kidnapped together, and get on each other's nerves.

Day 23: Gunshot Wound. White Collar - Neal is sent undercover on a case that goes sideways.

Day 24: Forced To Beg. Leverage - Eliot and Hardison are kidnapped together. Rather than trying to break Eliot directly, their captor takes a different approach.

Day 25: Bound And Gagged. White Collar - Neal and Peter are kidnapped while undercover. Their captors don’t want to hurt Peter since he’s an FBI agent, but the same can’t be said for Neal. AKA Peter's POV of leave him alone.

Day 26: Concealing An Injury. White Collar - Neal has some bruises after getting shot in s4e10.

Day 27: Post-Victory Collapse. Leverage - Hardison gets kidnapped, and Eliot is injured while rescuing him.

Day 28: Recovery. White Collar - Neal recovers slowly from his injury. Chapter 2 of Day 1.

#febuwhump #febuwhump2025 #masterlist #febuwhump masterlist #my writing #leverage #white collar #the librarians #whump #fic rec

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wangxianficfinder · 1 year ago

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Fic Finder

Apr 2nd

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1. hi there, can yall help me find a modern au fic where wwx was kicked out of the jiang household and he started to spend his nights within his school premesis? i remember lqr, lxc and nmj being the ones to find him one night. thank you for yalls hard work 💐

FOUND? Where is home? by SpicyRamen_10969 (M, 80k, WIP, WangXian, Modern AU, High School, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Coming Out, Not Jiang Family Friendly, Supportive LQR, Good Sibling LXC, Fluff, Angst with a Happy Ending, JC Being an Asshole, Possible Smut?)

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2. Do you know fiction where wei ying travelled back to past but lan zhan feeling also travel back.

FOUND? 💖 Come Back to Me by s6115 (M, 9k, wangxian, time travel, fix-it, soulmates)

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3. Nsfw ask but this fic was one where wwx and lwj helps jc and lxc (jc was the one asking) how to have fun/ painless sex. They try multiple times but end up getting cockblocked or something of that sort @thatperson0-0

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4. Hi! I'm looking for a fic where during the Lotus Pier seige there is an array or something set up that protects it and results in a baby for WWX and LWJ that is about the same age as A-Yuan - they already know (can't remember how). As a result of that array, the baby, A-Yuan, and people involved can shift into animals. Thank you! @hpikachu2003

FOUND! 💖 Magical Marriage Ribbons Series by starandrea (Varies, 1m, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Accidental Marriage, Fluff, Happy Ending, Telepathic bond, Kink Negotiation, Family Drama, Magical Pregnancy, Dual Cultivation, Shapeshifters, Modern with Magic, Immortality, Yilling Wei Sect) has LWJ continuously struggling to vocalize nearly ANY of his sexual wants even well after wangxian get together

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5. looking for a fic that I thought I'd saved and hope i didn't dream it up... in this fic, I think wwx and lwj aren't tgt, but slept tgt? wwx finds out he is expecting, and instead of letting lwj know, he goes to the wens for refuge (I believe granny wen is mentioned in the description!) I don't know much else, other than it might be a modern au fic. thank you!

FOUND? Nothing but your heart by airinshaw (E, 21k, WangXian, Modern AU, A/B/O Dynamics, Implied Mpreg, First Time, Getting Together, Angst and Drama, Angst with a Happy Ending, Anal Sex, Whump, Breeding Kink)

FOUND? The Winner Takes It All by YilingSani (M, 46k, WangXian, Modern AU, Single Parent WWX, Old Friends, One Night Stands, No Smut, Angst with a Happy Ending, PTSD, Panic Attacks, Forgiveness, Second Chances, Inspired by Mamma Mia! (Movies) Teen Pregnancy, Mpreg, mention of miscarriage, Birth Trauma, amniotic fluid embolism) although Granny Wen isn't in the list of characters but she features in the story?

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6. Hi i am searching for a particular fic but it seems to have disappeared on me so the storyline was that LWJ and WWX were married but WWX wasn't happy in the marriage and LWJ comes to know this by hearing it from some where that WWX said so when he had gone to a flower house/brothel and then LWJ calls upon WQ to confirm if what he heard was true which she does and so he makes a decision to go leave planning to head to Yilling or CR and when he was travelling he encounters XXC and SL but doesn't reveal his identity of being WWX's husband just says that he is a disciple of the Lan and the 3 of them work on this night hunt where out of 3 wishes one would be fulfilled, is a curse related to i think some sisters also JWY was the emperor and WWX's post was either a general crown prince or a marquis and after WWX comes to know about LWJ leaving asks LWJ's maids who go with LWJ whenever he visits CR if they know where has he gone— with him also going to CR in search for LWJ (unsure) and JWY in a scene tells WWX some thing along the lines of that it wasn't probably also LWJ's choice, was being pressured into the marriage or so. most likely was muti-chaptered don't remember much of it and was on ao3. Thank you. @1p1rose1

FOUND! 💖 Eat, Pray, Night Hunt by Itszero (G, 29k, wangxian, Arranged Marriage, Reconciliation, Getting Together, YLLZ WWX, Misunderstandings, Royalty, Historical Inaccuracy, Happy Ending, Fluff, Imperial AU, palace au, Dual POV, Fluff and Angst, Historical Fantasy, Xianxia but also court drama ya know?)

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7. Hi! I'm looking for a CQL!verse fic in which people can choose to tie a red string between them when they get married (sort of a soulmate au, but not really). When wei wuxian falls off the cliff to his death, lwj ties a string between them. when wwx comes back, the string is how lwj recognizes him. when the canon plot is over, lwj thinks he has to cut the string between them. i think this fic might have been deleted, though, but any help you can give would be welcome. thanks

FOUND! 💖 a trail of blood to find your way back home by blackelement7 (T, 19k, wangxian, JC & WWX, what if a soulmate string au, but without the soulmates aspect of it, a reflection on the nature of marriage, WWX is full of regrets, so is LWJ, Mutual Pining, Miscommunication, JC & WWX Reconciliation, JC is trying his best but words are hard and his brother is stupid, Siblings, Canonical Character Death, but it's just WWX, accidental 3zun feels, WWX as the most unreliable of narrators)

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8. hi! thx so much for your work in the fandom. i'm looking for a fic where wwx is a sect leader and towards the end of the fic (I think) he's at a cultivation conference where someone tries to set fire to his rooms and he and lwj go into a qiankun box. i think at the very end wwx summons a phoenix born from the flames of his burned rooms. thx so much!

FOUND? A Phoenix Rising - An Untamed Story by AitchNKay (E, 130k, WangXian, The Untamed (TV) Ending, Angst, Porn With Plot, Anal Sex, jerking off, Top/Bottom Versatile | Switch WangXian, junior ducklings, Oral Sex, Post canon, Not everyone is gay, Family is everything, so many feelings, Introduction of New Characters, porn with feeling, Friendship, Healing, Suibian/Bichen/Chenqing/WangJi, 3 weddings and a funeral)

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9. hello, thanks for your work!

i was trying to search for this fic where wwx from post-canon travels back in time and is in around the yllz time, he keeps doting on lwj and yllz (past wwx) gets a bit jealous but doesn't know what to name it. he refuses to believe that he married lwj in the future and the future wwx gets mad at him and tells him not to hurt lwj. can't seem to find it anywhere.

FOUND? From the Future for the Past by friedchickenlord (G, 27k, wangxian, time travel, fluff, humor, love confessions, pining, happy ending, denial)

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10. Hi buddy, I have one request. If you have came across a wangxian fic where Wei Wuxian is reincarnated and came to Gusu with Lan Wanji ( I think LWJ is the chief cultivator here) and realised that LWJ was getting marriage proposals from around the (cultivation) World a lot. And he propose to conduct a competition to find the most suitable candidate from the available lot while being secretly heartbroken that he could not have LWJ. I'm not sure if it's ABO or not. A-yuan also has an important role in this fic. Plz help..... @grrumpywoof

FOUND? a morbid longing by sunandseas (E, 24k, WIP, WangXian, Mutual Pining Misunderstandings, Porn with Feelings, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Omega LWJ, Alpha WWX, Bottom LWJ, Possessive WWX, BAMF WWX, Protective WWX, Hurt LWJ, Dark WWX)

is that the one where the suitors have to steal a token from lwj, and lwj gives it to wwx, but wwx thinks it was just the gusu jade access pass and was really sad about someone winning the token?? 🤔 (based on the comic about the witch's cat?)

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11. Hii, I'm looking for a fic. It was about wwx wished that he does not exist in the life of people he love, because of what happens with jiang yanli, jin ling, jiang cheng and everyone he loves. So he live, but not with his parents, jc,lwj and so on. And there's one time his parents come to an inn and met wwx, they dont know who wwx is because they never have a kid. But wwx and his father, has a similar face, so when he look at wwx, he feel like wwx is his kid that he never have.. I hope that u know this fic is, because I have been trying to remember where and what fic it is but I cant. Thankyou for your hard work.

Pretty sure #11 is a twitter thread by cerbykerby but I don't have a twitter account any more and thus searching is hard

FOUND? For 11, this is the cerbykerby fic unrolled

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12. heyy admins! i'm looking for a fic where wei ying's parents turns out to be alive. from what i remember they somehow escaped the burial mounds after many years and they learned about wei ying from people then they made their way to the cloud recesses and they stayed there a bit. thanks in advance! <3

FOUND? The Long Winding Road Home by Admiranda (T, 13k, CSSR/WCZ, wangxian, flash forwards, Time Travel, Post canon, WWX's parents come to post canon mdzs, not for JC fans, fluffy family reunions, mocking LQR to his face, mocking JC to his face, wild rumors abound)

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13. Hello, I was wondering if you could help me find a fic. It was a pacific rim and atla fusion au where I think wwx was transferred to the station lwj was at. Then they were attacked and wangxian were either forced or called to go into a Jaeger together to attack the kaiju. @xo-minx

FOUND? The Weight of the World by KouriArashi (T, 67k, WangXian, XiYao, Pacific Rim Fusion, Robots, Monsters, robots fighting monsters, Family, Romance, Developing Relationship, Angst, (but not about the romances), Hurt/Comfort, Politics, Happy Ending)

FOUND? Thunder's Coming Over Me by phnelt (E, 38k, WIP, WangXian, Avatar & Benders Setting, Pacific Rim Fusion, temporary character death (wwx's), Angst with a Happy Ending, Action & Romance)

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14. Hello ! First of all, THANK YOU for your hard work on this blog and WangxianFicRecs, I really enjoy my time on both ! :) This is a first for me so I hope I'm asking properly (otherwise, please, excuse me^^'). I'm looking for a fic I think was on a list in FicRecs last month but I can't seem to find it back... I just skimmed through it at the time and thought that it was great and that I would come back to it later... except I forgot to bookmark it and had not luck searching my AO3 history so far :'(. It was a Wangxian AO3 fic and the only thing I remember clearly is a sentence where Wei Ying thinks about the way Lan Zhan smells and says that he decides LZ's scent smells like love.

Aaaaand I'm sorry because I know this isn't much, but if by any chance someone happened to know which fic it is and I could stop racking my brain, I would be super grateful for that ! :)

I wish you all a wonderful day/night !

I was #14 in the April 2nd FicFinder. I finally went through all of February posts and found again the fic I was looking for! It was in fact in your Crossdressing comp and it wasn't about LZ smelling like love but LZ's kiss tasting like love 😅.

Anyway, here's the fic : only the dead (have seen the end of war) by comforting_monachopsis.

Sorry to have bothered you and thanks again ! ❤️

FOUND? only the dead (have seen the end of war) by comforting_monachopsis (T, 42k, wangxian, JYL/JZX, temporary amnesia, BAMF WWX, sad LWJ, grief/mourning, loneliness, mild gore, secret identity, loss of identity, identity porn, angst, humor, crossdressing)

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15. Hi!! For next ficfinder, can you help me find this two fic?

A) a fic where Qin su is the one that resurrected Wei Wuxian and she give him a detail instruction. I remember a scene where Wei Wuxian try to seduce Jin Guangyao so that he can get out from Koi tower. If I'm not mistaken, Qin su and Lan Xichen is best friend and Xichen really sad and disappointed at himself for not realising his best friend is long dead. There are also part where wwx try to sunburn Qin su face so it become unrecognisable.

B) a fic where Lan Qiren is mistakenly drink wine in his teapot and he is doting to Wei Wuxian and told about marriage arrangement that has been sign by Cangse Sanren and Lan Wangji when they are a little kid.

Thank you and Have a nice day😘 @chibiizzy

15A)

FOUND! The Tales of Despereaux (CH 1-23) by stiltonbasket (T, 50k, wangxian, LXC/NMJ, JC & WWX, JYL/JZX, JC/WQ, Canon DivergenceAdditional Warnings In Author's Note, major ships are listed but others might pop up!)

15B)

FOUND! 🔒 Who gave Lan-xiansheng alcohol?! by HeloSoph (Not Rated, 14k, wangxian, LQR & WWX, CSSR & LQR, CSSR/WCZ, Cloud Recesses Study Arc, Canon Divergence, POV LQR, Drunk LQR, WWX is Loved, Jiāng Family Bashing, YZY Bashing, WangXian Get a Happy Ending, Engaged WangXian, Gūsū Lán Forehead Ribbon, Cloud Recesses Shenanigans, Character Death, Self-Indulgent, Wedding Planning, Fluff and Humor, Married WangXian, Good Uncle LQR, CSSR & LQR Friendship)

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16. Hi I really need help but there’s this wangxian fic where basically lan zhan keeps complimenting Wei wuxian and wwx tells him he has to give him notice before doing it so lan zhan gives him a time frame or writes him a letter etc. and i cannot for the life of me find it please help me find it 😭😭😭 @vilethot

FOUND! Content Warning: Romance by Ariaste (M, 5k, WangXian, BDSM, Praise Kink, nonsexual kink, which turns into sexual kink, wwx's canonical fetishes, Kink Negotiation, basically my ongoing mission to demonstrate to fandom that Kink Can Be Unbearably Soft Actually)

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17. Hi! How are y'all doing? for the next fic finder, I'm looking for a modern au, no magic, where fem!wwx goes to live with lwj after she turns 18 and her main goal is to get together with lwj so she's very shameless to the point that lwj has to tell her that he'll have to set rules if she continues like that, and asks if she's aware that he's a man

anyone knows it? I'm scared that it was deleted. Thanks! I hope y'all have a wonderful day!

FOUND! tell me what's your motive by sweetlolixo (E, 7k, wangxian, F/M, Modern, Genderbending, Female WWX, Male LWJ, Penis In Vagina Sex, Dirty Talk, Oral Sex, Breeding Kink, Masturbation, Size Difference, Stomach Bulge, JYL and LWJ best friends agenda, Older LWJ)

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18. Fic Finder: I'm looking for a fic where LWJ is cursed to his young child self. In Yiling, WWX sees a Lan boy with the forehead ribbon surrounded by people, and then he recognizes child LWJ. Child LWJ refuses to leave the nearby inn because he's waiting for his uncle and brother, who do not come. WWX waits with him and says he was a student of LQR, but LWJ doesn't believe him because his uncle did not teach when LWJ was young. Eventually WWX convinces LWJ to go to the burial mounds with him, and he writes a letter to LXC but he isn't sure if LWJ will recognize his brother as an adult.

Thanks in advance!

FOUND? I think this fic is the deleted "Staying close to you" by Venon. I couldn't find it on the wayback machine but I have a copy.

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19. Hi! I forgot to bookmark this time travel fic and the only thing i can remember is he came back during lan qiren’s class and he cried and suddenly fainted?? thank you!! @gideonmorningstar

FOUND? Wish Me Luck by Starlight1395 (Not Rated, 164k, WangXian, Fix It, Time Travel, Angst, PTSD, Hurt/Comfort, Flashbacks, Nightmares, Slight fluff, Implied Sexual Content, Lots of tears, cannon levels of blood/violence, Minor Character Death, secondary character death, Sibling Bonding, semi mild smut, mild Self-harm)

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20. hello!! i’m looking for a thread fic on twitter. lwj is feral alpha who’s been checked into a rehabilitation centre. i don’t remember exactly but there was yiling in the name. wwx is his assigned omega social worker who is the only one who can calm him down and the only one lwj listens to. i can’t remember all the details but I remember wwx giving lwj a rabbit and donkey soft toy. wwx would also play chess with him occasionally. lwj’s episode was triggered by his uncle’s discussion of getting him a mate. eventually lwj gets loose, wwx gets pregnant and gets in trouble for it even though there was some foul play. wen ning is also an alpha at the centre and wen qing visits him occasionally. thank you so much 💖 i never got to finish it and i really want to know how it ended!!

FOUND! come closer (i might not bite) by celerydragon (E, 4k, wangxian, WIP, A/B/O, Medical AU, Feral Behavior, Drama, Pregnancy, Unplanned Pregnancy, Mpreg) is being posted to ao3 now / this the original twitter thread for the rest of the story. unfortunately the thread is broken in a few parts so i’m glad the writer is starting to move it to ao3

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

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isabeauwolf · 2 months ago

Text

🌸 Isabeau's MHA x Mary (my OC) & Canon x reader Masterlist 🌸

🌸Ko-fi 🌸a03

Drawing of Mary, done by @kurumi-igarashi, here on tumblr! (one in the middle!)

Main fanfic

Q&A

Darkest Wolf: Overhaul x Mary (eventually x Dabi x Shiggy too)

🌸Prologue 1 🌸Prologue 2 🌸Prologue 3

🌸 Chapter 1: Coming Soon!

AU's

Monsterhaul x Mary x Dabi: She Wolf and The Beast AU (My Beauty and The Beast retelling with Monsterhaul, Mary and Dabi! 🐦‍⬛🔥🐺🌹)

- Warning both AU's are hella dark and overly smutty, if it ain't your thing -

Warning: Mentions of blood, nudity, Yandere Dabi, stalking, breeding kink, non-con, Dabi being overly horny, feral, and needy, masturbation, sexual content, obsessed and possessive Dabi over oc, adult language, 18+ Male Masturbation.

🌹Prologue part 1 🌹Prologue part 2 🌹Chapter 1 🌹Chapter 2🌹Chapter 3: Coming Soon!

Dabi x Mary x Overhaul (The Crow AU) 🐦‍⬛ - Dark Angel

Warning: Mentions of death, blood, rape, miscarriage, loss of pregnancy, drug use, mentions of suicide and suicidal thoughts, guns, gore, depression, madness. Revenge plot. Smut, somnophilia, forced pregnancy, fingering, and nudity. (18+)

- I'm serious, this is all kinds of fucked up - It's Yandere Overhaul and Unhinged Dabi! Of course, it's gonna be hella dark!

(mixture of fluffy and spice, wholesome and feels!) Dabi and Mary being overly horny and love sick idiots.

Overhaul being really yandere and more twisted and unhinged, unrequited love here. His sick obsession with Mary in this AU. (If you want to see more unhinged, horny Dabi checkout She Wolf and The Beast AU) I really put our birdman's possessiveness, controlling and intense, feral, touch and love starved man baby energy in this fanfic.

If you haven't watched The Crow(1994), there will be spoilers and some changes. Please, go watch it! I always cry, but its worth it.

🐦‍⬛ Prologue 🐦‍⬛ Chapter 1 🐦‍⬛ Chapter 2 🐦‍⬛ Chapter 3

Funsies

Overhaul x Mary x Dabi crack fic: Fruit Loops and Muffins - (Crack fanfic inspired by @staitc-rj)

Bath and Spa Day from Hell - Overhaul, Shigaraki, Dabi and Mary (crackfic) 2 (Inspired by my talk with @angelblueflame )

Dabi x Mary - Bloody Twisted Romeo and his Juliet (Mary as a Hero, instead of a Villainess) (Smut content 18+)

Mary's Sleepover with The League

Shiggy x Mary

New Years - Overhaul x Mary

PLF drabble

Mary gave Toga a Taser!

The Feel! T-T

Overhaul x Mary drabble - Nightmare and Passion

Snowy Winter Nights - Mary x Overhaul drabble 🐺🐦‍⬛💜❄️:

Dabi x Mary: "I'm glad that you were born"

Canon x reader (or multiple)

Ex Dabi x reader x Hawks

Part 1 - My World

Part 2 - It's Not Over (Smut content 18+)

Part 3 - Ashes and Feathers (Smut content 18+)

Part 4: Coming Soon!

Four. Four soulmates. Oh Kamisama no! - Reader x ShiggyOverDabiHawks

💞 Chapter 1 - Ignorance is Bliss

💞 Chapter 2- Unexpected Encounter

💞 Chapter 3 - The Matchmaking Goddess meddles

💞 Chapter 4: New Game. Love Game, Start.

💞 Chapter 5: Dance with Devils and a Red Winged Angel

💞 Chapter 6: The Red String

💞 Chapter 7: Fiction meets Reality

💞 Chapter 8: Fives a crowd?

💞 Chapter 9: Dinner with a yakuza, a birdman, a pyromaniac and decay man; what could happen?

Dabi x reader

💙 Incubus Dabi x Plus Size reader - Tainted Love and Burning Desire (18+ smut)

💙 Part 2 - My Lustful Demon (18+ smut)

💙 Part 3 - Raging flames and healing Ice (18+ smut)

💙 Part 4: Blue Flamed Jealousy (18+ smut)

💙 Part 5: Coming Soon

💙 Birthday smut (2025)

💙 Dabi x reader: As you Wish (Period Comfort)

💙 Dabi x fem Dhampir reader: Part 1 - Blood Red Valkyrie (18+ smut)

Hawks x reader

Dance in the Rain - Hawks x reader

A lemony and chocolaty birthday - Single Mom x Hawks

🐦‍⬛ Overhaul x reader 🐦‍⬛

👑 Queen Reader x Courtesan Overhaul ⛓️🐦‍⬛ (18+ smut)

Don't forget to send love to the artist @spectra-phantasma 😍🥰 For this mouthwatering artwork of our beloved yakuza birdman husband, Kai Chisaki, Overhaul! (one on the right!) Inspired this fanfic!

⛓️Part 1 - In Chains

⛓️Part 2 - The Queens One Winged Bird

⛓️Part 3: Coming Soon!

Favorite Hobby! (Self Writing Challenge)

🐦‍⬛ Overhaul x reader - The Raven and The Baker (Overhaul Birthday fanfic 2025) Part 1

🐦‍⬛ God Monsterhaul x fem reader 🐦‍⬛

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3

One Piece

Trafalgar Law x Pregnant reader

💛 Chapter 1 - Coffee and Confessions

💛 Chapter 2 - Somebody call a doctor?

💛 Chapter 3: Heartbeat

💛 Chapter 4: Coming Soon!

Reader x Merman Law

💛 Part 1 - Songstress and The Doctor

💛 Part 2 - Warning

💛 Part 3 - Nest

💛Part 4 - Rest

💛 Part 5 - The Heart Pirates

💛 Part 6 - Doctors Orders

Law x Plus Size Nurse reader

💛 Chapter 1 - Dr Grumpy's got a crush

💛 Chapter 2 - Tender

💛 Chapter 3 - Not so Heartless

💛 Chapter 4 - Traffy

💛 Chapter 5 - Misunderstandings

💛 Chapter 6 - Now or Never

💛 Chapter 7 - War of Hearts

------------------------

Damn, I didn't realize I wrote so much last year and this year. XD Whoops

Taglist: @doumadono @fanofflames @spectra-phantasma @fairymama624 @cherry-queens-blog @angelblueflame @lucyblue101 @lura-valentine @redr0sewrites @staitc-rj @slayfics @nakiich @meeludrawz @gamergirl-niffler

#Isabeau Masterlist #Isabeau Writes #Everything I've written since last year!#2024 and 2025 Write #My Fanfics #canon x reader #my oc x canon #Dabi x reader #Overhaul x reader #Hawks x reader #Trafalgar Law x reader #My OC x Overhaul #My OC x Dabi #My OC x Shigaraki #Isabeau Fanfics

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fictionallystable · 9 months ago

Text

Rating: Mature

Fandom: Call of Duty (Video Games)

Relationship: Phillip Graves (Call of Duty)/Reader

Characters: Reader, Phillip Graves (Call of Duty), Original Male Character(s)

Additional Tags: Author Has Played Call of Duty, Childhood Friends, Miscommunication, Mutual Pining, Civilian!Reader, Pre-Canon, Jealousy, Angst, Kissing, Mild Smut, Time Skips, Brother's Best Friend, Toxic Family Dynamics, Eventual Smut, Drama, Misunderstandings, Getting Together, Minor Age Gap

Words: 9,080| Chapters: 5/6

Authors: @orphancains & @collinnmckinley

Chapter 5: Reminiscence

Chapter summery: You spend more time with Phil than you expected during your visit, and more old memories and new emotions start to surface.

A/N: Apologies for the long wait! Here is another longer chapter. Next chapter should be the final one in this story. We hope you've been enjoying it so far. ////

the fic can also be found on AO3

tags will be updated!!

When you woke up, your eyes still felt swollen from crying the night before. But you trudged out of Matty’s room, surprised to hear voices already from the kitchen of your parents’ home. You were expecting to see your mom in her same old bathrobe and your dad sipping his usual black coffee as he read the paper. But instead you saw Matty making fluffy pancakes at the stove and Elaine cutting some strawberries.

“Mornin’, sleepy head,” Matty said when turned and saw you. “Pancakes are almost done.”

You rubbed your eyes. “Good morning,” you said to both him and Elaine, who smiled back. “Where’s mom and dad?”

Matty placed a plate with a tall stack of pancakes on the table and took a sip of his coffee before answering you. “They went to the beach house a few days early. To clear their minds a bit.”

You frowned. “What? Why? I thought they were gonna stay the day with us and catch up.”

“Because if either of them had greeted you this morning it would’ve been another shouting match.”

Elaine came up to the table and shot Matty a pointed look, as if telling him ‘You could’ve explained it a bit more gently,’ before setting down the bowl of fruit.

You groaned and sat down at your usual seat at the kitchen table. You let out a long sigh wishing you could crawl back to bed and that this was all a nightmare you still hadn’t woken from. You weren’t sure if you were sighing from defeat, shame, or even relief from learning your parents had fled from their house because of last night. You scratched your head in frustration, remembering the furious look in your father’s eyes and the disappointing glazing your mother’s all night just a few hours prior.

Matty shrugged but still smiled his usual relaxed smile. “It’s alright, that just means there are more pancakes for us three, so let’s dig in.”

Elaine pursed her lips, feeling the awkwardness begin to build in the air. “Did you want coffee, [Y/N]?” Elaine asked.

“Yes thank you, with some milk please,” you replied, and she replaced the mug with a glass instead. Usually you were excited to eat some of your brother’s famous fluffy signature pancakes, with chocolate chips throughout the soft dough. But the headache still lingered in your temples from last night and your eyes still burned from the tears.

Above all, you felt embarrassed for what happened the night before. You knew it was neither your fault nor Matty’s. If anyone was to blame, it was your father and Richard conspiring a surprise proposal on you without any regard for your actual wishes, or Matty’s for that matter. And you knew Matty, even after all these years, was still protective over you. Still, you realized that your relationship exploding overnight had also upended and shattered a night that was supposed to be for him and Elaine. You felt like you once again felt like the little sister who brought unnecessary drama to his life.

But your family life had possibly never been this messy before. You’d bickered with your father about trying to make more friends in high school and of taking your studies beyond art more seriously. But the fury that reddened his face and made him grab and shake you was something you’d never seen. You only hoped that somehow things could get better between you all by the time you were going to meet up with them at the beach house in several days. You hoped it would just be the four of you, plus Elaine, at the beach house. You always dreaded when your social butterfly of a father would invite other families to join along during your beach trips. But for once, you prayed others would be invited to melt some of the bitterness and tension that you were confident you’d run into once you entered the house.

You pondered deeply before taking a sip of the orange juice and grabbing a few pancakes from the tower that your brother had practically constructed at the center of the table. Already he was digging in, dousing his pancakes with nutella and syrup. But he took a break from wolfing down his breakfast to continue his conversation with you.

He lifted his coffee mug with the faded maroon Texas A&M University on its side, but before he took a sip, he decided to break the silence “So…. I saw you and Phil caught up with each other a bit last night too.” He took a loud sip from the mug and peered at you over the mug.

Your fork clanked against your plate. You breathed in sharply, remembering the butterflies and emotions that flooded you when you saw him. The anger, the relief, the nostalgia, and even the old adoration you always felt for him even as a kid. Along with another emotion you still couldn’t quite put your finger on. Upon seeing your reaction, your brother tried to contain the smirk that wanted to appear on his lips.

“Yeah, he changed a lot but also didn’t change one bit.” You bit your lip, puzzled. “How’s that even possible?”

Matty chuckles with a glint in his eye, making you raise an eyebrow. “Well, little sister, that’s what happens when boys become men .”

You shot him an unamused look, almost glaring at him. Beside him you could see Elaine rolling her eyes but also holding back a grin before she ate some of her fruit. Seeing your annoyance, Matty only laughed more.

“Something some jackasses I know of are still struggling to do,” you muttered darkly while you stabbed one of your pancakes with your fork.

Your brother still grinned widely. “What did you guys talk about?”

Now it was your turn to roll your eyes. “Nothing too amazing, Matty. Probably the same as with you. His time in the Marine Corps, some of the friends he made while there.” You tried to downplay it.

“Mhmm.” he narrowed his eyes with a smirk.

You gulped nervously. “Anyway, can we talk about something else?”

“Sure, sure…” Your brother held up his hands, feigning defense. “We can talk about whatever, as long as you're comfortable, [Y/N].”

“Thank you, Matty.”

Elaine hummed approvingly beside him, impressed with how gentle and open he seemed to be acting with you.

Matty cleared his throat and filled his mug with more coffee. “So, what did you think of the catering? The Mediterranean food we ordered for dinner?”

You squinted trying to remember. “It was pretty good, actually.”

“Right? I thought so too! I thought it was a great idea.”

You blinked. “Yeah…” you paused. “I guess I was surprised you guys didn’t just settle for a barbeque just because it’s summer. Where was it from?”

“Oh, it was from Calypso’s Bistro, close to the plant nursery you liked as a kid.” He said with a cheeky grin.

You furrowed your brow, wondering why he was acting so oddly. “Okay… that’s nice.”

“Phil recommended it to me.” He grinned again.

You clanked your fork again against your plate as you dropped it. He was not going to drop Phil from this breakfast conversation, was he? You glowered at him and crossed your arms. From the corner of your eye, you could see Elaine shaking her head but also holding back a laugh.

“Come on, what else did you guys talk about?” He said. “I know he talked about his work, but I’m curious about what he asked you !”

Rolling your eyes, you sighed as you poured yourself some more coffee in your mug. “I dunno, Matty! I don’t know what you want to hear! I mean, he did ask me about my designs and architecture plans. He seemed curious and interested about that!”

Matty ogled curiously. “I’d bet he’d like the designs you worked on, you know. Maybe if he gets a building of sorts for his work one day when he retires from the military, you can design it for him.”

“Okay, that’s a big if, Matty,” you grumbled back.

“But it’s possible! Good thing you guys probably exchanged numbers, right?”

You ignored him but noticed your coffee was still black. “Could you pass the milk, Elaine?”

“Remember when Phil bought you three of those little school lunch chocolate milk cartoons because you mentioned to him that you liked them? And then his mom gave him an earful for spending so much of his allowance on that?”

Elaine was starting to have enough. “Matty, give it a res—”

But your eyes narrowing into another glare, they widened. “Yes! I think I actually drank two of them but he and I split the third one because I was starting to get full.”

“Oh yeah! That’s how he defended himself when his mom was yelling at him. ‘Ma, we drank ‘em together after school, because we both like chocolate milk. And plus she’s Matty’s little sister.’” You both chuckled together. Suddenly, you felt the pulsing tension at your temples and behind your eyes started to melt away a little.

“Yeah, that was something I totally forgot about. I mean, last night we did talk a little bit about when we were kids. Like, I remembered how he helped carry my books when I broke my ankle and you were stuck at baseball practice.”

“Oh yeah, you could barely use your crutches.” He snickered.

You tried to ignore that. “And we did talk a little bit about when… he left for bootcamp out of nowhere.”

Matty knew that was a sensitive nerve and he grimaced slightly before looking back down at the puddle of syrup and nutella on his plate. He knew that roadblock in the conversation might pop up but he was hoping that somehow both of you had agreed to not touch that topic. But now he was worried the two of you didn’t want to face each other again.

“But… I think both of us understand we were both kids with shitty communication skills and have moved on from that.”

At this Matty perked back up. “Really? Thank God!” He paused. “I mean, I’m glad y’all have made peace over that. I’m sure it’s a weight off both of you.”

You nodded pensively, actually agreeing with him. In spite of all the discord and pain that surfaced last night. You still felt a blackhole gaping in your chest, knowing how disappointed your parents were in you. But there was also a flickering happiness and relief that you felt when you remember that you and Phil were back on speaking terms. Maybe you could even stay in touch after this vacation…

Matty continued. “See? I mean, you and him—a-and of course me and him—go so far back. I know you maybe weren’t expecting to see him last night, but I’m glad that at least I know I can invite him to Elaine’s and my wedding.”

Elaine piped up. “You sure he’d want to come?”

You stared in confusion. Elaine noticed.

“What I mean is I know it would mean a lot to you, Matty, but he’s military. I don’t know too much about those guys, but I can’t exactly picture him being excited to put himself in a suit and bowtie for a long ceremony in a church.”

Matty shook his head. “No, no no. I know, Phil. He’d be totally happy to come. He told me himself that he would also invite me to his wedding when his time comes. I mean, come on, we're practically brothers. We’d do anything for each other. We even joked about naming our kids after each other.”

You wanted to almost scoff at that in disbelief. “Phil with kids?”

“Oh yeah. I know for sure Phil wants a family. He said that he wanted at least three kids.”

You nearly staggered back at this. “Three ki—What? When did he say that?” Maybe you’d gotten so used to seeing Phil as a protective friend that the thought of him being a family man himself felt foreign to you. The image of little kids running behind Phil in a Texas backyard or him cooing at a swaddled baby in his arms was one that you’d never thought about before… but it was one that for some reason made your chest clench for a split second.

“Uhh, right after graduating from high school I think. He seemed pretty dead set on it too.” Matty replied nonchalantly as he picked up his plate, heading to the sink to rinse.

You scoffed. “Matty, that was ages ago. He was still a kid himself then! He could’ve changed his mind since then. You never know what he might’ve seen while in the Marines and it could’ve changed his perception on his family and kids.”

Matty laughed, walking back to the kitchen table to pick up Elaine’s now empty plate too. Before he returned to the sink he bent down to look at you closer. “Never underestimate a man’s dream when he’s serious about it, [Y/N].” He turned around and continued chattering on. “Plus, the military sometimes only enforces your plan of wanting a family.”

You crossed your arms over your chest again, amused with how your brother seemed to know everything about the military now because of Phil. “Oh yeah? And how in the hell would you of all people know that? Did he tell you that himself? I doubt—”

“Actually, yes he did. Last night.” Your brother smirked at you. “And that's exactly what he said to me. Because you never know what will happen and when it will happen when you’re in combat overseas.”

You sank down on your chair, feeling a little defeated from your bickering match with your brother. You were glad he was able to catch up with Phil too. But your chest continued to strangely clench at the thought of Phil looking for a wife and planning to have a big family with them. You weren’t sure what you were expecting. That he’d always be the nice guy in the neighborhood who’d play with you and your brother, but also treat you gently and whom you could always count on to protect you when you were playing too late outside at night?

You didn’t know how to answer. “Good for Phil”? You felt at a loss for words. You were surprised too that this conversion never appeared when you were chatting with Phil last night. But you also knew it was foolish to not realize Phil was probably dating other women all the time. He was handsome, he was charismatic and smart, and he had a successful military career. He checked off all the boxes and knew he was probably a women-magnet wherever he went.

You felt a small pool of jealousy begin to well up in your gut. But you didn’t understand why. He had every right to date other women. Just like he had every right to date girls when he was a teenager—even if it broke your heart—and to invite them to his home, and to kiss in his pool in his parents’ backyard even if you were clueless to it all. The memories of that day suddenly flashed back. You shook yourself out of it and brought a banana slice that Elaine had cut earlier to your mouth, trying to blink the memories away from your vision.

“Soooo…. What’re your plans for the rest of the day?”

You shook out of your reverie “I’m not sure to be honest. I’m back in town after so long—but after last night I don’t feel like doing much. So I might just stay home. Plus I have a few emails from work I need to look at—”

“No, no, no, no, no. You’re here on vacation, [Y/N]. No work. No emails.”

Elaine nodded vigorously as she added the last pancake onto her plate. “Absolutely no work.”

You groaned. “Fine. What do you want me to do today then? You’re the engaged couple whom we’re meeting in honor of, after all.”

Before answering, Matty glanced over at Elaine and gave her a knowing look, one with a mischievous glint in his eye. “Oh, we’re ain’t planning to babysit you. And you’re definitely not gonna be third-wheelin’ us. You gotta get your own plans going, lil sis.”

Once again, you groaned and rubbed your hands over your face in frustration. “Then why bother asking me?!” You really didn’t want to leave the house. Word of Richard’s horrible from last night would’ve probably traveled across your friend and family groups. The thought of them asking you about it made your stomach churn. The idea of crawling back into bed and burying yourself in blankets was the only thing that appealed to you. But you knew that you would only lie awake in bed, staring at the ceiling fan, replaying all the horrible events from the party in your head over and over again until you went insane.

Elaine chimed in, her soft voice catching you by surprise. She was always soft-spoken and quiet, a total opposite to Matty’s outspoken and blunt nature. You were surprised she’d be offering an idea. “Honey, didn’t Phillip say that he was staying all by himself at his parents house? Maybe [Y/N] and him could keep each other company while we go visit the bakery about our wedding cake.”

You looked at her with wide eyes, totally baffled by that suggestion. That was something you’d expect from Matty who kept on teasing you all morning about Phil. Even Matty looked at her in bewilderment. But, holding his gaze with his fianceé’s, he mouth fell ajar as if he suddenly understood what Elaine said. As quiet as Elaine was, she always paid attention and caught small cues around her. It was one of the advantages of listening instead of constantly speaking. And she definitely noticed Matty constantly bringing up Phillip Graves throughout their breakfast with his little sister.

“Oh! That’s right. Yeah, I’m sure Phil would be more than happy to catch up with you. He’s actually kind of on the same boat as you. You both have been living out-of-town for so long. Y’all would be a good pair—t-to spend the day together and see how the city’s changed.”

Elaine nodded, a small smile on her rosy lips. “I obviously didn’t grow up with y’all, so I only know anything about your past from what you’ve said, but you and him seem to still have a lot of chemistry from when you were kids.”

You wanted to blush. Maybe even disagree and meekly explain you were just making small talk and being polite with each other. Instead, your thoughts were interrupted when your brother said, “Well, we’re gonna go wash up and get ready to head out. We made an appointment with a wedding cake business the town over.”

Oh . You were hoping you could spend the day with them. You rarely got to see Matty due to your work. Usually you could only catch up during Christmas, Thanksgiving, maybe for a birthday or for a special Fourth of July party your parents would throw every couple of years when they were in the mood. You also wanted to catch up with Elaine. As a child, you always wanted a sister. And she was like the sister you never had. Growing up, you struggled making friends, sticking instead to becoming a shadow behind Matty and Phil when they would hang out after school. Usually, you watched as they played video games or played basketball, drawing in your sketchbook when they didn’t invite you to join in. As a younger girl, you did play with dolls with some girls. But it was harder to make friends once you got intensely passionate about your art. Yet, Elaine seemed sweet enough to form a friendship with.

“Then, after that, I wanna show Elaine around town a little more. We’ll probably be home maybe for a late dinner. So until then, try to keep busy, alright? No emails! No work.”

You raised your hands up in defense. “No emails,” you repeated.

“Maybe give Phil a call. He can keep you busy while we’re out.”

You rolled your eyes, averting your eyes in embarrassment early enough to miss the smirk on Matty’s lips. It was one that made Elaine want to roll her own playfully, but she giggled quietly instead to herself. The two of them headed to their quarters to get dressed, while you trudged back to the guest room. You also needed to get washed up, but the thought of strolling through your hometown by yourself, especially after the embarrassing scene of last night that surely spread like wildfire through your family’s social circles, seemed unpleasant.

It was almost lunch time, and you still could not budge out of bed. Still in your pajamas, you were laying in bed idly, watching as the time passed as slowly as ever. You found yourself scrolling through social media, eyes scanning everyone’s elated comments under Matty and Elaine’s photos from last night’s engagement party. You were tagged in a few of them, earning you a few new friend requests from former high school classmates that you wished you could’ve forgotten entirely.

In some photos, your eyes snapped to find Phil among the group of family friends. When you first found him smiling next to Matty in one photo, you swallowed hard and felt butterflies form in your stomach. Your eyes lingered over his photographed form longer than others. How did his smile seem to become even more handsome and radiant after all these years? You felt yourself grow tense, even while laying down, when you noticed how toned his arms looked in the shirt he wore last night. You remembered thinking the same when watching him as he talked to you in the living room after… the incident. In Matty’s room now and with the photo, you couldn’t stop staring. Your mouth grew dry when you saw there were at least four other photos of him and Matty in the collection of photos. But you found yourself disappointed to see that, no, Phil himself was not tagged. In fact, Phil didn’t have any social media accounts. Probably because of his sensitive line of work, you figured. Still, it would’ve been nice to learn more about what he was like now as an adult.

Wait , why are you thinking about him so much?! You wondered how you got to this point where you were practically drooling over photos of your brother’s best friend and staying inside all day like a hermit during your free time back home. You found yourself blushing by yourself in Matty's old bedroom, realizing what you’d spent the last ten minutes of your morning doing. You groaned as you threw your phone down against the pillow on your bed. You decided, come on, you need to get up. You need to at least get some lunch.

Preferring not to look through the pantry of healthy, over-priced super-foods your mom kept in stock, you knew a diner or fast food joint was your best bet for something that was actually tasty. It was warm outside, but thankfully the diner you had in mind was close enough that an Uber would not cost too much to take you. It was the very same one that you and Matty would take you when you were feeling sad or discouraged from schoolwork or from drama with some of the girls in your class. He’d always buy you a milkshake and fries. That paired with a pep talk from your big brother always managed to cheer you up.

The diner hadn’t changed much. As usual, blue, red, and white jerseys of the Houston Texans football team were draped proudly on some of the walls and old photographs of the owner with other football players from the nineties were framed for visitors to marvel at while they ate. You were almost as shocked by how unchanged it was as you were by the fact it was still standing. Such an old business still managed to remain alive after all these years. The same smell of french fries and the sound of sizzling burger patties in the kitchen while old classic rock played made you feel like you were a little girl again waiting for Matty in his letterman to ask the server for a booth instead of a table.

Milkshake and fries, you ordered by instinct when the server, a nice woman in her fifties and short cropped graying curls approached your table with her notepad. You were starving. The growling of your stomach made you add one of their new bacon-and-kimchi burgers to your order that the server had hyped up. “I’ll get that right out for you, hun,” she said with a smile and left you to your thoughts.

You felt tempted to scroll again through the photos from last night. But you tried desperately to pull yourself away from those thoughts whirling down that rabbit hole again. You played aimlessly with the paper napkin on the table in front of you and watched around you as families and couples sat together. They chattered endlessly, some even bursting out laughing in joy, as they enjoyed their lunch together. You huffed out a long sigh seeing this. You had gone out to feel less alone, to feel like you were doing something. Instead, you were reminded of how alone you were now that everyone in your hometown and your brother were busy.

You opened your phone under the table, averting your gaze from everyone else. You almost felt embarrassed by what you were about to do. Matty definitely would’ve disapproved. You pulled up the Uber app again. You would just ask for a to-go box and eat your food in peace at home without the cacophony of other people around you in your own lonely company. Next time, you would just order delivery instead of wasting money on Uber, you scolded yourself.

While you were going through the app, someone slid into the booth to sit across from you. You tensed up. Annoyed, you were prepared to tell this person that you were in fact saving that seat for someone else—a lie—and that they needed to leave you the hell alone. When you lifted your head back up to glower at the uninvited lunch guest, your mouth fell agape.

Seeing the look of shock on your face, Phil chuckled in amusement and beamed knowingly at you. How in the hell did he end up here at the same time as you? You spent all morning thinking about him and practically studying his photos from last night, you felt like you were now simply imagining him sitting across from you.

The almost smug look on his face told you that he knew he was confusing the hell out of you. You had a lot of questions but were left speechless at the sight of him. His hair was slightly damp, as if he’d just finished showering a while ago. He had on a plain white t-shirt and had his keys in his hands still, making you realize he had just driven and parked his car here not too many minutes ago. He also held a paper cup with no lid, revealing some black coffee he must’ve picked up before he got here. Phil himself wanted to break the ice and brush away the confusion clearly still in the air. But he couldn’t help but continue to bask in the hilarity of the baffled look on your face, like a deer stuck in headlights. Since a kid, he always loved how expressive you were with your face. But now, as an adult, he also couldn't help but admire your face for how bright and warm your eyes looked, your cheeks for how you blushed furiously at some of his comments, and your lips for how soft he imagined they could be-.

“Hi there,” he chirped.

You were still totally bewildered but slowly began to shake yourself out of it. “H-hi…”

“So, are you here to try the new burger? I heard good things about it.”

You couldn’t believe that of all things to bring up, he decided to mention the damn bacon-and-kimchi burger. “Um,” you stammered, “yeah, Matty mentioned that they were trying new ‘experimental’ burgers now… Honestly, I intended to come here for the shake and fries.”

He hummed in understanding before taking a sip of his coffee. All you could do was stare, and he stared back at you sharply over his cup as he sipped his drink—his eyes never once leaving your face. Last night, you two never stopped chatting. Yet here, everything between you was nauseatingly silent so far, and you clicked your phone’s screen off, forgetting about your Uber plans immediately.

You studied him closely again. This time you noticed the veins running along his hands as he sipped his coffee, his rolex his father gifted him ages ago adorning his wrist too. You noticed even a small scar running across his outer forearm that you didn’t notice the night before. Then, your eyes traveled back up to glance at his neck, leading up to the curve of his jaw. You bit down hard on your lip as you began to rip away little pieces of the napkin you were toying with this whole time. You were growing frustrated by how nervous you felt around him, at how a heat seemed to rise from your skin when you noticed how his eyes didn’t leave your own form while yours couldn’t seem to stay still on him. It was like staring at the sun. You felt like you couldn’t stare too long at him, otherwise you would tread into dangerous territory. You felt your soul tremble under his eye. From your small glimpses, you could see that his eyes harbored a lot more untold memories and hardships that he’d collected over the years since he left your hometown. Still, the hardened look in his eyes made something in your stomach stir, and you felt yourself crossing your legs at your ankles nervously.

He placed his coffee back on the table, a smile now on his face, his eyes softening once again into a much for familiar gaze. Still, you looked away frantically, studying instead now the dead ants and dust that collected in the window sill beside your booth. You took a deep breath and let it out sharply, before plucking the courage to ask Phil, “So, was it Matty? Or was it Elaine?”

He blinked, feigning ignorance. “Hm? What are you talking about?”

He couldn’t fool you that easily. You almost rolled your eyes. Instead you gave him a pointed look, raising an unamused eyebrow at him. He was aware that you knew that him finding you eating a burger all by yourself in your favorite childhood burger joints was not simply a coincidence. And that he just happened to be going to that diner the exact same day and time? Not a chance.

But as much as you wanted to pry the truth from him, Phil was also stubborn. Sure, it wasn’t a coincidence that you met in this diner once more, but he wanted it to be one. He wouldn’t give Matty or Elaine the credit for him running into you. Maybe Matty did send him a text this morning that you’d be spending the day alone, since Elaine and him would be in the next town over. Maybe he also did add that he suggested you try that kimchi burger from your favorite burger joint. But it was him, Phil, that put one and two together and knew you’d probably end up here of all places for lunch.

He leaned in across the table, his eyes still locked on you sharp. “Remember what I told you last night after we exchanged contacts?”

You furrowed your brow. So many words were exchanged that night, your mind was scattered with how he was looking at you. You felt speechless, breathless.

“If you don't come by my house today, I would snatch you myself,” he quotes himself from last night with a mischievous glint now in his eyes. You, on the other hand, felt your heart start to pound in your chest. Once again, you felt something stir in your lower stomach. You didn’t know how to respond, instead staring at him like a deer caught in headlights.

The server from earlier sauntered over to your booth. You expected her to be carrying just one plate with your burger. Instead, you saw that on either hand, she had two plates with the burgers. “Here y’all are,” she said as she placed both plates in front of you and Phil. Instead of a kimchi burger, he had a classic bacon cheeseburger. You actually smiled at the sight. It was his same order from when he was a kid. Looks like his taste buds hadn’t changed too much since then.

You watched instead as Phil thanked the server, using his best southern manners.

“And that milkshake will come in a few minutes, miss,” she added before leaving once more.

Phil glanced up at you, smiling calmly. “Looks like great minds think alike, huh,” he chirped.

You scoffed. You wanted to snap back at him, but you were starving. Both you and Phil devoured your burgers. It felt nice to just sit and have a meal with him. At first it was silent but not the awkward silence that would engulf you and make you feel small. Instead, it felt relaxing. There was little pressure to be someone you weren’t, to put on a performance or slip on a mask, when you were around Phil. But as you started to finish up your burger, he began to pipe up again. “So, how are you feeling today? After…”

“Better,” you sighed. “I mean, thankfully my brother and Elaine were okay with how the party kind of turned into a disaster. But I haven't spoken much to my parents… they’re, um, out of town already.”

This caught Phil's interest. He narrowed his eyes slightly, but nodded along as he listened.

“Your dad was always a man with… high expectations. High standards. My dad was the same way, as you well know. No one was immune from my dad’s criticism. I think that’s why they got along so well. Because they could turn their nose up at everyone.”

You chuckled. “Right.”

“That must be why he liked Richard, too.”

You nearly choked on your water. You coughed, looking up at him in shock, but he wore the same nonchalant, innocent look on his face while he dipped the last of fries into the ketchup on his plate. “Speaking of which, have you heard anything from him? Spoken with him since?”

You couldn’t scowl as hard as you wanted to. A part of you wanted to ask Phil why it mattered to him in the first place. But another part wanted to flood him with the disappointment you were feeling in knowing that Richard had not bothered to call you, to visit you. Instead, he sent you a text message this morning with nothing more than a link and phone number of a local moving and shipping company in Seattle—as if to say, “Here, move yourself out or get someone else to do it. But don’t count on me.”

You sighed. “No, I think it’s clear he’s done with me… just like I am with him,” you confessed to Phil, who furrowed his brows as if he was in deep thought as he listened to you. In reality, gears were turning in his head. “I, um, will probably move out of his place once I return to Seattle. Honestly, with all he said to me, I’m just trying to avoid him right now, as much as I can.”

He nodded in understanding. “Well. I know your parents didn’t react in the most ideal of ways last night. But you always have Matty’s and my support, alright? How’d you even get here anyway?”

“Uber,” you admitted.

He rolled his eyes. “Well, in addition to offering you my unconditional support in this moment of your life, I will also offer to drive you anywhere you’d like while you’re in town.”

“You sure?”

He scoffed in disbelief. “Of course! An Uber? Really?”

Before you could reply, however, the same server returned with your chocolate milkshake to-go. You smiled and gave thanks. As you dug into your purse to look for your wallet, you heard Phil.

“Oh, no, no, no. I’m covering this,” he said firmly. “You do not have to worry at all.” From his own wallet, he pulled out several bills to cover the cost and enough to give the kind server a hefty tip for her attentiveness.

“Phil!” you hissed in panic. “You don’t have to do that!”

The server chuckled as she collected the bills. “Don’t worry, hun. You found yourself a nice gentleman with manners who knows not to let the lady pay when on a date, right?” she grinned at Phil, who only chuckled back. Of course the cocky bastard didn’t bother to correct her. With that she turned away, wishing you both a good rest of your day, and left you alone with Phil once again.

“Just being polite, huh?” you looked at him pointedly, both of you heading out the door of the diner now, getting immediately engulfed in a warm, but gentle breeze.

“Like my mother taught me,” he replied, winking at you slyly. You both walked to his car, your mind in deep thought. You had gotten snacks and lunches with Phil and Matty in the past as kids, but Phil never covered your meal for you. And you never felt the buzzing in your stomach around him with anyone else before. You swallowed hard and took a deep breath. Phil had changed a lot, hardened by the military and by life under his draconian father’s sometimes unfair expectations. And some parts of him hadn’t changed a bit, especially his boyish and sometimes cocky humor. Yet, it was undeniable this was the kid Phil that you only tagged along with sometimes. He looked at you, spoke to you differently, in ways that made your heart race, your palms sweat, and made you bite your lip in frustration.

As he unlocked the doors to his car, he asked, “So, where’d ya wanna go?”

You shrugged. You frankly had no plans laid out for the day, other than lazing around at home waiting for Matty and Elaine.

You both slid into the car, him behind the wheel and you at shotgun. He looked over at you after starting his car, the A/C blowing gently against both of you. You sipped on your milkshake, as he lowered the music that was playing to continue chatting with you without interruption. You noticed he still liked classic rock, just like the bands you and Matty would listen to with him after school. “You wanna come by my place?” he suggested. “I did tell you I wanted to cook you dinner at some point while we’re both here.”

You nearly gasped, but still looked at him in disbelief. But you couldn’t conceal the contagious, sheepish smile that was crawling onto your face at this offer. “Phil, you just bought me lunch, you can’t make me dinner either! What am I supposed to give you in return?”

He shrugged but shot you a cheeky grin. “I dunno. Your company?”

Again, you felt your skin start to grow hot and you bit your lip. “Phil, do you always try to charm your friends like this? Or is it just me?” you chuckled.

As he turned into a new street, he hummed as he feigned contemplation. You didn’t realize he was taking your question seriously. He glanced at you through the corner of his eye, “Maybe just the ones I really like.”

At this you blushed and toyed with the straw of your milkshake. He’s joking, maybe flirting to be funny , you thought to yourself. Nonetheless, you considered his offer to visit his home with him. “Fine,” you said in surrender. “I’ll go.”

“Attagirl,” he said cheerfully, his smiling beaming even more now.

“Just dinner, correct? It’s not like you are going to kidnap and murder me, and then have me as your dinner, are you?” you joked with a chuckle, deciding to poke back at the man who didn’t seem to know when to stop with the jests and jokes.

But Phil didn’t laugh back. Instead, he was silent for a few seconds. You thought maybe he didn’t find it funny, offensive even. But your last sentence has brought many ideas in his head, many images that he never thought he could conjure with you. But he decided to join your banter, seeing how your laughter was beginning to nervously die down with his silence.

He leaned in, his lips inching closer to your ear. With the hazy music playing in the background and with you clutching your milkshake tighter, he muttered, “No promises.”

He pulled back and chuckled, especially seeing the way your eyes widened at this. Now your own mind was racing with thoughts and scenarios you would feel embarrassed to share with anyone. You could imagine him devouring you in more ways than one, especially the look in his eyes he’d hold as he consumed you. Before you could submerge yourself into those daydreams, you cleared your throat and fixed a strand of your hair that had fallen near your face.

Silence fell once again between you, only the muffled sound of grainy guitar riffs and solos filling the rest of the short drive back to his house. You struggled to relax. Around Phil, you felt calm, relaxed, like you were at home. But other times like now, Phil fuckin Graves knew how to leave you utterly breathless. It always felt like that, now that you tried to reminisce on your childhood with him. Just when you were in your early teens, you thought you were going through puberty, your hormones making you think and feel things that you normally wouldn’t. Years later, you figured your feelings for him as a teen really didn’t really amount to anything other than small childhood crushes and you making sense of your sexuality for the first time. Yet, years later, here you were in his car crossing your legs nervously and squeezing them when you remembered his gravelly voice against your ear when he muttered, “No promises.”

Looking at him now as he drove, you realized how touch- and love-starved you really were, especially after such a miserable relationship with your ex. It was hard not to gawk at Phil, to study how his hands held onto the wheel as he drove, or to stare at how his arms flexed when he turned his car or shifted gears periodically. How his voice uttered your name so smoothly and how his cologne made you want to breathe him in deeply now that you were around him. It was becoming almost impossible to deny that you were feeling something serious for Phil now even as a grown woman. But you felt that if you admitted this to yourself, you would be in grave danger.

“We’re here,” he said moments before you both hopped out of his car, heading to his house’s front door. You walked in with him, and immediately noticed not much had changed, not even now that his parents had converted the place into an AirBnB rental spot. It still had some of the same white, minimalist furniture that Phil’s mother liked so much, with a sparkling chandelier hanging over the entrance. One thing you did notice was the lack of family portraits. No photos of strangers probably for the sake of whoever was renting the home for a brief stay. Still, you were flooded with memories of swimming in the backyard with Matty and Phil over many summers, of helping his mother bake cookies while he and Matty played video games, and of the time the three of you accidentally shattered one of the family vases with a baseball one day. The three of you had quickly hid the shards far from any place his parents could ever find them.

“Not much has changed,” you noted, while he hummed in agreement. You slipped off your shoes, just as Phil did, while you remembered all of this. He placed his keys on a table and turned to look at you.

“So, you never did mention how long you’re in town for.”

“Hm?” You suddenly remembered that, indeed, you were only here for a brief visit. Phil wanted to laugh seeing how dazed you still seemed around him even after all this time. He held back, however. “Right. Well, I’m not leaving any time soon. I Took my yearly vacation, so I have the next few weeks free from all work while I’m here.” You groaned. “And even if I wanted to, Matty and Elaine will have my head if I even try to go near my work laptop.”

He nods as he hums in thought. It felt like he was going to say something, but remained silent.

He slipped off his leather jacket he had worn this whole time. Your eyes trailed over him as he did. You couldn’t help but admit how his back’s muscles rippled as he did this, how his biceps muscles flexed through the shirt he was wearing as he bent his shoulders back to get the jacket off it. Was your staring too obvious? Was it obvious you were daydreaming of the many different ways you would hold onto his shoulders, arms, and back? You breathed out sharply and tore your eyes away.

When he finished hanging his jacket, he turned and looked at you. You both strolled to the kitchen, where the silver, shining appliances and marble counters reminded you of Phil’s father’s wealth once again. Despite how empty and sterile parts of the home now seemed, Phil seemed calmer here, his smile still warm but more relaxed and maybe less mischievous. “Did you want something to drink? Coffee? Tea?”

“Oof,” you said, “I just had that milkshake, so, um, maybe just some water to help it go down. I don’t want to have something that’ll make my stomach upset or something, you know?” you squeaked out. You didn’t know if it was because it was just you and Phil now, no passerbyers at the restaurant or anything, or because of how big his house was. But you felt small. You felt like shrinking yourself. Maybe it was a stupid idea to come here alone with Phil, you chastised yourself , especially since I’ve been acting so weird around him already today. But you glanced back up at Phil’s reassuring, calm smile with his same caring eyes he always shone at you. You felt some relief and calmness from that.

“I do need to use the bathroom, though,” you said. “Just to wash up.”

“There’s the one attached to my room upstairs, since the AirBnB guests don’t use it.” As he spoke, he grabbed one of the expensive glass bottles of flavored water from the fridge. Even though your parents were also well-off in their own way, his family’s wealth was on a different level, one that managed to still baffle you. “Oh and I should add that my room is upstairs, just to the left as you climb. But you already know that.” He started pouring the glasses. “Just go on up, I’ll be right there.”

You left Phil in the kitchen as he continued to pull glasses from the cabinets. As you climbed the stairs, you noticed how the varnish on the wooden rail had worn from years of his family’s use. You couldn’t help but remember all the times you gripped and slid your hand down it when you dashed down the stairs, the promise of football or a relaxing drive with Matty and Phil waiting for you outside. So much had changed. The house was dimmer and quieter now than in those days. But the memories still lingered like wisps of smoke, especially once you reached the second floor.

The bathroom was unchanged. All you noticed once you used it was how flushed your cheeks were, a little bead of sweat tempting to form near your hairline. Was it from the Texas heat having an effect on you after living up North for so long, or was it because of how Phil made you feel under his gaze this afternoon? You decided to splash some water on your face after washing your hands. Maybe you should pass Phil’s offer for some drinks instead grab a cold water before you pass out in his home.

You were about to head back down the stairs to do just that. But instead you noticed how the door to one of the rooms was left ajar. You peeked inside curiously, expecting it to be a sterile, bland room you would find in any AirBnB. It was dim, the blinds shut securely, but you were still hit with a flash of nostalgia when you saw that his blue comforter and sheets in his bed were the same as the last time you were here. You were still barely a teen, just a few weeks before Phil departed for the Marine Corps without a word. Matty and him were sitting in the very same room, some slightly trashy MTV show playing low in the background while the two of them were planning to go to GameStop in a few minutes.

Memories of that evening inundated your senses as you mindlessly stepped inside. The posters once splayed on his wall, now years later, were stripped from them. His TV with his Xbox no longer were there—you figured his parents sold both when he left for boot camp. Yet, his bed was no longer the messy pile of blankets. Instead, it was neat. The corners were tucked in sharply, and the blankets were spread as cleanly as possible so that you could practically bounce a coin on them without a problem. Yes, this was Phil’s room, the same one from years ago. Yet, the man who made the bed was not the seventeen-year-old, still immature boy you sometimes ogled at from afar. Things had changed, even if memories still clung to your mind.

You floated over to his desk near the window, only a picture frame and a lamp sitting simply on it. You reached down, taking the photo frame in your hands . You brought it closer to your eyes, feeling your heart skip a beat at the photo.

It was you, Matty, and Phil, of course. You had clearly taken it with an old disposable camera—you remembered you’d bought it at the drugstore. The flash made the skin on everyone’s face shine oddly, and even one of Matty’s eyes turned out red. Both of them had more flesh on their baby cheeks. Matty stood next to you, holding a football; his other hand held onto your forearm gently. He was always worried about you leaving his sight. On the other side of you was Phil, his hand resting on the top of your head, the other nestled gently on your shoulder. You could tell from the flyaways and frizz framing his hand that he had just ruffled your head full of hair, a usual trademark of his when he hung out with you. Meanwhile, you shined with a toothy grin, your eyes squinting a little at the exposure of the camera’s harsh flash hitting you all.

“That’s my favorite picture of us, you know.”

You gasped at the sudden intrusion. Whipping around, you saw Phil standing just a few steps away from you. Relieved at seeing it was just him, the frame still in your hand. Slowly, he inched toward you with just a few steps. How long was he there? How long were you there, just snooping through his childhood bedroom? You were perplexed as to how you didn’t even notice him stepping into the room from the hall, or feel his form lingering just a few meters away from your own oblivious one.

You felt a little nervous, embarrassed at being caught in his room. You glanced back down at the picture, noticing that he actually did take the time to encase it in a black metal frame. Even if it was just a somewhat crappy, overexposed photo you took as a little girl—he still took the time to find the right size frame for it. You had so many similar, amateurish photos from back in the day sitting—perhaps “rotting” is the best word for it—in a scrapbook somewhere in the back of your closet in Seattle. Maybe you would revisit them when you got back home… especially when you would have to pack all your things to move out and abandon Richard’s lease.

You cracked a smile as a finger ran across the photo, brushing a few specks of old dust away. “Yeah, it’s one of my favorites too. I still remember that day a little.”

Phil stepped closer to you nonchalantly, a hand of his reaching out to touch the frame too. A this, he noticed how you stiffened just a bit. He glanced up from the frame to look closer at you. When your eyes met, he noticed how yours widened ever more slightly before you gulped. His eyes couldn’t help but notice how your throat moved. His thoughts began to wander. He blinked quickly, trying to banish the images and ideas that had formed cross currents in his mind, before his eyes returned to yours. They scanned your face slowly, like a student observing every detail and brushstroke on a painting’s canvas hanging on a museum’s walls. His hand encroached yours on the picture frame, his warm fingers making contact with your hand. They barely grazed yours, but it was enough for your heart to speed up and for it to feel as though your fingers were now tingling.

You noticed then how his eyes strayed from yours, traveling lower. They landed on your lips, you could tell without a doubt, making you hold your breath silently. Phil noticed how pink and plush they looked. He had been admiring your beauty, realizing just how alluring you’d become in a span of years. He wanted nothing more than to lean down and taste your lips, to draw your body closer and to envelop it in his. He couldn’t help himself… he even noticed how you seemed to be relaxing, your eyes fluttering and lips slightly parted. He could swear you were leaning in too.

Yet, you flinched hard when you heard a phone start to ring out of the blue. Phil leaned back slightly with an annoyed sigh. He dug his hand into his pocket to pull out his phone. He steps away once more and answers it, greeting the person with faux amiability. You, meanwhile, took a sharp breath in and loosened your shoulders. Prudently, you placed the frame back on the nightstand, just as you had found it minutes before.

After a “yup” an “of course,” an “Around what time?” and a “I’ll see what if I can,” he hung up the phone. He looked at you with pursed lips before placing both his hands on your upper arms.

“Everything okay?” you gently asked with a quirked eyebrow.

“Don’t worry about it,” he said while wrapping an arm slyly around your waist. You nearly didn’t notice. “Now, didn’t I promise you dinner?”

You sat next to Bear and Matty in the living room of your family’s beach house, wishing you had gotten a better pedicure before this beach trip. The beach house was gorgeous, of course, just as you remember. The sofa was turquoise and the sound of the distant waves crashing onto the shore would be soothing you if it weren’t for your father sitting across from you with a grave look etched on his face. This was Elaine and Matty’s idea to mend the latest strains in your family ever since you rejected Richard’s “surprise” proposal. A few days at the beach by the Texas coast could heal your family’s freshly formed wounds, they figured.

As much as you sometimes detested Houston, you wanted to stay. First, you didn’t have a bathing suit from Seattle packed for a beach trip. Second, you had to admit that one of the highlights of returning home was rekindling your friendship with Phil. Just two nights before, you had sat down in Phil’s home. You sat at the kitchen island, chatting idly about his life in the military and your time in university. Jokes sprinkled in the conversation kept it lively too, dissipating any awkwardness that might’ve lingered after your short conversation and moment in his bedroom upstairs. His parents’ finest wine and a home-cooked Italian meal filled your bellies while you chatted at the dining table. At one point, you nearly fainted when he did the classic “You got a little in the corner of your lip,” bit that you thought only happened in the movies. And knowing how guileful Phil was, you knew that he knew he had an effect on you and was relishing in it that night.

You almost wanted to ask him for more nights together like that, at least until you both had to part your ways again. That was, until Matty and Elaine called you later that night insisting that you accompany them to this beach trip. “Think of it as a proper celebration of mine and Elaine’s engagement with less… interruptions from our invited guests,” Matty had spelled out for you. You groaned at this, the embarrassment of Richard ruining that night creeping back up inside you. Matty had done so much for you, and you really wanted Elaine to feel a truly warm welcome into your family as your new sister-in-law. Begrudgingly, you agreed, even if it meant that dinner in Phil’s home would be your last you could share with him until God knows when.

You ran your hands along Bear’s thick, albeit graying, mane, while your brother and Elaine gave your mother a hand in the kitchen with the watermelon she was carving and dividing up for later. Your father, meanwhile, averted his gaze from meeting yours. He tapped his foot against the leg of his chair idly, while scrolling through his smartphone. He sipped on his black coffee as he scrolled, while you sipped on a glass of cool water. You couldn’t imagine the news was so interesting that he would suddenly be glued to his phone during a beach trip. Rolling your eyes, you focused on massaging Bear’s ears in the awkward silence of the living room.

“Oh!” Matty suddenly exclaimed. “Finally, he’s at the door.”

You frowned. “The bell didn’t even ring.” Was there even a doorbell in this cabana?

“You messed up the food so bad that you had to order takeout?” your father grumbled, not lifting his head from his phone. You rolled your eyes at his sour comment while you sipped on your water to hide the extent of your frown.

Matty scampered excitedly to the door, his sandals squeaking as he did so. “No, I never said I ordered take out,” he said with a mischievous grin.

Without answering, he opened the door dramatically. “PHIL! You made it!”

You choked on your water. There he stood. You almost didn’t recognize him in the state he was in. Rather than the polo and slacks he wore the other days you met up with him, he wore a simple cotton t-shirt that hugged his body deliciously, as well as some shorts. His hair was slightly disheveled, possibly from the beachside breeze brushing through his locks. Lastly, you noticed how his eyes were covered by a pair of dark shades. His pearly white smile, radiant as ever, was too recognizable.

“Of course, I’m not gonna let you down,” Phil said as he hugged your brother, who took Phil’s bag from him and placed it in one of the bedrooms down the hall.

You, meanwhile, were in shock. You would’ve frozen were it not for the coughing fit the water you choked on caused. Sure, just a few minutes ago you were totally downcast about how any plans—imaginary or real—with Phil in Houston had to be put away due to this beach trip. Yet, you had no clue that your conniving brother had managed to invite the man you were crushing on since you were a kid to this trip.

“Phil—” you choked out. “What are you doing here?”

“Ooh,” he said, grimacing slightly at slight shock, maybe offense, he thought he detected in your voice. He sheepishly scratched his head. “I, well—I uhh-” Phil didn’t have anything to use as an excuse, he didn’t know why he thought of making excuses to begin with.

You swore you could hear your brother snickering quietly, as he returned from putting Phil’s bag away.

“It was actually my idea!” Elaine chimed in calmly as she sauntered in from the kitchen, too. “The fish tacos are turning out fantastic by the way. I highly recommend it.”

“I wasn’t sure if I was gonna come to be honest.” He crossed his arms, and continued. “But Elaine here insisted very kindly so I said—why not.” he finishes with his signature grin.

You wanted nothing more than to strangle your brother. Yes, you had to admit seeing Phil here was a pleasant surprise, especially with how he looked in that shirt that you couldn’t stop your eyes from darting to. But you could swear on your life that he and Elaine were scheming this ever since that day. Of course, you had no proof of that, but you knew how cunning your brother could be. And Elaine? It seemed like they were starting to make more sense together as a couple with how devious she could be too.

Elaine continued. “Your mom was totally okay with it too… and we could use a third party to join us to clear the, you know, the awkward fog that is hanging in the air… which clearly she was right about.” Matty and her both stole a glance toward your father who sat now with his arms crossed. You noticed, however, that he had placed his phone on the coffee table moments ago. He was now actually glancing at the three of you, the frown on his wrinkled face a little softer.

“Phillip, it’s good to see you as always,” he said curtly with a nod. “Let me see what’s taking so long in the kitchen. I’m starved.”

Your brother and Elaine trailed after him. “It’s really not going to take much longer,” Matty said in annoyance. “We have some fruits ready to eat as well if you’re really that hungry…”

With that, it was just you and Phil standing alone in the living room once again, save for Bear. The German Shepherd got up from the sofa and padded over to Phil. He jumped up, his two front paws landing and holding onto Phil’s hips. “Hey, buddy,” he cooed to the dog. “I missed you too, Bear.”

Once Bear landed back on the floor, Phil returned his attention to you. He stepped closer to you, you glanced around, realizing and relieved that neither your parents nor Matty and Elaine have returned from discussing lunch in the kitchen.

He placed a heavy hand on your shoulder, part of his hand just grazing part of your neck for a few moments as he did so. Once again, his eyes scanned over you, from head to toe. Anyone else whom he would’ve studied so intensely would have been shaking, but he noticed you stood , your eyes not leaving his. He noticed how your chest rose and fell with each breath a little more rapidly than before. Seeing how you looked up at him, wordlessly, with your soft doe eyes he felt his heart flutter in his own chest as well.

You put down your glass of water, clearing your throat one last time. “Make yourself at home, Phil. I’ll see you at dinner.” You smiled sheepishly, patting his hand on your shoulder before gently guiding it off you. And with that, you turned around, and tried to scurry to your room.

You woke up from a nap you didn’t remember deciding to take. Rubbing your eyes and feeling a headache creep into your skull, you got up from your bed in your room in the cabana to find some water. The heat of the Texas summer was getting to you, and you kept forgetting to hydrate. Your mom would scold you for that if you found out.

When you dragged your feet over to the cabana’s kitchen, you were surprised to see your parents, Matty, Elaine, and Phil also sitting in the living room together. Your mom was reading a magazine, your father a thick, hardcover biography of what was probably an unfamiliar nineteenth-century politician. Your brother, Elaine, and Phil sat around the coffee table on the floor. On it, was a messy, nearly scattered, stack of UNO cards, and each of them held small decks in their hand.

“Oh, [Y/N], you slept through dinner,” your mother said when she noticed you walking in. “We saved you a plate covered in the kitchen. You can bring it here and join us if you’d like.”

You furrowed your brow, “What time is it?”

“9 p.m.,” your father huffed, his eyes not leaving the dense book in his hands.

Your eyes widened, but you could feel your stomach rumbling as you could hear Elaine bickering with Matty about whether they should be stacking the cards they’re playing. You decided to take your mother up on her idea and carried the plate of dinner with you back to the living room after warming it up briefly in the microwave.

Phil smiled briefly at you as you sat beside him on the floor. You watched as the three of them played another round, Phil shrugging and accepting defeat when Matty managed to beat him and Elaine. You munched on the tacos for the next several rounds. Phil let you glance over his shoulder to peer at what cards he had in his deck. Whenever he made a shrewd play, he would look over at you with a glint in his eyes to see how you reacted. Seeing you breathe in sharply, impressed with one of his plays, made Phil’s chest swell in a form of pride.

After you finished your dinner, you noticed that your mom and dad were yawning among themselves before heading back to their room. Your dad’s coffee didn’t seem to have helped him stay up as long as he’d hoped. You glanced down at your watch, seeing it was almost 10pm You thought that maybe you should head back to your room to wash up.

“Oh, no. You have to join us for a few rounds,” Elaine exclaimed as she shuffled the deck. “Just for one or two. Then you can go.”

“Yeah, remember we used to play all the time with Phil?” Your brother chirped. “You always were close to beating us.”

At this you remembered indeed staying up at night during various thunderstorms and low-category hurricanes at Phil’s house when you were barely 7 or 8. Your parents, meanwhile, would usually be with Phil sharing wine downstairs discussing local politics and stocks. The windows in Phil’s bedroom would be covered with metallic shutters. The electricity and Phil’s bedroom light would have flickered and cut out hours before from Houston’s strong winds and rains. You, him, and Matty huddled in his bedroom with a flightlight weakly illuminating where the three of you sat. The sound of the howling winds, sounding almost like ghosts, would usually send chills down your spine. The thunder crashing would make you flinch.

But in the company of Matty and Phil, you would forget about the howling. By the lantern, you played Go Fish, Uno, and even Monopoly. Knowing you were scared of the thunder, Phil had the habit of draping you with one of his blankets. When thunder clapped or lightning flashed, he distracted you with the cards. Cards, something you almost never play now as an adult, was still something that you remembered fondly. Even as you got older, before Phil left for the Marines, you remembered seeing Phil go through his nightstand’s drawer to find his deck of cards if it looked like the lights might go out again.

Memories still swirling in your mind faintly, you felt Phil shift beside you slightly. His shoulder lightly grazed yours and you felt a warm feeling blossom in your chest. You brought your hands to your face, fingers touching your cheeks, as you felt them grow warm too. You glanced at Phil tentatively and saw that he also was looking at you in anticipation for you to join in.

You sighed in faux defeat, “Alright maybe one round. Then I’m heading back to bed.”

Next thing you knew, several rounds had passed. More than a decade after having last played against Phil and Matty, you finally managed to win. Elaine won most of the rounds, however. She teased him several times by stealing very obviously glances at his hand, making Matty dramatically call for a rematch or to disqualify Elaine. Witnessing this kind of back-and-forth bantering normally would make you feel like an awkward third wheel. But, thankfully, Phil was there to crack jokes with you about how their bickering felt like a strange sneak-peek into their future lives as a married couple.

After a few rounds, you decided to take another break and watch. You got comfortable laying down on your side on the velvety sofa behind Phil. Knowing you were behind him, Phil also felt it was hard to hide his grin, especially when he could feel you shifting and breathing while he played. After a while, he could almost hear how your breathing slowed and you seemed to sink, more relaxed, into the cushions of the sofa. He glanced back behind you, noticing your eyes were closed and how you nestled your head into the pillow shams in the shape of a beach palm tree. The corner of his mouth twitched into a soft smile at the sight.

Your brother stretched his arms above his head and yawned, while Elaine gathered all the discarded cards and shoved them back into the main deck. “I think we’re gonna start winding down now,” Matty mumbled out. “I can’t believe it’s almost one in the morning.”

Phil checked his watch, the same watch his father gave him many years before. “Oh, shoot. Time sure flew by.”

Matty and Elaine got up. “Well, we’ll see you tomorrow morning, Phil. Hope you can get some rest,” Elaine said.

“G’night!” Matty said, his eyes noticeably growing heavier. Phil waved them goodbye with a polite smile, wishing them a good night’s rest as well.

Phil stared at them, slightly bemused, as they shuffled away from the living room toward their shared bedroom. He was shocked they didn’t bother to wake you up so you could go to your room. He turned around, noticing you were still sound asleep. He peered down, not sure how best to wake you. For a few moments, he just studied your features. At times, when you breathed out slowly it sounded like a soft, almost airy snore. Your brows were knitted, as if you were in deep concentration in whatever images were flickering in your dreams.

Sometimes, Phil found he was still in denial of how much you had grown—how much you had changed . Of course, he still felt the same protective affection toward you, much like Matty did as your older brother. But along with that affection, he also felt new things that he couldn’t quite nail down. Sometimes, he wanted to curse himself for staring at how your hips moved when you walked or how your clothes hugged your body. When he saw that Richard was your partner, he even felt some jealousy bleeding into his thoughts. He brushed off those thoughts as him just being a man—and a brutish one at that sometimes. Still, other times he found himself growing anxious over you. He thought, yes, it was obvious you’d grown so much, but you still were better fitted with someone who understood you better, someone who would protect you rather than talk down to you, unlike Richard. He felt this inexplicable instinct to simply bring you closer to him, whether it meant embracing you in his arms, to weave his fingers with yours, to never stop talking to you or observing every one of your little movements and quirks. How he wanted to flee from his hometown of Houston during his vacation time if he meant he got to spend more time with you—and yes, your family, but especially you—at this beach house.

Phil shook himself out of his thoughts. He glanced again at the watch on his wrist and told himself it really was getting late, and he didn’t want to end up sleeping in tomorrow if he was here as a guest. But he also didn’t know what to do with your sleeping form on the sofa. He didn’t want to wake you with how deep in slumber you seemed to be.

Without thinking twice, he strode over to his guest room. He saw that he had about three blankets neatly folded on top of his bed. He snatched one and returned quickly to the living room to find you still there. Carefully, he draped the fuzzy blanket over your form, making sure it covered your shoulders and feet just right. You started to move, making him freeze where he stood. But his muscles relaxed in relief when he saw that you were only snuggling into the blanket more. Your brows were slightly furrowed before, but now they relaxed and you seemed truly at rest. Good . You at least seemed comfortable.

He turned around and headed to the lightswitch. He admired your sleeping form one last time, before deciding that he too was also exhausted, especially after a day of travel. He flicked it off, and headed back to his room.

#cod x reader #phillip graves x reader #cod fanfic #phillip graves fanfic #phillip graves x you #phil graves x you #phil graves x reader #graves x reader #Authors Has Played Call of Duty #again sorry for the late update!!!!!#hope yall enjoy it!!!

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rosethornewrites · 1 month ago

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Fic: the thread may stretch or tangle but it will never break, ch. 31

Additional Tags: Pre-Slash, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Secrets, Crying, Masks, Soulmates, Truth, Self-Esteem Issues, Regret, It was supposed to be a one-shot, Fix-It, Eventual Relationships, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, wwx needs a hug, Nightmares, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Filial Piety, Handfasting, Phobias, Sleeping Together, Fear, Panic Attacks, Love Confessions, Getting Together, First Kiss, Kissing, Boys Kissing, Family, and they were married, Bathing/Washing, Hair Braiding, Hair Brushing, Feels, Sex Education, Implied Sexual Content, First Time, Aftercare, Morning After, Afterglow, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Implied/Referenced Torture, Scars, Eventual Happy Ending, Hand Jobs, Chronic Pain, Biting, Conversations, Self-Sacrifice, POV Third Person, POV Lan WangJi, Bugs & Insects, Adoption, Ancestors, Ancestor Veneration, Golden Core Reveal, Top Lan Wangji | Lan Zhan/Bottom Wei Wuxian | Wei Ying, First Time Blow Jobs, Multiple Orgasms, Switching, sex-related injury, Lán Zhàn | Lán Wàngjī Stays at the Burial Mounds, Lán Yuàn | Lán Sīzhuī is a Wèi, Good Sibling Jiāng Chéng | Jiāng Wǎnyín, Dissociation, Burial Mounds Settlement Days, Disability, Scheming Niè Huáisāng, Disabled Character, somnophilia

Summary: The Jiang leave, and the Lan and the Nie visit.

Notes: See end of each chapter

AO3 link

Chapters: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17 | 18 | 19 | 20 | 21 | 22 | 23 | 24 | 25-6 | 27 | 28 | 29 | 30

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The morning is a tumult of preparation that ends with them seeing off all the children except for A-Yuan and A-Zhi, and several Wei, all seated in carriages Min Cenxi hired after breakfast.

At breakfast they finally asked A-Zhi if he wanted to go to Lotus Pier ahead of them or stay, and he immediately said he wanted to stay. During the loading of the carriages, he is extra clingy as though concerned he might be sent against his will. Lan Wangji wonders if he should address it with the boy or if the fact that they followed his wishes is enough reassurance. He decides to ask Wei Ying about it later, instead, letting the boy cling as he wishes.

Jiang Wanyin even rides in one of the carriages, A-Fang still refusing to be separated from him and her brother refusing to be separated from her. Though slower than flying, the carriage is preferable to flying with nervous children.

The days following bring two new children, but no more rogue cultivators. On the fourth day, Xiongzhang arrives with a small number of senior disciples to practice ‘Inquiry’—Shufu isn’t among them.

Xiongzhang looks concerned, which tells Lan Wangji he heard of at least the first attack, and they quickly discover he didn’t know of the second, for his expression is soon appalled.

“Jiang Cheng took the first load of kids home,” Wei Ying tells him. “They had to rent carriages to take them all.”

“Which may alert the Jins,” Xiongzhang says with a sigh. “With the bounty, they’re crossing a line. Wuxian is no longer being simply outcast, but pursued. I’ve heard nothing from A-Yao, so I have no insight, but would it not be safer to rent more carriages and evacuate to Lotus Pier?”

Wei Ying shakes his head, looking regretful.

“Not with the Seal still intact, unfortunately—I need to destroy it before I can go to Lotus Pier or they will be targeted to try to get the Seal. I don’t want to be the reason for an attack on Lotus Pier.”

He can almost hear the “again,” and knows that’s something that will need to be addressed at some point, as it hurts Wei Ying.

Lan Wangji has watched his husband try to devise a way to destroy it, but each plan includes the inevitability of a dangerous backlash that could kill him, leading both Lan Wangji and Wei Qing to veto them.

“Plus we have all these kids coming here. I’d have to ask Nie-xiong to change the yuefu to send them to Lotus Pier.”

“I will search the library at the Cloud Recesses to see if I can find any texts that may offer a solution to the seal,” Xiongzhang kindly offers, to Wei Ying’s happy surprise. “I will leave you to speak with Nie Huaisang.”

Xiongzhang is thrilled to meet the newest Wei, A-Zhi, who in turn is excited to meet another uncle.

“I can have two?” the boy says in surprise, and Lan Wangji realizes he missed their discussion about uncles with A-Yuan.

Fortunately, A-Yuan is only happy to tell him about all their uncles.

“Ning-shushu, too,” A-Yuan finishes, having already listed Nie Mingjue and Nie Huaisang to add to Jiang Wanyin and Xiongzhang.

A-Zhi is overcome by the amount of family he has, and requires cuddles to calm down a little.

“A-Zhi was just A-Zhi,” he tells them. “But now A-Zhi has Baba and A-Die, and Bobo and, and everyone!”

“A-Zhi isn’t alone anymore,” Wei Ying says, patting the boy’s back, wholly prepared for the tears, watching him too knowingly, and Lan Wangji knows he is thinking of his own losses at a young age, seeing himself in A-Zhi.

Xiongzhang chooses that moment to bring out the toys he brought, originally for A-Yuan, but now for both his nephews, and the distraction stops the tears.

The Lan disciples perform ‘Inquiry’ one at a time, while others note the location of remains, names, final wishes, and any other relevant information for the spirits of the Burial Mounds on paper, then go out into one of the uncleansed areas to play cleansing songs. The effort leaves the areas with less resentment, and after the evening meal Lan Xichen comments on the success of their mission, with multiple spirits put to rest.

“I wi-will look for the remains overnight,” Wei Ning says, “so we may put more to—to rest.”

There are seven sets of remains to find and perform proper ceremonies for, and Wei Ying comments that sometimes even the spirits around the ceremonies are freed, not simply the spirit of the one body.

“Honestly, this will put a bigger dent in the spirits than you know. Sometimes something that small can appease them, especially the weaker ones who no longer remember why they resent.”

Lan Xichen is intrigued by this.

“I wonder if some larger ceremony might aid the process…” and then he and Wei Ying start to discuss the logistics of such a possibility.

The Lan camp on the floor of the great hall, underneath the bunting from the brotherhood ceremony, and in the morning they practice ‘Inquiry’ again, leaving a sheaf of papers to go through to finish the job of putting the spirits to rest.

Lan Wangji sees his brother off with Wei Ying and Wei Qing, and they find two children waiting for them at the base of the mountain as well.

“Mingjue will likely visit next,” Xiongzhang tells them before he mounts his sword and disappears into the distance with the rest of the Lan disciples.

The two boys know their surnames, neither of which is Wen, and Wei Ying lets them know they can be adopted as Wei or Jiang if they wish, but it’s not a requirement. The children are approached by an auntie with new clothing and the promise of a nice lunch after they change, and they happily follow her.

“I’m glad you’re untangling my notes,” Wei Ying comments again as they head to the cave so he can work. “It’s made it easier to focus on each idea individually. I can tell which ones are for the Seal.”

It is close to a thank you, and Lan Wangji acknowledges it with “Mn.”

A-Yuan and A-Zhi attach themselves to their legs briefly just outside the cave, but run off to meet the newest arrivals as soon as they hear of them, excited by the prospect of new playmates with whom to share their toys, leaving Wei Ying and Lan Wangji to their original plan of going through more of his notes.

Wei Qing meets them inside the cave.

“The Seal is a priority, but for now it can wait. We didn’t do your musical acupuncture regularly while we had guests, and I suspect we’re up for more. Keeping up with your health is my priority, and more pressing at the moment.”

They had been distracted by Xiongzhang’s visit, among other things, and had missed a session while Wei Ying paid attention to how the resentful spirits interacted with ‘Inquiry,’ utterly fascinated. So Wei Ying acquiesces, and Lan Wangji spends the next half-shichen playing songs of healing over Wei Qing’s needles.

After, while Wei Ying is sleeping, Lan Wangji works on untangling more of his notes alone, finding one section that discusses destroying the Seal, unfinished but promising to his inexperienced eye. He is a novice when it comes to Wei Ying’s chaotic creativity, and certainly cannot extend the theories further. He sets that copied segment at the top of his pile of notes for Wei Ying to organize and work with later.

Eventually A-Yuan and A-Zhi come to announce lunch is ready, and Lan Wangji wakes his husband, and the rest of the day passes without incident.

Luo Qingyang is able to go to town to pick up herbs for Wei Qing, with no sign of rogue cultivators, and two days later, the Nie arrive.

They bring with them three Wen women liberated from brothels, along with several street children from Qinghe. Wei Qing immediately takes the women to her alcove for medical attention, and an auntie handles the children.

Nie Huaisang is in a rare form of fury that seems to make Nie Mingjue smile, with hissed pettiness about Jin Guangshan ruining all his plans.

“We can’t change the yuefu to send kids to Lotus Pier yet or he’ll know that’s where you plan to go,” Nie Huaisang ranted. “At this point, with the sworn siblinghood, you could go to Gusu or Qinghe, too, so he doesn’t even know you’re going anywhere right now. That’s how we can smuggle the Wei there.”

He’s not wrong, in that so many people are coming into and out of the Burial Mounds that the only noticeable movement to anyone who might be spying on them was the carriages, which Nie Huaisang understood but wasn’t happy about.

“At least those kids are safely at Lotus Pier,” he allows.

A-Yuan interrupts them so A-Zhi can meet his bofu and erbo. His eyes widen when he sees Nie Mingjue.

“So big,” he whispers to A-Yuan in a stage whisper.

“Mn, Bofu is really big! And strong! And Erbo is pretty and likes fans.”

Nie Huaisang, snit over, gifts A-Zhi a fan, which he holds like it’s made of gold, and Nie Mingjue lifts both boys onto his shoulders and lets them climb on him. The boys are entertained for some time, and then A-Zhi decides he wants to show Popo his new fan, so they rush off to do so like little whirlwinds.

“A-Zhi was the first child to come to Burial Mounds,” Wei Ying says when they’ve left. “He asked if we could be his baba and diedie.”

“Some of the rest have discovered lost family here,” Lan Wangji adds delicately, knowing the others will catch his meaning.

“Wen children?” Nie Huaisang murmurs thoughtfully. “At least A-Yuan wasn’t really the last.”

“Many of them have tragic stories,” Lan Wangji says. “Their parents did not survive, as far as we know, rounded up by the Jin.”

They all know it’s unlikely they survived, though perhaps among those Nie Huaisang liberates there will be a mother for one of the children.

“Plus the yuefu brought a woman fleeing her abusive husband with her kids,” Wei Ying comments. “So more than children are coming. If any Wen are hiding among the populace, they may come, too.”

“That’s the hope,” Nie Mingjue says. “Your image is rehabilitated, at least somewhat. She trusted you more than her husband.”

“I think she knew I’d scare her husband and keep her safe. I adopted her and her kids, and she’s at Lotus Pier now. Her kids call me Wei-jiujiu.”

The conversation continues on the subject of their young refugees for some time, until Nie Mingjue takes his disciples on a night hunt in one of the warded areas of the Burial Mounds, leaving them to discuss the success of the yuefu. The bright side, Nie Huaisang insists, is that the public now has a more favorable view of Wei Ying, the Auspicious Eight taking hold of the imaginations of the peasants.

“I hoped it would take longer for Jin Guangshan to act,” Nie Huaisang says with a sigh. “Though I guess there’s no telling whether it’s related to the yuefu.”

“Maybe he’s just pissed that I’m now his son’s sworn brother,” Wei Ying comments. “Given rumors of how he treats his son’s other siblings, I’m not surprised he put a price on our heads.”

Nie Huaisang laughs, shaking his head.

“Honestly, I feel sorry for Jin Guangyao, but not if he’s helping his father try to hurt you. Sending rogue cultivators after you is too much.”

“Killing Wen civilians was too much,” Lan Wangji says. “All else is beyond the pale, relying on power to intimidate.”

“That’s what the yuefu and Auspicious Eight are about—removing that power,” Nie Huaisang murmurs, clearly irritated that it wasn’t enough.

“Unfortunately, he’s unpredictable when his power is threatened,” Wei Ying says grimly. “In this case, turning me into a night hunt.”

Wei Ning shuffles in with plates of shaobing, and Nie Huaisang removes a sheaf of papers from his sleeve, spreading them on a table.

“I want to add the injustice you’re facing from Jin Guangshan, including the price he’s placed on your head,” Nie Huaisang says. ”It makes for good tension and will hopefully shift the people against the Jin.”

“You’re sure you can add to it easily?” Wei Ying asks, his voice skeptical.

Nie Huaisang waves his fan dismissively.

“I’ll send the new one to the tea houses where I sent the first one—it’ll just be a few added lines, I think.”

“Wei Ying has faced injustice through rumors and slander. I agree adding to the yuefu is necessary,” Lan Wangji cuts in.

“M-me too,” Wei Ning says. “We can’t even go to town, except Luo-guniang, and Jiejie can’t treat her patients easily.”

They sit down to find a place or places to add to the yuefu, and Lan Wangji pushes one of the plates of shaobing toward Wei Ying, pointedly to remind him to eat. He’s still not recovered his weight, though he’s much better than he was when Lan Wangji first arrived at the Burial Mounds.

“It should come after the kids,” Wei Ying says after taking a bite and making an appreciative noise at the discovery of meat. “And should probably mention that one kid was held hostage by a rogue cultivator.”

“What happened to the cultivator?” Nie Huaisang asked, his tone dangerous.

“Sent to Lotus Pier for Jiang Wanyin to handle,” Lan Wangji assures him, and receives a satisfied smile for the answer.

“Jiang-di will handle it appropriately, and put the fear of heaven into them. Punishment by lightning and the three poisons.”

None of them have asked Jiang Wanyin his plans for handling the rogue cultivators, and Lan Wangji suspects Wei Ying doesn’t want to know. He doesn’t need that on his conscience; he’s too good. Lan Wangji is not, though for Wei Ying’s sake he tries.

They munch on shaobing and work on the additional lines for the yuefu, keeping busy while the others night hunt, much as they did on the last visit by Chifeng-Zun and Nie Huaisang. The added lines are scattered throughout the yuefu instead of all in one place, so it takes more reworking than expected.

By the time the Nie return, Nie Mingjue grinning widely, satisfied with the results of the night hunt, they’ve finished and it is nearly time for the evening meal. The atmosphere is festive, with the Nie mingling with the Wei, and all celebrating the success of the night hunt, which cleared out a significant number of yao, making the Burial Mounds just a little bit safer.

The newer denizens of the Burial Mounds, the women and children, seem to settle in well at dinner, able to eat as much as they desire, and with good company. The women are grateful to the Nie for their rescue, and to Wei Qing for their treatment. Wei Ying introduces himself to each of them and lets them know he will do an adoption ceremony so they can take his name. The children he lets know they have a choice—they can keep their names if they know them, or they can take the Wei or Jiang name.

“We’ll hold the ceremony in the coming days,” Wei Ying tells them.

The meal is hearty, added to by a gifted qiankun pouch of meat, which thrills A-Yuan, meat having been scarce not too long ago. Their guests are well-liked among the Wei, who not too long ago were afraid of Nie Mingjue, but no longer. Popo even pats his cheek and thanks him for his hard work, and Chifeng-Zun can only smile at her graciousness. The hall buzzes with conversation.

“The Burial Mounds have many yao to hunt,” Nie Mingjue comments. “We will definitely return to night hunt more often.”

“Eventually I hope to cleanse this place,” Wei Ying says, “so you’re welcome to it.”

“A worthy goal, and one I hope we can help with.”

Wei Ying smiles at him.

“You’ve already started making this place safer. Sometimes energies break through the wards, so you’re doing us a huge favor.”

“There are no favors among family, Didi,” Nie Huaisang insists. “Our help has no price.”

Wei Ying ducks his head, and Lan Wangji grasps his hand under the table, squeezing gently. He knows Wei Ying was raised to think about favors as debts, and this is a good way to start changing his way of thinking.

Nie Huaisang insists on reading the new lines to a captive audience, and receives applause from the gathered refugees and the Nie, to his obvious delight.

After dinner, one of the uncles brings out some liquor, which Wei Qing bans Wei Ying from imbibing, but Chifeng-Zun and the other Nie are happy to settle in and drink with the uncles. The aunties round the children up for bed, and A-Yuan and A-Zhi snuggle in Lan Wangji and Wei Ying’s laps until Popo comes for them, ready to take them off for a bath and sleep.

Wei Ying looks exhausted after such a busy day, so Lan Wangji says their farewells, pulling him toward their cave, and they’re handed several items by Wei Ning on their way out, including a sachet for his bath and a balm for Lan Wangji to use on his back.

Sex is fumbling handjobs, Wei Ying too exhausted for much more, and he nearly falls asleep in the bath afterwards. He does fall deeply asleep while Lan Wangji applies the balm, so much so that he doesn’t bother to try to dress him in zhong yi shirt and robes, just joins him in his trousers only to sleep, reveling in the sense of skin against skin contact.

The next morning, after breakfast, brings another Nie night hunt in the depths of the Burial Mounds, while Nie Huaisang runs the new lines by the rest of them in the light of a new day. This doesn’t take very long, and leaves them to have a snack of osmanthus cakes and tea while just passing time in idle enjoyment.

Of course, just when they’ve relaxed, Wei Ying and Wei Ning both stand suddenly, the wards indicating a visitor. Wei Qing leads the way down the path to the entrance, holding her needles at the ready.

Standing near the wards, a child in his arms, is a figure in white, his eyes covered by a slender band of white cloth. Lan Wangji is struck by recognition.

“Xiao Xingchen,” Wei Ying whispers, his voice full of emotion that is easy to parse, uncertainty at the fore, as though preparing himself for heartbreak.

After all, Xiao Xingchen, Wei Ying’s own shishu, could view him as a threat to be removed.

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I changed Nie Huaisang to erbo here, as he’s older than Wei Wuxian. I fixed it in earlier chapters, too.

Sorry I’m not actually writing the yuefu.

baba = dad

bobo = father’s elder brother

bofu = father’s elder brother, elder uncle

di/didi = younger brother

diedie/a-die = dad

erbo = second uncle

popo = grandma

shishu = martial uncle

shushu = father’s younger brother

xiong = brother

xiongzhang = elder brother

yuefu = a style of narrative poetry that basically borrows from Chinese folk song traditions. The Ballad of Mulan is an example.

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badbatchposts · 9 months ago

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Quiet Corners of the Galaxy, Ch. 20

Fic Teaser: While on a routine mission for Cid, the Bad Batch encounter a woman fleeing from the Empire. Crosshair suspects her seemingly free-spirited, nomadic existence is actually a cover for something else, but struggles to keep his attraction toward her in check as their personalities and ideals clash.

Relevant tags/content warnings: Crosshair/Original Female Character, Slow Burn, Enemies to Lovers, Periodic Smut, Canon-Typical Violence, Alcohol Use

Read the full fic so far on AO3

Read previous chapters on Tumblr: Ch. 1 l Ch. 2 l Ch. 3 l Ch. 4 l Ch. 5 l Ch. 6 l Ch. 7 l Ch. 8 l Ch. 9 l Ch. 10 l Ch. 11 l Ch. 12 l Ch. 13 l Ch. 14 l Ch. 15 l Ch. 16 l Ch. 17 l Ch. 18 l Ch. 19

Chapter 20 summary: Dara comes to on the Marauder, but her interrogation doesn't go as planned.

When Dara came to with a groan several hours later, the first thing she noticed was the rhythmic whirring of the Marauder’s hyperdrive. The second thing was how unamused Hunter looked.

“Start talking,” the Sergeant growled. She was sure he was used to that expression and tone being intimidating.

Dara said nothing. Instead, she tested the tightness of the binders that held her wrists behind her back and examined her surroundings. The cargo hold, which had served as her bedroom for weeks, was now their interrogation room. They would want to keep her as far away from the nav computer as possible—if they were still planning on going to Rex’s base, they didn’t want her knowing their destination. She wasn’t entirely sure why they would even risk bringing her with them, but the Batch often did things she didn’t wholly understand. In fact, she wasn’t sure why they had let her stick around for so long in the first place. Or why Crosshair had gone out of his way to intervene when the Imperials almost had her.

Speaking of which. Hunter and Tech were the only two in the hold with her, which gave her some relief—if it had been the sniper, she didn’t think an ex-Imperial would have as many qualms about what methods he used to get the information they were looking for.

Especially now that she’d learned the truth about him, that slimy—

“We are aware that you are working with Saw Gerrera,” Tech put forward. Dara remained impassive. She wasn’t sure what had given her away. Maybe Rex had finally remembered her, from when he’d trained them to fight back against the droids all those years ago on Onderon. She had risked a lot on the idea that he would have forgotten her by now, but even back then she had always kept a low profile, merging into the background, never standing out, and their contact had been minimal.

Hunter was now taking his turn. Dara wondered idly if they had practiced who would be good cop and who would be bad cop, or if they had just naturally fallen into their roles.

“We haven’t always seen eye to eye with Saw, but it’s a low blow for him to spy on us. Which means we aren’t feeling very kindly toward his spy. Especially after you shot Wrecker,” the Sergeant threatened darkly.

She rolled her eyes, finally deigning to respond. “It was on stun. He didn’t even go down. I doubt he has so much as a headache. I didn’t have to use stun blasts, you know.”

“I believe you did,” Tech replied. He was far less hostile than his brother, his eyes gleaming with something like intrigue behind his goggles. “Because you wish to be our ally. In fact, we could consider this to be an information exchange. As you are already aware, Rex has been organizing to help free and protect our fellow clones from the Empire. And as we are aware, your own organization likely has intelligence that could aid us in that endeavor.”

Dara clammed up again. Hunter leaned toward her, his eyes deadly. “Or, if you don’t want to talk, we could send Crosshair in here and see how things go then. Your choice. I’ll let you think about it.” The Sergeant exited the cargo hold, closing the door behind him, while Tech remained—to keep watch over her, she supposed.

She doubted Hunter would really let Crosshair do anything to her. Despite what happened with the Jedi, the clones had a code of honor.

Well. Most of them.

They sat in silence for a few moments, Tech working diligently on something on his datapad, before Dara spoke up.

“You shouldn’t be contacting Rex via holo. It’s bad infosec. Too easy to trace.” When she had first seen Rex’s face appear in the Marauder, she hadn’t just been surprised to find he was still alive; for most of their subsequent meeting she had been convinced the Empire was minutes from barging down their door. With the clones inside the warehouse, she had even taken up a position on the roof so that she would be able to warn them the moment any Imperial ships arrived.

Tech glanced at her, scoffing. “Perhaps for your organization. I encrypted and secured all communications for Rex myself.”

“Hmm.” Dara couldn’t help herself from looking a little impressed, and Tech took the opportunity to see if he could press her further.

“You have more stringent security protocols in your group?” he inquired. She didn’t reply, setting her mouth into a stubborn line, so he continued. “We are familiar with your use of the smugglers’ sub-space communications array on Ord Mantell. It is risky to put yourself in a situation where you rely on the discretion of criminals, but I suppose you do not have the capacity to replicate these set-ups on as many planets as would be necessary to make the network viable.”

He was right. It was a dilemma she had agonized and debated over, but ultimately they had decided it was the safest among a litany of risky options for their field agents to check in regularly. And, of course, there were the ways she had devised to make it safer.

The ways she had just ignored in her urgency to discuss the clones with Saw. But they shouldn’t have been able to listen in, not unless they were monitoring everything that passed through the smugglers’ comm network.

Then again, this was Tech. Maybe she shouldn’t put it past him.

When Dara remained silent, Tech shrugged and returned to his datapad, no doubt researching as much about Saw’s group as he could access to help him start filling the gaps. They knew too much already, in her opinion, but they would not be finding out more from her.

A few moments later, Tech peered up at her again. “You should know that, when we arrive, you will be left with Crosshair, as Hunter has stated. I will instruct him not to harm you, but as you are no doubt aware, his attitude toward you is extraordinarily hostile, and has only worsened upon confirming his suspicions. It may be best to speak with me before this occurs.”

Dara narrowed her eyes. Her voice betrayed every ounce of the violence and rage she had been repressing since she learned from Saw that Crosshair had been responsible for the death of her fellow rebel—her friend. Shot point blank, and the civilians she had been evacuating massacred.

“If you leave me alone in a room with that Imperial scum, only one of us is walking out,” she warned.

Behind his goggles, Tech’s eyes softened with sympathy.

“Dara… Crosshair’s actions against your comrades were terrible. But they were not his own. The inhibitor chip in the brain of all clones activated for him. We lost him for a long time. He was controlled, compelled to follow orders. It is very difficult for Crosshair to acknowledge his emotions—but I know he regrets it. I know he is sorry.”

Dara liked Tech, truly. She liked the whole Batch, with one obvious exception. But at that moment, she wanted to knock his lights out. She didn’t want his pity.

She looked away from him, resting her head back against the wall.

“Sorry won’t bring them back.”

***

Dara rotated her neck, trying to relieve the ache in her shoulders from sitting for so long with her wrists bound behind her. With the ship having just powered down upon landing, she was straining her ears to hear any activity out in the hallway that would give her a hint as to the Batch’s plans, but of course they knew better than to discuss them within earshot.

She had known this was a bad idea.

Her last mission had been a bad idea from the very beginning, in fact. Sneaking into an Imperial facility was always a bit of a risk, and going undercover for weeks with no backup ready to extract her if things went south was even worse. But she was used to working alone, and there had been no one else to spare for this operation.

She couldn’t arrive in her own ship either, had to leave it hidden near a spaceport and take a commercial transport to avoid suspicion when she began a position as a clerical worker under the vice-governor of some Force-forsaken desert planet. But she bided her time, familiarized herself with the facility, got the data they were after.

It had all gone fine, up until the moment she’d been caught in the act.

She’d barely made it to the hangar and onto a shuttle, and not without effort or injury. Only to crash-land right into another fever-wasp’s nest, barely getting out of it—surviving only thanks to that kriffing asshole.

She knew she should’ve just hopped on a transport back to her ship when they arrived at Ord Mantell, whether the Empire might have tracked it down or not. It was always pushing it, sticking with them for as long as she did, especially since Crosshair had been suspicious from the very beginning. But she had to lay low for a while anyway, and she thought that if she could recruit them somehow, find the clone network she had been hearing about, they’d mean everything for the cause. They were all good at what they did, she couldn’t deny that.

Even that asshole. If only she’d known he had been Imperial, if she’d known from the beginning what he’d done, she could’ve taken him out and disappeared before this whole thing got out of hand.

Speak of the sand demon—the cargo hold door opened to reveal the sniper, looking, even more than usual, like someone had pissed in his breakfast.

Maybe she’d still get her chance.

Dara schooled her expression into passivity as Crosshair approached. It was not an easy task; in normal circumstances she was a durasteel wall, blank, impossible to read. But her time with the Batch had challenged her. More specifically, he had challenged her, getting better and better at provoking a reaction. And now, she felt her righteous anger seething under every inch of skin as she was faced with him again.

Jolla’s killer. Her friend, gone, at the flash of a blaster. His blaster.

Crosshair’s eyes glittered dangerously, and Dara could imagine him doing it so easily. He was cold.

He was also still so painfully attractive, a small, traitorous part of her reminded. Her heart was beating fast, and she had to suppress a shiver, both reactions that, she insisted to herself, had everything to do with the danger she was in, and nothing to do with the memory of him crowding into her as she perched atop that crate only a rotation earlier. It didn’t matter that she no longer had that sort of reaction when under threat—not since early in the war.

Keep it together, she reminded herself. She could get out of this.

Finally, the sniper spoke. “I knew all along you were trouble, burk’yc.” His voice was a coiled whisper, a rock viper preparing to strike.

Should she rise to the bait or continue with the silent treatment? Dara knew that silence was often the prudent choice in an interrogation, but she had also learned that Crosshair’s presence kept her from acting rationally. In lieu of answer, she strained at her binders, focusing on the way they dug into her wrists, letting the pain ground her.

She was seated against the wall, and Crosshair’s tall, thin frame loomed over her. His gaze raked along her body, lingering for a moment on the binders. He leaned over and tucked one slender finger under her chin, tilting her face up until she met his eyes defiantly.

He smirked. “Although I can’t deny how much I like seeing you bound and at my mercy.”

The roles were reversed so quickly that he didn’t even see how it happened.

While Crosshair was distracted with his gloating—no doubt planning something heinous, Dara thought—she had found her contingency plan tucked behind a loosened panel in the wall behind her: a hidden vibroblade. In a single motion, never breaking eye contact, she had sliced her binders apart, leaping to her feet and pressing the edge to Crosshair’s neck. She backed him against the wall, watching his pupils widen as she allowed the knife to break the skin ever-so-slightly.

“Some of the others in our group think I’m paranoid, you know,” Dara began conversationally. “But it’s not paranoid to always have a back-up plan. Or two. Or three.”

Crosshair got over his momentary shock, glaring at his change in fortune. She could see in his eyes how he immediately set his mind to working at a way out of it, and she knew she had to be careful—he had enough height and weight on her that if she gave an inch, he could easily overpower her.

“Does Saw think that?” he growled. “He must have so little faith in you. Hasn’t he seen how good his little spy is at playing the whore?”

Dara laughed, full-bellied laughed at him. “You can do better than that pathetic attempt at riling me up. But I guess I shouldn’t expect much from Imperial filth.”

The sniper bared his teeth. “I’m not with the Empire.”

Dara leaned even closer. He could feel her hot breath on his face, and the knife stung a bit deeper into his skin. “You did plenty of damage while you were,” she hissed. “Do you even remember any of their faces, or have there been too many to keep track?”

Crosshair broke eye contact, his anger and bravado gone in a pained instant. He had known his actions would catch up with him one day, and now they were finally coming back to haunt him—at knifepoint, no less.

“I remember,” he croaked.

“Do you?” Dara spat out. “Do you remember the elderly? The children? My friend—” She broke off for a moment, took in a shaky breath. “You don’t even know what I’ve lost.”

They were both silent for a moment, breathing heavily, before Dara gained control over her grief and resumed her venomous tirade. “You’re not going to defend yourself, then? Blame it all on the chip, maybe? Say how sorry you are? Beg for your life?”

The sniper’s amber eyes snapped back to hers, and she immediately wished they hadn’t. She recognized the ache in them too easily.

“Go ahead and kill me,” Crosshair stated plainly. His gravelly voice began as a whisper, but gained in strength as he continued. “On Onderon it was the chip. But I still…deserve it. I did the same thing to plenty more…even after I had the chip out.”

This sudden admission had thrown Dara off, but Crosshair was no longer aiming to catch her by surprise or wriggle out of the situation. He had avoided thinking about it for so long, but now the floodgates were open, and he couldn’t stop as he heard the words spill out, tinged with desperation.

“You don’t know what it’s like, not to be in control. I remember all of their faces. I watched myself do it like my body wasn’t my own anymore. I tried to kill my own squad, my brothers. And when the chip was finally gone, I kept going. As if—as if doing the same things of my own free will would help convince me it was my choice all along.” He was begging now, but not for his life, or even for forgiveness. “So it was my fault. I deserve it. Kill me.”

Crosshair still didn’t look away as he waited. All he could think of was the irony, that the vengeance he was owed would finally be brought down upon him by her, of all people. The one he’d saved.

Dara eased up a little on the knife, but not enough for him to move. It was hard to read her turbulent expression, myriad emotions all flaring up and gone in seconds, like a series of flashbangs.

“I’m no executioner,” she finally choked out. “Not like the Empire. Not like you.”

With her free hand, she reached behind him to another panel in the wall and found her second contingency. He almost welcomed the darkness when it hit him.

Tag list: @stardusthuntress @skellymom @megmegalodondon @somewhere-on-kamino @morerandombullshit @zahmaddog

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steviewashere · 10 months ago

Text

Words to Keep Us Moving (Chapter 1 of 6)

Rating: Mature CW: Implied/Referenced Non-Canon Character Death, Blood and Gore, Canon-Typical Violence, Animal Death—CANNOT EMPHASIZE THAT ONE ENOUGH, A DOG LITERALLY DIES HEED CAREFULLY Tags: Canon Divergence, Post-Season 4, Apocalypse AU, Vecna Apocalypse, Eddie Munson Lives, Steve Harrington Character Study, 5+1 Things, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Journal Entires, Amputee Steve Harrington, Disabled Steve Harrington, Worried Eddie Munson, Protective Eddie Munson, Protective Steve Harrington, Stubborn Steve Harrington, Eddie Munson is a Sweetheart, Steve Harrington is a Sweetheart, Pre-Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson, Getting Together, Steve Harrington Takes Care of Eddie Munson, Eddie Munson Takes Care of Steve Harrington, Other Tags to be Added

This is a 5+1 fic, but only the first chapter so far. Five journal entries during the apocalypse/moments during the apocalypse, and one entry after the apocalypse. Please heed all content warnings, I am begging you.

Also on AO3 (because this is wicked long for a first chapter)

📝———————📝 The First Journal Entry: April 16th, 1986

I don’t know what I’m doing with this. I’m not much for writing. Fuck, I couldn’t even write an essay for my senior paper. Nancy had to coach me through eighty percent of it. But I’ll go insane if I don’t speak. And I’m being careful with my voice for now. Those demogorgon things are blind, but aware. They can sense the heat of our bodies, the sounds of our movement, the smell of our fear and our blood.

Many people I’ve had to rescue have ultimately faded into nothing. They scream and they cry and they shake. They get too close, they stray too far. They reek of sweat. Even though I tried to get them away, to get them back towards the safe houses, they weren’t savable. I tried, though. Believe me, please, I tried.

Hawkins may not be salvageable. I don’t think this town is meant for saving. We try anyway. There’s the safe houses, like I mentioned. One bordering the exit sign, that’s where they put the women and children. They being the feds, by the way. Didn’t make that clear, should do that by now. Anyway. There’s the safe house across from old Forest Hills; the victims from the sinkhole crevice tearing through the trailer park go there. And then the final safe house is Hawkins High.

Some of our group is between Hopper’s cabin and my house. Everybody is safe there. Eddie’s no longer in hiding, but he still sleeps down the hall from me. Max is out of the hospital, her old bed now taken up by an elderly woman; the woman will probably die—a demogorgon got her with its claws—and Max is with El. The Wheelers are with their parents in the exit sign safe house, same with Henderson and his mom, the Sinclairs are there, too, and Mrs. Hargrove. Jon and Will are here with Hopper, El, Max, and Joyce. I wish we could take Max back to her mother, but she’s under constant supervision—El believes her newfound blindness is connected to Vecna. Wayne is no longer at the high school, he’s been forcefully relocated to old Forest Hills, but he’s welcome around here any time. Robin’s with her parents at the high school; that’s where Vickie is, so that’s where she’ll be.

I haven’t seen my parents since before the earthquake. They were out of town on a business trip. Mom went with Dad because she still doesn’t trust him alone. They called me the day Dustin brought me along to find Eddie. Told me they were on their way home, were driving back from the airport. I can hear back the message on the answering machine, as long as I keep the generator up and running.

Mom told me she loves me in it.

I can’t help but think that they should’ve been back by now. I’ve checked with the soldiers on the edge, see if they saw a black Lincoln come through. Told me no. Told me they found remains of a car; a black car. I stopped checking after that. Couldn’t stomach the meaning behind that.

Our town is in ruin. I’m not alone, I have to remind myself. I’ll go out on monster hunting duty tonight, first time on my own. We’ll see how that goes.

I have to go, I can hear Eddie rousing. Time to check his wounds. Make sure he has his dose of antibiotics. See if he needs Tylenol; opioid free now…yay!

———— Steve closes the soft leather cover of his journal. He found it among the rubble of the bookstore in town. He’d been advised by Hopper to start writing because apparently his low morale “affects the monster hunting” and if he didn’t get it under control, he’d be reassigned to radio duty. Where Eddie is now.

Speaking of, Steve stands from his cramped desk and walks the short distance to the first guest bedroom on his floor. Knocks gently on the wood and enters without any other preamble.

Sitting in the spare desk is Eddie, hair ruffled and clothes messily strewn across his body. He spares Steve a glance over his shoulder. The bandage on his cheek is beginning to peel and Steve knows it’ll be a bitch to change; he always feels bad when he has to rip it off, it tugs at the raw skin and the little bit of facial hair Eddie’s still able to grow. Remembers, though, the joke Eddie had made about his situation: “Look, I’m freaking Two-Face from the comics! Think he grows half a beard, too?” He had to bite his tongue. Almost reprimanded the poor guy.

He blinks and Eddie’s still staring at him.

“How’s it goin’, Stevie?” Eddie murmurs. His voice has taken on an even deeper rasp than before. The demobats had taken a liking to his chest and the base of his throat, but Steve had been able to keep those wounds from being life ending. “You were pretty quiet in there.”

“Well, you know we have to be somewhat quiet,” Steve mock-whispers, “thought I’d use the…solitude to focus on getting in a journal entry.”

Eddie hums. “Glad you’re getting started on that. Don’t wanna be removed from surveying duty, yeah? You’d be stuck in here with dear old me. And let me tell you, sitting around and checking the stations is booorrring.”

Steve snorts. “Yeah, well, this is where you remain until you’re healed.” He steps further into the bedroom, clicking the door closed softly behind him. Settles on the guest bed on the right of the desk. Roams his eyes around the walls. “I’m doing alright, though. A little nervous if I’m being honest. About going out there alone. What if I don’t hear—“

“They’re letting you go out there alone?” Eddie squawks. “They should be sending out one of those adults, not you! You’re just a kid, Steve.”

Taken aback, not one to usually be concerned about, Steve crosses his arms over his chest and scoffs.

“It’s not like I have anything else waiting back for me, right?” Steve bites. “It’s my duty and I plan on going through and taking care of said duty. And if something happens, I’ll radio back. You’ll hear me. Someone’ll come running. I’ll be fine.”

Eddie eyes him for a moment. His big, brown eyes impossibly wider. A little wet. His face is pinched, frowning. There’s a moment where he opens his mouth to protest something Steve said, hesitating strongly, but he literally bites his tongue. Croaks, “And if you don’t radio?”

“I’ll radio,” Steve insists.

“Will you? Because the last time you were on duty and that happened—“ He waves a hand at Steve’s missing left wrist. “—You didn’t say anything until you got back. You’re fucking lucky Claudia was over here with Dustin. Else you wouldn’t have any sort of nurse or doctor available to sew you back—“

“I’ll be fine,” he harshly interrupts. He sighs, drops his arms, and swallows hard. Then, he blinks and looks back, leans into Eddie’s space. Brings a tentative hand to trace the edge of his facial bandage. “Have your hands been shaking?”

“Don’t switch the conversation—“

“Have your hands been shaking?” Steve repeats firmer.

Eddie sighs through his nose. Sharp. Annoyed. “Yes, Steve, but I can do this on my own. You don’t need to—“

“Just let me change it before I go, okay? Give me a little peace of mind before I head out.” He pets his hand down to the underside of Eddie’s jaw, to the side of his neck. His pulse welcomingly slow.

Their eyes lock. Eddie’s concerned, too much for Steve’s liking.

Though, finally, “Okay,” Eddie murmurs, “but you have to promise that you’ll be careful, you’ll be safe.”

“Eddie, I already—“

“Promise, Steve. You have to keep your head on your shoulders. You have to report to us if you’re in danger. You have to come back.”

“I will,” Steve promises, whispers immediately, “I will from here on out.”

And with that, Eddie opens one of the desk drawers, pulls out a package of gauze and bandage, and offers it out for Steve to take. He leaves the room briefly to wash his hands, returning with damp fingers. It was a quick, yet intimate procedure. Peeling away the wrappers. Laying down the gauze—right after a cleaning. Taping it all down, sticking it to Eddie’s sensitive, raw skin.

When he pulls back, finished, Steve’s stomach jumps with a new level of unease.

It was done. He could go.

He has to go.

“Jacket,” Eddie murmurs, his hands holding out for Steve’s. He takes them, of course he does. Voice still low, he continues, “Don’t make the mistake I did. Stay safe.”

Steve squeezes Eddie’s hands, nods, and stands from the bed.

He looks back at Eddie before leaving the bedroom, but not without a steel ball weighing low in his stomach. There is a wildfire in Eddie’s eyes. And the beginnings of burns along Steve’s ribcage. He knows, whatever is going to happen, that his promise wasn’t just words.

It was a testament.

A confession.

He descends the staircase, grabs his jacket by the front door, zips it all the way up to the base of his neck, and leaves with his baseball bat and car keys.

———— The two way radio is heavy on his front left pocket. Sagging down the waistband of his jeans. There’s an empty chunk of his jacket sleeve that dangles down and rustles against it, he stops all movement to tie it up.

He was assigned to the scrapyard. Hopper’s orders.

Oddly enough, it was the only location in Hawkins to have very rare activity. Despite the history he shares with the place. But he knows what to do. There’s a jerry can of gasoline and a bottle of vodka in his trunk, a packet of matches in his jacket, and the weight of his splintering baseball bat in his grip. He’s silent as he walks through the bits and pieces of junk. Carefully dragging his feet over the loose soil, cautious about accidentally kicking a chunk of metal.

It’s so quiet, he can hear the wheeze of his breath. As he takes another step, standing parallel to 1984, there’s a sound that echoes through the breeze. A singular pained whimper. At first, he believes it to be a figment of his imagination. Nobody else should be out here. There’s cracks in the ground and fiery red sky oozing through the trees. A shimmer of early evening light and a plume of wind-wild smoke.

He hears it again, though.

This time, however, it’s followed by the rumble of a low growl. Unlike the chittering of a demo-creature. This sound belongs to something like a domesticated animal.

A dog, he recognizes, A dog.

Before he follows the sound, he turns back to where he discreetly parked his car: behind the concave of that rusted bus. Wriggles with the trunk until it just barely creeks above his head. Snatches up the vodka and the gasoline, tucks his baseball bat into his left armpit, and he shuffles back towards the source of the noise, the dog.

It follows out to some various, tumbleweed-esque bushes. He hides behind the nearest junk car, eyes narrowed above the hood. It’s a brown, thin-skinned, almost just bones puppy. Probably around six months or so. A mutt—some sort of lab mix. The eyes are wide, teary, dark brown, and frightened.

The dog cowers against a bush. And right in front of it is a small pack of demodogs. Three of them. Wide mouthed and snarling. There’s large globs of saliva leaking from its lower jaw, or what would be a lower jaw to a human. They’re not very big, roughly around the same size of this puppy, but they are muscular, leathery, and hungry.

He’s not sure what exactly his game plan is. But he knows he has to do something before this dog is consumed for all it is—all it isn’t.

Around him, he spots an empty, glass bottle. As quietly as he can, eyes pointed at the hard soil under his feet, he lays out his equipment. Sits down with his legs straight out in front of him. Ears alert for the dog—whimpers raising in volume, growling trailing off into an absolute nothingness. He sets the bottle upright onto the ground, squeezed together by his knees. Bites down on the twist cap of the vodka, rips it off with his teeth, and shakily pours the contents into the glass. Though, he realizes he doesn’t have a rag to put in the bottle’s opening.

Being careful once more, Steve fidgets with the tied wrist of his jacket. And begins, quietly on top of the whimpers, to tear away at the fabric. Until, finally, he’s got a scrap to stuff limply into the bottle. He wets the sleeve with a bit of the vodka. Then, he lights a singular match.

He places the wood end of the match between his lips, stands from behind the car with the bottle in his one hand, lights the jacket sleeve. And with as much force as he can, he chucks the glass at the demodogs.

It’s fast to occur. The dry bushes go up in bright orange flames. Red sky becoming one with the glow. From the barely interrupted silence, screeches and chittering and snarling erupt. The fire dances in the dog’s eyes. Demodogs melting, dropping to the side, falling silent and smoking.

Steve spots it, then. The wound on the dog’s gaunt side. Fresh blood, crusted brown stains around the edge of this bite, entire chunks of skin and muscle gone.

He realizes, when the silence surrounds him again sans the crackle of going out flames, that it was all no use. There was no point. It couldn’t be saved. He drops his arms to his sides. And watches the flames die out right in front of his eyes. The dry grass now brittle and black. The dog just as brittle, near death.

A glance around shows no other demo-creature. Hastily, he crosses to the bushels, yet slowly, he approaches the fading, cowering puppy. Crouches to be on the same level.

Clicking his tongue and snapping his fingers, he calls out. “C’mere, baby,” he coos, “c’mere, puppy.” However, it’s too weak to move. Too weak to run. So it just stares at him. Wide brown eyes and puzzled absent eyebrows. Fast, rattling breaths through its nose—ones that come from an organ deep exhaustion.

Startlingly, it reminds him of Eddie. He nearly throws up at the realization. Instead, however, he finishes his approach and settles close to the dog’s head. Gently, he lifts it into his criss-cross lap. The dog barely weighs anything between his legs. Its eyes drooping, exhausted. Its fur is greasy, and the skin dry under his good hand. But he doesn’t mind. All he does is comfort it, pet the curve of its skull, thumbs at the base of its ears, traces the wet edges of its nose. The only sound it makes is a gentle, giving-in wheeze of breath.

And as Steve runs his hand one more time over its skull, the dog passes on.

A quiet, ordinary thing. Its eyes going far. Chest caving with its last breath. Not another sound. Not another movement. An ordinary death with an ugly, unusual circumstance.

His lap pools with warm blood. It’ll congeal, stain, never rid. But he doesn’t care, for once. Instead, he lifts the dog over his shoulder, stands on trembling legs, and finds an unoccupied, untainted spot of grass. He lays the dog down into the overgrown weeds. And digs, uncoordinated and sloppy, into the oddly warm, consistently dry dirt. The soil gives way in clumps. Chunks of it getting stuck underneath his fingernails. Palm collecting the dirt into each of the fine lines of his palm.

It’s not a great hole. Only about a foot deep—too shallow. But he rolls the dog into the well he created. Closes its eyes with his one hand. And covers the body back up. Resting, now, on his dirtied knees in the aftermath of destruction. The smell of burnt flesh and dead grass filling his nostrils. Looking around at the scenery: scraps of rusted metal, yellow weeds, demo-corpses, and an ashen circle where rotting meat lays.

He’s not sure how long he sits there. How long he lays his palm over the textured mound of dirt in front of him. How long he grieves a dog he had no connection to. But when he gets up, dusk is settling in. And he figures, with no other activity and nothing else to look out for, he’ll head back.

He grabs the two way from his pocket. Switches to Eddie’s channel. Presses down on the talk button. Speaks low and nasally, “This is Steve. Report to Chief that there were three demodogs. None of them were fully grown; all small, hungry, bloodthirsty. I lit them up. Over.”

“Hear you, Steve. Report on supplies? Over.”

“Half of a bottle of vodka. Gasoline can full. I have a full pack of matches, except for one. But I think it would be a good idea if we collected empty glass bottles and rags. Over.”

The radio reads silent for a lull of two minutes.

Eddie speaks again, softly,“Come home. Over and out.”

———— His front door was already unlocked by the time Steve came through.

It should’ve startled him, really, it should’ve. Though, with the flash of that dog behind his eyelids and the odd fatigue that overcame his limbs, he barely even cared. But the lights throughout the first floor were dim. And the noise of the radio in Eddie’s room floated down the stairs like an early autumn breeze. It was almost sweet, when he eventually came across Eddie in the kitchen, but his stomach was nearing sour.

“I made dinner,” Eddie murmurs as a greeting. He’s standing at the stove, back towards Steve. “The rations that Wayne dropped off earlier had some stale bread and a jar of minced garlic. Thought I’d just make some shitty garlic bread with whatever spaghetti stuff I found in your pantry.” He looks up from the stovetop, then. His hair is sitting atop his head in a barely neat bun, but it’s enough. And he has Steve’s mom’s apron tied around him—covering a plain black t-shirt and a pair of red basketball shorts Steve had loaned him at the start of his stay. Eddie’s eyes widen when he takes Steve in, though.

There are no more words. Eddie’s mouth is open, dried up. And Steve doesn’t know if he can speak—not without tears, at least.

Finally, ever observant, Eddie gestures loosely to Steve’s clothes. “You’re sleeve…you’re pants…”

Steve has to swallow harshly. His right hand is clenched tight to his thigh, and if he still had the other one, he’s sure it would shake noticeably. But he stays rigid to the entryway. Thinking long of the dog. Of its last expression.

Of Eddie’s expression now.

He figures it odd, to be so hung up on this mutt’s face. The haunting that places itself in the small spaces between his ribs. Every single time he’s involved himself with these day-to-day nightmares, he hardly ever considered mortality. Unless it leant itself in the face of everybody else, in which he constantly and greatly considered life or death. In which he knew that it would be him under the knife; never one of the kids, never Nancy or Robin, not Eddie now, not even Jonathan. There were also several moments where he blearily considered morality—the hard set lines of its face and the ugly snarl to its lips. He always thought of himself last in these things, almost like he was repenting—if he put himself in the shoes of his younger self, starchy clothes, and a thick youth’s bible in his hands. Bad things mean bad results, he always considered.

But the dog had no common understanding of morality, let alone mortality. It probably dragged its heels when being pulled along its leash, being led somewhere it never wanted to go. It probably had a family who adored it to the moon and back. It probably was told it was good every minute of its sheltered life, fed dog bones, held close in the darkest point of evenings, and scratched soundly and contentedly between its ears.

And on top of that, he can’t stop ruminating over the striking resemblance the puppy held to Eddie’s own tired, desperate, dying face. His big button eyes and the blood across his body. The open wounds and the dried tears on his cheeks. There are two questions in his hands: Had the dog considered running away, or did it know that the demodogs was its fate? If so, did it die selflessly, or did it die to escape something greater?

He wonders if Eddie answered those questions before facing the demobats.

Eddie’s in his kitchen though, wooden spoon at his side, trembling to take a step forward.

At last, Steve croaks, “I buried a dog today.” He unfurls his fist and reaches out his shaking, dirty hand.

“Steve,” Eddie breathes.

“It—The demodogs were hunting it, Eds. I…I had to save it. I had to save the dog. I don’t know why, but I just…I had to. I set them on fire,” he explains, loose lipped and tumbling, “even when the fire died, the dog was still scared. I came close to it. And it wouldn’t run. I wanted it to run away. I wanted it to get to safety, but I noticed while the demodogs literally—“ Steve inhales, a hiccup, a gasp. “—A huge gaping bite on its left side. I could see its ribs. I could see where the blood began to dry up. So I put it in my lap. I pet it. It died.”

The spoon is settled softly on the granite counter behind Eddie. He approaches Steve slowly. Arms out, fingers spread wide. Steps into Steve’s orbit, but lays his palms on his shoulders, the trembling aching joints. Eddie’s thumbs begin working away at the tension. Before he can say anything, Steve speaks again.

“I buried it as far down as I could dig. And I just sat there, unsure of what to do.” His eyes burn and his throat stings. He shakes in his rigidness. So Eddie leads them to the dining area, settles Steve into a chair, leaves momentarily, and approaches again, now with a warm, wet rag in his hands.

Steve’s dirtied palm sits skyward in his lap. Eddie picks it up deftly, running the soft, worn side of the rag over his palm. The water probably won’t do all it needs to, the tap was apple juice colored, pipes having burst or flooded with sewer in the earthquake. They should use a ration of bottled water, but that would be a waste, Steve considers. So he lets Eddie work. Silently, gently.

He does it methodically. Working harder in the fine lines of Steve’s palm. Digging the cloth into the underside of each fingernail. Going by with another pass, crumbling the stubborn clumps. His breath deepens, sighing through his work. “I’m sorry you had to do that, Steve,” Eddie breathes. “Somebody should’ve been there—“

“The dog made me think of you,” Steve chokes out. He swallows back a pained whimper. Eddie halts all his movements and looks up startled. His wide eyes not scared, but too similar. “How you looked when…I just couldn’t leave it there to die.” And at that, Steve finally lets the tears spill over. He doesn’t make a sound, biting down on his tongue to make himself as silent as possible. But he shakes from shoulders to knees. Sipping air through his nose.

Steadfastly, Eddie maneuvers them so that Steve is burrowed deep into his chest, right ear over Eddie’s heart, nose smushed underneath his clavicle. Eddie strokes a hand down his back, wraps another around Steve’s forearm, above his absent wrist. Shushes him with whispers; the syrupy soft ones, the ones meant to soothe, but otherwise a babble of nothing. Of “You’re okay,” and “I’m okay,” and “You did okay.”

It works, eventually. Steve wrung out. Eddie shaken to his core.

They pull back from each other. The rag is run softly over the tear tracks on Steve’s face, cutting through a sheen of light dirt he didn’t know was there. Eddie murmurs, close to Steve’s tendered eyes and chewed lips, “Eat some dinner, okay? I’m going to put a call over the radio. And when I come back down, I’ll clean up and we’ll lay in your bed, alright?” Steve minutely nods and lets Eddie get him some food, mourning the touch he gave almost immediately.

And when Eddie’s upstairs, he hears, drifted from the opening of the guest room, “No more putting Steve on duty alone. That’s final. Over and out.”

The chattering static of the radio cuts out after that. Steve realizes he meant what he said. They’ll go to bed. Bodies close. Warmer, ever warmer.

But that dog will still be dead and buried.

📝———————📝 Taglist is open for this fic!! (Comment to be added <3)

#stranger things #steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #angst and hurt/comfort #apocalypse au #steddie apocalypse au #cw blood #cw gore #cw animal death

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kakasaku-week-2023 · 2 years ago

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Thank you everyone for participating in this year’s KakaSaku Week and making it such a success! Don’t forget to reblog all the art, and of course co scream at the authors in their comments on AO3. Hopefully we’ll see everyone next year!

For future events and more KakaSaku goodness, be sure to give us a follow at @scarecrowsandcherryblossoms!

Here’s the 2023 Master List, under the read more!

Day 1: Historic AU

Trapped in a Small Space—Innocent—"Never cruel or cowardly."

Art 🎨

a barmaid and a pirate by @mayskalih Innocence, the language of flowers by @aerie-skysinger historic au by @this-is-my-canon WWII trapped historic au by @xenea-aesthetic

Fics 📝

Shield by @tsume-inuzuka Undone by xylazine Salvation and Slaughter by @petriikore My Fate is in Your Hands by fusionblitz28 Hey Princess, Let’s Go by kaoruhana08 Ruination Be Damned by @sakuradeservedbetter91

Never cruel or cowardly by Crystalina The Lady and The Coward by @alittlewooy Midnight Stranger by FeralSaturday My Cruel Lady, My Cowardly Samurai by Fountain_pen Sharp Tongues and Foolish Daydreams by @twofortea Stuck in the Middle with Pakkun by @mrssakurahatake (every chapter is a different prompt of the week, still in progress!)

Day 2: Someone Else’s Show

Domesticity—Wingman/Wingwoman—"Should I stay or should I go?"

Art 🎨

an earthbender and a waterbender by @mayskalih someone else's show-bleach by @aerie-skysinger pretty woman by @this-is-my-canon

Fics 📝

My Cruel Lady, My Cowardly Samurai by Fountain_pen The Battle in the Underground by @goldfishlover73 What Trembles Underfoot by @twofortea The Intricacies of Pokémon Breeding by Fusionblitz28 Healed with a Kiss by heartensoul Stay by @alittlewooy

Day 3: Modern AU

3 A.M.—Missed Connections—"You have my sword."

Art 🎨

assassins modern au by @mayskalih 3 A.M. missed connections by @aerie-skysinger

Fics 📝

When I Saw You Standing There by @tipsyraconteur Kill for Me by @this-is-my-canon An Ocean Away, A Moment Away by Fusionblitz28 Like To Get To Know You by @twofortea Morning Fix by xylazine Pretext/Postscript by @ax31s2 Missed Connections by @alittlewooy A Four Week Class in Flirting, Seduction, and Bagel Making by @goldfishlover73 the booty call that wasn’t by @sakuradeservedbetter91

Day 4: Fantasy AU

Hot Springs—Seduction—"I'm just a girl, standing in front of a boy, asking him to love her."

Art 🎨

seduction fantasy au by @aerie-skysinger

Fics 📝

My Cruel Lady, My Cowardly Samurai by Fountain_pen Say What You Wish by @twofortea What The Sea Wants, The Sea Shall Have by @rosebrided Lady of Dreams by @alittlewooy

Day 5: Swap AU

Booty call vs. Butt dial—Beach—"Oops."

Art 🎨

oops by @aerie-skysinger swapped, beach by @this-is-my-canon office hours by @twofortea gender swap by @princessxgarbage

Fics 📝

One Long Mission by @goldfishlover73 Office Hours by @twofortea In Between My Legs by Fusionblitz28

Day 6: Mythology AU

Soulmate—Morning After—"Not if you were the last person on Earth."

Art 🎨

soulmate by @aerie-skysinger

Fics 📝

through violence by @this-is-my-canon On Wings like Wakinyan by by Fusionblitz28 Death and the Maiden by @twofortea

Day 7: Canon Divergence

Pakkun Makes a Startling Discovery—Arranged Marriage—"Why are you in my house?"

Art 🎨

Pakkun Makes a Startling Discovery by @aerie-skysinger married by @this-is-my-canon

Fics 📝

Dwindling Dreams and Infinite Nightmares by Fusionblitz28 What You Don’t Know (Sure Can Hurt You) by @twofortea a scent of floral by @goldfishlover73 From the Imperfect Start to the Finish Line by heartensoul

#kakasaku #kakasaku week 2023 #master list #hatake kakashi #haruno sakura #fanart #fanfiction #modern au #historical au #someone else's show #fantasy au #mythology au #canon divergence

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aethon-recs · 1 year ago

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HP Rec Fest, Day 19 ❄️

@hprecfest daily prompts running through Dec 31. Goal is to find lesser-known or underrated works, even by well-known authors, to feature here.

Day 19: Fic with the Hottest Smut

Prison Blues by @metalomagnetic (E, 68k, WIP)

Summary: Harry and Voldemort find themselves locked up in a mysterious prison in an A/B/O alternate universe setting. Why I rec it for this prompt: This is such a hard prompt to narrow down, because I feel like I could link like a hundred fics in this ship with really, really hot smut scenes. But! The smut in this fic is INSANE, and prolific, and detailed, and varied, and it's just perfection, and I literally couldn't focus on work or anything else for the rest of the day after reading certain chapter updates because all I could think about was how hot the writing in this fic was ‎️‍🔥

Running list of recs:

#hprecfest2023 #tomarrymort #harrymort #tomarry #aethon recs #tomarrymort recs

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tsukimefuku · 1 year ago

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Right, wrong and the in-between (Part 3)

Previous chapter | Next chapter

You and Higuruma were assigned to investigate the disappearance of women around Shinjuku. This led to a dicey situation regarding what place Jujutsu sorcerers occupy in this world and what is their role to play when non-sorcerers get involved.

This is part of my "Jujutsu Partners Canon Divergence AU". There is currently a sequence of short stories and random drabbles for a fic I'll eventually write (eventually). To see the ever-growing list of one-shots, please visit my masterlist :) The "Right, wrong and the in-between" will be a 4 (maybe 3) part short-story set in this AU. I hope you enjoy! The tags below will be applicable to every chapter.

Tags: oc/f!reader, soft/implied Higuruma x reader, soft/implied Nanami x reader, slow burn, mentions of violence and non-con/abuse among side characters, canon typical violence, some angst, some fluff, just characters being themselves driving the plot (and me) insane. Some philosophical debate will be in place.

WC: 2.7k

NECESSARY DISCLAIMER: This chapter is DARK and involves depictions of death and hints of s*x*al abuse. If you do not wish to read this part, you can jump to the "+++" sign below and read from there.

"Here you go, princess!" Toshio said, throwing you inside a very dark room. You had both of your hands tied to your back, and your feet were tied together as well. This room was right beside the interrogation office they had you in moments earlier, and you suspected this was in one of the buildings internally connected to the club. "Behave, or I'll fuck you up, got it?" He warned, right before slamming the door, and yelling for Yukiko. You figured that was the woman's name.

Propping yourself to seat upwards, you scanned around the room, as you could barely make out anything, but the stench was even worse inside this place than it was previously. There seemed to be some mattresses spread across the floor, and that was when you saw them — the kidnapped women laying over the mattresses.

According to Jujutsu Tech's reports, there had been 5 women kidnapped (6 if you counted the one you and Higuruma saw), but you could only make out 3 that were actually laying on their beds, and from what you could tell, they were covered solely with a paper thin white blanket. They seemed to be drugged, since none of them reacted when you were thrown inside the confined space. As you were searching for the remaining three women, it suddenly struck you, sending ice-cold shivers down your spine. Oh, no.

The smell.

You fought back the urge you had to throw up, as you saw a mass that could amount to three bodies, all stacked together, barely covered by a black tarp. "Oh my God!" You exclaimed. This was bad, very bad, and you had to get out of there as soon as possible. Shit, shit! Fuck! It was everything you could think at this very moment.

+++++++++++++++

"H-Hey." A tiny voice muttered from one of the mattresses on the floor. You looked its way, and it was the girl you and Higuruma had seen earlier that day. She still had her clothes on, maybe because they didn't have the time yet to do anything to her. The woman crawled her way to you, with some difficulty, and tried to sit beside you, having to remain supported by her two arms on the front of her body.

"Hey." You answered. "What is your name?"

"It's... My name... I'm Kaoru." She was clearly still loopy.

"I'm here to save you girls." You answered. "But I'm going to need your help."

She was waning off slowly.

"Hey!" You whispered strongly in her direction, eliciting a slight eye widening from her. "Kaoru, I'm going to need your help for untying myself."

"You untie yourself?" She asked, puzzled. "That hag, she told me to follow her, and then..." She sighed deeply. "What then?"

This was pointless, she was still completely useless. You started to look around and see if there was absolutely anything you could use in order to cut the ropes they had used to immobilize you, but apart from the darkness, there didn't seem to be anything helpful inside that bedroom. You had to use your technique, it was the only way, but you were afraid — and rightfully so — of making too much noise with a tiny grenade and bestow upon these women and yourself the wrath of the duo.

"Shit. What the fuck can I do?" You muttered to yourself. You finally had the idea to lay over your arms, right on top of one of the mattresses, and just pray it would be silent enough not to garner any unwanted attention.

Taking a deep breath, you laid yourself on your back and slowly pushed yourself through the ground, using your tied up legs and elbows, towards a mattress. Then, you managed to squiggle your way on top of it, and held your breath as you summed the tiniest grenade you could, just to rupture the rope keeping your hands together.

It was a little louder than expected. You heard footsteps in the room's direction and the door bust open, revealing Toshio's worked up face. "What the fuck are you doing?"

"I was trying to lay on the mattress and I fell." You said, as it was the first thing to pop into your mind.

He walked towards you and slapped you viciously across your face, managing to somehow hit your ear as well, leaving you to see stars and temporarily deaf on that side, as a ringing echoed all throughout your skull. "Be quiet, or I'll do a lot worse, princess." He said, puling on your shirt disgustingly. You mustered all your strength to not spit in his face as he got up and made his way out, slamming the door loudly yet again. You were relieved, though, for your plan had worked, and you managed to liberate your arms from the cords contraption the hag had conceived.

Now, prioritize. Cursed speech user, so I have to- you started looking for anything you could use to stuff inside your ear. One of the mattresses had some holes with foam bursting through the seams. You quickly grabbed two fairly sized balls of that white plush and jammed them inside your ears, before doing absolutely anything else. Now sensory deprived, you swiftly started looking for the end of the knot where your legs were tied, and it was a pretty difficult task that took at least 10 minutes to complete.

You got up, grabbed Kaoru and laid her on the mattress. "I'll be back for you, okay?"

She nodded as she dozed off.

You then went to at least check on the other women, and it was as you thought. They were covered in bruises, bites, cuts and scratches, completely unclothed under the sheets and doped beyond anything you could do to help all of them currently. You inhaled deeply, and absolute rage took over your body.

***

Nanami and Higuruma were making their way around the block, walking silently beside each other, and the tension in the air was thick enough to be cut with a knife. It was already dark, and the streets were incredibly crowded with gamblers, drunk people and those looking for something else in the red-light district. However, no one dared to approach them offering any kind of service — probably because of Nanami's energy of fury, which was simmering just under a nonchalant expression.

"So, cursed speech technique. It really doesn't work if you can't hear what is being said?" Higuruma asked.

"Yes, it doesn't. When we arrive, insert the cotton balls inside your ears as deep as you’re able to, in order to properly isolate noise." Nanami replied.

They went to the rendezvous ahead of schedule. Since these people were clearly idiots and had no idea what they were doing, there was a pretty great chance that they provided the address to their current location as the place to hold this meet up. Nanami and Higuruma's thinking soon would prove to be very right.

Both men, when they got to the address, found themselves in front of a simple wooden door with two sets of locks. Higuruma started looking around for another way inside.

"What are you… currently engaged in?" Nanami questioned him.

"This door is clearly locked. I'm looking for another way inside the building." Higuruma explained.

Nanami sighed, promptly grabbing his blunt blade and completely destroying both of the locks on the door with one single hit, pushing the door inside. "Our path is clear now. Follow me." He said, stepping inside the narrow corridor. Some people stared and them, and Higuruma took note of that.

"Discreet." Higuruma stated.

Nanami stopped in his tracks, not turning to face Higuruma as he spoke, forming a wall between the former lawyer and the rest of the way. "I strongly suggest you keep that attitude in check for the time being. Someone is in harm’s way, and it is your responsibility, yet another time."

Higuruma scoffed, knowing all too well that explaining anything right then would be a complete waste of their time, as both made their way up the stairs.

Then, Nanami and Higuruma fit the cotton balls inside their ears.

***

Suddenly, there was a loud noise of something breaking outside, and you heard Nanami's voice calling for you. That was your queue.

You opened the door, already bearing one grenade inside your palm, the one with the corrosive element within. Toshio tried to body slam Higuruma, and was gaveled away across the hallway, landing right beside the door to the women's cubicle.

The woman came running and screaming something you couldn't make out thanks to the foam you stacked inside your ears, and you jumped in her direction, choking her from behind and shoving your corrosive grenade inside her mouth, letting it explode — the explosion was minimal, just to liberate the substance inside her mouth. Yukiko grabbed her neck with both her hands, falling to the ground, seemingly choking. Sighing, you kneeled beside her and RCT'd her throat, just so she wouldn't die, but the sigil in her tongue was destroyed, and so was her ability to manipulate any of you with cursed speech.

You got up and walked back to the door, opening it, seeing Toshio laid on the ground completely unconscious. You kicked the guy, and while kicking him, didn't derive half as much satisfaction as you hoped to. Kaoru had managed to drag herself near the door, and you looked at her, laying beside that man. Your stomach turned unpleasantly.

Nanami and Higuruma started to make their way to meet you, but you signaled for them to stop.

"Don't come. There are women in here, the victims. They're... Just- don't come near. Let's preserve whatever dignity they still have left after this pigdid what he did to them." You kicked him again, this time in the stomach, and the man jolted awake in a world of pain. "Good. I hope you feel it and I hope it hurts."

You walked across the hallway and looked at Nanami and Higuruma. They both seemed slightly surprised as they took a closer look at you, and it was puzzling — was your face...? There was a small dirty mirror hanging near you, and then you saw. Nearly half of your face was covered in bruising, and there was no pain probably due to adrenalin.

Unexpectedly, you heard quick footsteps making their way towards the exit, and you three realized at the same time it was Toshio. Faster than you could think, you conjured and threw a grenade right above the door, letting all the rocks come tumbling down and blocking the way out. The man was terrified, but one of the rocks hit him in the head, rendering him unconscious yet again.

You felt numb, abused, invaded and infuriated like you had never before in your entire life. You conjured up a massive grenade in your hand and started to walk towards Toshio, blinded with murderous intent.

Nanami saw you conjuring it and promptly grabbed your arm, pulling you back. "What do you intend to do?" He questioned you. His grip was firm, but wasn't hurtful at all. He was completely in control, especially now that the crisis was averted, as it was to be expected of Nanami.

You looked back at him with the emptiest eyes you had ever showed up until this point. "What does it look like? I'm going to kill him."

"No, you are not." Nanami replied.

"Nanami, let go of my arm. I mean it." You growled, turning to face him.

"Unfortunately, I cannot oblige to such a request. We're not murderers, and we certainly do not take the lives of non-sorcerers. That is not what we came here to do."

"Are you really going to protect a rapist murderer piece of shit because he's a non-sorcerer? Seriously?" You were hanging for dear life to every little piece of respect, admiration, and affection you had for Nanami in order to not yell at him that moment. "Those women in there are mutilated!"

"You seem to be mistaken. I'm not protecting this man," Nanami said, gravely, "I'm protecting you."

You scoffed, completely incredulous.

"It won't make a difference." Higuruma interjected. "These charges alone — rape, aggravated assault, multiple murders and possibly even sex trafficking — would probably elicit a death penalty for this man. The evidence against him is abundant."

Nanami sighed. "Your input is unnecessary and unsolicited." Nanami made absolutely no effort to hide his distaste for Higuruma at that moment, and the former lawyer noticed it, simply scoffing in response.

"So you think the existence of a Court to prosecute this man is unnecessary?" Nanami questioned.

"Oh, I don't think that. I know it." Higuruma retorted. "He'll surely be prosecuted and convicted, sentenced to capital punishment for his crimes regardless of his defense. It's just a matter of deciding how and when he dies."

"We are jujutsu sorcerers, not judges, nor executioners." Nanami answered sternly.

"I beg to differ." Higuruma replied. "When we kill curse users, we're executioners, whether you like it or not."

"We only kill at sight already sentenced individuals, and in extremely specific scenarios, unless we're acting in self-defense." Nanami pointed out. "And it's beyond our scope dealing with regular citizens. We're jujutsu sorcerers, remember that."

"Nanami, you keep saying that like it has some inherent meaning!" You said, angrily. "What does that mean to you?"

He sighed, turning his gaze to you. "It means our role is not to choose what happens to non-sorcerers that get themselves involved with these situations. We have our role, and the judiciary system as well as other systems in place have theirs."

You grunted, and angrily pulled your arm from his grip. "Fine. I don't think I'm suited for this jujutsu sorcery bullshit, then."

"Do you intend on becoming a vigilante curse user?" He asked, standing between you and Toshio's unconscious body on the ground. His gaze was razor-sharp, and he clearly demanded an answer from you.

"No. I-" You were coming back to yourself, and diverted from his locked gaze on you to stare at the innocent woman who was drugged up by the door. "I just can't look away and do nothing because things that go beyond killing curses and fighting curse users are outside of my role." You walked towards Kaoru, kneeled beside her, and started to RCT her back to consciousness. "I'm not that kind of person, nor will I ever be."

Higuruma and Nanami were standing silently, for none of them had an answer to what you had just said.

"I will not ignore the people that get harmed along the way, and I will not cease to try helping the people I can outside from exorcizing curses and stopping curse users."

"You can't save every person in need of aid." Nanami pointed out, matter-of-factly.

"I didn't say I intend to, I'm not a naive child nor do I have some savior complex. But I'll help those I can and try to mitigate the ugly consequences stemming from our job. Otherwise, being here and working for Jujutsu High would just mean I'm wasting my time. I want a new Jujutsu world-" you remembered your conversation with Gojo, months prior, as you heard his words spill out of your mouth, "and I can't do that if I just stick to my designated role. I can and will do more than that."

He sighed, and Higuruma was attentively watching the both of you. Higuruma was right about you, after all. You were definitely not a cynical person. And he felt, as he heard you speak, that neither was he.

"If you got any problem with that, Nanami, take it up with whomever you need to." You said, ending the discussion.

Nanami sighed as he crossed his arms and relaxed his shoulders. "I won't file any complaint of the sort." He pondered for a moment, and grabbed his phone. "I'll call an ambulance and the police right now. We should leave before they arrive."

"Hm...?" You heard Kaoru humming softly as she started to wake up.

"Hey." You said, looking at her. "You're safe now."

Tears started streaming down her face, as she held your hand that laid on her chest. "Thank you."

Next chapter will be the epilogue. There will be a lot of dialogue and interesting stances on the JJK world from our trio.

#jujutsu kaisen higuruma #higuruma x reader #jjk higuruma #jjk hiromi #hiromi x reader #higuruma hiromi #jjk imagines #jjk drabbles #jjk x you #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu nanami #nanami kento #jjk nanami #jjk fanfic #nanami x reader

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