#without that angsty turn or undertone | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

freyito · 1 year ago

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"ꜱᴛᴀʏ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴍᴇ" ⨟ ᴀɴɢꜱᴛ ᴡ/ ᴛʜᴇ ᴋᴏᴍʙᴀᴛ ʙᴏʏꜱ

i know i was like just hornyposting and all buuuut i've had such a rough couple of days and everythings really building up. figure i'd sit down and write out my favorite "prompt". hurt/comfort... without the hurt, i guess. too hurt to write the hurt :P. essentially what the boys would do when your feeling down and ask to stay with em, of course. is this what im calling the boys now? yes. its MY fic and MY comfort, i get to choose the silly little name for my boyfriends.

cw: gn reader, angsty undertone, comfort, just fluff, bonus characters!, not proofread

⎯ Liu Kang

You do not even need to speak. Liu Kang can see it. You are hurt, near breaking. You trail behind him all day, head down. You actively seek his touch, small things, reaching for his hand, brushing your fingers against his bicep. You are afraid to say it, and yet, he knows.

That night, before he leaves your room to attend to his duties as Earthrealm's protector, you finally speak up. Those three simple words, so quiet, so soft. He does not hesitate to turn around. He is logical, he likes to think, but you pull him in. Within moments, he is in bed with you, his arms wrapped around you firmly. He presses his forehead against your cheek, and whispers,

"I will not leave you, my dear, I am here. Forevermore."

⎯ Bi-Han

Bi-Han knows you almost better than the back of his hand. However, he prefers to let you wallow in peace. He is afraid of pushing past your boundaries, and as such, he is far more distant. Yet, he worries. He worries with his whole heart. However, he cannot let it show. So he is as cold as ever, in front of the Lin Kuei. Strong, vigilant, unyielding.

Tonight, he does not let you go. He misses you so, and you have no need to tell him what you need. It is tender. He pulls you on top of him, holding you close by the waist. And yet, you still speak. And he listens. His gaze softens, tremendously. He looks as if he may be on the verge of tears. His voice steady, as he speaks, yet his face betrays his tone,

"There is no possibility of leaving you, no, not even in death."

⎯ Kuai Liang

Kuai does not know what ails you- but he must. He must know. You have done well to shy away from him, but he is hot on your trail. He knows that hollow look, devoid of emotion, too afraid to show any. Because if you show one, you show all. He does not smother you, no, but he does question you.

The questions stop at night. It is quiet. He is afraid of pushing you further. So Kuai Liang leaves you alone in the bed, with one last kiss on your forehead. Yet, he stands in the doorway. He waits. You speak. And he listens. All you say is one word. He retreats back in bed with you, pushing you closer to his neck. He runs his hands through your hair, calming you down. To still your beating heart. And he speaks with conviction,

"I am here, as long as you need, forever, if you so wish, my love."

⎯ Johnny Cage

Perhaps, Johnny is too much for you recently. And that's okay! He knows his limits. Yet, he finds himself seeking you out. He misses your warmth, your smile, you. He knows that he can be loud, that he can be a lot. And he's always given you space. Yet that look you hold, it is miserable. And he knows exactly what you feel. He follows you around, as if a lost dog, the entire day. He wants you to have space, but he wants you to say those words.

And you do, that night. Finally, those words escape your lips. Just what Johnny wanted to hear. He's got you wrapped up in the blankets, pulling you up into his chest. His hand rests on the back of your head, gently rubbing his thumb into your hair. He presses a kiss to your forehead, and whispers, gently, almost out of character,

"It's alright, sweetheart, I'm not leaving, not tonight, not tomorrow, not anytime."

⎯ Kenshi Takahashi

You cannot hide that sinking pain within your heart, Kenshi can hear the melancholy dripping within your words. He can hear it in your breath, your actions. How your footsteps drag, how slow you walk. He can see it, too, do not be fooled. You stay close, unnecessarily close, you look up at him with such heavy eyes, you stay quiet. He knows. He is waiting for you to act on it, to act on the voice he hears at the very edge of his mind. He is a telepath, you must remember.

And so, when you speak your mind finally, he is all too eager to make sure you know he won't leave. He pulls you up onto his chest, his heartbeat even, soft, and regular. The moment is tender, and he lets your words hang in the air. Silence covers you two like a blanket, comforting. And finally, as he runs his hand down your sides, squeezing your waist gently, he speaks,

"Do not be afraid to tell me what you want, my heart. I will stay close, I will stay."

⎯ Kung Lao

Kung Lao does not need words to stay by you. Night and day. He is glued to your side, trying to cheer you up with his charm. He does not give you enough room to sulk. He's dragging you along with him, even if it's something as simple as watching him train. To keep you at ease, to put a smile on your face. He is making sure everything he does has that effect.

Yet, you still ask him to stay when night comes. He does not deny it, and he pushes himself closer. As if you were not in his arms already. But he makes sure you know he heard you, he squeezes you, and lets out a soft sigh. There is nothing that will take him away from you, and you must know,

"I won't. Nope, not even tomorrow. I'm here as long as you want me here."

⎯ Raiden

You cannot keep Raiden away from you. The minute your expression is somber, he is following close behind you. He does not ask, or interrogate you. But he follows. He is on the lookout for any sort of thing that could have stolen his light from him. What has gotten to you, what dares rip the spark of his life from you? He does not know how to ask you, he is afraid that perhaps it is him.

But it is not. Your hand pulls him back to you by his wrist as you speak. And he obliges. He does not know what has made you feel this way, but he does know, that maybe even this one night will be enough to bring your smile back. He will stay here, as long as you need, as long as he needs. And he makes it known,

"Oh, my light, nothing can keep me away from you."

⎯ Zeffeero

Zeffeero is on you the minute your face so much as drops. Perhaps he is a stubborn lover, too prideful to admit that he cares deeply for you. But he cannot handle loosing your presence, his sunshine. He wants your attention, but does not say so outright. He will do that little thing with the water manipulation and the shapes to amuse you... without you asking. And when that does not bring the smile back to your face, he does not know what else to do.

His heart near stops when you tell him to stay that night. He feels so stupid to have skipped over that part. But he accepts. He tries to show restraint, however he is by you within a matter of seconds. He places a kiss on your jaw, before hiding his face in the crook of your neck. His arms wrap around you, keeping you close. Just as he wanted to the entire day, and he finally speaks,

"Do not scare me so, my dear. I want to keep you safe, and I'll stay until you no longer want me by your side."

⎯ Tomas Vrbada

Your distance is noticeable. However, Tomas does not act upon it. He believes that you need the space you have put between you and him and everyone else. So he does not question it. However, there is a void where you once were. His world fills with the same emptiness and sorrow you felt at your absence. He cannot help but seek you out in the final hours of the dawn. He is afraid, once more. He does not want to pressure you, so he turns his back to you.

You surprise him with your words, he near spins on his heels, a wide and beautiful grin gracing his face. He makes no effort to hide this. His happiness, his light has asked him to stay, and he would be a fool to deny them such a request. He practically throws himself back onto the bed, and wraps his big arms around you. He presses his forehead against yours, and holds your gaze. He speaks, quietly, softly, and you can even hear his smile in his voice,

"I am here for you, Drahoušek. I always will be. Do not be afraid to come to me."

⎯ Baraka

Oh, how Baraka feared this day would come. You have turned your back to him, the air around you rife with despair. He is not afraid that you suddenly dislike him. He is afraid of loosing your positivity. One of the very few things he has held onto because of his affliction. You make him forget all that is bad within this world, within him. And now, there is an absence. He does not know what to do.

But that night, you guide him. Through his own sulking, your words pull him away. Yes. He will gladly stay. If that is what you want. If that is what it takes. He keeps his distance, still. He will always be afraid of his infection spreading. But he sleeps in the same room. And just before you drift off into sleep, you hear him,

"I cannot lose you. Please, tell me when, and I will be there."

⎯ Geras

Geras has reason to believe the reason you have pulled away from him is because of his absence. Because of him. Human emotions are a strange thing, they are intricate, even more so than the dozens of timelines he has watched over. Oh so suddenly, you are turned away from him, too caught up within your own thoughts to voice what has been troubling you. Perhaps it is the fact that he does not have nearly enough time for you. That is the answer he settles on.

Before he can leave you that night, your pleas make him stop. They make him understand, even for a second. He was so sure you were asleep. And yet, you are awake, asking him to stay. He is unsure what to do. But, he must give his love what they want. What they deserve. So, he leans in, and places a gentle kiss on your cheek. His words follow soon after,

"I will always be here, my duty is important, but so are you. Know this, I am always watching over you."

⎯ Syzoth

You've ran off. And Syztoh does not know what to do with himself. He paces, he fidgets, he waits. He must see you again. But you were so hurt beforehand, and he does not know why. You have withdrawn into yourself, without a word. And Syzoth does not know how to comfort you. He knows you are feeling down, horrible even. Yet, he feels as if he has ran you off. His insecurities well up within his mind as he waits. And waits.

And the time comes where you ask him, you reach for him. Your voice quivers. Oh my, how could he have let this happen. He pulls you in, almost bringing you down to the ground. He wraps himself around you, burying his face into the crook of your neck. His nerves calm, in that moment. Muffled, he speaks, his words true and clear, if not a little shaky,

"I waited, my love, and I will stay. I will always be here. Every moment, every moment you need me."

⎯ Havik

Havik is apprehensive. He does not quite understand what to do in this situation. With you, his lover, in front of him, a mess, voice hoarse, your emotions addle your mind. He looks at you dumbfounded. He reaches for you, but his hand does not meet your shoulder. Now, you feel as if you are miles away from him. Space. That is what he understands, now.

But, the space he has given you is broken that night. You find him in bed, intertwining his fingers with yours. His scarred flesh does not scare you, as much would believe. His eyes are warm, peaceful for once. The words are on the tip of your tongue, yet you do not need to speak. Havik answers, regardless,

"Finally. Do not run from me like that again, I do not mean to leave you alone."

⎯ Shao Kahn

To return home, where you are not waiting for Shao in the kitchen, it is a nightmare. The worst is the first thing that runs through his mind. You are lost, perhaps. Taken. But he finds you, safe and well. Back to him, on the edge of the bed. He does not speak, but he lets his presence be known. He lays down on the bed, facing you, and simply watches.

Until it is time for you to speak, you look at him with such sad eyes. He is there. You do not have to ask, for you know the answer. But you ask, anyways. Shao simply reaches a hand out to you, and pulls you back in bed gently. Tonight, he can. Maybe not tomorrow morning, but tonight, he can. And he will,

"I will always stay by your side. I am here to keep you safe, do not forget it."

⎯ Shang Tsung

Shang Tsung pampers you, right out of the gate. He hates to see you like this, so sullen, so quiet. It is his goal to pull you out of this feeling. Even if it hurts his wallet. And yet, it seems his plan falls short. He is disheartened, to say the least. Perhaps he might sulk, as well. But he doesn't, or he tries not to, anyways. He simply follows you around, now. Trying to lift your spirits.

And that only comes when night falls, nestled underneath the covers. Shang Tsung is still close. Extremely close. Yet, you can't help but ask, regardless. And he listens. He chuckles softly, and pulls you in for a quick peck on the lips. For a moment, he stares into your eyes, rolling your words over in his mind. His tone is sly, but his words are, for once, kind,

"There you are, my darling. Of course I'll stay. Who would I be if I didn't? I'll stay forever, if I must."

⎯ Reiko

Reiko wants to be soft with you, and yet, he can't find a way through to you in this moment. He does not understand why you've withdrawn from him. Why you are so somber. He decides that it is space you need, not him. So, he gives you exactly what he believes. Yet, he still keeps an eye on you. He wants to make sure you are safe, regardless. Even as you sulk.

You find him once more at the end of the day, laying in bed. The idea of him, of Reiko, relaxing, seems so odd. Yet, he is lounging. He is waiting. So you speak, and all he can do is look at you. He gestures towards the bed, and you do so. Laying down, he holds you close. Properly. His arms wrapped around the small of your back, your forehead against his chin. And he speaks, finally,

"If I am to say no, then I would rather be decapitated by General Shao himself. Do not ever hesitate to ask, you know I will."

⎯ Erron Black

Outlawin' and Gunslingin' is a hard trade. What's even harder is making sure you are happy. And now, you are pulling yourself away from Erron. This mood you're in... he's going to get you to snap out of it, dammit. And he tries. He tries real damn hard. He flaunts off his skills, just how quick and precise he can fan the hammer, maybe take down some poor bird from the sky. Yet, you still look at him, devoid of emotion.

Erron has all but given up until you find him in the bed that night. Somehow, you look more of a mess then before. And he just can't forgive himself for it. Yet, you still ask. He's dumbfounded, really. He doesn't know what to say. But, his body knows what to do. Absentmindedly, he pulls you into the bed by your hand. He keeps you close, yet still leaves distance between your bodies. His hand finds your cheek and caresses it with his thumb. Finally, he's found his words, and so he speaks, for you,

"Ya ain't gotta worry about me leavin', pumpkin. I'll stay riiiiiiight here, long as ya need."

⎯ Takeda Takahashi

You're quiet. You're so damn quiet and it's almost irritating for Takeda. He can't get to you, he can't break through this heavy, melancholy air around you. He's following you around, regardless. He's going to find out why you're acting like this, and if it's because of someone, he won't mind sweating a little. But it isn't. It isn't cause of anyone, it isn't cause of him. It's cause of you. And now, he truly doesn't know what to do. So he backs off.

Until you find him once more, seeking his attention. His touch. His comfort. Takeda doesn't deny this, as you slink into bed, behind him. You tap him on the shoulder gently, and he turns his head back to you. Before he can speak, you ask. The lightbulb goes off in Takeda's head, and suddenly, he feels horrible. You didn't need him following you around like a bodyguard all day, nor did you need the bombardment of questions. You simply needed him. So, he responds,

"Don't scare me like that, dammit. Of course I'll stay, but just... yeah, yeah. I'll stay."

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sugarushwriting · 15 days ago

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red flag jay

very angsty or somewhat

could’ve went into more detail but didn’t really want multiple parts

adult content!!! read at own discretion!!!!

wrote this months ago!! like early last year alongside heeseungs!! was supposed to write red flag enhypen for all 7 but only got to two of them.

don’t want this sitting in my drafts so here yall go for entertainment! not proof read or updated since i first wrote this months ago!!!

₍ᐢ. .ᐢ₎ ₊˚⊹♡

you sighed in exhaustion as you looked to the clock on the nightstand. 11:47 pm.

just once you wished your fiancé would come home to you before 9 pm.

before you agreed to marry him, the latest he’d had ever gotten home to you after work was 7 pm. after the engagement it became later and later.

he wasn’t cheating. you’d already went that route and followed him after 5 months of being sick and tired of him coming home late, wondering if he was already being unfaithful.

turns out, he was just a workaholic.

you were in a nice sleep when you finally heard the turn of the doorknob, and soft steps. jay was trying hard to get ready for bed without waking you.

too bad although you’ve given up on waiting for him every night, you still naturally woke up when jay came home. most nights you just didn’t let it show.

he kissed your forehead before he got into the bed behind you, wrapping his arms around you. he inhaled your scent, smiling against the back of your neck with a kiss.

“love you baby.” he whispered before he quickly got into a deep sleep himself.

you’ve known jay for about 2 years. dating him for 1, then getting engaged soon after. it’s just been a little under 6 months since saying yes to jay. 2 months since you both were intimate.

you lied awake, sighing in frustration. you knew jay had long work hours as he was partners in a travel company. that’s how you two met. you were on vacation, and his company happened to be the one you used. his team was conducting customer service surveys.

you didn’t mind you and jay weren’t intimate every night. because on the nights you both finally let out pent up frustration, you all would be intertwined with each other at all hours of the night.

the sun began to rise through the sheer curtains in your bedroom. jay would be up soon.

you got up and went into the kitchen to start the coffee pot and make sure jay had a lunch to take even though you knew he most likely would eat out.

you wondered why you even try anymore.

a kiss to your cheek startled you, followed by his morning voice, “morning my love.”

you mumbled, “morning.” a sassy undertone clearly present in your voice. for some reason you woke up extra pissed and petty. for good reasons.

jay chuckled, “what’s with the attitude?” he leaned against the opposite counter of you, crossing his arms.

you quickly whirled around, a frown etched on your face. “i don’t know jay.” you snapped with a shrug. “maybe i’m just missing my fiancé?”

“i’m right here.” he said confused, uncrossed his arms, gripping the counter.

“well you might as well not be! you seem more interested in your job than your own fiancé!”

jay sighed, “love, you know my job is very demanding, especially right now with holiday season coming up.”

“i know that jay, but it’s not fair!” you started to tear up. “i miss welcoming you home, and eating dinners together and watching tv before falling asleep in your arms.” a tear slipped down your cheek and jay immediately came to you to wipe away your tears and comfort you.

he kissed your forehead. “i’m so sorry love. i promise i’ll try to be home before 7 tonight.”

you smiled and nodded.

︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶

6:55 pm you sat at the dinner table shaking your leg anxiously, checking the time every 3 seconds.

7:05 pm you thought he was probably stuck in late night city traffic.

7:35 pm you made the excuse that he was probably held up by a bad accident.

so you texted him.

you: jay is everything ok? is traffic bad?

8:15 pm you started cleaning up and getting worried he was maybe hurt

you: jay love are you ok? please let me know you are okay!

8:45 pm you were tempted to call around to different hospitals

9:25 pm you were furiously throwing items in a suitcase, wanting to commit murder yourself

future hubby!: love i am so so sorry…

you didn’t even finish the text before you threw your phone on the bed and grabbed a small suitcase.

tears streaming down your face, sobs coming out your mouth, you had to stop a few times to take deep breaths.

your mind and vision was so cloudy, full of hate, resentment, frustration, hurt, anger, and disappointment.

you were so focused, when you came out the bathroom carrying needed supplies, you hadn’t heard jay come in.

he looked at the suitcase with a confused expression and concern, then he looked at you. seeing your tears almost broke him.

“baby i am so sorry!” he began to say. you ignored him and kept packing some of your things. “baby, please listen!” he tried to grab at you but you pulled away and yelled at him to not touch you.

he said your name as sternly as he could. “this was a big meeting ok! i forgot it was with investors overseas, and this is very important for the company!”

you didn’t want to hear it. “you made a promise, jay.” you said softly not once looking at him.

“im sure i made a promise to try and make it home.” he pointed out and you stopped dead in your tracks. staring at him with cold and dead eyes.

“fuck. you.” you spat and went to zip the suitcase but jay stopped you by pulling you away.

you both nearly tussled over the suitcase until he grabbed your hands in his. “don’t be like that.” he said making sure to look you in your eyes.

“what am i supposed to be like then, huh?” you said angrily. “just be a good little house fiancé and soon to be housewife then soon to be stay at house mom? and be ok with my husband being at work at all hours of the day? while i stay home with our children who barely knows their dad?”

you were thinking of the future. your heart breaks thinking about raising the children and you jay were excited for all by yourself. if he stayed at work, his children would never know their dad.

“i’m doing this for you! for us! our future family!” jay shot back. “to make sure you get the best wedding, and have the best life! so that our kids have everything they want!”

“and if that means sacrificing time with you im sure our future kids don’t care about flashy things! i sure don’t! i don’t need or even want a big wedding jay!”

“and what? be ridiculed by my peers because my wife had a shotgun wedding?”

you gasped then scoffed. “are you doing this for me or for your peers to prove something, jay?”

jay stayed tight lipped. you shook your head in disbelief, the tension still high in the air.

you slipped by past jay grabbing the suitcase. he put his hand on it, stopping it from wheeling. “where are you going?”

“somewhere not here.”

“how you gonna do that, love?” jay narrowed his eyes, seeing red that you would dare leave him like this. “you have no family, no friends, no job, no money, no car. what you have is because of me. clothes, shoes, money, that car you drive, your phone. hell my friends are your friends.”

before you could react you slapped him. your engagement ring slightly cutting his cheek. he reached up to his cheek in shock not only because of the slap but because of what he said.

tears swelled up once again. this time anger tears. “fuck you jay! just fuck you! it’s all because of you!” you spat knowing you gave up your comfy life across the globe to take a chance with this man.

jays phone suddenly rang. he looked at the caller id with a sigh and his eyes looked at you apologetically. you knew it had to do with work.

“you answer that jay, and im gone.”

“if you leave, you leave with nothing.” he challenged.

he turned his back to you answering the call. what you wanted to do was throw the lamp at him. instead you grabbed your wallet with the only things that were truly yours, taking out his credit card and taking off your his engagement ring.

you saw your phone on the bed then remembered his words. so as quickly as possible with your wallet, you put your sneakers on in the living room hearing jays voice call your name.

“can you hold for just a second?” he said into the phone, coming into the living room watching as you put on your last shoe. “love, what are you doing!”

you ignored him as he alternated between yelling your name and talking to whoever on the phone.

without looking back you ran out the door of your shared apartment, opting to take the stairs as adrenaline ran its course.

jay was shocked, but his mind convinced him that you were standing outside the door waiting for him. how could you leave without a phone or keys?

he bid goodbye to the investors on the phone, his heart beating loud in his chest.

“haha, very funny baby.” he chuckled opening the front door hoping to see your smiling face.

instead he got an empty hallway.

that’s term panic finally settled in. running down the halls trying to find you, looking in the stairwell.

how could you just leave without your phone or keys? it was pouring outside! you could get sick! or hurt!

jay grabbed at his hair, muttering profanities to himself as he paced in the living room. again convincing himself that maybe you just went to the lobby to calm down, that you’d be back up in no time.

so he sat and waited the couch.

10:30 pm, 11:45 pm, 12:50 am, 1:30 am, time all went past, as jay alternated between the door, the clock, and his phone in hopes you’d find a phone to contact him.

at 6:30 am his phone startled him, a smile reaching his face thinking it was you. it was his alarm.

“baby,” he muttered to himself, a tear threatening its way down.

︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶

park sunghoon, jays step brother, least expected to wake up to at 10 at night due to scattered knocks from you.

seeing you drenched in rain, sunghoon sighed, opened the door for you and let you cry on his couch.

little did jay know was that you had picked up shifts at the ice skating rink sunghoon owned by working front desk. you were bored and sunghoon needed the help in between when the college students couldn’t make it.

the next morning you looked a mess compared to sunghoon’s polished look.

“you look like trash.”

you rolled your eyes drinking your hot beverage. “jeez, thanks a ton sunghoon.”

sunghoon chuckled, hoping just the slightest teasing could cheer you up. he knew about his step-brother’s workaholic tendencies and even warned him once he made it official with you to not jinx it.

you stared into nothing, last night over playing in your head. you told sunghoon everything that happened, hence why you came empty handed and without a ring.

“he’ll come to his senses.” sunghoon offered.

“even if he apologizes, it’s going to take more than that.”

︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶

days passed, and jay felt so lost not having you in his space. not having your body present. your kisses. smiles. laughs.

he realized he was neglecting you.

he met up with his friends heeseung and jake, and his step brother, sunghoon.

jay nearly started a bar fight when he smelt your scent on sunghoon. mind immediately thinking the worst he started throwing insults, sunghoon sitting quietly until jay spat an insult about you.

sunghoon punched jay.

heeseung and jake immediately interrupted.

“your drunk brother. watch yourself before you lose her for good.”

“how dare you steal my happiness from me!”

“i stole your fiancé not your business.” sunghoon smirked.

jay went to lunge at sunghoon but his friends stopped.

sunghoon didn’t want to reveal you were staying with him out of respect for you. “jay, she works for me. she came to me bored, wanting to busy herself so i offered her occasionally shifts when my handy college students couldn’t make it.”

“is she safe?” jay was on the verge of sobbing as he grabbed sunghoon by the collar.

sunghoon hates to lie. “from what i know, yes. i don’t know much other than she came to work not looking like herself.”

“can—can i see her?”

“you come on my business property and i’ll knock your teeth out.” sunghoon removed jays grip. “she’s upset, just let her work through this.”

︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶

and that you did. occasionally receiving flowers from jay at sunghoon’s business. different letters and notes with each bouquet.

baby, sunghoon threatened to knock my teeth out and i believe him. he said not to come to the property but that doesn’t mean i can’t send you flowers

baby i miss you so much. i miss your cuddles and hugs

love, i hope you’re doing ok?

and many others. he even sent his credit card with one of the notes, which you gave to sunghoon to give back to his brother.

jay was hoping you’d use it so he would know which hotel you were staying at.

he sent you your phone, which you turned on only to contact family back home, then turning it back off.

he sent you your favorite shirt of his you like to wear at night. you kept it.

jay was still losing his mind and decided a week was enough and he went to sunghoon’s rink, consequences be damned.

he stood in the shadows by his car, smiling when he saw you come out the door to throw away garbage. his smiled faded when he saw a younger man approaching you to help you lift it into the dumpster, his hand on your lower back to close to comfort.

“i thought i told you i’d knock your teeth in.” sunghoon threatened.

jay turned around pointing to the young man. “who’s that?”

“sunoo. don’t worry, he’s one of the college students and already in a relationship he has no thoughts of jeopardizing, unlike you asshat.” sunghoon gripped the back of jays neck walking him towards the drivers side. “i’ll see you at the bar.”

by the time heeseung, jake and sunghoon got to their regular bar, jay was 4 drinks in, cheeks flushed and, crying?

“i miss her so much man!” jay sobbed.

“dude, you started without us?” jake asked disappointed.

“i couldn’t handle the thoughts of missing her man, but the alcohol made it worse!” jay cried. “i haven’t been able to focus at work! embarrassing myself in front of my partners and investors!”

“yeah, we know.” heeseung and jake said in unison taking a sip of their respective drinks.

they were jays partners for the company, and never have they saw him such a mess at work. suits, socks not matching. sometimes shoes not matching. hair barely brushed. ties always crooked. he was making more mistakes than usual.

“about that, we need to talk.” heeseung cleared his throat.

“jay, we are not asking but demanding that you take some time off.” jake began.

“we can’t ruin this opportunity with important holidays coming up and the opportunity to making nearly triple what we did in the past year.”

jay sighed, emptying his cup asking the bartender for another. “how do you guys always get home before 6?”

“we have boundaries, jay.” heeseung stated. “we understand this business is important to you because of your father, but is it more important than losing your future life with someone you love?”

“jay, you have heeseung and i as partners. we share the business responsibilities and burdens. we also agree it’s time we talk with our employees and other partners to let them know we are setting boundaries for everyone’s health.”

jay listened as he continued to cry. sunghoon had begged you through text to come and get his brother before he ends up on the curb.

sunghoon-in-law: please come get jay. heeseung jake and i are about to kick him to the curb if he continues to sob like a toddler about wanting and missing you

in no time you made your way to their favorite bar knowing they really would put him to the curb.

when you said jays name, he swore he was dreaming. “it’s me jay.”

“please make sure he doesn’t vomit himself to death.” heeseung said.

when jay turned to meet your eyes, he almost cried again until sunghoon groaned. “please get him out before we get kicked out!”

you laughed, helping jay to his car, taking his keys from his pocket. thankfully jay was sorta able to walk.

the drive home was quiet other than jay ranting to himself about random things and how much of an idiot he is.

when you pulled into the apartment garage you softly shook him, he looked your way with a smile. “my angel, you’re still here.”

you smiled and nodded. “let’s get you home.”

“don’t leave me, please.” jay pouted.

“i won’t jay.”

you helped him out of the car and to the apartment. “here jay, we’re at your apartment.”

jay shook his head correcting you, “our apartment.”

you ignored his comment, walking in the home the familiar scent of jay greeting your nose. although he was a mess lately, thankfully the apartment wasn’t.

you got to the bedroom with jay noting he hadn’t made the bed.

“i didn’t make the bed—hiccup—because i know you like it done a certain way.”

you helped him into the bed. as you went to walk away to grab some water he held on tight to your hand. “you said you wouldn’t leave me.”

“i’m not jay, i’m going to get you some water.” you replied and moved his hair from his forehead.

that night you helped him take medication and get ready for bed, helping him out of his outside clothes. him giggling like a schoolboy making jokes about you getting him naked.

“sleep with me, love.”

“jay—,”

“please.” he grabbed your hand, rubbing his finger where the engagement ring should be. the scar on his cheek still healing and a reminder how he treated you.

you had no energy to argue, so you nodded and reassured you were going to change into one of his shirts and come back.

jay stayed awake until you came back to him, the ring in his hand. he slipped it back on, begging you not to take it off. you both laid side by side facing one another.

“i know i have a lot of apologizing to do, and we need to talk. but just know i care about you and our future children more than the business.” jay sighed against your lips. “for the rest of my life i’ll be making up how i treated you. my mother did not raise me that way. she would disown me if she knew the way i treated you.” jay kissed your forehead.

“go to sleep now jay, we can talk about it in the morning.”

“can we also start making babies tomorrow?”

you laughed, hitting jays shoulder. “sure jay.”’

“i love you.”

“and i love you.”

₍ᐢ. .ᐢ₎ ₊˚⊹♡

#enhypen drabbles #fanfiction #reader x jay #jay au #jay angst #engene #enhypen x reader #enhypen fanfiction #park jongseong #park sunghoon #sim jaeyun #jake sim #lee heeseung

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ilovemilestellersmoustache · 6 months ago

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Tolerate It

WC: 1.4K

Summary: You gave up your dreams for Connor, which was fine. But why can’t he at least give back what you’ve lost with at least being present.

A/N: It’s not the exact same as the song bc thats toooooooo angsty

Y/N had known Connor Bedard for as long as she could remember. They had grown up together, inseparable since they were in diapers. Their parents were close friends, and it was natural that they would be, too. Childhood friends, partners in crime, and each other's confidants, they had shared everything—their dreams, their fears, their hopes for the future. As they grew older, the bond between them only deepened. It was always easy with Connor; their friendship was effortless, built on a foundation of mutual trust and support.

It was no surprise when that friendship began to shift into something more as they hit their teenage years. The late-night conversations grew longer, the touches more lingering, and the looks more meaningful. It was unspoken at first, but eventually, Connor confessed his feelings one summer night when they were sixteen, sitting by the lake they had always gone to as kids.

“I don’t know what I’d do without you, Y/N,” he had said, his voice quiet but filled with certainty. “I mean, you’re everything to me.”

That was all it took. From that moment on, they were more than just friends—they were everything to each other.

When Connor got drafted into the NHL, it was the culmination of everything he had worked for. Y/N was there at the draft, her heart swelling with pride as his name was called. It was a dream come true for him, but there was a bittersweet undertone. Y/N had gotten into her dream university, too—across the country. They had always known this moment was coming, but that didn’t make it any easier.

The days leading up to their inevitable separation were filled with unspoken tension. They tried to act like everything was normal, like they could handle the distance, but the reality of being apart hung over them like a storm cloud. Connor was set to move to Chicago, and Y/N was supposed to head to California.

It was the night before Y/N was supposed to leave when Connor finally broke. They were sitting in his car, parked in front of her house, the silence between them heavy.

“I can’t do it,” he said suddenly, his voice strained.

Y/N turned to him, her heart clenching at the look on his face. He looked lost, desperate, like he was barely holding it together.

“Connor—”

“Don’t go,” he whispered, reaching out to take her hand. “I know it’s selfish, but I need you here with me. I don’t want to be without you.”

Her heart pounded in her chest as she stared at him, torn between her dreams and the boy she had loved for so long. She knew how much playing in the NHL meant to Connor, but she hadn’t realized how much her presence meant to him. She was his rock, his constant. And as much as it hurt to give up her dream, she couldn’t bear the thought of leaving him like this, knowing how much he needed her.

So she stayed.

Y/N transferred to a university in Chicago, and for a while, everything seemed perfect. Connor was thriving in the league, making waves as a rookie, and Y/N was doing well in her new school. They were together, and that was all that mattered. They had made it through the toughest decision of their lives, and things were going well.

Until they weren’t.

It started slowly, in ways that Y/N could almost convince herself weren’t a big deal. Connor was always busy—more and more "team activities" kept him out late, and she was no longer invited. She would see the other girlfriends and wives at events and wonder why she was being left out. At first, she brushed it off, thinking it was just the demands of his career. She told herself that the NHL was a whole different world, and maybe she just wasn’t meant to be a part of that aspect of his life.

But as the days turned into weeks, and the weeks into months, Y/N began to feel the cracks in their relationship widening. She would wait by the door for him to come home, feeling like a little kid waiting for a parent who never showed up. Sometimes she would set the table with their nicest dishes, hoping for a quiet dinner together, only for Connor to come home hours late, too tired to even notice her efforts.

Each missed dinner, each late-night out without her, each forgotten promise—it all added up, piece by piece, until Y/N felt like she was drowning in her own loneliness. She didn’t know how to talk to him about it. How could she? He was now Connor Bedard, the NHL star, with the weight of the world on his shoulders. How could she add her own pain to that pressure?

Besides, she had given up everything for him—her dream university, her own future. She had sacrificed it all because she loved him, and she wanted to believe that it had been the right choice. But now, as she sat alone in their apartment, night after night, she began to wonder if Connor even noticed how much she had given up for him.

One night, after yet another evening spent waiting for Connor to come home, Y/N reached her breaking point. She had spent hours preparing a special dinner again, hoping this time her makes it home in time for some time to reconnect with him. But when he finally walked through the door, hours later than expected, he barely acknowledged her. His face was tired, his eyes distant, and when she asked about his day, he gave her nothing but short, distracted answers.

She couldn’t take it anymore.

“Connor,” she said quietly, her voice trembling. “Do you even care anymore?”

He looked up, startled by the intensity in her voice. “What? Y/N. I’ve just been—”

“Busy?” she finished for him, her frustration spilling over. “You’re always busy, Connor. But you’re never busy with me. I don’t even know what’s going on in your life anymore.”

Connor frowned, looking uncomfortable. “It’s just… the team, the pressure, it’s a lot.”

“And I’m supposed to just sit here and wait for you? To figure it out by yourself? We’ve always gotten through things together Connor. I just get why you won’t let me in anymore. Why I feel like I’m not even a relevant presence in your life. It just feels like I’m begging for footnotes about anything you do anymore.” Y/N’s voice broke. “I gave up everything for you, Connor. And I was fine with that. That was my inevitable decision. I just thought we were in this together, but it feels like I’m just… here. Like I’m only around for when you need someone. What happened to us?”

He ran a hand through his hair, clearly at a loss for words. “Y/N, I asked you to give up your dreams for me but only because—”

“Because what Connor. What. If you’re implying for support that cannot be further from the truth. You’ve been so distant like I’m not even here.” she interrupted, her voice raw with emotion, eyes widening as she never meant to actually say it out loud “Maybe you didn’t think that decision through, but you had asked me to stay. I think you were just scared to not have anyone for the first time in your life. And I was too, that’s why I stayed, but also because I love you. But now, I don’t even know if that means anything to you.”

There was a long, heavy silence between them. Connor looked at her, his face torn between guilt and frustration, but he said nothing. And that silence—his inability to reassure her, to tell her that he still loved her, still needed her—spoke louder than any words could.

Y/N felt something inside her shatter.

In the weeks that followed, things between them grew even more strained. Y/N tried to talk to him, tried to salvage what was left of their relationship, but Connor seemed more distant than ever. It was as if he had retreated into himself, caught up in the demands of his career, while Y/N was left alone to pick up the pieces of what they once had.

The worst part was that she couldn’t bring herself to leave him. She had come so far, sacrificed so much, and the thought of walking away felt like admitting defeat. She loved him—she had always loved him—but she was beginning to realize that love wasn’t enough. Not when it was one-sided. Not when she felt more like an afterthought than a partner. Her loved should of been celebrated, but it seemed like he just tolerated it

One night, after yet another fight that ended in silence, Y/N sat on their bed, staring at the ceiling. She couldn’t keep living like this, couldn’t keep pretending that everything was okay when it clearly wasn’t. But leaving him—it would destroy him. She knew that much. He assumed she was fine, that she was content to be there for him, to support him no matter what. But what would he do if she broke free, if she finally walked away and left them both in ruins?

Y/N closed her eyes, feeling the weight of the decision pressing down on her. She didn’t know what to do. All she knew was that something had to change—before it was too late. But deep down she knew what she needed to do.

#connor bedard #connor bedard imagine #connor bedard x reader #jack hughes x reader #quinn hughes x reader #trevor zegras x reader #chicago blackhawks #jack hughes #luke hughes x reader #nhl x reader #matt rempe x reader #quinn hughes #umich hockey #Spotify

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phantomskeep · 8 months ago

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The Early Bird Gets The Worm - Chapter 1

The Early Bird Gets The Worm

Chapter 1 - 9 Out 10 Doctors Prescribe Child Rearing for Emotionally Constipated Families

Written by @agent-sushi-fbi & myself uwu

Read it on AO3 here!

Masterpost | Chapter Two Was he still wearing traffic light colors? No. Was Bruce going senile as he got older? Yes, and he was gathering evidence of it every day.

Dick wondered once again why they were having so many issues between them as he swung to the next rooftop, landing almost gracefully amongst the leftover rain on the asphalt. Stumbling on his feet was embarrassing nonetheless and he grumbled to himself as he kicked a pebble across the roof, watching as it hit an old AC unit with a hollow clang. Honestly, he came to Gotham to help Bruce out of the goodness of his heart while Tim is out of town and how does the man respond? By treating him like he's still a little Robin meant to dutifully take orders without question!

“Fucking old man, treating me like I'm a kid,” Dick muttered under his breath, not caring who heard him nearby, he was alone on the roof anyway.

“This ‘fucking old man’ can still hear you,” Batman’s deadpan voice came over the line. Dick froze on the spot, shoulders tightening as he heard the quiet undertones of anger. Oops, comms were still on and open to the shared channel… “Either mute your comms or keep those thoughts to yourself, Nightwing.”

Dick pondered for a minute, putting his hand on his chin like he was really thinking on the idea before he responded. “Nope, I'll pass,” he told Batman cheekily, smirking to himself. He was an adult now. While Bruce may have taken him in and taught him all he knew at Dick's lowest point, it doesn't mean the man gets to treat him like a child anytime he comes by home Gotham.

He was his own grown man. Nightwing had his own city to protect now–he was even a well-established member of the hero community in his own right! He didn’t need some emo flying furry telling him what to do anymore. Covering his eyes from the light drizzle that had picked up again, he observed the area below him, staying alert for any sort of disturbance that may pop up and ignoring Bruce’s displeased grunts. It wouldn’t be good if Dick were to miss a crime after their little “spat” earlier, as Aflred would call it. A screaming match was a more accurate description if you asked anyone else, and he was not willing to let it open him up to more criticism from the “World’s Greatest Detective” later on when they were back in the Cave.

Stiffly, the black and blue clad vigilante stalked to the edge of the darkened rooftop, trying his best to not clench his fists like some angsty teenager. What was he even hoping to gain, coming back here? The man stood, pondering as he gazed down at the busy streets of his childhood home. A pat on the head, like the good little dog he was acting like? Bruce calls, so he comes running? Dick scoffed at himself, turning his head sharply. He aimed his grapple, firing it at the corner of a nearby building. With the grace born from years of practice, Nightwing danced between towering structures as he continued his Batman-approved patrol route.

“Nightwing, behave yourself over comms or you will go back to the Cave for the night.” Dick grit his teeth, jaw clenched tight as Bruce tried to basically ground him. He shook his head, preparing to land on the next rooftop, but stopping just shy to grab onto a gargoyle sitting on the edge of a lower office building. Leaning against the cold surface, Dick felt the sharp points of the creature’s horns digging into his back help to ground him in the moment.

“Batman, you do not have a say over my actions or whether I am benched anymore,” Dick told him, evenly spacing out his breaths as he tried to keep the rage at bay. He felt like there was a ball of heat in his chest he was desperately trying to cool as he methodically rubbed his gloved fingers over the stone ridges of the statue's ugly face.

“Nightwing–” Bruce started to grunt, so Dick turned off his comms as a response and took in a deep breath of the familiar, smoggy Gotham air. This city may not have been where he was born, and he may not live here anymore, but the man found peace flying through her night sky. This would always be his home. As ugly and villain-infested as it may be… This shithole was his shithole.

Ever since Jason passed, Dick knew things needed to change so he could preserve this feeling and keep this dysfunctional family intact. Tim helped a lot in the beginning, when Dick was too bitter to do more than practically tell a thirteen-year-old to handle a drunkard on his own. But, he's trying to make up for it now by helping on patrol and making them all participate in family dinners twice a month. It wasn't much, and he could admit it wasn't really working since he'd noticed Tim wearing sound proof headphones more often than not when Dick and Bruce were together. It broke his heart that another little brother of his felt like he needed to prepare himself for an inevitable screaming match from his family members.

Dick was trying, he really was. But Bruce just made everything so hard.

He was brought out of his thoughts by the sound of multiple trash cans falling over each other nearby. His face twisted in confusion, eyebrows scrunching together as his head whipped around to find the source of the noise. Body becoming a tightly coiled spring of focused intent, he silently crept closer to where he heard the cacophony. The noise became apparent in the way of a metal lid rolling out of the alley below and into the street like a quarter, spinning and spinning for a moment before falling flat. Dick cautiously peered over the edge of the roof, eyebrow raised at what he could imagine he'd find. A goon passed out drunk? A working girl kicking the nuts of a deadbeat harassing her? An internet famous Gotham-patented radioactive raccoon?

What he certainly did not expect was an unruly mop of black hair peeking out above the trash cans, only visible against the dark of night in contrast to the silver metal they clung to with tiny baby hands. He watched in disbelief as this child (so tiny and cute, he had to admit) stumbled to their feet, swaying as little as they reached for the contents of the trash. Dick felt sick just looking at the spill, but he felt worse knowing the child was doing this out of desperation. Tapping on his lenses, they zoomed in on the kid and he saw how small they were and how scrawny they looked. Alfred would faint at the sight of how skinny this child was and Dick would be right there with the old butler.

Making a quick decision, Dick hastily hopped onto a pipe that clung to the building he stood on and quietly slid down it like a fireman's pole. He didn't want to scare the small child who, at closer inspection now that he was on the ground, looked similarly disgusted at their options before them. The kid was still swaying, the movement picking up in speed before they plopped onto the asphalt, groaning.

Dick rushed forward, panicking, but his sudden burst of speed startled the child. The tiny twig of a human scrambled back, a weakened wheeze of panic bursting from their lungs as they held out a small hand to ward off the vigilante.

“Hey, hey now,” Dick soothed as he crouched down to make himself seem smaller. “It’s okay, you’re okay…I’m not gonna hurt you.” The practiced “soothe the victim” voice was easy to fall into as domino-covered eyes worryingly took in the shaking child. He wanted to reassure this kid as much as possible, but he knew that he couldn't promise them anything. Making a promise to a child was important, he learned young that if you couldn't keep that promise the child would see it as a loss of trust.

“S-stay back!” The kid’s squeaky voice tugged at Dick’s heartstrings with how much terror it held. “Yo-you can’t t-take me!”

Dick slowly lowered himself to fully sit down on the filthy, trash-covered alley. He grimaced at the smell (was that sludge on his glove?) and he crossed his legs, letting his arms hang disarmingly on his knees. Keeping his body language loose and unassuming, Dick smiled goofily at the other. “My name’s Nightwing, I’m one of the heroes here in Gotham tonight. You’re safe now, no one’s going to take you while I'm here.”

Icy blue eyes peered out from behind a dirt-stained hand, reminding Dick of a different time, a different alley-found kid who was taken too soon. By Batman's stinky cowl would he let another one be lost to the horrors of this city as well. When the kid spoke, their voice was full of doubt. “How can I trust you? For all I know you could be some weirdo looking to kidnap me!”

A surprised laugh burst from Dick before he could contain himself, causing the filthy child to flinch away with a startled squeak. He sobered up quickly at that reaction however, leaning away from the kid to give the illusion Dick was no longer directly in their space, but still close enough to keep an eye on them. He's met children like this before, wary of adults or the world around them in general, only relying on themselves at an age where they can't do enough to keep their heads above water. Blinking rapidly at the thought to hold back his tears, Dick remembered when Jason first came to the manor. Even as distant as he was with his brother at the time, he saw how the pre-teen acted out of self preservation even months into Alfred's mother-henning.

This kid had the same fear written in the lines on his young face, as well as the same steel of determination in his eyes. Dick respected it, but he still was worried about this child who looked like they hadn't eaten a proper meal or slept in a bed in months.

“I might be a weirdo to some people for sure,” Dick agreed casually. The kid blinked in surprise and he grinned a little in triumph, quickly smothering it with a serious expression. Exaggerating his actions, Dick twisted his head this way and that around the alley as though checking for anyone listening in, before he leaned a little bit forward with his hand blocking his mouth. The child shuffled forward a few inches, alternating between staring him down and checking the alley themselves with wide eyes. Dick resisted the urge to laugh again, focusing on trying to ease the kid into believing that he was safe.

“Between you and me? My friends think I'm a super big weirdo for putting peach jam in my pb & j's,” he told the kid, nodding his head sagely. All he got was a deadpan look in response, all of the sudden interest he got was lost from the kid before him.

“So you're not just a weirdo, but also super lame with no taste buds?”

Wow, okay, so Dick was a little offended… or maybe he was impressed? The kid gave him a look that was reminiscent of Alfred or Jason when he tried to argue he could help in the kitchen. The “are you seriously this stupid to defend yourself like that” look.

Yeah, maybe a little more offended than anything. Didn't mean the kid wasn't cute while doing it.

Quick thinking made Dick grab at his uniform with striped fingers, gripping the fabric around his heart. “Ouch!” He wailed dramatically, flopping his legs forward as he used his toned core muscles to lean backwards, careful to not let more of the filthy alley touch him. “Ah! Truly a strong opponent, I cannot win!”

Quiet giggles echoed around the alley, causing Dick to grin in triumph. He titled his head to the side a bit to better see the small child. Their face was scrunched up in mirth, both hands covering their mouth in an attempt to better muffle the joyful sounds trying to escape. Encouraged by this, Dick resolved to continue to give the best performance of his life.

“I will simply never recover,” Dick moaned, making his body twitch dramatically. “This is how I die…the great Nightwing, struck down in a battle of wits by a toddler!” He gasped, reaching one hand up to the sky as he gave his big finale. “I can…see the light! It’s calling me…must…go…” He murmured quietly before giving a final spasm with an extremely convincing “blegh”, letting his arm drop to his chest and sticking his tongue out of his mouth.

As the giggles continued, they got closer. Peaking an eye open just a bit, Dick could see the kid toddling closer to the felled hero. “You’re silly,” they said, poking at Dick’s cheek hesitantly. “That’s not what death looks like.”

Dick could feel his heart shatter. This kid, no more than, what? Maybe four or five years old? This poor, tiny child was trying to correct Dick on what dying looked like. It made Bludhaven’s protector want to just scoop them up and wrap them up in a giant, fluffy blanket and protect them from the world.

“It’s a good thing I’m not actually dead then, huh?” Dick said with a grin, trying so hard to not let what he was feeling filter through. Bright smile for the tiny concerning child, bright smile.

The child cocked their head to the side like a curious puppy. “Well, duh,” the little thing scoffed, relaxing a bit at the horizontal hero. “I'd know it if you were actually dead.”

*****************

He really needed to get some meat on this kid’s bones, like immediately. Dick felt like he was carrying a small bag of potatoes while he grappled through the streets of downtown Gotham towards Wayne Enterprises to meet B for their patrol check in. Maybe if he showed the kid to Alfred, he could just keep him safe at the manor and he wouldn't worry about the tiny thing in his arms being so tiny anymore.

“Where are we going?” A squeaky voice shouted in his left ear. Was there a ringing bell nearby?

Dick smirked, glancing quickly at the child before shooting his gun at the side of Wayne Enterprises, clicking the side button and rocketing them up the side of the skyscraper. He heard a soft gasp over the rush of wind before his world was filled with small, uncontrollable giggles and Dick tightened his hold.

“We gotta meet up with someone, little one!” He cheerfully shouted back as the duo landed at the top of the tower. With his feet squarely against solid concrete, Dick set the child down to face away from the large drop off the side of the building. He was worried the kid would either get scared, or want to try jumping off and he wasn't sure which was worse right now. A quick glance around told Dick that Bruce was still doing his own patrol. “Just stay away from the edge, okay?”

“Yeah, yeah,” the little sass monster said as they shakily walked towards the center of the helipad. “I’m not dumb.”

“Uh huh,” Dick sassed back as he hovered over the kid. “You wanna tell me your name yet?”

Cold eyes narrowed as the child looked up at Dick. “No, you’re still a weirdo.”

Yikes, Dick thought. Whoever this kid's parents were deserved an award for raising such a menace to society. “Okay, okay,” he said airly. “I’ll figure it out one day, just you watch.”

“Oh, so now you’re a stalker, too?” The kid said as they flopped onto the concrete flooring. “Maybe I should’ve run away. Stranger danger and all that nonsense.” They flapped an itty-bitty hand dismissively.

“I thought we established that I wasn’t a stranger already?” Dick wasn’t pouting. He was an adult, and adults don’t pout at children winning in a battle of sass.

“No, we just established that you don’t know what it looks like when people die. Do you even pay attention to anything?”

Dick rolled his eyes, sauntering over to nudge his foot against the kid's thigh. “I paid enough attention to notice that you're good at avoiding questions. Why is that?”

“Nunya,” they told him. Dick felt the urge to pinch the bridge of his nose. No, he would not act like Bruce.

“Nope, I'm not playing that one,” Dick told the kid, who pouted that they couldn't finish the joke. “Come on, I can't keep calling you ‘kid’ or ‘that tiny child lighter than a grape’ now can I?”

They squinted at Dick, crossing their arms awkwardly since they seemed to refuse moving from their starfish position on the ground. “Rude. You talk to every kid you meet like that?”

Dick smirked, “Just the ones who think they’re tall enough to talk back? Where do you reach on me again?” Dick mimed checking the kid's height against himself and stopped with it below his knees. Was it petty to make fun of the small child’s height? Yes, but he didn’t care. “Oh right, sorry but you're not tall enough to verbally attack this adult.”

“Whatever,” they muttered, turning away from Dick. But he noticed the kid kept him within their peripheral vision, just enough of an angle to pretend they couldn't see Dick even if his every movement was being tracked by blue eyes. It was just like how Jason acted, back when he was first introduced to life in the manor. Luckily, that meant that Dick had more than enough experience with snotty scared children to make sure this one kept feeling safe around him.

“So,” Dick said after a few moments of silence. “Like I said earlier, we’re gonna be meeting up with someone. But what I didn't mention was that it's Batman.”

“What kind of name is that?” The kid said, their spunk seemingly reviving itself in the few minutes where they didn’t speak. “Who wakes up one morning and decides to name their kid things like Nightwing and Batman?”

Dick spluttered. “It’s a superhero name, kid. It’s meant to not be normal.”

“You should’ve been named Jeff. Now Jeff is a good name.”

Dick paused, scrunched his nose a little in confusion before responding. “So, do you want me to call you Jeff since you like it so much?”

The kid scoffed, not fully paying attention and obviously still insulting him mentally. “Pffsh, no, call me Danny because my name isn't Jeff, stupid.”

Dick smiled like the cat who ate the canary. “Well, well, Danny is such a nice name,” he told Danny. Dick was enjoying the expression on his face when he realized that he messed up, the horror seeping into his features and a devastated tilt to his lips as he turned to Dick. “Thank you for telling me, now is Danny short for anything?”

Danny pouted and it was so cute Dick wanted to coo and squish his little cheeks. “No, just Danny, you weirdo.”

“No last name?” Dick prodded, poking at Danny’s thigh.

“You’re subtle.”

“And you’re going to answer!” Dick cheerfully said, walking around to stand at the front of the black-haired boy.

“You can’t make me do anything,” Danny glared up at Dick, arms still crossed. “You’re not my dad.”

Dick wasn't sure why that comment stung unlike the others, but he moved past it. He scoffed obnoxiously and mimicked Danny's pose, jutting his hip out in a move of pure sass. “Well I may not be but–”

“Nightwing.”

Dick froze with whatever bullshit he'd pull out of his ass dying on his lips. He saw Danny raise a questioning eyebrow at the scene, clearly interested in the drama, but Dick didn't focus on it. Instead, like always, he responded to Batman's voice. It didn't matter he wasn't Robin anymore and someone else held the title, it didn't matter he was all grown up and had his own name now. When Batman called, a Robin always whistled back, standing at attention like the “good little soldiers” they were.

Sighing, he turned around and put his hands behind his back, feet spread apart as he nodded at Batman. Because this wasn't his father figure, the man who raised him despite the emotional intelligence of an ant. This was Batman, who didn't take disappointment or inadequacy from his sidekicks. No matter what happens, we'll always be little soldiers reporting for duty, won't we?

“Batman, no unusual activity for the night. There were the two robberies I reported on patrol, as well as stopping a street girl from being taken into an alley and shot. Oracle has the recordings from my suit already uploaded for review.” Simple, to the point, just the way Bruce liked it. All done.

“Hrn.”

What? What did he forget?

“Hey! Why do you go around with your underwear outside your pants like that?” Danny interrupted.

Oh…right, he forgot about Danny for a minute there.

The silence across the rooftop was louder than any words shouted into the night sky could be. Dick tensed as he shifted, covering more of Danny from Batman's view as he watched the man's cowl wrinkle up. Internally he winced, wishing he had honestly thought this out better but at the time, he had only been focused on gaining Danny's trust. Once he had it, something in him wouldn't let the kid go and, frankly, he didn't want to. But in hindsight, this was definitely not one of his best ideas. He snorted lightly, thinking Jason would have made fun of him for being an idiot right now–like the time he tried to catch a runaway ice cream cart and slipped into a pile of cold sugar that spilled on the ground instead.

“Why do you have a civilian child here, Nightwing?” Batman practically growled, causing Dick to frown and tense his shoulders in a defensive response. He knew the man had been having problems since Jason's death. Tim had been trying his best to help Bruce out of a dark place, but sometimes he seemed to fall back into those old, angrier patterns on them. It was not appreciated, but he knew it took time to work through grief. It was small mercies the man wasn't sending people to the hospital or himself into an early grave on the daily anymore.

He cleared his throat awkwardly. “Well, during my patrol I noticed a disturbance in an alley and–”

“He met me! So, why are you looking at Nightwing like he's a bad guy, Batman? Aren't you two friends?” Danny popped up at his side all of a sudden. Dick startled, quickly shooting a glance at where the boy had been five feet away and he wondered at how he didn't hear so much as a squeak until Danny spoke. “You shouldn't be mean to your friends,” he nodded sagely at his own words and Dick held in a snort of amusement. “That's what she always used to tell me.”

Dick paused. Danny hadn't mentioned anyone he knew before now. Ignoring Batman's glowering, he tilted his head down to catch Danny's eyes. But the kid was gazing past them both, the bright blue dulling in the throes of some kind of possible memory. Telegraphing his movements slowly, Dick lightly touched the tips of his fingers to Danny's shoulder and whispered his name. “Danny? You okay in there, bud?”

It took a moment for the kid to shake his head like an old, wet dog, blinking slowly and gazing back at Dick. He nodded, glancing down at his tiny hands as though they held all of the answers to the universe’ most difficult questions. “Yeah, I’m good. Why?”

“You spaced out there a little bit,” Dick carefully told him. He watched Danny’s eyebrow’s furrow and mentally debated pushing. He was curious if the child would open up to him a little despite the hulking bat furry standing behind him like a living shadow. Cautiously, he held his hand a little more firmly on Danny’s shoulder and asked him what he was wondering. “Danny, who is this ‘she’ you mentioned?”

“Uhh…” Danny stalled, titling his head and giving an awkward smile that was barely more than a tick of the lips and didn’t reach his eyes. “I don’t know?”

“Alright, kiddo.” Dick murmured, a bit disheartened hearing the response, but doing his best to not show it. He gave a sharp nod and turned his head to look at his mentor. “But, yeah, B he’s right. Shouldn’t you be nicer to me?”

“You’re endangering a child, Nightwing.” Batman growled, disapproval practically flowing off the man. It took years upon years for Dick to understand the different levels of Bruce’s inflections and what they meant, like learning a whole new language. But now? It was clear as day to him looking at the man. The big, bad bat was pissed and disappointed at his oldest protege’s actions. Dick tried to not let it hurt him (and show on his face) as much as it did.

But he also felt a flare of anger swell up in his chest. Indignant, Dick stepped forward, close enough to block Danny completely from Batman's sight and get in the Dark Knight’s face. “You want to talk about endangering children, B? You would know all about that, wouldn't you? Picking us up off the streets like party favors.”

Dick shook his head, a scoff falling from his lips as his hands vibrated with the anger now burning his veins at the hypocrisy of the moment. A quick tug to his leg made him stumble though, and he almost fell when Danny barged past him. A cry on the tip of his tongue, Dick watched as the little tyke stomped over to Batman and crossed his tiny arms.

“Hey! He may be a total weirdo, but Nightwing is really nice and he's been taking good care of me!” Danny pointed a finger at Batman and Dick realized with dawning horror and amusement that this child was lecturing B, for him. He felt his heart beat as tears pricked the corners of his eyes. “So you stop bullying him right now!”

“Kid,” B started gruffly, reaching a hand to grab him, probably. But Danny smacked his gloved hand away and took a shaky step back. He stumbled over his feet closer to where a stunned Dick stood, gaping at the scene before him.

“NO! I DON'T WANT YOU TO TOUCH ME, I DON'T CARE WHAT YOU SAY! HE'S NOT NICE!” Danny shouted at the top of his lungs, shaking arms firmly clung to either side of him. His body faced Batman, but his head was turned to a spot just over the man's shoulder. The kid started swaying side to side again, and Dick knew that tears were welling in Danny’s eyes even if he couldn’t see the boy’s face.

Dick scrambled forward, recognizing the signs from earlier. The vigilante caught the child in his arms and pulled out his grapple gun. “We will discuss this more later, at the Cave. But right now Danny is upset, so I'm going to take him to Agent A. For the rest of the night, you're on your own.”

He whispered comforting nonsense to the shaking, brooding child in his arms as he walked away and didn't look back. Not even when Danny heavily propped his chin on Dick's shoulder to keep an eye on Batman as they left. “What was all that about Danny? Who were you yelling at?”

Dick was sure Danny wasn’t talking to Bruce at that time, his head had been tilted too far to the left and he spoke as though he were talking about Bruce to someone else. But no one had been there. It made him a little concerned he might have something in his system and resolved to have Alfred examine him after they got some real food into Danny.

Danny cut him a quick glance out of the corner of his eye, not bothering to move his head’s position and smirked maliciously. If he didn't think everything about this kid was adorable, he'd probably be unnerved at the expression, paired with little baby fangs poking past his lips he hadn’t noticed earlier. Danny replied to him, but in a loud enough voice so that it would carry across the roof to where they left Bruce, no doubt standing guard as he watched them leave.

“I was talking to the ghosts that follow him, duh.”

#dc x dp #dp x dc #dpxdc #dcxdp #danny phantom #dick grayson #dick adopts danny #danny is a feral trash gremlin #Patrol Partners 2024 Participant #Patrol Partners 2024 Event #batfam #fanfiction #dc x dp fic #danny fenton #deaged danny fenton #shock surprise hes still rabid

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daryl-dixon-daydreams · 2 months ago

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"You have to stop," you murmured to Negan in an undertone. "Whatever you're planning—don't. Just keep your head down and maybe all of us will get out of here alive." You glanced over your shoulder and could see that the warden was watching you and Negan.

Negan couldn't help smiling. "Since when do you give a shit about lil ol' me?" he asked, turning back toward his tray.

You sighed. "Shit, I'm not willing to stand by as you get yourself fucking killed. I don't like you, but I'm still not gonna let you get killed over your angsty ass bullshit," you insisted.

Negan chuckled again and you felt his hazel eyes on you, flickering over your features. That little smile was still on his face. "Angsty ass bullshit?" he repeated.

"Yeah."

"Is that what you think this is about? And not me trying to pay restitution for past misdeeds? Or maybe I just can't carry this crushing, weighty guilt anymore, doll."

You glanced up at him and his eyes met yours. "That's what I said. 'Angsty ass bullshit.'"

Negan just continued to smile at you.

You leaned slightly toward him, stealing another glance at the warden over your shoulder. "It's not as if I'm having a good time in here either, Negan. But we'll get out of it. All of us. Without you having to do something entirely stupid and rash. So, just—keep your head down and your mouth shut, for once in your fucking life."

Negan scooped up a large bite of the brown concoction on his tray and his smile widened. "I think I'm starting to grow on you."

"Oh my God," you muttered, rolling your eyes. Prompt: "Shit, I'm not willing to stand by as you get yourself fucking killed. I don't like you, but I'm still not gonna let you get killed over your angsty ass bullshit." A/N: Happy Wicked Wednesday!

#twd fanfics #fanfics #writers of tumblr #twd drabbles #negan smith #negan imagines #negan drabbles #wicked wednesday #negan smith x reader #negan smith x you #negan x y/n #negan fics #the walking dead #negan twd

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galaxiasgreen · 1 month ago

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🍭☀️A Cruelty Vivid and Sweet

Slow burn angsty Ominis x F!Reader [T-Rated, 11.5k words]

"You're... beautiful," he whispered. A croaking huff emerged from your lips. "Flatterer. You don't know what I look like. I could be ugly. As ugly as a troll, for all you know." "Impossible." He reached up, drew the back of his fingers across your cheek. "Your soul is too beautiful for the outside not to match."

In which, with Sebastian imprisoned and you battling your own demons, Ominis tries to win back your affection.

Tropes: angst/ romance/ drama, slow burn, black cat x golden retriever, opposites attract, forbidden love, pure-blood culture, canon rewrite, book!canon compliant, comas, coarse language, flirting, Christmas parties, mistletoe kisses, typical Victorian attitudes, Parseltongue is Sexy, Gaunt family issues.

MASTERLIST | FIRST | PREV | NEXT AO3 | Wattpad

8. Flirtations

Most of the train ride to Hogwarts, he was mercilessly alone.

The demons of last year still haunted him. Sebastian was in Azkaban, Anne was gone, you had mental battles to overcome. He was recovering from the wounds of his losses, all of them, having stricken his mortal flesh to bloodied pulp. Nothing could happen that was worse than last year, and that was the only thing that staved off his anxieties about sixth year. About going back, pretending everything was fine.

About his newfound isolation in this terrible, cruel world.

After the Hogwarts Express left the station in York, the compartment door slid open as he was reading, trying to distract himself. That aura of power wafted inside at once.

"Hello, Missy."

"Good afternoon, Ominis." She sounded well. "May I?"

"By all means."

He did like solitude, introverted as he was, but he also appreciated that Missy had come to keep him company when his thoughts were threatening to engulf him. Missy settled her belongings – then immediately unbuckled her bag, taking out a book of her own.

"We didn't get much chance to talk during the trial. I suppose Sebastian told you I was working on an appeal? I've been scouring through old case records lately."

"Missy," he said, "it's not even the first day back."

"I'm aware. Now, I've made some decent progress—"

"And I'm certain Sebastian told you that you shouldn't dedicate all your free time to appealing his case."

The book clapped shut. "I argued about that with him."

"I'll bet you did."

"You agree that it was unfair."

"It was," he said, "but we also have school to focus on, our lives. Don't spend the entire year trying to free him. Otherwise you'll end up like him last year, searching for that cure."

Missy hesitated. Then, "Yes, all right."

Her and her Slytherin ambition. He had to admire it, at least. Sebastian had a good person fighting in his corner.

They exchanged usual small talk. Her summer, it turned out, had been mostly spent between her new lodgings in the Yorkshire Dales – Professor Fig had bequeathed his cottage to her in his will – and Hogsmeade, from where resided many of her friends who'd helped her prepare material for Sebastian's trial. It was thanks to them, she said, that Sebastian wasn't imprisoned for life.

"I visited Hogwarts when I was there, too," she said. "I met with Gibby a few times."

Inevitably your name came up – and always, with Missy, with that wily undertone.

"I take it she's on board?"

"With Natty and Garreth," she paused, "and Leander."

It filled him with a distinct sense of embarrassment that you could bear to be around Leander Prewett more than your old best friend.

"Ominis—"

"I'm glad she's settling back into normal ways," he said, cutting her off.

Thankfully, she left it at that.

This year promised to be a turning point in his life. His old friendship group was fractured beyond repair, and without Sebastian, Anne, and you, he had no one in which to find safety and comfort. He would be alone, lonely. There was Missy, of course, but she had plenty of her own friends – the caverns were proof of that – and that left him adrift, too late to start making new connections.

At least, that's what he thought, ten days into term.

"Hey, Gaunt!"

Ominis perked up. The Great Hall had emptied after lunch – he was thumbing through his Arithmancy textbook before the class when the bench groaned next to him.

"Garreth," he said, apprehensive. "What do you want?"

"Nothing at all," said Garreth; he sounded genuinely cheerful. "I noticed you were alone and thought I'd say hello. What are you reading?"

"Theories of Numerology."

"Sounds dreadful."

"It's actually riveting," Ominis said, deadpan, "and I'd quite like to get back to it, if you have nothing else to say."

If Garreth was offended at his bluntness, he didn't sound it. "If you must know, I did actually want to ask about the trial. I was surprised at what you said about Sebastian – the first parts, when you answered their questions, was that written for you?"

Ominis furrowed his brow. "Yes."

"Parents, I presume?"

"Yes."

"Ooo. Nasty."

"You really waited this long to ask me about Sebastian's trial?"

"Hey, I'm not afraid to admit I'm slow, and my aunt's got me helping this Ravenclaw girl with Potions, so what little brainpower I have is already being drained." Unfortunately he only sank further into the table, making no attempt to leave. "Don't suppose you've done the History of Magic essay?"

"... You mean the one due tomorrow?"

"Yeah."

"I'm not letting you copy it."

"Damn— I mean, right, that's fine."

And though it pained him to say it, he mumbled, "Gibby is excellent at the subject. She will help you. Quite likely will let you copy from her, too, though you didn't hear that from me."

"Oh, er, yeah," said Garreth. "Thanks."

Ominis was silent.

"Well," and the boy clapped him on the shoulder. "See you around? Er, not literally, of course. You know what I mean."

He skedaddled. That, Ominis thought, was suspicious. Tellingly his first thought was that Leander had sent him to spy, but no, that was ridiculous. Leander may have vied for your affections, but neither would he stoop that low, nor was he intelligent enough to think of such an idea.

Yet it was a puzzle Ominis couldn't finagle, and Garreth continued to pester him like that for the next few weeks. He was no Sebastian, but they carried themselves similarly – bright and bold and chomping off more than they could chew. Together they were a dynamic duo of troublemakers, especially in Potions, but whilst Sebastian was like a storm, Garreth was more like a restless sunbeam on a balmy spring day.

"I think it's nice," said Missy to him, one frosty weekend morning in October, when most people were out of the common room. "That you have a new friend."

Ominis leant back on the high-backed chair. "He's not my friend. He wants something, I just know it. Homework, or potions ingredients."

"He's my friend," she remarked. "I can vouch for him. He's a genuinely good person."

"I'm sure he's delightful."

"It can't hurt to have more friends, Ominis, have an open mind." She cleared her throat. "Which... brings me to something."

"More trial research?"

"No." She moved her chair closer and, to his surprise, cast the Imperturbable charm, creating a bubble that blocked out all sound. "I have something I'd like to tell you. About ancient magic."

He put aside his textbooks. "And that is?"

"I can see it around you. Around the others, too, that came to the caverns."

His awareness shifted then, as if trying to sense it floating around him, but when he felt nothing out of the ordinary, his lips buttoned.

"Is it... bad?"

"No. Mere wisps, really, but it's been there since the repository. I know I should've told you earlier, but with everything going on, with Fig and Gibby and Sebastian ..." She cleared her throat. "I've been hearing things, seeing things a lot since then, too."

"How so? What are you seeing?"

"Memories, from centuries ago. During the Tudor period."

His brow furrowed. "Was that not..."

"When Isidora Morganach was alive? Yes. I... I believe these are the memories and emotions of the students she stole from."

Which now lived in her body.

"That does not sound healthy."

"It's been harmless."

"So far." He tapped his wand on his thigh. "You absorbed a great deal of that magic. How do you know it will not... overwhelm you?"

"I don't. Without Fig we know very little about this magic I possess. I'm learning about it as you are." That wasn't an answer, but she seemed aware of that. "I'm only telling you because— I suppose I'm looking for solidarity."

"I can hardly provide solidarity for something I don't understand," he said, then added, "I won't tell another soul about it."

"Thank you. I mean that, sincerely."

That did beg the question, though. Why had her strange ancient magic attached itself to him? To the others? Was it simply because they'd held her when she absorbed the repository? Was it his own ancient magic, waking from inside him?

"If the visions worsen," he said, "let me know."

"I shall. In return, I want to help you with something."

Intrigue surfed through him, and he reclined, easing again now that a lightness had returned to her voice. "What could the Hero of Hogwarts help me with?"

"Well, since you seem reluctant to do anything yourself," she said, with a lilt of teasing, "I thought I would help you in winning back Gibby's affection."

His stomach knotted. This conversation had taken a turn he did not like.

"There's nothing to win back."

"If you're not careful, she's going to fall into Leander Prewett's arms and never look back."

The thought filled him with rage, yet he said, "It is what it is," because whomever you chose to spend your time with was your decision.

"There you go again," said Missy, exasperated, "sounding as if you've already given up."

But she couldn't possibly understand how crushing it was to know that you couldn't bear to be near him for very long, nor alone. That every conversation was stilted and awkward, like four years of friendship no longer mattered. That you didn't touch him or hold him or tease him anymore, because the pain was too great. A pain he hadn't been quick enough to stop.

"What do you possibly suggest I do?" he dared to ask. "Because right now being in my mere presence distresses her."

"I'm suggesting," said Missy, "that you court her."

He almost – almost – laughed.

"Court her? That is lunacy."

"Why? You can't tell her she's pretty, no, but you can compliment her, engage in flirtations with her. Gibby is a hopeless romantic. She will melt."

"But she— she doesn't like me that way."

"I know you're blind, Ominis, but you're not, you know... blind."

He knew that. The Amortentia, for one, proved him wrong. But that was a long time ago.

Missy was gentle now. "Fight for her. Charm her. Earn her affections back."

He sat up. "You're forgetting something key. I come from a family of anti-Muggle supremacists, for whom the word disapprove does not do justice."

"Remember what I said? Forget them. Do it for you. You'll regret it if you don't at least try. And if you need some help along the way, I'll be there." When his expression crumpled, she merely added, "You deserve some happiness too. And, well, the boy I like is in prison, so all I can do right now is help you."

He let out a single, sad chuckle. What a pair they made.

Fine, then. That day he resolved he would try, would fight for you. But he would also guard his heart, and yours. He was not prepared to offer his love only to have it stolen away again – by fate, by family, by whatever else came careening his way. He was not at the point where he felt like he could give all of himself.

He had been shattered too many times, and had not yet recovered from the last blow.

Flirtations. A word that filled him with dread. Over the course of the first three months, you didn't speak more than you had to during class. That was okay, you needed space, and he needed time to think about a strategy. How did he plan to win you back? How could he court you, when he was your ruin? He thought back over the years, picking apart moments, no matter how fleeting, that he could use to help.

Like that time he discovered your ultimate dream.

"Happy birthday!"

You squealed when he, Sebastian and Anne, plus Adelaide, Arthur and Evangeline, jumped out from behind the pillars by the pond in the Transfiguration Courtyard.

"I-It's not my fourteenth birthday until the holidays!" you said. Your arm was still in a sling from the bad fall you'd taken from a tree.

"We know that," said Evangeline. "But since we're never at school during your birthday, we thought we'd celebrate early! Have a picnic!"

"I'll take credit," said Sebastian, preening. "It was my idea."

"Then I sorted the food," said Anne. "And the picnic, and telling everyone..."

"Yeah," said Adelaide, laughing. "Really, Sebastian didn't do anything."

"Snitches," muttered Sebastian, but there was no real scorn there.

They all gave you presents, mostly sweets, but also a necklace, from Adelaide, and a new blouse, from Anne. Sebastian divvied out the food – sandwiches, flasks of tea, cakes, tarts, fruit, bread and cheese and a cheeky bottle of wine Arthur managed to procure from the kitchens. Ominis nursed a glass as you chatted.

"This is so fun! On my actual birthday my parents just let me off chores – although once, when I was nine, my papa took me to the panto!"

"Panto?" asked Sebastian.

"Pantomime, you know, a theatre production for children? It's usually at Christmas, but that year they did one in summer. You... don't have that?"

"Obviously not," he said, laughing.

"You mean, ohhhhh no we don't!" At the silence, you cleared your throat. "Sorry, sorry, Muggle joke."

"Mark another for the Gibberish Vocabulary," he mused. "What else are we missing from the Muggle world?"

"That's a big question," Arthur laughed. "Do you really trust Gibby to answer it?"

"Excuse me, I was raised Muggle, unlike you," you said indignantly, trying to peel a banana with one hand. "You can ask me, but you'll have to be more specific."

Adelaide peeled it for you before giving it back. "If you weren't a witch, what school were you going to go to?"

"School? Oh, no, I wasn't going to go to school! I was lucky I knew how to read."

A collective sweep of surprise went through them all, Ominis included.

"I was going to help my papa run the confectionary," you said brightly. "And my mama was going to teach me embroidery and needlework, cooking and cleaning..."

"So, what?" Sebastian asked, incredulous. "So you could... become a housewife?"

"Yep!"

"That sounds horrible," said Anne.

"Oh, well," you seemed embarrassed, "it's not so bad, really. Women can't own property—"

"What?" roared the girls.

"— so I was going to learn those skills that would make me useful around the home. Then when I married, the confectionary business could continue under my husband's name, but secretly I would run it, of course."

For some reason, that made his lungs squeeze.

"Gibby," said Adelaide, "that's awful."

"Yeah!" Evangeline protested. "Why can't you own the confectionary?"

"It's just— not how it's done."

"I'm glad you're a witch," she said stormily. "Now you don't have to follow such stupid rules."

You chomped on your banana, silent, and Ominis detected a hint of shame.

"Is it also true," Sebastian said, "that boys and girls can't be seen alone together?"

"Adult men and women, yes," you said, mouth full. "You have to have a chaperone, and if someone catches you alone together, it can cause a big scandal. The woman is seen as—" you whispered the word, "promiscuous."

How absurd. Ominis frowned. "Just being alone together means the woman is wanton?"

"And what about the man?" Evangeline asked hotly.

"Not the same for men."

"That's ridiculous! Why does Muggle society hate women?"

"I don't know. Every time I send a letter home, I have to remind my mama that magical folk have different rules. She lost her marbles when she found out I was socialising with three boys." You sighed. "The wizarding world is very, erm, open-minded. There was a lot of stuff I had to learn, but there was also a lot of stuff I had to unlearn, too."

There was something to be said about being raised in the magical world. At least, as a man, Ominis had rights no matter which side, and you... well, he was glad you were given an opportunity to grow into yourself, better than the Muggle world could offer you.

Sebastian clasped your shoulder then. "We're glad you're with us, Gibby." Then he gasped, comical. "Oh no, your virtue! I have thoroughly besmirched it with one touch on your shoulder!"

"Scandal!" Anne cried. "To the gallows!"

And even though you laughed, he noticed it didn't quite reach its normal, song-like inflection. He unravelled the conversation in his head as the topic moved on, and realised that perhaps, in your ideal future, you did want to become a housewife, you did want to run the confectionary with your husband after your father was gone. No magic or witchery had ever changed that.

Was that still what you wanted? Is it something you still want? To run your family business, to have a husband and a family to call your own?

Is that something he can ever hope to give you now, after everything?

And would you ever want that role to be given to him?

"The mistletoe discriminates for no one!"

A day before the start of his sixth year Christmas holidays, he received an invitation to a secret Christmas gathering of Missy's that evening, after the feast.

He'd wondered where such a gathering could take place – Professor Black was quite against them – but the instructions were unclear, only to meet on the seventh floor above the Charm classrooms. Missy had been reluctant to give too much detail when he queried her that day, but supposedly, opposite the tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy, there was a vast room she'd been using as her own private space. It only opened for her, and what she needed.

"Well," she muttered, "that's what I've told the others I've invited. The room will open to anyone if only they ask for it. I'm only telling you because I know you won't tell everyone."

After all these years, Hogwarts still found ways to surprise him.

She'd invited only the people who had joined her down in the caverns last year, plus you. A private party; for once it was nice to relax, be off-guard. Did Ominis like everyone there? Certainly not. Amit Thakkar was a know-it-all, Everett Clopton an annoying prat, Garreth Weasley was still suspicious, and Leander Prewett – well, he needed no explanation as to his intense dislike for that prick.

But did he trust them all? Did he trust them to keep secrets that weren't theirs to share? He was surprised to find he did.

Most importantly, he could trust that, around them, he could be seen with you.

It was an eclectic room to suit Missy's eclectic taste. The others talked of furniture that didn't match and strange design choices. It smelt like polished wood, flora, the acridness of a boiling cauldron and, oddly enough, animal food, though the latter came from the gateways to outside domes – what Missy called vivariums – where she kept beasts she'd rescued from poachers. She spent some of her evenings trying to nurse the creatures to full health before rehabilitating them in the wild.

As Ominis accustomed himself to the place, Natsai and Nerida added decorations, Poppy and Adelaide brought in food. Everett was in charge of entertainment and brought games to play. And Garreth had been into Zonkos for an enchanted mistletoe, which jingled above the heads of two random people, only ceasing in exchange for one thing.

"I would literally rather die than kiss you."

"This is just a test run, Imelda, and you're already being overdramatic."

"It's your bloody mistletoe and it's already caught you!" She tried to swat the thing, but it danced out of reach. "Ever thought what it would do for people who don't want to kiss for personal reasons? Like, an aversion to physical touch?"

"... Are you averse to physical touch?"

"Not unless it's a punch in the gob," she said, "which seems pretty tempting right now."

"Come on, where's your Christmas spirit?" said Garreth, though his voice rattled nervously. "It doesn't have to be a proper snog, and I know you'd rather I be a girl. Just a swift kiss to the head will do."

Ominis chuckled into his flute of wine. He and Missy were sitting at a nearby table, soaking in the atmosphere as the party had begun in earnest. A gramophone was lilting a jaunty tune between the humdrum of cheer. Reluctantly Imelda kissed the top of Garreth's head, making retching noises as she did, and the mistletoe stopped its jangling, though she promised to hex him if it caught her again.

"Any change to your visions?" Ominis asked.

"None," said Missy. "If anything they've been rather refreshing distractions from building Sebastian's appeal. The Wizengamot refuse to reply to my letters."

The door edged open, followed by a flurry of timid steps. Yours, late. A great cheer arose when you entered; usually you were wowed by magic you had never seen before, and a secret room was perfect for you – but you made no noise of wonder, only a shy "Hello," in acknowledgment. Missy slipped off the chair to greet you warmly – but you didn't hug, he noticed. Not anymore.

Most of these people, after all, you'd seen in your nightmares.

"Merry Christmas, Ominis," you said. Everything hung between you, a great echoing chasm. "I came to say goodbye."

His chest gave a painful lurch. "You're going home for the holiday?"

"Yes."

Disappointment eroded his ease.

"The train doesn't leave until tomorrow morning," Missy said. "I insist you stay for a little while."

"I have to pack."

"You're a witch," he reminded. "It'll take you seconds."

You were quiet, and he could tell you hadn't forgotten this rather important fact. You were simply looking for a polite excuse to escape. He turned back to the table, forced himself to drink.

"What Ominis means," Missy said, and he could feel her glaring, "is that there's plenty of time before curfew, should you wish to stay."

"I-I mean... would... you mind? I just... want to get used to being around all of my friends again."

"Of course I wouldn't mind. Stay for as long as you feel comfortable."

So Missy got you a drink – pumpkin juice – and let you linger by the door, enjoying the atmosphere but never fully involved, trying to peel back more and more of the curse, one moment at a time. It pained him to sit so far away from you. He was the wallflower, drawn to the sides, to the quiet corners. You, on the other hand, loved parties and socialising. Very often, you were the life of them, playing the games, eating food, talking non-stop, encouraging madness. Not this nervous creature, afraid of participation. Not someone who found the presence of so many people overwhelming.

You stayed on the sides, away from everyone, as Natsai set up a smaller version of Summoner's Court. Almost everyone played – even Ominis himself, roped into a game when Leander made an off-hand comment that he could, surely, 'beat the blind bloke' (Ominis won, naturally). They drank in-between – Everett had secured a keg of Firewhiskey – and it was clear most of the sixth-years couldn't handle their alcohol.

As Ominis was on his second glass of wine, Leander staggered towards you. The worst of it was, you didn't flinch or push him away.

"It's nice to see you back at parties, Gibs," he said, clearly finding some Dutch courage. "I'm glad you're getting better."

"Thanks, Leander," you said sweetly.

"Am I— too close to you right now? Do you want me to step back? Sorry, I really don't want to spook you."

To Ominis' surprise, and infuriation, you let out a giggle. "You're okay where you are. Just don't fall over. I don't think I'm strong enough to catch you."

"Wow. Were you always really short?"

"I think you're just really tall."

"Like a tree!"

Like a troll, Ominis thought.

Nerida slipped into the chair next to Ominis then, fiddling with her wand. "I think Everett jinxed my robe. I can't seem to stop swinging my arms every time a new song comes on."

"Sounds like something Everett would do," he murmured non-committedly.

He'd missed what you said next, but it made Leander thunder with laughter.

"Good to see no curse stops the legendary Gibberish Vocabulary."

You harrumphed. "It's not the Gibberish Vocabulary. It's true. Take any object and put -ed at the end. Congratulations, you've turned it into the Muggle word for drunk."

"Bottle?"

"You're completely bottled, Leander."

"Wand?"

"He's wanded up, all right."

"Robe, then?"

"I'm absolutely robed."

"I don't know, that last one was shaky, Gibs." He laughed again. "You sure you're not... pulling my leg?"

Then it came. The jingle of mistletoe.

Directly above your and Leander's heads.

Ominis almost sprayed wine everywhere. Your banter and teasing he could just about handle. But you and Leander kissing?

"The mistletoe has chosen its next—!" Garreth halted. "Oh. Ah."

"Bum," Leander said, and to his credit he did sound embarrassed. "Hey, Garreth, I think we should make an exception for Gibs. You know, curse and all..."

"I can speak for myself." You took a breath. "It's all right."

All right? It was absolutely not all right. You were still readjusting to these people being in your life. A kiss was— too much, too fast. Ominis' grip on his glass tightened, and he made to get up, complain on your behalf, you were just being nice after all—

"Oh, well," Leander cleared his throat, "can I kiss you then?"

There was some pause. The jingling continued.

"Yes," you said, "okay."

Then he heard the kiss on your cheek.

Crack. The flute's stem snapped, spilling wine everywhere, and Ominis hissed. The mistletoe ceased as Nerida squeaked.

"Oh, Ominis, careful! Reparo!"

He purged the liquid as the glass repaired itself. The shards had cut into his palms, and quickly he dabbed a napkin to staunch the bleeding. It came away sticky.

No pain, however, could subdue the rage incinerating him right now.

Leander was entirely all too pleased by the time Ominis tuned back in. "You have nice cheeks. Really soft."

"Thanks," you said prettily. "You— have nice lips."

Ominis gritted his teeth. Was a jinx too much? Perhaps a small hex then? Or one little Blasting curse? Leander could take it, surely. Throttled by temptation, he resisted all urges as you both continued to chat, perfectly content.

"I saw you break your glass. Are you all right?"

Missy, at his side. "I'm fine," Ominis said, drawing his ear away. "I'll cast Episkey when the bleeding stops."

She laughed softly. "I wasn't referring to your hand." She leant close and whispered, "That happening at the same time those two kiss? Definitely not suspicious."

He discarded the napkin onto the table before leaving. "I'm not having this conversation."

He didn't cast a Healing charm in the end – the pain was a welcome distraction from his aggravation. The kiss seemed to have broken the ice for you, and for the first time, you spoke to people willingly, not just Leander but your other friends as well. Ominis switched to pumpkin juice – clearly the wine was doing terrible things to his head – and continued to linger at the sides, mood souring. He listened intently when Leander was speaking, if only to glean something from him. Weaknesses, maybe. What on earth did Prewett have that you found likeable? The boy was a bully, abrasive and vain. Of course Ominis had no idea what he looked like, but there had to be something appealing there, as his soggy toilet seat of a personality couldn't possibly have won you over.

He massaged his temple, plying the low ache forming in his skull. Flirtations. Courtship. As the boys played Exploding Snap, he found another seat in the corner of the room, brooding miserly over the idea. He had no idea how to flirt, no idea as to the subtle machinations of showing affection without showing too much. Your voice was enthralling, your personality like sunshine, everything about you so pleasant that he was drawn to you helplessly.

He just he couldn't imagine saying that. To your face.

A body slipped into the chair next to him. He didn't recognise your timid gait – but your scent was still the same, and his heart notched in speed. Heartening to know that, after everything, you still clung to strawberry laces, sweet as memories.

"Have..." You trailed off, then tried again. "Have you heard from Anne?"

You initiated. That was good.

"Not since a few days before your curse was broken." Which you already knew about. He hadn't heard from her since, but, well, he was no longer worried for Anne anymore.

"I hope she's okay. What... happened to your hand?"

"Oh." He cleared his throat gruffly. "I broke a glass."

"Too much wine?"

"Hardly. I was just—" He fished for the word. "Inept."

"Let me see."

He swallowed thickly and offered his hand. You traced the fine clotted wounds, your touch feather-light, drawing a luxurious heat to his cheeks.

"Shall I heal it?"

"If you want."

He felt your wand tip press to his palm. "Episkey." The pain vanished, and he was upsettingly aware that you were probably wondering why he didn't just do that himself. "Be more careful, okay?"

"Usually I'm the one saying that to you."

"We ought to swap places from time to time. Keeps life interesting." A note of amusement threaded through you. "I've never seen you drunk."

"And you never shall."

"Is that a challenge?"

"It's a promise."

A soft chuckle. "This is nice. Just— bantering and teasing. Do you ever miss first year? When it was just... me and you and Sebastian and Anne, and we didn't have to worry about goblins or curses or— evil family members?"

He traced the tip of his finger along the rim of the glass, and admitted with sad clarity, "I miss it every day."

You sounded sad too. "Now there's only two of us."

"Well," Ominis said softly, "better than only me."

Imelda's booming laugher cut off your meek reply – shortly followed by the jingling of mistletoe. Ominis inclined his attention to his left.

"The mistletoe discriminates for no one!" she jeered. "Yeah, taste of your own damn medicine, isn't it?"

"Yeah, yeah, I get it," Garreth groaned. "Look, Everett, you're a nice chap and all—"

"Frankly I'd rather kiss a troll," said Everett, miming sickness.

"Hey, I won't judge whatever you're into."

You giggled beneath your breath, which made Ominis smile. They did kiss, on Everett's forehead – only because Garreth couldn't see his precious Galleons wasted like that – but after that he stuffed the mistletoe in a jar on the mantelpiece.

"Well, erm," you cleared your throat. "It was nice to see you."

"You're going already?"

"I've... had enough excitement. I get— anxious easily, now."

That made him clench his glass. "I see."

"Well, you don't." He must've made a stony face, because you said, "That was a joke. Just to show... we're okay, both of us. I'll... I'll see you after Christmas, all right?"

You stood and made to go, and by instinct he stood as well.

"Stay."

"What?"

"Over— Christmas," he said, trying not to stumble. "Stay. Please. I— don't want to be alone this holiday."

There was some emotion in your voice he couldn't identify. "You won't be alone. Missy is staying too."

"Yes," he said, breathless, "but she isn't you."

Was that a flirtation? He had no idea. You inhaled a long breath, seeming to contemplate this – seriously reconsider. His heart leapt with hope.

"I can't, Ominis," you said, and it was a sharp prick to deflate him. "I'm sorry. It's— I'm not over it all yet. I can't— be alone with you."

"You saw your family in your nightmares, didn't you?" he questioned in a rush. "Why do you think it'll be easier—?"

"It won't," you said, insistent. "But I haven't spent a lot of time at home for the past year and I miss them—"

"You miss me. You said so."

"You're different, okay?" you snapped. "You're being really unfair right now."

Because, the thought pierced him, I miss you too.

But he didn't say it. He couldn't.

Something smashed – glass. Garreth swore.

"Garreth!" Imelda cried. "You stupid—"

"Merlin's left arsecheek, I know, I'm clumsy! Finite Incantatum!"

But the spell missed, probably because he was too drunk to stand straight. Ominis turned towards the commotion, not understanding what was happening—

Jingle, jingle. The mistletoe belled above his head.

And yours.

"Whoaaa, okay, we have to leave this one!" slurred Garreth. "Get in there, Gaunty boy!"

Under the mistletoe. With you.

A flush overwhelmed him as the mistletoe jingled again, expectant. He didn't know what to make of your absolute silence. You were amused, and more than a little flattered, when you were caught with Leander, but now you were with him.

"Garreth," he said steadily, trying to remember he and most of the others were so drunk they couldn't tell face from arse. "I will not force Gibby to do anything—"

"I can speak for myself, you know," you said, that same edge to your inflection.

He didn't move. Neither did you.

"S-So— but—"

"What?"

Damn it, he was flustering. "You don't want to kiss me."

"You're talking over me again." Your ire bloomed something in his chest. "Just— say it, if you want to say it. You don't want to kiss me."

That could not have been further than the truth, but damn if he was going to say it, show it in front of all these people. "I— if it will stop this infernal jingling..."

A coward's answer, for certain. Still, the whole room was cheering, whooping, encouraging them, which only made his traitorous heart worse. Finally he turned to you, schooling his face into something more composed.

"Listen, I'm sorry for what I said. I do know I'm... different to you, and you're still accustoming to being around me, but if you are even slightly uncomfortable—"

And as sudden as a flash of lightning, you had closed the gap between you, and your lips were on his cheek.

Soft, sweet, seducing.

He barely had time to register it before you were stepping away again, and the jaunty mistletoe ceased. This made everyone in the room cheer like some great hurdle had been overcome. The feeling of your lips lingered.

And it made his insides scream.

"There," you mumbled. "Now you can stop talking over me."

Deep longing crashed through his chest, clammed his tongue. Too dazed to reply, he simply stood there, motionless and stiff. Do something. Say something! But he couldn't. His internal wiring had fizzled out in the same moment the breath left his lungs.

"Right," you blurted, "I— I really have to go now. So, erm, have a nice Christmas. Everyone."

And you were scurrying away, back through the door. Gone.

It took a second for the rest of his body to catch up. For his heart to race at the speed of a train, for the blood to rush to his cheeks. He'd had to endure listening to Leander kiss you, but this made up for it a thousand times over.

And then, regret.

Why didn't I kiss you back?

Someone nudged him then. Garreth.

"Damn, she ran straight out. How bad do your cheeks taste, Gaunt?"

"If you don't stop that bloody mistletoe, Weasley," Ominis muttered, "I will turn your insides into outsides."

"Duly noted. Finite Incantatum!"

This one he didn't miss. The mistletoe dissolved.

The partying resumed like nothing had changed, of course. No one mourned the mistletoe, and the consequences of such a kiss. The way it consumed Ominis' thoughts, so much that he had to find a seat immediately, massage his temple, resist the urge to touch his cheek.

"You seemed to enjoy that."

Ominis scowled at Missy's tone. "Not another word."

But she chuckled beneath her breath. It was vaguely sinister. "Very strange how Garreth happened to trip into the glass, and the mistletoe happened to choose you and Gibby, isn't it?"

"... You are evil."

"I'm a Slytherin," she corrected. "Merry Christmas."

It was certainly a Christmas, and though a kiss from you was a priceless gift, a moment he would cherish, he'd more describe the two weeks holiday as strange. The day itself had been fine – fun, even, when Missy gifted him some cologne ("So you actually start smelling attractive." "A simple I thought this smelt nice would've sufficed."), and he gifted her a loud pocket watch (for no reason other than to stop her sneaking up on him), and they played Summoner's Court in the snow.

On Boxing Day, however, he was accosted in the Slytherin common room, an arm looping through with his. If it weren't for his brain processing the girl's scent – champagne and vintage fur – he might've flinched.

"What do you think you're doing?"

"Ominis," crooned Dorothy Ellingboe, his cousin once-removed. "You're coming with me."

"To where?"

She didn't say, only dragging him out to the faculty tower. His thoughts ran rampant when they reached the door to the staff area. Had he been caught with you? Had Missy's secret been exposed? He could tell by the mighty bounce in her step that she knew something he didn't.

When they pushed into a sitting room, hearth blazing, Ominis' reluctance tripled.

"Ah, there you are."

He recognised this voice too, Dorothy's haughty mother. Much like Dorothy herself, she had a slight force to her words – full of a barely-concealed malice. Once a Gaunt, always a Gaunt, no matter how distant.

"I've brought him as requested," said Dorothy, and she set him down on the sofa.

"What is the meaning of this?" he enquired, not quite politely.

"We're merely making rounds, Ominis," said Mrs Ellingboe coolly. "There's something I'd like to hear for myself. Your parents tell me you have the ability. So, pray tell, how is your Parseltongue?"

Only until she'd finished did he realise she'd spoken entirely in the snake's language. His stomach twisted. Dorothy was silent at his side, but he could tell she was waiting, as her mother was, to test him.

"Fine," he replied, forcing out the guttural tongue. Always ready, as he'd feared. "Is that really the only purpose of this visit?"

"Parseltongue is a dying art," his cousin hissed. "It is important to speak it frequently, so as to make sure the language does not die."

"It is not a language you can learn," he said, remembering Sebastian's words in the Scriptorium. "It won't matter whether I speak it frequently or not."

"You have a sharp tongue, boy," she said, not without a small amount of amusement. "You ought to not to bite a hand that feeds you."

He had no idea what that meant. He kept as far away from the Ellingboes as possible.

"So?" Dorothy asked – in English. "Does it meet your standards, Mother?"

"Yes," she replied. "It is legitimate."

He stood. "If that's all, I shall take my leave."

"Very well."

He almost didn't want to return to the common room, knowing how easily he was buttonholed. What in Merlin's name did she and his family want to test his Parseltongue for? Was she sent by his own parents, prodding once more at the strength of Slytherin's blood? Some inane test about his legacy or whatever nonsense Marvolo liked to parrot?

She didn't bother him again for the rest of Christmas, a small relief. Missy didn't know what to make of it either, when he shared it. So the January term began anew, and on the fourth day in, he was surprised to find a note in his pocket.

Meet alone? Undercroft, 8pm.

This was no small feat. It had been eight months since you'd woken, and not once since had you requested alone time with him. He was more than a little relieved, and nervous, to meet you there. He washed and dressed and was in the Undercroft at exactly eight, knowing you would likely be late.

But a moment after he arrived, the gate lifted.

"Hello, Ominis," you greeted shyly, coming over.

He studied your voice, as he always did. You sounded... better.

"Hello, Gibby."

"You're... wearing something?"

"Clothes, funnily enough."

"No, I mean— is that cologne?"

Merlin. He'd probably put too much on. "I got it for Christmas. From Missy."

"Aw, that's kind of her."

"Not so when she tells you that you smell."

You laughed, right from your chest – an inkling of your old self.

"You don't smell. She was teasing... I think."

"One can never be sure with her."

"But— it is nice, really," you said sweetly. "It suits you."

You didn't sit close anymore, and he remembered that day after he argued with Sebastian, when you had comforted him, head on his shoulder. All he could smell back then was strawberry laces. Those days were gone, but he was grateful you were here at all, even if not in close proximity.

You shared what you'd been up to over Christmas. You were again forced to readjust to your parents and all three of your loud brothers, who didn't quite understand the parameters of your curse. Acting as if everything was okay, however, seemed to help you around them – because they had little knowledge of the magical world, and how cruel it could truly be.

"I also received a proposal. Well, an informal proposal, I suppose."

His lungs knotted. "From whom?"

"The baker's son, Timothy Spink. I've known him my whole life."

Ominis loathed him already. "Oh?" he said with forced nonchalance.

"Technically he just reminded me about a promise we made when we were children. Do you remember Muggle courtship rules? Neither of us want the fuss and bother of going to church and meeting eligible partners. So he asked seriously if we could marry each other when we're both older. I said I'd think about it."

"And will you? Think about it?"

"Maaaaaybe."

"Don't tease, Gibby."

"Why? Doesn't Mrs Spink sound fetching?"

"Dreadful, actually." He raised his chin. "You deserve much more than a marriage of convenience."

You quietened, and he couldn't tell what you thought about that.

"I suppose it does sound rather dreadful, doesn't it?"

That brought him an amount of relief he could not quantify. He told you about his Christmas, mostly relaxing with Missy, poring through law books to see any loopholes in Sebastian's sentence, practicing spells they'd need for their N.E.W.T. classes. He also told you about his unfortunate encounter with Dorothy.

"Parseltongue?" you questioned. "Why's she testing your Parseltongue?"

"I don't have the faintest idea."

"Hmm, well," you mused, "it is a very cool ability, to speak to snakes."

You must've been thinking back of the Scriptorium – the first time he'd used the ability in years, and the first time he'd used it in front of you.

"It's not something to boast about," he murmured.

"You said it was associated with Dark wizards."

"Yes, because only Slytherin's descendants have the ability."

"But the language itself, it's not bad, is it? Like, you don't want to kill a bunch of Muggles after you speak it?"

"You shouldn't joke about that."

"I'm not."

His lips pursed. "You cannot uproot its history so easily. It is bad."

"But that's like when my brother Connor tried to teach me Welsh swear words. The whole Welsh language isn't bad because of it, is it? Parseltongue is the same." You hummed. "Say something nice."

"What?"

"In Parseltongue. Say something nice. Like... the sun feels good on my skin."

His brow crumpled, but he obliged. "Very well. The sun feels good on my skin."

"Was that so evil?"

When he spoke the language in the Scriptorium, it was a deep betrayal of his personal values, an abomination, used to access Dark Magic and hurt you and coax Sebastian into eventually using the Unforgivable Curses. When he spoke it to Dorothy's mother, it was a means to an end, an escape for her scrutiny, a test of the legacy he bore. But such an innocent phrase... there was nothing sinister in it, only in the way it sounded. Only in the way he perceived it.

"I suppose not," he hedged.

"Say something else," you said, eager.

He rubbed his temple. Now he'd opened the floodgates. "Such as?"

"I'll guess!"

A game, then? He smirked, and was gratified to hear you laugh in return.

"Othinuisss haunthh hassshith hssssiet."

"Hint?"

"A common way for me to greet someone new."

"Hmm... 'Nice to meet you'?"

"No. I said My name is Ominis Gaunt. Othinuisss haunthh is my name in the tongue."

"Othinis haunts hashith hissiet!"

He snorted. "Slytherin just rolled in his grave."

"Good." Your enthusiasm was palpable. "Again!"

"A simpler one, then." He knew what to say. "Hithhy."

"'Gibby'?"

"Correct."

"Hithy hashith hissiet!"

"Not hithy. Hithhy."

"That's definitely what I said."

"There's more emphasis on the h sound. You said the equivalent of Jih-BIH, rather than Jih-BEE."

You giggled, falling back against the floor. "It's so amazing that you can just say it. You didn't have to learn it, or its rules. It's just... programmed into your brain."

He sobered. "Into my bloodline, you mean."

You sat up, voice gentle.

"A language is a tool, Ominis. It can't be inherently bad. It's only in how you use it."

There was truth to that, and to hear you say it made him feel... lighter.

"I know you don't like it very much, and this might not mean anything to you," and you shied, "but I think it's— it's really— well, it's kind of... attractive when you speak it."

He flushed from tip to toe. His hissing was attractive? He had to turn away from you then, fearing his expression was too hopeful, too desperate. Stop blushing, fool, but it was impossible, when you'd outright confessed it to him. When you brought back the memory of you under the mistletoe, the smell of you in the Amortentia. You, in everything.

How he wished he could kiss you now.

"I— ahem." He cleared his throat noisily. "That— I think—" Merlin.

"Ominis."

It was infuriating not to be able to read your expressions as easily as you read his. He faced you, and with startling awareness, realised you were crawling over to him.

"Sebastian and Anne are gone now," you mumbled, "but you're still here, and I know you always will be, so... thank you. Thank you for... being my friend."

You'd said that to him before, a long time ago now. He thought he'd changed, his past catching him unawares, his family thumbing away compassion and joy bit by bit, his future looming over him, promising sweet rot, but to think that after everything, you still believed in his goodness...

The memory of Christmas fluttered back to him.

"I missed you." It came out as an injured admission. "I have missed you every day for the last two years."

Your silence was foreboding.

"It's funny," you said quietly. "Sometimes I look at you and— see that horrible version of you, torturing me, enjoying it. Sometimes I see you and my breath catches in terror." His chest throbbed painfully. "But then... memories of everything before come back, and you say things like that, and... I remember that behind a wall of stone, you guard a heart of gold."

He felt it on his pinkie finger then – your own, brushing his. He almost flinched, the suddenness startling him. Then came that rush of adrenaline, as potent as lightning. Your finger intertwined with his daringly, and he responded, turning his palm over, letting you lace your hand with his.

And there you were, both of you, sitting in the Undercroft, holding hands.

"This is the most I can do for now," you whispered.

He smiled. Caught his breath.

"This is enough."

You continued to meet in secret like before. Your touches were brief like before, too. Shy and awkward. Sometimes Missy invited you and him, and Garreth, to her magical room. On your worst days you declined. On your lesser worse days you simply did revision to the sounds of the beasts roaming in the vivariums, barely saying a word. That was okay. You couldn't give yourself wholly yet, and he was prepared to wait.

He would wait an eternity, if it meant he could be yours again.

By the end of spring, he had gained much more courage, and so had you. You talked for hours, you teased one another, and you laughed, laughed so hard sometimes tears came out of your eyes, and his. Once you fell asleep against his shoulder, and he stayed with you the whole night, if only to allow you a semblance of peace as the workload ramped up and the year drew to yet another close.

Still he thought of that moment under the mistletoe. Still, he was tormented by his stupor and hesitation.

"Did you enjoy it?" he asked you in May. "Kissing Leander during Missy's party?"

"What's brought this on?"

"Just curious."

"Ominis Gaunt," you said, sly, "do I detect a hint of jealousy?"

"Absolutely not. That would require me to admit he has something I don't."

A dulcet laugh. "If you must know, yes, I did enjoy it. When you and I weren't talking, he was so kind to me, and it was confusing. It... it still is..."

Ah.

"But," you mumbled, "I also enjoyed kissing you. Even if you didn't."

It brought breath back to his chest. Don't dare hope. He wouldn't allow it. He grappled the last strings of his resolve and braced himself.

"I did want to kiss you. Very much."

You went silent. It seemed to last for hours.

"But you didn't."

"No."

"Why?"

His jaw tightened. His very own nature, was why. His very own, real fears.

Still, time had granted him wisdom and hindsight, and he was determined to show you that he was yours, and he would certainly not let bloody Prewett beat him at anything. He reached forwards, tangling your fingers with his.

"Will you allow me to make it up to you?" Gently he guided your fingers to his lips, hovered there in wait as a gasp slipped from you. "Say you will offer me this small forgiveness. Please."

A pause that felt as long as a sunrise.

"Okay."

So he placed a soft kiss to your knuckles. You made a noise that thrilled his blood, and he smiled and pressed another, just to hear it again. You were a distraction, a dazzling distraction, and despite everything going on in his life, despite the threat of his family, a persistent bad smell with the slow bubbling of his affections, he allowed himself to succumb to it. To be swept away by you.

Distracted he was, that mere days before his mock Potions exam he arrived at the laboratory completely forgotting he'd had homework.

"What's with the face, Gaunt?" Garreth asked.

All year, and still Garreth hadn't let up. Suspicion teemed through him.

"Nothing that concerns you," he said brusquely.

"Come on, don't be like that. What? Forget your homework, or something?"

Merlin, he was easy to read. For you he would accept it, but Garreth Weasley? Ugh.

He felt parchment brush the tips of his fingers.

"Here," said Garreth.

"What is this?"

"Oh, sorry – forgot you can't read it. I'll dictate."

"What is this?"

"My Potions homework."

Ominis scrunched his face. "Are— you letting me copy from you?"

"Yeah, and you better hurry, because Sharp will tear us new ones if he discovers—"

Instead, Ominis levelled his wand at Garreth's throat. Rather extreme, when he thinks about it now. Alas, his suspicions had come to a head, and Garreth had it coming eventually.

"Why?"

"Are you seriously threatening me for offering to help you?"

"Enough with this," he snapped. "You've been hanging around me being annoying all year, and I have no idea why."

"I do not annoy," said Garreth. "I pester."

"I don't care what synonym you use. Why are you trying to get into my good graces? It's insidious and I cannot figure out what your grand scheme is, so you'd better tell me the truth or so help me—"

"Merlin, Ominis, not everyone is out to get you." Garreth pushed the wand tip away from his neck. "Gibby put me up to it. There."

It was so shocking Ominis went predatorily still.

"What?"

"Gibby. She asked me on the first day back if I could keep an eye on you. Well. Not keep an eye on you, so much. Specifically she asked if I could keep you company in all the classes we share."

He was so colossally flabbergasted he didn't speak.

"Not out of malice, I swear," said Garreth. "It was just— she couldn't stand being around you much, after the curse, and she worried you'd be lonely."

He had been. Was.

"She thought, if anyone could be an amazing, charming proxy friend, it would be me, and I agreed, because one can never have too many friends." He imagined Garreth grinning. "For what it's worth, you're actually all right. Not the stick-in-the-mud that I thought. Though you definitely have angst-ridden, Slytherin issues."

"How kind."

"It is, I am." But when Ominis didn't return its lightness, Garreth only sighed. "Don't be mad at her, all right? She was looking out for you."

He had no idea what to feel. He wasn't some baby that needed looking after, but he knew, when it came to you, you never condescended. It was with the purest intentions that you sent Garreth after him, and that alone made his heart blunder.

"I'm surprised you agreed," he said, lowering his wand. "You have conflicted interest in this, no? Since your best friend is Prewett?"

"Hey, you two can have your pissing contest as much as you want, I'm staying out of it. I just did a favour for a friend."

And although he was loath to admit it... he appreciated the thought.

"Well... thank you."

"You're welcome."

"However, if you tell anyone about this arrangement, I will ensure my face will be the last you ever see."

"Hahah. Funny." But when Ominis only smiled, Garreth said, more desperately, "That was a joke, right?"

He had no intention of letting Garreth into his inner circle, his most trusted companions. Friendship took time to build, and he would rather die than frolic to class with a Gryffindor at his side. But he let up a little on his bluntness, even when Garreth annoyed him by way of being... himself.

He intended to discuss this development with you.

Along with other things.

You'd swooned about the view from this particular balcony once. Far away from Hogwarts and on the edge of Hogsmeade, it was not at all convenient to get to, but a sunny June day between exams, cold enough to need a jumper, warm enough to enjoy the sun on his face, seemed like a good time to take advantage of the distance. There was little chance you'd be interrupted. Little chance you'd be caught.

"I found out about Garreth."

Braced on your arms beside him on the stone bench, you went utterly still.

"Oh."

"Mmm, oh."

"Are you mad?"

"A little," he admitted. "You needn't have worried about the state of my social life, let alone meddled with it."

"I'm sorry. After Sebastian, I didn't want you to be alone."

He let out a single chuckle. "Loneliness and I are old acquaintances, Gibby. I would've survived. And I have Missy."

"But you're genuine friends with Garreth now, right? He's really nice."

"He's tolerable."

You playfully shoved him. "Ominis."

"Going behind my back to get me a friend is rather cunning of you, I must admit. A little Slytherin rubbed off on you, Hufflepuff?"

"Considering you called Garreth tolerable and not ingratiating, insipid, or troublesome, I'd say my Hufflepuff has rubbed off on you, Slytherin."

He smiled. "Suppose I wouldn't mind keeping a little of you for myself."

He laughed when you stammered. Flirtations. He had to admit he was getting quite good at it. He stood then, fuelled with courage, and took your hand to pull you up.

"Dance with me."

"Dance?" you said, incredulous. "Now?"

"Of course."

"There's no music."

"There doesn't need to be."

"But— I can't—"

"Everyone dances, Gibby."

He smiled, thinking on a memory long ago. Perhaps you were thinking about it too.

"All right," you said softly.

You took his left hand and shoulder, he took your right hand and waist. Your closeness was dizzying, but he forced himself to focus, to sway. He was unfortunately familiar with more complicated dances from all the parties his parents had dragged him too, but this was a simple box-step, one you picked up on easily.

"Ow. You trod on my foot."

"I'm sorry, I can't see where they are. Though they must be rather large for me to step on them."

Your blustering gasp made him chuckle. "How dare you! I have delicate, ladylike feet, thank you very much! Not like your massive clod-hoppers."

He smiled wickedly. "Well, you know what they say about people who have large feet... they have other large body parts, too."

"W-What?"

"Hearts, of course."

"Oh, Ominis!"

"Your mind clearly went elsewhere." He let out a husky laugh. "How terribly unladylike of you, Gibby."

"I have two older brothers," you snorted. "Of course my mind went elsewhere!"

He slowed the pace, drawing you closer, and that intoxicating scent of strawberry laces eclipsed all else.

"Indulge me," he mumbled. "What of mine were you thinking about?"

"Nothing at all," you said, feigning disinterest. "I was, in fact, just thinking about someone else's large body parts. Someone beginning with Lee and ending with ander."

Oh, you were evil.

"You'd better be talking about his heart."

"I would not refer to anything else, of course," you said slyly. "But let's not talk about him anymore."

Merlin, that you said that gave him butterflies. It was the last push of courage he needed to lead you, step by step, until your back was against the stone bannister, and there was only the two of you on the precipice of the world. Between the wind sluicing around them, all he could think, feel, taste, touch, was you. Your sweetness was in full bloom, and he stepped as close as he dared, until you were mere inches away, your breath mingling with his.

"You're... beautiful," he whispered.

A croaking huff emerged from your lips. "Flatterer. You don't know what I look like. I could be ugly. As ugly as a troll, for all you know."

"Impossible." He reached up, drew the back of his fingers across your cheek. "Your soul is too beautiful for the outside not to match."

Your breath hitched.

"Ominis..."

"I'm in with love you, Gibby." He said it before he lost his nerve. "I— I've been in love with you for years."

But your hands slipped from his grasp. You ducked beneath him, and you were away, too far for him to sense you.

No, no, no.

"No, it's— it's not you, I promise," you said quickly. "I-I just... I'm really overwhelmed right now. Emotionally."

He bit back the sting. "I-I'm sorry—"

"Please, don't be—"

"I shouldn't have said anything—"

"Would you let me finish?" He chastened. "I— feel strongly about you too, but I just— I can't give you an answer right now. It's complicated. I'm complicated."

"Then take the summer to think about it," he said, trying to salvage the situation. "Think on it. On us."

"I don't expect you to wait for me."

"I think you underestimate how long I would wait for you."

You let out a hysterical laugh. "Stop saying things like that. It just makes you more attractive."

"That is the idea."

You quietened, sweet. "I'll think on it during the summer. Promise."

It fuelled him on the train home.

Your Hufflepuff friends were with you, and so was his heart, linked now to yours no matter whether you rejected his affections or not. He, on the other hand, sat with Missy until York. Naturally he told her of what had happened, and she was perfectly proud of him, confident he would come back in seventh year with you on his arm. He didn't want to hope, of course, but the fantasy of it was too appealing not to.

Then, when she disembarked, he was alone. And it was... okay.

His personal house-elf Pip accompanied him on the carriage ride from King's Cross. Ominis took the time to rebuild the walls around himself, to compartmentalise his emotions for the next six weeks. He was seventeen now, a man. Soon this charade would be over, and he would be free. My family are the disgrace. Not me. Aunt Noctua's inheritance had come through, and now he had some money to his name, he was waiting, biding his time as the interest built up and he graduated Hogwarts, to move out of the Gaunt estate and never look back.

However, when they arrived at the house and he took his first step inside, something about the place smelt different. Wrong. He didn't get the opportunity to pinpoint what exactly it was when his father pulled him roughly into the eastern receiving room.

"Your inheritance," he said, forgoing pleasantries and greetings. "We have need of it. You will depart to Gringotts in the morning and see it transferred."

The insolence. "You have already dipped into my funds, Father," Ominis reminded tersely. "The rest is mine."

"You dare to disobey me again, boy?"

He yanked his grip free. "Noctua named me in the will. I will not insult her memory by giving it all to you."

"That money is crucial," his father hissed, "for our survival."

And Ominis realised then. That smell... it was of nothing. Not dust nor fabric nor polish for silver. It was simply air, and the general damp musk that emanated from the manor walls. He palmed his wand, realising all too late that the room was nearly empty.

"What— where is everything?"

"Sold. We've hit some hard times, financially. The filthy council keep sending Mudbloods to harangue us for taxes."

"What of Marvolo's fortunes?" Ominis said, incredulous. "Or Grimsley's? Raven or Lenore's?"

For the first time ever, he heard real remorse from his father.

"Gone. Squandered."

"And whose fault is that?"

"Yours," he barked with contempt. "If you hadn't condoned the Sallow boy's actions last summer, we might still be respected. We're the laughing stock of high society now. No one will do business with us." It was absurd to even think that was remotely true, but his father didn't give him the opportunity to retort. "If you wish to avoid seeing our family in ruin, you will send the money at once."

Of course, when Ominis went to Gringotts the next day, he made especially sure to withdraw only a few, pitiful Galleons for his father – and transfer the rest to another vault entirely.

Things were different after that. In the haze of summer nights, he overheard his father raging, drunken, about the unfortunate circumstances to his house-elf Ratch – usually with a belt. Their London residence was reclaimed to cover some of the debts. Marvolo ignored all letters from the council, arguing on the front lawns every week with a Muggle councilman named James Riddle. Even Ominis' possessions were later sold, ornaments, trinkets, his entire book collection, braille texts he'd spent years gathering. It was a wonder they didn't move out entirely or sell the abundance of land they possessed, including a spot of forest further back on the grounds, but his parents were stubbornly attached to the premises, having housed generations of Gaunt offspring, and downplayed their troubles when invited to parties.

Ominis hadn't realised how deeply in trouble they were. Selling odds and ends would do nothing; it couldn't go on. When he suggested to Marvolo to palm off Slytherin's locket and the Peverell ring, Marvolo hissed back with a feral sort of possessiveness.

"There are no Galleons worth these. I would never sell them."

So they lived relatively modestly, with only their small army of house-elves any indication of their former wealth. The only thing that kept him from losing his mind altogether was the thought of you, and he was counting the days until school began again, when he could see you once more.

In August, he was invited to his last pure-blood affair before the term began.

He thought it would be the same as the others, this time a private dinner at the austere Ellingboe estate in Cambridgeshire. Ominis had dressed in his formal wear – the only formal garb he possessed now, the rest having been shilled off – and wordlessly followed his parents to the living room. Only he found it immediately unusual, and suspicious, when Marvolo, Grimsley, Raven and Lenore crowded around the fireplace as well, bickering as they Floo travelled to the Ellingboe's fragrant drawing room. The senior Ellingboes greeted them.

"Welcome, welcome! Just in time. The Malfoys are already seated. Come along!"

Marvolo petted Ominis' shoulder, an amusing gesture considering they were the same height now.

"Behave tonight, little brother."

"Don't I always?"

Ominis' suspicions heightened when he shadowed his brother's steps, and found himself in a stifling dining room, the hearth set to blazing, the musk of lacquered wood like an acrid lemon. The chairs scraped back as the three Malfoys rose in greeting – Edwin, his wife and, unfortunately, Peregrine.

"Come, sit!" coaxed Mr Ellingboe, Dorothy's stout father. "And here, we have a place especially for you, Ominis."

Right next to Dorothy. He resisted the urge to gag as she leant over to him.

"You wore that ensemble last party."

"My apologies," he said without sorrow. "I can't see what I choose."

"That will be the first thing to change."

"What? My lack of sight?"

"Your lack of wardrobe."

She didn't elaborate, but worry stirred in his gut. One more week. Then he'd be back at Hogwarts with his friends, with you. He could endure the snide remarks and disdain until then. He'd been doing it all summer, what was seven more days?

After the first two courses were served, and Ominis survived the painfully stilted conversation with Dorothy, Mr Ellingboe rose to his feet at the head of the table and raised his glass.

"Thank you all for coming today. As the new school year is soon to begin, it is with great enthusiasm that we usher in the next generation of pure-bloods, destined to continue our glorious lineages for many years to come."

Ominis withheld a snort.

"Today, my speech comes with a special announcement. My wife and I are pleased to celebrate the momentous joining of two powerful wizarding lines." Mr Ellingboe dinged his glass. "The betrothal of my beloved daughter, Dorothy... to Ominis Gaunt!"

All of Ominis' disgust drained at once.

No. It cannot be.

"The wedding will take place on Dorothy's seventeenth birthday, next August." Mr Ellingboe brimmed with self-satisfaction. "A toast to the Gaunt name! May this esteemed bloodline prevail for generations to come!"

But as glasses clinked aloft, Ominis realised he had not misheard. He had not conjured falsities, nor woken from a cruel nightmare.

And despite it all, despite everything, he laughed. It wasn't a demure one, either – this was a big, belly-deep, uncouth guffaw that would've made you so proud.

"You cannot be serious."

It rendered the table to utter silence.

"You think this is amusing, boy?" muttered Dorothy's mother.

"We're deadly serious," snapped his father, switching to Parseltongue, and it was like the food he'd eaten had rotted in his stomach. "We have arranged an advantageous match to secure the future of the mighty Slytherin bloodline. You ought to be grateful."

Are they pathologically insane? "But Dorothy— she's my cousin!"

"Once-removed! And an exquisite beauty, not that you could appreciate that."

That seemed to appease Mrs Ellingboe, as she huffed in triumph, and the last of Ominis' mirth fell away.

This... this was real. He was betrothed. They wanted to marry him off to his own cousin, because—

"You don't have the ability, do you?" he realised, speaking to Dorothy in clear-cut English, the only language she could understand. "You cannot speak Parseltongue."

"It doesn't matter whether I can speak it or not, because our children will." Her shame was buried by contempt. "I hope your seed is strong, future husband, because I plan on having at least five."

Nausea bowled through his horror. No, no, no. His chair scraped noisily as he stood. "E-Excuse me."

Without waiting for dismissal, he fled the dining room on unsteady feet. He didn't know where he was going. He didn't care. Suddenly the very walls seemed oppressive, burrowing into him, stealing the blood from his veins. His lungs rejected air. His hands quaked. He stumbled into an empty drawing room, narrowly missing a house-elf, slammed the door shut and crumpled onto the nearest chair.

And when he was quietly, mercifully alone... Ominis wept.

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osaemu · 2 years ago

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OSAMU DAZAI: ❛❛ FALSE GOD ❜❜

.ೃ࿐ dazai's far from the perfect boyfriend, and you're not the perfect girlfriend either. NSFW

contents: fem!reader. gets kinda angsty but nothin' major. toxic undertones. not a songfic but there's one line from false god included. mostly cunniligus. kinda self-indulgent.

author's note: obscure ending, interpret it however u want.

osamu dazai is a cynic, and he has no shame in admitting that.

every word you say and every man you smile at, dazai knows. behind those coffee-brown eyes lie a calculated gaze, and it's fixated on you. it's as if you're nothing more than another pawn in his games — just another player for dazai to manipulate at his will.

dazai figures that it's just human nature. everyone has their own motives, and everyone has their own secrets. being raised by the mafia, he's practically been trained to analyze every move made by another. after all, since he can't read minds, he has to assume that even you can't possibly be this good to him.

one day, when you bring him lunch at the agency, he asks what you'd like in return. you pause, a bit confused, before shaking your head and replying that it wasn't meant to come off that way. dazai insists that he do you a favor or something in return in order to avoid being indebted to you.

it stings, really, the idea that dazai thinks that your relationship is nothing more than a contract. and after weeks go on with dazai's suspicious eyes boring into your back every time you do a favor for him, you finally tell him so. you tell him what you thought you'd never have to tell him — that you don't have any ulterior motives in dating him.

dazai disagrees.

"i can't talk to you when you're like this," you murmur, shaking your head. and you really can't. honestly it's frustrating and draining — you don't want to have to prove to dazai night after night that you aren't with him for anything else than him.

your boyfriend's eyes narrow slightly, and clearly, he's trying to find your angle. is this a ploy to gain sympathy from him? or are you trying to guilt-trip him into doing something for you later? whatever it is, dazai decides that the best course of action would be to leave. for now, at least. he'll come back when you're asleep.

"okay."

dazai turns and leaves, going off to who-knows-where to do who-knows-what. you're left standing in the doorway, dumbfounded and not sure where to go from here.

two wineglasses and three hours later, he returns and finds you passed out on the couch. under any other circumstances, dazai'd be worried, but there's a trashy romcom playing in the background and a half-empty wine bottom on the table, so he figures that you're fine.

he walks over, careful not to wake you. dazai holds a bouquet of pink roses in one hand, and he uses the other to gently caress your cheek.

"god, you're so dramatic," dazai whispers, eyes trailing over your drowsy figure. his words are laced with muted affection, as if he can't find a way to express it without a petty insult on top of it. and well, maybe you are somewhat dramatic, but the way he sees it, he'd rather make up now than drag this on later. he sets down the bouquet and kneels down to your level, and the faint scent of whiskey lingers in the air.

"i wish i could be your perfect boyfriend," dazai says quietly, trailing his fingers through your hair. "but i just can't be, and if you want me to leave, i will."

dazai knows you're awake and listening to every word, and he also knows that you don't underestimate him. he's confident that you're aware that he knows you're not actually asleep, but for the sake of the moment, he gives you that choice. you can either keep pretending to sleep and brush him off, or you can open your eyes.

you open your eyes.

maybe you're just a hopeless romantic, but you could swear that a soft, relieved sigh escapes dazai's lips. lips that are now on yours as dazai attempts to make up for all the times he's pushed you away. and it's likely that even now, dazai won't change. he never does, no matter how many promises he makes. but it's nice that for once, he's trying to make up for what he's lost. even if it isn't much.

but you do get pretty close to forgiving him when his mouth isn't the only part of him on you. dazai's slender fingers make quick work of his coat as he tosses it to the side, eyes focused on you, only you. he doesn't have time to wonder if this is what you wanted all along of if it's just the sex scene in the romcom that's making him do this, but one thing leads to another and soon he's eating you out, tongue turning the edges of your vision white.

if you had doubts about the existence of heaven before, they were gone now. you swear you can see stars as dazai eats you out, and the lewd sounds that fall from your lips are downright sinful. you beg for more, more, more, and dazai obeys, giving you everything that you ask for.

it's funny how weeks of underlying tension can be eliminated in the span of an hour, but if there's anyone who could do it, it'd be dazai. as his tongue flicks in and out of your drenched cunt, your ability to form cohesive words vanishes, and all you're left with is his name.

"god, 'samu, please don't stop," you gasp, hands tangled in his hair as he looks up at you from his spot in between your thighs. his mouth has always worked wonders on you, whether it's through his poetic words or if it's through his skillful tongue, and now is no different.

your chest heaves as the coil in your stomach tightens as you feel yourself getting closer to your breaking point. you're entirely convinced that the world's stopped around you, and that there's nothing but you, dazai, and his lips in the universe.

if death was like what you were feeling right now, then by all means, you were entirely willing to give up your life for pleasure like this. the feeling of transcendence from your spot beneath dazai to a world above was unlike any other, and only dazai could take your hand and lead you there.

"eyes on me, darling," dazai murmurs, voice barely audible over the smutty noises coming out of your mouth. somehow, his voice is steady, and if you weren't so fucked out, you'd overthink this by leaps and bounds.

you chant his name like a prayer as you fight to keep your eyes open. you want nothing more than to tilt your head back and close your eyes, but somehow, you're certain dazai would end this torturous, hedonistic moment if you were to disregard his words.

blind faith was stupid, so stupid, but times like these would make you follow dazai anywhere. his words, his lips, his eyes, all of it. who were you, a mere mortal, to resist his decadent charms?

"more," you whisper.

he gives you more. dazai fucks you until your vision is hazy and you can't feel anything but him, and when you finally start to come down from your hour-long high, you're met with the sound of his sultry laugh.

"you wanted this, didn't you?" dazai breathes, eyeing you intently.

you nod, unable to do much more than that. dazai hums in reply, lean body collapsing on top of you. his mind is spinning, processing thousands of little details and thoughts all at once. his head hurts, his body's sore, and he's tired and ready to sleep, but one look at your fucked-out smile and he's hungry for more.

dazai presses his lips to your bare shoulder, and maybe you're imagining it, but you sense an undertone of self-satisfaction in what he whispers next.

"that's what i thought."

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parkerdoeswriting · 2 years ago

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I Don’t Wanna Keep Secrets Just to Keep You

(TASM!Peter Parker x GN Reader)

category: fluff with sort of angsty undertones?

summary: reader is dating spiderman for a half a year, they want to see his face.

warnings: not a lot tbh, breakup themes but that’s it

word count: 1.3K

A/N: Kinda a part two no one asked for to Walking Back Home, but you don’t gotta read it to understand this

It’s been 6 months since you and Spider-Man had that moment together in the alleyway. He was the most amazing boyfriend ever. From the late night talks on the rooftop of your guy’s “spot”, to him “walking” (swinging) you home from school each day, and him sneaking into your room from the fire escape so you can help him with his injuries.

But you couldn’t help but feel- upset about the whole relationship? You’ve never seen his face, you don’t know anything about him besides the fact he’s your age and he’s a guy, and you can’t even confirm those things!

“Penny for your thoughts?” a voice breaks your pondering, bringing you back to your room.

You look at the voice, seeing Peter, you remember you invited him over so you guys could study for finals. You smile faintly at your best friend, Peter knows all about you and Spider-Man’s relationship, so you could tell him about it.

“Just thinking about bug boy” you sigh, resting your face on your knees.

“What about him?” Peter says, scooching closer.

“Oh, uh, it’s nothing” you rub your neck, not wanting to tell Peter about your doubts.

He raises an eyebrow at you not wanting to tell him what you were thinking about. You blush as soon as you realize what he was thinking.

“No- no! It’s not- those thoughts” you bury your face into your palms, laughing softly.

“So why don’t you tell me?” he laughs, looking at you.

“Fine, I’m having- doubts” you confess, biting your lip.

You can see Peter’s face faintly drop, his eyes widening.

“Wh-what?!” he exclaims, his mouth agape.

“It’s not that I don’t love him, I really do, I just don’t know like- anything about him!” you say, fidgeting with the hem of your shirt.

“I just, I wanna be able to see him without a mask, like a regular boyfriend?” you add, your face contorted with frustration.

Peter remains silent, he looks kinda- sad?

“Come on, tell me you didn’t grow attached to my boyfriend from my stories” you joke, trying to lighten the mood.

“No, that’d be crazy” he rolls his eyes playfully at you.

“So, are we gonna study or not?” you give him your signature smile, grabbing your notes.

Timeskip two days later..

You were still sitting in your room studying alone, your parents out with friends. You yawn, debating just giving in to sleep. You get up from your bed, heading to your wardrobe to grab your pajamas, shuffling through your drawers.

Knock knock knock…

You turn, the familiar knocking on the window making you sort of guilty. You were sort of ignoring your boyfriend, your doubts making it hard to face him. You shuffle over to the window, opening it, letting the warm air flow in.

“Hi babe” Spider-Man says, sliding in and giving you a swift masked kiss.

You smile faintly, burying your face into his chest, tracing the spider emblem with your fingers.

“Whatcha doing here?” you whisper softly, taking in his scent just in case you break up with him tonight.

“Wanted to see you” he mumbles back, rubbing your back.

You both stay like this for a while, waiting to see who the first to let go is.

“You staying for the night or are ya heading out?” you pull away, grabbing your pajamas and a pair of emergency pajamas for your boyfriend.

“Staying” he says, his shoulders dropping as you pull away, taking the pajamas from you.

You smile faintly at him as you swiftly change into your pajamas, not minding him staring. You walk back to your bed, falling down onto it. He watches you, changing from his suit to the pajamas. You sigh as he joins you, noticing he still hasn’t taken off his mask.

“Penny for your thoughts?” he asks, falling back in the same manner as you, cuddling your body.

“Mm, it’s nothing” you rest your hands on his face, picturing what it’d be like to feel his skin.

He removes your hands from his mask, cupping them inside his hands, bringing them close to his chest.

“I don’t think it’s nothing” he whispers, resting his forehead against yours.

You suck in a breath, averting your eyes so you don’t have to look at him, your memory flickering back to your conversation with Peter.

“I just, I wanna be able to see him without a mask, like a regular boyfriend?”

“Hey, please tell me?” he adds, still clutching your hands, bringing you back to the present.

“Will I ever see your face?” you blurt out, your face heating up more and more by the second.

I can feel his body tense beside me, his hands clutching a little tighter around mine. I can feel him sigh, pressing his forehead a little harder against mine.

“I’m just.. scared” he replies sadly.

“Why would you be scared?” you caress his face as you sit up, looking down at him.

“I don’t want you to think I’m a loser or something and dump me” he answers, leaning into your touch.

“I could never, I think I could love you no matter what” you frown, sort of upset that he thinks you're that shallow.

No one dares to speak next, leaving you in uncomfortable silence for what seemed like ages.

“Do you want to see?” he whispers so quietly you can barely pick up on it.

Your eyes widen, your head slowly nodding up and down. He sits up as well, both of your hearts beating with anticipation.

“Can you uh, look away for a second?” he asks, his voice cracking.

“Mhm” you turn around, fidgeting with your fingers as you wait.

Spiderman lifts up his mask and sets it in your lap, causing your heart to flutter. Peter plays with his hair to fluff it back up as he breathes in to calm his nerves.

“You can look now” he informs you, his heart racing more and more.

You take your time turning around, you don’t know what or who you expected to be behind the mask. Your eyes subconsciously shut, only opening when you’re sure you’re making direct eye contact with him.

You let out a soft gasp as you see your best friend sitting there, your eyes and mouth widening.

“P-Peter?” you reply, your face heating up.

“H-hi” he responds, his voice sounding ashamed.

You look at him, disbelief flooding on your face. Memories come back of things you’ve shared about Spiderman to Peter, and you’re surprised you hadn’t put the dots together sooner.

“I’m sorry” his voice quakes as his eyes brim with tears, his hand clutching onto his pant fabric.

He starts crying, but you can’t move. Peter, your best friend, your- boyfriend?

“Peter?” you repeat again, finally snapping from the dazed out state you were in.

“Yeah..” he wipes his tears, putting on a brave face.

You can’t help yourself, you should be furious at Peter for not telling you, but you aren’t. How could you be so mad at the boy you love?

You leap forward in bed, wrapping your arms around him as you bury your face into his neck. You can feel his body start to sniffle again, reciprocating the hug.

“You’re not mad?” he says weakly, his hands clutching you like you’ll fall through his fingers.

“I’m fucking furious, I love you” you pull back, holding his face in your hands.

He doesn’t know whether or not to frown or smile, whether or not to pull away or kiss you.

“I love you Peter, okay? I’ll love you no matter what” you reassure him, pecking his lips.

He smiles faintly against your lips, holding you closer.

“Thank you for showing me your secret”

#why can’t he look at me like that #andrew garfield x reader #tasm!peter x reader #tasm!peter fanfiction #peter parker x reader #tasm! peter x you #tasm #peter parker fluff #peter parker x you #peter parker x y/n #peter parker imagine #peter parker fanfiction #tasm!peter parker #tasm!peter x you #tasm!spiderman x reader #tasm!peter imagine

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missmeinyourbones · 2 years ago

Note

Hiiiii L!!! Congrats on ur milestone bby!! It was so hard to choose a prompt I was stuck on so many of them but I’d love to see ur take on the prompt “weird, but fucking beautiful” with Touya<333

WEIRD, BUT FUCKING BEAUTIFUL (t. todoroki)

a/n: bad communicator dabi, reader has a birthmark, descriptions of skin and scarring (???) angsty undertones but ultimately very soft (like dabi), i love u oz

L’s MIDNIGHTS EVENT!

There's a lot that Dabi can't say.

He thinks his lack of verbal charisma was wired into his brain and decided by the stars above from the very moment he was born into this world.

It's not for a lack of feeling, he likes to justify. In his head, Dabi has said what he would deem to be Shakespearean things about how much he loves you—but when it comes time to turn those thoughts into syllables from his lips, they never sound nearly as nice.

Something Dabi is good at, he likes to think, is admiring you. It comes natrually, he doesnt need to think about it.

He loves learning about your body, finding out new things about your skin and shape and self. Enjoys learning how you like to be touched, how you like to be loved without the words he can't really say. He thinks that must be how people in love feel, a bit foolish but willing to sit in silence just to catch a glimpse of something worth while.

Having crawled out of bed and whined about your soreness from last night, you search the room for your discarded jeans. And Dabi does what he does best and watches you.

He appreciates how your skin stretches and bounces when you bend down to grab your pants. How it pudges by your hips and tummy when you shimmy into your jeans and fasten your zipper. He likes how your arms flex and arch as you button your bra around your torso—and he loves how your tiny little birthmark on your back contorts with the normalcy of it all.

It's moments like these, horribly mundane and, for a lack of a better word, boring, that make Dabi realize just how lost in you he actually is. The way you exist, ridiculously regular and undeniably human, makes him want to cry, sometimes. He doesn't think you realize how special that is, to be normal.

Your irritated tone interrupts (what you don't know to be) his sweet introspection.

"Would you stop that?"

You see the smallest twinge of a smile from the corner of his mouth when he plays along.

"Stop what?"

"Looking at me like that," he watches you shrink beneath his heavy gaze.

"Like what?"

You raise your eyebrows at him, in a look that reads nothing but annoyed, and he allows himself to huff out a sound of amusement at how easily aggravated you get sometimes.

"Oh come on, don't be pissy," he teases, but you choose to ignore his taunt and continue getting dressed.

He continues to watch you twist into your shirt, and he's grateful it's sleeveless as it leaves the pretty little imprint beneath your shoulder within his sight. He watches you catch his eye a few times, sees how you grow more irritated with each and every flicker of his stare on your skin.

When you (not so) gently scoot past him to collect your phone from the nightstand, he's quick to wrap his fingers around your wrist and guide you closer to him.

With a scowl on your face, you let him. His hand finds your chin, turning you upward to look at him, pout and all.

"Hey," he whispers with a bit of an edge, one he doesn't mean to have but has accepted as a part of him. When you flicker your eyes over him, he softens his bite a bit, "Talk."

After a sigh or two, your response comes shy, flushed.

"I don't like when you stare at me like that," you whisper against his palm and he can feel the heat of your cheeks flooding with embarrassment.

"Feels like you're making fun of me or something."

"Making fun of you?" his face frowns in genuine confusion. "The fuck are you talking about?"

Not sure if he's fucking with you or not, you take a beat to read his expression. He's serious, for once—you can tell there's no ill will in his furrowed brows and slightly concerned eyes.

Eventually, you deflate and state the obvious, "You're looking at my birthmark."

…Yeah?

"And?" he decides to say instead.

"And I hate it," your voice becomes a bit more strained, "so stop looking at it."

Genuinely confused at the sudden tension between you two, Dabi shrugs and loosens his grip on your jaw, leaving his hand gently ghosting your skin instead of holding you in place.

He sounds a bit critical when he scoffs, "What's there to hate? It's a birthmark."

"It's gross and weirdly shaped and ugly."

And he can't but wince at the pure irony of your words. Because you're always the first person to kiss his scars, trace their growing and scaling patches, and remind him that they're beautiful because they're his.

And here you are, loathing something as measly as a barely noticeable birthmark for the sole reason that it's yours.

He wants to tell you what you tell him, that it's beautiful because it's yours. That he wants to trace it with his tongue and see its outline when he closes his eyes.

But Dabi isn't that poetic, so he settles for shrugging and using his free hand to reach out and touch it.

As his calloused thumb skims the mark, he hums to himself in thought.

"Was thinking about how it's kinda shaped like a mushroom."

He smiles a bit when your eyes roll at his statement. Your skin heats up again when you weakly remind him that, "It's weird."

"Yeah," he merely agrees with a soft nod, "but it doesn't make me want you any less."

Gently, he takes the pad of his thumb and lovingly swipes it across your bottom lip, caressing the skin and attempting to let his touch say what his words can't.

And you know, he knows you know. Because even though Dabi isn't great with words and can't say what he means, what he feels, that doesn't mean he doesn't feel it. He feels it more deeply than anyone you've ever known.

In the softness of the moment, you cock your head to the side and gently bite down on the length of this thumb. It's unexpected but doesn't hurt, and Dabi knows you well enough to know what it says. Thank you. I love you.

He nearly blushes at the intimacy, mumbling out a sarcastic, "Fuckin' ow."

"Don't be a baby," you choose to gently kiss the spot you sunk your teeth into, "that didn't hurt."

It didn't, he thinks. I liked it.

Again, his tongue betrays him, "You're so weird."

Allowing yourself to lean into his touch, your voice taunts him a bit. "But that doesn't make you want me any less, does it?"

Dabi chooses the easy way out and simply kisses you, and through this tongue gently prodding at your bottom lip, you know his answer.

No, it doesn't.

#L's MIDNIGHTS EVENT!#dabi x reader #touya todoroki x reader #dabi x you #touya todoroki x you #dabi fic #touya todoroki fic #dabi angst #dabi fluff #touya todoroki angst #touya todoroki fluff

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blackenedsnow · 5 months ago

Note

I really liked the first Frieza/Frost oneshot you did! It was so sweet!

I hope you don’t mind another idea. A more angsty idea. One where Frost is dealing with some nightmares that’s keeping him up, and tries to keep it a secret from Frieza. But one night, Frieza overhears him having another nightmare and wakes him, and then comforts him when he’s scared and upset.

Sorry if that sounds like a lot 😅.

shattered dreams

WARNING: Nightmares

PAIRING: Frieza x Frost

NOTE: Hellooo! I’m so glad you liked the first one-shot with Frost and Frieza. I really enjoyed writing it! Take care of yourself and I hope you enjoy!

SUMMARY: Frost has been struggling with nightmares, but out of pride, he tries to hide his fears from Frieza.

The moonlight cast faint shadows across the cold metal walls of the ship’s bedroom. The soft hum of machinery seemed distant, a contrast to the turbulent storm inside Frost’s mind. As he lay still beneath the covers, his chest rose and fell with the rhythm of a sleep that wasn’t quite peaceful.

Frost’s nightmares had been tormenting him for weeks, each one more vivid than the last. Every time he closed his eyes, memories from his dark past resurfaced, too real, too sharp to ignore. Faces twisted in agony, the overwhelming feeling of powerlessness… it all haunted him, chasing him even in the silence of the night.

He didn’t dare let Frieza see this side of him. The fear. The weakness. The last thing he needed was to appear less than perfect in his master’s eyes. So, he kept it to himself, endured the sleepless nights, and hoped the torment would eventually fade.

But tonight… tonight, it felt different. Frost’s body jerked awake, sweat slicking his brow. His breathing was erratic, his heart hammering in his chest as the remnants of his nightmare clung to him like an iron shackle. His hands shook slightly as he sat up, trying to calm the panic threatening to overwhelm him.

Just breathe… he thought, rubbing his eyes with the back of his hand. Just breathe and it’ll go away…

But the images were still there. The phantom faces, the overwhelming sense of dread. His body trembled in the aftermath, the reality of the nightmare too vivid to shake off.

It wasn’t until he heard the soft sound of footsteps behind him that he realized he wasn’t alone.

“Frost,” a voice spoke, low but undeniably commanding.

Frieza stood in the doorway, his sharp gaze focused on him, unwavering. Frost froze, every muscle tensing. How long had he been standing there?

“Did you think I wouldn’t hear you?” Frieza’s voice was quiet, but there was a note of something… softer. Was it concern? Frost wasn’t sure.

“I… it’s nothing. Just a bad dream,” Frost stammered, quickly wiping his face to hide any traces of weakness. He didn’t want Frieza to see him like this—vulnerable, unsettled.

“Bad dream?” Frieza repeated with a faint, bemused smirk. He crossed the room, his boots clicking against the floor with every step. “You’ve been having these nightmares for a while now. And I’m certain it’s not ‘nothing’.”

Frost turned his face away, his gaze falling to the floor, hoping Frieza wouldn’t press further. But Frieza didn’t let it go.

Without warning, Frieza placed a hand gently on his shoulder. Frost flinched, surprised by the unexpected gesture. But when he looked up, he saw a softness in Frieza’s eyes—something rare, something that wasn’t about control or power.

“You don’t have to hide this from me,” Frieza said, his tone quieter now, almost… tender.

Frost felt the pressure of his fears, the ones he’d held in for so long, start to unravel. His throat tightened as emotions bubbled up, threatening to break free. But he fought it, refusing to show weakness. He didn’t want to be weak.

But Frieza wasn’t having it. He turned Frost to face him fully, his grip firm but reassuring on his shoulders.

“Listen to me,” Frieza said, voice steady and commanding, but there was an undertone of something more human beneath it. “I don’t care if you’re scared. You don’t need to hide from me. If you’re hurting, I’ll help you."

Frost’s heart pounded, the words overwhelming him. Mine to protect. The words felt foreign, but they also felt… right. He closed his eyes for a moment, letting the gravity of Frieza’s words sink in.

“I’m not weak,” Frost finally managed, his voice barely above a whisper. “I just… I’m just... frightened. Sometimes, I can’t help it. The dreams—”

Frieza raised a hand to silence him. “It’s alright to be scared, Frost. Everyone has their demons. The difference is how we face them. And you… you won’t face them alone.”

A deep breath rattled through Frost. He hadn’t let anyone in like this before. Not even Frieza. But now, with his hand gently gripping his shoulders, offering him comfort in a way Frost never expected, the dam inside him broke.

He let out a shaky breath, his body shaking as he finally gave in.

Frieza didn’t flinch at the sight. He simply held Frost close, letting the prince of cold endure his moment of vulnerability without judgment.

“There’s no shame in letting go, Frost,” Frieza murmured, his voice soft but unwavering. “No shame in trusting me to take care of you.”

Frost clung to the reassurance, his heartbeat slowing as the comfort washed over him. He didn’t have all the answers yet, but for the first time in a long time, he felt like he could survive the night. With Frieza by his side, maybe even thrive.

And that thought, for the first time, brought him peace.

#dragon ball #dragon ball fanfic #dragon ball fanfiction #frieza x frost #ask #request #fanfic #oneshot #frieza #frost #dragon ball super

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wangxianficfinder · 2 years ago

Text

Fic Finder

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1. Hi! I hope you can help me find this fic.

Wangxian is married here. Lan zhan was cursed to forget his love to wei ying and wei ying did everything (like studying the curse) to lift it out. I remember in the end, Lwj remember his love to wei ying and apologized to wwx for treating him bad. He felt guilty and resentful to himself but wwx assured him that its fine since he was cursed

NOT FOUND! stuck under the moon by perilously (E, 13k, WangXian, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Temporarily Unrequited Love, Angst with a Happy Ending, Cursed LWJ, Non-Penetrative Sex, Post-Canon)

FOUND! could be "an effect (without a cause)" by astrobandit, which is deleted from ao3. If this is the fic they are looking for, i have a copy.

NOT FOUND! Blue water by huxiyi (E, 24k, WangXian, Post-Canon, Temporary Amnesia, Case Fic, Curses, Cultivation Sect Politics, Established Relationship, Angst with a Happy Ending, References to Depression, Discussion of Grief, Discussion of bodies, Explicit Sexual Content, Dom/sub Undertones, Under-negotiated Kink, Additional Warnings In Author's Note)

NOT FOUND! Unavoidable by diamondbruise (T, 18k, WangXian, Post-Canon, Amnesia, Jealousy, Misunderstandings, Falling In Love, Again, Happy Ending)

NOT FOUND! tonight i can write the saddest lines by sarahyyy (G, 3k, WangXian, Post-Canon, Established Relationship, Amnesia, Falling In Love, Domestic Fluff)

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2. Can anyone help me find a fic where part of it talks about how if he'd asked, JY would have done WWX's hair for him like she did JC's, but he never asked so he learnt on his own (possibly to avoid YZY's rage?)

FOUND? Always walked a very thin line by tucuxi (T, 22k, NHS & WWX, JYL & WWX, WangXian) It's a small bit that happens when NHS is brushing WWX's hair, and WWX thinks that nobody's done that for a long time

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3. Hello!! I'm looking for a jiang wanyin/lan xichen centric fic where jc is stuck in a time loop??

He repeats his lives 5-6 times and lan xichen remembers all the timelines where he actually already loved jc

But he married meng yao as a friendship marriage in one tl

In another tl jc murdered meng yao and lxc witnesses amd goes into seclusion because of it

combining the lxc/jc + the time loop tags yields only three fics so it should be easy to find the right one (i haven't read any of them so i wasn't sure), and looking for lxc/jc + searching the word 'groundhog' turns up one more fic but it doesn't seem relevant to the ask

NOT FOUND! Incrementally by xxdz (M, 15k, WIP, XiCheng, Time Loop, Horror, Murder Mystery, Inspired by Happy Death Day (Movies), Post-Canon, Blood and Injury, Hurt/Comfort, Temporary Character Death, Character Study)

NOT FOUND! there is no one beside me by h0ngcha (Not Rated, 16k, WIP, XiCheng, Time Loop, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, PTSD, Suicide, Mental Instability, Depression, Mild Gore, Canon Divergence, Suicidal Thoughts, JFM's A+ parenting, Bittersweet Ending)

NOT FOUND! silver bell by willowcatkin (G, 8k, XiCheng, Post-Canon, Time Loop, yunmeng bros reconciliation, Sort Of, Canon Divergence, Angst with a Happy Ending, JC-centric)

FOUND! Four Out of Five by castieldeansangel (T, 9k, XiCheng, WangXian, XiYao, One-sided ChengQing, Time Travel, 5 Times, Fix-It of Sorts, XiCheng endgame, Angst with a Happy Ending, JC-centric, Butterfly Effect, Dubious Morality, Canon Divergence)

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4. you guys are wonderful! thank you so much for all your help finding fics!!! i have a half itmf/half fic finder question --- any angsty dark lan clan fics that focus on wei ying, but especially one where they break his soul bond(?) with Lan Zhan --- i think i remember one where later on they need WY's help - any suggestions greatly appreciated! (also in an Itmf)

FOUND? Say my name and his in the same breath by ataratah (M, 38k, WIP, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Soulmates, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, Rejection, Mutual Pining, Found Family Feels, Temporary Character Death, magical baby aquisition, Angst with a Happy Ending, No Golden Core Transfer, Somebody Lives/Not Everyone Dies)

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5. hello! theres this fic i know i read on ao3 but cant seem to find in my history or bookmarks. i hope it wasnt deleted. its post canon, lan zhan and wei ying go out on a mission but lan zhan gets infected or hit with a curse without them noticing, and starts gradually losing all his senses, starting with hearing, then i think sight, then so on until he cant move or do anything at all and he’s at risk of death. wei ying and lan xichen figure out together how it happened and they save him so lan zhan is completely healed by the end. i believe it was either M or E rated bc there were a couple sex scenes early on but i dont think they were very explicit. i hope you can find this fic, thank you so much!!

FOUND! shadows in the sun rise by Yuu_chi (E, 24k, WangXian, Post-Canon, Night hunts, Curses, Intimacy, Light Angst with a Happy Ending, They're married and they're in love)

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6. Hi! I read this incredible fic a while back and forgot to bookmark it - it's about WWX losing his memories when he comes back and getting to know LWJ as Mo Xuanyu while he tries to uncover his past?

FOUND? Love Song In Reverse by timetoboldlygo (T, 237k, WangXian, Amnesia, Canon Divergence, Angst with a Happy Ending, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Non-Sexual Intimacy, Falling In Love, Slow Burn, agressively mixing and matching novel and cql canon, No Homophobia, Mentions of Starvation, Parental WWX)

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7. Hi! Can you help me find these 2 fics? I tried filtering out but can’t still find it.

A) Modern Au. Wwx left the jiang family and then met Lwj. I remember the two started living together but then as the time passed by, wwx notices that lwj isolating him to outside world. I also remember wwx broke up with lwj but lwj is stubborn keep coming to wwx school. He even threaten wwx about the jiang family so he’ll come back to him.

B) Modern au too I think? I only remember Lwj saw wwx burying a dead body (i think it was wen chao) and assist him on it.

Thank you so much!

7A)

FOUND! It had to be Fate by darkbrokenreaper (E, 4k, WangXian, Modern AU, College/University, Emotional Manipulation, Gaslighting, Rape/Non-con Elements, Obsession, Possessive Behavior, dark!LWJ)

7B)

NOT FOUND! release me from the present by merlinnn (E, 34k, WangXian, Modern AU, College/University, Explicit Sexual Content, Dark Academia, Also Light Academia, Studying,Lots of it, Implied/Referenced Sexual AssaultV, iolence, Murder, Dead Poets Society, brief homophobic language, body disposal, Mildly Dubious Consent)

FOUND? 🔒 The inherent romanticism of hiding a body together by Aki_no_hikari (T, 4k, WangXian, First Meetings, Love at First Sight, Modern, Corpse Desecration, Corpse Disposal, Pigs, dark Wangxian)

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8. Hello! The fic I am looking for is one where Jiang Cheng somehow erases Wei Wuxian from existence. Jiang Yanli lives as a consequence, but now everyone is subjugated by the Wen, as without WWX the Sunshot Campaign lost. I have only seen this fic in passing and really want to read it but now I can't find it lol. I remember that there was a tag for "Lan Zhan | Lan Wangji / Wei Ying | Wei Wuxian", so I assume at some point they get him back, but I cannot remember any more details other than this. Thank you so much for your help and I hope you have a wonderful day!!! @coffeeshopdragons

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

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9. hi ! me again 😅 i was wondering if any of you know the fic where lan wangji forgets about his love for wei wuxian (i think he got cursed?) and is very indifferent towards him. It starts with him forgetting to buy chili oil for wy to him not wanting to spend time together anymore. At one point he asks wwx “why did i marry you?”. I think lwj was conscious the entire time he was cursed and was heartbroken bc he could see how everything he said and did was hurting wy. I knew i read it recently but i cant find it in my history for some reason. thanks so much you guys are amazing <33 @makkachiin

FOUND! Does anyone even read work titles? idk what to call this by Nighttdust (M, 14k, WangXian, Curses, Hurt/Comfort, Angst, though not to much, Both get hurt both get comforted, Established Relationship, Post-Canon, Happy Ending, Protective WWX, Insecurity, a bit only)

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10. Hello! Currently looking for a fic in which LWJ and WWX spent a night together in a tent and there was misunderstanding when LWJ woke up thinking he forced WWX to have papapa-

JC ends up threatening LWJ if WWX ends up preggo then he will not be allowed to see them (I think Wuxian was a carrier??), because JYL then entered the tent right after LWJ left and saw WWX all bruised up (it was hickies) whilst passed out (sleeping only) and assumed LWJ SA her Xianxian. JGY and LXC are also there-

FOUND? The Teapot Plot by ToxicAngel13 (M, 51k, WangXian, Misunderstandings, protective Jiang siblings, Golden Core Reveal, Golden Core Transfer Fix-It, Idiots in Love, Post-Sunshot Campaign, Pre-Burial Mounds, Potential for M-Preg, Fix-It, Emotional Hurt/Comfort)

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11. Hi, I'm looking for a fic where wei ying starts out in the modern world as a doctor who has fallen on hard times and can't practice as one anymore because of previous mistakes. He dies in a lab explosion and gets sent to the canon-time cultivation world, where everyone believes he's an evil megalomaniac. Lan zhan realizes that wei ying isn't evil and takes him back to cloud recesses, where wei ying learns cultivation - there is some smutty dual cultivation involved, then comes happy every after. @annie-booksforfood

FOUND? Transverse by Kytrin, Mslead (E, 192k, WangXian, ChengSang, ZhuiLing, ZhenYi, Dimension Travel, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Enemies to Lovers, Transmigration, Past Lives, Canon-Typical Death, Don't worry - he gets better)

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12. Hiya! I saw on this post for Medium Blues over on WangxianFicRecs that there's a short sequel to the fic, but I haven't been able to find it anywhere. I looooove the fic so much and would really like to read the sequel, so I'm wondering if anyone happens to have more info or a copy? Thank you! @gentil-minou (the author may have deleted the sequel because medium blues had been deleted before - Mod C)

Oooh I do remember that a medium blues sequel was begun but I think only a chapter or so was posted?

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13. Hey, can you please help me find a series?

It's about a-Yuan, and he could see ghosts/spirits. He could see WWX, he drew Madam Lan, and he spoke about YZY to JC when he was in Lotus Pier and called her violet spider. @utxqia

FOUND! 🧡 Lan Sizhui Sees Dead People Series by darkbrokenreaper (T, 30k, WIP, WangXian, LWJ & LSZ, JC & LSZ, Canon Divergence, Fluff, Kid Fic, Hurt/Comfort, lsz sees dead people, Paranormal)

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14. Hello, this for the “Find a Specific Fic” tag. I’ve been looking for fic staring a older Lan Wangji who gets sent back to the cloud recess ark, and meets his younger self who becomes jealous. The younger Lan Wangji is jealous because Wei Ying is no longer pestering him anymore, opting to instead follow the older Lan Wangji who spoils him. Hopefully this helps, and thank you for your hard work. Sincerely, Bianca. @biancabaryonx

FOUND? vinegar jug by dandelion_san (G, 7k, WIP, WangXian, Time Travel, Humor, Awkward Crush, Jealousy)

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15. Hello, I'm trying to find a fic where both Mo Xuanyu and Wei Wuxian get cursed. All I can remember is that Lan Wangji ends up in the woods and WWX helps him getting out, but when he tries to thank him WWX disappears. LWJ then finds the Jiangs and inquires about him but they can't actually remember him: they only remember they had a brother once (I think?). Hope this makes enough sense and thanks in advance

NOT FOUND! Second Summer by Anonymous (M, 142k, WIP, WangXian, canon, Post-Sunshot Campaign, Mystery, Amnesia, Memory Loss, Curses, Somebody Lives/Not Everyone Dies, somebody lives/somebody else dies, Golden Core Reveal, canon-typical lack of lube)

FOUND? never been away so long by sundiscus (G, 905, WangXian, Modern AU, Pre-Relationship, First Meetings, Ambiguous/Open Ending, (but a happy ending in the endnotes!), Ghosts, crossposted from Twitter)

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16. needing y'all's help again i cant remember the fic where wwx agreed to transfer(??) or visit or help a school/workplace bc he gets to use a mass spectrometer. i can't remember the plot, just that tidbit T_T thank you so much

NOT FOUND! The Best Gift by Lan_Wangjoe (E, 45k, WangXian, Modern AU, Mistaken Identity,Miscommunication, Romantic Fluff, Family Fluff, Family Dynamics, Falling In Love, Idiots in Love, Nice LQR, Fake Science, Science Husbands, Adopted Sibling Relationship, Adopted Children, Marriage of Convenience, Secret Marriage, Didn't Know They Were Dating, Himbo LXC, Everyone Is Alive, Good Parents JFM and YZY, Genius WWX) it doesn’t have a spectrometer as such, but I think it might be this one?

FOUND! 🧡 CSI: Gusu Edition Series by Stratisphyre (M, 39k, WangXian, WWX & LQR, Modern with Magic AU, College AU, Golden Core Reveal, Single parent WWX, Good Uncle LQR, Hospitalization, Allusions to violence and murder) the first fic in csi gusu has the mass spectrometer :>

~*~

17. I'm back, like any other wangxian addict, for more ficfinding expertise!

A) always a girl WY is emperor LXC's concubine, who he shares with LWJ. Of course the 2 are in love and when LXC starts to tire of her and politics get in the way, they stage a withdrawal/escape and live happily ever after far away from the emperor in the south?

B) CR study arc, where LQR gives WWX the same advanced tests he gives LWJ. After, NHS complains about how his cheatsheet tips didn't make sense and that's how WWX found out about the harder test. @mreisse

17A)

FOUND! Red Lotus Blooming at Sunset by janewritesstuff (Jane_de_Plaine) (E, 18k, WangXian, XiXian, Jadecest, Implied Others/LXC, Royalty, Historical, Female WWX, Concubine WWX, Harem, Threesome - F/M/M, Porn With Plot, Consensual Infidelity, Voyeurism, Angst with a Happy Ending, extended tags in author's note, Dark LXC)

17B)

FOUND! Just Say Yes series by edenwolfie (M, 338k, wangxian, canon divergence, matchmaking, pining, cloud recesses study arc, getting together, fluff, humor, hurt/comfort, everyone lives au)

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18. Hi hello, I'm struggling to find this wangxian ao3 I'm hoping that it was not deleted. I don't really remember much but wei ying didn't die but got save from falling of a the cliff and when he gain consciousness he can't remember his name that's why the one who saved him gave him another identity and his been living that identity for years. On wangji side, this is still part of the story he raises lan yuan by himself, actually no one died in this fic jiang yanli is still alive

FOUND? Until The End by abCEE (M, 365k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, war changes people, resulting to OOC, no pinning, Established Relationship, Mpreg, Good Uncle LQR, a little grey LWJ, a bit of JC bashing from LWJ, BAMF JYL, 16 years of yearning, mainly CQL verse but has scenes from the novel as well, LSZ is WangXian's Child, WWX Has a New Golden Core, Canon Rewrite, Happy Ending, Fix-It of Sorts) WWX awakens in chapter 16 and his new name is Gengxin.

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19. Hello! Good day! I hope you can help me find this fic. I don’t know if it is a time-travel fic or not. All I can remember is that Madam Yu got pregnant and the sect leader, jiang yanli, jiang cheng, and wwx were happy. But eventually they learned that madam yu cheated (i forgot if its a wen or not) so the baby is actually not sect leader jiang’s child. I think they learned this after the masscre of lotus pier when madam yu ranaway.

FOUND? 💖 A Chance by CorkaHadesa (M, 86k, WangXian, Time Travel Fix-It, Sunshot Campaign, Pre-Sunshot Campaign, BAMF WWX, BAMF LWJ, Canon Divergence, Established WangXian, Married WangXian, Secret Marriage, OOC, Second Chances, YLLZ WWX, Homophobic Language, but only from YZY so it's not that important because she's a bad person, i don't agree with her words, Minor Character Death, Happy Ending, Mpreg, Not Everyone Dies AU, the dead ones are the bad ones)

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20. Hi. I'm looking for a fic that I was pretty sure was luckmoonly's and was in the many lan babies series but now I am worried about my brain because it's not there and the traces of it are gone, to the point I think I hallucinated that fic. But if I remember the title was "The fault in my core" and WWX was supposed to get his core removed but they found a core baby near it so they didn't continue the operation. Pls tell me I was just looking at the wrong place with my f-ed up memory 🥹 and the fic is somwhere out there and I was just too stupid to find it. Thank u in advance! ❤️

FOUND! The fic was deleted. All your informations (name, author etc.) were correct. I have a copy, if you want one. - @bluekittenfire

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

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