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generic-whumperz · 1 month

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The Aid: Chapter 8–Reflections

This chapter is dedicated to all my haunted bitches <3

(Happy 4-20!)

In an effort to cut down my novel-length CWs, I’m only listing chapter specific warnings from here on out, the full list of general content warnings for this series is on the Masterlist. Proceed with caution :)

CWs & TWs: Whumpee having his second revenge killing fantasy of the day, creepy/intimate whumper making pervy dick jokes and being a bully, Whumper getting dragged (deserved), partial nudity (non-sexual), briefest implication of past non-con (blink and you’ll miss it), bug and rodent mention, paranormal encounter, descriptions of a corpse-like creature (light gore and body horror), death mention (of previous Whumper)

Whumpee has some abilities, in this chapter you’ll see: THIS TEXT = EMPATHIC READING

Word count: 3,652

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“Hold still, Mutt. I don’t wanna cut ya,” Wyatt warned, sounding more cautious than usual, as he made a clean scrape of the razor to The Aid’s tilted-up cheek.

‘Since when do you pass up the opportunity to make me bleed?’ The Aid thought. This was worse; this was so much fucking worse than his feared toenail-clipping or lotion-lathering scenario. He’d rather have his damn nails ripped out with pliers than be stuck sitting pretty and bare-chested as his Master glided a shaver over his face.

A disgusting noise ripped through the air only a few seconds later and immediately assaulted his ears. Something sounding like a choked growl emerged from the older man—was Wyatt having a seizure? A heart attack? Only in his wildest dreams did he think he’d get to witness the rat bastard drop dead at his feet. The Aid’s eyes widened in alarm and suppressed excitement as he willed himself with every ounce of self-control not to move a muscle.

Once his Master fell to the floor, he’d pounce. Wrap his good hand around his neck. Squeeze, squeeze so fucking hard until his fingers tore through skin. Stare the asshole straight in the eye until the last flicker of light sizzled out.

Wyatt turned to the sink, his face bright pink and nose scrunched, still making that god-awful noise that bounced off the bathroom walls.

The Aid waited at the edge of his seat—any marvelous second now.

The ruckus cut off when Wyatt leaned over the counter and hocked a large, murk-yellow loogie in the sink. He rinsed the razor still clenched in his fist under the running faucet and cleared the remaining phlegm from his throat with a few more nasty hacks before making another pass on The Aid’s stunned face.

‘…How disappointing.’ The Aid’s thought came delayed, his usual stream of internal monologue halted by his unfortunate misreading of the situation. Sure, he was annoyed by his Master’s comment, frustrated for losing himself in the second murder fantasy of the day, but he was even more peeved by the bastard’s gross abuse of his sink—his beautiful sink carved out of imported gold-veined Carrara marble.

He was only half a stroke of the razor in before Wyatt stormed into the bathroom—without warning or so much as a courtesy knock on the doorframe—and informed him he was taking too goddamn long and needed to wrap up the dog and pony show. Some words were exchanged, somehow leading to the brute snatching the razor from his hand and taking it upon himself to finish what The Aid started but was deemed incapable of finishing—because, as a 24-year-old man, he apparently couldn’t handle basic grooming.

“Ya were in that shower for an awfully long time,” Wyatt began, tossing The Aid a sly glance as if he knew a secret daren’t need repeating, but he would air out in the open anyway—classic Wyatt fuckery. “Bet ya enjoyed that alone time, huh? Must’ve gone to town on ya’self with uncloggin’ the pipes, eh?”

Wyatt rinsed the clump of white foam and whiskers off the razor as The Aid’s eyebrows pinched together and his mouth flattened into a thin frown, his stomach mercilessly twisting in on itself.

He didn’t even have a moment to respond, not like he wanted to, before Wyatt continued, “Ah, it’s all the meds, huh? Yeah, sometimes when I’m on antibiotics, I can’t rub one out right either. Or if I drink too much, but you know that.” The asshole had the ribald audacity to sprinkle some extra spice on the last words for added creepiness and then wink at him, much to his gut-churning dismay. Just throw it on the long, open tab of egregious offenses.

The Aid forced a painfully tight breath through his lungs and made a succession of slow blinks. Still wide-eyed and unsure how he ended up in this conversation he refused to partake.

Wyatt ogled The Aid up and down in a dramatic show of indifference. “What ya actin’ shy for, huh? We’re both guys—well, more or less,” he teased, dropping an octave to drive the message home that The Aid was just about as other as one could possibly get.

“But I suppose even the likes of you enjoy playing with ya’self. Got a dick, might as well use it, amirite?” Wyatt snickered, primarily to himself, as he made short strokes over The Aid’s chin.

Nope. That’s it. The Aid had enough—time to take the old dog out back.

“I was crying. A lot…Sir,” The Aid tersely responded, needing to end the topic above all else. Knowing the insight would likely invite ridicule, but preferring that over exchanging lewd locker room talk with his abuser.

Wyatt tsked, shaking his head. “Crying—yeah, that sounds more on brand for ya.” He almost sounded disappointed.

He paused a moment to rinse the razor before his lip curled as he scoffed out, “Big fucking crybaby. Ya’r eyes leak more than ya’r pecker.”

The Aid ignored the vulgar comment like he ignored much of everything else, letting it roll over him like cool water in a stream— besides, ‘You can’t make sense out of things where there isn’t any.’

Wyatt knuckled the underside of The Aid’s jaw to hold his face still as he started scrapping off his mustache in short glides. He sucked in his top lip in hopes of avoiding a nick, studying his Master’s face scrunch and furrow in concentration—the way Wyatt leaned in, the guiding, almost-tender support below his chin, the careful strokes of the razor against his skin, the delicate, purposeful closeness between them. It was familiar, almost felt okay, natural even.

He was the frog in a pot of boiling water, now simmering alive. He knew it and hated himself for it.

Wyatt continued working; the only sound heard for the next few minutes consisted of water spurting from the faucet and swirling down the drain with the occasional interrupting whooshes of the razor rinsed and taped against the lip of the sink to dispose of the billows of stubble-speckled foam.

He guided The Aid’s chin up so he faced the ceiling, making multi-directional glides on the underside of his jaw and neck. The Aid’s eyes slid to the side, fixed on the clearing in the middle of the mirror, the only section free of condensation from his long-overdue shower. His combed-through hair was still dripping wet, and his skin was still dewy from the lingering humidity.

A towel draped loosely around his waist, the only thing separating him and Wyatt. He tried not to think about how self-conscious he felt, how disgustingly intimate this invasion of privacy was. He tried to ignore Wyatt’s wondering gaze, working him over from head to toe. Rather, he placed his focus on observing the older man’s reflected movements work with an unfamiliar level of consideration for his welfare that he thought Wyatt was incapable of providing.

There—in the corner of his eye, he could’ve sworn he saw something dart out past the mirror's edge.

A bug? No, too big to be a bug. So, a rodent?

He knew damn well Wyatt wasn’t keeping up with the household chores during the past few months while he was out of commission, so varmints taking up residence was possible—likely even. His Master’s love affair with takeout was well-known and unmatched, and he seemed unfazed by being surrounded by rotting food and trash. He imagined just how filthy the living room, family room, front room, upstairs loft—and if he was fortunate, even the garage and pool house—must’ve gotten without his daily intervention. At that level, they’d probably need to call in an exterminator.

His eyes nervously flicked to the other side of him, where his large, porcelain soaker tub sat—nothing. If there were something, it would have been there plain as day.

He loosened a breath, trying to expel the wave of sweltering anxiety that flushed over him—

Mice. Rats. Cockroaches. Ants. Everywhere. An infestation of them.

Images of biting, creeping, diseased dregs of the animal kingdom invaded his mind. His skin ruddied from the prospect of waking up to a giant rat staring at him with those little creepy beady eyes he hated so much. A ripple of nerves detonated from the pit of his stomach, giving him the sensation like he ate fire for breakfast as shivers prickled under his skin. He unconsciously balled his left hand into a fist, his fingernails digging into his palm.

“What?” Wyatt spat, taking notice of the tension feather in his jaw.

“Eyes playing tricks on me, Sir. Happens sometimes without my glasses on,” The Aid explained, glancing at the counterspace where he left his glasses before getting in the shower.

“Jumpy little fucker,” Wyatt murmured, gliding the razor over his Adam’s apple.

There—again. In the misty reflection, The Aid thought he saw three spindly, mossy green fingers with long, blackened nails curling over the side of the tub.

Well, that sure as shit wasn’t a rat.

He blinked frantically in the mirror, paralyzed as every hair on his body bristled. Only one other thing besides the man in front of him elicited this level of primal terror. And it wasn’t rodents.

“Fuckin’ hell, Shortcake, what’s ya’r damage today? Did I deprive ya’r freak-of-nature brain of too much oxygen, and now ya’r short circuitin’ on me?” Wyatt grumbled, not concealing the twist of bitter amusement cutting through his scathing glare. He must’ve noticed the sprouting goosebumps.

“Sorry, Sir, I’m just…cold,” The Aid lied, allowing himself to tremble, hoping it would pass as shivering.

Wyatt’s eyes narrowed. “Cold? Ya don’t feel cold to me. Ya basically turned this place into a fuckin’ sauna. Best knock this funny shit off. And ya wonder why ya get the shit knocked outta ya, can’t ever act right. God damn idiot.”

CONTEMPT

Wyatt’s projected emotion shouted at him without even a tap of mind-prodding. The contempt he could deal with; he’d gotten used to it like some dimwitted friend he only tolerated in small doses when no one else was around to talk to. But he’d welcome contempt with open arms and freshly baked cookies if it meant evading the prowling malefic forces.

He kept quiet as his Master lined up his sideburns, eyes glued on watching him work in the mirror—he needed a degree of separation. The Aid couldn’t stand staring at the brute’s ugly mug head-on.

Wyatt’s eyes scared him the most, they always had, ever since the first day they met over six years ago at his Master’s 50th Birthday Bash Madame Eleanor threw for him.

His eyes were a chilling shade of icy blue, dead blue—the blue of frostbite and cracks in a frozen lake that would splinter, break beneath your feet and swallow you whole within seconds. His downturned, frosted eyes sunk deep and high under his protruding brow. He had that naturally off-putting I-rant-in-my-truck-and-post-hate-videos-online look, complete with a permanent scowl etched on his thin-lipped mouth with naturally arched, bushy eyebrows. He kept his ashy brown, silver-stripped hair short and combed to the side in an effort to hide his cow lick. A grown-out chevron mustache hid his top lip while he kept the rest of his face clean-shaven. But, despite his efforts, his broad chin and neck always displayed the dreaded permanent 4 o’clock shadow commonly plaguing many middle-aged men.

On the rare occasions when Wyatt smiled at him or during the more frequent scenarios when his Master flashed his teeth in a rabid bear sort of way, The Aid couldn’t help but notice the worsening entangled mess in Wyatt’s mouth. Wyatt’s big teeth, yellowed and crooked, peaked through irritated and swollen-looking gums. At this point, The Aid was more than sure Wyatt caught a preventable case of gingivitis. The culprits? A straight-up lack of routine teeth brushing commingling with a nasty nicotine addiction he couldn’t kick. The daily consumed carton of cigs and the cuds of chewing tobacco nestled in the pocket of his bottom lip did no favors as far as oral health was concerned.

As if a torn-up grill wasn’t bad enough, Wyatt’s age and substance abuse showed clearly on his face: frown lines, forehead lines, crow’s feet, blush-burned and puffy cheeks from constant flushing, and a hawkish but equally reddened nose. His skin looked weathered and dehydrated; living in a desert certainly didn’t help his case. The Aid thought his Master appeared as if he were in the trenches of fighting off a perpetual allergic reaction. If the older man took better care of himself and used a nightly retinol cream and sunblock in place of drowning his sorrows in IPA 12-packs, lines of coke, and slot machines, maybe he wouldn’t look so haggard.

The rest of Wyatt Sullivan only highlighted his villainous features. He was massive, pro-wrestler huge—broad-shouldered, burley, and too damn tall. The Aid thought of him as the Brawny paper towel guy’s evil older brother, but with a beer gut and a drug problem.

After intake, Handler Bryce categorized The Aid as “happy and temperate.” Later, he even went so far as to market his personality as “eager to please”—and that he was, despite how much he disliked the term. He performed all his domestic duties with a bright smile and a peppy “at once, Madame” or an “as you wish, Sir.” He kept a praiseworthy, straight-backed posture and spoke correctly in a measured, even tone—just like how he was taught. He was the whole Mystic Grand Servant package and then some. Yet, he’d instead focus on the half-man, half-Uruk-hai orc in front of him that broke down every carefully built pillar of poise and A1 caregiving and turned him from a regal investment to a cowering dog in a matter of months than acknowledge the phantom digits lurking in the reflection.

There.

Again.

In the tub.

A fuzzy mass of black and green moved.

‘No. No. No. Go away. Not here, not now. Not with him,’ The Aid pleaded, hoping this thing could somehow pick up his mental cry for a truce.

In the corner of his eye, he made out the blurred yet unmistakable shapes of skeletal, bony-knuckled fingers too long to be human drum on the tub’s edge slink down the side with each successive thrum in demand of his attention. Truce denied.

It could try all it wanted, but he utterly refused to give that thing even a quarter of a full-fledged glance. That’s how it got power—by him acknowledging it. It always started with something small—an audible finger tap, a ghostly whisper, glowing frost-colored eyes in the dark—to draw him in like a fish to a lure.

Oh, this thing wasn’t out to kill him—no, he didn’t think that was even possible. But it wanted something he considered worse: to feed on him. Slurp up the raw energy droning and pulsating inside him—the special spark that manifested as his abilities—like he was a fucking Baskin-Robbins cookies n’ cream milkshake until it got its fill. It’d only make its rounds again once he was restored to full power, and it craved another Aid-sized snack. By its too-frequent pitstops, he assumed that meant he was a tasty delicacy and one of its favorite hole-in-the-walls.

If it got its way, it would breathe him in, suck the life force out of him until his eyes rolled to the back of his skull and he lost consciousness. It would plunge him into a deep, restless sleep from which he woke with nothing short of a splitting migraine and depleted energy source lasting for days on end. It took him weeks, sometimes even months, to fully recover from a psychic attack.

With each menacing tap, his chest started to heave, each breath quicker than the last. His heart raced, the deep-rooted fear dissolving all gathered composure with each thud. If the oxy hadn’t kicked in already, he suspected he’d be zapped with the splintering pain of his cracked rib lancing into his side with each lungful.

‘Don’t look, don’t you fucking look!’ he internally screamed. ‘Why couldn’t this just be a fucking mouse?’

“No need to get all huffy, Runt, almost done,” Wyatt scorned through the tense silence. For one of the only times in his life, Wyatt’s voice brought him a strange comfort and grounded him.

‘Don’t give it attention, and it’ll go away.’ He took a deep, calming breath, thinking happy thoughts of green pastures and rainbows ending in beautiful waterfalls and—

His daydreaming was cut short by a slow, inhuman wheeze—Haaaaayyyyy

The spectral pitch of the other-worldly voice permeated every corner of his mind like a plume of dark smoke that he couldn’t shut out—it was just there, all around him, seeping into him—buzzing on his skin, ringing in his ears.

He panicked.

His steeled gaze melted faster than a cartoon character popsicle in summer. His eyes darted straight to the growing dark mass in the mirror.

His heart stopped, his breath stilled, and his body froze—petrified and goggle-eyed.

This living nightmare made those dreaded anthrophaghes look like child’s play.

A gangly arm hung over the front-facing side of the tub, exposing the thing’s equally revolting and terror-inducing body inch by inch. Its skin—painted a lifeless grey-green with blotches of gangrenous rot like a decaying corpse—was simultaneously loose and stretched too tight like half-melted, sloppily applied saran wrap pulled over a fake, anatomically incorrect skeleton with half-assed patchwork over the areas where it ripped.

At one end of its lanky arm, unfurled spider leg-like fingers with sharp, grime-crusted nails scrabbling the floor towards him. The other end led up to a too-bony shoulder, and then…he stared long and hard at the twisted, bloated face of Madame Eleanor.

His heart dropped into his stomach. His lungs refused to allow him a breath, filling him with stale air.

It couldn’t be her, not the real her. She was long dead. He knew that.

But he also knew he wasn’t the only one with a penchant for mind tricks. It must have tried to recreate Eleanor Sullivan’s likeness based on memories it poached from his mind during an encounter before—only his last memories of her were of her lying dead in an open casket.

Its face—no, Eleanor Sullivan’s poorly copied/pasted face was ghastly. Nearly unrecognizable.

In place of Madame Eleanor’s Botoxed face with bright, almond-shaped blue-green eyes, the reflection unveiled far-apart, lidless, ivory-colored eyes with no pupils locking onto him. Her button nose was gone, gnawed off, exposing the black gorge of its nasal cavity. Its mouth, a long, lip-less strip of decaying flesh, pulled out to its rawboned cheeks, revealing slivers of its pitch-black abyss-of-a-mouth. What sat on its head was nothing but a few clumps of long, feathery white strands of hair loosely tacked onto its molted skull—a far cry from his Madame’s signature dyed sandy-blonde locks. The gauzy wisps swished over its warped features as its head followed behind its arm’s descent onto the floor.

That thing began crawling out of the tub like it was Samara crawling out of a goddamn tube TV.

‘Oh hell no.’

He jerked back, face contorting with stone-cold horror, as a frightened shriek he couldn’t contain ripped free from his raw vocal cords.

“God damn it!” Wyatt bellowed, pulling away from The Aid’s face. He was too stunned to speak, too shaken up from the surge of adrenaline coursing through his body to notice the fresh slice on his chin.

“Did you see it?” He sputtered frantically, head whipping in the direction of the tub, blood streaking down his chin. “It—it—” he pointed at where the thing was supposed to be.

Nothing.

Wyatt all but shook his head, examining the empty tub. “Fuck, ya couldn’t just sit still? Now look at ya, bleedin’. Jesus Christ, ya’ve fucking lost it. Don’t tell me ya’r kook ass thought ya saw a ghost,” The man idly mocked, recalling the last time he noticed The Aid stare off into an empty corner with his eyes nearly popping out of his skull.

The Aid shook, his lip quivered as he tried to belt out, “No! Not a ghost, worse than a ghost. It—” he turned to Wyatt to see a half-fed up, half-scornful glare shooting back. He stopped, realizing just how nuts he looked and sounded. He sank into himself.

“I’m sorry, Sir. These meds…they make me feel weird,” he sighed, swapping his fervent panic with a practiced flavor of clear defeat he knew convincingly shadowed his face and wilted his voice. He did indeed feel like a kook, not because he doubted what he saw, but because he remembered just who he was talking to—King Deflection.

“Don’t think that’s gonna get ya outta taking them. Best learn how to deal 'cause ya still got a long way to go.” Wyatt grabbed the washcloth sitting on the sink, ran it under the water, and blotted the slice on The Aid’s chin.

“Hold that there,” the older man directed. The Aid obliged. Wyatt halted any further disparaging remarks and even refrained from shooting him the usual hate-crazed glower.

“Lucky it ain’t nothin’ but a little cut. I think that means we’re done here.” His Master nonchalantly wiped the last few strips of shaving cream off his face with the corners of the rag, then cleaned up the shaving supplies.

The Aid fell into a long silence. His fingers smoothed out the bunched-up ripples of terrycloth; his eyes anxiously darted back and forth between Wyatt and the tub. Tried as he might, he couldn’t calm the tornado still whirling in his gut or mollify his nerves, still heightened and simmering.

Gone. It was completely gone without a fucking trace.

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Taglist: @sacredwrath @the-name-is-reaper @little-rat-dragon @pirefyrelight @whumpyourdamnpears @3-2-whump @potterhead5ever

If ya wanna be added or removed from the tag list, just let me know! Leave a comment or message me! :)

I know what you’re wondering—yes, The Aid is haunted by a sleep paralysis demon, The Night Hag! It’s a subtle element here, not a major plot point so if you don’t like paranormal shit, don’t worry it isn’t going to overtake the story (I just wanted to give it its own intro chapter).

Which goes without saying, chapter vibes:

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priestfrommidnightmass · 7 months

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wrote 19 pages and 12666 words today of groundwork of something i can’t finish writing until i know the source material as intimately as i’d like to. am i insane

#telling myself now to not abandon this.#i usually don’t get this far tho especially not in a single day so #i have hope. i have hope!#now that i have the skeleton written all i have to do is make it beautiful. who clapped #truly one of the most self indulgent things i’ve ever written. this one is for ME!!!

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kentopedia · 7 months

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.𖥔 ݁ ˖ HOTEL ROOM — levi ackerman x f!reader x nanami kento

summary. what’s a wedding for if not to make your boyfriends a little jealous?

contents. threesome, wedding guests, best friend satoru, teensy bit of jealousy, nsfw, aot/jjk crossover universe, teasing, cunnilingus, blowjob, piv, sub reader, slight degradation, brat taming, pet names, praise, teasing, unprotected sex — 5.5k

notes. welcome to the most self indulgent and filthy thing i have ever written ! this is for me & the two men i have been in love with for two years but i guess everyone else can read it too <3

“your boyfriend looks pissed,” satoru says, peering over your shoulder. there’s a grin on his face as his bright irises flash, and he hands you a glass of champagne, bubbles rising to the surface.

you take it from him, spilling a quarter of the alcohol down your throat before craning your neck to glance at the other side of the room.

behind you, levi is talking to hange in a hushed voice, his expression, though not unchanged from his normal one, is thoroughly unamused. his face is pinched tighter than usual, a harsh set to his jaw. levi’s blue eyes, darkened with irritation, slide over to kento, who rests his hip against the counter, taking a long sip of whiskey.

though levi isn’t looking at you, kento is, and you smile at him sweetly, taunting him with a little wave.

you don’t wait to see kento’s response, and focus your attention back on satoru. “which one?” you ask, hiding your sly smile as you follow satoru out to the dance floor. a man takes your near-empty champagne glass, whisking it onto a tray with the other lipstick-stained cups.

satoru smirks, taking your hand in his own to spin you in a circle, following the steps of the other couples around you. although you and satoru have been friends—and only friends—for years, you know a part of kento can’t help but be jealous, especially since you’d once had a crush on satoru as a teenager.

even though that had long since died, kento doesn’t bother to hide his antagonism for the older man. levi, on the other hand, will never admit to his possessiveness… but he hates seeing you in the arms of anyone that isn't him.

“so,” satoru hums, shaking his head as you nearly bump into a blonde couple beside you. “i take it you’re trying to be an instigator?”

you make a face. “what do you mean? i’m just dancing with my good friend satoru.”

“right.” satoru laughs, pulling you closer to his chest. something changes in him, for a brief moment, and you can see why everyone wants him. he lays the charm on a little thicker, smiles a little wider—you’re starting to wonder if he actually wants to seduce you. “if you want to make them jealous, at least do it the right way,” he says, putting on his prettiest blue eyes, batting them softly at you.

“that’s not—” you start, but satoru offers you a knowing grin in return. you’ve been close friends for far too long, and he knows you far too well. any objections you have quickly die out on your tongue, and you sigh, leaning in closer. “fine. whatever.”

you glance over at levi, and a part of you can’t even feel guilty, not when he’s watching you with icy eyes, wondering if there’s a moment he’d be able to catch satoru off-guard.

he's a little possessive, a bit hotheaded. can you really be blamed for enjoying the irritation that rolls into kento’s normally calm eyes, the way levi’s jaw clenches tighter and tighter, until you can hear his teeth cracking together?

it’s almost amusing, really. they should know they have nothing to worry about.

“seems i’ve taught you well,” satoru begins, his cologne overwhelming your senses as he bows to your height. “i mean, you can always come back to my hotel room. this is a wedding, after all. the perfect time to spice things up.”

you roll your eyes at him, snorting. “don’t push your luck, gojo. i’m sure you’ll manage to find someone else to keep your bed warm tonight.”

satoru sighs, pressing a hand to his heart like you’d fatally wounded him. “hm. i’ll get you to fuck me one of these days.” though, for once, he sounds a little too serious, like he’s actually imaging that playing out. “if you can keep the two of them around, then you must—”

the song comes to an end, and you pull away from your old friend, stopping whatever lewd comment he was about to make. “that’s enough of that, satoru.” you say, ignoring his protests, his faux innocence when he pretends not to know what he said.

but gojo’s attention is taken up a few seconds later by shoko, and you leave them, heading towards a table with small desserts and drinks. as you pick up a plate, jean kirstein approaches, his eyebrows knit together as he fiddles with the bottom of his shirt.

you smile at him, but jean doesn’t smile back. “is… something wrong?” you ask, uncertain if he even wanted you to question him.

jean opens his mouths, shuts it, then sniffs. “do you think you could manage to stop pissing off levi?” he finally says, picking up a plate next to you, following your actions as he sifts through the desserts. “he’s going to take it all out on us at training tomorrow.”

you open your mouth to respond, but you don’t get the chance to let the words spill from your lips.

behind you, kento says your name, and you turn, facing him with the pile of small desserts still in your hand. jean freezes awkwardly next to you, glancing between the blonde man and yourself.

“everything okay, ken?”

“i’m just going back to the room,” kento says, putting his hands in his pocket, looking at you pointedly. his dark eyes shift over to jean, before fixating back on you. “just wanted to let you know.”

you smile at him sweetly, nod once. “okay,” you say, offering him a treat from the plate. “want one before you go?”

kento relaxes, but he shakes his head. “i’m fine." he shifts to his other foot. “so. you’re going to stay here?”

though kento is too polite to ask you to come with him, especially in front of jean, you can sense his underlying irritation. half of the guests had already gone home, and it was well after midnight... much later than either of you intended to stay out.

still, you smile, cheeks flushed from all of the alcohol, dancing, and the heat of your boyfriend’s gaze. “yeah, i’ll come up in a bit. i still haven’t danced with jean!”

kento raises an eyebrow, glancing over at the younger man once more, who stares back at him like a deer in headlights.

“oh, um—” jean laughs awkwardly, scratching the back of his head as you sigh, taking a bite of one of the desserts.

kento blinks, but ignores jean’s rambling, and fishes his wallet out of his pocket. “fine,” he says, pulling a white, plastic room key out of it. “let me know if you need anything, sweetheart.”

you smile widely and kiss him once on the cheek. though the irritation is still evident in his dark irises, your lips ease him a bit, and he lets a small smile lift on his face. as kento leaves, you glance at the other corner of the room, and note that levi is already gone.

your expression sours; he didn’t even bother to tell you, and there aren’t any messages from him on your phone.

“why’d you have to drag me into it?” jean mumbles, drawing you out of your thoughts.

a heavy exhale leaves you—you might as well enjoy the rest of the night, even if you’re not sure how angry levi is going to be when you get back.

“well, you just seem pretty miserable,” you admit to jean, clearing all thoughts of kento and levi from your mind. that's a problem for the future you to endure. “thought i could at least keep you some company.”

he smiles, but its half-hearted.

truly, you’re not sure how jean can stand to see the woman he loves get married to another.

you’re sweaty by the time you retreat to your room, skin hot from the dancing, and feet sore from the heels you’d worn for the entirety of the day.

not many people were left in the ballroom when you’d left. there were just a few close friends of eren and mikasa’s, and you’d stayed as well, flitting in between each of the couples to chat, feeling more lively with the buzz of alcohol in your veins.

the hotel hallway is quiet when you approach, and you press the key into the door, waiting for the light to turn green. it lets you into the room, and quietly, you shut it behind you, not wanting to wake levi and kento if they're already asleep.

though, when the door clicks, you notice that the room isn’t completely dark; there are still lamps on throughout the suite, and you can hear the soft patter of shower water running. the bathroom light is on, and there’s shuffling on the other side of the door.

you slip your heels off and walk towards the bedroom, ignoring the pain that lingers in the balls of your feet. “levi?” you say, in nothing above a whisper, announcing your presence before opening the door.

the bedroom is darker, but on the other side of the threshold, you can still make out the shape of the dark-haired man. levi has his back turned, the pale expanse of his skin exposed to you as he slips off his shirt.

though you know he’s annoyed at you, you can’t stop yourself from staring at the muscles that flex and recoil as levi folds his shirt up.

he looks over his shoulder, blue eyes flashing as he places his t-shirt shirt back with his other clothes. “so you finally decided to come back,” levi quips, his voice hard and low as he turns, facing you from just a few feet away. “are you done playing your silly little game now?”

he says it calmly, but you can heart the danger that lies beneath it as his eyes trace over your body, lingering on the swell of your breasts under your form-fitting dress.

levi’s severe gaze leaves you swallowing nervously, something twisting in your stomach as you watch the harsh set of his jaw. you’re not afraid to push levi’s button’s, but you’ve never gotten used to the passion and adoration that pierces his normally serious irises.

still, you can tell he’s irritated now, and though he’s usually more serious than even kento, he’s not as good at hiding his anger.

“what game?” you ask innocently as levi backs you into a corner, his scowl deepening. he smells nice, freshly showered, and his hair is soft as it falls across his forehead. levi’s strong hand comes against the wall beside your head, palm spread next to your ear. “i just wanted to have fun with my friends.”

levi lets out a laugh, but it’s low, sarcastic, without any sense of real humor. “and you can’t even spare a dance for me?” he says, pinning you with his gaze. your back hits the wall, and you stare at him, lips parting as a small breath leaves you. although you are trying hard not to let your eyes drift down to his chest, you are distracted, heart fluttering in your ribcage.

“you hate dancing, levi,” you say, a breath of air.

levi glares, tracing his fingers softly across your jaw. “not with you.”

though you were trying to taunt him for a moment longer, the admission has you softening, and you lean forward, your lips parting to kiss him. but you don’t get far; levi steps away, leaving you in the corner, desperate for his mouth on your own as he stalks towards the other side of the bed.

“levi,” you whine, following after him with a deep frown. your hands instinctively reach out for him as he makes his way across the room, shoulders tense when you sensuously run your fingers over his bare spine. “i want—”

the rest of your sentence is lost to air as levi turns, his eyes narrowed harshly before yanking you forward.

you stumble over your feet, closer to him, and he pushes you onto the bed, his movements much faster and smoother than anticipated. a gasp leaves you as you fall onto the mattress, your back sinking into it with a thump.

“you spend all evening on the arm of other men, and now you’re trying to tell me what you want,” levi says, pinning your wrists to the bed as he climbs over your. his dark hair falls, nearly into your face as you blink up at him, arousal spiking deep in your stomach.

levi isn’t as tall as kento, but he’s just as strong, manhandling you easily onto your back so he can tower over you. your face grows warm, and you watch him with wide eyes, shy under the weight of his heavy gaze.

“levi—” you say again, his name leaving your lips with a small whisper.

“what’s the matter?” he slowly drags his lips across your chest as you squirm. “earlier, you couldn’t keep your mouth shut. flirting with every man at eren’s fucking wedding. and now—”

levi drags his hands down to your hips slowly, pressing you into the bed as his fingers curl into the bone. your eyes flutter shut, the feeling of his graceful fingers on your stomach close to tantalizing, so slender, but so rough.

“they’re my friends,” you breathe, licking your lips. “i wasn’t flirting, i was just talking.”

really, that tiny detail doesn’t matter anymore. you just want levi’s mouth on your own.

“didn’t look like it to me,” he says pointedly, unamused. “you were practically begging everyone in that room to fuck you.” levi’s hand tightens around your hips, not allowing you any space to move. “a pathetic attempt at trying to make us jealous.”

you stare up at him from under your lashes, a lazy smile pulling onto your lips. “from where i’m standing, i’d say it worked pretty well.”

levi’s jaw clenches tighter, but he doesn’t get the opportunity to respond. the door opens once more, and kento comes in, wearing nothing but a towel, his hair still damp, falling onto his head in loose strands.

you take one look at him, the drops of water that run over the planes of his chest, and salivate. his skin is still tan from your vacation, blond hair light from the sun. he’s beautiful, so beautiful—but a frown pollutes his face as he enters the room.

he takes a look between you, eyes narrowing at levi. “i said to wait until i got out of the shower.”

“i’m impatient,” levi retorts in a gruff voice, sitting up slightly, even as he keeps you pinned on the bed with his thighs.

“that’s obvious.” kento snorts, sliding his gaze over to you. “already starting without me.” he’s upon you quickly, two slow strides to the bed as he carefully observes the atmosphere. a sigh leaves him, and he brushes a heavy hand over your forehead, soothingly. “what are we going to do with you, sweetheart?”

you swallow, eyes wide as you stare back at him.

kento drops the towel from his waist, exposing his thick, muscular thighs and his cock, resting limply between them. with levi’s hands all over your body, you’re already getting wet.

“i didn’t do anything—” you begin, but as you try to squeeze your legs together, levi stops you, knowing exactly the kind of relief you are searching for.

“nope,” he snaps, prying your thighs back apart, his eyes narrowing. “if you’re going to act like a fucking brat, then we’ll just have to treat you like one, hmm?” levi tugs you forward harshly, bringing your knees around his waist. “don’t try to act coy.”

his fingertips dig into your thighs, and you sit up on your forearms, glancing back at kento, trying your best to bat your pretty eyes in the way you know he likes. “but i didn’t mean, it, ken,” you say as levi hikes your dress up, revealing the smooth skin of your thighs. “i’m sorry—”

kento shakes his head, and slips behind you, climbing onto the bed, forcing you sit up completely. “a little too late for that,” he says, resting your back against his chest. he kisses your shoulder softly, much more gentle than the way that levi is grabbing at your skin. kento’s large palms rest on your stomach, and you reach for them, squeeze at his hands as he smiles against your neck. “you’re supposed to be a good girl for us, aren’t you?”

his voice is husky, tired, and you nod, seeking a kiss from the blonde man that you love so dearly. but even kento, who is always so much sweeter with you than levi, refuses that.

“clearly, she needs to be taught a lesson,” levi snorts, dragging a finger up your panties, humming when finds your arousal already gathered there. “can’t have you forgetting who you belong too, can we?” he asks, blue eyes sharp as he pushes your panties to the side.

you squirm when his finger parts your folds, grazing your clit as he gathers the slick around it. a spark ignites in your chest, and then, levi slips a finger into you, slowly, tauntingly. you lean back into kento, who holds you still, interlocking one of your hands with his own.

“can’t be happy with just the two of us, can you?” kento asks, kissing the underside of you jaw. your head tips back, eyes fluttering shut as levi adds a second finger, your walls stretched as he draws in and out of you. “would you rather have satoru? maybe you’d trade both of us for just one of him—”

“n-no,” you say, reveling in the feeling of kento’s lips on your neck, levi’s delicate fingers deep inside you. “i promise, i don’t want him—”

you squelch around levi, the sounds of your cunt growing louder in the dim room, and he tugs at your knees, spreading your legs wider. your pussy is on full display to him, lacy black panties doing little to hide the fact that you're dripping.

“didn’t seem that way to us." levi's voice is deep and rough as he glares at you. “seemed like you wanted everyone to think we can’t take of our girl.”

sinful noises leave you as his hand moves faster, drags against your soaked walls, clit untouched and desperate for attention.

“levi,” you gasp, swallowing down your pride. “please—”

“not letting you off the hook that easily, sweetheart,” kento says, pushing the loose straps of your wine colored dress down, letting it fall. it slips easily off your breasts, revealing the lacy, black strapless bra that matches your panties.

though, that doesn’t remain for much longer; kento groans deeply in your ear, your breasts bouncing softly as he tugs the undergarment off.

“such pretty tits,” kento says, a large, warm palm coming to cup one of them. his finger grazes across your nipple, squeezing once, and you throw your head back against his shoulder, whimpering as levi forces his another finger down to the knuckle. “fuck, the sounds you make—”

“you’re too fucking nice to her, kento.” levi is on the verge of rolling his eyes as he lowers his head to your thighs. for a moment, you think he might kiss your leg, reveal the love that he is hiding from you—but he thinks better of it and forces your legs further apart. his tongue drags against your pussy, gathering your slick before he sucks at your clit.

you moan, grabbing at kento’s thighs that are woven around your hips, digging your nails into his flexed muscles. tiny crescent marks are left there, but kento barely notices, too busy biting a bruise into your neck as he plays with your tits.

“i don’t have to be an ass like you to teach her a lesson,” kento breathes against your neck, and you shudder, eyes fluttering closed, unable to do anything but writhe under their strong holds. “besides, she’s so perfect—”

you can’t focus on the rest of kento’s words, not when levi’s tongue is flicking in and out of you, lapping up the juices that are spilling out of your cunt. your stomach vibrates with need, and you can feel yourself close to release, exhales leaving your chest as you attempt to shift yourself forward.

“don’t even try it,” levi glares at you, his gaze even more menacing under the mound of dark hair, lips glistening from your cunt.

“wanna cum levi,” you cry out, not sure how much longer you’ll last with kento pinching at you, squeezing your tits with his warm palms. “please, i’m so close—”

“who said you were going to cum, brat?” levi snaps, stilling his movements for a moment as you whine, missing the feeling of his fingers deep inside you, his lips sucking at your clit. you clench around nothing, throbbing as he stares down at you empty pussy. “don’t think you deserve that.”

“just let her cum so i can fuck her, levi,” kento says, a shiver radiating through your entire body as he traces his hands down your stomach, rubbing at your clit. his fingers are thicker than levi’s, his hands bigger, and you know it won't be long before you reach your orgasm.

“kento.” you whine, turning your cheek to face him, reveling in the small little smile that rests on his lips. “so close—”

though, your moment of relief is taken from you as levi swats kento’s hand away, going down on you again, twice as fast. “hey,” levi grabs your attention once more, slipping his fingers back inside your cunt. “eyes on me. i’m the one with my fingers in your pussy.”

you gasp, writhing as kento kisses you, runs his hands all over your skin. “feels s’ good, levi." though you are vibrating between them, you obey, keeping your eyes focused on levi’s, too intimidated by the heat of his gaze.

“promise to behave now, angel?” kento says, humming into your neck, a hand caressing your stomach lovingly. “you’re our sweet girl, right?”

your mind short circuits as levi puts his mouth on you once more, and you cum, your body shaking from your orgasm, clenching tight around levi’s fingers. “levi, levi.” his name leaves your lips over and over, mumbled bliss as he works you through it, your sensitive cunt aching.

you feel mushy, shaky as kento shifts behind you, places his hand on your hips. there is no time for you to recover, to indulge in the blissfulness that comes with release. kento pushes your hips forward, encouraging you to move.

“get on all fours for me,” he says, and though his voice is soft, sweet, there is still a sense of a command there.

you comply, but your mind is hazy from your orgasm, still focused on the feeling of kento behind you, levi in front of you. they both eye you with a culmination of lust and love, and you feel sick with it, shifting for kento so that your dripping cunt is on perfect display for him.

kento hums, sitting up along with you, so that his cock is positioned near your entrance. without warning, he dips a finger into your walls, smiling when you softly whine, sensitive already. kento gathers up your slick, rubbing you only for a moment before retreating, withdrawing his soaked fingers. “you get so wet for us, sweetheart. such a needy little thing, aren’t you?” kento teases, running his tongue over his fingers as you watch over your shoulder.

you wonder if maybe you could cum again, on the spot, just from that; the sight of kento licking your arousal from his hands as you clench around nothing. “kento, need your cock,” you blabber, barely holding yourself upright—you feel weak, arms and legs like jelly.

kento lets out a laugh, his tip teasing your entrance. without thinking, you sink your hips back, try to push him inside of you, but he stops you, stilling your movements. “thought you said you’d be good now?” he asks, kissing your spine gently.

“i promise, kento, please, please,” you say, desperate for him to touch you. but kento doesn’t move, waits until levi has slipped his sweatpants off, thrown them over the edge of the bed.

“sound so pretty when you beg.” kento’s voice is soft, loving, gentle as he kneads the skin of you ass.

levi, though, doesn’t let the attention stay on the other man for much longer. he strokes his cock, but he is already painfully hard, leaking at the tip as he glowers over you. “she sounds impatient,” he counters, his voice deep, rough, and authoritative. you meet his eyes from under thick lashes, mouth watering at the sight of his pretty cock just inches from your face. “maybe she’ll stop running her mouth with my dick in it.” levi runs his finger over your lips, parting them with his thumb. as if on instinct, you let your jaw fall open, your cunt aching and soaked, too desperate for release to care about how debauched you look.

“wanna taste you, levi,” you say, whimpering as kento edges his tip into your dripping hole. your hands shake on the bed, and you blink rapidly as your sensitive pussy throbs and aches, pulsing around your blonde lover.

“tch, ‘course you do. you’re so fucking hungry for my cock.” levi seems annoyed, but he still runs a delicate hand through your hair before he pushes against your lips.

at the same time, kento sinks into you, a deep groan leaving him. “fuck, sweetheart, just slipped right into you. pretty pussy was made for my cock, wasn’t it?”

you moan as you taste the saltiness of the precum leaking from levi, taking as much of him as you can into your mouth. he’s not as thick as kento, but he’s just as long, pretty and veiny as you run your tongue along the length of him.

kento leans over your back, his strong hands curling around your sides as he drags himself in and out of you, fingers digging into your hips. your eyes flutter shut from the stretch, and you moan around levi’s mouth, distracted by his hands, rough in your hair.

for a moment, you pause, breathing as you clench around kento, but levi doesn’t give you enough time to think; he drags your mouth back down his cock, his pretty fingers tight against your scalp. “levi—” you start, but his names falls on a loose breath as you gasp, your cheeks hot when you smoothly catch the dark look in his irises.

“don’t cum until we tell you to, brat,” levi says, scowling, though there is a breathlessness starting in his words, a hint of affection as you bob your head up and down his length. as mean as levi tries to be sometimes, he can't seem to get rid of the love that seeps into his voice when he’s inside you.

you nod an affirmation as best you can before sinking back down on him, breathing heavier through your nose.

kento pushes into your fluttering walls deeper, faster, his cock stretching you more than levi’s fingers had before. “look so pretty like this, angel. always take us both so well,” kento says, squeezing the soft skin of your sides gently as he forces himself further, until he’s inside of you completely, the burn deliciously painful.

you try to whimper, feeling your own juices trickle, smear between the inside of your thighs, but your mouth is too full of levi for any sounds to come out.

“focus on what you’re doing." levi's attempt at snapping fizzles out. his tone has lost its bite. his eyes are getting hazier, eyelids fluttering with each drag of your tongue, your mouth so much smaller around his cock. “not letting you cum until i do.”

you balance on one hand, the other reaching up to fondle levi’s balls as you drag your tongue slowly along the vein on the underside of his cock. levi inhales deeply, digging his fingers into your hair, his nails scratching against your scalp. his cheeks, the bridge of his nose are dusted pink, eyes a deep navy.

you bat your dazed eyes at him. levi is so beautiful, and you’re so deeply in love with him, desperate to see the flush of his face, the way his lips part in ecstasy when he finally reaches his orgasm.

a hand drifts across your stomach as kento hum, his chest vibrating. “being such a good girl for us,” he whispers, and though you can’t see him, you know he is smiling, his eyes always so gentle, even when you spent the entire night trying to rile him up.

you can feel yourself getting closer, kento hitting the spot deep within you, levi’s taste so intoxicating that you’re blind to your surroundings.

“just like that, my love." drunk on the feeling of your mouth, levi's dark eyes finally soften as you run your tongue along his tip. “aren’t you pretty?” his thumb traces your cheek softly, and the normal affection is back on his face. it fuels you to drag your mouth up his length faster.

levi's praise is much more fleeting then kento’s, but it’s genuine, always coming when he’s desperately close to finishing. a moan, deep and muffled, reverberates in his chest as he thrusts his hips forward, fucking your face.

“she’s close,” kento groans, reaching around your stomach to dip his finger between your thighs. “i can feel it. she's squeezing me so fucking tight.”

“mouth feels so good," levi rasps, his breathing uneven, chest rising erratically. “fuck, fuck, you’re gonna make me cum” he lets a string of curses leave him, his lips parting beautifully, flushed and red. “better swallow every last fucking drop."

“don’t think that’ll be an issue,” kento hums, and his fingertips graze your clit, causing you to gush around him. “she always wants our cum so bad.” teasingly, he leans down to whisper, more to you than levi. “i don’t think i even have to ask if she wants me to cum inside.”

“shit,” levi breaths, sputters, and then he spills into your mouth, warm ropes of cum shooting into your throat.

you swallow as much as you can, trying not to gag as it dribbles out of the corner of your mouth, milking levi through his orgasm. but you’re too focused on the feeling of kento, and your eyes flutter shut as you force your hips back, your brain glossed over, nothing but need there.

that moment is short-lived.

levi pinches your cheeks, forces you to open your eyes and look at him. though his fingers dig into your skin, right below the bone, his eyes are soft as he leans down.

“cum." the word is whispered against your mouth, the sharp tone he uses as a captain. then, levi kisses you, licks across your lips to taste himself there.

you whimper into his mouth, falling forward into him as you clench hard around kento, the knot inside of you releasing. your orgasm hits you hard, blurs the room around you, narrowed down to nothing but the man in front of you and the one behind.

“mm,” kento hums, but his voice is low, raspy. “god, made such a mess all over me, fuck, love you so much, sweetheart—”

kento lasts only a few moments more, spilling into your cunt, his cum filling you up, coating your walls white.

you breathe heavily, whining into levi's neck as he holds you, lets kento pump the last bit of cum from his cock, heavy pants escaping his chest.

“look at you,” levi says, tracing his fingers over your face, smoothing the hair away from your sweaty forehead. "so fucking pretty all filled up with our cum."

kento, slowly, drags himself out of you, makes another sound, already missing the feeling of your pussy clenching around him. you feel empty, blinking as levi gathers your up in his arms, kisses your forehead.

"mmm." levi hums, because, really, he can't help the fact that you soften him up, make him a little bit sick with affection. "i love you."

you smile. "love you both," you say, closing your eyes as kento smatters kisses across your back, levi's touch gentle as he caresses your sides. "'m sorry."

kento laughs, brushing your hair off to one shoulder, kissing between your shoulder blades. "no you're not." he nuzzles your back, resting his cheek against your spine. two strong arms wrap around your waist.

"we're not idiots," levi continues, a snort leaving him. "i'm sure you spent the whole evening plotting with satoru. nice try though."

you smile, dopey and blissful. "well, it worked, didn't it? i did make you jealous."

neither of them respond.

anyway.

tehehe thank you for reading !! reblogs appreciated !

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sleepingdeath-light · 4 months

Text

relationship hcs ; lucifer morningstar

requested by ; mod / self indulgent

fandom(s) ; hazbin hotel

fandom masterlist(s) ; here

character(s) ; lucifer morningstar

outline ; “dating headcanons for lucifer”

note ; this may be a touch out of character as i’ve never written for him before, but hopefully you’re all able to enjoy this piece either way ^^

warning(s) ; brief mentions to canon angst and one mildly suggestive bit, but mostly fluff!

after having a several thousand year long marriage fall apart on him and experiencing a strained relationship with his only child for a good number of years after that, it’s only natural that lucifer would struggle with letting himself fall in love and move on — both because he doesn’t want to risk pushing charlie away and because, well, despite being the prince of pride he has a lot of issues relating to his past and he’s worried about messing things up and losing someone else he loves

that’s not to say that courting the king of hell is impossible, far from it in fact, but that you just need to be patient with him — let him move at his own pace, he’s been out of the dating game for a while after all (if you could ever even consider him as being ‘in it’ at all given the unique circumstances under which he met his first wife)

despite being the embodiment of ‘pride’, he does deal with a great deal of insecurity and anxiety — about everything from his parenting to his creations to his relationship with you and even far beyond that — so any kind of verbal reassurance or praise will go a long way with him and will always be received with a great deal of warmth and gratitude

whisper about how much you love him as you hold him in your arms late in the evenings or early in the mornings, when you’re laying in bed and half asleep — making sure that you’re starting and ending each day on a positive, private, warm note no matter what happens between the ‘now’ and ‘then’

gush about his latest invention as you visit him in his workshop, commenting excitedly at each new feature and animatedly gesturing towards his whole collection of creations with nothing but genuine enthusiasm and awe written across your features — make sure he knows that his craftsmanship and efforts will never go unnoticed or unappreciated by you so long as he wants you by his side

encourage him to take those leaps of faith that he’d otherwise be too jaded or anxious to take on his own: hold his hand and help him find the strength to call up his daughter just to chat and give them their privacy once he’s back in his element and fully engaged with the conversation, give him a pep-talk before his latest meeting with heaven and their new emissary and promise that you’re only a text or call away if it gets too much for him (he’s never taken up your offer, but the promise always helps to calm his nerves), and just be there to push him forwards as his partner and be there to catch him if things don’t go his way

praise him for all of the features you love until his face is tinged a beautiful shade of red, his wings are all fluffed up, and he’s too flustered to even look you in the eye — compliment the angelic and the demonic, the human and inhuman, make sure there’s no doubt left in his mind that you’re completely and utterly infatuated with him in body, mind, and soul

oh and make no mistake this gentleman gives as good as he gets and he could easily spend days at a time talking about every little thing about you that he adores, every minor habit or quirk that most people wouldn’t even notice that makes his whole day that much brighter — there’s no room for any self doubt or self hatred when you’re in a relationship with this fallen angel because he loves you so deeply, so wholly, that you’ll inevitably start to love yourself that bit more through him

it’s extremely important to him that you get to know charlie and that she approves of your relationship — his daughter is his world, his everything, and as much as he adores you, he will not risk pushing her away again for any reason (as much as it would kill him inside to have to walk away from you)

that being said, charlie will inevitably end up really liking you and making an effort to get to know this person who her dad talks about all the time, making it abundantly clear that she approves of you and would be happy to have you in her life as her dad’s partner — and maybe another parental figure in her life depending on how things go, how your relationship with her evolves, and whether you prefer to be her ‘step parent’ or just her friend who happens to be dating her dad (she doesn’t mind either way, she just wants him to be happy)

between his angelic powers, extreme wealth, and prominent status in hell, lucifer is more than capable of spoiling you completely rotten — like as long as you’re with him, you’ll never want or need for anything as long as it’s within his abilities to get for you (whether that’s something more traditional like jewellery, clothes, books, or food, or something more niche and related to something you’re interested in, like a tool to help you engage in a hobby or a specific item you’ve been looking for to add to your collection)

he’s also not above just outright making you things as gifts — of course there are his ducks which he’s more than happy to share with you, but he’s also a pretty good cook and will make you breakfast in bed as a treat or as a way to cheer you up if you’ve been having a rough time

on a related note, this man goes all out for your anniversaries and on your birthday — he just… really loves being able to take care of you, that’s all

and despite all of that he still keeps each and every gift and card you give him — has a whole drawer dedicated to your letters and your gifts are scattered around the palace, with particularly sentimental items being kept in his bedroom and workshop

there are two pictures that he keeps on him at all times: one of him and charlie taken shortly after he helped rebuild the hotel and settled into his personal room there, and another of the two of you taken on your first anniversary of a couple — he regularly takes them out to help keep him motivated throughout the day, especially if his day has been rather draining for one reason or another

he’s extremely physically affectionate and gives the most amazing hugs — he uses his arms and his wings to hold you close and keep you warm and when you’re laying down it’s extremely easy for you to just fall asleep in his arms if you don’t make a conscious effort to stay awake and in the moment with him

his kisses can go a couple of different ways depending on his mood and the setting you’re in:

he can be gentlemanly and chaste if you’re in a formal setting or otherwise somewhere that requires him to uphold a certain image — limiting himself to brief pecks on the back of your hand, your cheeks, or your knuckles if he’s feeling especially bold (doing enough to show that you’re his partner but not enough that his ‘kingly’ persona is threatened)

he can also be very sweet and playful if you’re at home or around close friends and family — peppering kisses along your neck and jawline, kissing your lips and cheeks whilst brushing his fingers along your ticklish spots, nuzzling his ‘nose’ against yours before kissing you, etc. (showing affection in ways that are enough to make you laugh and lean into him, but not enough that he’d be making your loved ones uncomfortable by being a bit too intimate)

last but not least, he can also be passionate and intense when the two of you are alone and he’s practically aching to feel your lips on his — wet, open mouthed kisses against your lips, trailing slow kisses from the inside of your wrists up your arm whilst looking you in the eye, trailing his lips down your throat and alternating between kissing and playfully biting at your skin (nipping and marking at your pulse point every time without fail), trailing his mouth lower and lower until you’re so frustrated all you can do is pull him up by his collar and crash your lips against his own (making sure that you know that you’re desired as well as loved whilst also being a bit playful about getting what he wants from you)

he always makes sure that he’s able to spend some quality time with you each day beyond just your sleeping hours — whether that means planning a proper date, meeting up for lunch between meetings, or stopping by wherever you are at the time via teleportation just to check in and make sure everything’s okay

lucifer has a wide variety of pet names that he uses with you — this includes the classics like ‘sweetheart’, ‘angel’, and ‘love’, as well as some more personalised ones like ‘duckie’, and more humorous ones that he comes up with on the spot to make you laugh and smile — and he loves any nickname that you ascribe to him no matter how ridiculous other people may find them

more than happy to show you off to all of hell as his beloved partner and their future monarch that will be reigning by his side one day — he’s more than capable of defending you from any threats himself and the palace is well protected so he has absolutely no reservations about making it known to every demon and sinner that you belong to him, and that he belongs to you

#sleepingdeath #gender neutral reader #fluff #fluff hcs #hazbin hotel fluff #hazbin hotel lucifer fluff #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel lucifer x reader

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shemaycry · 5 months

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❛ 'Cause you're really my dearest friend.❜ ⸺ YUKI TSUKUMO.

【⠀♱⠀】 SYNOPSIS. yuki is conflicted. you’re her best friend, nothing more. and yet, all she can think about is ruining such a connection for something more.

【⠀♱⠀】 AUTHOR’S NOTE. originally i was gonna add smut into this. mostly because i know fluff isn’t given as much attention & because i’ve been wanting to write smut for yuki. however, while writing, i noticed it would have not fit here. like at all. of course i still could have tried but it would have felt forced. anywho! this is a fic for the girls that fall for their best friends, hope you recover cause i sure haven’t <\3! as always please excuse grammatical mistakes & errors.

Intimacy was funny when it came to women. A girl could kiss her friend on the cheek, cuddle with her, and maybe even see her naked; but never feel a thing. Some women, were able to hold such a connection without lust or romantic love tainting it.

But, this wasn’t always the case. Some had the misfortune of allowing that model connection to falter. The touches didn’t always seem as innocent, the comfortable atmosphere left whenever one withdrew their clothes, and the gazes no longer held that friendly warmth, but instead.. longing.

Yuki Tsukumo had believed she was immune to it all. That she, would never, fall for her best friend. That her love would never reach a romantic level.

She thought she was immune. Really, she did.

But as time passed, the woman began to see the signs she’s displayed to lovers in the past. The way you would breach her thoughts every single day, how your smiles would melt any sadness out of her body, or even how she would grow hot from even the most lightest touch on her skin.

Yuki Tsukumo had fallen for her best friend, you— and she didn’t have a clue on what to do about it.

Days were blurring together, passing far too quickly without an answer entering her mind. She was going mad, stressed that you would somehow find out about her sin. What would you do then? Would you hate her? Would the friendship the two of you formed go down the drain in an instant?

“I say, ruin it.” Gojo Satoru’s words were blunt, overshadowing the reasonable advice Geto was previously spewing. His dimples were deep, blue eyes gleaming with mischief as he stared at the blonde-haired woman who could only stare back. “You only have one shot Yuki and it’s gonna blow up either way,” He hummed, shrugging as if the answer that she had been searching for was obvious.

“So I say, screw it. Ruin your friendship.”

Those words stuck with her since that day. Was Yuki fully prepared to do such a thing? Once she did, there was no going back. Nothing could change the fact you would know the love she held for you was not like the one she held for Gojo and the others.

That the love she held for you, was far from innocent.

“Okay, you have to really listen to these lyrics for the next one,” Your words cut through her current train of thought, her chocolate gaze flowing from the ceiling and over to you. Air was fleeting each time Yuki looked at you, it was embarrassing really. You didn’t have to do a thing and she was starstruck, unable to think or breath. So while your lips moved, she didn’t hear a thing you were saying.

You blinked slowly, noticing the spaced out look in her eyes. “Yuki? Are you listening?” The smile you held was gentle, placing the device in your hand on the pillow beside you. You then reached over, hand finding her shoulder to gently shake.

That was enough to steal her away from her thoughts again, eyes focusing onto yours fully. Her hand rose, tapping against your wrist. “You uh.. said something about me paying attention to the lyrics?” Yuki forced a smile, cheeks tinted a soft pink as she watched your lips screw in playful annoyance. Oh, how she loved when you did that. All that movement caused her eyes to focus right on your mouth— the softness, how a hint of gloss was almost always staining them.

Yuki couldn’t help wondering how they would feel on her own. Would the gloss melt between the friction of the kiss? Would stickiness taint her chin? A soft breath escaped her, forcing her mind to shut off such thoughts.

And yet you were oblivious as always; hand lifting away from her and back to your phone. “Yes! You have to focus when it comes to Mitski songs. She’s, a lyrical genius.” You smiled, babbling about an artist you’ve loved for quite some time. It was entertaining watching you in such a state, and even more so when you would force Yuki to listen to songs or albums— only to talk about the meanings behind them afterwards.

Yuki chuckled softly, turning to lay on her side upon your bed. “I’ll pay attention.” She soothed, watching you come to lay down— facing her. The promise she had made just a second ago seemed to leave the moment her eyes rested upon your face, however.

You were completely relaxed; eyes closed and softly humming to the music that escaped your speaker just a feet away. What was the song’s name again? Yuki couldn’t remember, not with the dilemma running through her head.

In times like this, Yuki felt it all began to bubble; her feelings, her thoughts about you, and much more— all ready to overfill and spill right before you. Restraint was withering with each pass of her eyes over your form, and oh— a tight breath escaped the moment she heard you softly sing along to the song.

Maybe Gojo was right, maybe she should ruin it all.

“[Name]..” The words were sudden, a soft tone hugging them; a contrast to how the woman usually spoke. Your eyes fluttered open the moment your name was spoken into the peaceful atmosphere. They widened, however, as you recognized a serious glint in her gaze.

You slowly sat up, hand pressing against the bed to steady yourself. “Is something wrong?” You asked sweetly, watching as she rose from her previous position as well. “Do you not like the song?” You urged again, fearful you had upset your best friend in some way or another.

Despite your inquiries, Yuki was silent. Completely. Another trait that you believed she wasn’t capable of. Instead she moved suddenly; hand rising and ghosting over your form before finally settling onto your cheek. You weren’t given a moment to breathe, to react, before she moved again— eliminating the distance between you in a single moment.

Your eyes widened, body stilling as the unfamiliar feeling of her lips covering your own warped your being. They were soft, yet unsteady; fear clearly treading within the blonde-haired woman before you. Her hand was clammy too, yet firm against your chubby sun-kissed cheek.

Silence passed through the room for what seemed like forever before Yuki moved away, feeling her heart fall to the pit of her stomach. She’s ruined it, finally— she has. But the rush of fear wasn’t faltering anytime soon. On the contrary it increased the moment Yuki looked at you.

Your expression was unreadable, lips agape and gaze lost completely. You continued to sit as still as a statue, clearly still surprised.

The false sense of courage was escaping her body slowly now, hand rising from your cheek carefully. But to her own surprise and happiness; you quickly took her wrist to halt her movements. Once you achieved that, your hand rose to cup the back of her own, putting it right back on its previous spot.

You moved closer, light finally shining back into your eyes as you stared at her. “Kiss me again.” You spoke on hushed breath, eyelids already lowering before she could move.

Fortunately, Yuki didn’t need to be told twice; closing the distance with more enthusiasm then before. Her lips no longer moved against yours in hesitation or uncertainty— because the answer was clear now.

You loved her, just as much as she did you. And ruining the friendship, was definitely the right thing to do.

Yuki would have to thank Gojo later.

COMMENTS & REBLOGS ARE APPRECIATED <3

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its-time-to-write · 3 months

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please don’t be - ch. 1

for context! this takes place after season 3, and in my head Jamie plays one season with Richmond under Roy, then goes back to City to play for Pep bc let’s be real, he’s a Manchester boy at heart. so that’s what’s happening, that’s the timeline, this is def the most non-canonical thing I’ve written. it might be out of character. it might be self-indulgent. I don’t know, I would say I don’t care, except I do. enjoy.

table of contents be good to me

It’s Julia who reminds you, he’s the one who asked for your number. Because she has to remind you. Otherwise you’ll tear yourself to pieces thinking about how it’s all your fault.

Oh, it was easy in the beginning. You meet Jamie Tartt of all people in a chicken shop of all places. Things like that don’t just happen. Except it did, and he smiled at you first, and you had a stupid, stupid thought that became a stupid, stupid reality.

And Julia was there from the beginning, what with her raised eyebrows and frosty opinions.

“Be so careful,” she warns. “He doesn’t understand that he doesn’t deserve you.”

You laugh and squeeze her arm as you slip out the door and into Jamie’s car.

Because it’s fun and silly and he has exactly the right words all the time. Words about your eyes, your voice, your humor; words you know not to take seriously, but he says them with such sincerity that you allow yourself to believe them for a second.

He says strange things too, things about meeting his mum and holidays in the far future where you’re on a beach with him or maybe in the stands or in a room that costs more than you make in a month.

He says the word marriage on the third date and it’s not even in reference to the both of you, just to him. He wants it, someday, sooner than people think. You study the wall behind him and sip your water. It’s ice-cold, with just the right amount of lemon. You keep your thoughts on the matter to yourself. No sense in filling the air with meaningless words. Marriage is a conversation for another girl. Not you.

No, you do your best to take it for what it is, although you’re slipping.

It’s a fling, albeit long-term. You have incompatible schedules, never mind the way you bend your time to the breaking point just to see him for ten minutes. You have a career, bills to pay, people to fix; he has football, a team, and history to make.

It’s a whirlwind of parties, matches, flights to Dubai, photographers, dresses, jewels. You know it’s a dream. You do.

Still, it’s hard to think of it as such when he tucks a strand of hair behind your ear and tells you, “My mum really liked meeting you the other day.”

It doesn’t matter how many times he tells you you’re just going out, he’s not your boyfriend (as if you aren’t painfully aware). He’s acting as if it’s more.

“It doesn’t mean anything,” Julia says when you come home, confused and conflicted. “I don’t fault you for staying, but don’t forget you can leave whenever you’re ready.”

But you’re not ready.

You’ll bend over backwards, put everything on the shelf if it means loving Jamie for half a minute. He’d never ask, no one ever does, because they always assume they know how you’ll respond.

But they don’t.

There’s a horrifying moment when you’re at some posh coffee shop, and you’re standing up to grab extra sweetener from the counter. Jamie grabs your wrist so gently to ask for a cup of water, but all you can see is the sweet expression on his face and an eyelash resting on his cheek. He’s smiling up at you and you brush away the eyelash with your free thumb, palm cupping his face. The air changes for a split second and you know.

You’re not making it out of this unscathed.

One of you will leave. It’s inevitable. It will not be you.

It’s inevitable.

So you hold his face for a beat too long before heading inside to compose yourself. You pretend not to notice the family with their cameras out. It’s a common occurrence, as common as footballers being seen with a girl who comes from another life and means nothing in the grand scheme of the Premier League.

There are so many times you want to scream that there are bigger things than the Premier League.

“I can fix him,” you tell Julia. “I get it. I understand his whole brain, how it works, what he thinks. I understand all of it. I can fix it.”

Julia sighs. “You’re not his therapist. It’s not your job, love.”

Still.

You do what you do best: love.

It shows itself in the way you smooth out the knots in his forehead, his chest, his back. The way you smile that special, soft, just-for-Jamie smile. The way you listen extra carefully and joke and laugh when things are especially difficult.

“I won’t change for you,” he says one day, early on, when you explain the panic you feel when he doesn’t speak to you for a week.

“I’m not asking you to,” you say, voice steady despite the fact that your hands shake so hard you almost drop your tea. “I’m just explaining to you why I’m a bit strange today.”

Except he does change. His words- they don’t match his actions.

I won’t change for you.

Except you hear from him every day.

I won’t change for you.

Except he makes time to see you.

I won’t change for you.

Except he’s inviting himself for tea with your family.

I won’t change for you.

You never asked him to.

So why is it your fault?

“You knew I was moving back to Manchester at the end of the season,” he says accusingly, because you did know. You’re not asking him to stay, even now.

You nod silently, letting as few tears streak down your face as possible.

“What did you think was going to happen?” he asks.

Nothing. You didn’t think anything was going to happen.

You reply, “I didn’t expect anything to happen. I never pressured you. I never- I didn’t ask for any of this. Am I not allowed to be sad?”

There’s no point in telling him you’d move with him if he asked. Seven months together… it’s a long time. But it’s not forever, and it’s not long enough, apparently.

Julia’s in the flat that night. She always seems to know which nights to be home and not out with her sickeningly perfect boyfriend.

She doesn’t say anything, just hands you the box of takeout as you whisper, “I’m so tired of begging to be loved.”

It’s a cheap shot, you know that, but still. There’s plenty of love in your life. But the begging…

It’s silent, never leaving your lips. But it’s always screaming inside your head.

Love me, love me, love me. I am making myself lovable for you. Love me.

He knows not to text, not to call. You hear he’s in town and are relieved that you don’t hear from him. At least he knows enough to leave you alone.

You’ll love someone for eternity, until they decide they don’t want it anymore. Once they decide, they’re not allowed back. They can’t come back. It wouldn’t be healthy.

And fuck if you weren’t going to be healthy.

table of contents

#jamie tartt x reader #jamie tartt fanfiction #jamie tartt imagine #jamie tartt x y/n #jamie tartt x you #jamie tartt #ted lasso

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ackerifle · 5 months

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Thoughts on the type of reader that Yandere Levi would fall for?? Headcanon’s if possible!

yours sincerely!

yan. levi ackerman x fem. reader

+ CW. — headcanon’s: reverse power dynamics/power imbalance deadlock, abuse of power & authority, mass enablers; awfully casual in comparison to previous works; not proof-read.

if i were to be so blatantly honest, i’d always thought levi would truly only be prone to falling in love with the first person who taught him how to read.

an absolute requisite quality, and there are far too many (unnecessary) layers to this particular headcanon that i simply must go into because i’ve overthought this concept an unfathomable amount of times. for one, it locks into every trope i enjoy, so forgive me because this will be extremely self-indulgent; someone who is literate would have likely had a good upbringing, perhaps hailing from wall sheena or even the royal capital, or someone in a position of power. it’s plausible to think that those living in wall maria, the underground, and even certain regions in wall rose are illiterate due to the fact that reading and writing is, in itself, a display of wealth and power during this time. and naturally, those who would have understood any cohesive form of text would have (presumably) been raised or lived in the more affluent areas within the walls.

however, all of the ranked officials of the survey corps are required to know how to read, for rather obvious reasons. the commander, section commander, captains and vice captains, even the squad leaders; it’s near indisputable that they all must know. and considering that levi is promoted to a captain position later in his life, it is needless to say he does eventually acquire the skill that is: learning the written language. i find it highly improbable that he was ever taught to understand it prior to becoming a legal citizen of the three walls, both due to lack of need (as there were more important matters that took priority), and because who would have taught him? surrounded by a populace that is already struggling and competing for basic necessities, traditional educational values such as reading and writing would never come of use when the main objective has always been to live.

aside from his upbringing and origins, i think levi’s lack of literary knowledge would be an insecurity of his, at least initially. levi is praised time and time again for being strong, but writing can be such a sophisticated skill— a stark contrast to what he has known, and it does something to his pride. so for someone to take the time and effort, especially if it were someone of importance to the corps. one who is already quite busy and most certainly has better things to do than lend a hand to a complete stranger who has been nothing but insolent and unpleasant, one who gets absolutely nothing in return but still takes the time to teach him, to be understanding, to be unprejudiced and to not mock him for something he couldn’t help, something he cannot be faulted for not knowing; then i think levi would fall hard for them. the act alone demonstrates patience and a genuine kindness, with a touch of respect, and levi hasn’t gotten much of any of that in his life.

additionally, someone who is emotionally intelligent with good judgment. how come? because we always want what we cannot have. now, that isn’t to say levi isn’t emotionally intelligent, he is quite in touch with his own feelings and that of others, but it is the fact that he has difficulties— or rather, lack of means to express them that he has issues with. levi is greatly accustomed to being misinterpreted by others, his intentions and sentiments aren’t always clear because he grew up in an environment where they weren’t allowed to be; so to be met with acceptance, even if it may not be fully grasped, or perhaps indifference entirely, it would be something new, something different, but something levi would be okay with.

after the passing of furlan and isabel, the only two people who would ever come close to being family to him, there are only a handful of people levi maintains any sort of strong bond with (in fear of losing even more), and only very few will ever witness such rare moments of vulnerability from him. but if someone were to read him in such a way where he simply couldn’t deny his emotions and feelings, where he just couldn’t hide from them, then just maybe they could teach him how to love as well. and perhaps i (mis)characterize levi too much like a scared little boy in spite of the fact that he’s a whole grown ass man pushing forty, but really, that is how i perceive yandere levi. he has faced too many losses to count, and levi is not the type to fall victim to love’s clutches so easily, but when he does, he just won’t let go.

and as for good judgment? someone who is decisive, confident in their own insight, with enough forethought to have the best interest of others in mind, but is pragmatically self-aware. as much as i can appreciate and acknowledge the insane potential of levi having a darling who is on the innocent side, naïve and even possibly sheltered, i personally find it much more appealing to pair him with someone who has witnessed and withstood the horrors of the world first-hand; as that alone would strengthen the chemistry between you two, a shared experience that truly touches the heart. a darling who is not instilled with false hopes, nor blinded by a romanticized picture of life to the point of delusion, but one that can balance their rationality and compassion. you’re mentally sound, until you’re not. because while i’d imagine his darling to be, bluntly, a very sane person, one who is begrudgingly tolerant to his antics and peculiar mannerisms, that also doesn’t have the heart to push him away; i simultaneously believe that levi would engage in borderline childish banter with you. he wants to be the reason you feel things because you cause him to feel things.

levi may be regarded as a man of brute force, but that isn’t to say he won’t delve into the intricacies of the human mind. taking into account where he was brought up and the survival skills necessary to navigate life, manipulation may not be his preferred method but if it is the one that works, then so be it. and it’s more so cunning if anything, he works you well because he knows you well. and this has been a long time coming, but let me just outright state my fondness for: the utilization of reversed power dynamics specifically with levi’s darling. someone who should logistically have more power than levi. whether that be in the military, socially, politically, or even financially; but simply cannot win because levi is irreplaceable and literally that in demand for humanity’s success. it makes it all the more hurtful when the enablers to his behavior are your equally respected peers who have no intention of helping you. ultimately choosing to feign ignorance because a single person’s suffering is worth keeping levi.

would he be able to bother and pester you had you been of lower ranking to begin with? most definitely, but as nice as it is to have someone — like a cadet, per se — follow his every whim because they have to, because that’s how the hierarchy intends, it is so much more rewarding and gratifying to bring someone above you to their knees— literally and figuratively. conquering you— no, having you, is the greatest gift there is. and just like everything in levi’s life, it is an achievement well earned, something he has worked hard for, rather than handed to him on a silver platter. of course, you are an individual, he does not strictly see you as a possession to be won or prize to be had, but you are also his. so in a way, you are, recompense for the hardships and miseries (amongst other atrocities) that levi has had to endure for god knows how long. and as humble as he is, levi’s a little entitled to some sort of compensation, no?

#ackerifle #yandere #yandere x reader #yandere attack on titan #yandere aot #yandere aot x reader #yandere levi ackerman #yandere levi ackerman x reader #levi ackerman x reader

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brookbee · 2 months

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I know people are either following me because I used to post about Star Trek constantly or because I post about Bowie a lot, so here’s some random David Bowie and Star Trek connections I’ve been collecting for the past year or so. This is purely self-indulgent, but if you find this sort of thing interesting, here you go.

This is from an unpublished interview for Zygote magazine from 1971 where he was discussing the meaning of various songs. The particular song he's talking about here is "The Supermen." In case you don't want to read the full article for context, he mentioned Star Trek to act as a comparison, he was not saying that that was the initial inspiration/meaning.

This ad has song notes that Bowie wrote for the album Hunky Dory. The one of relevance is “Bewlay Brothers,” which is at the bottom of the list. It says, “Another in the series of David Bowie confessions — Star Trek in a Leather Jacket.”

You might be wondering what this means, well Bowie never really gave a consistent answer as to what this song was about. And according to Ken Scott, the producer of the album, Bowie purposefully wrote it to give a song to Americans who were reading too much into things (this was in the era of the Paul McCartney actually died and was replaced conspiracy lol). Bowie did say at different points that it was more or less about his own half-brother, but who knows if he changed his mind about that.

Although as a side note I will say that some of the lyrics sound like they could be describing Star Trek episodes lol

My Life With Bowie: Spider From Mars by Woody Woodmansey (drummer for the Spiders From Mars, Bowie’s band during the Ziggy Stardust era). He’s describing the bar in The Rainbow Room, as they were rehearsing for the most elaborate of the Ziggy Stardust concerts in August of 1972.

Mick Ronson talking about the Ziggy Stardust boots, the clip is from the documentary Beside Bowie: The Mick Ronson Story. Angie, in case people don’t know, was Bowie’s first wife.

Side note about this one though, Bowie compared his own boots to wrestler boots (see image below). But Mick’s shoes weren’t far off from the Star Trek boots.

Book page from Moonage Daydream: The Life and Times of Ziggy Stardust, which was written by David Bowie and photographer Mick Rock.

Bowie in Brussels in 1978 doing (his best attempt at) the Vulcan LLAP salute, photo by Gie Knaeps.

Because I’m me, I’ve been trying to figure out what song he did this during—with certainty I can say it was during the second half of the set after the intermission. That would make it so that they were either songs from Ziggy Stardust or from Station to Station.

My guess (and it really is only a guess) is that it could have been during “TVC15.” When he performed it live he’d often sing “she’s my main creature feature” and sometimes do devil horns with his fingers and whatnot. Seems like a plausible spot, anyhow. The other one is potentially the song “Ziggy Stardust,” but just based on how he usually performed that one, such as where he’d add gestures and how he tended to convey the emotions of the song, I find it more unlikely.

But I wasn’t there and these are literally just guesses. On the off chance someone was there and that they inexplicably remember this, I would love to know.

Gates McFadden, before being Beverley Crusher in Star Trek: The Next Generation, was the choreographer for the film Labyrinth, where of course Bowie played Jareth the Goblin King.

And to avoid possible confusion, she was not the choreographer for "Magic Dance" at least when it came to Bowie's moves, as that was Charles Augin. She was, however, the choreographer for "As The World Falls Down" with the ballroom scene.

Lyrics from one of the Tin Machine albums (Bowie’s band in the late 80s-early 90s, which Bowie wrote most of the lyrics for, minus a few songs).

Additionally Iman, who Bowie met in 1990 and married in 1992, was in Star Trek: The Undiscovered Country as Martia. She was on set filming at least in April of 1991 in LA, as you can see in this filming schedule I found on an auction website. I don’t know how long she was filming for, though.

(Side note, Bowie was in LA at least towards the end of April/beginning May as he talked about how he and Iman saw the riots that happened then. No I’m not saying he visited the set, since for one Shatner says he never met Bowie, but I still think it’s neat he was generally around when she was filming).

And a little snippet from one article (the screenshot is from one of those interview compilation books).

It’s not actually that much in the grand scheme of things and more than anything just shows that Bowie was a fan of the show. It should also be remembered that Star Trek wasn’t ever really cited as a huge influence for him in terms of aesthetic, which is a rather common assumption people make, but I thought that these were fun nonetheless. I’m sure I also missed/forgot stuff, so if I come across more I'll probably add to this later on.

#hey remember that trek fan that turned into a bowie blog? yeah me neither pfft #but anyways this is the post I mentioned #I tried to explain everything in case people only have like cursory knowledge of Bowie. so hopefully this all makes sense #star trek #david bowie #bowieposting #trekposting

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havealotonmymind · 2 months

Text

Girls' Night

Summary: Finally free from Zariel’s rule, Karlach is determined to live the remainder of her life to the fullest. The first thing she wants to do? Hold a girls’ night with her fellow companions.

Rating: Teen and Up

Category: Astarion & Gale & Karlach & Lae'zel & Shadowheart & Tav & Wyll (Baldur's Gate), Karlach & Tav (Baldur's Gate), Karlach & Shadowheart (Baldur's Gate), Karlach & Lae'zel (Baldur's Gate), Minor Astarion/Named!Tav

Additional Tags:

Developing Friendships, Minor Astarion/Tav (Baldur's Gate), Party Banter, Girls' Night, Act 1 (Baldur's Gate 3), Act 1 Astarion Being Act 1 Astarion (Baldur's Gate), Named Tav (Baldur's Gate), Tiefling Tav (Baldur's Gate), Fighter Tav (Baldur's Gate)

Also available on AO3!

I’ll probably say this about every one-shot I write for this series, but this is by far the most self-indulgent thing I’ve written. The whole fic is just unending party banter. The girls need more friendship moments together and I'm willing to provide lol.

Being really, truly free of the Hells was intoxicating. No lingering scent of sulfur on what little she owned? No demons? No Zariel? Gods, even the sight of weeds poking through the grass was enough to make her cry.

And to have a new group of friends to share that all with, too? Man, she had never felt luckier. They were an odd group that argued more than got along, but Karlach wouldn’t trade them for anything. All pretty decent people across the board. Even Astarion had his moments.

After a few days of traveling with them all, Karlach felt she had grown to know her companions pretty well. That called for some kind of celebration. One of the most sacred and cherished traditions in all of Faerûn.

“Hey, soldier, should we have a Girls’ Night?” Karlach asked, unable to contain her excitement mid-adventure. Well, adventure in the loosest sense of the word. Leviathala frowned down at their map trying to navigate while Astarion supplied unhelpfully vague directions over her shoulder. The two had been arguing back and forth for the better part of an hour.

Shadowheart latched onto Karlach’s suggestion with all the vigor of a drowning person clinging to a lifeboat. “Please. Anything to get them to stop talking.”

“Excuse me? I was helping!” Astarion said.

“Saying ‘let’s go over there’ and pointing at a random spot on the map is not helping, Astarion. And by the time I figure out where there even is, you change your mind anyway,” Leviathala snapped.

“You’re an adventurer, aren’t you? Have a little sense of, well, adventure.”

Leviathala’s bright blue eyes—brighter still against the stark black of her sclera—burned holes into him. She looked two seconds away from snapping his neck.

Karlach stepped in between them. “Hey now, come on! Lev, when was the last time you had a girls’ night, eh? A proper girls’ night! Shootin’ the shit, maybe a drink or two.”

“Yes, because there are such excellent taverns nearby,” Astarion scoffed. “Of course, there’s always Waukeen’s Rest! I hear the staff are all fired up to serve new customers.”

Lev coughed to hide a laugh. “Gods above, you’re terrible.”

“Morally yes, but you still laughed.”

“It was incredibly tasteless. Of course I laughed. At you, not with you, mind.”

“Charming as this banter is, the sun is going to set soon and I’d much rather have a full girls’ night instead of half of one,” Shadowheart butt in. “So let’s reconvene at camp, hm?”

Lev stashed her map away. “Fine. Lead on, then.”

Once they made their way back, Gale looked up from the cauldron where he was cooking their dinner. “Ah, you’ve all made it back in one piece, I see. Find any good herbs out there?”

Lev pinched the bridge of her nose. “Of course we forgot to get the one thing we set out for in the first place.”

His smile fell. “Well, at least I have some salt and pepper left.”

“Oh wait, I did grab some leafy things from a barrel. Stole it from the Zhentarim after we wiped ‘em out in their hideout. They smelled nice. Dunno if these are herbs, though,” Karlach said as she handed over a fistful of leafy stalks.

“Basil! Oh, thank Mystra. At least our food will taste halfway decent.” As he plucked and scattered the leaves into the stew, he added, “Might I also hope for some spices to go along with that basil?”

“I’m afraid you’re going to have to keep hoping. The spiciest thing we found today was smokepowder,” Lev said as she sat heavily on a log across from him. Karlach planted the smokepowder barrels next to their other supplies for emphasis.

“Ah. Still valuable, of course, but not exactly good for digestion.”

Even without all the usual spices at his disposal, Gale managed to make a fine meal indeed. None of their leftover food went to waste. Even the bones of last night’s boar helped to create a rich stock.

“Gale, you do astound me,” Wyll said. “How you manage to make a feast from scraps is a rare talent indeed.”

“Thank you. But I must ask, what did you eat in your time as the Blade of Frontiers?”

“Oh, mostly cured meats from game I hunted myself. When I have a quarry in my sights, I rarely have the time to sup as I would like.”

“Well, I’m glad my meager fare is to your liking, your grace.” Gale bowed his head and the others smirked over their bowls. Their recent run-in with Counsellor Florrick garnered a lot of teasing about his duke status that poor Wyll had yet to live down.

“Please, out here, I’m just Wyll.”

“For what it’s worth, you’ve more than earned the Blade of Frontiers title. A set of horns isn’t going to change that.” Karlach moved as if to nudge his shoulder, then thought better of it at the last second. “And if anyone gives you any trouble about it, I’ll always stick by you, Wyll.”

His smile was a bright point in the dark. “Thank you, Karlach. That truly means a lot.”

They finished dinner not long after. Karlach took a few deep breaths to make sure she wouldn’t get too excited for the night ahead. The few girls’ nights she’d seen other clusters of friends host in the Gate always seemed like a good time. Of course, those were held in lively taverns or restaurants, but surely their group could make do out here.

“Yeah, well, it’s been fun, but I think it’s time you guys pop off. It’s girls’ night tonight.”

“What happened to ‘I’ll always stick by you, Wyll’?”

“You’ll be nearby. Us girls just need a bit of time to ourselves, though, so go on.” Karlach shooed the men away like one would an unruly pet caught chewing something it wasn’t supposed to.

Gale turned to Wyll as the two trailed off. “What are we gentlemen to do? Have our own boys’ night perhaps?”

“I doubt Astarion would be inclined to join any more group activities than are required of him.”

“Probably for the best.”

Without a common thread to keep them tethered, they simply drifted to their own tents for the night.

“Damn, it’s good to be alive!” Karlach fell against one of the bedrolls she set up by the campfire. It was a lovely night out. All the nights so far had been pretty damn lovely. The faint scent of damp earth, the rustling trees—all of it fresh and healthy and alive.

How had she never noticed how much life there was on the surface before now? Even the wind flowing through her hair felt like a living thing, winding soft fingers through and around the strands like it was trying to weave an intricate braid.

Shadowheart smiled briefly. “So you’ve said. Many times, I might add.”

“And it’s true every time!” Karlach sat right back up again. “When people tell you to stop and smell the flowers every now and then, they aren’t joking.”

Leviathala curled her legs and tail in towards her. “You’re telling me. It’s been so long since I’ve been outside the city. I’d forgotten how big the world truly is.”

“Right? There’s so much up top. I want to see it all!”

“I’ve been trying to keep an eye out for this gith crèche Lae’zel keeps mentioning,” Leviathala said. “So far, no luck.”

“Where is Lae’zel, anyway? I haven’t seen her since we came back.”

The sound of metal steadily clanking closer drew their attention. Lae’zel marched up to them in full plate-armor, helmet and all. “I am ready.”

Karlach raised an eyebrow. “Uh, what’s all that for?”

“Astarion informed me of the long-honored Faerûnian custom of Girls’ Night. I am merely prepared to undertake the trials ahead.” She scanned over the other women in their casual nightwear and frowned. “Why are you all so woefully unprepared?”

It was only when Leviathala failed to hide her laughter did it finally hit her.

Lae'zel lowered her longsword. “So, I assume Astarion has lied to me, then.”

“You can take all that off. Relax! Let your hair down!” Karlach patted the spare bedroll next to her.

Lae’zel scowled but shed her armor and sat all the same. “Chk! I will keep my hair as it is lest it get in my way. Perhaps Leviathala had the right idea in trimming away the excess.”

“Oh, I cut my hair myself.” Lev fluffed out the choppy dark strands with a proud smile.

Shadowheart threw her a pitying look. “It shows.”

At Lev’s frown, Karlach gave an uneasy laugh. “Hey, come on now! I think it looks great. A lot softer than my hair, anyway. Can’t do a thing with it when my hands are constantly on fire.”

Shadowheart made a face. “So it didn’t used to be that…crunchy?”

“I’m gonna ignore you calling it crunchy so my engine doesn’t explode on you.”

“Sorry, brittle. Is that better?”

“It was a lot curlier when I was younger,” Karlach said, ignoring her. “My mum almost drove herself to tears trying to get it together for parties. Didn’t help that I always wanted to go roughhouse instead of sit still. I was a right menace as a kid.”

“Sounds about right. I imagine curly hair looks nice on you, actually,” Shadowheart relented.

“What about you, Shadowheart? I’ve never seen your hair out of that neat braid. I bet you’ve got really gorgeous hair.” Karlach scooted as close as she dared.

Shadowheart flipped the braid back over her shoulder, preening. “Naturally. And as dark as the night, too.”

“Is this all a Girls’ Night entails?” Lae’zel snapped. “Encouraging each other’s vanity?”

“I mean, sometimes, but right now, we’re just talking. Warming up, getting to know each other.” Karlach rolled her shoulders like she was gearing for a fight. “Gotta stretch out the ol’ social skills again if we’re gonna be traveling together, right?”

“This is a waste of my time. I’m leaving.”

Before she could stalk back to her tent, Karlach yelled, “Boooo! Give it a chance, Lae’zel! We haven’t even gotten to the best part yet!”

Lev and Shadowheart exchanged a glance before looking expectantly at Lae’zel. Much as the gith tried to play stoic and untouchable, her desire to know more about this Plane far outshone that stubborn streak of hers.

“Very well. This had better be worth it.” She knelt on the bedroll Karlach had laid out for her, strategically placed furthest away from Shadowheart.

“So, of everyone in our camp…” Karlach held up three fingers. “Who would you snog, marry, or kill?”

Both Lev and Shadowheart groaned while Lae’zel merely blinked.

“Gods, I haven’t played that since I was twelve,” Lev said, barely holding back a chuckle.

“Ah, ah! Answer the question, Lev!”

“Me? Why me first?”

“Because you’re the first one to talk! Why else?” Karlach said.

When Lev waved her away, she only leaned in closer. “Come on, Lev! Just pick three of us! Could even be one of us three.”

“Oh? In that case, I would kill Shadowheart,” Lae’zel said without hesitation.

Shadowheart scowled. “The feeling is mutual, gith. You’re lucky Lev stepped in the last time I tried to kill you or I would have slaughtered you in your sleep.”

Lae’zel immediately drew a dagger. “Try your luck and see where such talk will lead, istik. I will not hesitate to put you in your place this time.”

“Girls, girls, come on! Can you stop antagonizing each other for like two minutes?” Karlach sighed. “I just wanna have a little fun with my new mates. Is it really so much to ask for you two to calm down for a night?”

Lae’zel and Shadowheart glared at one another for a moment longer before settling back in their respective bedrolls.

“I will honor this Girls’ Night by quelling my fury. Do not expect it to last into the morning,” Lae’zel sniffed.

An awkward smile crept along Karlach’s lips. She had to get this girls’ night going properly or it’d all fall apart. “R-Right, so kiss, marry, kill. Who wants to go first?”

Lev took a long sip of water, pointedly avoiding eye contact. Shadowheart and Lae’zel both refused to look at the other, instead glaring off into different points in the distance.

“Fine. I’ll go then!” Karlach grumbled. Better to lead by example and all that. “Snog Astarion. Marry either Wyll or Shadowheart. Probably Wyll. My heart fluttered when he went against Mizora for me. I’ll never forget that. Kill…wait, hold on…”

“No, you started it. Now finish it,” Shadowheart said. “Go on. Tell us which one of us you’d kill given the choice.”

“Aw, that’s not fair! I just met you all like a tenday ago!”

“And yet here you are potentially offering me your arm in marriage.” Shadowheart shook her head. “And you haven’t even taken me out for dinner. I haven’t met your parents yet, either. Surely, we’d want their blessing first.”

Ah man. She really was someone to take home to the folks. If they were still alive, no doubt they’d find Shadowheart just as endearing as Karlach did.

Still, that wasn’t really something you told a tentative friend. She scooted just a little closer to her githyanki companion. “Lae’zel? What about you?”

Lae’zel scowled and she almost backed away. Maybe she thought this all too childish. Giths were pretty vicious from what little she knew about them. What if she thought all this was beneath her or something?

“Snogging is…sex, yes?” she began uneasily.

“Er, no, it’s more just…kissing. Y’know, making out?”

Lev almost spat out her water trying not to laugh. “I’m pretty sure there isn’t a gith equivalent to making out, Karlach.”

Lae’zel frowned. “This ‘making out’ is equivalent to snogging, then? Another word for a kiss?”

Bless her for trying, at least.

“Well, deeper kissing,” Lev offered.

“Sometimes with tongue,” Karlach supplied with a cheeky grin.

This time, Lev did spit out her water.

“Very well. I have made my choice.” Lae’zel’s eyes swept over their camp. “If you forced me under threat of death to snog any of our companions, I would choose you, Karlach. I believe you are best suited for the type of kissing I desire.”

Karlach’s grin only grew. “I’m flattered, thanks!”

“As for marriage, Wyll is the best choice by far. He is the most accustomed to this adventuring lifestyle and has more important political ties to this Baldur’s Gate than any of you. He is a worthy ally to have at my side.”

“Hey now, this isn’t something to take that seriously—”

“As for killing, well, if Shadowheart were no longer an option, then there is always Astarion.”

Karlach laughed. Even in silly games like this, Lae’zel gave it her all. “Wyll’s pretty popular, huh?”

“He was my choice for marry, too,” Lev piped up. “As for kill, I’d also choose Astarion. He wanted to kill me the first time we met, so it seems fair.”

“And who’re you snogging? Is it any of us?” Karlach gasped. “Is it Gale?”

“No, that’s all you’re getting from me.”

“Come on! That’s boring!”

“You never chose who you’d kill! Don’t come after me for not picking someone to kiss!”

“Why? Is the person you’d kiss someone embarrassing?” Shadowheart asked. The tiny glint in her eyes spelled mischief.

“No! I just…” Lev rolled her wrist uselessly. “Well, I’m not generally interested in that sort of thing until I get to know someone a lot more first.”

“But you do have someone in mind. I can sense it. That’s why you’re being so dodgy.” Shadowheart’s eyes roamed over the camp. Gale was preoccupied with organizing spell scrolls into everyone’s packs. Wyll fenced against a wooden dummy. Astarion stood farther off than the rest, engrossed in some book he’d pilfered from an old temple they raided not long ago.

“Being a cleric of Lady Shar has granted me far more wisdom into the darkness in others’ hearts than most,” she said. “In your heart of hearts, I know who lies at the center.”

Lev’s jaw tightened, her shoulders bunched together like she was about to bolt.

“It’s Withers, isn’t it?”

Lev blinked at her owlishly then both she and Karlach burst out laughing. The sound rang clear throughout the forest, a chorus that sent a few nearby birds flying.

“I never knew you were this funny, Shadowheart. You always seem so serious all the time!” Karlach said as she leaned back on her hands.

“I’m hilarious. Once you get to know me, that is.”

“Yes, well, once you get some alcohol into me, I might be more inclined to tell you all the truth,” Lev said. All three women immediately shoved the nearest bottles of wine they could towards her.

“Wow, okay, give me a minute to recover. Gods…”

“So, Shadowheart? Snog, marry, kill?” Karlach asked before she slung back a few gulps of Amnian Dessert Wine. The sweeter stuff wasn’t really to her taste, but being picky never got anyone anywhere good. Better to try all the new things she could while she had the chance.

“Hm, well, you all know I’d kill Lae’zel. Kiss…maybe Lev or Gale. They have very…soft-looking lips.” She gave Lev a quick once-over. “As for marriage, if any of you wish to open your hearts to Lady Shar—”

“Erm, hard pass,” Karlach said.

“Sorry, but no,” Lev replied.

“I serve but one deathless goddess: Vlaakith and Vlaakith alone.”

“Right, so, barring the usual religious factors, I’d probably marry Karlach. You look like you could take care of me properly. More so than any other person I’ve met so far.” Her eyes slid slyly to Lev. “No offense.”

“I wasn’t offended until you said that. But thanks, I guess.”

Karlach felt the engine in her chest burn just a tad hotter. “Fuck yes, I could take care of you! Trust Mama K to handle everything from here on out!”

“Of course. So long as you don’t expect me to call you Mama K. Karlach suits you just fine.” Shadowheart smiled from over her bottle of wine. “Now, who would you kill? Go on.”

“I’ll tell only if Lev says who she wants to kiss.”

“Er, we can’t both go at the same time. Which would you rather hear first?” Lev tilted her head towards Karlach, clearly indicating who she preferred.

“Snog, obviously!” Karlach said.

Shadowheart smirked. “Oh, yes, kiss first, please. This is the far more interesting option.”

“Oh, fuck off,” Lev said and downed the rest of her wine.

“Come on, Lev! Tell us!” Karlach said.

“Do tell. Then we can finally move on from this inane game and onto the best part Karlach has planned,” Lae’zel pointed out.

Karlach tried not to betray the fact that all she had planned next was several rounds of Truth or Dare or Strip Talis until they all passed out for the night. Whatever Lae’zel’s idea of a good time was, she wasn’t sure she wanted to know.

Lev sighed and waved them all closer at last. They all leaned in, straining to hear as she cupped both hands around her mouth.

“Astarion.”

Karlach blinked. “What? But you said you wanted to kill him!”

“Kill, snog…same thing at the end of the day.” Lev shrugged. “They both teach you how to empty yourself for someone. Love and hate ride a fine line or…something.”

“Wait, you can’t choose the same person for two different answers. That hardly seems fair,” Shadowheart said.

“Fine. Snog Gale then. Happy?”

“Nah, nah, hold on, soldier. I wanna know why you were so dodgy about answering. You got a crush on him, right?”

“Gods, we really are reverting back to teenagers, aren’t we?” Lev sighed. “Doesn’t really matter, I suppose. I already slept with him.”

Their collective gasps and screams of scandalized delight echoed for miles.

“No fucking way! Lev, you sly minx!” Karlach smacked the ground hard as she laughed. Blackened scorch marks in the shape of her hand torched the soil she touched.

Shadowheart covered her mouth with a hand. “You didn’t! Oh, Lev…”

“To think, you chose some malnourished parasite over me,” Lae’zel sniffed. “I don’t know if your refusal should be my shame or yours.”

“Wait, when? Were you drunk? Is that why?” Karlach asked, engine still pounding away to keep up with her excitement. Who knew quiet Lev had it in her?

“Er…”

“Whoa, you did him sober? On purpose?”

Lev covered her face with her hands. “Karlach, not so loud…”

“I was just teasing before, but damn, you really do like him, don’t you?”

Shadowheart smirked. “I never had any doubt. You two are always pushing one another’s buttons. It’s painful watching you sometimes.”

“It’s not as if I’m slinging horrid lines at him like he does with everyone else.”

“No, but what was it you said earlier? There’s a fine line between love and hate? Underneath all your insults and arguing, I’d wager you might be a little in love with him.”

“How presumptuous of you.” Lev stared off into the distance. “He asked me, by the way. It was a mutual agreement. He was probably just bored. It won’t happen again.”

A breezy sigh from behind them made Karlach sit straighter. They all glanced back to see Astarion hovering just a couple feet away. “Look, as charming as it is to hear you all gossip away within earshot of my tent, it is getting to be rather late.”

“Wait, what could you hear?” Lev asked, sounding a touch panicked.

“Nothing specific. Just noise. So I suggest you keep it down.” The edges of their silence caught his attention. “Why? Are you gossiping about the other two? Because if so, I want to join in.”

“Well, Karlach wanted a Girls’ Night, so I don’t think—”

Karlach felt the edges of her mind being nudged by Shadowheart. She tried to repress a shudder. All this tadpole-sharing business still took some getting used to.

Let him stay. I want to see where this goes, Shadowheart thought, throwing them all a sly smile. We can all make fun of him if he ends up crossing a line.

“No, no, he can stay for a bit,” Karlach said out loud. “Say, Astarion. If you could kiss anyone in camp right now, who would it be?”

He snorted. “Is this what your drunken rabble has been reduced to? Gods, that’s something ten year olds dabble in.”

Shadowheart smirked. “Funny, that’s almost exactly what Lev said.”

“And she’s right. Contrary to what you might think, I don’t kiss and tell.”

“So you have kissed someone at camp then?” she pressed. “I can’t say I’m surprised.”

Astarion faltered. “I was talking about kissing in general. I wouldn’t kiss any of you if you paid me.”

“Wow, that’s cold. I think quite a few of us are pretty kissable,” Karlach said. “Take Lev, for instance. She’s real cute, isn’t she?”

She tried not to laugh as Lev threw her an absolutely murderous look.

Much to her surprise, Astarion crooned, “Oh, dear Karlach. Does someone have a crush?”

“What? Not me! I was, er, I mean, Lev is cute! But I…or rather, you…”

“Because I’d advise against pursuing it,” he cut in impatiently. “Best take care that damned infernal engine of yours doesn’t explode under the pressure.”

“Hey! I’ve kept it intact for near-on ten years now. I can handle hanging around a cute girl or three.”

Astarion merely scoffed. “Yes, well, better to assuage your excitement now so we can all get our beauty rest. Gods know you need it.”

Lev flushed and stared at the dirt.

Okay, that was enough.

“Put a cork in it, Fancy Boy,” Karlach snapped. “If anything, you need it most. Those frown lines are really unbecoming, darling.”

“What? I don’t have…” He ran quick fingertips between his furrowed eyebrows. “I need to go.”

Astarion swept back to his tent, distraught in the wake of their laughter.

“Yeah, I can see what you like about him. He’s such a catch.” Karlach smiled conspiratorially at Lev. “Honestly, though, I can’t blame you. I’d ride that elf all night if I could.”

“Karlach!”

“He’s arrogant, a liar, and a pretty idiot,” Shadowheart added. “So yes, I’d imagine that’s why most people would fall in love with someone like him.”

Lae’zel made a face. “Beauty in itself is hardly a valuable trait. Especially when it so commonly fades with time.”

“Well, he is a vampire. At least his only redeeming quality will remain preserved.” Shadowheart shrugged. “Can’t say much about the rest of him, though.”

Lev sputtered, “I just like looking at him, is all.”

“Oh no, soldier, that’s how it starts, you know,” Karlach said. “Those longing looks are just the beginning. Next, it’s daydreaming about him and finding more excuses to talk to him—”

“Believe me, holding a conversation with him is the last thing I—”

“And trying desperately to get his attention,” Shadowheart said. “Don’t forget that one.”

“I don’t want his attention!”

“Ah, that’s all part of step one. Denial. You got it bad.” Karlach grinned. It’d been a while since she could grill someone like this without having to worry about being punished for it.

“There’s nothing to have. Besides, you want to snog him, too. Why am I the only one being made fun of?”

“I don’t know. You were the one who slept with him. You tell us.”

Shadowheart grimaced. “Actually, don’t tell us. I really don’t care to know.”

“How dull of you,” Lae’zel said. “I didn’t realize followers of Shar were so prudish considering the many depraved things that can happen in darkness.”

Leviathala choked back a laugh. “She has a point.”

“Huh. That’s the last time I defend you, then,” Shadowheart joked as she downed her cup of wine.

They spent the rest of the night falling into more drunk antics. “Never Have I Ever” devolved into a drinking competition of sorts between Karlach and Lae’zel that teetered on the dangerous as they both downed shot after shot, all while confessing horrible acts they committed in war. It was Shadowheart, of all people, who knocked back the least amount of shots purely due to her memory issues.

Then, as all childish sleepovers are wont to do, came “Truth or Dare”. That was quickly cut short the moment Lae’zel dared Shadowheart to a duel to the death. An all-out brawl was imminent. That was, until Lev stepped up to bat the sword of Lae’zel’s hand. “Enough! All of you stop it and go to bed!”

When they all simply stared at her, she added, “Now! What would your goddesses have to say about you engaging in such petty squabbles?”

Lae’zel scowled but conceded the point. Shadowheart merely sniffed and headed back to her tent to isolate herself from the riffraff. Girls’ night was officially over, but Karlach couldn’t complain. Her party was a riot, and all of them at the very least took the games seriously. Her comrades in the Hells (all of whom barely warranted the name) would often ignore her attempts at camaraderie or friendship. The only times she ever got along with any of them was when they were killing demons or ragging on each other.

Leviathala sat on one of the bedrolls Karlach had set up by the campfire, staring into the flames.

“You’re not heading back to your tent?” Karlach asked, taking a seat on the bedroll next to hers.

Lev offered her a small smile. “And leave you all alone? That’d be a sad way to end girls’ night, don’t you think?”

Karlach chuckled to herself. “I’d hug you if I wasn’t afraid of burning your…everything off.”

“I’m sure you could get a quick one in without doing too much damage. I’m not naturally fire-resistant for nothing, you know,” Lev teased. “Besides, you’ll be able to hug and touch people again soon. Whenever we run into Dammon, I’m sure he’ll have some good news for you.”

“Yeah, wouldn’t that be something? But for now, I don’t wanna think about it,” she sighed. “No good to get my hopes up when we don’t even know if it’s possible yet.”

“Sorry.”

“Nah, it’s fine.”

Karlach tossed another two logs onto the crackling embers of the dying fire.

“Do you need this?” Leviathala asked suddenly, holding out a thin vial of some clear liquid.

“What’s that?”

“Seed oil. For my horns. I bought a lot from that halfling druid in the Grove a while ago. I’ve been lending some of my stash to Wyll and showing him how to apply it, but I don’t think I ever asked you if you wanted some.”

Karlach glanced up at Leviathala’s own light blue horns curling up towards the sky like spiring towers. They were very carefully maintained, the tips dulled to more rounded points.

By contrast, her own were rough and worn. One of them had been broken off in a particularly nasty battle against a cambion that had casually insulted Zariel offhand. The archdevil sent Karlach to deal with it alone. By the time she returned, bruised and battered after slaying it and all its minions, Zariel tossed her right back onto the frontlines without so much as a short rest to heal up. Complaining about it after only earned her a dozen lashings and yet another sleepless night.

Karlach took the seed oil vial carefully in between forefinger and thumb, hoping whatever heat residing in her hands wouldn’t cause the cool glass to burst.

She knew she had lost quite a bit of her old life under Zariel’s service, but this was not something she even realized she missed. Karlach had grown too used to the ache of her horns growing out without anything to ease the pain. Just another misery to tack onto a long list serving under an archdevil.

“Thank you,” she said in a small voice.

“No problem. Let me know if you need any more. I have it all covered.”

“Right.”

It had been a long time since anyone had been so kind to her without expecting anything in return. Karlach found a lump growing in her throat and she blinked. Did being up on the surface really make her this soft already?

“Hey, soldier?” she said just to shake it off.

Lev shifted on her bedroll. “Hm?”

“Thanks for tonight. Really. It means a lot to me that you all tried to make it work.”

“Of course. I just hope next girls’ night won’t end in violence.”

“Next girls’ night?” A spark of hope lit in her chest.

“I don’t know when that would be, though,” Lev continued. “Hopefully Lae’zel and Shadowheart will have calmed down by the time we do get around to it. This was really fun before they got into it. Again.”

Karlach stared down at the vial in her hand, trying her hardest not to tear up. Gods, could she really afford to hope for a future? Was it okay for her to do that again?

A couple tears stubbornly spilled over and she swatted them away impatiently.

She glanced over at where Leviathala laid. “Soldier, you still awake?”

“Hm?” Lev’s eyes almost glowed in the dark. “Yeah, you okay?”

“Fine, just…” Karlach took a deep breath, clutching onto the seed oil vial tight. “Love you.”

The silence that followed ate at her. True, they hardly knew each other well enough to say stuff like that, but surely Leviathala understood where the urgency came from.

“Love you too, soldier,” Leviathala said, something like a smile in her voice. “Good night.”

“Yeah, night.”

Karlach stared up at the canopy of stars above her. A streak of bright light shot across and she closed her eyes, wishing with everything within her that this party of hers would never break apart. A childish, vain hope perhaps. But how long had it been since anyone fought tooth and nail for her? It would’ve been so easy to just let Wyll kill her upon first meeting, but they’d advocated for her—a tiefling they didn’t even know.

She laid on her side, staring at the little seed oil vial like it held all the most precious secrets in the world. Up here, with these people at her side, she could dare to hope. She could dream again, breathe free again.

Karlach took a deep breath and popped the cork.

#Baldur's Gate 3 #BG3 #Karlach #Astarion x Tav #very briefly in the background #Damn It's Good to Be Alive! (Karlach)#Wits and Blades Always Sharp (Shadowheart)#The Wayward Tactician (Leviathala)#Keep a Blade Close (Astarion)#One with the Weave (Gale)#Hero at Heart (Wyll)#I am Fury! I am Death! (Lae'zel)#my fanfiction #The Hero and Me (Promotion)

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velvetwastaken · 21 days

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Afterdeath - A Ganqing Fanfic

Author’s Debrief

First off, I feel sooooo pretentious writing this, LOL. But I figure people who don’t care won’t read it, and if they do care, I can only hope they’ll find it mildly interesting.

And so, without further ado, let’s take a peak behind the curtain of this fic!

I first started writing this all the way back in May of 2022. And in the beginning it was very much a way for me to express my own feelings of grief. If Ganyu’s pain in the early chapters felt real, it’s because it is. It’s how I felt, how I sometimes still feel, and how I observed others around me feeling and behaving. The difference is that in Afterdeath, Ganyu gets to do what we in reality cannot. She got to right the wrong in a sense, she got to quench the burning feelings of injustice that so often come hand-in-hand with sudden and unexpected loss.

And that’s part of the beauty of fiction, isn’t it? Sometimes it allows for unreality to feel just a tiny bit real, if only for a while.

I’ve gathered that writing like this might be some kind of psychotherapy? Maybe that’s true. I wouldn’t say that writing this fic helped me overcome my grief. I don’t think grief works like that. It’s part of me now. It always will be. But I think it did help me compartmentalize it, to put it in a space and into words that I can more comfortably handle. So that’s something.

But whatever this fic started out as, it quickly grew to be more than that. And part of that is why I made the choice to post as Anon. I think most people know my writing because of Reversal. And Afterdeath is a whole other beast. Reversal is great, I love it to bits, but it got far more attention that I ever dreamed it would, and I ended up putting a lot of pressure on myself not to disappoint people. And if they were to open Afterdeath expecting more Reversal, they would be VERY disappointed, lol.

But I learned something during this whole writing and posting process: I do not care. Or rather, I am learning to not care. I will write the things I enjoy writing and the things I would want to read myself. Others can read it or not, and that’s okay. I am still happy to share my writing, even if I end up the only one entertained by it. It’ll still be enough.

This fic also has a lot of firsts for me. I have never written something this long. Or with this rating, LMAO! And, if I’m honest, as challenging as it was at times, it was fun to push myself and see what’s possible. I will not claim it’s prefect, or even anywhere close, but It has been something of a confidence booster. And as silly as it feels, I am prodigiously proud of myself for writing—and finishing—this fic. And yes, I fully intend to typeset and bind it for myself because I am that just self indulgent LOL!

I also want to thank everyone who followed along, reading and commenting as I worked on this over the last year. A few people guessed it was me posting very early on, and their support has been instrumental. So THANK YOU! I couldn’t have done it without you.

I am always happy to talk about my fics, or ganqing in general, so if anyone has questions or whatever about anything, my inbox is open.

But now, it’s time to work on some of my other WIPs! Wish me luck lol.

— Velvetwastaken

#my stuff #fanfiction meta #author's note #don't mind me lol

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ladybeug · 10 months

Note

was scrolling thru your art tag enjoying your comics when i suddenly discovered you were the one that wrote strangers in the bright lights. having gotten into miraculous only very recently, was tickled to experience a very small identity shenanigan of my own

incredible fic btw; i love it soooooo much. brilliant, hilarious, sweet, poignant. out of curiosity have you read much postww1 modernist stuff? i adored the usage of free indirect discourse for the narration, drunken and in motion and alive, almost reminded me of virginia woolf in a weird way lol. sorry if this is weird

Hello!! I'm about to get long-winded and self indulgent in this reply, fair warning :)

here goes:

Wow!! I don’t know how you found strangers in the bright lights if you got into ladybug in any time frame that can be described as “very recently”, I wrote that in 2018 when I was digesting some personal stuff and in a fantastic ladybug renaissance (of which I have now had several, I think I’ll die in this fandom).

But I’m so glad you somehow did. I only write every couple of years when I get really specific ideas, and the time I spend on it turns into memories of who I was when I wrote it. I feel like that must happen to actual writers too, ones who write often, but I haven’t written “often” since like 2009 and have never asked, so there you go.

But I guess that’s all to say that I am very attached to that story and it’s also one of the only things I’ve written that still feels like it hit the chord I was aiming for. It is so cool that anyone still reads it!!

To actually answer your question: I have never read virginia woolf, and the only modernist stuff I've read was years ago for school classes. I have to admit none of the style was inspired by classics, but instead inspired by the weird disassociation of trying to be alone in a crowd.

I have a final self-indulgent thought, it is a fun fact I realized as I was going down memory lane about this:

I associate ‘strangers in the bright lights’ with a friendship I made that stands out as one of the luckiest and rarest friendships I’ve made – I went to a mountain goats concert alone, and stood up at the front early, and met someone else who had gone to the same mountain goats concert alone and had stood up at the front early. It was one of the fastest and most comfortable connections I’ve made, and we liked each other so much we stayed in touch, even after they moved away. We are still in touch every so often, and as far as I’m concerned in a few years they’re going to publish the best fantasy novel you’ve ever read, so watch out for that.

The fanfiction is in part inspired by that beautiful feeling of meeting someone new that you want to talk to, and they want to talk to you, and a drink or two has propped up your self esteem and you don’t have to worry about who you are tomorrow, just who you are right now. It’s escapism. You feel important, and carried by that feeling, for as long as you are there. Lonely who? Not me. Trapped by past versions of myself, who? Not me.

Anyways the fun fact is - I found out this morning that concert was a year AFTER I posted this fanfiction. I didn't know about that moment of my life as I was writing this. The two are so connected in my mind that this is genuinely surprising, but the concert was in September 2019 and I published the fanfic a year beforehand.

In the words of mr. mountain goat himself: we held on to hope of better days coming, and when we did we were right!

#i am also tickled to be involved in your ML secret identity shenanigan #its absolutely wild to me when people find my ladybeug blog AFTER they find something else i did - bc this blog is my biggest platform by f #r #anyways thank you again for the kind words and the soapbox on which to share some of my thoughts #strangers in the bright lights

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bluestar22x · 11 days

Text

Clean

Summary: You give Javi a blowjob while in the shower

Pairing: Javi Gutierrez x Germophobic F!Reader

Rating: 18+

Warnings: Oral sex (m and f receiving), fowl language, excessive use of Spanish terms of endearment

Word Count: 1,830(ish)

Author's Note: This is one of the most spontaneous fics I’ve ever written. Just popped right into my head this morning when I should have been thinking about other things and didn't leave. I thought my idea fit Javi G so here's another Javi fic involving water smut. Oh, and this is my first time writing oral sex so keep that in mind.

xxx

Germophobe. That's what your friends and family had labeled you.

As far as you were concerned it was just common sense. The house wasn't truly clean if you didn't disinfect every surface during housework every week. You should use more than one old cloth when cleaning the toilet (the top of the seat having its own assigned cloth because that's where you sit). You should use hand sanitizer throughout your work day and wipe down your phone when you get home. You should always wash your hands after coming indoors from the outside. You should stay six feet away from strangers as much as possible.

You tried not to think too hard about how most people didn't do all those things. Didn't consider germ protection on a daily basis outside of washing their hands after going to the bathroom (and you knew many didn't even do that and it horrified you if you thought too much about it).

You weren't convinced you were a germophobe. You didn't have the high anxiety most germophobic people had over touching dirty items, but then again, if any part of your clothing touched a toilet you changed out of it as soon as you could, and you could only use a public restroom if there was a promise of a shower later in the day.

You weren't like this before Covid. Or at least not nearly as bad. But after the world quarantined you never quite left that space. It was still out there, after all, even if they were saying it wasn't that serious anymore.

You were bad off enough your family was convinced you'd never keep a man, wondering if you could even handle kissing anymore.

It turned out kissing and even regular ol' sex wasn't a problem with you, you were fine with that. The issue was all your house rules put in place to keep your space a safe zone, like no sitting on the couch if you've sat on any public seat beforehand, eventually wore them down.

After going through five different guys in a span of three years you'd begun to go to therapy sessions in secret, but your therapist said it would be slow going to get you comfortable with typical exposure to microbes even though it was considered completely safe (when was the last time a person got sick from just sitting on the average couch?).

Funny enough, the therapist's office is where you had met Javi seven months ago, striking conversation in the waiting room several times before he finally asked you out. He was there because he'd been manipulated by his toxic family for so long that he was having trouble figuring out his sense of self, and when you'd explained why you were there he was nothing but understanding.

Javi was always considerate of your needs. If you were trying to get past an urge you had to clean something that didn't need cleaning he'd get your mind off it. If you weren't ready to do that, he'd indulge you and even help you clean it. He was never pushy about you making progress. He was just supportive.

He was the same in bed, always letting you take the lead and decide what you wanted when you were trying something new.

It was kind of unspoken that oral was off the table, the mere idea of having your mouth on anyone like that making you highly uncomfortable. And as far as you were concerned, if you weren't giving back, you didn't feel right receiving it. You were sure Javi wouldn't mind if things were one sided, you knew participation during sex wasn't supposed to be some kind of competition, but you were all about taking only as much as you gave. You didn't feel right otherwise. You weren't really interested in any kind of oral sex anyway.

Until you were. Over time, as your relationship grew stronger, after "I love yous" were shared and your love making felt less novel, you started to get curious about it. What would it be like?

So many of your friends had mentioned it before, and it was in so many of the books you read, it was an unavoidable question.

Would it be so bad after a shower? You thought you could handle that. As long as you both showered there would be nothing to worry about, right? It's not like you were unfamiliar to each other. You knew Javi was a clean person and you knew he'd never tested positive for any STDs. There was literally no reason for it to trigger your anxiety.

So one lazy Sunday morning you asked Javi to join you in the master bathroom's shower and started washing with him, not telling him your plans just in case you chickened out.

You both started with your hair, taking turns under the shower head to rinse first the shampoo out, then the conditioner.

After that you both took your fresh washcloths off the bar in the roomy shower and squeezed a palm sized amount of the same unscented body wash onto them. But before he could start rubbing himself down with it you halted Javi, grabbing him loosely by the wrist.

"Let's wash each other," you suggested.

He beamed at you. "Oh? Where would you like me to start, cariño? Here?" He lightly swiped the cloth over your left shoulder. "Or here?" He slid the cloth across your chest, above your breasts, and you grinned before guiding his hand lower, to the top of your right breast.

"Here."

Javi was very thorough, taking his time to soap up your breasts, sweeping under them, and paying special attention to both of your buds until your breaths quickened and your eyes fluttered shut. When your first gasp escaped your lips you felt the cloth in his hand move over your shoulders and back before being dragged down your belly, and between your legs.

"Javi," you choked out as he softly stroked between your folds with the cloth. The friction of the cotton felt good. Very good.

"Beautiful," he whispered, soft eyes on your face.

You opened yours to stare into his lust filled chocolate ones and forced yourself to start wiping him down, starting at his expansive shoulders, pausing at times to kiss him, sliding you tongue against his, exploring his mouth, and to breathe while he continued to seek new places on your body with the cloth in the name of getting clean and so much more.

You reached his dick and balls and took your time to clean every crevice and fold to be found, taking him in your empty hand to gain better access.

The almost innocuous way you were paying attention to him still made his length grow and caused him to groan lowly, almost painfully.

"Sound so good Javi," you praised him. "Wanna make you feel even better, guapo."

You knelt in front of him, discarding the cloth to grasp him firmly in your bare hands as the shower water rinsed away the soap.

He gaped at seeing your mouth so tantalizingly close to his cock, the wanting expression on your face, and sucked in a deep breath. "Are you sure, mi luz?"

"You're clean," you replied. "And I'm curious. If you're okay with it?"

"More than, cariño." Whatever you wanted to give him he would take, no matter how little or how much, it was always intoxicating. But if you wanted to try something different, he wouldn't dare say no. He could never say no to you.

You tentatively swept your tongue over his tip, knowing from all the times you'd given him a hand job that it was really sensitive, and you were rewarded with a hiss and the sight of his jaw clenching.

He leaned forward on one hand against the tiled wall of the shower above you as you licked an experimental line up his well-trimmed shaft and squeezed it with your hands before dipping your head back down to suck on his head.

To your pleasant surprise he didn't taste like much of anything except maybe a hint of remnant soap. Mostly he just tasted clean, and felt firm and warm.

Giving oral probably wasn't going to be your new favorite thing, but when you took as much of him as possible into your mouth and a loud moan tore out of him as he reached to cradle the back of your head, you decided this wasn't going to be the last time.

The sounds he made, the way he shuddered at your every touch and lick, made the threat of gagging worth it and pushed away any thoughts of sanitation out of your brain.

And, you thought, if he was reacting to you like this when you'd never given oral before, how would he react once you were more experienced and smooth about it?

You definitely wanted to find out.

For now you drew on what you knew about him already and what you could recall from the books you'd read. Maybe they weren't the most reliable source, but bobbing on him like they described sure seemed to get a positive reaction.

You could see him fighting an urge to move his hips for your sake, and it drove you to show him your appreciation all the more, to thoroughly put your mouth and hands to work.

His knees trembled and you felt yourself leaking at the sight of it, at the guttural groan he released, the sensation of your hot, wet mouth and hands on his cock clearly overwhelming him.

It took one gentle tug of his left ball with your hand and he was pulling away, freeing himself from your mouth. You watched as his cock jerked with his release, his cum spurting onto the shower floor, and he shouted his pleasure out along with it, panting heavily after.

"Shit."

You smiled up at him, proudly as you gripped his thick thigh tightly, wishing you could replay the noises he'd made over and over. "Not bad for my first try?"

He helped you up onto your feet and kissed you feverishly, so intensely you were gasping when you broke apart. "Good then?"

He laughed lightly, sounding almost delirious. "Mi amor, I don't deserve you."

"It's not about deserve," you told him.

"But you are about keeping score, si?"

"Equality," you corrected.

"Please let me, preciosa," he murmured into your ear heatedly, and the next thing you knew he was guiding you back against the shower wall, kissing his way down your body as he sank to his knees, and hiking up one of your legs to gain better access to your pussy, using one of his huge hands to help you keep your balance.

He waited for your yes then ducked down, licking a long strip from your front to your clit. Your eyes rolled into the back of your head with the jolting pleasure the pressure of his tongue sent through your body and you opened up wider to him as you arched against the wet tile behind you, a drawn out moan slipping from you.

Yeah, oral was definitely growing on you.

xxx

Tagged: @harriedandharassed

xxx

Main Masterlist

xxx

#Javi Gutierrez #Javi G Fanfic #Javi G Fanfic (Mine)#TUWOMT Fanfic #X Reader #Fanfiction #Mine

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wordynerdygurl · 2 years

Text

The Queen & The Jester

An Eddie Munson x Female Reader “Choose Your Own Adventure” Story

--------------------------------------------------------------------- Author’s Note: Like so, so, so many of us, the Eddie Munson thirst became too much to bear. After thinking it over, I decided to make this an old school “Choose Your Own Adventure” story. So, be aware: There is SMUT, there is some Angst, depending on the path YOU Choose! Language like cursing, swearing and name calling shows up regularly and... if ye be under 18, stay away! If you interacted with my question about reading an Eddie Fanfic, I’ve tagged you, shamelessly. I sincerely hope you enjoy!! Last thing- This is all terribly self indulgent! Sorry, not sorry! ------------------------------------------------------------------------

There were lots of places where you could make yourself small, insignificant, out of the way. The basement chorus room, with its pile of broken music stands and worn out carpet was one that you used on occasion, but by far the best you had found was the high school library.

Of course, there were high traffic areas in this hall of knowledge; the front, where the reference cards lived in narrow drawers, was always surrounded by someone in a crunch to finish a paper on time. Study desks, organized in long center rows, were constantly in use by the student body. Which is why, when you found what you loving referred to as your nook, you were ecstatic. Out of the way, a little alcove, just big enough for you and your back pack was created when two walls had been unable to meet in a 90 degree angle. This meant there was a little nook that was never used as it was too small for a shelf and there would be no need for a table or chairs back here where students could get up to unwitnessed shenanigans. There were no punny posters or student notices, no decorations of any kind. The rug was, miraculously, free from stains. And because there were no periodicals or encyclopedias in the vicinity, no one really roamed this far back between the towering shelves. The stacks here were filled with novels of the science fiction and fantasy variety, typically shunned by more of the kids crowding the halls. They wanted easy to digest drivel, romantic books with pictures of beefy dudes on the covers or gruesome crime thrillers, things you enjoyed but didn’t find very fulfilling. Or, worse still, was the lack of interest in reading all together, something you just couldn’t imagine. And perhaps that’s why you found the dusty vanilla-like aroma of pressed pages so relaxing. It transported you away from the frustrating reality of your actual life and into places in space and time that you would never be able to reach otherwise. Fingers tracing the laminated spines of stories from authors like LeGuin, Ruel and Lackey, Pratchett and Dick, it was hard to pick just one. Colorful covers of ancient monsters, sword wielding heroes or the collapsing cosmos called to you. Who were you to ignore the summons of such great material? So, most days around lunchtime, if someone was looking, which, let’s be honest, they weren’t, you could be found sitting on this particular piece of library floor with your back against the wall, your knees propping up one of a thousand different books that took you away to worlds where you could just be. Free of judgements and name calling and calorie counting. Free of feeling like a freak. Free to live as many fantastical lives as you possibly could all while sipping on the Slim-fast shake your mother insisted on making you drink or gnawing at an apple. It became such a habit, you taking refuge among the works of Tolkein and Bradbury, that the librarians stopped questioning your presence when the midday bell sounded. You’d just scoot past with a wave, weaving between the aisles until it was just you in your semi-sanctuary, seeking solace in the written words around you. No one paid attention one way or another which was just fine with you. On a day when you were fighting an army of Orcs at Helm’s Deep, worried about whether Gandalf would be good to his word, you found yourself pulled from Middle Earth by the brotherly bickering of two young voices, “It shouldn’t be that hard to find, Mike.” “I know it’s back here, ok Dustin? The index said 082-04, which should be-” startled, you scrambled to grab your stuff, which included the school’s copy of The Lord of the Rings and pushed to your feet quickly. It wasn’t about being caught, you weren't doing anything wrong by reading during your lunch hour; it was more about being exposed. If some underclassmen found you, then really, anyone could. Your private little book nook wasn’t as secret as you had hoped. You weren’t really paying attention as you jammed the remnants of your meager meal into the bottom of your bag, hurrying towards the front of the library. All you could see were the doors getting closer with each panicked step. Maybe that’s why you didn’t see the laughing, lean, leather wrapped body of Eddie Munson until it was entirely too late. — The library was not his scene. No fucking way. Nerds go to the school library. Dweebs, they write papers. Eddie? He smoked during class, sold drugs after lunch, rock ‘n rolled all night and partied everyday. But, if he wanted to graduate and wanted to actually put this hell hole in his rearview mirror, then Eddie “The Freak” Munson had to pass English. Miss Donahue had given him an out. Something, she said, which was typically reserved for her best students: extra credit. If he could read a book, any book he wanted and turn in a report that sounded even remotely like it explained the concept of the story, she’d pass him. Eddie was suspicious but appreciative. He also understood that the teachers here at Hawkins High were just as sick of seeing him kicking around these hallowed halls as he was of them. With this mutually beneficial arrangement in place, Eddie had thought long and hard about what book to pick. It was a daunting decision and not one to be taken lightly. He had opinions, strong, loudly vocalized opinions about the quality of the book he was willing to give his time and attention to. There were some smaller volumes, quick and easy reads, which would be a breeze for sure. Miss Donahue had suggested The Outsiders. That was a good one, Eddie reluctantly agreed, and a book he actually enjoyed. But he rejected it for this project since it sorta felt like a cheap choice as the movie had come out a couple years back. Nearly gagging, someone had suggested The Catcher in the Rye. Uh, no thanks. Not for Eddie. If he was going to pick up a book, it needed to speak to him, ya know? Really mean something. And it had to be interesting enough that he would be able to finish it so he could actually get his damn diploma. Days passed and he was starting to get desperate. He’d risked asking the Hellfire boys what they thought. Was there a novel worth tucking into that could help him pass but also be worth his time? Dustin, always the quickest, snarked, “Eddie the Banished, there’s only one tome that you need read.” “Yea? What’s that Henderson?” Rattling a D20 in his hand, digging the way it sounded when the hard plastic clicked against his rings, Eddie hadn’t bothered lifting his head.

“The Lord of the Rings.” Dustin reveled in the glory of this announcement, proud and smiling. Eddie blinked at him, his face unreadable, “So, you are suggesting that I re-read The Lord of the Rings for Miss Donahue?” With an ounce of appropriate trepidation, Dustin countered, “Is it such a bad idea? You’ve done it before. You know you like the story-” Cutting him off, Eddie slapped the die on the table with a thump, “Henderson, it’s the length of a bible.” “Ok, fair. But maybe just pick one of the volumes? I’m partial to Return of the King, myself.” Damn it. That was a good idea. And it meant that if Eddie didn’t get through the entire thing, he still had enough knowledge of the source material to write a paper decent enough for Miss Donahue. It’s just, he couldn’t let Henderson win that easily. “Hmm…” Circling the table where he held court over his loyal band of merry men, Eddie stroked his chin, contemplating the suggestion, “Ya know, it’s not a bad idea. It’s not a great one either, but-” stopping directly behind Dustin, his hands falling onto Hawaiian shirt covered shoulders, “-It’s The Fellowship of the Ring that is the right answer, Henderson.” Mike snorted, “When they meet the elves and shit?” Spinning on his high-top Reeboks, Eddie skipped to Mike’s side before squatting, “You got a problem with elves, Wheeler?” “Uh, no, no… It’s just… aren’t they a little, ya know, girlie?” “Would you call Legolas girlie? Would you call Thranduil girlie? Huh?” Nose to nose with the skinny freshman, Eddie didn’t relent, waiting him out until the kid conceded with a nod, “No. And besides Mikey-” ruffling the boy’s dark hair as he rose to standing, Eddie laughed over his shoulder, “Arwen is hot.” Gareth and the guys laughed at that, taking it in turns to high five their leader as Eddie resumed his seat at the head of their cafeteria table. Snapping his fingers, an idea came to him right then, one good enough that he announced in his sing-song voice, “Let’s go to the library.” A look passed between Mike Wheeler and Dustin that clearly questioned the sanity of their Dungeon Master. He was prone to overreaction, sarcastic comments and teasing in the loving way favored by older brothers the world over. And when Eddie wanted something, truly, madly, deeply, he was relentless in pursuing it. The boys had learned that loyalty and honoring commitments was paramount for the oldest senior in Hawkins High history. As his soldiers, the next generation of Hellfire Club was theirs to run and Eddie considered it his mission to ensure that kids stepping into his shoes were up to the task. And soldiers didn’t question their leader, not if they were hoping to avoid becoming the focus of one of Eddie’s wordy, wise-crack filled tangents. Dustin had already tossed the remains of his bologna and cheese sandwich onto the table, anticipating the direction Eddie was headed. Reluctant to cave so quickly, it was Mike who summoned the courage to ask, “Now? It’s lunch time.” “Yes, now, fellas. I need to check out my destiny!” Glumly discarding the remains of their lunch trays, the boys followed in Eddie’s wake, watching as he skirted past other members of the student body, his commentary colorful as always. Before too long they arrived at their destination, a mismatched trio with a mission. Dustin and Mike were no stranger to the knowledge center that was the Hawkins High library but this was new territory for Eddie, exotic and a bit enticing. In awe of the multitude that surrounded him, Eddie couldn’t help whispering worshipfully, “So many words.” “What was that?” Dustin had attacked the card catalog, riffling through the musty striped cards with expert precision.

“Nothing Henderson. Keep looking. If I gotta read this thing, I want to start today.” He was antsy and eager, excited for the new quest he was embarking on and keen to begin this literary campaign. Triumphantly pulling out the appropriate card, Dustin smiled widely, “Here it is!” Crestfall, Eddie’s face dropped, “That’s an index card.” “Yes, but it has the location of the book on it here, see?” Trying to show his older friend how to read the designation assigned to the piece of classical literature they were looking for was pretty pointless. He wasn’t going to search the racks for the book and he could care less about the Dewey Decimal System. “Cool, cool. Yea, so uh, what are you waiting for?” Eddie questioned, his eyebrows disappearing under the roughly cut fringe that framed his face. The question sent Dustin and Mike scurrying into the library’s inner recesses, eager to fulfill Eddie’s crusade. It made him chuckle, the way the young lads tore off, bickering brotherly while doing this errand for him. Looking around, Eddie would admit to a bit of curiosity about this particular library. He’d long enjoyed the town’s book repository; it was where he met so many of his favorite characters. Bilbo and Frodo, Arthur Dent, King Arthur and Merlin, plus a slew of others who showed Eddie a world beyond his own rusted trailer door. Drumming on the card catalog case, on the lookout for his minions, Eddie couldn’t help being distracted by the gaggle of cheerleaders gathered around a copy of People magazine, giggling about Tom Cruise. Their skirts were so short that he couldn’t be blamed for sneaking a peek, even if it didn’t really satisfy. Snorting derisively, he put his back to the scene. It seemed silly to be surrounded by so many stories and waste your time on a brag mag, but hey, to each their own. When he turned back to the row Dustin and Mike had cruised down it was too late. You slammed into him with your shoulder knocking your bag and all its contents all over the floor. “Whoa! Hey! Are you ok?” You heard his knees pop as he dropped down to help you clean up all your things. Embarrassment flooding through you took your ability to answer, so you settled instead on the hasty retrieval of your stuff, raising your eyes to Eddie’s with what you hoped was an imploring look on your face. Jamming everything back into your backpack, you pushed to your feet and left the room as fast as you possibly could, not looking back. “Hey! You forgot your-” but the rest of his statement faded as Eddie watched the library doors shut behind you. Left holding a well worn, well loved notebook, he turned it over, hoping to identify who you were so he could get it back to you. Clearly it was something you used regularly, the corners faded white and fraying, the spiral sticking out of the bottom too far. A mystery- that’s what this run-by library encounter truly was, one Eddie felt compelled to solve. What was your name? Eddie was certain he’d heard it before, maybe even been introduced to you properly, but his mind was drawing a blank. He had definitely seen you around, though. At The Hideout? No, that wasn’t right. But he knew your face, absolutely, and Eddie probably would have stayed there, crouched on the floor holding your missing college ruled notebook, until he solved the puzzle but around that time Mike and Henderson found him looking towards the library’s doors deep in thought. “What are you doing down there?” Leave it to Dustin to question everything. “Just getting a new perspective, Henderson. Did you get the book?” Reaching out a hand, Eddie was helped to standing by Mike who staggered from the effort. “Uh, no.” At least Henderson had the decency to look upset about giving him this news. Still Eddie couldn’t help pressing, “No?” “No. See our library has the entire book in one volume versus the three individual volumes, so-” Nodding now, understanding the root of the problem, Eddie rubbed the back of his neck as he talked to himself, “So, someone else is reading it?” It was Mike’s turn to interrupt. “That’s just it. It’s not checked out but it’s not on the shelf.” His eyes widened at the mystery he’d been present with. He sure as shit hadn’t taken the book, although that was exactly the kind of thing people expected of a guy like him. The boys shifted uneasily on their feet, unsure of what Eddie’s reaction would be, but, not for the first time, he surprised them both. Looking down at the notebook he was holding on to, your notebook which had flown the farthest during your collision, Eddie laughed deep in his chest, “That’s ok.” Dustin and Mike exchanged a worried look as Eddie snapped the notebook you had dropped against his open palm, his eyes on the door you’d bolted through. “But, what about your report?” Grinning now, Eddie flashed his faithful friends a wide, knowing smile, “Don’t worry about that, Henderson. I’ve got a side-quest to take on before we get to the main mission.” “Do you, uh, is there something you want us to do?” Mike was hoping the answer would be no. He had a phone date with his girl out in California planned for tonight and he hated to cancel. “No, Wheeler. This is a solo adventure. I got this one.” On cue the bell which signaled the end of lunch sounded. With appreciative handshakes to both Dustin and Mike, Eddie sent them on their way to class. He lingered in the library, opening your notebook, hopeful of finding your name out your name, at least. You hadn’t done him the favor of neatly printing your contact information on the inside cover, but you had left a clue or two. A receipt, folded at an angle gave the name of Making Tracks Record Shop. Lip pulling up at the corners, Eddie snapped his fingers. That’s it! That’s where he recognized you from! Sure, you weren’t the most outgoing sales clerk working for Keith, but you knew your stuff. In fact, glancing down at the purchase ticket, he was impressed. Iron Maiden, Metallica and Megadeth were all listed among your recent purchases. Hard core. Thumbing through the pages, it dawned on Eddie that what he had mistaken for a random set of Chemistry notes was actually more than that. Pages about characters, scenes, narrative work that went into descriptive details about things as small as the insignia emblazoned on someone’s saddle. It wasn’t just class work that you had left behind.

The second bell rang and Eddie realized he had a decision to make. He could go to class, fuck around, and goof off - or, he could cut and keep reading your story. If he did the latter he’d have the time to make a delivery or two before winding up at the record shop and hopefully running into you again.

When it was clear that no teacher was going to come looking for him, Eddie ducked back into your fictional world excitedly. From the first faintly written sentence, he was hooked. The story of a sad Queen, lonely and abandoned, who had to defend her kingdom while falling in love with foreign King. It had all the elements that got Eddie’s blood pumping: medieval knights, lovely but strong ladies and creatures of all shapes. Eddie got comfortable in one of the impossibly hard wooden seats, shielding himself with leather wrapped elbows on the table. You were a talented wordsmith and Eddie was hungry to learn about the fantastical world you were creating with sentences and commas. In his mind’s eye he could see you, the stoic, silent leader, looking for the perfect paramour and finding only monsters at your door. The King, well, you had outed yourself a bit by drawing Steve “The Hair” Harrington’s name on the once red cardboard cover and tracing a heart around it. He got it, really. The guy was a legend at Hawkins, but Eddie didn’t see what all the hype was about. Anybody could be rich and handsome. Broke and good looking, well that something that Eddie had figured out on his own!

It's just, that didn't seem right- the idea that your queen would settle for someone as boring as King Harrington. In fact, the more he read, the more Eddie saw a huge problem in your pages. There was no comedy, no funny business, no glee.

Where was the sidekick? The character with the great one liners, snarky but satirical, ready to quip the villains to death and banter playfully with the heroes? Who was responsible for breaking all your building dynamic tension? Far too fast, he heard the end of day bell sounding throughout the school, and he was genuinely sad about it. For the first time in years, Eddie Munson had stayed in school the entire day and that was solely because of you and your magical manuscript. Gently shutting the pages, he folded the notebook in half and lovingly tucked in the waistband of his jeans, under his jacket, to protect it. Smiling, he held the door open for some student stragglers, already imagining how happy you would be to see him that night. — It wasn’t until you threw your bag down on the rug of your bedroom floor that you realized what you had done. The filmy plastic wrap that covered the school’s copy of The Lord of the Rings crackled as you pulled it free, digging for your writing notebook. You knew you had it, you always did, it went with you everywhere, just in case inspiration struck.

Having left in such a rush, so embarrassed about smashing into Eddie “The Freak”, you’d cared more about getting out of the way then making sure you had all your things. Pair that with social panic at having to explain yourself to anyone, let alone the tall smart alec with tattoos, checking out the novel hadn’t crossed your mind. And now, well now, you were responsible for keeping it safe until you could return it to the library like a responsible citizen. Hopefully no one would notice it was missing. Gulping guiltily, you quickly tossed on your work uniform: black jeans and an uncomfortably tight electric green polo shirt with the words Making Tracks in thick black letters across your chest. Quite possibly the ugliest thing you had ever been forced to put on your body, you did it for the perks. Cheap music to add to your ever growing collection, first dibs on new releases and easy access to concert tickets when bands came anywhere near Hawkins. Sighing, you ran a hand through your hair in an attempt to tame some of the frizz that flared out around your face. It was no use. The mirror couldn’t lie. You were just you and that would have to do. Honestly, you didn’t care about how you looked at work- metalheads and Cure fans didn’t give one shit what you were wearing as long as you could help them get their hands on the tapes of their favorite groups. The pop princesses, though, they were the worst. Always looking for Madonna or the Top Gun soundtrack happened to be the very same people who cast skeptical glances and made rude comments. But you didn’t need to impress any of them. You just needed a paycheck. “You ready, kiddo?” Mom, trying to sound upbeat called out to you, knowing that you were due at Making Tracks Record shop downtown for your evening shift in twenty minutes. “Yea, just a sec!” During your break you planned to get a jump on your homework, so you hastily piled the needed textbooks into your bag, again noting the lack of your personal notebook. You didn’t really have the time to examine its absence, as the clock was ticking, so you let it go and headed down the stairs to your waiting mother. The hug she gave you was deep and long. Since losing your dad in the StarCourt fire last year, mom had become overly focused on you, “Gosh! Maybe we need to cut back on the sweets, huh? I can barely get my arms around you!” Your skin burned with hurt at the comment but you refused to give it voice. Instead you just agreed flatly, “Whatever you think is best.” It was easier than making her feel bad about making you feel bad and it wasn’t as if she registered your comment anyway. The ride to work was more of the same, mom prattling on and on about some new diet she’d seen on television. Exercise tapes to help tone and shape. Self improvement never hurt anyone, she said. “You’ll never find a man if you don’t have a figure! That’s how I caught your father!” “Mom! Gross! And I don’t want to catch anyone. I want-” Turning the taupe colored wheel sharply, she pulled into the parking spaces at the side of the building where you would spend the next six and a half hours, “You want something out of this world. I know. But honey, even space stations have weight limits.” With that lovely thought to keep you company, you popped open the door, not waiting for her to brake. Dipping into the backseat for your book bag, you thanked her mechanically, “Appreciate the ride mom! Thank you!” If she answered you didn’t hear it. Already tucking your chin to your chest, you made the short walk to the record store doors as fast as you could, not looking anyone in the eye. Skating past the manager, you tossed your stuff into your employee locker and punched in quickly. Throwing your name badge around your neck, you inhaled a deep breath, “Just let the music take you away.” It was your work mantra and it really did help. When you stepped back onto the floor, it was like a different person embodied your physical form. Confident, you knew where each album belonged, where each artist and genre ranked and what bands belonged together on a shelf. If someone asked you a question, the timidity of your daily existence was gone, you had the answers. You were large and in charge here, in this miniature music filled world, and no one could blow your house down. Keith, who you were pretty sure was trying to collect as many local retail name tags as possible, called you to the register as soon as he saw you pop out from the backroom. He was talking with a customer, someone he obviously knew pretty well, about Iron Maiden and when they were expected to come to Indianapolis that year. Kicking your beat up Keds against the bottom of the counter, you interrupted confidently, “They won’t be. They’re on a European tour right now, but I hear ‘87 might bring them back stateside.” With a smirk, Keith popped his chin your way, “Told you Munson. She knows everything.” Turning to face you full on, Eddie tilted his head, taking you in with an appreciative smile, “So she does!” Leaning across the shiny black counter, Eddie motioned for Keith’s ear, whispering, “Listen, Keith, is it cool if I borrow her for a minute?”

“Yea, sure, Munson.” And then Keith allowed himself to get distracted by a telephone call. “Hey, does uh… she get a say in this?” You asked defiantly, your hands finding your ample hips. Unsure of what Eddie might be after, you weren’t about to let Keith agree to anything without your input. Stepping into your space, Eddie’s taller figure leaning over yours, not imposing necessarily, but curious, “Of course she does! It’s just-” hovering now, his lips close enough to your cheek that the smell of weed and cigarettes and Big Red brushed over you, “-I found something that I think belongs to you and I… I want to return it.” His voice had dropped to a rumbling timber that the rational part of your brain knew meant bad news. Your libido though, that unsatisfied bitch, heard it and roared to life. Like a prickling sunburn every word that Eddie murmured ghosted over your skin bringing fresh heat to the surface. Somehow he’d managed to put your back to the register and was closing the narrow distance between you two. If Keith noticed anything funny happening he didn’t say anything, content to slap price tags on the new vinyl shipment that you would undoubtedly be responsible for putting out on the floor later on tonight. Swallowing thickly, you shifted your eyes, indicating the direction you planned to move and Eddie stepped back far enough that you could easily pass by. Trailing behind you, Eddie didn’t want to look at your ass, he really didn’t. But it was so round and full- juicy! That was a word he could use to describe your curvy figure. Every step you took was hypnotizing and Eddie couldn’t stop following the swing of your hips swaying from side to side as you lured him away from the front of the shop. Your thighs, encased in black denim, rubbed together just enough for him to know that he was getting to you. Eddie may not have been book smart according to the education council of Indiana, but he knew things. Oh yea, he knew when to push his advantage and when to hold out. When a girl needed a firm hand or wanted to take the lead. When a lady was into him, that was the easiest of all to identify… And you, little miss, were into him. He had no doubt. Coming to a short stop in front of the recently vacated listening booths, you faced Eddie, biting at the inside of your cheek. It was a nervous habit, and truthfully, this situation made you very very nervous. “You uh, you said you found something of mine?” The question was innocent enough, Eddie reckoned, but the way you looked up at him through your thick lashes was not innocent at all. Wide open doe eyes peered into his own, curious and questioning. Stuttering a bit, Eddie started, “Uh… yea. Yea. I think this-” pulling a folded over notebook from the back of his jeans, proud at bringing it back, “-I think this belongs to you.” Closing your eyes, you sucked in a deep breath as your fingers gripped the worn down cardboard cover littered with doodles and scribbled nonsense. You knew then that you had dumped it in the library that morning and Eddie Munson had collected it for you. Something like shame coursed through you and forced you to ask, “Did you- um, did you-” “Read it? Yea. A bit. It’s-” nervously rubbing the back of his neck, “-it’s really good.” He hadn’t relinquished the notebook yet. Maybe he wasn’t ready to let it go entirely, feeling a bit protective of the story he’d found written out on the college ruled pages. Or maybe he just really enjoyed the way you were looking at him with serious eyes and lips pouting just a tiny bit. You had never let anyone read anything that came out of your warped little mind. The judgment of others, the critiques that would come with allowing someone else access to your little story world filled you with anxiety. Yet, here was Eddie “The Freak” telling you that he liked your work. It was overwhelming. “Good?” Sputtering, you weren’t entirely sure how to respond. He didn’t seem to be kidding either. Covering your hand with his own, Eddie dropped down to your eye level, “Really good. I think your main character, well, she’s a badass, isn’t she?” “Um, well, she wants to be-” “And the King? He uh-” stepping around you now, Eddie tapped on the torn cover where a certain Hawkins High alumni’s name was scrawled in black marker, “-He’s not good enough for her.” Another bloom of humiliation broke open in your belly. The name Steve Harrington emblazoned on your writing notebook wasn’t a clue as to your inspiration so much as a direct reference. Now Eddie knew about that, too. Whipping your head around, needing to defend yourself, you emphatically whispered, “It’s not- um, see, he is just a stand in. A model for-” “You don’t have to justify it to me, sweetheart. King Harrington may be the ideal, but your queen, in my humble opinion, needs something more.” Dry as a desert, your mouth could barely form a reply, “And what’s that?” “A jester.” Side-eyeing Eddie you snorted, “A jester?” “Sure! A person who makes your queen laugh, only wants what’s best for her, and is willing to go out on a limb to make sure she gets it.” Chuckling, you shook your head. It wasn’t an idea that had ever entered into your thinking, but that didn’t mean it was bad feedback. “Eddie, my story is-” “Stuck.” He arrogantly answered for you, leaning away from you in case you decided to swing at him. “Excuse me?” The flash of anger shot through you again. The audacity. The straight frustrating nerve of Eddie Munson to tell you what your story lacked. How dare he? Tapping the notebook where your story unfolded, he added, “You haven’t written anything new in days, maybe weeks. So you’re-” shrugging his denim and leather clad shoulders knowingly, “-stuck.” And he was right, which was the worst part. It had taken Eddie Munson all of five hours to out your writer’s block and then boldly offer a solution to your story’s key problem. Jerking your notebook back, finally reclaiming ownership, you licked over your bottom lip, “Ok, Munson. Let’s say you’re right. Let’s say I have a… plotting problem. What makes you think your answer is the right one?” Stopping long enough to let the chains on his belt still, Eddie surveyed you seriously, “I don’t know if I’d say it’s the right one, doll, but I know my way around uh, let’s call it story management. Every campaign of mine starts out with an ending, a conclusion. The fun part-” he was almost nose to nose with you now, those big brown eyes peering playfully into your own, as he sucked his bottom lip between his teeth, “-is how you get there.” “What, uh, what is my conclusion, Mr. Storyteller?” You didn’t want to sound so weak but your voice was barely a whimper when it should have been a shout. Something about this guy, his energy, just made you soft. “Love. Sex. Romantic nonsense that chicks your age dig. Happy endings with pretty boys like King Harrington.” Ticking them off on his ring clad fingers as if it was a mundane shopping list, you watched with the wicked way his lips curled into a grin, unable to keep yourself from staring. Caging you under his outstretched arm, the heat of his body wrapping around you, you were forced to tilt your chin up in an effort to maintain eye contact. The rough collar of your uniform top parted enough that he could look down your shirt and Eddie hated that he liked looking so much. Your large breasts crammed together under the professionally embroidered polyester, rising and falling with each shallow breath, deserved better in his opinion. Your pillowy lips, parted perfectly, were made to be kissed, and he raised his hand high enough to brush the calloused pad of his thumb across the bottom one, just to see what you’d do. Croaking out a curse, you squeezed your eyes together, “Eddie…” It was an exhaled echo of the word that was swirling around your brain and the only sound you could commit to in the moment. “Yea, sweetheart? You got something you wanna say?” Fluttering open, you stared up at him, undone and overwrought. You opened your mouth, hoping to regain some traction both mentally and physically but were cut short. “Hey! Munson? You’re still here?” Keith, still safe behind the register, called out to the nearly empty space. But Eddie didn’t budge. Still using his arm to support his weight, his dark gaze set on you, he answered, “I sure am! Just be another second with our record store Queen.” And the way he emphasized your title sent a fizzing firework through your belly. “Well, hurry up man. I need some-” lowering his shout to a loud whisper, “-size eight green jeans, ya know?” “Give me a minute, man. I’ll take care of you.” At those last words, Eddie risked touching you again, pushing a thick shock of hair behind your ear so he could see your face. When you nuzzled your cheek into his hand he knew you were a goner. Hell, maybe he was too. “Come out with me tonight. There’s a battle of the bands at The Hideout. You like music as much as it looks like you do, then, you should be there.” If You Go with Eddie to The Hideout, Click Here! If You Don’t Go with Eddie, Continue Here!

Taglist: @thatsonezesty13 @sxlly-pxbble @tisfuihi @theleft0ver @kerri-leighjade @carleighsworld @mediocreaf @weird-stranger13 @cupiden @meh-darkness @sereisstuff @elviqs @hevanleigh @ely-seum @ethereal-day-dreamer @bluedreamsofhoneyrevenge @armyangxls @alana-stewart @peachkiosk @riddlerstoepics @lonely-af-fangirl @darkhairedmenrule @b1tchbabytears @punishers-girl @ravencrap-hufflefuck @sapphic-assassin @roselill-reads @shiggay @boeutiful @york-peppermint-patty @atlwhatevs @probablynotmadonna @mermaidsandcats29 @tarazia @aereth @maymaypes

#eddie munson x plus size reader #eddie munson x reader #eddie smut #eddie fanfic #eddie x reader smut #choose your own adventure #eddie munson smut

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umilily · 5 months

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Since I can't draw for shit, I sadly can't make one of those yearly lookbacks, but there's something else I'd like to put out there as a sort of year-in-review (and to celebrate a little):

Once more – true to my brand – I managed to time things so spectacularly that I’m proud (?) to say that today is actually my one-year anniversary of posting fic. To be fair, I doubt that this will become an international holiday like any other minor ones going on atm, but nevertheless I just wanted to take a moment to write down some thoughts on that (because ah, yes, of course, more rambling from me), even if it’s just for myself to look back on both an occasionally very unusual, weird year.

No pressure to read or digest any of this, I think the only thing I really want to say to anyone who’s bothered reading this far (both this post and the things posted over the last year) is a huge thanks. If you had told me last December that a decision made while under the heavy influence of Ibuprofen and caffeine to combat one of the nastiest colds I ever had, would snowball into a year filled with kind words from strangers and new friends, I would have probably written you off as a fever dream. Oddly enough, it wasn’t, so somehow now I’m here writing this post that already feels too pompous, but that I can’t help wanting to type out regardless.

My own corner of the vast internet unexpectedly became a lot more populated than I’ve ever known it to be. Which feels hilariously ironic when I think about that at the same time, living abroad essentially nuked my social life with friends and family many hours away. But even if I still am very much reclusive – a rare encounter I suppose – and have only talked to very few people who hang around here, I’m still so very grateful for all the kind words from everyone found for me and my writing. Thank you all for keeping me company through me essentially just going “fuck it we ball” continuously.

The last year had some stretches that have been exhausting and rough and I think sticking with something self-indulgent and light-hearted kept me from going nuts at times. I’m not the type to make new years resolutions and when last year I told people that mine was “Doing things poorly”, it likely was the most confusing one they heard so far. For me personally, it was the best one out there, so I will be renewing that and (as proudly as possible) continue to do things poorly in 2024 as well. If people stick around for a laugh or two, I will take it as the highest praise and compliment.

On a more personal front, there is a good chance that I will start working full-time within the next year, so I also just wanted to take this chance for a little heads-up. If I end up disappearing for longer than what you’re used to from me being chronically online, it’s probably because I managed to fool people into hiring me and sadly not because I finally made the smart decision to become a hermit in the woods or retire to the seaside. (Or well, I might end up reacting the exact opposite. Because when have I ever made responsible, adult decisions regarding how to spend my free time? Who needs sleep when you can contemplate the enigmatic, inner machinations of your blorbo’s mind on the topic of coffee or Ikea furniture?) I will do my very best to be as consistent as possible, because even if I do get busy, writing has been something that brought me much more joy than I could have anticipated, and I would like to keep that going.

With that, I think I’m finally done and all that’s left for me to do is saying thanks again and wishing you all a relaxing holiday season and a good start into the new year! <3

#lily talks #pls don't mind me being sappy for a bit #i'll be back to my scheduled silly posting asap

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daffi-990 · 7 months

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Weekend WIP Game

tagged by the kind and talented @jesuisici33 @wikiangela and @lover-of-mine

Rules: List your WIPs below (if you only write one fic at a time, feel free to include future WIPs/ideas!) then answer the following questions. Then, tag as many people as you have WIPs (or more)

1. WIP List:

come close, let me be home (slow dance fic)

Fantasy AU

Rival Firefighters 🚒

2. Which of your WIPs is currently the longest?

Fantasy AU.

3. Which WIP do you expect will end up the longest?

Definitely Fantasy AU

4. Which WIP is your favourite to write/the most enjoyable to write? Why?

Hmmm I’ve enjoyed aspects from all of them tbh. Fantasy au is so self indulgent cos it’s my favourite genre so writing it is something special. Rival Firefighters is flirty and fun and coming up with banter between Buck and Eddie is always a good time. And the slow dance fic is sweet and soft and I enjoy writing these boys already all gooey in love so yeah ☺️

5. Which WIP do you find the most intimidating to write? Why?

The fantasy au for sure! It’s my favourite genre and I really want to be able to bring what’s in my head into actual written words.

6. Which WIP do you experience the most self-doubt about. Why?

Fantasy au haha for the same reasons as above

7. Which of your WIPs will you seek out a beta/sensitivity reader for? Why?

Fantasy au and probably rival firefighters

8. Have any of your WIPs been struck by the curse of writer’s block?

Yes unfortunately 🤪

9. Which WIP has your favourite OC? Tell us about them?

Fantasy AU has one OC so far and he is not a nice character so definitely not a favourite 😅

10. Which WIP is the sexiest?

Rival Firefighters … even though there most likely won’t be any actual smut until much later in the fic, there will be a lot of sexual tension .. I hope 🤞🏻

11. Which WIP is the angstiest?

Probably fantasy au?

12. Which WIP has the best characterisation (in your humble opinion)?

I have no idea tbh 😅

13. Which WIP has the best scene setting (in your humble opinion)?

Gonna have to go with fantasy au cos it’s in a completely made up realm. I’m very nervous about writing all that cos it’s not my strong suit.

14. Which WIP have you worked the hardest on?

Oh geez … umm fantasy au maybe? Like the notes for that … there’s a lot haha

15. Which WIP do you have the highest expectations for? Why?

Fantasy au and rival firefighters

16. Do you dream about any of your WIPs?

yes. The fantasy au fic actually started as a dream

17. Do any of your WIPs have particular complexities that your other fics don’t?

Yes, the fantasy au has magic and stuff

18. Which WIP is the funniest or has the most humour?

I think rival firefighters

19. Do any of your WIPs contain outside POVs or a deep dive on a character other than the main ship? How are you finding that process?

20. Tell us one thing we don’t know about one or more of your WIPs

I’ve actually had the idea for the fantasy au for a few years but the main pairing was going to be Dean & Cas from Supernatural. I kind of fell out of that fandom but the idea stuck with me and the main characters just became two faceless people until Buck and Eddie came along and slotted into place like it had always been meant for them.

No pressure tagging: @thewolvesof1998 @exhuastedpigeon @callmenewbie @callaplums @eddiebabygirldiaz @loserdiaz @hippolotamus @spotsandsocks

#tag game #daffi writes #get to know your fic writer

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wangxianficfinder · 2 years

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In the mood for a Fic

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1. So there's been a few times where I've stumbled upon a fic that I wouldn't have normally read/sought out, and ended up really liking it. For the next itmf, what are some fics like that for the other fair readers of this blog, and why did you like it?

The Teenage Girl's Self-Saving System by mercyandmagic (T, 108k, WLJ/WC, WLJ/NMJ, wangxian, LXC/JGY, JYL/JZX, JC/WQ, OC main character, transmigration, everyone’s least fave characer gets character development!) evadingreallife: ‘i'm not a fan of OCs, modern-to-xianxia, self( or any-) inserts, and ofc wang lingjiao, but the premise of this fic was so crack-ish that i just HAD to check it out, and it was a good one in the end´

Let the streetlights guide you home by tellthemstories (M, 37k, wangxian, modern, UST, car racing, Mojo’s bookmark) flamingwell: ‘aka the illegal street racing AU you never knew you needed BUT YOU NEED IT!! Also one of the most *incredible* podfics I've ever listened to’

Spilled Pearls by nirejseki (T, 88k, LQR/WRH, sect leader nie / WRH, slow burn, angst w/ happy ending) Mod L: ‘Aside from all the WIPs I follow I couldnt decide between these three lol For this first one, it’s somewhat difficult for me to grow interested enough to read a fic on pairings and characters I’m neutral about or not fond of. It was really fascinating to read and I liked the exploration of LQR & WRH’s characters in this one.’

The Cloudweavers《云织之者》 by Joythea (T, 38k, wangxian, Madam Lan & OCs, post-canon, OC pov, fluff & angst) Mod L: ‘OCs can be really hit & miss for me and I don’t usually go for fics with OC povs. I loved to read WX’s love from outside and also about madam Lan.’

Diplomatic Incidents by Ariaste (M, wangxian, Iron Bull/Dorian Pavus, dragon age crossover, getting together, linguistics, fluff, post-canon mdzs) Mod L: ‘I generally prefer MXTX crossovers when reading MXTX works. And outside of those, I prefer similarly themed(?) crossovers. But sometimes you feel like exploring and come across a crossover that you didn’t think would work well at all. The differences and similarities between the main pairings were just really nice :’D’

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2. hello! I know this is a wangxian blog mostly but I was just curious if anyone knows any good xuexiao fics? Not ones with heavy angst or unhappy endings. So many xuexiao fics are far too sad for me and I was hoping someone might know some fics that are happier. I just read Misalignment by Kasasagi and was looking for something kind of similar? In that Xue Yang and Xiao Xingchen have a healthy relationship / talk things through and a happy ending. Could be either Canon or modern era. Also please no songxiaoxue. I like song lan but I just want xuexiao fics. Thank you ~~~

The body's way of saying... by Aoshika_October (T, 2k, WIP, XueXiao, Modern AU, Sickfic, Common Cold, Fever, Caretaking, Cuddling & Snuggling, Literal Sleeping Together, Platonic Cuddling, Pre-Relationship, tags will vary depending on the chapter, Idiots in Love, Friends to Lovers, Fluff, Domestic Fluff, terms of endearment, Self-Indulgent)

3. For the next itmf... are there any fics where wwx doesn't get blamed for everything? Even when people are "on his side" they're calling him stupid and getting mad at him all the time. Yeah he's reckless with his own safety but it's rarely acknowledged that he was literally raised to be that way? And that kind of mentality and upbringing takes a lot to break free from, and yelling at someone for it isnt exactly helpful. And the Lans are always written as being mad at wwx for not realizing lwj was in love with him when there really was no way wwx could have clued into that pre-resurrection? Are there any fics that just... point out how cruel that kind of treatment is? That call people out for ALWAYS blaming wwx even when it's not really his fault?

golden when the day met the night by glitteringmoonlight (Not Rated, 82k, WIP, WangXian, Canon, Slow-ish burn, Sugar Daddy LWJ, Light Angst, Fluff, Developing Relationship, warprize au with a twist, Eventual Smut)

The Young Masters of Four Seasons Manor by gaotamao (G, 91k, WenZhou, WangXian, WOH Crossover, Time Regression, fix-it, WKX raises monstrous sons, Not Jiang Sect Friendly, No Golden Core Transfer) x-over with WoH, but even if you're not familiar with WoH it's worth a read just for the great outsider POV of WWX and LWJ's lives

The Chinese Garden Court by deliciousblizzardshark (T, 5k, WangXian, Modern with Magic, Reincarnation, Immortality, Museums)

The Return Series by LtLJ (G, 63k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Yunmeng Brothers Reconciliation, Angst with a Happy Ending, BAMF WWX, BAMF JC, breaks from canon during the time skip, YL WWX, CQL Canon, BAMF LWJ, BAMF NHS, Hurt/Comfort, WQ Lives)

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4. mdzs prompts/ looking for

idea originated from a fic I hope that you will come and meet me by feyburner

"I will, I'll sleep here every night. Do you understand? If Lan Zhan wants me to, I will. If Lan Zhan wants me in his bed, that's where I am. If Lan Zhan wants me gone, then I'm gone"

idea: what if lan zhan did want wei ying to be gone or disappear? seems impossible but i want it (ʘᗩʘ’) @ner-u

Does anyone even read work titles? idk what to call this by Nighttdust (M, 14k, WangXian, Curses, Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Established Relationship,Post-Canon, Happy Ending, Protective WWX, Insecurity)

the ugly truth by reidviolet (T, 3k, wangxian, modern, heavy angst, breaking up, sad WWX, losing interest, sad ending)

Anginal Equivalents by fakeplasticlily (E, 23k, wangxian, modern, medical residents au, childhood friends, pining, oblivious WWX, sexual content)

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5. For the next In The Mood For post I'd really like to see… anyone's favorite fics with Wei Wuxian in peril! Of course he's very capable and powerful, but everybody needs help sometimes. Would like to see WWX in danger and have someone ride to his rescue -- Lan Wangji is a fav of course, but even better would be Wen Ning, or Jiang Cheng or the juniors, or anyone else who cares about Wei Wuxian. @mikkeneko

Story-Shaped by lingering_song (T, 13k, WangXian, NHS & WWX, Post-Canon, Chief Cultivator LWJ, Inventor WWX, Found Family, Mentioned Character Death, Alcohol, Protective NHS, WangXian Endgame, Not JC Friendly, Not particularly gentry sects friendly overall tbh) NHS does the rescuing in his own way

some good mistakes by Lise (T, 18k, WangXian, JC & WWX, Post-Canon, Road trips, rescue Missions, Hurt/Comfort, Awkward Conversations, Yunmeng Bros Reconciliation, [Podfic] some good mistakes by kisahawklin ) WWX goes missing, Jiang Cheng and LWJ team up to find him. The focus is on all the Emotions that team up brings up, but very much does include a dramatic rescue scene

In The Dark Right Now by phnelt (T, 10k, WangXian, JC & LWJ, JC & WWX, graphic depictions of injuries, trapped in a cave, Near Death Experience, fatalistic thinking, established wangxian, Family Feels, Nobody dies in this fic, Modern AU, Hurt/Comfort) the one where wy and jc are trapped in a cave in- lz on the radio

just as the stories say by TheDameJudiWench (T, 11k, WangXian, JC & WWX, Hurt/Comfort, Post-Canon, Medical Procedures, some gore, Yunmeng brothers feelings, Family Dynamics, Attempted Murder, Injury Recovery, Self-Harm, Suicidal Thoughts, Established Relationship, Happy Ending, Found Family, POV Outsider, Revenge, Grief/Mourning, Forgiveness, Whump, Near Death Experiences) the one where a young girl tries to murder the yiling laozu and almost succeeds

See Me, Feel Me (Listening to You) by Ghost_Honey (T, 29k, WangXian, Junior Quartet, POV WWX, WWX Needs a Hug, WWX's Abyssmal Self-Esteem, Emotional Healing, Angst, Curses, WWX is an Unreliable Narrator, Yunmeng Bros Reconciliation, The Angst is Mainly Emotional, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Platonic Cuddling) the one where wy is cursed so he can’t see or feel anyone who feels strongly about him and assumes this means that the people he cares about actually hate him

Something at the Door by Pip (Moirail) (E, 50k, WangXian, Modern with Magic, Modern Cultivation, background 3zun, Background Yi City trio, Intrusive Thoughts, Horror, Suicidal Thoughts, Temporary Character Death, Blood, Explicit Sexual Content, Mutual Pining, Angst with a Happy Ending, Mystery, Urban Fantasy) wwx has a horror-flavored bad time - mostly lwj helping, with a dash of jc for spice

medium blues by darkterrible (E, 193k, WangXian, Horror, Spooky, Opposites Attract, Fluff and Angst, Gore, Ghosts, Necromancy) WWX requires rescuing on a frequent basis

Inkstone by PorcelainBlue (T, 7k, WangXian) an AU that begins with the Twin Jades and some juniors coming to the rescue of Artist! WWX

heroic aftermath by Last_For_Hell (T, 5k, WangXian, Aftermath of Violence, Hurt/Comfort, Hurt WWX, Guilt, References to WWX’s Cynophobia, Implied Sexual Content) the Juniors are caring for a critically-injured WWX (he got mauled by a pack of dog yao!), feeding him spiritual energy in relays until LWJ arrives.)

The Losses and Gains Remain Uncommented On by caesteves (Not Rated, 7k, WangXian, WWX & LXC, Married Couple, Post-Canon, Angst with a Happy Ending, Hurt WWX, Worried LWJ, Case Fic, (sort of), Alcohol, Hurt/Comfort)

Don't Hold Too Much in Your Heart by caesteves (Not Rated, 13k, WangXian, LSZ & WWX, Post-Canon, Angst with a Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, Hurt WWX, Worried LWJ, Fluff, Accidents, Concussions)

transitory by lao_you_tiao (E, 5k, WangXian, Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Date Rape Drug/Roofies, Post-Canon, Porn with Feelings) LWJ rescues a drunken and roofied WWX from a would-be rapist

Cotton Wool ch 5 and Hubris by incendir, the same story from LWJ’s and WWX’s POV respectively, both by incendir; LWJ comes to rescue WWX from an attempted rape by prior harassers. (WWX has been doing a devastating job of self-defense, but is injured, dissociating, and in need of talking down and comforting.)

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6. hi! this blog is such an amazing resource for people like me (bad at using ao3) and thank you guys for the work you do!! sorry if this has been answered, but do you know of any fics that are about a-qing? not as a background or side character but as the/a focus of the fic. brave and clever a-qing :,(

The sparrow's curious song by Mhalachai (T, 13k, NHS & A-Qing, adoption, A-Qing gets happy ending, NHS’ revenge plotting) NHS, intrigued by the clever street rat who picked his pocket, recruits AQ as a disciple

stare at the sun by chomrafy (Not rated, 2k, A-Qing & QS, A-Qing & JRS, canon divergence, fluff, light angst, family feels, everyone lives au, or at least A-Q & QS live) AQ is taken in as a babysitter by QS, who has run away with JRS to live incognito in Yi City

despite it all by novalotypo (T, 292k, wangxian, canon divergence, god of luck WWX, memory loss, non-linear narrative, WIP) WWX, ascended as a God of Luck, takes AQ as his First Disciple

walk with me (I think we'll find a way) by bringsnofear (T, 9k, SL/XXC, AQ & SL, AQ & XXC, hurt/comfort, mute SL, XXC lives, blind XXC, AQ lives, reunions, yi city fix-it) with A-Qing as the main character

Covered By Frost and Snow by Siamesa (T, 44k, wangxian, canon divergence, outsider POV, canon-typical violence, grief/mourning, disabled character, angst & humor, male-female friendship, families of choice, not everyone dies au, major character injury, rabbits, female friendship, WIP)

someone will remember us by captain_apostrophe, MonocerosRex (M, 39k, ChengQing, MingQing, Fluff, yunmeng siblings, Family Feels, Attempted Rape/Non-Con, he gets thoroughly trounced dw, Lan Yi did nothing wrong, mianmian is a rare Functional Bisexual, Canon Schmanon, previous generation, Blood, Violence, Guns, Cowboys, jgs gets what he deserves, MDZS Women Appreciation Weeks) a would-be rapist learns not to fuck with poor defenseless little blind girls.

Fractured - yet unbroken by ThetenthtenbeingofTen (G, <1k, OYZZ/OFC, wangxian, post-canon, yi-city, OYZZ getting married, reincarnation) AQ is reborn to OYZZ and his OC wife as twin girls, one blind and one mute (her soul having been fragmented); they become personal disciples to LWJ and WWX.

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7. mdzs prompts/ looking for

lwj and wwx having secret relationship (cloud recess study age?? or maybe older, anything is fine) and wwx died or got into a comma. their relationship only got known after wwx died/comatose @ner-u

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8. Hi!!! Thanks for everything yall do for us 1st off. Secondly, for the next itmf do yall know of any fics where one part of a couple and 1 half is reincarnated in modern times? I love this kind of fic and have only read a couple (throughline by lunatea and all old things are new again by the feels whale come to mind) especially the intensity of when the reincarnated person gets all their memories back! @curlytopped

the recluse at the end of the moonlit path by b_ofdale (T, 29k, wangxian, modern, reincarnation au, post-canon, immortal LWJ, jack of all trades artist WWX, pining, light angst, reunions, hurt/comfort, implied sexual content, asexual character, good vibes, Mojo’s post)

🧡 The World We Made by updatebug (T, 80k, WangXian, The Old Guard fusion, Immortals, Immortal LWJ, Angst with a Happy Ending, Reincarnation, Modern AU, The Old Guard AU, Temporary Character Death)

I will wait by shadowchan93 (T, <1k, wangxian, major character death, post-canon, immortal LWJ, bittersweet, angst, grief, sadness, not super sad ending but not a happy one either)

Yiling Poltergeist by jaemyun (G, 16k, WangXian, Modern AU, Mention of canon history, Ghost! Wwx, Past Lives, Reincarnation, Humor, Fluff)

Thirty-three Lashes by Winglesss (E, 56k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Modern with Magic, Immortality, Reincarnation, Case Fic, Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Nightmares, Ghosts, Curses, Mutual Pining, Slow Burn, Major Character Injury, Eventual Fluff, Eventual Smut, Explicit Sexual Content, Memory Loss)

🧡We Were Never Strangers by NeverEnoughWangxian (M, 36k, WangXian, Reincarnation, Modern AU, POV WWX, (mostly), College Student WWX, Rogue Cultivator WWX, Immortal LWJ, Immortal LSZ, Dreams, Pining, Sharing a Bed, Getting Together, Happy Ending, Sexual Tension, Sexual Content)

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9. Hello Lovely Mods! Thank you so much for all you do. I was wondering for the next I'm In The Mood For - if you could suggest any fics where voice cultivation is explored/used. I read a fic where Jingyi learned it, but I'd be happy with anyone. It was such a cool premise that I find myself wanting more. Thanks in advance 😁 @ommited-miscellaneously

Tumblr comic by @lee-luca may have originated the idea of LJY studying vocal cultivation.

Please Take This Radish by Wildcard (M, 7k, WIP, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Bad Parenting, not abusive parenting, Angst with a Happy Ending, Comedy, Accidental Baby Acquisition, Dysfunctional Family, demonic radishes, Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, For Want of a Nail, Temporary Character Death, Mistaken Identity, musical cultivation) has Xue Yang following Wen Ning home to the burial mounds, where he becomes wwx's 'disciple' (or the teen gets forcibly adopted by the entire village) and learns voice cultivation from wwx. really REALLY good wip au of burial mound days/first siege of burial mounds

Running up that hill by Lhaewiel (M, 9k, WangXian, XuanLi, ChengQing, Canon Divergence, Angst, Drama, Tumblr Link) sorry to answer a Mood request with a Fic Finder request, but I seem to recall a Tumblr fic (illustrated with photos taken from other of the actors’ roles) in which all three Yunmeng Jiang Siblings were musical demonic cultivators: WWX of course played the dizi, JYL played the pipa, and JC sang.

These bright and violent delights by worrystone (G, 15k, XiCheng, ZhanCheng, ChengXian, ChengYao, ChengJue, JC/Everyone, Demonic Cultivator JC, Role Reversal, what if jc had fallen off the cliff instead?, Angst, Ambiguous/Open Ending, read warnings girlies don't say i didn't warn you) role reversal; Yiling Laozu! JC uses vocal musical demonic cultivation

Mending the Pieces by JustAWanderingBabbit (G, 98k, 3zun, post-canon, reincarnation) the Jin Rusong of JustAWanderingBabbit’s stories is a vocal musical cultivator, notably in third-generation fic Mending the Pieces

Different Paths to the Same Route by JustAWanderingBabbit (T, 184k, WangXian, 3Zun, Canon Divergence, What-If, Implied Necrophilia, At least they're talking now, Medicical science in a cultivational world, Magical Genetic Testing, Family Issues) chapter 23 has him being tutored by Lan Jingyi (who thus gets to be a cool Shixiong.)

Gift by Befallings (G, 403, WWX & LXC, Bunnies as a cure to Sadness, Seclusion is Stupid, Light Angst, Angst and Feels, Family Bonding) WWX proposes vocal cultivation to LXC (during Bunny Therapy) as a musical path for LJY

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10. Y’all I read a threadfic and now I’ve got a craving. I’m in the mood for stories where the Lan brothers aren’t on good terms. Specifically after Wei Wuxian’s death and the ensuing 16 years, but I’ll take whatever I can get. I just want some Lan family angst 🥰

恩仇仙人- Enchou xianren (Immortal Avenger) by AshayaTReldai (E, 133k, WIP, WangXian, Angst, Mental Anguish, Pining, Revenge, Execution, internalinter-clan politics, Reincarnation, TGCF notions of ascension and deity, WWX/LWJ marriage, First Time, Post-LWJ whipping, Injury Recovery, Issues of justice, Torture, Not friendly to the Clans - they all get their comeuppance, Hurt/Comfort, Dark LWJ, novel compliant characterisation)

kick at the darkness 'til it bleeds daylight by AlfAlfAlfAlfAlf, tardigradeschool (T, 75k, WangXian, Hurt/Comfort, Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Eventual Happy Ending, Getting Together, Burial Mounds Settlement Days, Inspired by The Parent Trap (1998), Kid Fic, teen shenanigans, two a-yuans, Angst, Fluff) is not the main focus but I really liked the Lan brothers relationship in kick at the darkness 'til it bleeds daylight

Bitter Recompense by mondengel (M, 1k, LXC & LWJ, Angst)

to arrive late is better than not to arrive at all by Moominmammashandbag (M, 34k, WangXian, Angst with a Happy Ending, Soulmates, Chronic Illness, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Hanahaki Disease, but as a curse, Feelings Realization, obsession with interior design, Fluff and Smut, Family Angst, sibling angst, Wedding, Motion Sickness, sect politics, Marriage Proposal)

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11. Hi!! Lately I've read one fic with JC and LXC being a couple and I liked it! So for the next "I'm in a mood for" I'd like recommendations of fic with JC and LXC falling in love, arranging marriage, etc. With Wangxian too, please. I don't mind witch couple is the main one, but I'd love to read fics with this two couples. Happy Endings please! Thank you!! 😊 (If you can find fics that happens when JC and Wangxian were teenagers it'd be awesome!)

Even the Sunlight Pierces to the Bone by OrdinaryRealities (T, 16k, JC/LXC, 2nd in series, post-canon, 5+1, cooking as a form of friendship, relationship based on friendship, working through trauma together, good uncle JC, communication, listening, JGY was a friend and a villain)

smells like teen spirit by TheWanderingHeart (G, 6k, JC/LXC, JC & WWX, ABO, cloud recesses study era, fluff & humor, courtship, omega JC, alpha LXC, puberty, scents & smells)

Utterly Inevitable by sami (M, 20k, XiCheng, WangXian, Family, Angst with a Happy Ending, Depression, Self-Worth Issues, References to Canonical Character Death, Recovery, Character Study, Established Relationship, Getting Together, Marriage, Yunmeng Shuangjie Reconciliation, Post-Canon)

And Time Is But a Paper Moon by sami (M, 138k, WangXian, XiChengQing, Time Travel, Fix-It, Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Healing, Mental Health Issues, PTSD, Hurt/Comfort, Depression, BAMF WWX, BAMF JC, BAMF LWJ, BAMF JYL, Getting Together) If you don’t mind poly I rec this one.

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12. hello lovely mods, does anyone know if this has this been done for wangxian as a crossover? bc idk about y'all but this screams wangxian vibes to me. just imagine! lwj as the cleric and wwx as the disguised mxy on the run bc of fear of rejection just does it for me lol (bonus points if lwj actually was the cleric who did the reviving but wwx doesn't know that) @xiaokuer-schmetterling

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13. HI Mods! Do you happen to know of any story where at some point, JC gets all pissed at JGY bc he's trying to turn Yunmeng Jiang into Yunmeng "Meng"?

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14. Hello! for ITMF, are there any fics where wwx dies before/during the sunshot campaign? thank you in advance!

You still sound like a song by Moominmammashandbag (M, 64k, WIP, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Ghost!WWX, Mystery, LWJ plays inquiry, AU from after the Wens came to Lotus Pier, Most people lived, not everybody died, Angst with a Happy Ending, river spirit!WWX, Angst and Feels, description of murder, imminent smut, Execution, Dogs, Poisons, Discussion of Attempted Murder, BAMF WWX, Family Feels) He dies when the Wens attack Lotus Pier

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15. Hello there!I am in the mood for angsty fic like:

Novel canon, post whip punishment, injured LWJ is able to meet WWX prior the first siege, yet the siege still happen and LWJ witness WWX’s death as in novel version. (NOT falling from a cliff as in CQL)

I am relying on you! Thank you in advance! @yellowridge

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16. Hi. I'm not sure if you're still taking these but I'm in a mood for wangxian fic where wwx is madly in love with lwj but thinks his love is unrequited as lwj always looks conflicted when he has to interact with wwx. What he doesn't know is that lwj is equally in love with him if not more and is just a dork who's bad at emotions.

All at Once It's You by tiptoe39 (E, 28k, wangxian, accidental bonding, love curse, no plot happens au, wens are not evil, gusu lan summer school, internalized homophobia)

💖 Pentimento. by orange_crushed (E, 73k, wangxian, modern, college/university au, art conservation, museums, pining, not actually unrequited love, angst w/ happy ending, misunderstandings, smut, major character injury, hospitalization, hurt/comfort, past incarceration, forgery)

the earthquake in the room by phnelt (E, 39k, WangXian, Modern AU, College AU, Canada, Getting Together, Mentions of lwj/others background NieLan, background WQ/MM, inter-faculty romance, Strangers to lovers to frenemies to lovers)

Fervid as a Flame by snowkatze (T, 5k, wangxian, modern, getting together, first kiss, pining, insecurity, misunderstandings, not actually unrequited love, angst w/ happy ending)

Anginal Equivalents by fakeplasticlily (E, 23k, wangxian, modern, medical residents au, childhood friends, pining, oblivious WWX, sexual content) (link in #4)

Straight at the Sun by diamondbruise (E, 33k, WangXian, Canon Universe, no war though, Mutual Pining, Pining while fucking, Misunderstandings, First Time, Anal Sex, wwx desperately wants lwj’s attention, lwj desperately wants to marry wwx, Miscommunication, Jealousy, in abundance, Happy Ending) kinda

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17. Hi! Thank you so much for this blog and all your hard work! For your next iitmf, do you know any fics where JC deals with drug taking/addiction/getting clean? I don't mind where the fic is set, just no JC bashing! Thank you!

the long way back home by Misila (E, 210k, WIP, WangXian Yunmeng Siblings, Family, Romance, Heavy Angst, Hopeful Ending, JC-centric, Dysfunctional Family, Abuse, Mental Health Issues, Suicide Themes, Recovery, Additional Warnings In Author’s Note) i think it is implied in this one, my memory is kinda bad though😅

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If you didn’t get an answer to your ask here, don’t forget to make use of @mdzs-kinkmeme and MDZS KINK MEME on Dreamwidth. Authors actually do use them for ideas. You may get what you order!***Your prompt doesn’t have to be kink! Fluff, crack, whatever - it’s all good!***

#mdzs #the untamed #wangxian #wangxianficfinder #wangxian fic recs #i'm in the mood for a fic #wangxian fic search #long post

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