#Round Threading Dies

[em1i2a3]

Send The Pain Below

Pairing: Bob/Robert Reynolds/The Sentry/The Void x Thunderbolts!Fem!Reader

Summary: After you return from a mission severely injured, Bob can’t help but offer you as much help as possible.

Warnings: Semi-Spoilers for Thunderbolts cause Bob. Hurt/Comfort, Fluff (kind of?), Mentions of Injuries/Blood

Author’s Note: Hey y’all! I had this on my WIP list and wanted to get it out, this wasn’t a request I just randomly wrote this and literally didn’t have a clue on how to end it to be quite honest lol. But I didn’t want it clogging up my drafts, and the idea was good in theory.

Word Count: 4,859

The elevator doors of the compound slid open with a quiet hiss, and you stepped out like your body might give out if you stopped moving for even a second.

Your boots landed heavy on the tile, your limp was masked only by sheer willpower and the remaining adrenaline you had running through your veins. Every step sent a bolt of pain up your legs, through your hips, lancing into your ribs and shoulders like tiny barbed wires that threaded themselves deeper with each shift. You didn’t stop to breathe–because it felt like if you tried to, your ribs were going to break.

Throughout the entire ride up to your living quarters, you hadn’t been still for a moment. You paced the tight space of the elevator like a caged animal–shaking, twitching, trying to outrun the memory of the fight. The metal walls had felt too close, too quiet, too loud with your thoughts.

Now, in the open hallway, your ears were still ringing. All you could smell was blood and dirt–iron and ash clinging to your skin like a second, suffocating layer. You didn’t know if it was your blood or someone else’s. You didn’t want to try and figure that out though.

“Hey, I called medical, they’re waiting for you.” Bucky’s voice echoed from the living room. He knew you were coming. He had been communicating with you through your comms the entire mission, and he had gotten a call from the extraction team who gave him a heads up on the damage you had taken.

”I’m fine.” You muttered back. Your steps were stiff, bordering on robotic. Blood had soaked through the fabric at your waist and dried in large dark patches. You were grateful you wore black tactical gear, because if you didn’t it probably would’ve looked like you worked at a butcher shop. One sleeve was ripped open, revealing a long, nasty cut that ran from your bicep to your elbow, and your back felt like it had been slammed through a concrete wall–and it actually had, or at least maybe in your haze you had convinced yourself that happened.

It was your first solo mission. A simple infiltration, Valentina had said. The mission description screamed that it was going to be quick and easy, you had planned it out so much, and you did everything right.

But it hadn’t been enough.

You rounded the corner into the living room, and all the conversations and commotion died instantly.

“Holy shit, Y/N.” Yelena said under her breath, getting up from the couch. You continued to drag yourself towards the washroom, ignoring the comment.

”Y/N, you’re not fine kid, come on–let’s not try to act tough right now. You need to go see medical.” Walker added, following suit with Yelena. You didn’t slow your steps, nor did you look back, because you knew if you stopped now you’d be glued to the floor, and you wouldn’t be able to keep moving.

You could feel the weight of their stares burning into your back as you made your way towards the washroom with one hand trailing the edge of the wall to stabilize yourself. Your vision was swimming–edges soft, depth distorted–but you knew this floor, this hallway, this layout, and thankfully you could walk it blind if your sight gave out.

“Y/N you’re literally leaving a trail of blood across the floor, this isn’t a walk it off type of situation here.” Ava commented, joining in on the pestering, her voice sharp and worried. Yet you still didn’t answer them, you just kept moving.

”Is she even hearing us?” Walker asked, his voice dropping an octave, then a door in the hallway opened and Alexei poked his head out of his bedroom, disheveled and confused from the commotion that was happening, tying his robe around his beefy upper body. He rubbed the sleep out of his eyes, and right when he saw you there was an immediate look of concern that appeared on his face.

“Dorogaya,” He called gently, his brows pinching “You walk like dead woman.” You clenched your jaw hard enough at his words that it made your teeth ache.

“Let someone help, yes?” He added, his voice softer now, as if his words might land easier that way, “You don’t get glory for dying on your feet.” You felt your fingers curl slightly against the wall, but you didn’t trust your voice enough to respond–not with the heat gathering behind your eyes, not with the pain that was spiking again through your spine.

”She’s not listening to anyone,” Ava muttered behind you, voice tight. You didn’t hear the rest of what they said.

The voices behind you melted into background noise–blurred and echoing like they were underwater. You just kept moving. One foot in front of the other. Focused on the hall ahead, on the door you shared with Bob at the end of it. Your hand skimmed the wall, dragging along the paint like it was the only thing anchoring you upright.

The blood trail you left behind was uneven, smeared where your boot dragged slightly on the right side. You didn’t even feel the cuts anymore–not sharply, anyway. Just a dull throb beneath the surface of everything, like your whole body had been submerged in concrete and it was slowly starting to harden around you.

When you finally reached the door, you shouldered it open, and stumbled into the washroom. The light was too bright. The silence–too still.

You stood there for a second, just swaying feeling a wave of dizziness come over you. Then you slammed the door shut, and locked it, enclosing yourself in the small space you and Bob inhabited together.

Then it was just you.

You, and the sound of your breath–shallow, rattling, uneven, and crackling–shaking in your chest like it was a broken metronome. Now that you were alone you could also hear the light above you buzzing faintly, even though there was still a bit of bickering happening outside the door.

You moved stiffly to the switch for the fan and turned it on, letting the low hum kick in above your head. It vibrated in the walls, just enough to mute the sound of your breathing. Then you shuffled over to the shower, reaching in to turn on the hot water in one swift movement, hissing when your shoulder screamed out in pain. The pipes groaned slightly before water burst from the head, pounding into the tile like a rainstorm. Hot. Loud. And endless. Steam immediately began to fill the space, and that’s exactly what you needed–warmth, something to ease the pain that was about to come in full force.

All you wanted right now was solitude. You wanted to lick your wounds like an animal crawling into the shadows–quiet and wild and unwilling to be witnessed. You needed to hurt where no one could see it. Needed to unravel in private, where the grief could live without apology, and the shame could breathe.

You turned back toward the center of the washroom, your vision still swimming, limbs trembling slightly from the effort it had taken just to reach this far. The steam was already clouding the mirror, mercifully dulling the image of yourself–like even your reflection was sparing you the full truth of what you’d become.

You didn’t want to see it. Not clearly. Not yet.

Your fingers fumbled with the front of your vest, the fabric stiff and heavy with blood. It took two tries to get the buckle unclipped–your fingers were sticky and slippery, or maybe they were just numb–and when the strap finally gave, the release jolted your injured shoulder hard enough that your breath hitched through clenched teeth.

You pressed your lips together, hard, swallowing the sound before it could escape.

The velcro at your chest peeled back with a slow, wet rip, and the vest shifted. The weight of it–soaked through, dense and clinging–pulled down at your frame like it wanted to take you with it to the floor.

You reached up to shrug it off, and a bolt of pain exploded across your ribs. Your body locked up immediately, breath freezing in your lungs. For a moment, your knees threatened to buckle completely.

You caught yourself on the sink, gasping.

Your palm left a smear of blood against the porcelain.

Tears burned behind your eyes–not from sadness. From sheer, helpless agony.

Still, you didn’t cry. Not yet.

You stayed hunched over the sink, chest heaving, shoulders trembling with the effort it took just to stay upright. The pain was beginning to spike higher with each passing second–as if your body, now freed from the armor, had decided it was safe to let you feel everything all at once.

Your eyes flicked to the mirror again, just briefly. Your reflection was almost gone now, consumed by steam. Just a shape. Just a shadow of what was left of you.

You reached out blindly for the medicine cabinet.

The metal clinked as you opened it, and your fingers searched through the shelves with shaky, clumsy movements until they found the bottle. White cap. Red label. Tylenol.

It was something and it was all you had.

You unscrewed the lid with fingers that barely cooperated, spilling two pills into your hand. You didn’t have the strength to care about how many milligrams it was or if you’d already taken some earlier–which for the record, you didn’t. All you knew was that the pain had to come down–just a little–before you could finish what needed to be done.

You popped the pills into your mouth and chewed.

Bitter.

Chalky.

The taste coated your tongue like poison. It hit the back of your throat like ash.

You reached down, turned the faucet on with your uninjured hand, and leaned in to catch a handful of lukewarm water. You brought it to your mouth quickly, sloshed it back, swallowed hard.

The pills scraped down your throat like gravel.

You stayed there for a moment, hunched over the sink, your hands braced on either side. The water kept running. The fan kept humming. The shower roared behind you, thick steam curling around your legs, climbing your spine.

You wanted to rest. Just for a second, but you knew you couldn’t.

Not while you were still covered in blood. Not while your pants were still clinging to your thigh like a bandage made of fabric and failure.

You let the water run. You didn’t have the energy to turn it off.

Your fingers drifted down toward your utility belt next. You unclipped it slowly, fumbling with the strap at your hip until it loosened and slid free. The belt thudded heavily to the floor, landing beside the vest. It sounded final. Like a chapter closing.

Then came your pants.

You didn’t want to look.

You already knew what was underneath–your thigh had been burning since the moment you’d hit the floor in that alley. Your hip had felt wet and wrong the second the rebar tore your side open.

Still, you slid your thumbs into the waistband and began to shimmy them down—inch by inch. Pain flared instantly.

The cut across your thigh had stuck to the inside lining. As the fabric peeled away, it reopened with a slick, wet sound and a wave of heat that flooded your vision with white.

You gasped again, one hand grabbing the counter to stay upright. Your breath broke mid-exhale, and the sound you made was something just shy of a sob.

Blood rolled down the side of your thigh in a thin, fresh ribbon.

You stood there half-undressed and trembling, your legs streaked with red, your body steaming in the mirror’s haze, and your throat thick with everything you were still trying to hold back.

————————

Outside in the hallway, the team hovered like ghosts–uncertain whether to press in or give space, tense with the kind of helpless energy that made people argue just to feel useful.

Walker had his ear against the wall, arms crossed, one brow furrowed as he strained to hear through the sound of the water. “I think I heard her,” he muttered. “She made a sound…Not good.”

“I told you she should’ve gone straight to medical,” Ava said under her breath, pacing a slow, tight line across the hall. “We should just go in there.”

“No,” Yelena cut in, her voice quieter but far more final. “She locked the door. Let her have a minute.”

“You saw her,” Walker snapped. “She doesn’t have a minute, are we gonna break down the door if she passes out?!”

”No, I’ll just phase through and unlock the door you idiot.” Ava shot back, and before Walker could rebuttal, Bob’s door creaked open, causing everyone to turn their heads to look at him.

He stood in the frame like he hadn’t even realized they were all there. He was barefoot, dressed in a baggy dark grey scrub set, similar to the ones they found him in when they met him in the O.X.E Vault–when he had admitted he found them comfortable you had gone out and bought him a few pairs. His light brown hair was tousled, and extremely flat on one side like he had just peeled himself off his mattress. He looked like he had just rubbed out a decade of sleep from his eyes as he stretched.

”…W-What’s going on?” He asked, his voice slow and sleep-warm, like it hadn’t yet left the fog of dreams. He blink slowly, shoulders hunching forward slightly under the baggy scrub top. Walker turned to him first, running a hand down his face, exasperation cooling into something just a little more worried.

”Y/N is in the washroom,” Bob’s brows drew together in confusion, almost as if he was urging him to go on, “She came back from a mission looking like absolute hell–like barely walking and bleeding everywhere. She locked the door and hasn’t said anything to us since.” Yelena crossed her arms.

“She won’t let any of us in either…” Bucky said, as everyone began to exchange glances at one another, “But how about you give it a try?” Bob’s arms hung stiff at his sides, fingers curling and uncurling against the fabric of his scrub top, like his body was trying to move before his mind could catch up.

“…M-Me?” He asked, voice quiet–half-hoarse with sleep, half-tight with something else he hadn’t figured out how to name. His eyes flicked toward the washroom door, then back to the group, unsure. “W-Why me?”

Yelena was the one who answered. Calm. Certain. No hesitation.

“Because you’re her friend. And she trusts you.”

Bob’s shoulders twitched at the word–friend–like it didn’t feel big enough to carry the weight of what you were to him. It didn’t feel small either. Just…Not right. Not complete. Not everything.

“She listens to you…She likes being around you and she trusts you…” Bob looked down, jaw shifting slightly. His hands came up, one running across the back of his neck, the other tugging anxiously at the loose sleeve of his shirt. He could feel the familiar burn start to gather low in his chest–the one that always came with too many emotions pressing up at once, begging for escape.

He wasn’t good with being needed. He wasn’t used to being the person someone called for when everything fell apart.

But you’d never made him feel like a burden.

Not once.

Even when he couldn’t meet your eyes. Even when his hands shook too hard to pour water. Even when he curled up on the floor and told you he wasn’t sure if he was real. You stayed. You held his face in your hands and called him Bob in a voice that made it sound like that name had never belonged to anyone else. You were his calm…And now he needed to try and return the favour.

He swallowed hard.

“Okay,” He whispered,“I’ll try…Just…B-Back away for a second okay, or g-go down the hall.” The team scattered almost immediately, as Bob took one shaky breath and padded forward, every step louder in his ears than it should’ve been. He cleared his throat and knocked gently on the door.

”Hey…Y/N…I-It’s me,” He said, barely louder than the sound of the fan humming on the other side of the barrier between them. He pressed his hand flat to the wood, almost like he would be able to feel you through it, “I–I know you probably don’t want to s-see anyone right now…I get it, I–I do…But…” He faltered for a moment, glancing down the hall seeing the rest of the team watching him.

”B-But can I come in? Please?” There was a pause. A long one, but he didn’t move, he waited until there was a sign to either go, or come in.

And then–the lock turned.

His heart thudded, heavy and thick against his ribs, a soft sigh escaping his lips.

He pushed the door open slowly, the rush of steam hitting him in a wave. It curled around his ankles, ghosted against his chest, and painted the room in a blur of heat and wet air. The mirror was almost completely fogged, and the fan overhead did nothing to stop the fog from swallowing the space whole.

And then he saw you.

You were standing by the sink, half-turned, wearing only your sports bra and underwear. Blood was smeared down your leg in stark red streaks, tracing the lines of torn muscle and raw, reopened skin. Your shoulder was mottled purple and yellow, your arm wrapped around your ribs protectively like the pressure might keep something from falling apart.

Your face turned toward him when he entered. Slowly.

And even though you weren’t crying, not exactly, your eyes were glassy–rimmed with something bitter and deep, something that looked a hell of a lot like defeat.

“J-Jesus,” Bob whispered, the breath barely making it past his throat.

His stomach dropped. His hands clenched uselessly at his sides, eyes scanning every part of you like he didn’t know where to look first.

Your cheek had a shallow cut beneath the eye, already beginning to swell. Your lip was split. There was dirt caked under your nails, your hair was stuck to your neck with sweat and blood, and your expression–when your eyes finally locked on his–was exhausted in a way he’d never seen on you before.

You looked like you had fought through the end of the world and barely made it out breathing.

“Y/N…” He breathed, and for a second he couldn’t move. Couldn’t talk. Couldn’t function. His throat tightened so sharply it almost made him cough. You shook your head slowly–once, twice–like each motion cost you something.

Bob flinched.

Not because you scared him, but because you looked like you were unraveling and still trying to hold it all in place. Because even just shaking your head seemed to hurt. Because you’d finally let someone in, and he didn’t know if he could be the person you needed, but God, he wanted to be.

He shut the door behind him gently, a soft click that sealed the two of you into that steam-filled quiet, then turned the lock. The air was thick, and his scrubs were already starting to cling to his chest, but he didn’t care.

His eyes were still moving over you–your thigh, your ribs, your face–and something in his jaw worked like he was trying not to cry for you.

“I–” He started, then stopped, trying again a second later “I know you don’t wanna hear it, but…M–Maybe we should go to medical, just for a minute. Y-You’re bleeding pretty bad and I–”

”No, Bob.” Your voice was sharp. Not cruel, but tired. Bone-deep tired. Your eyes were hollowed by it. “I don’t want to go. Don’t ask me again.”Bob’s lips parted. He froze like you’d slapped him with the words.

His hands came up instantly–palms out, defensive, the way someone does when they know they’ve stepped over the line. “Okay. Okay. I–I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to–I just…”

His voice cracked, soft and breathless, and his lashes fluttered quickly like something was stinging behind his eyes. “I–I just didn’t know what else to say. I just–I wanna help.”

You didn’t answer right away. You turned back toward the mirror, wincing slightly, your weight shifting between your feet like even standing was a negotiation.

Bob took a step forward. Then another.

“C-Can we at least get you cleaned up?” He asked, voice gentler now. “Just… Just so we can see the damage a little better? I–I promise I won’t touch anything unless you say it’s okay…And I–I won’t bring up medical again…”

You blinked at your own reflection. Or rather, at the smeared suggestion of it–nothing but a shadow behind fog and grief and wet heat. Your throat bobbed, your lips parted, and for a moment, the only sound in the room was the roar of the water pounding the tile behind you.

Then, slowly–like each movement had to be dug out of you one inch at a time–you nodded.

Just once.

Bob exhaled like he’d been holding his breath since the door opened. “Okay,” He murmured, so quietly it barely reached you. “Okay.”

He moved carefully, like you were a wild animal that might spook. His hands stayed visible, slow and shaking just slightly. His voice was raw and steady all at once. You watched him in the mirror as he stepped around you to reach the shower, his eyes flicking back to your face every few seconds like he was checking to make sure he wasn’t doing something wrong.

He pulled his scrub top over his head. His chest was lean and pale, the faint trace of old scars visible across his ribs. He didn’t look at you while he did it–he wasn’t doing this to be seen, only to be with you. To match your vulnerability. To show you he wasn’t going to ask you to do something he wouldn’t do beside you.

Then the pants went next, dropped quickly to the tile with a soft thund. He stepped into the shower in only his boxers, reaching up to adjust the temperature with a small frown, his brow furrowing as steam curled around him. Then, gently–so gently–it was his voice again.

“C’mon. I’ve got you.”

You turned, just barely, and let him take your hand. His fingers laced through yours so softly it nearly broke you. You stepped forward, and he guided you into the stream like you were made of glass and grief and things that couldn’t be named without breaking apart.

The moment your skin hit the water, the heat scalded into every nerve ending that had been screaming silently for hours.

You cried out.

Your knees gave out without warning, your body folding in on itself with a sudden, sharp gasp of pain.

“Woah–woah, hey, hey–I’ve got you–” Bob’s voice cracked mid-sentence as he caught you, his arms sliding around your waist and shoulder just in time to keep you from hitting the floor.

You collapsed against him with the weight of everything. Your cheek pressed to the curve of his collarbone, your ribcage shaking with shallow, broken breaths as the water soaked your skin, turning the blood on your body to long, diluted streaks that ran in ribbons down your legs, and floated around his.

Bob eased you down slowly. The tile kissed your knees, too cold beneath all the heat, but his arms stayed around you–tight, protective, and stable. He let himself sit with you fully, legs folding beneath his weight as he cradled you in his lap, one hand braced gently at your lower back, the other spread over your ribs, careful not to press too hard.

His chest rose and fell against your shoulder, each breath a little too quick, a little too uneven. You could feel his heart hammering, not with fear, but with something else–some horrible, aching emotion that had nowhere to go but into the way he held you.

You tilted your head up slightly–just enough to look at him.

And the look on his face made your breath catch in your throat.

Bob wasn’t crying. But his eyes were wet, the rims pink, his brows drawn in tight with something that looked like devastation barely leashed. His jaw was clenched, not out of anger, but because he looked like if he let it go, it would all fall out–every emotion, every worry, every broken piece of what this had done to him.

”Don’t cry Bob…I’m fine.” Bob leaned in closer at your words, his brows tightening even more–not with disbelief, but with something gentler. Something so heavy with care it made your chest ache worse than your ribs.

His forehead came to rest against yours, water beading and dripping between your skin, breath warm and unsteady against your lips. His voice was just a murmur, barely there beneath the drum of the shower.

“Please d-don’t lie to me…” He whispered, closing his eyes. “I c-can’t…I can’t see you like this and not do something, I–”

His voice broke completely then. And it wasn’t loud. It wasn’t dramatic or violent. It was quiet devastation—the kind that crumbled inwards, the kind that shook hands and pressed foreheads and curled arms around broken bodies in the dark.

And then something in the air shifted.

It was subtle at first–so small you didn’t register it until it started to crawl up your spine.

A hum.

Not from the fan.

Not from the pipes.

Not from the water.

From him.

From the center of Bob’s chest, where it pressed faintly to yours. A vibration–gentle, low, like the world taking a breath. It was warm. Not hot like the water. Soft, like standing in sunlight after a long, cold night.

Bob didn’t seem to notice.

His arms stayed around you, trembling slightly but strong, his breath hitching once more as he whispered, “I–I would take it if I could. I’d take all of it, Y/N. I swear I would…” You blinked.

Once. Twice.

Then the numbness hit.

It started in your cheeks, right under where Bob’s forehead rested against yours. A strange, tingling sensation, like static running under your skin—like the prickle of limbs falling asleep, but deeper. Warmer. It began to spread across your jaw, down your neck, over the pulsing ache of your ribs. You stiffened slightly in his arms.

“B-Bob…” Your voice came out thin. Cautious. “Something’s… wrong. I—I think I’m—”

You pulled your head back.

Just an inch. Just enough to look at him.

And that’s when you saw it.

His eyes–his eyes–weren’t the soft blue they usually were. They weren’t even shimmering yellow like when the Sentry burned through him, lit up and alive and untouchable. No, this was something else entirely.

They were light.

Not glowing with light–made of it.

Warm and impossible, like the moment just before sunrise. Liquid gold, honeyed and bright, but threaded with something deeper–something eternal. Like looking into a star too close. Like watching the sky open.

Bob didn’t even seem to realize it. He was staring at you like you had changed. Like something was wrong with you.

His brows furrowed suddenly, breath catching. “What the hell…”

You froze.

“What?” you asked, voice sharp and shaky all at once. “Bob—what is it? What’s happening?”

His eyes searched your face, wide and stunned and almost afraid to believe what he was seeing.

“Your face…” he whispered, “Y/N… it’s–”

He reached up–slowly–and touched your cheek.

His fingertips brushed the skin just below your eye, where the cut had been. Where the swelling had bloomed purple and raw. There was nothing there now. Not even the tenderness. Just heat from the shower. Just clean, unbroken skin.

“It’s healed.”

You blinked again.

And now that he said it–you felt it.

The pounding in your ribs was gone.

The throb in your thigh, the searing line from your bicep to your elbow, the burn from the rebar in your side—it was all gone.

Your body felt heavy, yes, but no longer from pain. Just from the realization.

You looked down at your arms, your legs, your skin, now mostly clean under the steady pour of water–and new. Whole. No dried blood. No open wounds.

You looked back at him.

“Holy fuck…You healed me…Is the…Is the Sentry back or something?” He shook his head in confusion.

”I–I don’t know…I didn’t e-even know he could do t-that to other people…”

[manifestobackshot]

CLOSING SHIFT — LEE HEESEUNG (teaser)

UPDATE: SHE'S POSTED HEREEEE!!!!

Since you’ve started working at Target, you’ve always been scheduled with Heeseung as your closing shift manager. Zone, organize, stock, assist—things that were outlined in your job application and employee handbook. Now, nowhere in your job description did it lay out an affair with your manager, Heeseung.

PAIRING: retail manager!lee heeseung x employee!afab reader

WORDCOUNT: 15k (est.) TEASER: 0.7k

TAGS: smut, (semi)-public sex, oral (male-receiving), unprotected sex, creampie, jealous heeseung, and more…

As you rounded the corner, you passed the Women’s section, where someone had shoved what seemed like every style of jeans Target sold haphazardly throughout the display. You started sorting it properly, muscle memory at this point, when a shadow fell across the display.

“Helping out outside your zone again?”

The voice was familiar. Too familiar.

Heeseung.

You looked up too quickly and regretted it instantly. Why was the lighting in this store so flattering on him? 

“Just making sure no one dies in a Universal Thread avalanche,” You said, forcing a smile. “You know. Hero stuff.”

Heeseung crouched next to the cart and started folding jeans alongside you. “You always this dedicated to the greater good?”

“I like my job.”

“I can tell.”

There was something in his voice—not teasing exactly, but thoughtful. Like he was cataloging something. Taking note.

You cleared your throat. “Did you need something?”

Heeseung glanced up at you. “No,” he said. “Just saw you and figured I’d say hey.”

“Oh,” You said, very articulately. “Cool.”

Cool?

Fuck, Heeseung.

The moment you clocked in, you knew it was going to be one of those shifts.

The store was understaffed—as usual—and the Ready to wear department looked like a tornado had swept through it. You were halfway through untangling a pile of graphic tees when Heeseung’s voice broke the silence, calling for you, of course.

Heeseung's voice was calm, professional, but you'd worked here long enough to hear the undercurrent of something else. Something that made your fingers tighten around the hanger in your hand.

You pressed the button. "Ready to wear. Doing go backs."

A beat of static. Then: "Copy. Need you in Shoes for a zone check."

Sunoo, who was pretending to organize the jewelry counter nearby, didn't even bother hiding his smirk. "Oh wow. Shoes. How urgent," he drawled, stirring his iced coffee with exaggerated innocence. "Should I become HR Sunoo now or—"

Shoes was empty when you got there—no guests, no team members, just rows of perfectly stacked shoes and the distinct feeling you were being watched.

"Zone looks fine to me," you said to no one in particular.

"Does it?"

You turned to find Heeseung leaning against the shelving unit, arms crossed, red tee a little more disheveled since the last time you saw him. His gaze dropped to your name tag,then back up to your face. "I think you missed a spot."

You arched a brow. "Really? Where?"

He stepped closer, reaching past you to adjust some boots that didn't need adjusting. His sleeve brushed your shoulder. "Here."

The air between you thickened, the scent of his cologne—something expensive and woodsy—filling your space. His fingers lingered on the shelf's edge, knuckles grazing your hip—contact you unconsciously welcomed.

It felt dangerous, for some reason. Your body’s willingness to accept him and not resist one bit was telling. Yet still, you were speechless at the situation you found yourself in, pinned between your ETL and some shelves.

No movement, no words. A small gasp is all he got out of you, and perhaps he was expecting more. The way Heeseung had you trapped under him, staring you down as if he were going to pounce on you at any moment, made your heart race faster than you would’ve liked to admit. 

“Say,” he started, “how observant do you think I am?” 

“Sorry, what?”

“Do I make you nervous?”

And again, you were at a loss for words, zoning in on the sight in front of you—he was mere inches away from you, gaze tracing from your eyes, to your lips, and back again. Still, so attentive through his lashes and half-lidded eyes. 

In a low voice, he spoke, “I’d like to ask,” quiet so as to not stir attention, “why do I make you nervous?”

You could practically feel his voice dripping with satisfaction, a smirk playing on his lips. 

“I…Hey, this is—”

“Do you like me or something?” he prodded, bringing his arms down to again graze your side, almost resting them along your hips as he steps closer, almost pressing his hips against your—

[edensrose]

꒰ ݁ ꫂ᭪ ꒱ . Heart Eaters Event

featuring ᝰ.ᐟ✧ 。。。“ catch me as i rebound ”

˚₊‧꒰ა spider-man.ᐟ satoru gojo ﾉ gn. reader ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

dating tokyo's beloved webhead came with a life full of fun & chaos. danger licked at your heels, as the hero's only weakness. but you never cared, you always knew he'd catch you.

broadcast ᝰ.ᐟ✧ spider-man au, fear of death, reader death, heavy angst 𓂃 wc ⌇ 1.0k

sweetheart host ᝰ.ᐟ✧ i've always wanted to write spidey satoru but at what cost. art cred ⌇ email2140 (twt)

Despite a new villain every week, Tokyo City was the height of beauty. With its bustling life, its great neon lights and grand skyscrapers kissing the sky. Those skyscrapers?

Especially beautiful when you're flung hundreds of feet from the Tokyo Skytree.

Screams died in your throat. Heart pounding in your ears. Your tears flew with the rushing air. Rushing. Faster. Faster. Colours merged, sounds— fear flooded your entire being and clutched your soul.

If the ground didn't kill you first your shrivelling lungs might. Plummeting through the sky, still no air. Rushing.

Falling.

Faster. Faster.

Faster—

The ground approached. Your heart fell to it first. At last a scream tore from your burning lungs and tears surged through the endless air. Your eyes flew shut. Squeezed. You braced for impact.

Almost.

Almost—

"Sweet things like you can't be falling for me like this."

Warmth replaced the cold shatter of the ground. Encased around your shaking form. The wind stopped. The rushing. The surge. For a terrifying moment— you thought you died. Hallucinating. Hovered over your crumbled body splattered across pavement.

But as you slowly willed your eyes open, instead of blood and gore, you're met with white. That infuriating web pattern with blue accents and big, animated eyes. An expressionless mask, and yet you saw his wide grin clear as day.

Spider-Man. Your Spider-Man, also known as Gojo Satoru: your boyfriend.

Hanging from a web with one strong arm while the other looped tight round your waist. You're flushed to him. Where's the ground?

Despite yourself, you glanced down— the endless expanse continued for hundreds more feet.

"SATO-!" Your scream died in your hand as you slapped it over your mouth. Tears gushing from your eyes as you gaped at the bastard just, dangling there!

"Hey hey hey now sshhh, this is not where you should be screaming my name."

"Are you crazy!?"

"—in love with you? Always sweets."

"PUT ME DOWN!"

Satoru flinched but cocked his head with a bit of a chuckle. His eyes swept below then to the singular web thread he gripped. He squinted at an approaching buzz, then crooned. "Weelll, what my sweetheart wants they get."

He let go.

He let—

You screamed bloody murder as you both hurled through the air. Your heart might've stopped again. Eyes wide, then squeezed, all while his infuriating laughter filled the air. Arms looped tight around your trembled form.

The rest was a blur. Your lungs gave out the scream and you limped into a shaking mess of clinging limbs and face buried into his shoulder.

You didn't dare look. No. What if you really did fall? What if none of this was true? What if Satoru wasn't there to catch you this time?

"I've got you baby," the low hum in your ear eased your muscles from memory. At last your eyes pried open.

Thwack!

"Hey!" He rubbed his chest with another pout you could see through the mask before his hand returned to cradling your head. "Is that how you thank me?"

"I thought—" you croaked, squirming your hands around and gripping onto his back. "Thought I. . . Th-Thought I was gonna—"

"Sshhh," tender fingers stroked down your spine and you hiccuped into his shoulder with a sob. "Told ya you could count on me huh? Not gonna let anything happen to my sweetheart."

"Jerk." You huffed through tears.

He laughed, glanced up then set you back down. Large hands kissed either side of your face as he cradled you, leaned over your teary form with a smooch to your cheek.

Another huff, you shoved the lower half of his mask up. "Kiss me properly."

At last you saw that signature, frustratingly handsome grin.

"You realise I gotta go give the buzzard hell for throwing my sweetie off the Skytree, yeah?"

"And that same sweetie will make sure you regret saving me in the first place if I don't get my kiss."

He scoffed, grinned wider and pulled you in for a smooch. Lips soft and loving, paired with your feral, adrenaline-induced passion from a near-death experience.

"I'll always catch you, sweetheart." He promised, two more kisses snatched from your eager mouth.

It's your turn to grin. Slapping a hand over his chest you shoved him back a bit. "Uhuh, go do your job spider-boy." The looming Vulture up ahead gave you no anxiety. Not with your winking boyfriend swinging swift into action.

Because he'd always catch you.

Always save you.

There wasn't a doubt in the world. A thought that you'd ever meet a cruel fate. He'd always catch you.

Until he didn't.

Until your fate was met at the hands of his closest friend turned maniac.

Until you fell through the air like an angel. Broken wings. Shattered halo. Eyes full of mercy he didn't deserve.

Because even in your last moments. You still trusted that he'd catch you.

But he couldn't.

Not this time.

It wasn't the fall that killed you. But his web. Shot from panic as you approached the gateway he wouldn't be able to follow. No screams came from you— but they did from him.

Raw, and shattered, and broken,

As your neck snapped from the backlash,

and his heart ripped from the inside out.

When Satoru eventually lowered to your fated end. His arms encased you the same way they did that day. That day he did everything right. But now here you lay, a product of all of his mistakes.

"Sweetheart," he croaked.

His hand held yours. Gently, desperately. Won't you hit him again? Won't you scream at him? Call him an idiot and demand a kiss?

"No, no no no— no please," he cradled you closer. To that damned suit. The same one that killed you. White turned scarlet. The world went grey.

Still, he trembled a kiss to your lips. Just as you would have asked of him.

After he caught you.

After he saved you.

© 𝒆𝒅𝒆𝒏𝒔𝒓𝒐𝒔𝒆 . no copying, translation or plagiarism authorised

[dyinginthearctic]

SIXTEENTH-CENTURY BASQUE WHALER'S CAP

Are you from the 16th century? Are you a whaler? Are you a Basque whaler? Yeah, me neither. But would you like to look like one?

Saw this post. Thought, I want that hat. Made it. Wrote the pattern. Bon appetit.

PATTERN ↓

From 1530 until the early 1600s, Basque whalers annually crossed the Atlantic Ocean to Canada. During the ice-free months of June to January, scores of workers established a semi-permanent station dedicated to processing the harvest on the shore of the Strait of Belle Isle, a narrow channel on the whales' migratory route between Newfoundland and the mainland of Labrador.

In the winter of 1577, the sea ice set early, trapping ships. Unable to return to their homeland in northern Spain and southern France with a full hold of processed whale oil, many were forced to stay in Labrador, where they died of exposure and scurvy.

In the 1970s, the site was rediscovered. More than 62 graves and the remains of 140 whalers were found in the cemetery. Some of the graves contained textile fragments.

(Piecework Magazine, Jan/Feb 2014)

NOTES I am still a beginner knitter. I started this hat without a plan, I just looked at the pictures and tried to make something that looked kind of similar. Used a ball of mystery yarn from my nan. And it turned out great! And then I blocked it. And it was too big (the guy who never knits swatches finally got bit in the arse, who would've thought). My tension is okay-ish but on the tighter side, so if your head is bigger than mine, you'll be grand. Also, I've never written a pattern before, so I hope it makes some sense.

YOU WILL NEED

≈ 80g of DK weight yarn

A set of 4mm (US 6) double-pointed needless

Darning needle

A piece of cardboard (or something else to wrap the yarn around to make a tassel)

Scissors

SIZE ↕ 31cm (12”) (without the tassel) and ↔ 25cm (9.5”) (my head is 55cm (21.5”), and it fits quite well, but it could stretch a bit more and still look good)

DIRECTIONS

SEED STITCH STRIPES

Cast on 84 stitches and join in the round

Work in seed stitch for 11 rounds (round 1: *K1, P1*; staring with round 2 you just P the knits and K the purls)

Purl 1 round

Knit 8 rounds

Purl 1 round

Work in seed stitch for 7 rounds

Purl 1 round

Continue in stocking stitch (*K*) until the hat measures 11-12cm (4.5”) from cast on edge

CROWN DECREASES AND PURL STRIPES

(It's a lot, I know. But I like the look of these better than the usual crown decreases, they're a bit less visible)

Dec#1: K5, *K2tog, K10* × 6, K2tog, K5 [77]

Knit 4 rounds

Dec #2: K5, *K2tog, K9* × 6, K2tog, K4 [70]

Knit 3 rounds

Dec #3: K4, *K2tog, K8* × 6, K2tog, K4 [63]

Knit 3 rounds

Dec #4: K4, *K2tog, K7* × 6, K2tog, K3 [56]

Purl 1 round

Knit 1 round

Dec #5: K3, *K2tog, K6* × 6, K2tog, K3 [49]

Knit 1 round

Dec #6: K3, *K2tog, K5* × 6, K2tog, K2 [42]

Purl 1 round

THE CONE (idk what to call it)

Knit 2 rounds

Work 5 rounds of *K1tbl, P1* rib (you don't have to twist the knits if you can make the 1×1 rib look neat. I can't, so…)

Continue in stocking stitch for 7-8cm (3”) (or more, depending on how floppy you want your hat to be)

Dec #1: K3, *K2tog, K5* × 5, K2tog, K2 [36]

Knit 3 rounds

Dec #2: K2, *K2tog, K4* × 5, K2tog, K2 [30]

Knit 2 rounds

Dec #3: K3, *K2tog, K3* × 5, K2tog, K1 [24]

Knit 2 rounds

Dec #4: K1, *K2tog, K2* × 5, K2tog, K1 [18]

Knit 1 round

Dec #5: *K2tog* [9]

Cut yarn and thread it through the remaining 9 stitches, pull tightly (I usually do it twice), secure on the wrong side

TASSEL

Make a tassel (I used a paint brush case instead of a piece of cardboard and wrapped yarn around it 45 times)

Attach it to the hat

FINISHING

Weave in all ends

Block the hat

CONGRATULATIONS

You can go whaling reread Moby-Dick and rewatch The North Water in style!

[megapteraurelia]

tldr; — kenma x you | hq

SUMMARY; they said long distance relationships are hard, but kenma had always made you feel like it was easy. WARNINGS; long distance relationships; fluff; angst; mention of fps games (bleh!!) WORD COUNT; 1017.

kenma. — then.

the sound of gunfire echoed through kenma's headset. last player standing. it was 1v3, definitely doable. his heart wasn't racing, but his concentration was sharp, his fingers sharper as they danced across his keyboard.

"he's on B," someone whispered, voice so quiet as to not disturb his focus, but kenma thought it was unnecessary. it was a good comm; there was no need to be so scared. he exhaled through his nose, pinky pressing down on the shift-button until the last second before he turned the corner to peek—

his phone buzzed.

it sat on the edge of his desk, screen lighting up with a name that had his hands grow sweaty and his heart to stutter.

heyy. are you busy?

he glanced down, eyes flitting to the screen, then back to the game, then to the screen again.

a message. from you. he should probably wait until after the round to text you, after the tension had faded, after the game was over. his teammates were still calling out anything they saw on the mini map, any util that sounded out in the distance, but they felt distant.

the words on the screen were so simple, but his heart thudded strong in his chest. he didn't know what it was about you, but you made everything quieter, softer, more real and more rooted in this real life that he often times always wanted to escape. he felt the weight of his fingers on the mouse. he should just win the game, he thought. but when it came to you, he always felt like he had to be different. like he had to do more, something he wasn't sure how to do, but that gnawed at him until—

kenma reached for his phone with one hand, the other still on his mouse. quickly with a dry throat, before he could second-guess it, he typed back.

playing. but not too busy

a flash. gunfire.

he died instantly.

"DUDE, what the hell?" someone groaned into kenma's ear, frustration thick in his voice, "you threw that."

kenma didn't respond to his teammate. instead, he muted his teammates, his own microphone, and leaned back in his chair to stare at the message thread, breath shallow. he stared and waited for the three dots to appear, waited for his heart to do the tell-tale sign of skipping a thousand beats.

he sent another message, because he thought he may lose his courage if he didn't.

though i actually died to respond mid-match

his leg was whipping up and down impatiently, time not moving fast enough, his pulse quickening in the way it always did when it came to you, like he was standing too close to the edge of something he wasn't sure he could handle. something that wasn't a game.

when your response came through finally, his ears flushed deeply, quiet settling in his room.

you died for me? that's kind of romantic, ken

a moment later:

don't make it weird. (but yeah)

kenma. — now.

the call had been silent for a while now. he sat with his headphones still on, listening to the soft ambient hum of your room through the microphone; the sounds barely there. no laughter, no soft talking, no you. just the vague, distant rustle that indicated there was somebody existing on the other side.

he thought the silence settled like dust around him, and then you spoke, your voice tinged with the kind of exhaustion that went beyond the physical.

"are you tired?"

he was slow in his reply, even though it was only one word, "yeah."

"i can go. if you want."

even slower. "okay."

the call ended. kenma thought he should have said something; anything that could be considered a proper goodbye, but he didn't. he couldn't.

he knew he was being an idiot. an asshole. the type of person he thought he couldn't be, yet even as he let the distance grow, he couldn't force himself to admit it.

you were still here. he could feel you, somewhere, waiting for his reply, waiting for him to be there, waiting and hoping. he didn't know why you still were, he didn't know why you still waited. he wished you didn't.

his thumb hovered over his phone, the chat window still open in front of him. there were your messages, and they weren't lots. just small, three-worded sentences, yet they ate at him with their sharp teeth.

are you busy? i miss you

kenma had wanted to ignore you. he also had wanted to reply. had wanted to tell you that he missed you, too. but he couldn't get the words past his lips, couldn't say them when they felt so wrong and so hollow, like they wouldn't reach you in the way they used to.

he typed something, and deleted it again.

you deserved better, he thought. he thought you did when he woke up and saw the good morning message on his phone, he thought you did when he went a whole day without texting or calling you and didn't even notice until you were the one who caved in and always texted first, he thought you did every time the call ended and every time the silence stretched between you. every time he didn't know what to say.

his fingers had moved again, tapping out the words.

kinda playing. but not too busy

when the reply came back, he felt the weight of it more than he should have.

okay.

that was it. nothing more. just this one word digging deeply in between his ribs right in his chest. he could hear the emptiness in that word, could feel it in the way your texts weren't coming like they used to. not with the same frequency, not with the same warmth.

he wished he could pull you back, but the truth was that when he opened his hands, they were empty. he had nothing to offer anymore, nothing to give.

i'm sorry, he thought to nobody but his own useless self. he couldn't even type these words.

instead, he logged off.

TAGLIST | @takes1 @classicalelephant @pomigranit

[crowttore]

can i innocently drop by to request edging + itto please? :))

Equally innocent reply-

Tags: Itto x reader, edging, very light bondage, light power dynamic, itto is the one being edged, reader is a menace <3

Minors DNI

The muscles in your thighs burned after who knew how many rounds of this, never getting tired of hearing him thank you and beg for more despite how raw his skin must feel by now.

Wet sounds echoed around the room, only occasionally broken up by his high-pitched whines when you would pull off his cock and grin deviously when it smacked heavily against his stomach.

Had it gotten harder to ignore the ache between your legs at every wet drag along Itto's chiseled abdomen? Absolutely. But pushing your own pleasure aside was nothing against the satisfaction of how few nudges against his leaking tip it took to reduce the oni to a panting and pleading mess.

"H-hey," he began, using a cough to hide the way his voice cracked ever so slightly when your thighs squeezed his waist, "this is great but why don't we-"

You cut him off but swiftly sliding a finger into his mouth, admiring how his eyes fluttered and his lips immediately wrapped around the digit. "I know baby," you cooed, pressing down on his tongue, "you're getting impatient aren't you?"

The enthusiastic nod was far from necessary when he kept bucking his hips upwards, the ease with which he moved beneath you serving as a reminder of just how willingly he had given up control. It sent a thrill through your body to see his wrists, tied to the bedframe with crimson silk that matched the pretty nails not unlike claws. Despite every panting whine around your thumb (sounding adorably close to an agitated bull) Itto could easily take exactly what his body wanted.

Graciously, you pulled your thumb from his lips to let him answer, instead moving your hands to knead his chest. "Yeah, yeah yeah…" A string of gasps followed, his cheeks flushing as you began rolling your hips anew. "Gotta move, aah.. You gotta let me move-.."

Except you both knew how much sweeter it felt to him when he'd earned it.

Itto lurched beneath you, his broad tip barely slipping into your equally eager - but far more composed - body, the little taste of what was to come having him tense to the point of veins bulging on his arms. And other places no doubt.

"But you're looking so sweet right now," you praised, not missing the dopey smile contrasting his continued struggle between wanting to sheathe himself fully and wanting you to slowly sink down on his no doubt painfully hard length.

Every little shift of your hips had him sucking in a sharp breath, the oni looking almost drunk on pleasure when you inched further down, one hand rolling a nipple while the other threaded through his sweaty hair. "I suppose you do deserve a treat," you laughed, gently tugging at the ivory strands when his head threatened to fall back against the plush pillows.

It was too tempting to resist wrapping your hands around his sleek horns, using them for leverage just enough that you could see the muscles at his neck flex. They were smooth to the touch and clearly sensitive, if Itto's cock twitching inside you and unabashed groans were any indication.

You set a steady pace, leaning forward enough to lick along the column of his neck, knowing he must swiftly be getting dizzy from the sensations. "More- more.. that's it-" Itto whined, every muscle in his body rigid beneath you in anticipation of release, "don't stop, don't stop please.. Please, keep-"

The moment you pulled away, your own hole twitching at the loss, Itto's protests died down to choked moans as he tried to rut up against you. "Behave," you clicked your tongue, palm spreading across his chest to encourage him to stop moving, "I said you could have a treat, but I don't think you've been good enough to deserve a feast, yet."

Itto looked akin to a kicked puppy, sharp teeth digging into his bottom lip as he tried to regain enough control of his body to please you, knowing full well you weren't above getting yourself off and leaving him hot and bothered.

[leighsartworks216]

Lap Dog

Sylus x gn!Reader

I wrote this at like 2 am. Can I not keep getting the best inspiration/motivation at the absolute worst hours??

Inspired by my own post

Warnings: violence, guns, threats, kissing, biting, hair-pulling, cuddling, literal sleeping together, no smut, fluffy ending

Word Count: 1,600 (oooh nice)

Main Masterlist

Love and Deepspace Masterlist

The Raven Masterlist

AO3

Tag List Form (Updated)

Two knocks sound on the door, but there is no pause before it opens. All conversation dies. The black market Protocore dealer and his two lackeys are silent as they watch you enter.

Your attire is casual, if not a bit tantalizing. One of Sylus’s shirts hangs loosely on your frame, partially unbuttoned. Shorts hidden beneath give the impression of nudity. And to top it all off, a gun is very visibly strapped to your thigh.

They all stare, baffled at the entrance of Sylus’s infamous bodyguard. The discrepancy of the horror stories detailing your ruthlessness and capabilities and the soft, lazy way you pad across the floor to settle directly into Sylus’s lap. It’s harder to take you seriously, if anything.

Sylus smirks, naturally, always accepting any affection you feel he’s worthy of. His hand slips under the loose edge of the shirt to hold your waist, his touch warm and protective. You wrap an arm around his neck, the other resting its hand on his chest. Your head leans on his shoulder, eyes closed. You don’t seem to give a damn about the state of affairs you’ve just barged in on. The client can’t say anything about it, though; this is the Onychinus leader’s home, he can’t disrespect that.

Sylus tilts his head nonchalantly, like nothing ever happened, like the only thing interrupting the meeting was the client’s own self-imposed silence. “You were saying…?”

The dealer balks for a moment. He looks between you and the man he came to do business with. After a beat of silence, where he struggled to grasp onto the threads of the conversation, you open your eyes to glare at him, not even bothering to turn your head. It’s sharp. A warning. Speak, or else.

He clears his throat. “O-Of course, sir. As I was saying, I was able to get my hands on some rare variants of pearl and violet Protocores. They’ve been examined by our lead scientists, and it seems they are highly receptive to alterations.”

“Did you bring any with you, or do I just have to truth your word?” Sylus questions.

“I brought one along,” the man quickly reassures. Your face turns to watch him as he gestures for one of the henchmen to bring forward a steel briefcase, setting it on the rich wooden desk. He clicks the latches open and lifts a tube out with both hands. Floating within the glass is a spiky violet Protocore. “This is one of the weaker ones, of course. It’s bad business to bring the best product to the first meeting.” He holds it out to Sylus with both hands. When the leader gestures for him to bring it closer, he carefully rounds the desk to present it up close.

You squint your eyes at the crystal for a moment. In one swift motion, you pull your gun from its holster and point it at the man’s face. He nearly drops the container in shock. Instead, he clutches it to his chest, staring down the barrel of the gun.

Sylus tsks. “Black market salesmen, always claiming they can scrounge up the best of the best, only to fall short.”

The lackeys reach for their guns. One draws and aims at you. The other hesitates, hand hovering over his holster. The dealer takes a step back.

“Wha- Call off your guard dog!” he pleads.

“Why should I? They’ve just sniffed out a liar. I’m inclined to reward them with a little treat,” he muses. “Feel up to hunting, sweetie?”

You don’t answer.

“No! P-please I-! These are the real deal, I swear!”

Your gun moves from his face to his henchmen. Before the armed lackey can fire, you shoot first. The bullet rips through his hand, traveling up his stiff arm and lodging itself firmly in his elbow. He screams in agony as his gun clatters to the ground, reduced to his knees beside it as he clutches his injuries to his chest. The other one lifts his hands up in surrender, not wishing to further test your ire.

“Was it all a lie, I wonder?”

The gun returns to aim directly at him. He drops the tube, glass shattering on the floor, to cover his face with both hands as though it would save him if you pulled the trigger. “Wait! Wait! I know where I can get the Protocores!”

Sylus hmphs. “Heel.”

You obey immediately, returning the gun to your holster. The dealer uncovers his eyes to watch as you lean yourself back against Sylus’s chest, face resting against his neck and eyes closed, as if you were tired of threatening him.

It doesn’t put the man at ease at all.

“Then go fetch them,” Sylus demands. “Two days. If you try to run away or return empty handed, I guarantee you a fate worse than death.”

The man gaped, slack jawed. His hands twisted his tie anxiously. “Two days?! S-Sir that’s impossible!”

“That’s none of my concern.”

In all his years of selling to big-ticket bosses, cutting corners and swindling them outta their money, never had he been so blatantly dropped at Death’s doorstep. And now here he was, unsure if he should scream or cry, or beg for a quick death from the two Grim Reapers that decided his fate.

So he was left staring at Sylus and his guard dog, hands shaking and throat choked up. It’s the second henchman who steps forward to grab his employer and associate, dragging them out of the office. They scurry down the halls, desperate to leave as soon as possible.

Sylus chuckles once they leave. You just sigh against his neck.

“They were boring.”

“Next time, I’ll let you deal with them as you please,” he promises. His voice is softer. No longer does it have the edge of intimidation and danger, the edges smoothed away with affection.

You hum, lazily accepting the offer.

Sylus’s free hand moves to your exposed thigh. He works diligently to remove the holster, undoing one strap at a time, until it slides free from your leg. Red and black tendrils carry it to the desk, resting it softly on the dark wood. He tenderly rubs at the indents in your skin from the leather, drawing a contented sigh from you.

“You should go back to bed, sweetie,” he coos. “You didn’t need to bother yourself with this.”

You shake your head languidly from side to side, nose running up his neck, his jaw, until it presses behind his ear. “It’s part of our deal. Wake me next time,” you whisper.

He closes his eyes, savoring the sound of your breaths, the hush of your voice.

When he first met you, you didn’t say a word. The auction house awed and feared you, just as they awed and feared him. Two terrible forces of nature. When he danced with you that night, you’d tapped on his shoulder to communicate - one for no, two for yes. It wasn’t until your fourth encounter, when he proposed an agreement, that he heard your voice.

“Our deal has been long since fulfilled,” he reminded you. He turned his head, nose brushing against your cheek. “Or would you like to upgrade our terms?”

You breathe long and slow against him, silent. He knows better than to accept it as an answer one way or the other, where most people would consider it an immediate dismissal.

“I want… to go back to bed.”

He chuckles, but complies with your request. He lifts you effortlessly as he stands, your faces still tucked close together as he navigates the mansion. He can just hear Luke and Kieran laughing to themselves downstairs.

He passes by your old room. It was where you stayed for the first several weeks of your employment, before you wordlessly began climbing into his bed. It was a grand compliment. You encroaching on his space like a stray cat, finally deciding he is worthy of your mere presence.

The door to his bedroom opens with his Evol. He nudges it closed when he enters. Your side of the bed is still unmade, blankets shoved down to the end. Mephisto paced playfully along his perch. No doubt that’s how you’d learned of his meeting.

He lays you down, but before he can stand back up and pull the blankets over you, your arms wrap around his neck and pull him in for an unhurried kiss. He supports himself with a hand beside your head as the other cups your cheek. It’s sweet as honey, stinging like a bee when you bite down on his lip. He groans softly, suppressed by another sweet kiss. Your nails scratch up the back of his neck. One hand tangles within the soft white locks.

And pulls.

His head follows the movement, lips forming a delighted smirk as he looks down at you through half-lidded eyes. You grin minutely as you release him. “Stay?”

“Of course, sweetie.”

Your arms fall from his shoulders as you turn onto your side, facing his half of the bed. He stands up straight and goes back to his task of drawing the blankets back up around you. Even as you lay still, seemingly already fast asleep, he knows you’re listening intently as he disappears into the closet and changes into his sleepwear. You’re still awake when he slips into bed, and as he shifts to the middle. You slot yourself easily into his arms with a pleasant sound.

He falls asleep to the gentle rise and fall of your chest, and the warmth of your hand holding onto him.

[ordinary-barbie]

but i feel something when i see you now.

tags: friends with benefits, references to death, rafe is anxious, some sexual references but nothing graphic, mentions of aftercare, angst followed by tenderness, author finds a way to shoehorn love island in yet again

summary: You and Rafe have the perfect friends-with-benefits situation. No feelings, just fun. But one night, everything shifts.

note: title from "icu" by Phoebe Bridgers!

Something felt...different about Rafe tonight.

The two of you had fallen into a comfortable routine. You'd come over to his place (or sometimes yours, but you preferred his "bougie high thread count sheets"), you and he would shoot the shit or play Mario Kart together, and then fuck. He'd take care of you afterward, and then you'd just joke around for a bit before you left. When you and Rafe had first started hooking up, you'd both been fresh off of breakups—you with your high school sweetheart and Rafe with the girl he'd been dating since junior year of college—and had quickly agreed to a no-strings-attached arrangement. It was fun, casual, and easy, just the way both of you liked it.

Tonight started off normally. You and Rafe caught up on the latest season of Love Island US, pausing the show after a few episodes to make out. But the sex tonight was different—way more intimate than usual. Rafe kept staring deeply into your eyes, holding you like you were some priceless artifact.

After Rafe did his usual round of aftercare—cleaning you up with a warm towel, getting you a cold bottle of water from the fridge, and insisting you pee afterwards—he buried his head in the side of your neck, inhaling your scent. "Stay with me tonight," he mumbled into your skin, leaving featherlight kisses along your collarbone.

"What's gotten into you tonight?" you joked. "You're not usually this...clingy."

Rafe suddenly grew quiet. "I—It's nothing," he mumbled.

You raised an eyebrow. "It's not nothing. I can tell something's on your mind. So spill."

"You're gonna laugh at me," he said, looking away from you.

You tenderly grabbed his face, turning it so the two of you were looking face-to-face again. "Rafe Cameron. We've known each other since college. You've told me things you've never told anyone else, not even Topper and Kelce. I promise I won't judge you for whatever you have to say."

Rafe sighed, running a hand through his hair—a surefire tell that he was feeling anxious. You squeezed his hand comfortingly, trying to help ground him.

"I had a dream about you last night," Rafe began, his voice shaking. "Actually, it was a nightmare. You and I were at the beach, and...you died. I saw the ocean waves take you away. And I couldn't do anything—it was like the sand was keeping me there. I was stuck." He was trembling as he recounted his nightmare, prompting you to wrap your arms around him and give him the deepest hug.

"I don't want to lose you. I can't," Rafe said, on the verge of tears.

You rubbed Rafe's back soothingly, your heart absolutely aching for him. Ironically, you'd really grown to care for him after becoming fuckbuddies. Before then, the two of you weren't close; you were only tangentially linked through mutual friends. But then you came to realize that Rafe Cameron was a person, who laughed at your dumb jokes and cared about his sisters and worked too hard.

And the sex was great—of course it was, this was Rafe—but sometimes, in the afterglow, you allowed yourself to wonder about something more. The thought scared you a little, so you quickly snuffed it out, convincing yourself that you were fine with this arrangement, and so was Rafe. No need to shake things up when everything felt so comfortable and familiar, right?

"I'll stay as long as you want me to," you assured Rafe, lifting up his hand and kissing his knuckles.

Rafe smiled gratefully before getting up and finding you an old UNC Tar Heels t-shirt to sleep in. You shyly asked if he had any mouthwash, and Rafe made a mental note to have a spare toothbrush waiting for you whenever you stayed over again. (He should probably keep one at your place, too. You know, equality and all that.)

In the light of day, you knew that you and Rafe would have to look at your entanglement and make some decisions about the state of your relationship. It was clear that this wasn't some casual fling anymore—both of you felt too much for that. But for now, Rafe was content to hold you close, and you happily leaned into his touch.

[kenobers]

scorn to change my state | jason todd x fem!reader valentine's special ♡

but first free palestine !! jason and sionis!reader exchange valentines and make it clear that they really really really like each other. featuring sonnet 29 by william shakespeare. tw: insecure reader, slightly less insecure reader. lots of kissing. abuse of italics a/n: this is my over the top boquet of valentines flowers for all of you, forgive the corniness. for more sionis!reader, see the links below. magic hands | is this love | tremble & shake

Jason is fairly certain there’s a small amount of dynamite lodged in his chest, ticking along with his heartbeat.

He’s beginning to worry that this was a stupid Valentine’s present. But what else was he supposed to get a woman who didn’t need anything? He wasn’t well versed enough in jewelry to not fuck it up and neither of you had time for some kind of excursion. A fancy date seemed like too much of a given, like that couldn't be the present.

Maybe it wasn’t even the right move to get you something. You're...prickly. He’s prickly. Outward affection is a rarity in this relationship. Physical affection makes him jump. Praise makes you defensive. Neither of you are good at receiving gifts - you hadn’t even exchanged Christmas presents. You’ve been lowering your emotional walls brick by stubborn brick, so maybe such a direct gift would be too much. Maybe making a point to celebrate a holiday all about love would be too much for you.

But then you’d thrown him through a loop the other morning when you let out a sweet sigh and declared that you “just love Valentine’s Day.”

Then this had quite literally fallen from the shelf and into his hands with a mighty thump in Gotham Used Books. The worn cover was the same shade of red as his helmet. The rose pattern looped around the title in a similar fashion to the floral stitching on your favorite top; the one you always wore on formal dates. And when he flipped the book open, the medieval sketch in the forward could easily be you.

You had mentioned that you wanted to read more this year. And the cashier with the English degree had assured him that this was a safe pick. It's sweet, the kind of thing a good boyfriend buys. The content is romantic, but it’s not over-the-top-teddy-bear-diamond-ring-romantic. Most importantly, he thought you would like it. 

He just wants you to like it. 

Now he's not so sure.

Of course you’re wearing the damn flower shirt. His eyes keep drifting to the swirl of gold, blue, pink and red flora that thread your chest; particularly the blush petals that sit right over your nipples. Your perfume turns the room into a garden, clean like iris, dark like cherries and warm like chocolate. Even simply sitting crossed legged in your bed, you’re regal.

You shove a small white box wrapped with expensive ribbon in his hands. He’s never seen such a look of pride on your face until he pulls the ribbon and opens the lid to find another box, this time in black leather with a gold trim.

“A box within a box? How did you know!”

“C-orny,” you blow a raspberry at him. “It’s in the box, dummy.”

“Will wonders never cease,” he teases back, flipping open the clasp. You scoot forward in anticipation. Your excitement can’t mask the anxiety in your eyes. Takes a breath, mentally preparing himself for whatever lays inside. You’re not the kind of woman to waste her time. Whatever’s in the box, he’s deserving of. At least, he is in your eyes - but that counts for a lot.  

Nestled in plush cream satin is a round silver rendition of di Vinci’s Vitruvian Man on a thin curb chain.

“You have the same glower,” you simper with a full set of teeth.

Jason scoffs in amusement. You really aren’t wrong, he thinks to himself as he traces over the meticulous detail, trying to be as feather light as his heavy touch can be. He’s just not sure if that’s a good thing. 

“Flip it over,” you urge him, your voice shrinking ever so slightly. He does so, holding the coin sized pendant to his eye to read the engraving.

For My Hero.

Jason’s chest swells with something that must be joy. A amygdaloid chorus of ‘She loves me! She loves me! She loves me!’ drowns out every other noise in his brain. For a moment, a red filter colors his vision and he’s certain the only explanation can be that his pupils have morphed into comically large cartoon hearts.

But when he looks back at you, you’re about to combust. Your eyelids have receded into your eyebrows, which in return have receded half way up your forehead. You’re keeping your rosy fingernails from fidgeting by digging them into your heated cheeks. The corner of your lip is twitching and he can tell that you’re resisting the urge to chew on it. The smudge of lipstick on your front teeth tells him you’ve already given in at least once.

“Geez, dude, take a breath,” he snorts.

“If you don’t like it, we can always return it and exchange it for something else,” you squawk nervously. “Or we can find a different chain if you want it longer or-or a different style or, y’know, like whatever…”

Jason grins a dopy, lopsided grin. It’s such a rare treat to see you so goosey. He knows he should probably feel bad about much he’s savoring the nervous look on your gorgeous face. However, his usually so ceaseless voice of guilt cannot be heard as the ‘She loves me! She loves me! She loves me!’ chorus begins to belt.

“It’s beautiful, baby,” he says, lifting it out of the box and clasping it around his neck. He can feel the weight of it on his sternum; not too heavy, just enough to remind him it’s there. He glances over at your full length mirror and admires the way the metal gleams from across the room, proudly shining against his charcoal t-shirt. His face contorts into the same glower as the design, turning back when it makes you giggle sweetly.

“So, you like it?”

He leans forward and kisses you softly, running the pendant through his fingers.

“I’m never taking it off,” he swears on your lips. He means it too. 

You laugh again and when you pull away, Jason catches the heavenly scent of your skin. The rustle of newspaper on literature yanks him back down to earth.

“My turn?” You ask, the trademark coy smile returning to your lips. You tap the poorly wrapped package in his lap. The chorus in his head reverts back to the tick of the bomb strapped to his arteries, drumming in time with your fingers.

Fuck, he got you such a bad fucking gift.

“Uh, yeah, yeah, sure,” he says, the words rolling out of his mouth before he can grasp them.

You snatch the package with a bounce and your mattress creaks like a disappointed groan.

“The comic section? How’d you know!” You tease, poking the tip of your tongue between your teeth.

“Just open it, princess,” he chuckles, despite how badly he does not want you to open it. He threads the ribbon from the necklace box between his fingers, painfully aware of how fine the velvety material is as he watches you tear back the coffee stained Garfield and Charlie Brown he used as wrapping paper.

Your eyes narrow in what he hopes is concentration, following the flowers and vines to the title. “Shakespeare’s Complete Sonnets and Poems,” you read aloud in a tone too flat for his liking.

“I know it’s not…You said you wanted to get more into reading, so I just…thought…It’s…” he trails off dumbly, rubbing the back of his overheated neck. “Poet..try?”

You don’t seem to be paying his bumbling much mind, however. You flip open the front cover and recite, “To my Sonnet Twenty-Nine. With all my love and respect, J.T.”

Oh God, he forgot he'd written that.

Jason thinks he maybe makes another attempt at speaking that comes out as little more than a sad gust of air. You waste no time rifling through the book until you find the poem in question. Every swish of a turning page clangs like the beat of a death march.

He sucks in a breath when you land on the right page. You read the poem in dead silence, your lips moving soundlessly in tandem with your eyes flying along the words.

‘When, in disgrace with fortune and men’s eyes, I all alone beweep my outcast state, and trouble deaf heaven with my bootless cries, And look upon myself and curse my fate, Wishing me like to one more rich in hope, Featured like him, like him with friends possessed, Desiring this man’s art and that man’s scope, With what I enjoy most contented least; Yet in these thoughts myself almost despising, Haply I think on thee, and then my state, Like to the lark at the break of day arising From sullen earth sings hymns at Heaven’s gate; For thy sweet love remembered such wealth brings That I scorn to change my state with kings.’

He recites in his head. He’d read it over and over and over again up until he wrapped it up this morning. It was as if Shakespeare had reached into the storm of Jason’s brain and pulled out the eye of the hurricane. How many times has he sulked over all the ways his life could be different and resented those who represented the things he could no longer have- only to look beside him and remember he had something they didn’t. You.

Despite everything he’s seen, Jason is a skeptic. He’s not a non-believer, in fact, he’s pretty sure he believes in God. But he’s apprehensive about the forces of the universe. If they’re out there, they aren’t looking out for anybody…except for when Aphrodite or Jesus or Shakespeare created you.

Ol’ Will must’ve had a vision of you; the lark with the sharp mouth and the soft lips. He must’ve foreseen you sitting in your floral shirt with the petals over your nipples and the blue jeans that hug your ass, the ones that make you feel good about yourself. He must’ve dreamt about the way you make a saggy dollar bin paperback look like it cost a million dollars. It's the only way the poem makes sense.

Ever since Jason started seeing you, the whites of his eyes shine brighter and gold flecks have begun to twinkle in his hazel irises. His skin is clearer, his hair is softer, his posture straighter. Even the tension in the crease of his scowl has been alleviated. His laughter has become more frequent, much to the amusement of his friends. His fashion has become more deliberate. Maybe he's dressing for your approval, but it's made him feel more confident, attractive even. He doesn’t feel so in pain all the time. 

And his scars…those ugly faults that become medals of honor when blessed by your holy caress. God only knows how you manage to soothe the discolored purple of his bruises into a dark cherry. And he had never noticed how the pale pink of his autopsy scar complimented his cool undertones under you had given him a wine-fueled verbal dissertation on why he looked so good in red.

You reach the end of the poem and Jason’s chest constricts with dreadful anticipation for you to say something. However, your gaze goes back to the start. Of course it is, of course you’re reading this stupid sonnet with care and attention. For someone who throws caution to the wind with her own words, you’re painstakingly analytical about everyone else’s. Jason adores that about you until it’s him pinned under your microscope.

He's predicted the next movement of masked criminals based on the quiver of a nerve without breaking a sweat. For whatever reason, his skills mean nothing when it comes to you. He tries to analyze your face, but it’s so furrowed in concentration. Your eyes are flitting back and forth between verses, breaking everything down.

Fuck, he’s an idiot. You have an allergy to compliments and he’s just given you a damn book oversaturated with them. You must be uncomfortable, you look uncomfortable. This is too intense for you. It's too much all at once. It's suffocating. Embarrassing. Needy.

Why can't he just be normal? He's scared you off. This is why he can't be in relationships. He can't not fuck it up. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck!

“It's like the most basic one after the one about a summer's day," he mumbles. At this point he's kneading a sore in the nape of his neck. "I know, it's-"

"It's beautiful," you correct whatever he was about to say. You finally raise your head and your eyes are misty. He straightens his spine as he realizes he’s made you cry. "It's really beautiful, Jaybird. It's..."

You draw your arms into your side. You're getting shy on him.

"What is it?"

But he's not much braver.

"Is this...Why did you pick this one?"

“I…What do you mean?” he asks dumbly.

You shift, looking down at the sonnet, “It’s just that you said in the inscription, ‘to my Sonnet 29.’ What’s special about this one?”

HIs cheeks burn something fierce. He has no good answer. Well, he does, but you’re going to think it’s stupid, "It just...it, y'know, it stuck out to me."

You peer back at him with that laser sharp precision, “Why?” 

“Why?” he repeats, leaning forward like he hadn’t heard you correctly. You nod, cocking an eyebrow like you’re suspicious of his intentions. He trips over his tongue as he tries to come up with some nonchalant answer, “it’s just…it’s, like, really iconic, y’know-”

“Do you like me?” you ask suddenly. There’s an insecure waver in your voice. 

Jason blinks. 

“Do I like you?” It’s a stupid question. He’s shocked you even have to ask. No shit he likes you. He adores you. He loves you. “Of course, I like you. You’re my Valentine, of course, I like you.” 

“I’m…yours?”

His heart races. It’s been so long since he actually did this.

“Would you like to be?”

You immediately open your mouth, but your answer hesitates on your honeyed lips.

Cruel cold doom spreads through Jason’s chest, icing over all the joy he just felt. You’re going to tell him no. You’re going to tell him no and he’s going to have to live with that.

But instead you say, “Are you being serious?”

You’re scared. He’s scared you. He doesn’t dare speak, doesn’t risk a tone. He nods slowly, holding your gaze.

“Because I do want to be yours. I want you. I-I…I really like you,” you continue with a slight shake. “But I just have to make sure that you’re one hundred percent sure that you want me. Like really want me. Like in this poem.”

You’ve never been this vulnerable without the influence of substances. He has to take a moment to admire your bravery. When it first became clear that this relationship warranted more than sex, you would’ve rather died than be this open. If you’re being this honest with him, then he owes it to you to do the same. 

After all, he’s already let you this far into his life. He’s already told you he’s the Red Hood. He’s already shown you every inch of his body. He’s already given a book of sonnets. 

“If I didn’t want you, I wouldn’t have given you that poem. Fuck, baby, I wouldn’t even be here with you right now,” he swears. He gently takes the book from you and wraps his hands around yours. His palms cover the backs of your hands completely, calluses on lotioned knuckles. Just touching you made him softer. If only you could see yourself the way he sees you. 

When you drop your eyes to your lap, he keeps going, “Look, I know I’m not Shakespeare and I’m not…great at being romantic. But I don’t get close to people very often. I definitely don’t get this close to anyone ever. I don’t even do hook-ups, but from that first night in that bar, I knew there was something special about you. I…” 

“But why? I mean,” you shift uncomfortably. “I’m mean. I’m not even nice to you when all you do is tell me I’m beautiful and give me fucking sonnets. So why-” your voice catches in your throat and you blink rapidly, as if to hold back tears. “I just…I’m not worth more than the sex, Jay.” 

For a fleeting moment, Jason congratulates himself on picking the right Valentine’s present. You really do get each other. However, the horror that you aren’t feeling the same relief keeps him from preening. 

“No, no, no, baby,” he shakes his head vigorously. “You-” he lets go of your hands. “Are-” he grips your hips. “The light-” he pulls you into his lap, wrapping his arms around your waist. “Of my life.” 

You sniffle as you roll your eyes, “Don’t be cheesy.” 

Jason snorts, hugging you close to his chest, “I’ll be as cheesy as I want.” 

He kisses your cheek and when it makes you smile, he kisses your nose, then all the way down both sides of your jawline. He catches either corner of your lips before leaning you back to shower your neck, basking in the way your throat vibrates with laughter. 

“‘Cause,” he continues, cupping the back of your head. “It’s Valentine’s and the most beautiful girl in the world is crying ‘cause she doesn’t know how beautiful she is. Or how she’s made an amateur romantic out of scraggly old miser.” 

He grazes his teeth along the crook of your neck, groaning as his crooked nose brushes against where you sprayed your perfume this morning. “I think about you every second of the day. I count down the minutes until I get to see you again. There are days where the thought of coming home to you keeps me going through the worst kind of bullshit. Because when I’m with you, life is worth living - just like the sonnet said. You make everything worth it because you are worth everything.” 

You let out a tiny gasp when Jason rolls you onto your back. His biceps flex as he hoists himself on top of you and bends his elbows to trail his reddening lips down the v plunge of your shirt. The medallion sits heavy on your bra line. You can feel its coolness seep through your shirt, if only because it’s such a stark difference from his body heat.

“Haply I think on thee, and then my state,” he recites between the kisses he’s leaving on your collarbone. “Like to the lark at the break of day arising.”

You give him a full belly laugh and it’s the most lovely sound he’s ever heard. Now he lets himself preen, rubbing his cheek along the green stitches dotting your neckline. 

“I like who I am when I’m with you,” he hums along your sternum. He can’t believe how easy these words are coming to him. “I like having something to feel happy about all the time. I like you.”

“Even when I’m mean to you?” You whisper cautiously.

He repositions himself to rest his forehead against yours, “You’re not mean.” 

“Yes, I am-” you protest, but Jason’s having none of it. 

“No, you’re not. You’re a little snarky, but it’s sexy as hell,” he says. “But yes, I like you even when you’re snarky. Especially when you’re snarky.”

He kisses you again, deeper this time. He lavishes your favored lip, setting a comfortable rhythm. You wrap your arms around his neck and pull his body flush against yours. Manicured nails comb through the base of his hair, the way only you know he likes it. A large hand cups your cheek, a thick thumb stroking your cheekbone because only he knows how it makes you purr. 

“Like to the lark at the break of day arising,” he croons when he comes up for air, pink mouth newly adorned with gloss. “From sullen earth sings hymns at Heaven’s gate.”

“For thy sweet love remembered such wealth brings,” you pick up, taking a moment to admire the silver pendant hanging in your face before tangling your fingers in the chain and tugging your man back to you. 

You sink into each other with ease. Your touch exchanges a thousand sonnets without speaking a single word. Maybe he didn’t buy the book for the flowers or the drawing or your desire to read. Maybe he bought it because the universe saw a chance for him to tell you the things he can’t quite say himself.

“That I scorn to change my state with kings.” 

[wangxianficfinder]

In the mood for...

Apr 21st

~*~

1. This is for ItMf: I'd really like to read well-written fics where WWX defends LWJ or is protective in situations where LWJ is gossiped about or spoken badly about. Fics like Make This Chaos Count. Can be AU or canon-verse. Bonus points for lwj knowing or overhearing wwx defending him

seeds by antebunny (G, 3k, WangXian, SS & LWJ, Canon Divergence, Fix-It, Identity Porn, Dramatic Irony, identity theft, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, the Inherent Romance of Being Known, BAMF WWX, protective boyfriend WWX, simp LWJ)

Rumor Doesn’t Have It (But Wei Wuxian Is Determined to Change That) by misscam (M, 4k, WangXian, Humor, Post-Canon)

🔒 Life is Like a Stranger by through_shadows_falling (T, 69k, WangXian, Kid Fic, Child LWJ, Child WWX, First Meetings, Canon Divergence, Cute Kids, Orphan WWX, Autism Spectrum, Fix-It, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, POV LWJ, Growing Up Together, WWX raised at Cloud Recesses, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Puberty, Growing Up, Coming Out, teenage angst, Wet Dream, Pining, Slow Burn, Friends to Lovers, Brief mentions/moments of WWX kissing others in chapter 22 but only on the cheek, also characters kiss WWX on the cheek in chapter 23, but his real first kiss is with LWJ)

Blooming Days by Atsushiis (G, 7k, WangXian, LWJ & LXC, LWJ & MM, Modern, College/University, Meet-Cute, First Dates, First Kiss, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, LWJ Has Feelings, Let LWJ talk about his feelings agenda, Romance, Falling In Love, Wangxian are softer than a baby bunny, gratuitous handholding, Give LWJ hugs agenda, LWJ Protection Squad)

~*~

2. hiiiiiii any fics where wwx gets along with/is close with lxc or lqr (especially lxc)? @ashxi-wx

The Threads of Fate by WaitForTheSnitch (E, 190k, WIP, WangXian, Time Travel Fix-It, Canon Divergence, Somebody Lives/Not Everyone Dies, Cloud Recesses Study Arc, Cloud Recesses Shenanigans, Good Uncle LQR, Protective LWJ, WangXian Get a Happy Ending, Pining LWJ, WWX in WWX’s Body, JC & WWX Reconciliation, Oblivious WWX, Siblings JC & WWX, Supportive JYL, Protective NHS, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Comic Book Science)

Righteous at a Cost by thunderwear (G, 21k, wangxian, LQR & WWX, Canon Divergence, Fix-It, no one dies, LQR finds out about WWX’s core, WWX and LQR are friends??, In My Fic?, its more likely than you think, LWJ in the bg like whats happening?, Fluff, WWX goes to Gusu, Mutual Pining, Golden Core Reveal)

Of Pining, Obliviousness and Failed Seclusions (Or How Gusu Lan Sect Almost Got Eight New Sect Rules) by misscam (G, 3k, WangXian, Post-Canon, CQL and novel mix, Spoilers)

🔒💖 Hoards and treasures by apathyinreverie (T, 21k, WangXian, Siblings, Family, not particularly Jiang friendly, YZY Bashing, slightly darker Gusu Lans, LXC being the best brother, Some manipulation, But with the best of intentions, and not between wangxian, Dragon LWJ, Fox WWX, Smitten LWJ, Fluff, perfect happiness, adorable WWX, Romance, Some worldbuilding, courting)

🔒 Smile for Me by kuro (T, 9k, WangXian, Fluff, Jealousy, Modern, College/University, Bicycles, Coffee, Siblings)

Always the right way round by so_shhy (G, 3k, WangXian, LXC & LWJ, Modern, Fluff, LWJ Loves Rabbits, Office Party, LXC is a Good Big Brother, WWX is an excellent boyfriend, POV Outsider)

Lessons relearned by Iamnotawriter (T, 44k, WangXian, LQR & WWX, Not Madam Yu Friendly, Time Travel Fix-It, Angst with a Happy Ending, Canon-Typical Violence, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Inventor WWX, It Gets Worse Before It Gets Better, No Golden Core Transfer, YZY Bashing)

🧡 All will be well when the day is done by abCEE (T, 76k, WangXIan, Canon Divergence, Fix It, Not Jiang Family Friendly, JFM & YZY Bashing, Fix it for our main characters, Time Travel, Butterfly Effect, Madam Lan Lives, No Sunshot Campaign, Artistic License, Unreliable Narrator, JC Bashing, non-yunmeng WWX, Accidental Baby Acquisition, Good Uncle LQR, OOC, WangXian Get a Happy Ending, WWX gets the love and care that he deserves from the very beginning, WWX Isn't Adopted by the Jiangs, verbal and physical (c/o Zidian) abuse from YZY)

What Becomes of the Melting Snow? Series by Admiranda (T, 7k, WWX & LXC, Post-Canon, Canon Compliant, Supportive LXC, LXC putting in his character development, Supportive Sibling LXC, WWX and LXC are brothers-in-law, Post canon, a long overdue apology)

Discordant Rhapsody by nirejseki (T, 49k, LQR & WWX, wangxian, JC & WWX, WQ & WWX & WN, LWJ & LQR & LXC, canon divergence, fix-it, hurt/comfort, trauma, politics, protective LQR, protective LWJ, protective WWX, LQR centric, whump, angst)

The Beast of Gusu series by Netrixie (T&M, 212k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Wolf WWX, Slow Burn, Fluff and Angst, Eventual Happy Ending)

💖 Light Source by abCEE (M, 31k, wangxian, not Jiang friendly, no golden core transfer, fall of the jiang sect, happy ending)

~*~

3. Hi Mods! I'm in the mood for a fic with sugar daddy!LWJ. It doesn't have to be formal. Just vibes will do. I just want a fic with LWJ spoiling a downtrodden WWX. @themlb37

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

🔒 Where You Fell by Sweet_William (E, 303k, wangxian, 3zun, NHS/JC, JYL/JZX, Modern, Angst, Mutual Pining, Homeless, Getting Together, Slow Burn, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, accidental sugar daddy LWJ, Suicidal Thoughts, Self-Esteem Issues, Coffee Shops & Cafés, Autistic Character, WWX Has ADHD, Panic Attacks, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Sex Work, Implied/Referenced Substance Abuse, Eventual Happy Ending)

🔒 Lost Boys - The light that he brings by raitala (E, 106k, WangXian, LSZ & WWX, LSZ & LWJ, Modern, Kid Fic, Emotional Baggage, LWJ is on the Asexuality Spectrum, Neurodivergent LWJ, Hurt/Comfort, sugar daddy LWJ, LSZ is the bestest boi, LWJ is trying his best, WWX needs a hug, background societal homophobia, Grief/Mourning, Under-negotiated Kink, Dom/sub Undertones, Mild Painplay, Sharing a Bed, Family Feels, Nice LQR, Adoption, Oral Sex, Anal Sex, Spit Kink, Slow Burn)

Wei Ying it’s cold outside… by Liebing (T, 4k, WangXian, Fluffy, Modern, They were neighbours, Cute, WWX is always cold, LWJ worries, winter feels, Soft, Misunderstandings, accidental sugar daddy, Getting Together, Enemies to Lovers, WWX likes being a sugar baby but feels sorta bad about it, LWJ really likes being a sugar daddy but feels bad about it, wangxian being idiots as usual, WQ is the best bff, Swearing, WQ will dick punch anyone who disses WWX, Sweet)

Eat the rich (start with me) by deliciousblizzardshark (T, 7k, WangXian, Modern, College/University, Sugar Daddy LWJ, Soft LWJ, Mildly Dubious Consent, Oblivious WWX, Pining, Crack, Domestic Fluff, Poor WWX, Roommates, Spanish Translation, Podfic & Podficced Works, Podfic, Podfic Length: 30-45 Minutes)

something just like this by ThirtySixSaveFiles (E, 2k, WangXian, Intercrural Sex, Thighfucking, Semi-Public Sex, Exhibitionism, (kind of), I cannot emphasize enough how much LWJ is flying by the seat of his pants here, or the seat of WWX’s, also don’t do this, there is no tip big enough to cover this sorry LWJ, Mirror Sex, Modern, lwj’s sugar daddy tendencies give me life)

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

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

Stray Cat by Surprised_by_witches (E, 148k, WangXian, Modern AU, Dealing With Trauma, Angst, Depression, OCD, Past Drug Use, Non-Binary NHS, Brief suicide ideation, Slow Burn, Self-Harm, Past Child Abuse)

~*~

4. Fics where lan wangji has a sweet tooth? doesn't have to be a big plot point (if Sex happens please be top LWJ/bttm WWX only!! Thank you)

the secret ingredient by queen_gee (T, 8k, wangxian, modern, colllege/university au, tooth-rotting fluff ;), baking, idiots in love, pining, light angst)

As You Like It by cosmicmilktea (T, 8k, wangxian, post-canon, food as a metaphor for love, tea, light angst, fluff)

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5. Itmf I would like to read some canon divergence story which is focused on Nie Huaisang and/or his friendship with Wei Wuxian. Even friednship with Lan Zhan is great. I just like fics where others realise Huaisang's brilliant mind and don't underestimate him anymore.

🔒 If you liked it then you should have put a (sect robe) on it by KizuKatana (T, 49k, WangXian, WWX & NHS, Canon divergent after Cloud Recesses lectures, Public humiliation (not the sexy kind), Sect posturing, no golden core transfer, Madam Yu and JFM’s A+ Sect Leadership, WWX joins the Nie)

smoke and mirrors by via_the_cryptid (M, 33k, NHS & NMJ, NHS & WWX, NMJ & WWX, JC & WWX, Hostage Situations, Canon Divergence, BAMF NHS, NHS Knows Everything, NHS & WWX Friendship, NHS Loves NMJ, NMJ Lives, Disfigurement, Dismemberment, Torture, Aftermath of Torture, Whump, Imprisonment, Sunshot Campaign, Introspection, POV NHS, NHS-centric, NHS Needs a Hug, Scheming NHS, Dark JGY, Minor Character Death, mind the tags please, NHS Wields Battle Fans, Hurt No Comfort (for now), Angst with a Happy Ending, Fix-It of Sorts, Not Everyone Dies, No Golden Core Transfer, Pre-NHS/WN, Protective WN, Corpse Desecration, Protective NMJ, NMJ Needs a Hug, Supportive LXC, BAMF WWX, NMJ Loves NHS, Hurt/Comfort, Canon-Typical Violence, Qishan Wen Indoctrination, BAMF WN, Cinnamon Roll WN, Protective NHS, NHS is a Little Shit, WWX really just takes everything in stride doesn't he, Stressed NMJ, Good Older Sibling NMJ, WRH Dies, bit of crack tbh, JC has no idea what the fuck is going on, LXC Needs a Hug, Stressed LXC)

My heart knows (you’re the missing piece) by makexianxianhappytoday (T, 73k, wangxian, WWX & Jiang family, BSSR & WWX, canon divergence, rogue cultivator WWX, not Jiang friendly, protective LWJ, butterfly effect, no golden core transfer, WIP)

Green-gege Saves a lot of Lives by Eternal_writes (T, 11k, WangXian, WQ & WWX, WN & WWX, YLLZ WWX, Burial Mounds Settlement Days, Burial Mounds Ensemble as Family, Wen Remnants Live, Everyone Lives, Fix-It, Soft NMJ, POV NMJ, POV WWX, Supportive NMJ, Protective NMJ, NMJ solves all the problems unintentionally, NHS Knows Everything, NHS’s spies are talked about alot, NHS manipulates from the shadows like the best friend he fucking is, NHS & WWX Friendship, Sworn Brothers NHS& WWX & WN, BSSR makes a small appearance at the very end, Immortal BSSR is the best grandmother, Golden Core Reveal, JC & WWX Reconciliation, Good Sibling JC, Soft JC, WangXian Get a Happy Ending, WWX Lives, WWX Loves LWJ, WWX is not as oblivious as canon, WWX gets the help he deserves and his family back, Featuring WWX’s inventions)

Story-Shaped by lingering_song (T, 13k, NHS & WWX, WangXian, Post-Canon, Chief Cultivator LWJ, Inventor WWX, Found Family, NHS needs a new hobby, And apparently that’s spoiling his Wei-Xiong, Mentioned Character Death, Alcohol, Protective NHS, WangXian Endgame, Not JC Friendly, Not particularly gentry sects friendly overall tbh)

The Wrong Man by Remma3760 (Not Rated, 125k, WangXian, Sect Leader LWJ, Evil JGS, Canon Divergence, Golden Core Reveal, Major Character Death (not Wangxian))

while covered in mud by merthurlin (T, 12k, NHS & WWX, NHS & NMJ, NHS & Wen remnants, mentioned wangxian, canon divergence, fix-it, NHS goes farming and Hates It)

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6. Hello, I am in the mood for a fic where Lan Zhan is not part of the Gusu Lan. I have read awesome fic Turn Left by kianspo (Lan Zhan growing outside of Gusu and becoming rogue cultivator) and I am looking for something similar. It's pity there is very little fics like that. We have different sects/rogue cultivator Wei Wuxian fics (I love them too) but Lan Zhan in this kind of setting is just something else and I am obssessed with the premise. No modern au.

no step had trodden black by Stratisphyre (T, 32k, WangXian, LQR & WWX, JYL/JZX, Canon Divergence, Madam Lan lives, Past Rape, Golden Core Reveal, Hurt/Comfort, References to Attempted Suicide and Suicidal Thoughts, Canon-Typical Violence, [Podfic] Cold read of no step had trodden black by kisahawklin)

My Boy Builds Coffins by enbysaurus_rex (Not Rated, 48k, WangXian, Coffin Maker AU, YLLZ WWX, Location: Yílíng, LWJ builds coffins, Autistic LWJ, falling in love over a coffin, Hurt WWX, Mutual Pining, LWJ Has Feelings, Deathscapes, Death as a bittersweet community thing, accidental ecofiction, Farmer LWJ) Lan Zhan, Lan Xichen, Lan Qiren, and their mother flee to Yiling when the boys are children. Lan Zhan discovers a penchant for coffin making.

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7. I just saw some *exquisite* artwork of bottom lan zhan and 👀 forthe next imtf: cannon bottom lan zhan but no dark romance or anything! I just want bottom lan zhan beung cuddled or soft love with wwx topping. Also, i dont mind but no abo or wip please!(sorreh if its so much!) Thank you in advance^-^ @just-troy0-0

Petrichor by SunBlueSun (E, 8k, WangXian, Top/Bottom Switch WangXian, heat exhaustion, Hurt/Comfort, Comfort Sex, Playing Doctor, Praise Kink, (mild praise kink), mention of past torture, Canon-Typical Violence, h/c meta, Autistic LWJ, Mention of switching, Dirty Talk, Soft WangXian, Cuddling & Snuggling)

Maybe You're the Reason by Clearpearls (E, 67k, wangxian, college/university au, phone sex, secret identity, praise kink, phone sex operator WWX, fluff, light angst, dirty talk, sub LWJ, bottom LWJ, slow burn, aftercare)

Far Away You Are by cqlorphan (E, 17k, WangXian, Post-Canon, Getting Together, Misunderstandings, cleared up by, juniors ensemble, Explicit Consent, Bottom LWJ, but i’m sure they switch about it, Multiple Orgasms, Fluff and Smut, with a little angst. as a treat)

call me home and I’ll build you a throne by anaphoricae (E, 51k, WangXian, Post-Canon, Post-CQL, Canon Compliant, Getting Together, Developing Relationship, Self-Indulgent, Gusu Lan Juniors Dynamics, Touch-Starved, Non-Sexual Intimacy, Sexual Intimacy, Lán Juniors Gossiping about Wangxian, Nightmares, Hurt/Comfort, Domestic Fluff, WWX Has a New Golden Core, Farmer WWX, Chief Cultivator LWJ, Mutual Pining, Communication, Quietly Falling Into a Married Life, Light Angst, Wholesome, POV LWJ, POV WWX, LWJ in braids agenda, Sharing a Bed, Semi-Public Sex, Inventor WWX, Jealous WWX)

where the chaos is by darkredloveknot (enheduane) (E, 6k, WangXian, 陈情令 | The Untamed (TV) Compliant, Post-Canon Reunions, Love Confessions, First Kiss, First Time, Emotions, WWX is overwhelmed, Domestic Bliss, Non-Sexual Intimacy, Bottom LWJ, Top WWX, Intimacy, Hair Brushing, and more!)

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8. Hi, could you please rec a fic with a WWX powerful like he is in the donghua?? I really dislike weak and frail WWX! Thank you.

Chronicles of Sect Leader Wei Wuxian by Muggle_Diary (E, 115k, WangXian, XuanLi, JFM/YZY, CSSR/WCZ, LXC/LQY, NMJ/QS, WQ/OC, OFC/ OFC, JC/ OFC, Sect Leader WWX, BAMF WWX, BAMF LWJ, Genius WWX, Inventor WWX, Different First Meeting, Canon Divergence, Minor Character Death, Anal Sex, Top LWJ/Bottom WWX, Sex Toys, Explicit Sexual Content, Sexual Tension, Implied/Referenced Sexual Assault, Rough Sex, Child Abuse, Child Death, War Hero WWX, Sunshot Campaign, No Golden Core Transfer, WWX Leaves the Yunmeng Jiang Sect, Cultivation Sect Politics, Wen Remnants Live, Abusive YZY, Abusive Jiang Family, Bad Parents JFM and YZY, JC Bashing, JFM and YZY Bashing, Yunmeng Jiang Sect Bashing, JYL and JZX Live, Jiang Family Bashing)

Watch me ignite it by tawaen (T, 10k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Everyone Lives, Except WRH but he doesn't count, POV LWJ, Cultivation World Critical, WWX Isn't Adopted by the Jiangs, Sect Leader WWX, BAMF WWX, LWJ is horny for YLLZ WWX and mad about it)

🔒 you soothe me just to torture me again by PrismaticAvocado (M, 4k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Dark WWX, Dark LWJ, Dark LSZ, Dark LXC, Dark LQR, jc is honestly not that much darker than in canon if at all, Murder Husbands, Torture, Homophobia, WangXian Get a Happy Ending, almost everyone is bashed somewhat except for wangxian and a-yuan be warned, JC Bashing, WWX Lives, BAMF WWX)

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9. Are there any fics where lan zhan marries into the jiang clan? Thanksss

use the wood brought in by the tide by Lirazel (M, 27k, WangXian, Arranged Marriage, Hurt/Comfort, Warning for Physical Abuse, Falling In Love With Your Husband, pining for your husband, Sibling solidarity, dealing with your in-laws, lwj’s typical inner maelstrom of emotions, WWX Whump, Protective!LWJ, lwj&jyl friendship, intimate hair brushing, Skinny Dipping, Growing Up, Establishing boundaries)

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10. hii this is for the itmf!! any post-canon de-aged wwx fics where wwx is de-aged to his teenage years? if post-canon is too specific it doesn’t have to be post-canon

Rewritten by yamadori (Katsumi27) (G, 6k, WangXian, JC & WWX, Age Regression/De-Aging, Emotional Hurt/Comfort) post-canon Wei Wuxian spends time as a teenager while de-aged but also goes through other ages

Glimpses Of The Past by A_simple_Cookie, GoschateWabn (G, 63k, WangXian, WIP, Age Regression/De-Aging, Good Sibling JC, YLLZ WWX, Young WWX, Childhood Memories, Fluff and Angst, Twin Prides of Yunmeng Feels, Twin Prides of Yunmeng Dynamics, LWJ Has a Yiling Laozu Kink, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Fluff and Humor, Family Bonding, Post-Canon, WWX Needs a Hug, Gremlin WWX, Hijinks & Shenanigans, beware WWX shenanigans inside) post-canon Wei Wuxian spends time as a teenager while de-aged but also goes through other ages

💖🔒Silver & Gold by beeswaxing (E, 162k, WangXian, Post-Canon, Canon Divergence, Fluff and Angst, Domestic Fluff, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Age Regression/De-Aging, Fix-It of Sorts, Post-Canon Fix-It, Family Bonding, Established Relationship, Cuddling & Snuggling, Non-Sexual Intimacy, Literal Sleeping Together, Romance, BAMF WWX, Mutual Pining, Horny Teenagers, Underage Kissing, Protective WWX)

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11. in the mood for nie or jin time travel? @personontheswing

playing the fool by via_the_cryptid (T, 18k, WangXian, BAMF NHS, NHS Knows Everything, Time Travel Fix-It, for nhs at least, NHS-centric, Scheming NHS, Protective NMJ, NMJ Lives, WWX Lives, WangXian Get a Happy Ending, Protective LWJ, Protective NHS, JYL and JZX Live, JYL Knows Everything, Canon Divergence, NHS & WWX Friendship, POV NHS)

Third Sun by PhantomWriter (T, 57k, NHS & NMJ, Canon Divergence, Time Travel Fix-It, Fake Marriage, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Crack Treated Seriously, BAMF NHS, Protective NHS, Protective NMJ, Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, LWJ is a Wēn)

🔒💖 The Echoes of that News Ring Loud by Scarlet_Gryphon (T, 111k, 3zun, SangNing, XuanLi, WangXian, WQ/Second Madam Mo, Time Travel Fix-it, NMJ Lives, WWX Raised by a Different sect, Based in CQL/Fatal Journey 'Verse, Temporary character death, (but they get better), Canon-Typical Violence, Canon-Typical Behavior, Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Good Guy XY, Gray-Ace power trio 3Zun, Canon Divergence, brief and non-graphic discussion of past rape/non-con due to QS's origins, Mentions of Nightmares, Minor Character Death, Happy Ending)

Mo XuanYu’s Bewildering Re-Start by MarbleGlove (T, 9k, MXY & WWX, WWX & WQ, WangXian, Suicide Attempt, Unreliable Narrator, because individuals have imperfect knowledge of the world, Time Travel Fix-It)

This Time Around by KouriArashi (T, 83k, JGY & NHS, NHS & WWX, JGY & WWX, Time Travel Fix-It, Kid Fic, Families of Choice, Angst, Grief/Mourning, Politics, Class Issues, Past Child Abuse, Moral Ambiguity, Everybody Lives, Eventual Happy Ending)

with best intentions by dandelion_weed (T, 22k, NMJ/WWX, WangXian, Time Travel, Canon Divergence, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Arranged Marriage, Everyone is an unreliable narrator, the terrible affair of falling in love with your betrothed, Eventual love triangle, Ambiguous/Open Ending, Engagement)

🔒 无别无离 | Without Farewells, Without Parting by dragongirlG (M, 30k, Junior Quartet, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Time Travel, Fix-It of Sorts, Burial Mounds Settlement Days, POV Alternating, Jin Ling’s Hundredth Day Celebration, qiongqi path, Family Feels, Hopeful Ending)

With you, I can fight the World by Weiyingbestboy (G, 2k, WangXian, JYL/JZX, JC & WWX & JYL, JZX & WWX, Everyone Lives, Time Travel Fix-It, Canon Divergence, JC is so done, JZX and WWX Friendship)

Time, Time, Time by skeletonofaplant (G, 44k, wangxian, JYL/JZX, LSZ & WWX, JYL & JL & JZX, LJY & LSZ, Time Travel Fix-It, Burial Mounds Settlement Days, Identity Porn, Identity Reveal, Angst, Fluff, Junior Quartet Dynamics, Time Travelling Junior Ensemble, Junior Ensemble Shenanigans, Humor)

The Threads of Fate by WaitForTheSnitch (E, 190k, WIP, WangXian, Time Travel Fix-It, Canon Divergence, Somebody Lives/Not Everyone Dies, Cloud Recesses Study Arc, Cloud Recesses Shenanigans, Good Uncle LQR, Protective LWJ, WangXian Get a Happy Ending, Pining LWJ, WWX in WWX’s Body, JC & WWX Reconciliation, Oblivious WWX, Siblings JC & WWX, Supportive JYL, Protective NHS, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Comic Book Science)

Nie Huaisang's Ten Steps to Fix The Fucked Up Reality by cosmic_zephyr (astralcelestia) (T, 62k, WangXian, JC & WWX & JYL, NHS & NMJ, NHS & WWX, WWX & WN, WWX & WQ, WIP, Canon Divergence, Scheming, Time Travel Fix-It, Not Everyone Dies, BAMF WWX, BAMF WQ, BAMF NHS, BAMF LWJ, Wangxian are something but no one knows what yet, A lot of character bashing, Some gets redemption, WQ suddenly has FOUR brothers and TWO sisters, Manipulation, Spanish Translation, Nothing goes according to his plan, but are we surprised, like look at this partners, it was bound to be a mess#)

In My Defence, I Have None (For Never Leaving Well Enough Alone) by SemiLocalCryptid (T, 73k, WangXian, WIP, Time Travel Fix-It, Established Relationship, BAMF WWX, BAMF LWJ, POV NHS, but only for the first chapter, POV Alternating, between Wei WuXian and Lan WangJi for the rest, WWX may have no sense of self preservation but he does have a husband, No one touches LWJ’s husband, NHS has no more fucks to give and will save his brother just watch him, WN is very confused about needing to breathe again, but is ultimately happy about it, BAMF WN, WN needs a hug, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, WQ is a queen and everyone should fear her, Fluff, Inventor WWX, Gratuitous amounts of Wangxian fluff)

In Defence of Murder by WhiteWitchDark (T, 18k, WangXian, NHS & NMJ, Hurt/Comfort, Time Travel, Angst)

And They Lived Happily Ever After… by Morgana_avalon (G, 51k, WangXian, JL/LSZ, JC/WQ, JYL/JZX, JC & WWX, A-Yuan living with his family at the Burial Mounds, Time Travel Fix-It, JL gets his happy ending, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Taking care of WWX; LJY grows an attitude, set before the ambush happens at Qiongqi Path, Canon Divergence, Bunnies, LWJ will always protect WWX, Good brother JC, Good JZX, LWJ can heal WWX's injuries as it is AU, WWX is pardonned, Wen Survivors are offered a way out)

~*~

12. Hiii I'm back <3 I recently read 'reports of my heterosexuality may have been exaggerated' by sysrae and it's so got me itmf anything with lwj assuming he's straight or ace, then encountering wwx and having to go home and 'google am I gay' 'google how to tell if gay' 'google straight or gay quiz.' It's always Straight Boy Wei Ying but I'm itmf Straight Boy Lan Zhan <3 @peebls

🔒 The Second Jade of Lan’s late but incendiary sexual awakening by KizuKatana (E, 41k, wangxian, First Time, LWJ’s Horny Grip,LWJ does not know what hit him, and yet somehow he still realizes it before WWX, canon wangxian dynamics, college AU, LWJ starts off annoyed at WWXBut quickly discovers both his competency kink and a caretaking kink, Genius WWX) I don’t think Lan Wangji does a Google search or takes any quizzes in these but he definitely experiences a gay awakening in them.

🔒 Hide Away by sassybluee (E, 19k, WangXian, Modern AU, Modern: No Powers, Compulsory Heterosexuality, Homophobia, Internalized Homophobia, straight boy WWX, straight boy LWJ, everyone’s convinced they’re straight tbh, LWJ FUCKS, WWX fucks, referenced but not shown for both of those, Reality TV, Love Island, Slow Burn, Getting Together, Drunk kiss, Shower Sex, Ambiguous/Open Ending, POV Alternating)

🔒 I might be what you're looking for by KizuKatana (E, 18k, WangXian, Canon Divergent, Modern Cutivation, BAMF LWJ, BAMF WWX, LWJ is nearly immortal, sexual awakening for LWJ, LWJ has a BIG... golden core, LWJ also has a big dick, Acts-like-a-twink-but-is-actually-exceedingly-dangerous WWX, marathon fucking, Qi fucking, First Time, after killing a powerful demon WWX is not quite human anymore, and LWJ is Into That)

~*~

13. Itmf wangxian fics that have similar vibes/plot to modern c-dramas? Especially any type that has to do with some sort of revenge or secret identity

we’ll get him falling for a stranger (or a catfish) by sweetlolixo (T, 38k, WangXian, Modern AU, College AU, Catfish AU, Eventual Happy Ending, Crossdressing WWX, Rich heir LWJ gets catfished by pretty WWX online that’s it that’s the fic, Pining LWJ, Fluff, Humor, lwj is a grade A+ SIMP, Identity Porn)

Crazy, Rich Cultivators by ShanaStoryteller (Not rated, 13k, WangXian, Modern Cultivation, Idiots in Love, Misunderstandings, POV LWJ, īthis started as a crazy rich asians au but quickly got away from me, light moments of angst but mostly shenanigans)

silhouettes to steal this night by moonsteps (T, 51k, WangXian, Modern, Assassins & Hitmen, Roommates, Rivals to Lovers, Fluff and Angst, Identity Porn, Violence, Blood and Injury, Mutual Pining, Slow Burn, Secret Identity)

~*~

14. Thanks for the hard work you do for our Fandom ❤️❤️ . I have an itmf request. Fics where Xichen alone or with Jiang Cheng time travels to the past and does something good for their brothers. Plz a complete fic and preferably a bigger one (not a oneshot)

🔒 Alternative Choices by StarClearWaters (Readoutloud) (T, 20k, WangXian, LXC/WQ, Time Travel, LXC pov, Protective LXC, Temporary Character Death, Butterfly Effect, Mpreg, Panic Attacks) However, the changes Lan Xichen makes are done to protect Lan Zhan from Wei Ying, at least at first.

🔒💖 The blame game by apathyinreverie (T, 13k, WangXian, LXC & LWJ, LSZ & WWX, WWX & WQ, LXC & WWX, Fix-It, Time Travel, LXC time travels, Canon Divergence, Possessive LWJ, Oblivious WWX, Fluff, Siblings, Romance, Golden Core Reveal Golden Core Fix-It, crack-y idea taking itself far too seriously) I can only think of the blame game for 14, which is unfortunately a one shot

~*~

15. Any fics where teenji makes teenxian cry and PANICS ?

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16. Hi, love that you guys are still doing the good work for the WangXian fans. I've read through your fic compilations for WangXian crossovers that were not including SVSSS, TGCF, WOH, Guardian and everything on it. Since it's been a while, are there any new crossover fics for WangXian that fulfil the criteria above?

as the tree, so the fruit by jalpari (T, 11k, WangXian, Ji Chong (The Wolf TV)/Xie Yun (Bandits), Crossover Pairings, Married WangXian Have Children, AU where LWJ and WWX have a son and his name is Xie Yun, They say you date someone like your parent, The question is which one)

🔒 by the grace of the fire and the flames by ShippersList (M, 56k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Pacific Rim Fusion, Canon Era, Kaiju, Burial Mounds Settlement Days, Permanent Injury, Not Everyone Dies, Golden Core Reveal, Genius WWX, Dual Cultivation, Drift Compatibility, Saving the World, POV LWJ, Protective LWJ, Cultivation Sect Politics, BAMF WWX, Yunmeng Siblings Feels, Angst with a Happy Ending, WWX Has a New Golden Core)

Don't bore us, take it to the chorus. by Marzennya (E, 41k, WangXian, WWX/Everyone, WWX & WQ, JC & WWX, JYL & WWX, WQ/JC, The Bachelorette Fusion, Crack Treated Seriously, Fluff and Crack, Comedy of Errors, Possessive LWJ, Attractive WWX, Canon Divergence, Pining WangXian, Good Sibling JC, Protective JC, Awesome WQ, WWX in WWX's Body, Dry Orgasm, Golden Core Transfer Fix-It, Inappropriate Use of Gusu Lan Forehead Ribbon, LWJ and WWX Have a Breeding Kink, Genderplay, Nepali WWX, we fuckin a golden core back in babeyy, Slightly Calamitous Beauty WWX, Marriage Competition)

Hear This Song and Remember by TentativeTreason (G, 7k, WangXian, WWX & Junior ensemble, Amnesiac WWX, Inspired by Anastasia (1997 & Broadway), Anastasia (1997 & Broadway) Fusion, WWX is Anastasia, Post-Canon, Junior Quartet Dynamics, LWJ Loves WWX, Pining LWJ, Good Sibling LXC, Idiots in Love, WWX Has Memory Issues)

kindred spirits by Lady_of_the_Spirit (G, 1k, Alicent Hightower & JGY, Crossover, Borderline crack, tired alicent hightower, Tired JGY, deliberately somewhat ooc so these two can have a venting session)

Previously, on LEGO Masters by trippednfell (M, 55k, wangxian, Reality TV Show Contestants/Judges, Modern, Mutual Pining, Forced to compete together, strangers to reality show contestants to lovers, there’s only one bed, Platonic Cuddling, Autistic LWJ, WWX Has ADHD, Grief/Mourning, Wangxian miss their moms, so much pining, More Pining than LEGO in this LEGO fic, Additional Warnings In Author’s Note, POV Alternating, Lego Masters AU, Not YZY friendly, Dysfunctional Jiang family dynamics)

radical acceptance by Theolyss (Not Rated, 4k, A-Qing/OC, SL/XXC/XY, Addams Family Fusion, Meeting the Family, the family is messed up, No Lesbians Die)

The Dawn of Our Lives by Catherine_Watson (T, 2k, JC/Pian Ran, Romance, Drama, Xianxia, Crossover)

🔒 the moon is still the same by mattygroves (T, 3k, WangXian, James T. Kirk/Spock, CSSR/WCZ, Reincarnation, but hand-wavy, Getting Together, ancient ritual space, Star Trek Fusion, i'm picturing the strange new worlds enterprise, because WQ deserves the fancy med bay)

The Trouble With Trills by DizziDreams (E, 18k, WangXian, WIP, Star Trek Fusion, Deep Space Nine, whistleblowing, Identity Issues, lots of identity fuckery related to trill symbionts, this one might hurt a little, Character Death, Eventual Smut, Memory Loss, no star trek knowledge necessary, but some extra fun for those who do know it)

Waiting for you, here is my soul by Anonymous (T, 9k, WIP, LWJ & Gūsū Lán Disciple(s), WangXian, LXC/JGY, LXC & LWJ, LSZ & WWX & LWJ, Reincarnation, Time Travel Fix-It, Canon Divergence, Past Jason Grace/Piper McLean, Jason Grace Lives, Slow Burn, Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Kid Fic, Gods & Goddesses, Rick Riordan Demigod Universe | Riordanverse, The Burning Maze (Trials of Apollo) Spoilers)

Your Spike, With love by meowingmoons (T, 12k, JC/LXC, Modern, Crossover, Volleyballsetter JC, middle blocker LXC, captain LXC, KuroKen, JC as Kenma, LXC as Kuroo, Volleyball Dorks in Love, Falling In Love, Friends to Lovers, Childhood Friends, Haikyuu Crossover, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, LXC is So Whipped, Sports)

~*~

17. Hello, could you recommend fics where WY became disabled in modern world and was abandoned by Jiangs because he is no longer useful (e.g. no walking, serious permanent injury that requires constant care) and maybe no close relationship with wens. Just lz meets wy

Thank you!

🔒 Step by step by apathyinreverie (T, 12k, WangXian, LXC & LWJ, WWX & LSZ & LWJ, WWX & WQ, JFM and YZY Bashing, not particularly Jiang family friendly, Guilt, Fluff, past angst, Flashbacks, Protective LWJ, Soft WWX, adorable a-yuan, Friendship, Family, Getting Together, Established Relationship, Hurt/Comfort, basically organ donation as the modern day equivalent of the core transfer, and wwx not having entirely recovered, Modern, Domestic WangXian, Domestic Fluff)

~*~

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!***

[thefloatingstone]

"And Then There was Silence" by Blind Guardian is a 14 minute song that documents the events of the Iliad poem by Homer.

Although the song shifts POVs multiple times throughout it, it's meant to represent the Prophet Cassandra's premonition of the fall of Troy.

Somebody actually combined the song with lyrics on screen with the movie "TROY" which is NOT a good movie (if only because it completely leaves out a lot of the gay relationships of the original) but it helps explains the lyrics within context of the Iliad itself.

The OP says: "The lyrics also mention some scenes from the Trojan cycle which did not make it into the movie. Most notably, these are the sacrifice of Iphigenia (1:21) and the Judgment of Paris (5:16). I considered using classical paintings and mosaics to illustrate these scenes, but in the end I decided to keep a more consistent imagery by only using scenes from the movie."

Lyrics in text below the cut because it's FOURTEEN MINUTES LONG

Turn your head and see the fields of flame

He carries along From a distant place, he's on his way He'll bring decay (Don't move along cause things they will go wrong The end is getting closer day by day) In shades of grey We're doomed to face the night Light's out of sight

Since we've reached the point of no return We pray for starlight, we wait for the moon The sky is empty, alone in the unknown We're getting nowhere

We have been betrayed by the wind and the rain The sacred halls empty and cold The sacrifice made should not be done in vain Revenge will be taken by Rome

We live a lie Under the dying moon Pale faced laughs doom Indulges in delight It's getting out of hand The final curtain will fall Hear my voice There is no choice There's no way out You'll find out

We don't regret it So many men have failed, but now he's gone Go out and get it The madman's head, it shall be thine We don't regret it That someone else dies hidden in disguise Go out and get it Orion's hound shines bright

Don't you think it's time to stop the chase Around the ring Just stop running, running Round the ring Don't you know that fate has been decided By the gods Feel the distance, distance Out of reach

Welcome to the end Watch your step, Cassandra, you might fall As I've stumbled on the field Sister mine Find myself in darkest places Find myself drifting away (Death's a certain thing) And the otherworld, the otherworld appears

Find myself, she dies in vain Cannot be freed, I'm falling down As time runs faster, moves towards disaster The ferryman will wait for you, my dear

And then there was silence Just a voice from the otherworld Like a leaf in an icy world Memories will fade

Misty tales and poems lost All the bliss and beauty will be gone May my weary soul find release for a while At the moment of death I will smile It's the triumph of shame and disease In the end (Iliad)

Raise my hands and praise the day Break the spell, show me the way In decay The flame of Troy will shine bright

The newborn child would carry ruin to the hall The newborn's death will be a blessing to us all

Good choice, bad choice? Out of three you've choosen misery Power and wisdom you deny Bad choice, bad choice War is the only answer When love will conquer fear

So the judgment's been made To the fairest, the graceful says Badly he fails

(Warning) Fear the heat of passion, father king Don't let him in, don't let her in Desire, lust, obssession, death they'll bring We can't get out once they are in

She's like the sunrise Outshines the moon at night Precious like starlight She'll bring in a murderous price

In darkness grows the seed of man's defeat Jealousy I can clearly see the end now I can clearly see the end now I can clearly see the end now

The thread of life is spun The coin's been placed below my tongue Never give up, never give in Be on our side so we can win Never give up, never give in Be on our side

Old moon's time is soon to come

Nowhere to run, nowhere to hide Nothing to lose, like one we'll stand We'll face the storm created by man

Roar, Roar, Roar, Roar

(Troy, Troy, Troy, Troy) And as the lion slaughters man I am the wolf and you're the lamb

Hallowed Troy shall fall Round the wall Faith is shattered, bodies fall

Nowhere to run, nowhere to hide Nothing to lose, like one we'll stand It's all for one and one for all All we live for will be wiped out

I feel that something's wrong Surprise, surprise they're gone Full moon, your time goes by A new moon's still kept out of sight

(We live) Misty tales and poems lost (We die) All the bliss and beauty will be gone May my weary soul find release for a while At the moment of death I will smile It's the triumph of shame and disease In the end (Iliad)

Raise my hands and praise the day Break the spell, show me the way In decay The flame of Troy will shine bright

Roam in darkness Spread the vision We will be lost if you truly believe

Troy in darkness There's a cold emptiness in our hearts That they've gone away And won't come back

They'll tear down the wall to bring it in They'll truly believe in the lie Lie, lie With blossoms they'll welcome the old foe

The vision's so clear When day and dream unite The end is near You'd better be prepared

The nightmare shall be over now There's nothing more to fear Come join in our singing and dance with us now The nightmare shall be over now There's nothing more to fear The war, it is over, forevermore

No hope, the blind leads the blind Carry on, though future's denied Mare or stallion, there's far more inside We're in at the kill We'll cheerfully die

Misty tales and poems lost All the bliss and beauty will be gone May my weary soul find release for a while At the moment of death I will smile It's the triumph of shame and disease In the end (Iliad)

Raise my hands and praise the day Break the spell, show me the way In decay The flame of Troy will shine bright

Holy light shines on

So the judgement's been made We're condemned though the trial's far ahead The crack of doom Father, your handsome son is heading home

Still the wind blows Calm and silent Carries news from a distant shore (Heading home) (repeat 2x)

Out of mind Can't get it Can't get it out of my head Sorrow and defeat Sorrow and defeat

[bllushbunniie]

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪ Pas de Deux ⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖

~Part One~

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ Y/N is a Principle Ballerina, she meets Aaron Hotchner and the team in unfortunate circumstances ⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ⋆౨ৎ

Y/N loved routines. The daily routine of being awoken by her fluffy cloud of a cat begging for her breakfast, followed by her breakfast of oatmeal and strawberries.

Then came her stretching routine- rolling out her entire body on a foam roller, warming her up for the hard work day to come.

Slow but structured mornings allowed Y/N to be in her best form all of the time. Muscles prepped and primed, mind connected to her body.

'I'll see you later, little baby!' Y/N squished her cat goodbye as she picked up her bag she'd prepared the night before. The night before was spent covered in in thread, nails and wood- Y/N had spent 3 hours preparing a whole 5 sets of new pointe shoes for this upcoming week.

She loved the procedure of tailoring shoes, methodical, slightly violent at times- she'd scared her cat Marzipan with whacking the box of the shoe off of her floor but the thought of herself floating on stage with these shoes was all that was filling her mind.

'Sorry baby!! Your mummy has to get these all ready for auditions tomorrow'. Quickly retrieving the spooked cat from under her coffee table.

‘I've trained really hard you know, Marzi... I just hope it all pays off'. Y/N sets her kitten on her lap and continues to darn her shoes.

Y/N had stuck to a strict schedule over these past few weeks to build stamina. Giselle was such an athletic, agile role and she knew that she had what it took to pull it off. Well, not just pull it off, to excel. But she had some competition with some of the other great principles in her ballet company.

The company environment was a fulfilling and productive one most of the time, but there was an underlying anxiety that flowed through the Corps, to the Soloists to the Principals. Y/N snorts at herself, anxiety wasn't the word. It was more of an uneasiness.

Something, anything could happen- a dancer could fall and end up with a life changing injury, two partners could fall in love and fall out of love, teachers could abuse and give ultimate congratulations. Yeah, definitely uneasiness she thought.

Commuting to the studio was a lovely experience. Y/N loved how close she lived to it, and how scenic the route was, especially now it was summer. It also didn't help it was absolutely sweltering weather- the perfect weather to keep her muscles nice and warm.

'Miss, I'm going to have to stop you there'

An arm blocked her from rounding the corner to the studio.

Y/N didn't even time to think before she stumbled back.

There was a dozen police vehicles and an ambulance dispersed throughout the entrance of the company building. What an earth had gone on?

'Y/N over here!'

Y/N's eldest friend, Anne, ushered her over to the group of her colleagues.

‘What is-‘

'Okay, so all we know is' Anne immediately interrupted Y/ N, Anne always loved a gossip.

'-all we know is that someone died in the building last night.’

'Died?!'

'Y/N keep your voice down!' A panicked hush came from Arthur, her dance partner.

Whispers of brief and uniformed explanations were exchanged throughout the group.

It was determined a minute later that something suspicious had gone on. Nobody was allowed to enter the building apart from law enforcement or medical aid.

And, worst of all, they'd brought out a body bag about an hour earlier.

~

'Something is wrong here, Serg'

An officer pulled up his superior. Throughout their inspection, law enforcement had found the usual pieces of evidence. They knew once they had responded to the call and found the body, it was foul play.

An older man lay dead, pooled in his own blood, multiple entry wounds. Room half burnt, air filled with smoke.

Their depth as dealt with this type of crime before, but suddenly, it was anything but typical.

It was a personal kill, a murder of a teacher-

For heavens sake... catch me before I kill more I cannot control myself, recited the officer. A letter stamped on the crime scene, a plea and a confession rolled into one.

'I think we need to call in the FBI, Serg'

It'd been a while since the BAU had been called out. A period of anomaly. Usually there's always a case that needs solving, too many evil actions going on, people trying to be clever and create as much havoc as possible.

Aaron was enjoying this period of anomaly.

But he knew it'd never last long. Something as horrific and puzzling would rear its ugly head. The next day, his suspicions were proven correct.

The team had been called out to a big city, but specifically a dance studio.

Interesting...he'd never experienced such a crime scene in such an environment.

Aaron took out his pen and paper before showing the team the informational pack. It was particularly puzzling to him as to why they don't usually get called out to such establishments.

He wrote down such pointers as:

'Passionate, expressive people'

'Possible authority problems'

'Rigorous physical exercise'

He's sure the team could put together more complex points.

'Did you know a ballerina can carry up to three times her body weight on the tip of her big toe? Oh! And they burn about 1,000 calories an hour?'

Spencer, as per usual, was reciting little bits of information. He was treating it as some new exciting corner of the world when in fact an awful murder had taken place.

'Man, I don't know whether or not I'll be too busy checking out the pretty girls or I'll feel to emasculated-you say they carry how much in just their toe?!'

'Morgan, that's totally inappropriate! A dance teacher was murdered and you're thinking about all the ballerinas you can bed?!'

Aaron was thankful Elle caught Derek up on that little quip, the team had been a little too enthusiastic to take this case. They all knew the world of ballet was prestigious and pretty. A lot different from their usual dingy and dirty sorts of places. This dance studio was famous, famous for producing great athletes, the world's best dancers with productions millions around the world wish to see.

Aaron was just focused on the job, as he usually was.

Aaron led the investigation, but for once, the local police department were quite helpful. Everyone was in agreement that this specific killer could be a number of people: teachers, students, parents. But one thing was for sure, it was going to happen again unless they caught them. They were a passion filled person, their brain clearly had them in attack mode, but what did they want so much they had to kill to have?

'I want to interview the dancers. I need to know what life is like here, what's going on- I heard they've just finished auditions for the next big production?'

Aaron spoke his mind to the team, he was insinuating that there could be potential tension with auditions. But other than that, he needed to really gauge how everyone feels, how everyone acts.

‘I want everything running as usual, the UnSub is likely to back down when they're not in a high stress environment’

~

'They want to interview me?! Why me?’, Anne was immediately startled by the implication she was involved somehow.

‘They're talking to everyone Annie, try not worry too much’

Y/N had found out a little information from Miss Sylvie, being a Principle gave her some privileges, including closer, personal relationships with teachers and staff.

Miss Sylvie was absolutely beside herself when Y/N caught up with her. She was pacing outside of the staff entrance, so Y/N thought it would probably best to try and console her. Miss Sylvie was a passionate woman, she almost always had tears in her eyes after the adage set of barre. Y/N would've found it comical if she didn't relate heavily. Miss Sylvie had called Y/N a 'kindred spirit' often whilst they were together, they had an excellent student-teacher relationship.

Y/N remembers when she first joined their company, she was so young, only 17, all the passion inside but needed to find a way to let the passion display outwards. That's when she discovered videos of the one of the company's ballet masters dancing as Giselle back in 1980.

Who knew death could look so elegant? Y/N thought to herself as she watched Miss Sylvie in her athletic prime, using practiced strength and power to make her float through the air like a feather. For a moment, Y/N forgot this wasn't real, like she wasn't watching Giselle reluctantly lure Albrecht to his death, Y/N knew the story but she found herself hoping that this time the Queen of the Wilis would take pity on the couple.

Gosh, if it hurt Y/N by watching it on a screen, she couldn't imagine how Miss Sylvie felt dancing it.

From then on, she hung on every single one of Miss Sylvie's corrections, even ones that weren't directed towards her.

'Sam, softer hands please! Softer! Even softer!'

'Ladies, I don't want to see your concentration faces, I need passion!'

‘Y/N, if you're going to hit those 32 fouettés, I need a stronger core from you!'

Within a couple of years, Y/N had climbed the ranks from corps, to soloist and now to principle. The cherry on top was the friend she gained in Miss Sylvie.

'Y/N, they're.. they're going to talk to everyone and... god.. what are we going to do, what am I going to do?'

Reaching up and around her, Y/N engulfed her in a soothing hug, the older woman turning to sobs.

'It's Roberto, Y/N, they set.. the set fire to him. They stabbed him... tried to... tried to hide what they did... oh god Y/N.

~

'We've left these guys till last' explained JJ, 'these are the top ranking dancers, probably know a lot more about the relationships between everyone, definitely a lot more about Roberto’

'Could one of these be the UnSub?' Elle questioned.

'Particularly likely, these dancers are passionate, competitive, compulsive. It's why they're at the top. Reid bounces back.

Aaron already knew this, and he knew he'd be the one interviewing them. This required meticulous questioning, and someone with years of experience.

'Morgan you can interview. Send the first in please.’

After a few hours, all he found were dancers full of sorrow and upset. He saw in each of their eyes, the dread that filled them when he let them know that this wasn't over, they must keep vigilant.

'Is there anyone who held any sort of grudge towards Roberto? Anyone who had recently been snubbed with the casting?'

"Most of the company don't know about the castings, Sir.’

Anne was trying to keep her head clear, but she was worried. This was something close to her. Roberto, Miss Sylvie, the rest of the soloists and principles, she saw everyday- it's only a small pool of people, she must know something.

'I'm... I'm trying really hard Agent, I'm sorry I can't give you much more. But ever since this has happened, I'm just getting an awful feeling that it's someone I know, or someone close to my circle. I've been feeling their tension... with the castings and emotions were running high with everyone but that's normal right?' she was babbling but she didn't care, she needed to make sure the Agent knew what was going on in her mind.

‘I just, I just don't want anything to happen to my friends’

"You're alright, Anne, we're done here, thank you for your time.’

Morgan terminated the interview, giving Hotch a ~shrug~ and a head shake even though they couldn't see eachother through the glass.

This was the most information he had gained all day.

And it got Aaron thinking. Who's the main character in this story? Who does everyone envy? It has to be about the woman who was playing Giselle.

Sylvie has made the BAU aware that the dancers had yet to see the announcements of castings.

They were going to announce it at the beginning of next week.

Unfortunately for everyone involved, this probably meant another trigger event for the Unsub.

He needed to speak to their Giselle, he needed to know everything about Y/N.

-

Y/N was summoned to the interview room a few hours later.

Aaron had prepped his mind for more of a rigorous interview, this.. Y/N.. has to be the key to breaking through this case.

He was leading this one. He'd kept himself out of the sight of the dancers and staff members intentionally. He knew keeping some things hidden from the sight of the UnSub would allow him to act like a fly on the wall.

He has his eyes focused on the questions in front of him, focus broken by the door opening.

The urge to fix his tie drifted over him as she walked in.

He didn't even know it was possible to enter a room and sit down on a chair so gracefully.

'Good evening, Y/N. Before we start, I want to let you know that due to information we've gathered for your peers, we've deduced that you may be a core component in this investigation.’

Her?

'Please don't panic, Y/N' Aaron's voice descending into a hushed, calm tone.

'No harm will come to you, we're making sure of it. We have a few ideas- keeping you guarded at all times is a must.’

‘I'm friends with everyone here, Agent, we all work so hard together. I just can't believe anyone would..’

Y/N felt like a rug had been pulled from under her. This was her home, how could it become so unsafe?

‘I understand but I need you to think really hard for me, has there been any nasty comments, any shoes misplaced....?'

'No, absolutely nothing.’ Y/N quickly responded, eyes wide, searching Agent Hotchner's face for any emotion.

She doesn't think she's seen such a stoic face before.

But his eyes, his eyes were filled with something. It was like they were asking for something.

'But! But you could come and shadow me whilst we take class. I know l've not given you much to go off, but to be honest Agent, you've really frightened me’

Shakily pulling out her timetable from her jacket pocket, she unfolded it and presented it to the Agent.

He assured her he wouldn't interfere with her work-day, he'll try to stay out of sight as much as possible. Luckily enough, there were windows with a privacy film as to not distract the dancers, so he'd be able to observe the class' true behaviour.

'Like I mentioned earlier, you could be at risk, so please, if anything seems suspicious to you, come straight to me or the team.’

He was professional when talking Y/N through their plans.

He was going to be her personal guard for the foreseeable future. He needed to know where she was at all times, he wanted to analyse the interactions she had.

It all needed to be discreet however, he'll keep his distance, for the most part.

But he felt something else, something deeper. He couldn't show this in his disposition but the way she was shrinking into herself throughout their interview had him wanting to soothe her. He knew this wasn't her usual self.

Of course he'd done his research beforehand.

Y/N was a popular figure in ballet. Aaron and his team had scoured the internet to find production videos, interviews, anything to help them build profiles.

Y/N stood out to him. You could see she was going to be a star even when she was in the background of dance, she wasn't supposed to be focus of the stage but she was.

She was putting the soloist to shame, no wonder she rose to the top of the company so quickly.

She was captivating, athletic, beauti...

Aaron tried his best to not let his thoughts wander, he was a professional after all; there was a criminal to catch.

He would be stupid to not bury these feelings, he'd be putting everyone at risk if his head wasn't screwed on right.

~

'Marzi! Where are you, baby?'

Y/N dropped her bag full of shoes and warm-up gear on the floor, searching for her only source of comfort away from dance.

Marzipan was still fast asleep when Y/N approached her.

She gently picked her up and cuddled her as the little kitty woke up. After 12 hours, it finally felt like she could breathe.

She was finally freed from relentless questioning and eerie atmosphere of the day.

So many questions were running through her head.

Why the fuck are they allowing the company to keep running as usual?

She loves her job but, oh god, a teacher was murdered and now they think they're after her?! Shouldn't she be in protection?

How was she going to deal with Agent Hotchner guarding her flat for the foreseeable future?

Peering out of her window to see his unmarked car across the street, she couldn't see any movement from inside of it, but she knew he was out there vigilantly protecting her.

And why does he have to be so handsome?

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ⋆౨ৎ

a/n: it’s here!!

please, if you have any storyline recommendations, let me know!

if you wanna chat about ballerina!reader, let’s do it!! let’s build her world up!! ⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖

I’ll start writing part 2 this week so send as many asks as you’d like!♡

[druidwolf21]

Command deck

Lion El'johnson/f reader

Summery: Lion El'johnson's personal serf gets a little more personal.

Tags:Tags: @beckyninja @moodymisty @jaghatai-khock @echo-of-damnation @laura-naruto-fan1998 @lemon-russ @astrohymn @gallifreyianrosearkytiorsusan @incrediblethirst @kit-williams @iluminatka16 @cosmic-cryptid-from-beyond @bookandyarndragon @thisuserislilsilly @saintsylestine

A/N: as with all, not proof read. Short thought I needed out of my head

Tw: smut, brief derogatory language, brief mild threat.

This is NOT going to end well

The Command deck was crowded, astartes and astra militarum stood circling the flickering holo display hovering over the round center table as serfs and lower ranking soldiers hurried about shouting orders.

You glanced around, taking in the room as you clutched your holodisk in your hands. The dark angels sigil hung along the ships walls on massive gilded banners, fluttering faintly as Marines strode past.

The Command center was raised, an elevated platform accessed by a single walkway that looked down to the pilot deck. Peeking over the railed edge, The room below was fitted with desks and large displays, showing flashing lights and trajectories to unknown planets and pulsing stars.

"And how does this involve you, Oseric?"

You dragged your eyes back to the centre, wincing at the biting voice.

Lion El'johnson stood with his arms folded across his green tabard, emerald eyes flashing as he watched the projected display.

He was furious.

You could see it in the way the muscle in his jaw twitched, in how his pupils thinned as he watched the millitarum officer prattle on about defensive procedure and munition lines.

"My lord I really do believe-"

The room stilled as Lion El'johnson waved his hand, silencing the man.

"Captain Osric, whilst I believe you are a man of... Varying talents, I fail to see how you would draw the conclusion that I value your opinion on this matter"

The officer spluttered as his face turned red.

Lions voice was low, dangerously laced as he continued.

"My Dark Angels were called in to handle this after you failed to bring this rebellion under control. The Command of this battle is no longer yours"

You stood behind the primarch, hands clasped in front of you tugged at a viridian thread teasing itself loose from your dress as an uneasy tension settled over the meeting. Soldiers shuffled their feet, cowing under the Lions presence as his personal guard stepped forward.

"My lord El'johnson I really do think-"

"Now that's the problem. I don't think you do"

He waved a large hand again and an angel stepped forward, clasping an armour hand on the captains shoulder.

"If you had, in fact, stopped to think at any point, my sons and I would not be here wasting our time cleaning up this sorry mess"

You could see Lions jaw clenching behind the cropped hair of his beard as he leant forward, spreading both palms across the table.

"Woman"

You jumped, rushing forwards to stand by the table. His gaze flicked to you, raking along your body before returning to your face and then finally the hololithe.

"Tell our good captain Osric what you found"

With practiced ease you slid your fingers along the data slate, swapping out the projected image for rolls of scrolling data and pics.

"I took it upon myself to look into the dissention and subsequent hostility in section 42.8.c" you flicked again, zooming into an image of a man, stood up on a pile of rubble with his fist held in the air. Beneath his foot, a flag of the imperium aquilla lay torn and bloodied.

"This man is the source of rebellion movements in the sector. If he dies, the unrest will settle very quickly"

"And how long did this information take you to find?"

You shared a large map, indicating frequented spots, travel projections and known acquaintances.

"6 hours, my lord"

Lion peered at the captain, who looked visibly sweaty beneath the stern gaze and the weight of plasteel on his shoulder.

"6 hours"

He pushed off the table, standing upright as he scowled.

"My aide has done more for me in 6 hours than you have done in 6 days"

"But my lord, we didnt-"

"Get him out of my sight"

The dark angel shoved the captain, hassling him over the narrow access bridge and through the hermetic doors.

With a heavy sigh Lion took a seat, musing over the information still displayed above the table. The remaining soldiers stood uncomfortably, waiting for anything.

He remained silent.

You stepped up to the side of the primarch's chair, your hip brushing against the arm rest as you shifted the display to a number of astartes.

"My lord, the captain of the dreadwing has requested men from his unit be deployed. He advised a "Scorched earth approach would render to ash any doubts of the imperial truth"

Lion glanced at you as he traced his finger over his chin in thought before running his hand through his blonde locks.

"Clear the deck"

His voice boomed across the commander centre as men rushed to oblige, no doubt relieved to escape the scrutiny of the first son. His elite guard lingered, red eye lenses whirring as he looked between you and his genesire.

You stepped to the front of his chair and bowed, hugging your slate to your chest to keep from spilling out of the tight laced bodice of your dress.

"I will take my leave, my lord Lion"

"Not you, you stay"

You paused as he spoke, still bent at the waist you listened as his guard clashed a gauntlet against plate armour. The sound of heavy ceramite fading as the command doors sealed with a pressurized hiss.

Rising up slowly, a breath caught in your throat as the lion peered at you. His face unreadable, he frowned slightly before sighing.

"You have done fine work, considering the incompetency we have faced since arrival."

"Thank you, my lord. I only wish to be of service to you"

"hmm"

Your body felt warm under his gaze, a flush creeping up the exposed skin of your chest, up your neck and across your cheeks.

"Such a useful thing. And yet such dissension you have caused, to the hassle of my sons"

"My lord?"

Lion kicked a leg out, lounging backwards in his chair as below the platform, the muted sound of orders echoed faintly.

"My sons have had multiple men punished for calling you "the lions whore"" he tapped the arm of his chair, steely eyes never leaving you as he spoke.

"Obviously this is to save insult to myself, rather than you, but never the less I find myself wondering why this hasn't been nipped in the bud"

Your mouth worked for a moment as you struggled to find the right words, The feint pink blush now burning furiously.

"I assure you my lord, I have never encouraged this lie"

"And yet my sons hear it disseminated freely amongst serfs"

Sighing you rubbed your temples, catching yourself as the lion cocked an eyebrow at the movement.

"My lord, jealousy is unfortunately something I cannot control. I was hand picked to help you and If that's how they want to see it then let them, I'm not ashamed"

Your outburst left you stunned for a moment before you began stammering, dropping your data drive to the tabletop as you waved your hands.

"oh, but that's not to say... I mean I would never assume you would... Not that you couldn't, I would be more than happy to.. but I mean-"

A low deep noise halted you as Lion began to laugh. A deep rumbling chuckle in his throat that lasted only a moment before he fell silent.

"So you pride yourself on being the Lions whore do you?"

"my lord, you know that is not what i-"

A gasp wretched itself from you as he grabbed your forearm and dragged you forward until you leaned over his chair, you face dangerously close to his.

Palms rested against his broad chest, your fingers clenching at the soft fabric of his tunic as he held you.

"What bothers you more, little aide? What they call you? Or the fact that it isn't true?"

His palm found the back of your head, pulling you to meet his lips in a heated kiss. The brush of his beard burned your skin as his mouth moved against yours. his tongue delving into your mouth as you gasped, feeling his hand slide along your waist.

Breathless you broke the kiss, staring stunned at the primarch as he smirked.

"my lord, I really don't think this is-"

He pulled you in for another kiss. hungrier, he moved his lips along your neck as he pulled you fully against him to straddle his lap.

"You said you wanted to be of service" he muttered against your throat, palming the fat of your rear through the iridescent skirt of your dress. "Why not make the name official"

You bit back a groan as he ran his tongue along the pulse point of your neck.

"Someone will see us"

He slid his hand under your dress, trailing his fingers along your thigh before pressing his thumb against your clit.

"It is more likely they will hear you"

He pressed again. A fanged grin spreading across his face as you jerked, moaning softly as he traced circles around the nerves.

The noise of the ships helm faded as you panted in the primarch's lap, feeling his fingers bruising your thigh and his thumb rubbing against your nub.

"This- this isn't appropriate"

"Do you want me to stop?"

You bit back a whine as he stilled, thumb pressed unmoving to your core. Your hips bucked and you ground yourself against him, throwing your arms around his neck as you pushed your hips down into his lap.

"No"

You felt his chest reverb, his teeth finding your throat as he resumed flicking his finger across your clit, a thick digit sliding between the slick and teasing your entrance as he pulled you towards your finish. You couldn't hold back a moan as he slid his finger inside, curling it against your walls his languid strokes finally brought you to finish.

Lion scoffed as he felt you cum. Pulling his finger out he pushed it into your mouth, pupils dilating as you ran your tongue along it with glassy eyes.

"Maybe they were right to call you whore" he mused, gripping your chin. "Was this what you wanted all along? Did you want your primarch to praise you like this for working so diligently?" He pressed his finger to your tongue, watching you gasp for a moment. "Well? Is it?"

'Yes, yes my lord" you garbled, fighting to get the words out past the pad of his finger.

"Good girl"

You cunt clenched at his praise, heat pooling in your gut as he reached between you, unbuckling his trousers to free himself. Your eyes bulged as you eyed his length watching it slap against his stomach as he rugged it free from his trousers, dusty pink tip already leaking as he palmed it slowly.

A quick glance up at him and you reached down, taking him cock between both hands as you slowly pumped the shaft, allowing your thumb to tease his tip, just as he'd teased you. You grinned as you felt him stiffen, his abs tight under his shirt as you slid your hands along him.

Calloused hands clutched the back of your neck as he kissed you, all tongue and teeth like he was trying to devour you with each breathless moment. You continued to work him between your fingers, swallowing his grunts as he twitched.

Pulling away with spit coating your lip, you lifted the soft satin on your dress, bunching it at your hips as you slid your underwear aside and lined him up to your entrance. Lions throaty moan drowning yours as inch by inch you slid down around him, gutteral curses in a language you didn't recognize falling from his lips as he clawed at your hips.

Pain and pleasure blurred and your eyes watered as he stretched you deliciously full. Through tears, you could see Lion staring at the point your body's met, thumb rubbing across your stomach as he watched you take him.

"Look at that" he hummed "You really are made to serve"

Panting like a bitch in heat, you slowly rose yourself up before dropping back down, rolling your hips as you rode him to push his leaking glans against the spot that made you scream. Lions hands helping you bounce as his own hips thrust up to meet you.

Your orgasm came crashing down around you again as he rutted upwards, dragging his thick length across your walls. His palm shot up to smother the wailing sob that escaped your swollen lips as he fucked you through it, relentless as he felt you clench around his cock.

it doesn't matter, you thought they've already heard enough to know the rumours are true.

The lions whore has quite a nice ring to it, you suppose.

You sighed into his hand, tears trickling through his fingers as he thrust, over and over. Low snarls wracking his broad chest beneath your clenched knuckles as he twitched inside you.

'Mmmhmm" you muffled against his palm

He pulled it away for a second scowling like you had interrupted him.

"Inside, I want it inside" you crooned. "Fill me up, Lord Lion.

Lions eyes shot wide and he smothered a snarl, embedding his canines into your shoulder as with a final erratic pump he came, flooding your cunt with hot ropes of cum that leaked around his pulsing shaft and dripped down your thighs. After a moment, you felt his great mass shift beneath you, sliding out of your heat as he tucked himself back into his trousers with a tired groan.

"I guess I am the Lions whore now" you smiled, pulling your dress over your legs and allowing yourself to fall against his chest as you craned you neck to look at him. The coarse hair on his cheeks and chin rubbed your skin and he pressed his lips to your forehead.

Lion opened his mouth to speak, only for the hiss of the airtight door lock to interrupt him.

A astartes, clad in Veridian green and wings atop his helm strode through the door. His visor twisted to look down at you in his gene sires lap and you heard him inhale before turned back to his father.

"Lord El'johnson, the millitarum captain has requested a continuation of the earlier discussion regarding astartes take over."

Lion dragged a palm down his face and patted your hip, gesturing for you to stand. With an aching sigh you slid off his lap and onto your feet, feeling your pants snap back into place as you smoothed the ruffled fabric around your legs. You grimaced slightly, feeling his spend pooling in the gussett.

The Dark angel clashed his fist to his chest and returned to the door, propping it open as the soldier entered sheepishly.

"My lord, forgive the intrusion but I really do think-"

Captain Oseric eyes popped as he scrambled through the door,l to be met with the sight of you breathless and flushed stood next to the lion.

"I think I will take my leave, My lord. Please summon me at your discretion should you require my services"

You dipped into a curtsy, dipping low as you stepped around the trembling captain, flashing a smile at him as you passed.

"Whore" he whispered through gritted teeth.

Before you could respond, the space marine has hoisted the man by the scruff of his neck, dangling him in the air as his other hand twitched towards his bolter.

"The Lady El'Johnson will not be spoken to as such" the astartes hissed, mechanical and wheezing through his breather. "I will kill you where you stand"

Shocked, you glanced between the angel and the primarch. Predatory gaze never leaving you as his son threatened to throttle the captain.

"I will attend you later, you may leave"

Bowing your head, you smiled as Lion El'johnson waved you off, flicking his concentration to Osric, trembling and spluttering as he hung 5 feet off the ground.

"once again I find you wasting my time today Captain. I'm beginning to think we may have a problem."

Sliding out of the door, El'johnsons voice faded as the vacuum sealed the command deck.

Lady El'Johnson definitely sounds better than the lions whore

[avaf00rd]

what about a cute leah fic where r (her gf) gets her hair done.. like dyed or something and leah is OBSESSED like shows her off to everyone, in looooove with her, extra kisses and even an insta story to show her girl off too

Back to your roots

Leah Williamson x reader

Leah

Im right where i dropped you x

You smiled at her message as you still sat in your chair at the salon, your girlfriend 20 minutes early.

“Reckon she’ll like?” Your well known hairdresser asked you

“Without a doubt”

Once you left, your rounded the corner of the building to find your girlfriend leaning against the side of the car, phone in her hand “you could have come in you know?” Her head shot up at your voice, catching her attention as you made your way towards her

Her mouth was just left open, stunned

You naturally had dark brown hair. Ever since you’ve known Leah and basically all of your teammates, you’ve dyed it blonde or a super light brown, very few times, which was still basically blonde. Your friends and Leah had always mentioned when they saw old photos of you that you should dye it back, so without telling your girlfriend, you had done it.

“Your old colour?” Leah asked excitedly as she pulled you close to her. Your hair length now matching Leah’s shorter hair

“Yeah do you like it” you spun around so she could see the full thing. Her face beaming brighter

“I love it you look so beautiful, stunning, natural and just ah-“ Leah said before cutting her own words off by kissing you

“I’m glad you do” you said against her lips

“Why didn’t you tell me?” She smiled

“I don’t know I didn’t want to tell anyone. Felt right” you shrugged

“You look beautiful” she said, running her hands through your hair again. You both got into the car before Leah drove you both back to your shared flat. “All styled beautifully for tonight as well” she said looking at you now that you reached a red light

“Won’t make us late by spending an hour in the bathroom” you laughed

“If our house burns down one night and it’s because of that damn hair iron, I’ll be sure happy because it’ll be dead” Leah said making you laugh “hey now we are officially a blonde and brunette duo”

“Yeah you’re right” you said before pulling out your phone camera out to play with your hair and get another look for yourself “brunette me may be staying for a while actually, I love it”

“That makes me happy” Your girlfriend said before kissing the knuckles of the hand she held from her seat.

Only a few hours later you were out for dinner with some of your Arsenal teammates to celebrate Steph’s birthday, all eyes on you and jaws dropped when you and Leah walked in late

“Holy shit y/n!” They all said at the same time. Making you throw your head back with laughter, Leah’s hand on your lower back guiding you to the table

“Back to your roots!”

“Your look beautiful”

“It’s even more beautiful than I could have imagined!”

“Wow”

“You suit it so well!”

Were just some of the comments you received from the girls. As someone who was blonde for your whole friendship with these people, it was a totally different look for you.

When you handed Steph her present and gave her a massive hug she went to do the same with Leah, “why didn’t you give brunette a go?” Steph asked your girlfriend

“Never thought it would suit me. Having second thoughts now though after seeing how beautiful this one is” Leah said to the group, eyes stuck on your’s though

“Aww” Beth yelled from her end of the table, being stuck as the chatterbox at the very far end.

“Come sit down!” Steph exclaimed before you and Leah sat down at the last two vacant seats.

Later, when you were mid conversation about Taylor Swift concerts you had been to with Viv who was across from you, Leah’s hands threaded through your shirt brown locks as she watched you talk about something with your hands still so passionately.

When your conversation had died down you turned to your girlfriend, her hands still in your hair, “you like huh?” You smiled, taking a sip of your Prosecco.

“Oh I loooove” Leah dragged out, throwing her head back with admiration.

“And I loooove you” you said pecking her cheek, Leah deciding that wasn’t enough as she set her glass down a pulled your chin so your lips met hers for a quick moment.

“I’m a big fan, can I get a photo?” Leah asked, pretending to be a fan, pulling her phone out of her hand bag

“Of course you can!” You laughed

“Okay big smiles” she said before you rested your chin on your fist and shot her smile while she took the photo, scrunching your nose up in laughter in the last few as Leah squeezed your thigh a few times, knowing you how ticklish you were.

“Cute” Leah mumbled whilst you both looked at the photos “and pretty” she kissed your cheek once more,

“Very hot I would actually say!” Katie yelled from across the table, the Irish girl way too loud for the small Italian restaurant

You had a joke that you and Katie were in a relationship sometimes, just to piss off Leah and Caitlin

“Thanks baby” you said back, reaching for her hand across the table

Leah and Caitlin just rolling their eyes at both of your antics.

“Can I put that on my close friends?” Leah asked you, motioning to the picture

“Yeah of course” you smiled at her warmly.

Two days later and the public hadn’t really seen your new hair, besides some people on twitter claiming they saw you and Leah out on a walk together. All Before Arsenal posted their most recent training photos

(You’re Lia)

Liked bye leahwilliamson, bethmead and 79,540 others

arsenal wfc

back to work in order for the weekend❤️

@leahwilliamson 🤌🏼

@bethmead 🤎💇🏽‍♀️ @y/n

@y/n hair hard launch

@arsenalfam Y/N IS BRUNETTE WHAT DID I MISS

@leahupdatesx SHE LOOKS SO GOOD

@arsen_lfan JUST WHEN WE THOUGHT DHE COULDNT GET PRETTIER

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Wrote this in under an hour so don’t expect much. I hope to get my other fics out soon. But I’m still in London so it’s hard to find time. Ly x PS KEEP UP REQUESTS

[ddaz3d-and-cc0nfused]

Can i request a super fluffy and sweet hotch fic where reader is baking and hotch is sittinh there on the counter admiring his wife, like theres music and r is just glowing and aaron is thinking ‘oh im so lucky to have her’ and ughhh im craving sweetness pls give me fluff thank you

fem wife!plus size reader, wc: 515.

۶ৎ a/n .ᐟ | i've been craving some sweetness too, so this fluff was for me and you 😭 thank you for your request!

It's so incredibly late that when Aaron enters your shared apartment with the expectation of you sleeping, all he sees is the way you jump and almost knock over your mixing bowl when he calls out your name from the dark.

“Holy shit!” You swear, your hand — which was covered in flour — slapped itself over your racing heart. “Jesus, Aaron, you scared me.” You sighed in relief.

“Sorry, sweetheart.” You watched as he set his briefcase and go-bag down on the couch. Aaron looked exhausted; his hair was air whipped and disheveled, there were slight darkening bags under his eyes, and those frown lines from all that scowling and frowning he does. Your boyfriend was here, and he was home, safe and sound.

You looked at him with a sweet smile as he rounded the counter sluggishly. “Hey, handsome.” You greet him quietly, almost as if it was a secret between the two of you. You throw your arms around his neck loosely while his hands fall lazily on your hips.

“Hi.” His body relaxes under your silk touch, your fingers threading themselves through his cropped hair. “Do you want to talk about it, or do you wanna be home now?” Aaron squeezed your body closer to his at the question. “I wanna be home.”

An intimate silence fell over the both of you before he pulled away slightly, looking at the messy island that was covered in baking ingredients.

“What are you doing?” He inquires in a soft tone. “Oh! Jack has a bake sale tomorrow and I kind of… procrastinated making them. So now, here we are.” You confess with a sheepish smile.

“Do you need any help?”

“No, I’m okay - wait! There’s actually one thing you can help me with.”

“And what’s that?”

“By sitting your cute ass down and telling me about your week.”

He smiles at your wording but relents and allows you to shuffle him out of the kitchen and into one of the bar stools.

He rambles on about his week while you listen and occasionally add your commentary when something peaks your interest. He stares in awe at your multitasking, but also at the fact that you look so serene.

You have a severe case of bed head, and your pajamas are wrinkled, followed by your messy hands and the blotches of flour littered on your clothes. You put Jack above your sleep and felt butterflies flutter in his stomach.

How was he able to find someone like you?

After Haley died, Aaron was convinced that maybe he was just meant to wander the world alone, and watch his son grow up. But then… there was you. Sweet, beautiful, outgoing you.

When he had said something funny in the monotone voice of his you laughed, and the sound rang like twinkling bells were in his ears. It completely overlapped with the soft tunes that were playing from your phone.

It took him a while, but Aaron was glad that he learned how to love again, because you had been waiting for him for a long, long, time.

[my-flesh-is-crispy]

Hi crispy! Can I request a Chance x Reader oneshot? A little angsty with a happy ending would be perfect, but anything is fine!

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77...even.

(yeah I'm still not the best at titles)

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ORDER UP!

A chance x reader oneshot with a splash of angst and a cheesy ending!

Call me 1 eggs with how much I'm going to cook hehehehe

(god I hate myself for saying that)

SELF HATRED ASIDE LETS GET INTO IT!

Tw: minor gore

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×°×(Setting: Haunted Hotel)×°×

The beginning of a new round always ment great things to a certain gambler. Chance. His ears plagued with the rattling sounds of slot machines and the sweet, sweet noise of the jackpot. Though, the "sweet sweet noise of the jackpot" for him in the hell sounds like the annoyed grunts, groans, complaints, and sometime screams from the things trying to kill him. And you of course! You were his beloved after all, anything trying to kill you was faughter for lead bullets to him. He was quite.... Confident,for a survivor, fighting to live just 4 minutes.

But this round was no different.

For now, You two hid in a corner behind a hedge on top a long brick pot. He was flipping his coin and you were waiting for him, sure you could walk out and start helping everyone but you didnt want leave him and his weakness 30 ass behind.

Ch: "y'know, y/n, lady luck isn't really on my side, it'd help if you were glued to mine~"chance reached to lightly put his arm around your waist, enough for you to pull away, but also enough for you to get closer if you wanted.he was always a bit of a flirt no matter the situation, especially gambling. He was being cheesy again... Y/n: " just because we're by ourselves here doesn't mean we don't have a job" even though he sighed and removed his arm to get back to gambling, he took your advice, I mean, he never really doesn't take your advice.

After re-rolling a couple time and fixing his hat shot you a grin. Ch: "and I am good to go!". You two linked hands and started off to find the killer and protect the team a little bit. he loved himself at least a little pda just because, simply, he could!

This round the killer was Jason, the masked mute maniac. Not a problem for chance. He couldn't outrun Jason, but janson can't outrun a bullet..... Chance: "cmon, ya' look scared! We're gonna be just fine, we pretty much always are!" You followed him to the middle of a grassy area and just down the hall you saw Jason trying to kill guest, Elliot, and two time. Guest was doing pretty well, he looked fine, but there wasn't really a moment where he wasnt "staying strong" whatever that meant. Two time is self explanatory, their two time, they could just respawn. However Eliot wasn't looking as good, he was limping around.

Right as chance saw guest miss his punch he fired his gun, hitting Jason like a target. Guest was able to get a pizza in that time he was stunned, very good help! He quickly hid the gun back behind his suit jacket but before he could make some kinda remark, you already ran over to check on Elliot, he better take the time to start gambling again if your going to get in the action.

You helped Elliot escape and find a med kit and you came back to check on guest and two time. Two time just died and respawed.... Somewhere, but now that Elliot was gone, guest was hanging on by a thread and just as you tried to help... He died. You ran over back to chance, you did get hit a few times, making you limp but he quickly shot Jason, grabbing your hand and guiding you to run away with him. You smiled through your panic as he saved you and as he pulled you behind a corner and started catching his breath he spoke.. Ch: "heh, I guess you owe me now for that stunt-" he joked before immediately gambling again, but having the worst luck.

7 tails. 8 coin flips with 7 tails..... He's going to be cutting it close here-

Jason was still coming for you and withen a few seconds he came through the doorway, you lead him to run this time, going through the ball pit and in the play room you suddenly felt him stand at a halt. Y/n: "wha- CHANCE WE HAVE TO RUN-!?" he grinned and turned around, gambling with his life once more and attempting a third shot.... He ran out of luck quickly... The gun? Just didn't fire... He went silent....7 stacks of weakness...one hit and he's dead.. Ch: "oh shi-" right as Jason was about to gashing wound chance you stepped in-between... Y/n: "we're even now." You tried to choke out but you were already coughing up blood and before you could see what he did, your vision faded....

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Epilogue (happy ending)

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Chance somehow lived the rest of the round, two time and Elliot got there right after you died to help him, but the moment he got teleported back his first concern was you, classic chance. In the survivor cabin he practically lunged at you. Ch: "Y/N WHAT WAS THAT!?! WHA- why-..... Why in lucks name did you do that?????" He asked in disbelief tilting your head around to get a better look at his favorite person. Y/n: "well.... I guess I just owed you" you say simply, laughing a little before hugging him back..... He could only guess all was well again...