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fic-over-cannon · 10 months

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A Soft Touch (pt. 1)

jason todd x f!reader (implied)

summary: when the pit brought jason back, it heightened all of his senses. he learns to live with that.

tags: mild body horror, sensory overload, mentions of offscreen violence, implied future relationship

rated teen | wc: 1.9k

a/n: dedicated to @jasonsmirrorball my beloved, who was just as excited about this version of jason as i was. part one is mostly a retrospective about how super senses would have impacted jason. the romance part of this story (and nsfw) will be in part 2 coming soon!

link to part 2, ao3 link

The Red Hood’s helmet isn’t just a precaution against an exposed secret identity or another piece of armour. It’s a necessity. It filters out sound, keeps out pungent smells and the associated tastes, controls light, and can restrict range of vision. For a regular person the helmet would be sensory deprivation of the worst kind. For Jason, it is the lifeline that keeps him alive to fight another day.

If anyone had asked Jason’s opinion before throwing him into the Lazarus Pit (not that he was in a fit state to respond, mind you) he would have told them that trusting a puddle of primordial green goo to know the limitations of the human body was incredibly stupid. Having come out of the experience irrevocably altered, he would point to his own body as an example of how much the pit didn’t know about humanity. Every scar he received before death had been removed (notably, the scars from after death were left untouched). He was over six feet tall when childhood malnutrition should have left him a good five inches shorter. His strength, rather than the result of packed on muscle and a good diet was definitely being supplemented by something unnatural. For a body built like a fridge, he was ridiculously light on his feet and agile. The physics of him just don’t make sense. Yet despite all of these changes, undoubtedly the worst was how all five of his senses had been heightened.

The Lazarus Pit burned through Jason Todd and woke him up screaming. It was the feel of it that was the worst sensation, the one that brought him up to consciousness first. The rough weave of his training pants grating against his skin like wire, clinging to his raw flesh with the dampness of the pit. Green water, oddly viscous and acrid, drenching his skin and burning like a grease fire. It drips down his nose and throat, the taste of tar and blood seared into his tongue, the scent of burnt hair and flesh imprinted into his nose. It drips into his eyes and brands them. The dark cave only lit by the green glow of the pool now so bright like it holds the light of one hundred stars. Burning and drowning and being flayed alive, Jason has no care for noise save that it deafens him. For those first few moments of awakening, Jason may as well have been truly deaf for the thunderous roar of nothingness in his ears. A rubber band snaps and at once his hearing is another ice pick to the brain. Voices that should have been a whisper ring through his skull and reverberate. The footsteps of shadows several floors away staccato through him. It is a living hell made worse by a screaming that won’t shut up. It is only when a slap cracks across his face (it feels like all the skin on his cheek has sloughed off) and the scream trails off to pitiful whines does Jason dimly recognize that the screaming was him. Two pairs of hands under his arms haul him to standing and it hurts oh it hurts. Iron meat hooks digging and clawing their way into him until he is too pinned to slip away. That is the start to the illustrious second life of Jason Todd, newly gifted.

As much training is dedicated to making Jason a better warrior, twice that is given over to training him to survive his own senses. It is rough, brutal work, dictated by trainers that have never felt the pit’s bite. It destroys whatever sanity he might have had left after his rebirth and he is grateful. He is remade with control, no longer a pitiful broken mind tied to a falling star, bracing to burn up on impact. He no longer aches at the feel of fabric on his skin, can smile and hold a conversation without wanting to claw the other person’s heart out for beating too loudly, can drink wine and not taste every molecule. He is so very grateful. But it is not enough. Talia warns him, in what might be her first true act of uncomplicated kindness to him, that those who have survived the pit don’t do well in places where life is concentrated.

Returning to Gotham is not the triumph he pictured. Within minutes of touching down he is on a safe house floor convulsing from sensory overload. The city, with its people and the machinery that houses them, is too much of everything. There are so many voices overlaid with construction and traffic, the chemical rot of the harbour suffocating him, sewage and putrid fish thick on his tongue, fluorescent lights tearing through the soft space of his eyelids. Gunshots and sirens and the tang of old blood. It takes every one of his years of training to stop seizing. It takes iron will like he hadn’t known since the early days to come back to himself. It takes days before he can control himself enough to come face to face with the shadows Talia sent with him. His first order: to bring him a motorcycle helmet. The helmet is black and stinks of cigarette smoke, visor slightly scratched. It is the most powerful relief Jason has ever known. His plans are delayed by months as he figures out the specifications for the Red Hood’s helmet. Design after design prototyped and discarded. The helmet helps, but Jason refuses to let it become his crutch. He practices, minutes at first and then hours, retraining himself to be able to exist outside the confines of the helmet.

He fails in his revenge against Batman and the Replacement, the insidious demands of his heightened senses unraveling all his patience and planning. Sends him into a murderous frenzy that nearly ends in another dead Robin. Ribs broken and face beaten in by his own father, all Jason can concentrate on is the sensation of drying blood flaking on his skin. Delirious, he thinks, so this is what they meant about the killing rage the pit hands out. It is only by the thinnest of chances that nobody dies at all and that his senses remain a secret.

Reconciliation is hard earned. He never quite gets around to telling anyone about his new ‘gifts’. Let’s them think him much more observant and tactically sound then he really is. Learns to identify the joyful thwip of Dick’s grappling gun, the steady drumming of Tim’s fingers on a keyboard. Jason memorizes the smell of Alfred’s hugs, a mixture of silver polish and baked goods. Starts to categorize all the different ways Bruce’s eyes on him feel physically.

Life doesn’t stop when his revenge does either. Jason rents an apartment as his semi-permanent safe house. Consciously decides to make it a home and learns the art of the DIY renovation. Blackout curtains go up first, followed by a soft blue on the walls (Jason may be sensitive to light now but he still can’t stand total darkness). Sound proofing comes next. He’s had a few close calls when the upstairs neighbour blasted music a little too loud and had had to restrain himself from killing them. The lumpy mattress gets replaced with memory foam and new sheets at a ridiculously high silk thread count he can’t quite believe he shelled out for. Through trial and error he finds a laundry detergent that doesn’t make him nauseous and celebrates with all the loads he’d put off. He finds joy in cooking again, running through all the recipes Alfred had taught him and appreciating them more for the new way the flavours tasted on his tongue. To his chagrin, he also discovers he hates the lingering smell of cooked food in his apartment after he’s done eating. A range hood fixes that problem but causes a new one with the rattle of the fan. Sound cancelling headphones quickly become his new best friend. Piece by piece his little oasis comes together.

Eventually Jason learns to share his little home. Stilted conversations in door frames turn into invitations for a drink turn into semi-regular dinners. Family movie nights start happening before Jason realizes it, all of the Robins, former and current, curled up in his living room. In the top kitchen cupboard on the left, a shelf gets dedicated to popcorn seasonings. Extra throw blankets get added to the sofa after Tim makes a remark about never making it through a movie night because the blankets are too comfy. Dick will show up cheerfully demanding a brotherly talk but Jason has realized that with the strategic application of cereal he can avoid talking about his own emotions. Alfred visits regularly, brings his own tea and a new recipe for the two of them to try together. Alfred never leaves without remarking on how well Jason keeps his home (and Jason never fails to flush at the compliment). Strangely enough it is when Bruce comes knocking that Jason feels the most sure footed in his apartment. Invites Bruce in politely and goes through the motions of hosting. It baffles Bruce a little, to see the Red Hood so domestic but it soothes the part of him that sat up all night with Jaylad when he was sickly. Bruce, in his own way, makes it clear that Jason will always be part of the family no matter where he chooses to live.

This latest point of reconciliation couldn’t have been timed any better. Only a few days later Damian turns up on the doorstep of the Wayne Manor. Bruce brings him by the apartment to introduce Damian to Jason, hoping that the two most recent additions will at least get along better than Damian and Tim’s first shaky interaction. It goes a little too well. Damian, unused to the sensory nightmare that is Gotham, takes two steps into Jason’s apartment and demands to stay with his big brother. Jason, intimately aware of how uncomfortable the transition from the orderly League compound to Gotham was, is only too happy to see Damian too. It takes a whispered fight of yes, I knew him, and no, I didn’t know who his father was before Bruce eventually has to concede that Damian will at least be spending some time in Jason’s home. The split transition makes establishing a life in Gotham much easier for Damian than it was for Jason. Jason can at least recognizes the signs of sensory overload, can guide Damian through it without the cruel methods of his former instructors. In caring for Damian, Jason comes to realize that he deserved worlds better than the torture disguised as teaching that he received. In preparing Damian to be a part of society, he realizes that he wants more out of life than being a controlled weapon too.

Jason waits, and he plans. After all, if he could design and execute a months’ long campaign to take over the Gotham underworld, surely he’s capable of getting a social life. He picks his first target with care, intending only to get used to being around people outside of scripted settings and his helmet. He chooses a small library two blocks from the apartment with an attached coffee shop, sets himself little goals for each day with the option to bail as soon as it becomes too much. In the span of two weeks he’s ready to move from using the library to sitting in the coffee shop. It’s a daunting task. The smell of the coffee beans, the hiss of the milk frother, and the quiet rumble of conversation prove to be too much for him on his first attempt. It’s as he’s leaving that a bright laugh floats above the din and stirs his curiosity. The next day has him right back at the coffee shop staring up at the chalk board menu. Sweat is starting to bead on his forehead and he could swear he can feel the vibrations of the coffee grinder on his skin. He is just about getting ready to leave when he hears the laugh again. Turns around and the owner of it is standing right behind him (how did she get so close without him noticing?!) beaming up at him.

And oh.

#jason todd imagine #jason todd x fem!reader #jason todd x reader #jason todd x you #jason todd fic #jason todd x y/n #red hood x reader #red hood x you #red hood fic #sunnie writes 🌻#jason todd

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packsvlog · 2 months

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　⁽　༒　⁾　 ── 𝐒𝐄𝐓 𝐌𝐄 𝐀𝐁𝐋𝐀𝐙𝐄 !

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 ⎯ the common occurrence of seeking refugee in the cold is to be stopped by the burning presence of him, ryōmen sukuna. sharing your secrets amongst the night and the heat, you both learn more of each-other.

𝐬𝐲𝐥𝐥𝐚𝐛𝐮𝐬 ⎯ modern world!sukuna ╱ change of his plot ╱ characters are aged up ╱ mention of anxiety and blood ╱ reader is a killer ╱ actually fluff ╱ reader has no gender ╱ swearing ╱ suggestive at the end.

𝐚. 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 ⎯ this was supposed to be smut but i got too involved in sukuna’s plot, so the smut is delayed. sukuna is less of a menace and more of a pissed off twin/older brother. there is a curse!sukuna in my drafts that i’m yet to finish, so if you don’t like ooc you can wait a bit, but give this a chance, ‘cause he was actually nice to write and develop. @emilyywhyy ♡

𝐰𝐜 ⎯ 2.8k

Burning chest is a common symptom you have in the presence of Ryōmen Sukuna. One could admit his red eyes shifting intensely to whatever movements you make are the cause to the warm.

The man had always been hidden away in his own place whenever you stayed over. You didn’t blame him, you didn’t tried to make him stay. If anything, you understood. Having his home flooded with four newly adults, all talking loud and laughing like their lives are on the last minute could be difficult — you had always gone away after a few hours, squeezing through the apartment window to reach the terrace and get your energy back.

It’s a routine by now, to laugh and talk and to have you retiring towards the cold breeze of the evening. Dull eyes getting enchanted by the city’s light, soft sighs scaping your lungs, opening space for new energies.

Behind you the window displayed, like an old television, your friends sitting on the sofa, Yuji throwing popcorn at Megumi, accidentally hitting Nobara and soon, he is to approach her and remove the food from her orange hair. It’s makes you smile to see them happy.

Still, you can’t return just yet.

This feeling it’s like miscalculating the steps of a stair while walking down, when you expect to have one more and somehow, the floor greets you. You close your eyes, tense shoulders and gripping the edge, feeling eeire and…burning.

You sense him before his strong scent is brought to you by the wind — car leather seats, expensive whiskey and iron. There is, also, that smell you can never recognize, maybe it’s just something in him, his whole belonging.

Sukuna’s hum makes you look at him, and the male is already by your side, cigarette in his lips and eyes avoiding yours, he stares ahead. The lights in the night, yellow and white from apartments and neon colorful from stores mix perfectly to his face, to his spiked recently dyed red hair. He hums again before shifting his face to you.

“What are you doing here?” It always takes you by surprise how deep his voice can go, but it never scares you. In fact, for you, Sukuna sounds like music. “It’s cold.”

“It’s not cold anymore.” You bite your tongue after saying this, while his face turns into curiosity. “It’s getting warmer now.”

“It’s not.” Sukuna throws the cigarette down from the roof, not caring for any passerby. “It’s still cold, and you’re just freezing as well.”

“I’m not going inside, Sukuna.” You shake your head letting a sigh scape again. “I need more…recharging?” He stares at you as if he is about to tell you how pathetic you are, but goes against it.

“Makes sense.” He moves nearer the edge, resting his arms and closing his eyes, much like you were earlier.

“You don’t have to stay.” You catch yourself saying. It’s seems that in Sukuna’s presence you have no filter for the words leaving your mouth, your attention much more occupied admiring him.

“I’m not staying for you,” liar. “they also drain me.”

Like instinct, you look back at the window, catching the sight of your friends all eyeing the two of you with curious eyes and knowing smirks.

“How can we drain you, if you always stay in your room?” You follow his movements, resting your arms and being by his side. Too close that any more and you’ll find what’s the scent of Sukuna you can’t point out.

“Just the knowledge that I have four assholes in my living room gives me headache.” There is a hint of humor in his voice that makes you smile. “And your voices, laugh, everything it’s so loud. Even if you whisper, is like I can hear.”

“Then, I’m never talking shit of you again.” Sukuna snorts at that. “Or any secrets, for that matter.”

“Your secrets are safe with me.” You both are even more closer, you come to realize, when he moves his head away from the view and into your personal space, you can’t help but move a bit closer. He smiles and open his mouth.

“HEY LOSERS!” A shout comes from the living room, making you both jump apart and stare behind, where Yuji’s upper body is on the roof, already trembling with the cold. “GET INSIDE, WE WANT PIZZA.”

“How is that my — our problem??” Sukuna asks, voice much calmer than his brother, still he is clearly annoyed.

“It’s your money we are using, dipshit.” Yuji yelps when Nobara pushes him back, saying something along the lines of “you’re ruining their moment.”

Sukuna sighs, fingers on his nose bridge.

“C’mon, I can tell you my secrets later.” You grab his hot hands, intertwining with your cold ones, and both of you walk inside the warm apartment. Back to your giggling friends and his short words filled with a bit of stress.

Many hours later, you leave the warm of Nobara’s arm under the fluffy covers on the floor you both shared, standing up quietly and moving to the kitchen with quick steps. It’s a lie to say you are just going to grab a midnight snack and go back to Yuji’s room, instead, you stay on the couch hugging your knees and staring at the window.

Today, of all normal days, you had been more drained than before. Maybe is the past coming to greet you and bringing along their company, anxiety.

You remember the first time you met your friends and Sukuna, how he was nothing more than a boy cursed to be a second vessel to the same monster that shared him and his brother. Unlike Yuji, Ryōmen had less of a control, and his grumbling and short temper had come from his hate towards the past and what he did.

Sukuna has tainted hands with blood, and though most people don’t blame him anymore, some still do and they have tried to get their revenge, or simply take his life, fearing the evil might come back. The monster is long gone, but the aftermath remains touching all of you unwillingly, and Sukuna might act as if nothing happened, but you see the effects.

Sometimes, like the beginning of this week, you are send in special and secret missions regarding Sukuna’s safety, he doesn’t need to know that there is two groups of people trying to come for him — one that wants the curse back and those who want him dead. It’s something you, Geto and Gojo agreed on. It’s scary, it paints your own hands in blood, but it does feel good to look at him going inside his room and know that for one more day he is safe.

This week you almost lost both your life and his ─ they were too close. You managed though, but the fallout was this constant fear, the longing to be outside the apartment and being hugged by the cold of the night.

As soon as you got up and opened the window, you heard quick steps behind you, a large hand coming and closing it. You turned around, and Sukuna’s red eyes looked pissed.

“It’s even colder at dawn, are you dumb in the head?” He goes away, towards the kitchen, while you sighed already missing the view and breeze behind you. Knowing it’s not worth a fight, you moved to the couch.

“I just needed some air.” You mumble.

“Listen, I get it, but the only thing you would get it’s not air or solution to whatever you’re going through, instead hypothermia would bite you in the ass with those pajamas.” At his words, you stare down at your hello kitty pajamas, the soft material would had you freezing the second you stepped outside, even inside the living room you started to tremble a bit.

“You’re right, I wasn’t thinking.” You whisper back, staring ahead at the turn off television. You could look anywhere, minus him.

Sukuna, though, seemed to not want that. More minutes of pure silence and he came near, in his hands two mugs, he gave you one and sat by your side. The steam reaching your cold face was nothing compared to his body heat by your side, it was soothing and it made you want to crawl inside his arms and sleep.

It was no secret of you affection to him, but it was also not something anyone dare to talk about, him much less. Besides, the only time this devotion ever come to the surface, was with Nobara a few days ago, in this same place, on the couch, exactly 4am.

“Do you—“ Your words die when you drown them with the hot chocolate, the burn numbing your tongue for a few seconds of silence where his eyes are on you, solely. “—do you really listen to anything said here?”

“Sometimes.” Sukuna answers, sipping from his own drink. “It’s not on my control, it just happens. Like right now, I heard your breathing and moving to the window, and that’s how I came.” He closes his eyes for a second, before drinking again. “Very rude, by the way, I was about to sleep and you walked like a horse galloping.”

“I’m sorry.” You whisper back, avoiding the constant need to look at him.

“You own me a secret.” He says out of nowhere, making you nearly choke on your beverage. You face him, confused. “You told me that you would give me a secret later, remember? I want one.”

“No.” You answer right away, moving to set your empty mug on the coffee table before incredulously laughing at him. “What’s in it for me? I don’t trust you.” It’s a lie, you do trust him, but your secrets as of recently had been paired with his name in red ink, he could never know.

“I tell you one of my secrets.” That’s something.

Sukuna has always been a secretive guy, although he had no control of the curse possessing him, the male still hide it better than his brother. What you could say about Sukuna was his favorite color (red), his disdain for your friend group and that he one day planed to go on a years long road trip that you have kept him away from. Until everyone that wanted him was six feet under, at least.

“What secret?” You ask, body turning on the couch to face him, your knees resting on his thigh and instantly burning up all the way to your cheeks.

“No, you tell me first, and I’ll tell you right after.” He shakes his head, a smile forming on his lips.

“How can I trust you?” Are you seriously debating it?

“You just have to.”

Your options are few, you are an open book, there is only two secrets you hide from Sukuna. The one that you became a killer because of him, and the one that you are in love with him. He could hate you, could be offended by both. The always so prideful Sukuna would burn this building with rage if he knew what you do, as if he was an unprotected person.

Should you take this opportunity to know him more, one you sense no one has ever come closer, or that he wouldn’t grant you ever again. It was in the cold living room with his warm burning eyes and presence you weighted your options.

“I might have a romantic affection for someone we know.” You half tell him one of your secrets.

“Who?” He asks right away, soft eyes replaced by sharp ones.

“Doesn’t matter, you tell me now.” You tap his thigh.

“Fine, if you’re breaking the rules, I’ll do it as well.” Sukuna clicks his tongue, a sarcastic smile plastering his face. “I know something about you, that you have been hiding.”

Fuck.

“Was it what I just told you?” Couldn’t be, he just asked who, but he could also be playing a game. Sukuna can get cruel like that.

“Can’t say,” the smile grows larger. “give me one more secret, a full one.”

“Promise me you won’t burn anyone in this building.” Your voice catches you by surprise, you couldn’t be seriously accepting to lay your bare self to him, could you?

“Is it that weird neighbor that gives you his morning papers puzzles?” Sukuna disgusted face makes you laugh, and he follows with a snort. “Or is it my brother? Sorry, love, you should know he is already invested in Megumi.”

“Is none of them, Kuna!” The nickname slips from your lips before you can bite it, if he notices he doesn’t show, but the point of his ears are growing red. So cute, sometimes he reminds you he is not an old grumpy cat, but just a boy, from your age, who has been through too much. Sure, if he wants, he can bring the whole city to the ground, but in this moment, finishing his hot chocolate in a spider-man mug and leaving it next to yours, he is just your Kuna. “It’s—you, I like you.”

Time doesn’t stop like you expect it to, but Sukuna does stop moving, like a statue. Almost comical if it wasn’t terrible how simply you confessed. Fuck, you confessed. Reality drawn in you when you feel his thigh under your knee burning more and more, so you remove it and sits normally, staring again at the black television.

“Fuck.” He says, and you close your eyes for a second, fearing the inevitable rejection. “I thought it was going to be the other secret.” From your peripheral vision, you see his messy hair shaking. “I’m not complaining, but I needed you to say it.”

“What are you talking about, Ryōmen?” You look at him, elbows on his knees and head on his hands, he turns back to look at you.

“Ryōmen? Dumbass, I’m Kuna to you.” You nearly laugh with the shocked feeling he gave you. “I— Fuck, listen, I know.” He moves closer, burning you with his body heat, yet you adore the hotness of it, so you move closer as well, you both facing each other. “I heard you with Nobara, yet when you admitted now, it still took me by surprise, not much people can do that, but you keep trying and succeeding.”

Sukuna grabs your hands and move to his lap.

“I reciprocate your feelings. Weirdly, I can handle your loud voice and laugh, and I don’t mind spending my money buying food if it’s at least what you want.” He caress the back of your hand, sometimes grabbing it more. “I know of your little ritual to recharge on the roof, and I know it takes just minutes, but you stayed more and I had to see you, make sure you’re okay.” Sukuna moves his hands to cup your face, the heat in his eyes marking your soul. “And I know that it’s all because of me.”

You gulp the uncertain and fear of what he meant, instead of words, your scrunch your eyebrows at him. Please, you silently beg, don’t mean what I think you do.

“Don’t look at me like that, stupid.” He shakes his head, eyes quickly moving to your lips before going up again. “I know what you’re doing, trying to keep me safe. I admire you for it, but you can’t keep doing this, you understand? It’s my fight, has always been, you’re breaking yourself and your soul for me, and I can’t have it.”

“But…” you stop his rant while moving your hands up to his neck. “…it’s yours. My soul it’s not breaking, if it’s keeping you safe, then it’s only growing stronger, Kuna.”

“You’re stubborn.” He shakes your head softly, as if it can make you change your mind. “No more fighting alone for me, okay? I’ll be there, all the way, every time.”

At your nod, Sukuna lunges at you, moving his hands to your neck and kissing you roughly. It seems he was as starved as you, both craving the other in ways never once reached or talked about. Wether it was true or not, had you been bending and corrupting your soul for Sukuna, you would keep doing it, if only it meant this was always going to be the result in the end — be kissed by his hot lips, keeping away the cold of the night that once soothed you. You realized, in that moment, fire has always been more of your choice than ice.

He was perfection in the way he kissed you, with bites and the wetness of his tongue, Sukuna used his strength to move you both to his room. He had you now, exactly where you both are meant to be. You had loved Sukuna for being safe is his room, and soon realized that you were one more addition to his sacred space.

No one, no men with evil intentions or hearts filled with hate could ever come near him, you made sure of that, and glued to his body, being devoted like a saint, you knew your fears would vanish with the winter, for that one scent he had, always a secret to you, came to your senses after more hours under him — Sukuna smelled of ashes and smoke, ready to burn whatever stood in yours and his way.

#♱ 𓂃 ࣪ ˖ on stage ! ᯤ #jujutsu kaisen #jjk #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #sukuna ryomen #ryomen sukuna #sukuna #jjk sukuna #jujutsu kaisen sukuna #jujutsu sukuna #sukuna x reader #sukuna x you #sukuna x y/n #sukuna fluff

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wangxianficfinder · 4 months

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In the mood for...

May 31st

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1. A) Hi I'm looking for fics where Wei Wuxian actually gets angry after lan Wangji r-words (rapes) him.

B) ITMF fics where wwx and lz fight over their kid(s) and wwx is trying to stop lz from taking the kid(s) away @thehappyyellow (In the future please use the full word or 'non-con' for clarity and for possible phrase filtering ~Mod L)

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2. So I saw a reel on insta the other day where someone was like: bloodbenders on a battlefield, controlling corpses. And my thoughts immediately went to an untamed/avatar the last airbender fusion? Firebending wen, energy bending removing "golden core equivalents", water bender &/or energy bender wwx, nonbender jyl...jin= n water tribe, Jiang south. Nie=earthbenders, lan=airbenders. Idk. Lost avatar. Hunting spirits to bond with to get more bending/be more powerful. Big wars in both, lots options

Avatar: The Untamed Waterbender by KouriArashi (T, 181k, wangxian, JC/WQ, JC & WWX & JYL, Avatar fusion, action/adventure, families of choice, light angst, developing relationship, hurt/comfort, pining)

Brightly Burning by Netrixie (Not Rated, 11k, WangXian, Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, No Yin Iron, Touch-Starved, Tiny Angst, Slow Burn, Pre-Relationship, LXC is a good big bro, Element control, [PODFIC] Brightly Burning by Netrixie by kealdrakemna)

Heart of the River by meyari (T, 23k, XuanLi, JYL/MM/WQ, WangXian, ChengQing, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, No Yīn Iron (The Untamed TV), fire manipulation, Water Manipulation, Drowning, War, major character death (no one we care about), most people live / some people die, BAMF JYL)

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3. Hi! For itmf I am looking for fics where WWX and LWJ are together (or confess, or kiss, or something romantic happens), then they split up for a long time, and then get back together. Preferably canon era (not modern). I would love to read about their time apart as well as their reunion, if any fics like this can be found! Thanks, everyone! xoxo

there's no promised goodbye here by Yuisaki (T, 54k, WangXian, WWX & WN, JC & WWX, WWX/OCs, Modern, Post-Break Up, Roommates, Domestic Fluff, Drunken Shenanigans, Sharing a Bed, Cuddling & Snuggling, Sharing Clothes, Drinking, Fluff and Angst, Pining, Angst with a Happy Ending, Getting Back Together, Ensemble Cast,bUnreliable Narrator,bCW IN BEGINNING NOTES)

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4. Do you know any daemon au where the daemon isn't tied to the golden core? (because losing his GC is already a lot so losing also his daemon would be a real torture for both JC and WWX)

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5. Do you know any fics where we have both wangxian and Mingjue/Xichen? Not in a modern au but in the canon or in a canon divergeance/time-travel/etc

A Future Family In A Broken Past by Hauntcats (T, 121k, wangxian, time travel, not jiang friendly)

🧡 All will be well when the day is done by abCEE (T, 76k, wangxian, time travel, canon divergence, fix it, not YZY friendly, not Jiang friendly, butterfly effect, no sunshot, madam lan lives, lan WWX)

🔒 in the shadow of moonlit flowers by Reverie (cl410) (T, 56k, wangxian, LXC/NMJ, cloud recesses, NHS & LWJ friendship, developing relationship, LWJ pov, minor injuries, autistic LWJ, implied/referenced child abuse, aka YZY warning, genius WWX, light angst, hurt/comfort, WWX protection squad)

No Paths Are Bound by stiltonbasket (G, 3k, WangXian, NieLan, Canon Divergence, Fix-It, LQR is a good uncle, and also a good man, shufu saves the world, Background Relationships, Introspection, Happy Ending, title shamelessly stolen from tian guan ci fu, mild warning for implied nc re: madam lan)

Blooming in white by luckymoonly (T, 38k, wangxian, JYL/JZX, MM/WQ, NMJ/LXC, NHS/JC, Canon Divergence, Mpreg, Getting Together, Fluff and Angst, Happy Ending, hidden pregnancy, Mutual Pining, Drama, Misunderstandings, Everyone Lives AU, Miscommunication, WWX and NHS are BFF, matchmaker NHS, Fix-It)

~*~

6. Hello! Could you lovely folks recommend me fics where Lan Wangji just about launches himself at Wei Wuxian at the Banquet after WWX drinks the cup Jin Zixun tried to force Lan Wangji to drink? Please? @kaitou-cure-prism12

My request was about the horny not about LWJ being worried or terrified.

Give Me One Good Honest Kiss by thunderwear (T, 1k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, First Kiss, horny LWJ agenda, LXC is suffering in LQR's name, [PODFIC] Give Me One Good Honest Kiss by thunderwear) If 6 wanted Lan Wangji launching himself at Wei Wuxian because he thinks it's hot that he drank the wine (rather than out of fear or concern), then Give Me One Good Honest Kiss

~*~

7. hey admins! itmf more fics like 'transcend' by covalentbonds where people react to wwx og body or just his beauty in general. extra bonus where lwj gets jealous. thank you <3

~*~

8. Hi!! I am in the mood for a fic where Wei Wuxian dies but he hangs around as a ghost or raised corpse. I would love it if he is still a very active/central character to the fic (just, ya know, dead). Thank you!

asymptotic by chinxe (T, 26k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Angst with a Happy Ending, Slow Burn, Misunderstandings, Pining, for 20+ years as per the course with lwj)

one good thing by Yuu_chi (T, 26k, WangXian, Modern, Ghost WWX, Angst and Humor, Angst with a Happy Ending, I swear there really is a happy ending, And an alarming amount of rabbits)

Friends, Sabers, and Other Essentials for Solving a Conspiracy by MeridianGrimm (T, 50k, NHS & WWX, LWJ & NHS, WangXian, Humor, Friendship, Love, Mystery, Canon Divergence, Smart NHS, WWX doesn't stay dead, LWJ gets a new friend, Happy Ending, Fix-It, To be clear the WangXian is mostly background, This fic is about friendship)

🧡 Vow by draechaeli (E, 216k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, BeliefGod!WWX, Adoption but WWX birthed them all, Pregnancy Kink, Mpreg, minor male lactation, Consensual Non-Consent, Light Bondage, Non-Graphic Rape/Non-Con because JGS, Mentions Canon Typical Incest, Canon Typical Violence)

Death of a Ghost by Gotcocomilk (E, 107k, Family bonding, Fluff, Angst, Parental WWX, BAMF WWX, Hurt/Comfort, Ghost sex)

Ghost of Mine by SasukiMimochi (E, 139k, WIP, LSZ & WWX, WangXian, Golden Core Reveal, Canon Temporary Character Death, Found Family, Hurt/Comfort, Supernatural Elements, Canon-Typical Violence, Post-First Siege of the Burial Mounds, Romance, Domestic Fluff, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Alternate Canon) This one Will make you cry and it’s mainly in WWX’s pov. (It’s also got Amazing art)

🔒 The Time Traveler's Soul by mondengel (Not Rated, 2k, WangXian, Time Travel, 🔒[PODFIC] The Time Traveler's Soul by flamingwell) WWX does die and come back as a ghost in this, but he comes back pre-canon because of time travel. Hopefully this still fits what OP is asking for!

~*~

9. Hii. So basically right now I'm looking for some fics that can basically be anything but it's has to have a scene or scenes of the Jiang sibs being jealous. Whether they are jealous of Wei Ying with the Lans or him with the Wens. I just want them to have a scene or scene with them going "he's supposed to be here not there" etc. @thatperson0-0

💖 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)

The Price of a Golden Core by AshayaTReldai (M, 9k, WangXian, Angst, Tension, Aggression, JC pays the price for his choices, demanding letters, JC is a Brat, Supportive Lan Brothers, WWX deserves the best, Life Debt, Sad Ending Sad Ending for JC)

Like stones on an unseen board by Vir_Abelasan (Not Rated, 11k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Dark LWJ, Older LWJ, Teacher LWJ, dark twin jades, Age Difference, Manipulation, Protective LWJ, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Corporal Punishment, Relatively canon-typical abusive Jiangs, WangXian Get a Happy Ending, Not JC Friendly, Not Jiang Clan Friendly)

~*~

10. Hello hi? I want to know if there’s a fanfic where the juniors get to meet with past family (like sizhui to meet head disciple Wei wuxian, or Jin Rulan to meet his young parents) and such ? Or even just all of them meeting the past in general, anything associated with the idea

Time, Time, Time by skeletonofaplant (G, 44k, WangXian, JYL/JZX, LSZ & WWX, JYL & JZX & JL, LSZ & LJY, Time Travel Fix-It, Burial Mounds Settlement Days, Identity Porn, Identity Reveal, Probably gonna definitely be some, Angst, But also, Fluff, Junior Quartet Dynamics, Time Travelling Junior Ensemble, Junior Ensemble Shenanigans, Humor) Has the Junior Quartet finding themselves in the past & meeting various characters

River Stones by littlesystems (M, 18k, WangXian, Time Travel, Post-Canon, Cloud Recesses Study Arc, Junior Quartet, Oblivious WWX, Suffering LWJ, LJY having the time of his life, Voyeurism) CRSA-era WWX & LWJ end up in the future & interact with the Juniors while there

A Room Full of Dead People by BurningBlueDiamond (T, 10k, WangXian, Time Travel, Fix-It, but not really, Canon Divergence, Conference in Qinghe but canonically they stay in Gusu, strangely fluffy, POV Outsider)

❤️ Tragedy is Not the End by Hobbsy3 (T, 358k, wangxian, Time Travel, Torture, Hurt/Comfort, Golden Core Reveal, Canon Divergence from Qiongqi Pass, Angst with a Happy Ending, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Yunmeng sibling bonding, good dad wwx, good dad lwj, JZX Lives, JYL Lives, Junior Quartet Dynamics)

Time Travel, Obviously by nirejseki (Not Rated, 1k, Time Travel, Crack) feature the Junior Quartet time traveling.

The Trouble with Talismans: a Treatise on Time-Travel by Young Master Lan Xiaohui (Age 6) by stiltonbasket (G, 26k, wangxian, Time Travel, Parenthood, Developing Relationship, Getting Together, Happy ending, Accidental Baby Acquisition)

How to get anxiety from time trave and not mess up (by fall out boy) by SerlinaBlack (T, 5k WangXian, Time Travel, Post-Canon, Fluff, Family Fluff, Cloud Recesses Study Arc, Pining LWJ, Pining WWX, WWX in WWX's Body, Slightly, Canon JC, he isn't there much, like two lines mentioned at tops, but JC fans might jot like it) feature Lan Sizhui and sibs meeting past Lan Wangji and others.

Song of Joy and Regrets by HelloKitten (Not Rated, 134k, wangxian, hualian, WIP, TGCF, Angst, Self-Harm, Child Abuse, characters watching their series, Time Travel Fix-it)

Spring Again by Saori (M, 646k, JL & LJY & LSZ, Post-Canon, Canon Compliant, Canon Divergence, Canon Era, Time Travel, Canon-Typical Violence, CQL Canon Complaint, Spoilers, Platonic Relationships, Friendship, Action/Adventure, Violence, Investigations, Mystery, Punishment, Angst, War, Canonical Character Death, Slow Build, Burial Mounds, Sunshot Campaign, Implied/Referenced Torture, Politics)

~*~

11. Hi!! is there any modern au fics where wwx gets a boyfriend or a hickey or something and LWJ gets jealous @yesibest

~*~

12. itmf wangxian pride and prejudice au??

only the deepest love by occultings (microcomets) (T, 40k, WangXian, Pride and Prejudice Fusion, Canon Divergence, Jane Austen Fusion, Slow Burn, Mutual Pining, Misunderstandings, Epistolary, (briefly), Everyone Lives, Podfic Available)

Half Agony, Half Hope by queenklu (T, 105k, WangXian, LXC/JGY, JC/WQ, JYL/JZX, LXC/NMJ, Jane Austen Fusion, persuasion au, Pining, Broken Engagement, Secrets, Espionage, Child Injury, Terrible Parents (YZY & JFM), Past Child Neglect)

Clans and Cultivation by ChalionKat (G, 86k, WangXian, JC/WQ, JYL/JZX, SL/XXC, WIP, Regency AU, Pride and Prejudice Fusion, Yes we did just rewrite P&P with Untamed characters, although the plot diverges more later, spelling mistakes are deliberate because Austen)

~*~

13. for the next itmf, im craving some really good worldbuilding, im obsessed when the little details of everyday life are explored, be it on cultivation (when they aknowledge that wwx created a wholenew school of cultivation when he started gui dao), architecture, cuisine, clothing, etc.

it can even be a whole new au, that is not in the canon setting but has at least some supernatural going on, and follows book canon and characterization.

🧡🔒Truth Will Out (when caught on video) - End_OTW_Racism! by KizuKatana (E, 179k, wangxian, WN & WWX & WQ, graphic depictions of violence, modern cultivation, canon divergence, YZY abuses WWX , caught on camera, partial core removal, WWX kicked out of Jiang sect, livestreamer WWX, meet ugly, dual cultivation, smut, no war)

🧡 The Shade of Old Trees by Kryal (T, 363k, WangXian, Ridiculously Long Notes, History, Canon Divergence, Modern AU, Slow Burn, Worldbuilding, Slow Life, Action/Adventure, Magic Returns, BAMF WWX)

when the sun goes out by travelingneuritis (E, 174k, WangXian, Modern Cultivation, tech cultivation, Necromancy, Angst with a Happy Ending, insecurity around adoption, Dad WWX, dad LWJ, Grief/Mourning, Mistaken Identity, Mood Whiplash, Body Swap, sex tears, Falling In Love, Consensual Somnophilia, apocalypse (localized), Smut, unrealistic sexual stamina, Flashbacks, Time Skips, Illustrations, Horror, Canon Temporary Character Death, Cultivation Sect Politics)

🔒 he’s worth it, for every bead in his hair by overgrownruins (E, 74k, WangXian, LXC/NMJ, minor NMJ/WWX, MBJ/SQH, A Companion to Wolves AU, Minor Character Death, Animal Death, Wolves, Attempted Sexual Assault, Canon-Typical Violence, Explicit Sexual Content, Anal Sex, Anal Fingering, Outdoor Sex, Period-Typical Homophobia, Period-Typical SexismNordic Setting, References to Norse Religion & Lore, Minor Breeding Kink, you know how it is with wangxian)

sweet chaos by eachandeverydimension (G, 86k, WangXian, Arranged Marriage, Canon Divergence, Fluff, Romance, Light Angst, Falling In Love, Different First Meeting, Qīnghéng-jūn’s A+ Parenting, Night Hunts, Chinese Language, Good Sibling LXC, Good Sibling JYL, POV LWJ, Getting Together, Love Confessions, First Kiss, Chinese Culture, Slow Burn, No Homophobia AU) sweet chaos has lots of references to culture and daily life

Grave dirt by esama (T, 92k, wangxian, canon divergence, necromancy, demonic cultivation, farming, found family, pre-slash, politics, Fix-it of sorts, yilingwei sect au) and Grave dirt for Wei Wuxian creating a sect based on demonic cultivation.

transmuter by WithLoweredVoices (Not rated, 113k, wangxian, Modern with Magic, Magical Realism, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Angst with a Happy Ending) an incredible and underrated modern with magic (but not cultivation)

As You Like It by cosmicmilktea (T, 8k, WangXian, JC & WWX, LXC & WWX, Chief Cultivator LWJ, Food as a Metaphor for Love, Tea, Finding out preferences, Yes LWJ likes his WWX but what else does he like?, Childhood Memories, Yunmeng trio feels, child rearing, This is very indulgent tho like all I want is for LWJ to be pampered, Post-Canon, Very Very Light Angst, Fluff)

A Mother's Love by FirefliesNLightningBugs (M, 170k, WangXian, XuanLi, Canon Divergence, Somebody Lives/Not Everyone Dies, Mostly combo of the Untamed and MoDaoZuShi timelines, Unreliable Narrator, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Eventual Happy Ending, Miscommunication, Family Feels, Found Family, PTSD, Post-Sunshot Campaign, Political Intrigue, Mystery, POV Multiple, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Strong Female Characters, Additional Warnings In Author's Note, Good Brother In Law JZX, Genderbent WWX, Intersex WWX, not a/b/o, POV Original Character, Expanded Universe, Unplanned Pregnancy, Golden Core Reveal, WWX Has No Golden Core, Cultivation Sect Politics, Bisexual WWX, YLLZ WWX, Yunmeng Shuangjie, Pining WangXian, Parent-Child Relationship, Getting Together, Protective Yúnmèng Jiāng Sect, MXY Lives) has a lot of worldbuilding. At one point author comes up with a mph for sword flight and how it compares to other types of travel, and wwx gui dao is a key point

~*~

14. Itmf a ff similar to concord by deastar with wwx slowly getting depressed after marrying to the Lan clan, the more gut wrenching the better, thanks 💕

a light hidden and singing by occultings (microcomets) (E, 48k, wangxian, arranged marriage, pining, getting together, slow burn, misunderstandings, miscommunication, blood & injury, happy ending, smut)

Mourning Robes by Starlight1395 (T, 17k, wangxian, No Sunshot Campaign, Arranged Marriage AU, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Happy Ending, Depression, dissociating, Mild Blood, Fluff, juniors idolizing WWX like he deserves, slowburn between WWX and Cloud Recesses, Hinted smut, Jingyi has a CRUSH, Supportive JC, Mojo’s Post) 14 is nearly identical to request 14 on the May 26th ITMF. These are the ones I suggested for that post: a light hidden and singing and Mourning Robes but maybe today's poster is looking for more in the same vein?

Betrothed by Dixielis (E, 10k, WangXian, A/B/O Dynamics, Hybrids, Fox WWX, Dragon LWJ, Arranged Marriage, Omega WWX, Alpha LWJ, Top LWJ/Bottom WWX, Miscommunication, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Mildly Dubious Consent, Mpreg, Unplanned Pregnancy)

To Bring You Back Within My Reach by ablaiseofglory (M, 20k, WIP, WangXian, Arranged Marriage, Angst with a Happy Ending, No dubious consent, Adopted Children, Kid Fic, A/B/O Dynamics, omega wwx, Alpha LWJ, Misunderstandings) I think it's abandoned but it's one of my favourite wips.

~*~

15. Hello! ITMF favorite canon-era (not modern) Song Lan/Xiao Xingchen fics? Or, WangXian fics where the Song Lan and Xiao Xingchen feature prominently? Thank you!!

~*~

16. In the mood for: Wei Wuxian living his best life as Lan Wangji’s trophy husband being spoiled every single day

Thank you in advance I really appreciate all the suggestions you usually deliver everyone 😘 @kanrax-blog

🔒 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 WWX, But quickly discovers both his competency kink and a caretaking kink, Genius WWX)

🔒To Make Him a Perfect Bride by Hinu (E, 139k, WangXian, Modern AU, Top LWJ/Bottom WWX, Feminization, Crossdressing, Marriage Proposal, Romantic Comedy, Meet the Family, Homophobia, Cultural Differences, Discrimination, Wealth kink, Potentially Unhealthy Beauty Standards, Rich LWJ, Power Bottom WWX, Sugar Daddy LWJ, Plot With Porn, Mild Kink, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Coming Out, Implied Canon-Typical Child Abuse, Phone Sex in Public, Sexual Harassment, competent wwx, Financial Domination, Sexual Roleplay, Light BDSM, WWX's dog phobia, Submissive LWJ, Blood, Smoking, Mental Health Issues, Panic Attacks, WWX's dissociative panic attacks in later chapters, Gay LWJ, Protective LWJ, Weddings, Wedding Planning, Secret Relationship, Genderqueer WWX, BAMF NHS, Gay WWX, LWJ and WWX Have a Breeding Kink, fem! WWX is A-Jingyi's and A-Yuan's sexual awakening, Office Sex, Airplane Sex, Happy Ending, Class Differences, Crazy Rich Asians Fusion) So Full Of Love (Wouldn’t Know Where to Start) by witchupbitch (M, 63k, WIP, WangXian, Best Friends, Friends to Lovers, Fluff, Eventual Romance, Eventual Sex, Possessive LWJ, Protective LWJ, Blood and Violence, Idiots in Love, Humor, Mafia AU, Modern AU, Flirting, shameless WWX, Confident WWX, Explicit Language, Mutual Sexual Tension, dark LWJ, Dark WWX, Exhibitionism Sex, Possessive Behavior, Unhealthy Relationships, Twisted and Fluffy Feelings)

~*~

17. For the next itmf, does anyone have any good WWX harem or happy poly fics? Like the Jades Lotus where WWX was with both jades and they were all happy and sweet? Please and ty!!

With This Shadowed Blade by Anonymous (M, 134k, WWX/LXC/LWJ/NMJ/NHS, WIP, WWX has a romantic harem, WWX Gets a Hug, Slow Burn, Dragon LWJ, Dragon WWX , WWX is a magical dragon, Polyamory, Angst with a Happy Ending, WWX is Loved, Bad Parent YZY, Creature Inheritance, Creature Fic, Dragel Dynamics, Dragel fic, WWX Needs a Hug, Hurt/Comfort, Implied Past Child Abuse) might like, it’s WWX with LWJ/LXC/NMJ/NHS and has some good fluffy moments but is a little angsty too and is not very jiang friendly but has lots of worldbuilding and everyone’s a dragon

We can fix that by Spindoctor (E, 73k, WWX/LWJ/NMJ, WIP, Threesome - M/M/M, NMJ Lives, Arranged Marriage, Oral Sex,bAnal Sex,bCock Warming, Caretaking, Light BDSM, Thigh jobs, Everyone Loves WWX, Canon Divergence, Fix-It, Frottage, Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Starvation, Canon-Typical Violence, Starvation recovery, PTSD, PTSD RECOVERY, Suicidal Ideation, Scars, Discussion of Surgery, mild body horror, discussion of starvation, body talk, Nightmares, screaming ghosts, WWX's canonical cnc kink, cnc fantasies, Light Bondage, tender fucking, instead of talking about feelings, Slow Burn, JYL Lives, BAMF JYL, Erectile Dysfunction, Weight Gain,bChapter Specific Tags in Beginning Notes) NMJ/LWJ/WWX, a lot of fluff and healing. Might have a conflict in the future but it's ongoing and currently there's not any mention of future conflict I can remember

~*~

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!***

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

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zerobonline · 5 months

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#iron removal filter #iron water filter #iron filter #iron removal filter for home #iron remover for water #water filter to remove iron #Youtube

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heaven-s-black-box · 2 months

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Permafrost- Wriothesley x fem!Reader

Return to File

Recovery date: July 27th, 2024

Description: Hello I was wondering if you could write a Wriothesley x female reader story where the reader is always a kind and gentle person and was there during Wriothesley's story quest

Notes: This work was recovered in conjunction with an anonymous researcher, we thank them for their contributions. This is pre-relationship, where Wrio and reader are kind of skirtting around their feelings.

Word count: 775

Back to directory

The Duke of the Fortress of Meropide rules with an Iron fist. Or an Iron gauntlet, perhaps? A frozen gauntlet! Sigewinne had laughed one day at lunch with Y/n. As the two nurses sorted through patient files, trying to find… neither remembers what. All that mattered was what the head nurse said next; But, you’re like the frozen ground hiding underneath. Before Y/n could ask for an elaboration, the Melusine offered her a bite of her lunch insisting she was too focused on the papers.

The Duke does not need to explain himself, he answers only to the court itself under the most dire of circumstances.

Wriothesley, answers to Y/n.

“Stop avoiding the question.”

Y/n stood between Wriothesly and his door, drawing the attention of nearby residents and guards. All eyes quickly passed over them though, as Wriothesly sent them warning glares before focusing back on the woman in front of him. She was holding the door behind her closed, even though he could easily over power her and open it.

He sighed. “Can we continue this conversation inside?”

“Of course, you know where the nurse’s office is. I’m sure Sigewinne will be happy to examine you,” Y/n chirped.

From anyone else the tone would have sounded sarcastic and sassy, but she made it sound so genuine. It was genuine.

That’s part of what irked him so much.

“Y/n.”

“Your grace.”

With a sigh, he continued forward until he towered over her and placed a hand on the door– trapping her in. He watched her weight shift so she was no longer leaning on the door, and then opened it.

Y/n slipped in, and he trailed behind with an order to the guards to not let anyone in unless it was an emergency.

The door closed with a resounding thud, and Wriothesly immediately found himself right back under her worried gaze. She barely had a chance to open her mouth, the sound of his name caught in her throat, as he scooped her into his arms.

Wriothesly buried his face in the crook of her neck, inhaling deeply.

“Wrio,” Y/n called softly, pulling his coat from his shoulders and letting it drop to the floor so she could rub his back, “are you okay?”

“I just need a second.”

Y/n could feel a faint shake in his hands where they rested against her waist. She’d heard what happened from the guards and the patients she’d just finished tending to, but she didn’t like hearing, she liked being told. She liked when Wriothesly opened up about what was going on in his head.

She moved one hand up to his hair and began carding her fingers through, twirling pieces and scratching at his scalp. The other rubbed soothingly at his back as her head fell against his and she listened to his breathing, feeling it warm her skin,

He takes a sudden deep breath and pulls away, dragging his hands along her waist like he doesn’t want to let go. Eventually his hands do leave her, and he clears his throat as he picks up his coat and drapes it over one arm.

“Thank you, I’m okay now.”

“I heard Dougier didn’t land any hits, but I wanted to make sure you weren’t just hiding things.”

Wriothesely scoffed, “Like he could get a hit off on me.”

“He had a gun.”

“And I didn’t get shot.” Y/n sighed, rolling her eyes fondly. “Now, if that’s all, I’m sure you have much to do.”

Y/n frowned. “I should probably start looking for a way to remove those thorns…”

“Let me know if there’s anything I can do to help.”

“Of course.”

Y/n didn’t move, and neither did the Duke, as the silence bled into the room. The sounds of the fortress faintly filtered through the cracks in the door, but even they weren’t enough to stave off the atmosphere that grew.

“I’m glad you’re okay,” Y/n said finally. “I’ll be off now, if you need me you know where to find me.”

She bowed. When she started for the door, Wriothesly jumped into action, beating her there and holding it open.

“Thank you for your concern, I’ll be sure to look for you if anything comes up.”

“Goodbye, your grace.”

“Goodbye, Y/n.”

He waved, even though she was no longer watching him, before shutting himself back in his office, all the while Sigewinne watched from the hall to the nurse’s office.

The Duke reigned with a frozen gauntlet, cool and strong, and just below that ice was a grassy land holding it up.

#researcher s's recovery #genshin impact #genshin impact wriothesley #wriothesley #wriothesley x reader #x reader #female reader #oneshot #genshin impact oneshot #fluff

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runariya · 2 months

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Three-Shot: Infinity (JJK) • 1

pairing: alien!Jungkook x human!reader genre: alien!AU, dystopian!AU, dark, angst, S2L rating: 18+, MDNI warnings: DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT, captivity, MC's cell is the filthiest place in existence, physical harm, MC is a test object, prostitution against will, drugging, death of mentioned friend/family, suicide attempts, pulling of fingernails and toenails, failed escapes, gore, angst, panic attacks, malnutrition, please lmk if I forgot something word count: 3.287

a/n: This work is purely fictional. All characters and events are entirely imaginary and do not reflect reality. Please do not use this story as your own. No translations are allowed without permission. Thank you for understanding! 💕

MASTERLIST • 02 • 03

Year 3709

You wake to the familiar sound of dripping water, the rhythmic tap of soiled liquid against the stone floor counting the seconds, minutes, hours of your endless captivity. The air around you suffocating with the stench of mildew and decay, continuously reminding you of the cell’s dampness. Your breath forms clouds of mist in the freezing air, visible even in the low light seeping through the narrow slit high in the wall, the only connection to the world outside your prison.

Your cell, a narrow rectangle of concrete and iron, is barely wide enough for you to stretch out both your arms without brushing the icy walls. The rough stone floor is slick with gooey moisture, perpetually wet, seeping through your thin, tattered clothing and chilling your bones for days on end. The ceiling, low enough that you can touch it when you stand on your tiptoes, is a mosaic of black mold and peeling paint—something you learned from the time you resisted being pulled from your cell.

In one corner, a rusted metal bucket serves as your latrine, its putrid stench a constant assault on your senses. The bucket overflows frequently, its contents sloshing onto the floor to mingle with the ever-present puddles. Opposite, a single iron cot is bolted to the wall and the mattress lying on it, is a threadbare remnant of its former self, its stuffing long gone, leaving only a few stubborn springs that dig into your flesh each night. The scratchy, coarse blanket provides little warmth against the biting cold, and you often wake shivering, your teeth and limbs chattering uncontrollably.

The days here are indistinguishable from the nights, a ceaseless parade of darkness day in and day out. The only light comes from the slit in the wall, which is sometimes covered by a thick, opaque sheet to plunge you into total blackness if they see fit. You have learned to hate this darkness, for it brings with it the scuttling of unseen vermin and the oppressive weight of isolation. When the sheet is removed, a sickly, green light filters in, casting eerie shadows that dance across the walls, transforming your cell into a landscape of nightmares you can't escape.

There’s silence surrounding you if it weren’t for the endless dripping. Not even a sound from neighbouring captives is heard. You weren’t always alone. Jenny, once your cellmate, the only other human you had ever seen. She was your friend. Your only family, a fragile connection that scared off the isolation you now have to embrace to stay sane. Despite your efforts to protect each other, one day they took her away. That day, she didn’t return like she always did. Like you always did when they took you. That day, she was gone. And without her, you were alone.

Your lungs feel heavy today, and each breathe is a struggle, a fight against the encroaching dampness that seeks to claim you. Your captors care little for your comfort or health; they provide just enough to keep you alive, a thin gruel that tastes of ashes and despair, and a trickle of water from a rusty pipe that runs along one wall.

The pipe is the only constant source of noise, gurgling and hissing as if it were alive, mocking you with its endless, meaningless chatter. The water that drips from it is icy cold, and you often have to cup your hands and drink quickly before the chill numbs your bony fingers. Your captors use the pipe to deliver their torturous messages, their disembodied voices echoing through the metal, words distorted and sinister. Only there to mock you. They speak in a language you barely understand, a guttural, alien tongue that makes you want to vomit.

Kaldreks, you’ve learned. The most vile species known in all galaxies. Towering, gaunt figures with pale, frostbitten skin and luminescent green eyes that pierce through the darkness. Their elongated limbs, webbed for navigating their swampy world, end in razor-sharp claws, also used to inflict the worst wounds you had the honour to experience.

Jagged, icy exoskeletons cover their bodies, providing both armour and a terrifying appearance. Sharp, serrated teeth protrude from their snarling mouths, perfect for rending flesh.

Your body bears the marks of their cruelty. Scars crisscross your skin, each one a relict to their unspeakable experiments and tortures. Your muscles are weak from malnutrition and disuse, your bones aching with a dull, constant pain. Each movement is an effort, showing off your frailty and their power. They come for you at irregular intervals, dragging you from your cell to a sterile, white room where the cold is even more intense, biting into your barely covered flesh like thousand needles.

It was at the beginning of your captivity when they started to probe and prod, their instruments of metal and glass invading your body, extracting fluids, inserting needles. You and Jenny were a specimen to them, a curiosity to be studied and dissected. Their faces never hidden behind masks, their eyes devoid of any empathy or recognition of your suffering. They spoke in low murmurs, their voices blending with the hum of their machinery, discussing your fate as if you were dead meat and nothing more.

Your fate arrived sooner than you expected, knocking you over at full force. When they tired of using your body as a test subject, they found other purposes for it. Purposes specialised into the pleasures of other species.

At first, they seized you and scrubbed you clean with freezing water. Standing naked and chained from the celling, they prepared you with various oils with their webbed claws, as cold as the water, coating your skin. You learned quickly that their touch on your pussy wasn't the worst. No, the worst came after they finished their preparations.

Over time, you were used by all sorts of species in the galaxy. Fucked until your holes bled. Bitten and scratched until you passed out from blood loss. Drugged to be fucked again. Woken only to be violated once more. Choked until you thought you had finally died, only to wake with a dick bigger than your thigh being shoved into your mouth, or worse.

Even though the Kaldreks subjected you to unspeakable horrors and other species weren't far behind, it is the Nepturians who instil the deepest fear. Their human-like appearance, marked only by bioluminescent markings on their arms and spine, along with their imposing height, makes all the nightmares seem like a fairytale. You learned that Nepturians are typically monogamous, bonding for life. Yet, with their females dying for unknown reasons, the surviving males become the coldest of lovers. Their human resemblance haunts you, affecting you more than the others ever could.

You tried to escape more than once, but each attempt ended in failure, teaching you what the Kaldreks were truly capable of. The treatment worsened over time, more often you were used by Nepturians, yet the routine remains the same, spiralling into infinite torture you’re not able to escape.

You tried to take your own life more than once, believing it was the only control you had left. You used your fingernails, attempting to pierce your arteries, succeeding briefly. But the Kaldreks' senses were too sharp, 'saving' you before you could fully succeed. After the second attempt, they pulled out your nails with tongs. For good measure, they did the same to your toenails.

Each time, you are returned to your cell broken, barely conscious, your mind fogging with pain and exhaustion. The cot is a cruel joke, offering no comfort, only a hard surface to collapse upon. Sleep is your only escape, but it is fitful, plagued by nightmares of their touches, of endless moments and cold, inhuman eyes that somehow look human. You wake often, drenched in sweat despite the cold, your heart racing as if trying to escape your chest.

Time has lost all meaning. Days, months, years blend into one another, a seamless continuum of suffering and despair. You have no knowledge of the outside world, no hope of rescue. The Earth as you once knew it only a distant memory, a ghost of a dream long forgotten. The planet has been transformed into a barren, hostile wasteland, and you are its last surviving inhabitant, a relict of a forgotten age and species.

You cling to fragments of memories, half-remembered stories of a blue sky and warm sun, of green fields and the sound of laughter. These memories your only solace, a fragile thread of happiness in a world devoid of light. You wonder if you will ever see the sun again, feel its warmth on your skin, breathe air that is not tainted with misery.

But, your captors are meticulous in their cruelty. They keep you alive, but only just. The silver and pink scars cluttering your body proof enough. You are a tool, a means to an end, a living plaything. They are relentless, their personal gain insatiable, their methods devoid of mercy. You have learned to endure, to survive in the face of unimaginable hardship. Each day a battle, a struggle to cling to the remnants of your humanity in a world determined to strip it away.

Yet, somewhere deep within you, the light remains. A flicker of defiance, a refusal to be broken. You are the last human, the final witness to a world that once was. You hold on to this, clinging to the knowledge that as long as you live, there is still a sliver of hope. The Earth may be dead, but you are not. Not yet.

As the muffled voices echo through the pipes, you strain to discern their words. Hints of a plan for tomorrow seep through, reminding you once again of the relentless cycle that bound you. You know you need to escape now; the uncertainty of time on this planet makes it impossible to know when daylight would bring more torment. The Kaldreks are cruel, but the possibility of freedom flicks in the depths of your mind.

In the dim confines of your cell, you take a moment to assess your surroundings, willing the fog clouding your mind to go away if only for some seconds. Your last attempt to escape through the metal bars had failed, rendering that route impossible now. The chains that hold you are worn but sturdy. The glimmer of moonlight through a narrow vent suggest a weakness—a potential path to freedom, you were too scared to use before. You have watched their routines long enough to understand when they were most distracted. Tonight, you would act.

With caution, you manoeuvre your body, testing the chains for any sign of give. Each movement forcing to be as calculated as possible, the cold metal biting into your skin only moves sporadically and as quietly as possible to not alert the Kaldreks. Their voices fade, replaced by the rhythmic sound of your heart pounding in your chest and ears. Time is slipping away, and you have to move immediately.

You again focus on the vent, its edges slightly corroded. The Kaldreks had grown complacent, and you use that to your advantage. With a surge of adrenaline, you twist and pull at the chains, feeling them loosen just enough to allow your wrists to slip free. The pain is agonising, but you welcome it; the burn a needed confirmation that you are still alive, despite losing more weight to slip through the chains.

Quietly, you approach the vent, each step as careful as possible against the wet floor. Your fingers brush against the cold metal, feeling the contours of the cold opening. It is a tight fit, but desperation fuels your determination and you pull yourself up, squeeze through, the sharp edges grazing your skin, but you push on, driven by the hope of escape.

The passageway is dark, the air even more damp and musty than in your cell. As you crawl, the sounds of the Kaldreks fade completely, replaced by the distant noise of the wild outside. You navigate the narrow tunnel, each twist and turn feeling like an eternity, until you finally emerge into the open air.

Outside, the wild of the Kaldreks’ planet, Morthak, sprawls before you, a labyrinth of dense foliage and shadowy figures. The three moons bath everything in an eerie green glow, illuminating your path into a better life. You take a moment to catch your breath, savoring the taste of freedom mingled with the cold of the night.

Behind you, the sounds of Kaldrek chatter is gone, replaced by the rustling of leaves and the calls of nocturnal creatures. With your heart racing, you plunge into the underbrush, the foliage thick and tangled but a welcome barrier between you and your captors.

As you try to run, you feel the weight of the past begin to lift off your chest. Each step carries you further from the horrors of captivity, and with every heartbeat, the fear begins to wane. Tears start rolling down your cheeks with every step, sobs sporadically escaping your parched throat. The wilderness, though just as deadly for you as a prey species, is a refuge compared to the cold confines of your cell.

The terrain is uneven, but you navigate it somehow unharmed. Shadows dance around you as the night deepens, the sounds of nature becoming a chorus of freedom rather than threat. You feel the cool breeze on your skin, igniting a spark of hope within you.

Eventually, exhaustion claws at your limbs, your vision too blurred from tears, but you push through, knowing safety lay just beyond the next thicket. You stumble through the undergrowth, the moonlights guiding you like a compass. Finally, you reach a small clearing, the weight of your journey settling heavily upon you.

In that moment, you collapse to the ground, the cool earth contrasting with the heat of your racing heart. You roll against the soil, desperately rubbing your body to mask your scent as much as possible. The wilderness envelopes you, and for the first time in what feels like forever, you allow yourself to breathe deeply. You are free, at least for now, hidden in the wild, away from the claws of the Kaldreks.

As you lie there, surrounded by the sounds of nature, the gravity of your escape begins to sink in. You have taken a step toward freedom, and though the journey ahead remains uncertain, the wild holds the promise of survival.

You wake again in a white room, lying on a bed with a thin, soft blanket covering you up to your torso. Your skin tingles with the sensation of cleanliness, the dirt you covered yourself with gone, and you notice you’re dressed in an oversized black shirt. The unfamiliar garment feels alien against your skin. Though you’ve never worn black nor such garment before and the white room looks different from your previous cell, a chilling certainty grips you—you’re back with the Kaldreks. The realisation crashes like a wave of dread through your body, making your sore and tired muscles tense in fright.

Panic sets in right after. Heart racing, you breaths come in rapid, shallow gasps, and it feels as though the walls are closing in around you. You scramble off the bed, blanket thrown off you, your heart pounds in your ears like a war drum. Desperation fuels your movements as you search the room for an escape, every nerve ending on high alert. Your hands claw at the smooth, featureless walls, finding no purchase. The air grows thin, and your vision starts to blur at the edges as hyperventilation takes hold. You stumble, your legs barely able to support your weight, driven by sheer terror.

Every corner of the room mocks your frantic attempts to flee. Your fingers trail over the seamless joinery, seeking a hidden exit, but finding none. The sterile whiteness amplifies your panic, memories flashing one by one before your eyes, each failed effort to find an exit compounding your fear. The room spins as you struggle to draw breath, your chest heaving with the effort. Sweat beads on your forehead, trickling down to sting your eyes. Your mind races, a chaotic flurry of thoughts, each more desperate than the last. You press your ear to the walls, hoping to hear something, anything, that might indicate a way out, but there is only silence.

Suddenly, the only door in the room hisses open with a hydraulic huff, and a Nepturian steps inside. Your worst nightmare manifests before you, making your heart stop immediately. He towers over you by more than half a meter, his features disturbingly human. His skin shimmers with a pale blue hue, his black doe eyes feigning innocence. But you know better than to trust them. His hair, a deep vibrant blue, is buzzed at the sides, the top long enough to partially fall over. He’s dressed in a similar black shirt, though on him it fits tightly, emphasising his dangerous physique. Each step he takes, his combat boots fall heavily onto the floor, his face void of emotion. The weight of his presence presses down on you, suffocating in its intensity.

You notice his markings—they look different from those of other Nepturians—different patterns and colour. Stress clouds your mind, preventing you from discerning whether this difference bodes well or ill for you. The bioluminescent patterns seem to pulse with a life of their own, casting faint glows that dance across the room’s sterile surfaces. You try to recall any fragment of knowledge that might explain these markings, but your thoughts are too scattered. The disparity in his appearance lastly only heightens your fear, leaving you paralysed with uncertainty.

You scramble away from him, your body trembling, adrenaline surging through your veins even more. Your breathing remains shallow, and you sense the impending collapse into unconsciousness. Each movement feels sluggish, as if you’re wading through thick, suffocating air. Your mind screams for you to run, but your body betrays you, locked in a state of primal terror. The room feels smaller, the walls collapsing as the Nepturian advances, his expression unreadable.

“Sit down,” he commands, his voice the softest you’ve heard from his kind. But you’re not surprised by his authoritative words, the courtesies of humanity foreign to other species. His words cut through the haze of your panic, grounding you in the reality of the moment. Yet, the command feels like another layer of your imprisonment, a reminder of the control he wields over you and the things that are going to happen to you. Still, you hesitate, weighing your options, the urge to flee warring with the need to survive.

After all, survival courses through you. You assess the possibility of darting past him to escape. But as you glance into the corridor beyond the door, you realise you’re not with the Kaldreks as you feared—you’re on a spaceship. The sleek, metallic walls and the hum of advanced technology signal a different captor. The realisation confirms your doom, multiplied by the presence of the Nepturian. The corridor stretches out, seemingly endless, but each step you might take towards it feels like a step deeper into your personal hell.

Your eyes snap back to the Nepturian as he repeats, more impatiently, “Sit down.” Seeing no other option, and hoping unconsciousness will soon claim you, you comply. As you lower yourself to the bed, he stands before you and, in that same soft voice you first heard him speak, says, “I won’t hurt you.” His words fail to soothe you; you remain terrified, too traumatised to trust anyone, especially a Nepturian. The tension in your muscles barely eases, your mind vigilant and ready to react at the slightest hint of danger.

MASTERLIST • 02 • 03

a/n 2: thank you so much for reading! lmk what you think - also: tag list, drabble requests and character asks are open

#fic: infinity #bts imagines #bts fanfic #bts army #jungkook x reader #bts jungkook #jeon jungkook #jungkook fanfic #jungkook x you #jungkook imagine #jjk x reader #alien #jungkook #fantasy #dystopia

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jobean12-blog · 1 year

Text

A Kiss to Remember

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader (Vampire AU)

Word Count: 930

Summary: Bucky invites you to spend the weekend at his cottage in the woods.

Author’s Note: This is for @the-slumberparty June Writing Challange. I chose a cottage setting and the item I picked was a sundress. My dear friend Em @weekendgothgirl had shared the gorgeous picture of the cottage you see in my moodboard below and it sparked some real inspo! I love the idea of the dark vs light so I went with that a little bit! Thank you Em for sharing and thank you Navy and Roo for hosting! And thank you all so much for reading! Much love always! ❤️❤️❤️ Dividers by the lovely @firefly-graphics

Warnings: some soft sweet moments, a brief mention of b-l-o-o-d, pretty flowers :)

“I wish I could see more of our surroundings,” you muse as James drives down a secluded road toward his summer cottage.

You press yourself closer to the window, the glass cold to your touch and peer out into the hidden landscape.

“The darkness holds its own beauty,” he answers softly, his long fingers resting on our bare thigh. “Everything is transformed in the absence of daylight.”

Your soft hum of approval makes him smile as he absentmindedly caresses your skin, his touch keeping you warm despite the nighttime chill.

He finally makes a turn down a dirt road that winds around until you’re in a remote part of the woods. Up head, enclosed in a small wrought iron gate you see a cottage.

It’s nestled among a tapestry of vibrant flowers, their colors standing out against the veiled darkness. The silvery moonlight casts long, shadowy silhouettes upon its aged, timbered walls.

Amidst the dense foliage, the somber atmosphere is intensified by the interplay of moonbeams filtering through the twisted branches above, casting a haunting glow upon the colorful petals of the blooms.

Flickering candlelight softly illuminates the cottage’s small, latticed windows and adds a touch of ethereal beauty, inviting and beckoning you inside.

“Oh, Bucky!” you exclaim, your eyes wide. “I can’t wait to see the inside!”

James chuckles, squeezing your leg before he removes his hand and opens the driver side door. He rounds the car and helps you out, taking your hand on his elbow as he walks you down the small brick pathway to the door.

“I can smell the roses,” you whisper, closing your eyes on an inhale.

You sigh quietly, stopping to grasp a stem and press the fragrant petals to your nose.

James watches you, remaining quiet as you take in every little detail of the cottage before stepping into the doorway.

He stares, his blue eyes darkening as he takes you in.

Your bright sundress is a stark contrast to the deep, dark wood of the cottage and the vibrancy of your aura creates a captivating scene.

James steps closer, his large body caging you against the door.

“You’re a vision,” he whispers. “Like a ray of pure sunshine.”

He procures a rose, out of nowhere, and twirls it between his fingers before he glides the silky petals along your collarbone.

When he lifts it to your nose, you let the softness and sweet fragrance fill your senses then take it between your fingers.

His fingertips trace the neckline of your dress, a slow, sensual claiming before moving to the thin strap at your shoulder. He toys with it, letting it slide down so his fingers can continue their perusal.

Your eyelashes flutter along your cheeks and your grasp tightens around the rose’s stem, causing you to prick your thumb on a hidden thorn, drawing blood.

“Ow,” you hiss, lifting your hand to your mouth.

James grabs your wrist, gently, but as he watches the small drop of blood trickle down your finger his grip tightens ever so slightly.

“I’m ok,” you assure him, thinking he’s reacting because you’re in pain.

“Doll,” he murmurs, his eyes locked on yours as he slowly brings your finger to his lips.

You let out a small gasp when his cold lips touch your skin, his tongue tracing the tip of your thumb to lick it clean of blood.

A delicate and tingling warmth radiates through your body from the contact, spreading like an electric current through your brain. As if James senses your response he growls low and deep before releasing your thumb and dragging you into his chest.

His embrace is warm despite the chill left in the air and you melt against him, still pressed along the door, his large body a welcome weight.

“You taste exquisite,” he breathes out as he dips his head.

His lips brush yours, softly at first, like a whisper. You feel yourself falling, consumed by him in a way that leaves you wanting and desperate for more, for anything he will give you.

With every passing second your heart beats faster and the kiss loses its gentleness and becomes more urgent.

“Please James,” you find yourself saying, begging.

His lips trail across your jaw as his hand slides up your body, stopping just at the base of your neck. He pulls away to look you in the eyes, the familiar blue of his own shining brightly against the darkness that surrounds you.

The pad of his thumb grazes along the column of your throat, your pulse beating wildly beneath his touch, until it presses under your chin and he tilts your head back, exposing your neck to him.

In the eerie stillness of the moonlit forest, shadows dance across the splashes of colored foliage and the air is thick with anticipation. You stand out against the dusky backdrop of the cottage, your bright dress barely dimmed by the encroaching dark.

Time slows and even the rustle of leaves fades away as he brings his lips closer, sharp fangs protruding before they delicately scrape over your skin.

You tremble with a whisper of his name and as his fangs pierce your skin the taste of your blood awakens his senses in a way he’s never experienced before. It’s intoxicating, igniting an overwhelming rush of emotions.

Even as your body is drained of life it comes alive with a mix of pleasure and vulnerability and in this fleeting moment you surrender to his embrace.

He savors every drop and with every taste he binds you in an eternal bond.

@randomfandompenguin @flordeamatista @lookiamtrying @sstan-hoe @late-to-the-party-81 @blackwidownat2814 @buckysdollforlife @laineyreads @goldylions @beccablogsthings @justkinsey @book-dragon-13 @hiddles-rose

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x you #vampire!Bucky barnes #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x female reader #vampire!bucky x reader #vampire!bucky #bucky barnes fanfiction #Bucky Barnes Imagines #vampire au #bucky barnes au #sebastian stan #sebastian stan x reader #navy and roo's sleepover

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sushiwriterhere · 1 year

Text

foggy

summary: "Perhaps most tantalizing of all were his glasses–their lenses were lightly fogged, but you could still almost see his wide eyes behind them." rating: explicit (18+ mdni) pairing: bob floyd x f!reader word count: ~2.9k warnings: idiots pining, car sex (lol), hangman being hangman, no use of y/n. notes: Inspired by me thinking about Bob's glasses getting all fogged up. y'all i wish i could apologize for this but all i can think abt is this man and how someone once said they wanna chew on him like a polly pocket.. anyways please let me know what you think ! no beta we die like men tagging: @sebsxphia @theharddeck - tagging ppl either by request or whom i feel like luv bob soooo pls let me know if you'd like to be added/removed

You were usually far more behaved than this, really. You paid attention in your classes, did your work, showed up on time to your job–kept it all together. But there was something about him, about Bob, that just made that tiny part of you want to be reckless. And he had no idea.

There he was, along with the rest of the group like every Friday, sitting and watching them play pool. They’d hoot and holler, order drink after drink, and he’d sit and laugh along with his peanuts and his Shirley Temples or lemonades. And it made you want to jump his bones.

It was a smidge ironic that as a bartender his non-alcoholic drink choices were part of what got you going, but what could you say? A man of multitudes and contradictions was appealing, and Bob was just that. Best weapons system operator around, shy as all hell, and damn smart. He always tipped generously, never put his phone on the bar, and had interrupted more than one creep on a mission to try and ruin your Friday night (flirting is for tips, not for keeps!).

But any time you tried to move it past your brief interactions, he always slipped away. You figured it wasn’t necessarily on purpose— he seemed to be friendly otherwise, just probably not interested. So you resigned yourself to the occasional small chat when making drinks or he came in while the Hard Deck was a bit less noisy—and ever so often, finishing while imagining just what it would feel like to have his body pressed up against yours.

And this Friday began like every other. You came in right as lunch ended, and busied yourself with prepping more limes than you ever wanted to see again in your life. There were glasses to be stacked, napkins and straws to be refilled, and liquors to be restocked. Patrons would start trickling in around 5 or 6, with the majority starting to filter in around 8, clearly coming from dinner or work. By 9, the Hard Deck would be packed to the brim with fighter pilots and other people from the nearby base.

Your favorite fighter pilots would make it in at 8:45 pm every Friday, like clockwork. They’d take over the pool table with a direct eyeline to the bar, and stay till the early hours of the morning, sometimes till closing. Rooster usually bought the first round if the weather was nice, Hangman would when the weather was shit. More than once you’d tried to discern a pattern beyond that, but they seemed to have some sort of system.

Bob would always buy his own drinks.

He’d make his way to the bar, smiling gently at you and waiting patiently while you fielded other customers. Then he’d place his drink order and ask for a refill on his cup of peanuts, and stand there humming something to himself while you poured him a drink. Tips came in cash, straight into your palms and always paired with a soft smile that made your knees weak and your pulse hammer.

Tonight was no different. He ordered his lemonade and handed you cash with a warm smile before returning to what appeared to be an increasingly hostile and heated game of pool. Sitting on the sidelines, he seemed to just be content observing the madness.

When Hangman approached the bar during a momentary lull, you expected it to be for another round. Except he leaned over the counter conspiratorially, and crooked a finger at you to beckon you closer.

“I have a secret to tell you, only it’s not really a secret.” He had a coy smile on his face like he was about to tell you he’d taken a cookie from the cookie jar.

You really wanted to roll your eyes at him, but you had to admit sometimes Hangman was entertaining and you figured your shift would at least be somewhat more lively with his antics. So you just shifted closer to him while maintaining an eye on the bar in case someone needed anything.

“Do tell.”

He pointed a finger back towards the game of pool just as Rooster sunk a shot and Phoenix high-fived him, “You see Bob over there?”

You narrowed your eyes. You definitely didn’t like where this was going. While Hangman was all huge ego on the outside, you knew he wasn’t really like that on the inside, so it made you suspicious that he was deciding to pick on Bob. Usually it was all in good fun, but you had a soft spot for Bob and you really didn’t want to be caught up in any hurtful gossip.

“Play nice in my bar, Bagman.” You said, scrubbing a bit more aggressively at the countertop than you meant to.

“Hey! I’ll have you know I’m playing very nice, I’m being a wingman instead of Hangman tonight.” Wingman? “Bob over there, has a very big and bad crush on a certain someone.”

You hoped this was some sort of prank, because Hangman had one perfectly manicured finger pointing at you. You felt your face go bright red.

“That’s not playing nice.” God, why was this happening?

It was one thing to harbor your little crush on Bob, to let yourself check him out while you were sure he wasn’t looking, it was another to have Hangman mock you by telling you that Bob liked you back.

“He really thinks he’s being subtle,” Hangman continued as if he hadn’t heard you speak, “But he refuses to let us buy his drinks whenever we’re buying a round just so he can talk to you. I swear he spends more time up here or staring at you than he does hanging out with us.”

Saved by a customer, you let your attention drift away from Hangman and what he’d said to you. Even though he lingered, leaning on the bar, you tried not to focus on him.

What did he mean Bob had a crush on you? That couldn’t be possible. A few weeks prior you had almost asked Bob out to dinner after not charging him for his drink, hoping that that would be enough to start a bit of flirting.

Instead the WSO had placed enough cash to cover his drink and a very generous tip on the bar and stammered out something about needing to get back to the game of pool him and Rooster were losing. So you took that as your hint.

Ever a patient asshole, Hangman was still there after you finished making drinks. Clearly being decently drunk wasn’t enough to keep him from being a pain. He just kept looking between you and Bob and not saying anything.

“You’re scaring other customers.” You wanted this to end, the observation, you wanted to get out from under his knowing gaze.

He flicked a cherry stem at you, and without flinching proceeded to make you feel like you were officially the world’s least subtle person, “It’s not hard to see that you and Bob wanna jump each other’s bones, I think once you get it out of your system you’ll be perfect for each other. Just have to get over that first hurdle.”

And with that, Hangman walked himself back over to the rest of the group. You stood there in stunned silence trying to process exactly what just happened.

Like you said before, you were usually far more behaved than this. But nevertheless, you now found yourself pressed up against your car in the corner of the Hard Deck’s parking lot, Bob’s lips on yours and his hands on your waist.

Anyone could see. Hangman or Rooster could step out for a breath of fresh air, maybe even a drunk cigarette (no one was allowed to tell Mav), and see you pulling Bob’s shirt out of his standard-issue khakis and running your hands over his stomach. You had always known he was hiding some serious muscle under his uniform. Someone could see you, weak in the knees for the quiet, but beautiful, Bob.

“Jesus Christ,” he said quietly against your lips as you scratched at his back and trembled in his arms. “We shouldn’t–shouldn’t be doing this out in the open. You deserve better.”

Was it wrong that him being so respectful made you want him to ruin you all that more? What you wouldn’t give to be in your, or his, apartment right now, protected by four walls and free to strip and see all of him. But for now, you’d have to take the cards you were dealt.

Grasping behind yourself, you yanked the back door handle against yourself, feeling the door give against you and open slightly. You pushed Bob off you gently, just enough to pull the door open and grab his collar to pull him into the car with you. He made a choked off sound, and you honestly weren’t sure if it was because of you grabbing his shirt or if he was surprised.

“Wait,” He managed, and you froze, “I... Will you sit in my lap?”

You were going to die, here and now, with him almost hovering over you, his eyes wide and pleading. For a moment, time seemed to turn into something syrupy as he slid fully into the car, shut the door, and pulled you into his lap.

You both sat there for just a moment, panting and staring at each other. Maybe you owed Hangman an apology for doubting his wingman skills, but you weren’t sure you wanted to inflate his ego more than it already was.

However, he did deserve some credit. After he had dropped that bomb on you, Bob had come over and asked if you were alright, claiming he’d give Hangman a talking-to about whatever he said that had clearly upset you. You just stood there staring at him, until he started to squirm slightly under your gaze.

It was in that moment you had blurted out, “I have a crush on you.”

He had stared at you for a split second before he whispered, so quietly you weren’t even sure you were supposed to hear it, “Oh my god, I want to kiss you so badly.”

It had taken everything in you not to drag him across the bar and press your lips into his. Instead, you managed to tell him that you had your thirty minute break in five minutes, and to meet you in the parking lot by your car. It was probably the most reckless thing you had ever done.

So that was how you ended up in the backseat of your car, Bob’s tongue running along the seam of your lips, whining slightly when you opened your mouth to feel his tongue glide over your teeth. You could tell he had his feet firmly planted on the floor by the steady rhythm of his hips against yours. That part of his actions seemed so confident, so assured in comparison to the slight tremor in his hands against your hips, but you wanted him to let loose a little, show you just how much he wanted you.

The car rocked gently with your movements. He was panting as his forehead leaned against yours, and he let out a particularly high pitched whine as you grabbed him by the back of the neck to force your lips together again.

“Been thinking about this, about you,” he ground out as you both pulled away again to catch your breaths, “See you every Friday and Hangman, ah, Hangman makes fun of me.”

You groaned at his confession and twisted your hands into his neatly combed hair. Honestly, you couldn’t judge his hesitancy, for god’s sake you thought he barely liked you as a friend. Plus, you’d firmly asked more than one patron to leave when they tried to be too forward. Bob was never too forward.

“Been, fuck! Been, trying to be a gentleman.”

You didn’t want him to be a gentleman, you wanted him to ruin you. Grabbing his wrists, you shoved them under your shirt and sighed as he got the message, rubbing your nipples over your bra.

“F-Fuck,” you gasped, rolling your hips against his more firmly.

“You’re so beautiful,” He whispered as his lips marked a path down your neck, mouthing at your collarbone as he tugged the collar of your shirt to the side.

“Bob...” You could feel the heat in your stomach building, the familiar tingle in your fingers.

“I know, sweetheart, I know,” With one hand on your stomach rubbing soothing circles, and the other dipping into your bra, the flood of physical sensations was almost too much.

You moaned into his mouth and shuddered against his grip, raking your hands through his hair and feeling just how much he liked the sensation of your nails scraping against his scalp when the rhythm of his hips stuttered.

When you came it felt like a star bursting in your chest, everything went fuzzy around the edges as he rocked you in his lap and you rode out your orgasm. It felt like Christmas morning, your birthday, and every party all rolled into one. You shuddered as he kept your hips moving against his, clearly close.

But you would have none of that.

Still trembling from your own release you unbuttoned his khakis with shaking hands and reached in to grasp him. He stared down at your through lightly fogged up glasses, clearly shocked.

“Fuck, wait, are you sure—!” Was all he managed to get out before you were on your knees, doing your damndest to swallow him down.

He came with a choked shout, one hand on the back of your head and the other clawing at the worn leather of your seats, grasping for something, anything to keep him tethered. For a moment you stayed on your knees, reveling in the feeling of what had just happened.

He was a fucking vision from this angle. His usually perfectly done haired was wild from you running your hands through it, his khakis were haphazardly open and his softening cock was laying against his stomach where you had rucked his shirt up. Breathing wild, his chest rose and fell quickly, and his fingers resting on the seat twitched in a matching rhythm to the ones in your hair.

Perhaps most tantalizing of all were his glasses–their lenses were fogged up, but you could still almost see his wide eyes behind them.

You wished you had a camera to capture the moment.

The moment was broken when Bob reached down to pull you back into his lap and move his lips softly against yours. It took you a moment to register that he was whispering sweet nothings to you–a combination of thank you, and all sorts of compliments that made your chest ache.

A sudden alarm sound made both of you turn in opposite directions at the same time, smacking your foreheads together. Suddenly any sexual tension had completely dissipated, replaced by both of you melting into laughter. Leave it to you and Bob to top off humping in your car like teenagers by giving each other concussions.

“I need to get back to work.” You whispered as he inspected your forehead for any lasting injuries, “That was my alarm.”

He pressed his lips to yours softly, as if he was savoring your final moments together. “Can I take you out to dinner tomorrow? Do this part right?”

“I’d love that.”

You almost made it to closing without anyone noticing that you and Bob had both conveniently been gone for most of your meal break. But the crew crowding the pool table was far too observant for their own good. To his credit, Bob got himself almost fully back to his normal appearance, and you slipped into the bathroom to make sure you were presentable again.

“You should say thank you to people who do nice things for you,” Hangman was back, toothpick hanging loosely from his mouth as he turned a sly grin in your direction, “I’ll take a beer in compensation, though.”

Pretending not to know what he could possibly mean, you continued to clean up. “Making sure all your cups are on the bar by closing is not exactly free beer material.”

He scoffed and stole another garnish, “You might think you’re slick but Bob’s been staring at you uninterrupted since you got back from your little break.”

“According to you he stares at me regardless.” Sorry, Bob.

“Yeah, but now he stares at you all mopey, which means you must’ve gotten the other stuff out of your system–”

You threw a piece of ice, the universe granting you with perfect aim for once, and watched as it hit his collarbone and slid down his shirt. He jerked backwards with a hiss.

“Okay! Just take your beer and shut up.” Why did he have to be like this?

“Why thank you sweetheart, consider your debt settled.” With a wink, he was gone.

If you were honest with yourself, you probably would give Hangman a thousand free beers just to see Bob in the backseat, glasses foggy, and staring at you like you hung the moon. But he didn’t have to know that.

#top gun: maverick #robert 'bob' floyd #bob floyd #bob floyd fic #top gun: maverick fic #bob floyd x reader #bob floyd x you #no use of y/n

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quitealotofsodapop · 1 year

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More details on my "The Monkey King and the Infant" au;

Sun Wukong was given MK's egg by Nezha under the Jade Emperor's command. The Lotus Prince, equally disgusted by Heaven's order, promised to keep quiet on whatever the Monkey King chose to do with the egg.

The Jade Emperor, Lao Tzu, most of the Celestials and Demons that had past beef with Sun Wukong; All want this stone egg scrambled. Save strangely enough for Princess Iron Fan, who's already watching the baby stone monkey's career with great interest.

MK's egg being formed is "somehow" connected to Macaque being resurrected by LBD. Only LBD knows the true reason.

Sun Wukong and Macaque reunited during the process of deciding what to do with the egg. It wasnt pretty, but both agreed that it was an issue far greater than their estrangement.

The two wandered for sometime, just trying to find a way for the unhatched Stone Monkey to live in peace separated from the chaos of Heaven. Until they came across a noodle stand with an unusually familiar face.

Macaque initially protested leaving the egg with Pigsy. However, when the pig demon assumed the pair were down-on-their luck soon-to-be-parents needing a safe space to rear their unborn, he offered the apartment above the shop for free. Macaque was quick to reconsider his first impression.

The Monkeys, Pigsy, and Tang, are all co-parenting the little undercooked Monkey. It can be a little confusing when MK grows up and mentions having four separate parents but people are mostly polite about it. Uncle Sandy has been tagging in for babysitting duty ever since Pigsy caught a horde of Flower Fruit Monkeys filling in for their King on diaper duty.

Nezha pops in after a few months post-hatch, and pretty much cries in relief and shame that he suspected for even a moment that Sun Wukong would harm the little infant. Becomes MK's unofficial Fairy Godfather.

Macaque and the few Celestials who know of MK's existance call him "The Egg" long after he's hatched. It's easier to see him as something that can still be crushed. Macaque's title eventually turns into an adoring nickname. The Celestial's title becomes a threat.

Pigsy and Tang were legit unaware that the two Monkey Demons that showed up are the ones from the stories. After all, there's gotta be a bunch of them hanging around right? Right?

One day Pigsy walks in on MK's egg being warmed in a nest of heated blankets, and quickly puts two and two together. Him and Tang both agree that all these little details stay inside the noodle shop.

MK hatched surrounded by adoring eyes and a warm bowl of noodles. More suspicions are raised when he looks like a odd mix of the two adult stone monkeys. His offical name is "Qi Xiaotang", since he's the little piece of Heaven that the Jade Emperor cannot control.

Sun Wukong: "First one to get called Dad gets naming privileges!"

Baby MK imprinted a lot from Pigsy. Cue piglet squealing and grunts in addition to regular baby monkey noises. The sounds made during bath time got animal control called on the shop more than once.

Tang is still a big Journey to the West nerd. Him and Macaque sometimes grab cocktails and talk about relationship issues.

MK has built-in Gold Vision + Glamour filter. Its a little startling for demons who thought they had perfect glamours. MK himself looks just "human-enough" that he can pass as human easily.

Mei is still MK's bff. Although she's confused why he keeps saying she has scales. Red Son keeps running into them pre-Staff and is very annoyed.

At the time of the show's canon; Sun Wukong's Staff willingly gets removed by MK, tricked by PIF and Red Son. And the Demon Bull King aint happy to see a mini-Wukong when he wakes up.

MK: "My parents are gonna Kill me."

The waking of DBK, and MK inheriting Sun Wukong's powers, things get a little heated at home. Esp since LBD wants to "cash in" her favor to Macaque, old wounds get reopened, and the Jade Emperor is starting to realise that Sun Wukong didnt smash the stone egg and that Nezha has been covering for him.

This au is consuming me.

#lmk #lego monkie kid #the monkey king and the infant #the monkey king and the infant au #lmk s4 spoilers #lmk au #qi xiaotian #sun wukong #six eared macaque #liu er mihou #shadowpeach #lmk pigsy #lmk tang #freenoodleshipping #lmk nezha #the jade emperor #monkey mk

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