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system-of-a-feather · 11 months

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Sorry for all the Tulpa-discourse lately, this is more of a Buddhist ramble / discussion than syscourse but ya know

It's been on my mind a lot between it being in syscourse circles heavily and the fact that I'm actually currently on a system-designated theraputic homework assignment to reconnect with Buddhist concepts and to incorporate it into my self care routine so I can get back to my baseline after doing something of a survival mode to help balance out XIV being in borderline-crisis lately resulting in my burn out

I'm (as Riku as a part) actually usually very hesitant to talk about much of my cultural and personal experiences and AAPI-rooted parts of my life because of old system dynamics, persecution, and a lot of other things that make me very anxious and prone to fawning when me existing in a space I am involved in is at all challenged which is largely why I leave it to XIV to voice it for me since he also is the guy that keeps me from falling into old dynamics. (<- literally is the person who thought I was *checks notes* faking being asian like that is a possible thing let alone something I thought LONGER than me faking DID)

So honestly, its kind of a bit cathartic occasionally to actually have a sense of self and security enough to have the balls to actually defend myself in terms of this sort of crap and assert that I actually, ya know, have an experience in life. So as much as I typically hate the negativity and contention that bringing this stuff up brings, it's honestly theraputic and part of me expressing a valid part of my existence and self - so with XIV's nudging I tend to let myself have that space.

With all that said, I wanted to bring up a discussion point and correction point now that I'm not genuinely and authentically triggered about racism, I think a thing I do want to comment on in regards to the rhetoric on the tulpa topic that anti-tulpa-term people get wrong when talking about Buddhism and """""""tulpamancy""""""" is that Buddhism is not a closed culture or closed practice and stating that does a disservice to the group as well; albeit its the lesser of two wrongs by a LONG shot so I shirk it off as a "to get to later" point

But Buddhism is incredibly open to anyone interested on engaging with it and its part of why - when I specifically talk about the critiques of """"""Western Tulpamancy"""""" in terms of Buddhism I try to remind myself to desalinate between "westerner" and "white". There are many many many white Buddhists - as there are many black, latin, native, Middle eastern, etc Buddhists as well.

In some cases and for some people, Buddhism is a religion and/or spirituality, for others it's more of a way of life / philosophy. Tibetan Buddhism, as I know it as a non-Tibetian Buddhist, is a lot more on the religion side of things which is a different topic I honestly am under knowledgeable to comment on - but overall the thing that ties a lot of Buddhism together is the core and underlying principles of acceptance, letting things go, connecting to the greater world, and just general enlightenment as a means of finding peace.

Myself, and a lot of Buddhists, gladly encourage people to look into Buddhists practices and principles and ideology because its honestly extremely healing and regardless of if you are SUPER into it and go become a monk or what not or if you just dabble in it, so long as you do it respectfully and understand your biases and genuinely have GOOD RESPECTFUL intent and an interest on understanding it more, its an amazing and really welcoming thing to get involved in.

The thing all the 'pro-tulpas' quote on the Dalai Lama is honestly entirely true. Almost everyone could benefit from the practices and principles found within Buddhism.

That is to say however, that there is a large difference between spending a day or two at a monastery and learning more about the culture and the ideas of Buddhism and integrating them into your life and just grabbing this Really Cool and Quirky High Level Principle / Ritual / Practice of a Specific Typically Very Dedicated Version of Buddhism and ignoring EVERYTHING ELSE about Buddhism and saying "this aspect, this aspect I like and I'm going to completely warp it how I like it while calling it and/or referencing it in terms of Buddhism to make it look intellectual and enlightened for me to be involved in it."

I've seen it said in some Buddhist communities and discussions regarding the more ritual and involved aspects of Buddhism - specifically in regards to the Mahayana approaches - that a lot of the practices and rituals when used inappropriately or unguided can be "dangerous" with danger in this sense being a worsening of the individuals conditions resulting in an increase in a lot of the core things almost all versions of Buddhism considers unhealthy and unideal such as increase in conflict, desire, and disconnect from the greater world and thus generally more suffering.

And on that front, while not being of the Mahayana school of thought and as a result not really believing so much in bodhisattvas, I can - from my personal view and perspective - entirely understand how frustrating it is to see a term often sighed with "buddhists roots" be used in a way that - in my opinion - almost exemplifies the exact opposite of what I understand to be the crux of the idea of Buddhist peace.

A large part of me getting more involved into the concepts Buddhism has to offer and honestly a thing that had both helped my healing journey and how I interact with my system is the large realization that the existence of "I" doesn't really have much ground to it in what it is and what it means and what defines "I".

That identity and human nature is largely a mobile and constant changing force part of a larger and grander thing that is just really existence as a whole and there is little that makes me more unique than say the trees or the squirrel looking for nut or a bird singing in the tree other than the fact that I have the "curse" of conscious awareness and 'advanced intellect' that makes it so that I both feel the need to >Be< something and the bother of "the next thing". A large part of practice is letting go of a lot of notions that a lot of society and life reinforce - one of the most in my current stage of learning and practice - is letting go of the concept of "me and I" and just, ya know, being.

And to me, looking at the """""Western Tulpamancy Community""""" you have people who are sectoring off a part of themselves, their experience, their life whatever and not only identifying it as seperate from them (NO!!!! We are all connected >:[ <- light hearted comment) but also giving that part of themselves an entire identity of it's own and a whole second sense of "I" beyond what was already there - combined with the overall themes of 'developing your tulpa' by giving it more traits and details and stuff until it 'becomes independent' is rooted in such American / Western individualism which DO not even get me started on how toxic individualism is and how inherently opposite it is to Buddhism and

//deep breath//

I'm getting ahead of myself, the truth is while the concept of 'creating a headmate' or whatever greatly concerns me as a Buddhist - as a human and as a Buddhist (in a different perspective), seeking out to change people is the last thing I'm interested in and it's honestly not this uber horrible or harmful thing and its really not my business; so as long as it is making someone happy and what not, I really don't care if it doesn't match to my theory cause ya know, theory is that - just theory. Live and let be ya know - yall have your own life to live and yall know how to live your own life better than I could assume to know so I'm not gonna try to tell you how to live it. Philosophical theory comes second to philosophical practice and practice says to live and let be.

But its just really frustrating a lot of the time to see how the topic is handled when its far from really what it is. And in theory, I should let it go because honestly, people using the word "tulpa" to describe experiences that are largely anti-thetical to my understanding of Buddhism - while annoying - is not the end of the world and fostering hate and aggression does nothing but increase the overall suffering (dukkha) in the world. Often, when I think about talking about it or getting mad, I do tend to repeat that mantra back to myself and most of the time I refrain and leave it be.

That being said, XIV runs on the philosophy and critique of the over theroretical approach to Buddhism over the realistic and practical in saying that by "letting go of" certain frustrations and annoyances and grievances - while healthier for the individual person - enables and perpetuates long term suffering for the masses and years to come. So that while it would be best for me / us to let it go and exist in a state closer to Buddhist peace and doing so is an entirely valid decision (thus why I respect Buddhists who say using the tulpa-term is fine), I would also be choosing to maintain my peace over acknowledging and speaking up about the honestly long and ongoing racism and disrespect that plague those that I feel particular kinship with and in XIV's perspective (one that I am starting to take on a bit more lately) - the choice of personal peace is a selfish one that is complicit in increasing the suffering of the world as a whole in favor for the individual "I" that honestly has become a bit distasteful for our system.

But anyways, I digress. Buddhist ramble done.

#alter: riku #syscourse #syscourse tw #<- not meant to be #but for filtering purposes again #buddhism #buddhism posting #riku rambles

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miheartsedthings · 2 months

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I've had this idea running through my head for a long time now. Huge trigger warnings here - explicit and graphic descriptions of psychological/emotional abuse. I would COMPLETELY understand if you don't want to do this. Really. It's really overwhelming and just - just too much. Your well being is what matters the most. Ignore this if this makes you feel uncomfortable.

Billy and Reader are newly best friends, which means they're still shy around each other but are still very close if you know what I mean: shy and hesitant but sincere and strong embraces, kisses on the hand or cheek that make the other person blush like a tomato. To put it simply, their relationship is a slow burn.

So much for the context/background. Now, as for the plot, imagine this: reader has family problems too. Billy knows it because she subtly implied it and perhaps also because he saw the bruises, it's up to you for this part, in my head there isn't necessarily any physical abuse, mainly mental/psychological - like controlling EVERYTHING ("belongings", acquaintances, tone of voice, what emotions are appropriate and what are the ones that aren't, how you should feel, what you see, your reality) manipulating, gaslighting, humiliation, threatening with violence or worse punishment, insulting, name calling, yelling at someone for hours on end while knowing they get sensory overload and cannot process loud noises / overstimulation in general, emotionally abuse enough to trigger panic attacks in front of the parent and obviously they. just. keep. going. and don't stop until their voice is sore and need "to lay down because they got too stressed" because they genuinely (for real) almost got a seizure from all that yelling.

And then the next day them genuinely being the sweetest, nicest, most loving person on the planet. Genuinely worrying about your safety. Almost having a heart attack if you're 7 minutes late. Crying their eyes out if you're away from them for a day. Keeping you locked in at home, not even allowing you to stay on the porch. Not even allowing you to open the window and let air into your room. Controlling everything you do. Saying they want you to be an independent woman who doesn't rely on anyone and is confident in her abilities. Teaching you about the dangers of blindly following authority figures. Degrading, humiliating you in front of everyone for hours on end until you get panic attacks which encourages them further to keep going. if you try to voice your opinion. Used to punish you when you cried as a kid for years. Telling you out of the blue to cry it all out and genuinely offering to hold you. The next day trapping you in a corner and looking at you with absolute and utter disgust, yelling to call you the vilest shit (not gonna repeat what was said here, trust me you don't want that) for shedding a tear after an intense fight. Crying her eyes out if she finds out you feel like a burden. Reassuring you that she loves you and that you're the most adorable, the most amazing person on the planet, that she wishes she had 10 other kids like you. Genuinely forgetting about your siblings because all her eyes are on you. Abusing you and only you because you're the only one that deserves it, as sick as that sounds. Abusing you because you show symptoms of abuse.

You're both their Golden Child and their worst ennemy.

A confusing, highly clinical case of a mentally ill parent.

Even though Billy doesn't see any bruises, he still knows things aren't going well at home. He doesn't know the true extent of the abuse but he sees the self harm scars. The panic attacks. The permanent anxiety. The chronic fatigue. The dissociation. The high identity confusion due to the gaslighting. The crippling fear of feeling certain emotions because "it's forbidden" and the fear and genuine confusion over choosing something for herself - literally the same as El.

And one day it's just all too much. She missed the entirety of the school day. He is looking for her everywhere. But she keeps avoiding him. She's scared of having a relationship like adults do. Scared of having a friend. Scared of talking to someone. Scared of being independent. Remember. It's not allowed.

But Billy doesn't let go. He manages to make her talk. And then he reassures her the best he can and asks her to stay at his place for the night. He doesn't leave her a choice because he knows she wants it but a dissociated part of her screams no. Hell would break loose if anyone finds out about this. So he takes the initiative and takes her home. They spend the night cuddled up and - I don't know about the happy ending. I'll let you choose. 🤍

The abuse descriptions I gave above aren't meant to be written out as scenes. I genuinely don't think I could read that. They're just here so that you know what to make reader say to Billy when he asks her to talk to him about it. ❤️

Hey anon, I'd be happy to explore this topic, it's just gonna take a while. I'm still working through other requests and anytime I start a new piece it takes some time for me to get a sense of how I wanna handle it.

Surprisingly, there's a little bit of this subject matter coming up in my ongoing story.

Anyway, yes, I can honor this request, just please be patient with me. 😊💖

#requests open

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a-driftamongopenstars · 10 months

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words with(out) meaning; astarion x oc

slowly making it through bg3, just had the first night between Astarion and my oc Gleam and i am asdfgh ough. OUGH. this is everything!! also on ao3

The sound of song and lute and dance withers as the night moves on. Conversations soften and disappear, too, and it is then that Gleam finds a quiet way into the nearby grove, knowing Astarion awaits him there.

They did not imagine their night would end this way, and yet they cannot help but savour the success of it, savour Astarion's kisses on their lips, his eyelashes fluttering as Gleam's fingers draw down his chest.

“I am glad you made good on your promise. Trust me, my love, you shall not regret a bit of it.”

Sharp tangy wine courses through their veins, burning the tip of their tongue, coating their vision with a gentle hazy reprieve. Astarion’s words slyly make it into their mind, his flirtations beguile them. Lust is pulling, tugging at them inside, burning up, and they want to be the ashes of the aftermath, but not too soon nor too quickly.

"Pleasure. Our ecstasy."

The words like a catalyst, their bodies together, Gleam’s hands exploring the newly offered confidence of Astarion's body. The lean muscle, the scarred back, the curve of a neck, all that is below, offered willingly.

Even in the haze of a deep night, against the moonlight, Astarion looks celestial, yet no creature could be further from that. His eyes are wanton, his mouth is wanting, his weight atop Gleam is promising, and they move their neck in an offering, waiting impatiently for that familiar break of skin and draw of blood.

Astarion's eyes search their face, and something brings pause to their delight.

"Why do you look at me so, my dear?"

"How so?" they smile, brushing knuckles against Astarion’s face.

"Like you wish to see no one else but me. Which, by the by, is not at all unwelcome, but it is a little surprising."

Gleam laughs, drawing their sharp claws down Astarion's thigh, causing him to rut and shiver for a bare moment.

"Maybe that's exactly it. Don't care to see anyone else right now."

Astarion's eyes flicker, his smile withers but for a second.

"I would certainly hope so, seeing as I have us both in a rather precarious position, quite literally."

Gleam smiles and reaches out to pluck a dry leaf from Astarion's hair, stealing another touch against his cheek.

Why does it feel so much more sacred and vulnerable than having his entire body?

Hesitation, questions fill Astarion's eyes. His brows furrow, yet he does not flinch away. Gleam brings him down on themselves, kissing Astarion, sweet and deep.

And then they are together. Unrestrained, giving and taking. The grove protects the sounds they intend for each other, the rustle of leaves softens them as they move. Gleam’s eyes close when his neck is fed upon, a sensation that always leaves them wanting more, and more they receive.

Astarion, lost in that very ecstasy he has been craving for, his mouth still reddened by sweet blood, moves to find release. He looks feral, but for someone so unrestrained, his eyes are distant and Gleam cannot help but notice that Astarion is very aware in his love making, too.

It makes them wonder how many layers they must peel away before Astarion willingly opens his heart to them, heart and soul. And even now it spills through his movements, the real one, that which craves intimacy and love and all of it without taking something in return.

Gleam draws him closer, both arms locking Astarion in their embrace. Encouraging, soothing, whispering in his ear all the sweet nonsense that they feel in their heart, but are too scared to make it real, lest the creature in their arms runs away.

And ecstasy locks them together entirely, forehead against forehead, Gleam's hand holding Astarion's nape and soothing him. Loving him, as terrified as they might be to admit those words.

"My love…" Astarion moans, fingers curling into their hair.

My love, Gleam thinks back, ready to give these words a meaning beyond pleasure. Astarion needs only take it.

#baldur's gate 3 #astarion x oc #astarion x tav #gleam #fanfiction #driftcreates #r rated #ish!

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belokhvostikova · 10 months

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Ever since i red the first part of the Yearbook Club pictures i knew it was going to be a great story. Well you proved me wrong! It wasn’t a great story….. It was an amazing story! It’s filled with so much emotion i think i even cried in some parts. You’re really a fantastic writer. After i read the first part i turned on your post notifications so i didn’t miss an update. Which was a very nice surprise to see that you added me to the tag list!

I was very much on the edge of my seat every time i got a notification because i had no idea if it was going to break my heart or not. And let’s be honest it did. When Eddie didn’t trust reader when she offered to take the Hellfire Club picture but i also get it. He has a hard time trusting (don’t we all) But i love his development of firstly not wanting anything to do with her but then slowly but surely he realise she isn’t like the rest and he finds himself falling for her

The ending was just beautiful i don’t know what else to say because you’ve rendered me speechless on that last part. But i hope you keep writing because this story was just beautiful I loved every part. Take your time because we’ll be here when you decide to write up either a new story or even a short blurb. This story was just beautiful and amazing and you should be proud of what you’ve created

Thank you for sharing it with us❤️ And i can’t wait to see what else you come up with

You are being unfathomably nice, it’s making my heart hurt! Truthfully, when I posted the first chapter I was so hesitant in doing so, because as a new writer I didn’t know how to approach my story, nor how I felt comfortable writing, and it was such a constant battle of whether or not it would be good. But you and everyone else have been so incredibly kind, no words hold the substance to express my gratitude!

And you, specifically, I noticed you from the beginning, you were one of the first people to comment on my work, and you’ve been following the story ever since. There are a handful of people who comment on my work, and you were always one of them, I loved it so much! Your support truly means everything to me, and it’s so heartwarming seeing the same couple of people take a genuine interest in my writing! You all are so lovely!

Eddie Munson as a character is truly one of the greatest people to write about. It absolutely blows my mind how little we know of him, yet this fandom has created such incredible headcanons that are so fitting to him. I love seeing the many ways people interpret him! And specifically, diving into the actions of Mean!Eddie, and exploring why he is that way has been such a journey. I just love how complex he is. It’s such an expected thing to see him be so reserved and standoffish when an opportunity for acceptance comes about, and writing out his path to healing was so great and eye opening to myself.

And the ending! I’m going to be completely transparent, chapter six was definitely the most grueling chapter to write, because of how heavy it was, but I’m so proud of it. I’m happy I was able to have a proper ending that all of you loved, because with the amount of support you and everyone showed me, you all deserved an incredible ending! Yes, I definitely will keep writing, maybe something lighter or smutty, lol, to recover from the heftiness of “The Yearbook.”

But again, just thank you so so much for all your support. I’ve literally burned your username into my brain since the first chapter, because of how utterly nice you have been. Your kind feedback and encouragement is the reason why me and other writers in this fandom feel motivated to keep going. Thank you so much! I mean it when I say I love you all!

#stranger things #eddie munson #the yearbook: club pictures

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pyreshe · 1 year

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quick things abt livvys narnia verse;

she's descended from a royal, magic using bloodline, originating from the same world as the witch, charn

because time moves differently, jadis, the witch, knows of livvys ancestors as an ancient member of the royal family who mysteriously vanished with her lover in the night and was never seen or heard from again, centuries before she was even born.

the truth is, livvys ancestors somehow made it to the wood between the world's and ended up somewhere in iran, then known as persia. they assimilated to the culture of both persia and this world at large, and lived a long and happy life.

unfortunately, this means she is very distantly related to the witch 😔

(it's a minor plot point in the books that magic doesn't work the same in this realm as it does others, such as narnia and charn. the implication is that it doesn't work here at all, but I reject that bc the example used was a literal world ending spell that didn't work. other smaller magic WILL show up/work.)

due to their origins, magic was always in the bloodline. a cousin here who never once stepped on a ladybug, a great aunt there who somehow always knew in advance when the weather was going to get bad, etc.

livvy is, so far, the only one who's magic manifested strongly and as intensely as pyrokinesis.

some point part of the family settles in the uk, wales specifically, and eventually livvys mom and dad meet and fall in love and she's born.

it's largely similar to default verses in the sense that she's raised by her single father who works hard to support her, who recognizes the burning and encourages her to hide it, but he dies and leaves her alone.

the next couple of years see her in various orphanages from place to place, eventually london.

the bombs fall and she ends up on a train to the countryside with many other children and being housed in an aging professor's home with four other kids for the foreseeable future.

she's very hesitant around the pevensies at first. she's the odd one out in several ways and doesn't expect much from them.

but lucy, bright bubbly lovely lucy, is THRILLED at the prospect of there being another girl her age in the house that she assigns herself as livvy’s defacto bff and ends up endearing herself to livvy

livvy comes to the country house selectively mute and relatively silent but slowly and surely, lucy gets her to open up.

livvy is drawn to the wardrobe by an impossible magnetic force, but never touches it or allows herself to spend more than a handful of moments staring at it at a time. she is also the first person to believe lucy when she talks of narnia bc she Knew there was Something about the wardrobe, she just knew it.

and also by this point she and lucy are ride or die, but I digress.

livvy doesn't tell the pevensies about her powers, except maybe lucy. maybe. they find out in narnia where her powers are SO MUCH STRONGER than they are in the normal world.

there is more tbh but I feel this post is already a fuckin novel so

#mayhaps a pt2 at some point #✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ: ooc / [mothman vc] take me home country roads

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needleandhammer · 3 years

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From Simmer to Score

Pairing: Soft!Curtis Everett x Reader

Summary: Curtis is good with his hands. And other stuff.

Warnings: 18+ only, explicit, smut, oral sex, penetration, fingering, dub con breeding, unprotected sex, breeding kink sort of, size kink, petite!reader, Curtis' fingers

Word count: 4k

A/N: This doesn't really fit the prompt i chose from @stargazingfangirl18 's 5k Soft Dark Challenge: "You hire a local handyman to help you with a few home projects." But the prompt still inspired this. I wanted to take the prompt somewhere more explicitly dark but once again my contribution to this challenge turned marshmallow soft. This is an au, non-apocalypse au, normal life au, idk. Just self-indulgent. Also, it was a struggle finding a gif of clean Curtis. Because he's clean in this and not living on a train, i swear.

“Try again. Very good. Let’s have you run through the exercises and then we’ll take a look at the new homework."

At your smile, the little girl nods and quickly turns to concentrate on coordinating her footwork on the pedals of your old Altenberg while reading the notes in front of her.

You back away, heading to the kitchen for some iced tea. You nearly forget your other guest who sits at the table.

This is the third time he’s accompanied Wendy for her lessons. For a man of his size, Curtis makes no sound except the faint swish of pages turning in his book. Like before, he arrived with Wendy, nodded a greeting at you, waited for your invitation to the kitchen, and then spent the entire hour silently reading.

You pull the fridge door open and pour tea into three glasses. You quietly slide one towards him. Curtis’ eyes flicker up to you, brilliantly blue, and he gives you a low murmur.

“Thanks.”

You’re about to return to Wendy when you hear your name in Curtis’ smooth baritone.

He nods to the notepad left on the table. “I, uh, noticed your reminder to call for maintenance. Something wrong?”

“Oh.” You tidy up the table, sheepish at being caught procrastinating house chores. “Just needed a second look at the water heater. The repair company came by and we tested things out when they were done, but the next day I had no hot water.”

You grimace, thinking of taking another cold shower.

“If you’re okay with it, I can grab my tool bag from my car and take a look,” he says.

You’re not prepared for the offer. “I wouldn’t want to impose.”

He shakes his head, no hesitance. “I don’t mind at all. As long as you don’t.”

“I mean. I-I would really appreciate the help.”

Your time with Wendy ends after you review practice goals with her until her next lesson.

Curtis joins you two. “Hot water is running again.”

Your jaw drops and you skip to the kitchen. Hot water pours out of your faucet. You return, unable to resist grinning widely at him.

“Thank you, Curtis. You’re a lifesaver.”

“Curtis taught my dad everything about fixing houses!” Wendy chirped. He offers her a crooked smile.

“Do you have everything?” you ask your young pupil.

While Wendy thanks you and you help her pack, Curtis watches on with a faint curve to his lips.

“Edgar’s changing over to late shifts for the next couple of months. I’ll probably be driving Wendy to lessons again.”

You nod. “Sounds good. See you both then.”

After they leave, you enjoy a glorious steamy shower and then you settle onto your couch with a plate of leftover grilled veggies and fish.

Reviewing your schedule, you consider taking on one or two more students. It was years ago that you gave private lessons to help pay for college. Nearly a decade of moving between a few jobs, you are now in a quiet suburb working with a team of digital designers. The job allows you to work from home half the week, a flexibility you take great appreciation in. The professional stability encouraged you to return to music and to helping others develop their musical interests.

Wendy is your only student at the moment as you want to ease into taking on this additional responsibility. You smile, recalling your initial meeting with Wendy and her father, Edgar. Her father’s bubbly energy is such a stark contrast to Curtis. Edgar opened up quickly, sharing that he and Wendy’s mother were no longer together, that he would support whatever Wendy wanted to do. There was a perpetually youthful vigor to the room when Edgar was present.

Wendy calls Curtis, Uncle, and his adoration for her is clear. He barely said two words when he was here the first time. It doesn’t bother you. You get the impression Curtis purposely tries to not draw attention to himself, and you can empathize with that preference for tranquility.

_ _ _ _

It’s a windy day, heavy with rain clouds, the next time Wendy and Curtis are over.

“I saw your screen door was down. Planning on replacing it?” Curtis asks when you wrap up with Wendy.

“Nah. I was just going to look up what I would need and try fixing it myself.”

“It’s kind of heavy.”

His tone doesn’t imply any skepticism aimed at you and you’re not offended. You’re used to people calling you ‘small,’ though you’re not small so much as you’re short. You like to think you take up ample space. You also admit strength is not something you have in abundance. Your whole life you relied on family and friends for a lot of literal heavy lifting. But Curtis already helped you out once.

“I could fix it up.”

“I won’t ask you to do that.”

“It’s no bother, really. I’m happy to help out.”

He promises to be quick about it. While he works, Wendy happily practices on your piano.

“I have Oreos,” you announce.

She pauses to grab a cookie. “Thank you so much for letting me practice longer.”

“Of course, dear.”

She chats a bit about her upcoming birthday plans, as children are wont to do.

Curtis pops his head in. “All set. Do you want to take a look?”

You follow him out back. Swinging the screen door on its hinges, you nodded appraisingly.

“I suppose it passes inspection.” You look up with a cheeky smile, pleased to see Curtis’ lips twitching. “Thank you. Really, Curtis. I do wish you’d let me pay you.”

He shakes his head. “It’s nothing. Besides, you’re great with Wendy. I’m grateful for that.”

You can tell he loves Wendy just as much as if he was her father. “In that case, I shall give Wendy her next lesson for free.”

He blinks at you, trailing behind as you make your way inside and calling out to Wendy.

Curtis has resigned himself to a quiet, bare life. He doesn't think he wants anything much. He has Edgar’s loyalty, a result of the brotherhood he formed in his impoverished teen years. They survived together, looked out for each other. Once Wendy came along like a little star burning in a smoggy midnight, Curtis counted himself lucky to witness the little girl growing up. A chance to help nourish one seed.

The first time he arrived with Wendy at your home, Curtis couldn’t help listening in on the entire lesson, making no progress in his book. Your clear voice, your generous encouragement. You, light on your feet moving so swiftly. You, barely reaching his shoulders yet mighty in spirit, curvy and sensuous. Curtis had an urge to lift you in his palms to be stored safely in his pocket.

_ _ _ _

And so things follow. Wendy diligently learning and Curtis primarily accompanying her, taking his place at your kitchen table. You come to enjoy his steady, grounding presence just a couple steps away from you and Wendy.

Now and then, he’ll notice some upkeep you’re doing – a leaky faucet, a box of new light bulbs on your counter – and volunteer his assistance. You are reluctant to put him to work, sure that he spends enough of his days working and doing chores in his own home and besides these are tasks you can handle even if you find them tedious. Curtis is always gentle in his offers, always obtains your permission first. As time goes by and you grow less shy about accepting his help and he grows more comfortable in your space, you realize working with his hands is second nature to Curtis.

It doesn't take long for Curtis to admit to himself he wants to be near you.

Curtis doesn’t meddle. He doesn’t mingle. He doesn’t have any interest in widening his social circle. He is aware you thrived on your own for a long time, just like him; and like he has Edgar and Wendy, you have a small close-knit group of friends. Lending a hand to you doesn’t count because you are like him.

Maybe this is why he lets his guard down under your roof. There is something kindred in your calm nature that his soul responds to. Under your roof, no silences need to be filled; no pretenses forced upon him. Your invitation to rest is unspoken – he hears it and almost weeps. The more time he spends with you, like two wavelengths in tune, the stronger his urge to insert himself. To fix, or in some way leave his mark on your home. Curtis doesn’t have any interest in widening his social circle. Lending a hand to you didn't count. Until he cannot help it. He doesn’t reach out for you, doesn’t try to prove you’ll curve perfectly within his arms; but he’ll ensure your softness can curl up in a sturdy home and delight in simple pleasures.

One evening, when Edgar works later than usual, you ask if Wendy and Curtis would join you for dinner.

“Nothing fancy. I have some noodle soup and salad. Curtis, can you call Edgar to meet us here?”

Wendy sets the table. Curtis assists with the food.

He’s quick to cup your hand in his when it's nicked with a knife. You can’t help leaning into him as he runs your finger under water, wraps it in clean paper towel. He finishes with the salad, making you sit at the table.

Edgar joins you all, tired but quickly gaining energy with food and a few sips of wine. You are full and warmed by their company. While Edgar cheers on Wendy while she practices from her book, you feel Curtis’ fingers curl over your hand. His thumb brushes over your cut. You share a smile with him.

_ _ _ _

You settle into your little Toyota only to find it won’t start. It stumps you because you never had issues with this car before. You have no experience with car maintenance and don’t know the first thing to check for an engine that won’t wake.

Calling Curtis to see if you can reschedule, he insists that he can swing by to pick you up.

He had called you, his voice almost shy. He wanted to surprise Wendy for her birthday with a piano and asked for your help.

You direct Curtis to the string instruments shop in the city’s downtown area. The two of you are greeted by a sales staff upon entry. When asked, Curtis looks to you, wordless, so you do your best to describe to the salesperson what you're looking for.

There are several options of acoustic and digital instruments. You give little demonstrations on a few pianos that you consider reasonably priced.

“Curtis, check this one out.” Your hold on his sleeve is loose and propels him towards one of the upright Baldwin pianos.

“I think any of these would suit Wendy. The sounds are clear, and they don’t take up too much space. The salesperson said this one is second-hand and it’s in really good shape.” You press a few chords, then look up at Curtis with a smile.

He looks at you, gaze gentle. “I’m not worried about price. I’ll take whatever you recommend.”

That was his general response when you asked his opinion during your time in the shop: he was up for anything you recommended. Other than that, he trailed behind you so that the salesperson assumed you were the primary purchaser. Much like in your house, Curtis seemed to try hard to not draw attention. Oddly, you didn’t think anyone in the same room with him could help noticing him. Even with the dark apparel he favored, Curtis’ reserved nature can't hide all the intensity and strength just thrumming beneath the surface of his tall imposing build.

You convince him to sit beside you on the bench. He’s never played before, but humors you and tries random combinations of thirds with you. You watch his hands – clean, wide, with thick fingers – hover and slide along the keys.

He nudges you.

“Sorry. I was just impressed your sausage fingers are quite nimble.”

A half-hearted glare. “Thank you. For coming with me.”

“If I say you’re welcome, will you take a look at my car when we get back?”

He stays for dinner.

It starts raining and you have to rush out to gather hanging linens. He helps and you both run back inside. You're giddy at his eagerness to assist, resulting in damp clothing on you both.

“Oh, let’s dump it here. I’ll fold it tomorrow.” You are happy to leave the laundry in a pile on an armchair, in too good of a mood to care.

You catch him with his attention on you, a look so soft you have to look away, walk blindly a few steps. His touch is on your arm, turning you around just as you reach the piano.

He dips his head low to press chapped lips to yours, capturing your lips more, closing in to envelope you in his heat.

Curtis’ hands grip your hips with a quick jostle against the piano, prompting a slur of bright notes ringing from the keyboard that you are pressed against. And then he’s hitching you further up and firmly in his arms. His tongue licks against yours. You slant your open mouth, inviting him to taste, to devour you from the inside out. Your legs wrap around his waist like you belong there, tethered to this point in time. There’s no past or future, only Curtis, only feeling safe and real in his arms now now now.

You barely register Curtis moving, tipping you onto the couch cushions to hover over you so close. You can’t remember burning for someone like this. You can’t remember much of anything, focused on Curtis, solid and unyielding between your thighs, muscles buzzing with raw strength.

You want so badly to know more of him. Your hands wander shamelessly under his shirt, sliding up his wide back, grazing under to squeeze appreciatively at his pecs only to be called south by a narrowing of hair that leads you on until you bump his belt buckle.

You’re distracted by the tease of hot kisses he drops along your neck. There’s something sweet, vulnerable in how you allow him access to the delicate skin there. It makes Curtis bury his nose against the crook of your jaw, a long moment for him to whisper something like a prayer, before his tongue swirls and he nibbles your ear lobe. Your high pitched gasp hastens his desire. Your shirt is gone. Your bra untangled from your arms. Your breasts, oh, Curtis takes a mouthful of one fleshy breast, sucking greedily when you moan, breathless and aching now.

You claw at his shirt until it too disappears. You wriggle to help Curtis pull your pants and underwear off. Your legs want to yank him back to you, but he braces himself to allow just a bit more space between you both than before.

“Let me.” It’s almost a growl, and you want to say yes, but you want to kiss him more. You’re clinging by his neck, drinking from his soft lips, until you both part to draw breath.

His hand caresses your cheek, sliding over to slip two fingers into your slack mouth. Your tongue swipes at them, lips close to suck them in, eager to touch and taste any part of him. Jaw tight, Curtis pulls his fingers away and down. Down. His hand spans large over your curves and you hold your breath, grit your teeth. One finger saturated with saliva, sinks into your cunt. You swear you can feel more arousal dripping from you to soak his hand and he adds another finger, drawing short whimpers from you as his fingers withdraw and plunge in. God, you won’t ever tease him about his fingers again because they’re perfect. Agonizing in their quest to undo you.

His voice is husky groans, wanting so bad to feel your oh so tight cunt around his cock. Soon.

He tortures you, adds a third finger. You’re riding them, whimpering as he pumps them in you and parts the digits to stretch you. His weight slides away and you can only grasp at his hair, you’re barely glimpsing his head between your legs before you arch high when his thick wet tongue swirls and licks your folds, dialing up the white hot blooming inside you. His fingers curl just enough inside to press that patch against your pelvis that strings you tight as a bow. Pressing insistently, scratching with finger pads, until you burst and all you can do is chase more of that pulsing pleasure, humping against his face. Your hips quiver while Curtis laps at your slit.

His sucks grow gentle, thumb teasing your bud, helping you come down from the intense high.

You sigh his name.

“I’m here.”

“I want you.”

His arms wind around you, holding you tight while he kisses you. You can’t remember feeling anything better than being cradled like this as Curtis languidly kisses you.

He’s not rushed to move from you, so you cling to him and he loves you for it. Yes, he’s hard, but he wants to savor this. Already high on the sensation of your soft flesh underneath him, your thick thighs tight at his waist, your quiet hums of pleasure the evidence of his thorough work.

He ran from his past, from early years strife with despair, washing away those memories like dust and grime. He thought his life of isolation was one that moved him forward; but he has been stuck all this time.

Seeing you care for Wendy, Curtis realized he wanted that. He wanted what his friend had. He wanted you, and the precious something conceived between two souls that sing for one another. Soon. He’ll make your sweet little body his to protect, to warm through the nights.

_ _ _ _

“Thanks so much for having us for dinner,” Edgar says. He was been watching Wendy run around your humble backyard, chasing butterflies and searching for little frogs. He turns to you with a toothy grin. “And for your help with the gift. Wendy’s going to flip. I’m lucky to have you and Curtis both around.”

Your smile is just as affectionate. “Happy to have you here. Although,” your smile turns sly, “I’m a little disappointed that your special lady friend didn’t join us.”

“Curtis,” Edgar mutters under his breath. Curtis is washing dishes at the sink and pays no mind to any half-hearted curses directed at him.

Your brow arches, urging Edgar to talk as he can't help an embarassed grin.

“Well, she was traveling for work, unfortunately. But I know Wendy doesn’t mind her.”

The girl has whispered to you that Edgar’s girlfriend is beautiful and she wished she would become her new mom; this you keep to yourself, not wishing to embarrass or pressure your friend further.

“I’m happy to hear that.”

Edgar’s eyes slide sideways, quiet for a moment before he jumps out of his seat and heads to the door leading to the backyard. “I’ll just…uh…” He exits, trailing off without finishing his sentence.

You sigh and take another bite of your cake, indulging in the moist chocolate flavor. Glancing up, you find Curtis watching you. His attention is singular, a warm simmer in those bright blue eyes, causing you to freeze except for your tongue that finishes sweeping over your upper lip. His gaze narrows, grew weighty, tracking your tongue as it retreats into your mouth. He pushes away from the counter, steps close until he is able to drop to his knee beside your chair. One strong yank has your seat turning so you face him.

The door creaks open again.

“Well, the sun’s getting low so I think we’ll head home and wind down.” Edgar announces with his daughter close at his side. He has a boyish grin on his face, pulling Wendy towards the front of your house. "Wendy, say good bye.”

“Isn’t Curtis leaving too?”

“Oh, I’m sure he’ll leave when he’s ready.”

“Have a good night, you two,” you say, walking with them to the front. Though Edgar is still cheerfully thanking you for the meal and insisting you stay inside and not see them off.

“You go on and just have a good time, both of you.” He sends a wink your way. You shake your head at him. “Curtis! You be a gentleman now.”

Quick as he can, he has Wendy secured in the car and they are on their way.

“Huh.” You lock the front door before turning to find Curtis. You can tell he wants to roll his eyes at Edgar’s antics. Instead, he closes in on you.

“Are you worried about me not being a gentleman?” he murmurs. His fingers hook under yours loosely.

You smirk. “I’m worried about you being too much of a gentleman.”

That smolder returns to his gaze. For a second, your body shivers, overwhelmed and you side step him, if only for a moment’s relief from the heat of his eyes.

You reach out. He takes your hand.

Once you’re down a layer, he grows even hotter seeing the mesh and lace number you have on. A tantalizing tease with the hard peaks of your nipples veiled in barely-there maroon. Just daring him to unwrap you. So he does.

His mouth leaves a wet trail seeking sensitive spots on your neck, you breasts, your thighs. Even as he moves, he still covers nearly all of your body, his heat and weight drowning you in want.

Your shudder has him grazing his beard up the inside of your thigh so that you arch and plea for his touch. God, all your uninhibited responses spur the blazing hunger in him. Curtis peels the mesh underwear down, impatient for a taste of you. His mouth waters, catching wafts of arousal and then he’s sucking and lapping your wet pussy. His rumbling groan is like a physical nudge that bows your back, and you remain rigid in the air at the sensation of his thick tongue pushing into you. Wide shoulders part your legs, shifting until your thighs rest on vast muscles.

You rock against him, keen at the hard sucks. Two fingers dip into, fucking you and rubbing with a dizzying rhythm that brings you over the edge.

With little effort, he holds up your hips and you feel a pillow slide under you to angle you higher. Then his muscled arms hook under your knees and he finally lines up and rocks forward. The tip of his cock parts your folds. Your breath hitches. His cock slides in, forcing your walls to stretch, to mold tightly to his girth.

“Curtis” – your hand was going point to the little bedside table with condoms.

Instead, you’re gripping a blanket. Gasping as he withdraws and your pussy tries to hold him in.

You mumble against his lips, incoherent. “The…inside..”

And then he feeds you his length again. And again, that delicious, addicting friction.

"Yes, inside," he agrees softly. "Like this."

With every pump, the spark catches and blazes higher. Curtis rises onto his knees, thrusts harder, watching your eyes flutter open and shut. He’s panting with the pretty picture of a needy you. He grips your thighs. As if his life depends on how tight he clutches you. Concentrating hard, his eyes drop low. Fuck. He can see your pussy clench, your puffy outer lips suckling his cock. Curtis swears your little body is refusing to give him up, and you’re wet but your cunt squeezes him so tight he has to drive harder into you to avoid slipping out.

You’re not even aware of your breathy moans, so turned on by his groans, the rough thrusts he gives you. There’s no grinding. Curtis can tell he’s rubbed against your g-spot and he keeps his snapping hips angled just right, one callused thumb circling your clit too lightly. And then your breaths stutter, your legs seize, your back arches. Curtis grits his teeth, keeping the exact same pace, draws out the storm of your pleasure. It’s so consuming, you lose your voice.

Just as you are able to breathe again, able to sense the physical realm around you, Curtis speeds up, bucking hard with low grunts, powering into you.

A high gasp – you feel him flood you. He drops to press his chest to you, still pumping his release into your clenching walls; and it’s too much, his cock merciless within your sensitive channel. He can’t help it, even as your legs start writhing with his unrelenting stimulation, even as he hears your hitched whimpers.

He finally stills. His lips find yours, tongue stroking deep.

Long moments later, his name is gentle, falling from your lips. “We didn’t use protection.”

Curtis nuzzles you, rubs his nose along the planes of your cheeks. Returns to suck your bottom lip. “It’s okay,” he whispers.

There’s a soft frown upon your brow that he kisses, and then scatters more kisses on your face.

“But, what if?”

“I want you. I want everything with you.”

You’re barely able to react as he nips hard at your collarbone and then rolls his hips. He’s half-hard inside you. You’re quickly losing yourself in Curtis, overwhelmed by the combination of his hungry mouth on your skin, unyielding clasp on your thigh. His thrusts persist, pins you in place, lights you up and scorches you. You’re right where he wants you, whining for more more more.

Now with each beat of his heart, Curtis has his mind’s eye on the prize. He’ll have you over and over. And you’ll grow a piece of him inside you. You are the way forward. You are his.

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

A/N: Hurrah, this one felt like it took forever. I blame Curtis. He didn't give himself up to me easily. Let me love you, ya broody boi! Thank you for reading!

#curtis everett #curtis everett x reader #smut #fanfic #siris5ksoftdarkchallenge

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unfoundhoney · 3 years

Text

toe the line ; part one ↠

↠ slimecicle x fem!reader ; angst , fluff in future chapters

↠ masterlist

↠ part one ; part two ; part three ; part four

↠ inspired by this tiktok/scene

“And now,” Charlie announces, “An excerpt from our dear Y/N’s precious diary.”

Your heart stops in your chest.

Charlie is your best friend; he has been for years. You first met online and later moved into an apartment together, which is currently where all your friends are gathered for a small get together.

So, here’s the thing about your journal: it is where you write down the darkest secrets from the depths of your soul. Not to be overdramatic or anything, but you would rather die than have someone read your journal. And if there is one person above all else who should not read any entry in it, it’s Charlie.

You know- you know he’s only teasing. You’re all friends here and you know this isn’t meant to be harmful. As far as Charlie knows, you tell him everything actually important. And you do. He’ll know most of everything that you’ve written in your journal. Except for one thing.

You stand quickly, “Charlie-“

Ted pulls you back onto the couch with a laugh.

“Yes! Let’s learn all of Y/N’s deepest, darkest secrets,” Cooper encourages.

“Guys, seriously,” you protest. “Charlie, give me my journal. Do not-“

They probably think you’re messing around with how serious you’ve gotten all of a sudden. That’s why Ted continues to hold you back and playfully puts a hand over your mouth.

You try to squirm your way out of his hold but it doesn’t work. You can literally feel your heart beating out of your chest as fear seizes at every corner of your mind. You promised yourself that Charlie would never find out about this. He can’t. It’ll ruin everything.

“Ahem. From... ooh, just a few days ago, Y/N wrote: ‘It’s truly tragic, the helplessness of falling in love with a friend. I can’t help it. If I could I would because I’m perfectly okay with how things are. I don’t want things to change.’

“‘And yet it’s like I long for him with every fiber of my being. It’s somehow worse that we’re so close, like I’m constantly lying to myself. It hurts, in a way, to be this close and still unable to be with him how I want. But he means too much to me. I’d rather have him as I do now than lose him entirely.’”

It was probably about halfway through Charlie’s dramatic reading of your journal entry that Ted had mercy on you. You can deal with the humiliation and inevitability that every person in this room knows exactly who you’d written about later, for now you push yourself off the couch and storm over to Charlie, yanking your little black journal from his hands and snapping it shut. Your roommate still has humor in his expression; is he really unaware of anything he’d just read?

“You, my dear sweet Y/N, have a crush,” he says.

Obviously, he is not.

“Yeah, great job, Sherlock,” you bite out.

The embarrassment of feeling everyone’s eyes on you only adds fuel to the fire burning angrily in your chest, squeezing tighter and tighter together as the backs of your eyes sting.

“Who’s the lucky guy to have finally captured your heart?” Charlie asks with a teasing smile.

“It’s no one.”

“Oh, come on-“

“It’s nothing.”

“Y/N, come on.”

“No.”

“Who is it?”

“Stop.”

Charlie playfully punches your arm, “Who is it? You can tell me.”

You fall silent. Any anger you had has fizzled out extraordinarily fast, leaving you with an empty, throbbing ache in your chest. You stare at Charlie as tears creep along your waterline, daring to fall as the sinking realization hits you: there’s no way out of this.

There is no clever bit or joke to save you from your guts being spilled on the floor in front of Charlie, who had just unknowingly dragged a knife across your abdomen. Your hands cover the wound but blood seeps between your fingers. There’s no stopping it.

You stare at Charlie, silently begging him to at least stop talking. Your face is hot with embarrassment; Charlie has made it perfectly clear how there is absolutely no chance of him ever seeing you as you see him. Even after reading your innermost thoughts aloud, it’s still so far off the table for him to be interested in you that he can’t even put it together for several long moments.

When he finally gets it, Charlie’s expression changes. His teasing and his humor is gone, replaced with surprise and regret. You can tell just how hard it hits him: he should not have read that.

“Oh,” he says softly.

You look away.

It’s silent for way too long to be comfortable. Awkwardness permeates the air. You feel like crying. Not only did you just unwillingly confess to your best friend, but all of your friends were there to watch.

It’s Ted who speaks up first, “Alright, well, we should all leave immediately. Thanks for having us, you two.”

As quickly as possible, your friends flee your apartment, shoving feet into shoes, grabbing jackets, and leaving with hurried goodbyes. Soon the door has shut resolutely behind them and the apartment falls quiet. You and Charlie have yet to move.

Charlie takes a breath, preparing to speak but faltering before he makes a sound. He flounders with his mouth open for a moment then utters, “W-Why- why did you-...?”

“I can’t talk to anyone about it, so I write about it instead,” you say. “You weren’t supposed to read it.”

This was a secret you were supposed to take to the grave. Charlie was never supposed to know you’ve been in love with him since before you even met in person. He wasn’t supposed to know how not only have your feelings remained after all this time, but they’ve grown stronger. You don’t want him to know.

“I’m sorry,” is all Charlie can think to say.

“Little late for that, isn’t it?”

Maybe that was a little petty, but you think it’s deserving seeing as it is entirely his fault that any of this has happened.

When you finally look back at Charlie, the surprise and the regret is clear but there’s also an unsure awkwardness. You hate that the most. You two are comfortable with each other. You never feel awkward; you get along so well it’s weird and now he’s looking at you like he doesn’t even know you. You can’t stay here any longer.

“I’m making burritos later, if you want any,” you say, beginning your retreat into your bedroom.

“Y/N, wait,” Charlie says, “You can’t just drop a bomb like that and pretend nothing happened.”

“I didn’t!” you exclaim. “You dropped the bomb, Charlie! Not me. If it were up to me, you never would have found out.”

“So... what? You were just going to never tell me?”

“Yes!”

“How would that have worked out?”

“Judging on the last three years, pretty fine.”

“The last three...”

Charlie’s voice fails him, too shocked at the realization of how long you’ve kept this from him, of how well you’ve hidden it. As much as Charlie would love to let you hide in your room then pretend like none of this ever happened, he knows that’s not what needs to happen.

“Y/N, I don’t- I don’t see you like... that,” he says.

“I don’t need a rejection, Charlie,” you say. “There’s a reason I’ve never told you.”

Charlie again has no words. His feelings for you are clear: you have never been anything more than a great friend to him; you will never be more than a great friend to him. You know and have come to terms with that.

You start towards your bedroom again. This time, Charlie doesn’t try to stop you. He does call out to you one last time before you shut the door behind you.

“I am sorry.”

You’re stood over the threshold of your bedroom, looking back at your best friend. You hesitate in responding. Charlie expects a “me, too” or “I’m sorry, too” or something. Instead, you say,

“I know. And I wish I could be.”

You close your bedroom door, leaving Charlie still standing in the living room where he had been when he read your journal. Now, the room is vacated save for himself, hands empty and a feeling in his chest to match, wondering what your response could mean.

#not me starting ANOTHER series #dw tho this one actually has a planned ending ahaha #mcyt #mcyt x reader #dream smp #dsmp #minecraft youtubers #dream smp x reader #mcyt fanfic #mcyt fanfiction #mcyt imagine #slimecicle #charlie slimecicle #slimecicle x reader #slimecicle fanfic #slimecicle fanfiction #slimecicle imagine #charlie dalgleish #charlie slimecicle x reader

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linkspooky · 3 years

Photo

Who is it who really needs saving?

is the question Dabi asked when Tokoyami came to rescue Hawks in the middle of the raid war arc. Dabi asks this question just after Hawks stabbed twice in the back with the justification that it would save people, despite the fact that Twice was also a victim too, and also someone in need of saving. Dabi’s question is especially poignant because it asks who is hero society invested in saving, a question that is repeated by Twice who believes Hero Society only saves the good victims, and Himiko as well who asks if Heroes save people, then was Twice not a person.

I bring this up because chapter 299/300 end on another parallel between Dabi and Hawks. Both of them have their backs being shown, however, Hawks is already healing due to the nature of his quirk, whereas the permanent burns on Dabi’s skin has already gotten worse. Hawks and Dabi also have opposite goals at this point, Hawks to support Endeavor, and Dabi’s ultimate goal is to bring him down. However, Rei’s words over Endeavor’s panel add another layer of complication to this. “Those regrets and guilt, the rest of those have borne that burden much more than you have.” Endeavor is suffering, but he’s not the one most in need of saving. I believe next chapter rightly, Rei is going to point out that the ones most in need of saving are the ones who suffered the most because of Endeavor’s actions. Endeavor was never the one in need of saving, and in need of redemption in the first place, rather it was Dabi.

1. Started From the Bottom Now We’re Even Lower

Hawks and Dabi are seeming opposites even from their origin points. Hawks was born in a poor household the son to a minor villain, Touya a rich household the son of the number two hero. Hawks family name basically means nothing to the point where the hero commission easily erased it, whereas Dabi’s family name has dominated his entire life. Touya from a young age was given everything he needed to become a hero and his father even encouraged him, while Hawks was on the run from the law and couldn’t even leave his small house without getting yelled at.

At first, Hawks was born with a quirk that both of his parents disapproved of as they constantly asked him what his wings were even for, and seemed disgusted by his mutation. While at the same time, Touya was born with a quirk that his father was happy with, a fire quirk even stronger than his own which Enji thought gave him enough of a potential that he didn’t need to worry about finding an ideal hybrid quirk. He could pass all his techniques onto his firstborn son who seemed eager to learn.

The only real similarity between both of them was that for both children, Endeavor was clearly their favorite hero. Touya was eager to please his father and train with him in order to inherit his hero techniques, and when Endeavor captured Hawks father, it convinced Hawks that heroes were real.

However, both of them experienced a sudden reversal of fate. This is where circumstances for both of them flipped. Touya’s quirk was in fact revealed to be a very harmful hybridization of his parents two quirks, he inherited his father’s flames but even hotter, while at the same time inheriting Rei’s sensitivity to fire which made th overheating flaw even worse on him causing his quirk to deliberately harm his body. Hawks however, is an ideali hybridization of both of his parents quirks. His mother Tomie has a quirk that creates eyeballs and seems ideal for searching, watching and locating things, while his father’s feather quirks on his arms that could sharpen into blades turned into wings on his back that were both capable of searching and detection like his mother’s eyeballs and sharpening into blades like his father’s.

At first it seems destined that Touya was ging to become a hero, while Hawks had no hope for him, but because of the nature of their quirks the opposite happened. When Hawks was young he was able to save a busload of people from crashing which got him recruited by the hero commission. While it’s implied that Touya kept trying to train on his own even after Endeavor stopped the training and abandoned him in favor of Shoto, and because of that Touya had his training accident at Sekoto peek and burned to death.

Dabi and Hawks are seeming opposites, but they’re actually quite similar if you think about it. Both of them grew up in abusive households that are intentionally paralleled, they have controlling and physically violent fathers, and mothers who are coded as mentally ill, Tomie was unfit to take care of a child, and Rei was eventually pushed to a breaking point where she was unable to anymore and then forcibly separated and institutionalized by her husband. Both, also experienced a separation from their mother, Rei was hospitalized around the time Toya finally died, and the Hero Commission promised Tomie support if she cut all ties from him. Both of them also dreamed of becoming heroes, and tried their best to, even Touya after his father rejected him kept training on their own.

The only difference between them is circumstances, Hawks was saved because he was born with a useful quirk, Touya despite his father being the number two hero was never saved.

2. We’re the Heroes, Who Don’t Do Anything

In fact it’s implied that Enji intentionally looked away and forced himself to forget Touya’s suffering. For instance, the first time Touya trains with Enji he’s shown wearing a sleeveless shirt. Every time after that, Touya has long jacket sleeves on. When he’s crying to Natsuo, when he’s pulling out his hair, and the last memory from before his death, every time Touya is shown hiding his arms. We also know that Dabi, has burns that go all the way up his arms which is exactly where his flames emerge from. It’s also the place where Touya burns himself when Enji remembers training with him for the first time.

It’s likely that Touya was walking around with burns up his arms from the training he was inflicting on himself, and Enji simply didn’t notice because his unreliable narrator status, he forgets everything he has done to other members of his family, or intentionally downplays the severity of it in order to avoid the guilt and consequences of his actions. Hence why he can say things like “I never meant to neglect you” to Natsuo, when we saw him call Natsuo and the others failures from Shoto’s perspective, because in Enji’s perspective he’s just a good father who went wrong somewhere along the line, whereas from Natsuo’s perspective he never really acted like a father towards him at all.

Enji only ever sees his own intentions, and not the impact his actions had on others. He only saw his heroic ambitions, and not the way he taught Touya that his only value was his quirk, and then completely tossed him aside as a failure and ignored all his suffering when Touya kept trying to get his attention. That he intentionally neglected Touya until either an accident or a suicide claimed his life.

Either way it’s a running theme that Endeavor hesitates when it comes to saving his own sons. Despite seeing himself as both a hero and a father, he completely fails in both roles to them.

He froze when it came time to save Natsuo from Ending, and the second time when Shoto was begging Endeavor for help against Dabi, Endeavor chose not to do a single thing. In fact the only thing that moved him was Deku’s pep talk that exclusively stoked his ego and called him a good mentor, which caused Endeavor to finally move into action.

Endeavor is a hero in name who has no interest in directly saving others, because his number one priority has always been to stand at the number one spot and feel like he’s accomplished something. He didn’t notice Touya was most likely continuing the training on his own, and was spiraling that badly until after Touya had died, and even after that happened he still continued the training with Shoto like nothing happened, even mentioning that Touya was a small mistake.

When the wounds from Touya’s death were still fresh, it seemed like barely anything more than an afterthought to him. There are some people who even theorize that Enji only believed Touya was always alive because he had never truly faced the guilt of Touya’s death and his role in it, that it was a comfort to him to believe his son was still secretly alive out there.

The signs were obvious that Touya was spiraling, but he was neglected so much that Endeavor the number two hero who prides himself on most cases resolved didn’t notice what was going wrong with his son until he literally burned himself alive, and even then that wasn’t enough to stop him from mistreating his other son and forcing him into painful training.

Touya’s neglect is as much abuse as Shoto’s favoritism and training, that’s the point of the golden child / scapegoat dynamic, they are both being abused. Enji was the only parent in the household, and if his kid was burning himself, and injuring himself all the time and it got to the point where the child literally died because of a lack of adult supervision, Enji could be prosecuted for manslaughter in a court of law. There are cases where adults just, do absolutely nothing for their kids, and those kids sometimes die of neglect, starvation, because of their parents completely failing to take care of them. It’s just as sinister a form of abuse as physical abuse. In both cases a child’s needs aren’t being provided for by their parents.

Dabi is someone who could have been easily saved by his father paying attention to him, and should have been saved by the man who prides himself as the number two hero, but he was left to rot. This is a running theme with Endeavor, he’s a hero who continually fails to save his family.

Dabi’s situation is also a metaphor for hero society at large. Who are the types of people that Hero Society prefers to save? Those who are useful to it like Hawks. It intentionally turns a blind eye to cases like Touya, Tenko or Twice. If Touya did have burns on his arms from training but was able to cover them up just by wearing long sleeves, and Natsuo was the only one who knew then that goes even further to explain Dabi’s specific obsession with discrediting Endeavor.

If Dabi’s father had just acted like a hero, or acted like a father then he would have been saved. If Dabi’s father had noticed the person most in need of saving was right next to him, the incident where he burned to death never would have happened. Which is why Dabi’s grudge is specifically against heroes who do not act like heroes. Heroes who, cannot save anyone because they are too self involved to perform the duty of saving. He shares Stain’s obsession with ideologically pure heroes, that only heroes who put saving others selflessly over everything else should be allowed to exist and the rest are pretenders to the title.

Notice how Dabi pulls on the scars on his face when begging the people to think about this, about who should really be allowed to call themselves heroes.

Dabi’s entire arc revolves around this question. Who are the real victims? Who are the ones that really need to be saved? Dabi is a character of mystery and subversion who is constantly hiding his real feelings.

Dabi is commented on being heartless about Twice’s death, but his actions contradict his words. Dabi goes out of his way trying to avenge Twice even after it’s already too late to save him, even burning up his own body to do so. He tried so hard we see literally there are new scars growing on his back the next time we see him Post-War Arc.

I’d also like to bring up that while Hawks accuses Dabi of feeling nothing about Twice’s death, Hawks is the one who killed him, and who after the fact shows no regret in his actions because he’s completely justified it to himself. He even remembers Twice like he’s some kind of old friend he took inspiration from, and not a person he manipulated into trusting him then killed. My point is it’s a reversal, Hawks is set up as the one who cares about Twice as a friend, but really was only using him. Dabi claims he was only using him, but he’s the one who showed an actual emotional reaction to Twice’s death and made an effort to save him.

If I were to say this is one more point of foiling between Dabi and Hawks. They both don’t see themselves as victims and because of that they deny the victimhood of the other.

Dabi accuses Hawks of becoming a murderer because his father was a murderer. Hawks when he learns the truth about Enji, takes Enji’s side over Dabi’s, believing Endeavor being the true victim in need of help in that situation. This is because Dabi and Hawks both deny their own victimhood, and they project that on each other. Dabi denies his victimhood and pretends to be the villain instead, he’s the villain who is going to take down Endeavor and therefore he’s not suffering. Hawks denies his own victimhood and his abusive past and pretends to be a hero, he’s helping Endeavor become a better hero, so therefore all the abuse Endeavor committed is in the past so therefore he doesn’t have to think about it. Both deny themselves and therefore deny any similarity in one another.

They’re also two people fatally wrapped up in their own circumstances they turn a blind eye to the suffering of others. Dabi assumes that Shoto is “good” and therefore, must have been raised with love and had it better than him and was raised with love. Whereas Hawks assumes that Twice is “good”, and therefore worthy of saving because he helps other people. In both cases, neither Dabi nor Hawks really understand Shoto or Twice, they’re just judging them by their own projected standards. Dabi only understands his childhood as Touya desperately trying to work for Enji’s attention, so Shoto who had Enji’s attention must have had it good. Hawks was saved because of the bus accident where he saved people as a hero, so obviously it makes sense he reach out to try to save another good person who just had bad luck.

Despite the fact that both of them are pretty much emotionally dead and in deep denial of their true feelings.

Dabi has also made a show of how little he cares about Natsuo, while at the same time his most famous line from the pro hero arc is “overthought things and snapped...”

Dabi is also the only one who notices it’s dangerous to bring Tokoyami onto a battlefield. This is when he asks the question, who is it who needs saving.

We learn at around the same time, the hope from the Pro Hero arc was intentionally a set up by Dabi to bring Endeavor down, and show everyone eventually that Endeavor hadn’t truly changed.

These are all small details yes, but keep in mind we’ve really only gotten crumbs of Dabi’s characterization so far because his perspective is one that has deliberately been kept from us. We see his past through almost everyone else’s eyes but his own - because so far the focus has been on Endeavor.

Just like Dabi set up Endeavor’s earlier success only to bring him down, this might also lead to a reversal in the narratives. In 299, Hawks believed Endeavor to be the one in need of help. We are also as an audience set up to believe that the narrative arc will focus around Endeavor’s redemption. This is before the series revealed the circumstances of his son.

However, Endeavor and Dabi are literal opposites. They’re inversions of each other. Dabi pretends he doesn’t care any more for his family and will go out of his way to hurt them, that all he cares about is revenge, but at the same his ideals are heroic. In his actions and ideals he’s the one calling for a better society. Dabi is the most independent and distant from the league it’s true, and so far he’s denied their friendship, but at the same time it’s Dabi who is the most idealistic of the league. Shigaraki wants to destroy the current society, Himiko wants a society that’s easier on her, but it’s Dabi who has the ideals for a society he wants, one where heroes are held to standards and act like Heroes. It’s dabi better than anyone else who makes the standards for mass appeal. Because, deep down Dabi still has heroic aspirations and drive even if it comes from Stain of all people he’s inspired by. He has some sort of ideals, a world he’s trying to create.

Whereas, Endeavor doesn’t have any heroic ideals at all. His idea of being a hero has always centered around fame, status and the ranking of number one. He’s a hero unconcerned with saving people, only defeating villains to prove his strength. Endeavor presents himself outwardly as someone who is trying to do what’s best for his family, and working towards being the best hero he can be but his intentions are revealed to be selfish, at the same time as Enji’s narration is revealed as unreliable. It may have been set up for an inversion all along, with the setup being that Enji is the one who needed to redeem himself, when Dabi was pushed to the background. Around this time Rei also tried to reassure others, that he was trying to carry his regrets with him.

However, as soon as Touya’s identity is revealed, Rei’s stance reverses. Now she properly calls out that, Enji hasn’t been carrying his regrets at al.. Instead, he’s been forcing his family to carry the burden of it while he gets to go play hero in front of the public.

As soon as Touya is revealed to be alive, it’s not Enji who is the center and focus of conversation but rather Touya. In 299, Hawks believes that it’s Endeavor whose in need of saving, but we’re shown that Endeavor only really seems to pity himself in this situation.

It’s Rei who shows up to remind us, who really is in need of saving in this situation. Not Endeavor but rather those who have been burned the most by Endeavor’s actions.

Which may be the ultimate parallel between Hawks and Dabi as well, Hawks can’t see himself as a victim so he can’t realize who the victims who need his help the most is. Whereas, Dabi in the future may receive the change of heart he needs to reopen his heart again and accept others, and therefore learn to accept himself. Dabi is set up for a reconciliation between his two selves, Touya the victim and Dabi the villain. While ultimately, Hawks will intentionally turn his back on Keigo the victim, because he can only ever see himself as a hero.

I’m not suggesting that Dabi is good or Hawks is bad, or the other way around, not something as simple as that but that Dabi is open to change, and this will lead to him eventually opening up to others. Whereas, Hawks who is given practically every opportunity to change, and even escapes killing Twice with no permanent consequences, (his wings are growing back, and he even is freed from the hero commission) chooses to support Endeavor once again. It’s Dabi who calls others to think and reevaluate, and is actively trying to create a change in the world, whereas Hawks only interest is protecting other heroes and not the victims that heroes themselves create. Because in his mind heroes are good and that fact will never change.

Because Dabi is the one trying to create change, while Hawks continues to cling to Endeavor I believe we’ll eventually receive a reversal for both of them. Just as the narrative around Dabi has changed from irredeemable villain to person in need of saving, we may see exactly what was foreshadowed in this panel happening. Dabi walking towards the light, while Hawks falls further and further into the shadows - because it’s Dabi who is looking for that light, while Hawks chooses to remain in the dark. Hawks was saved once, and now he believes that everyone who is good gets saved, unless they are unlucky like Twice. It’s Dabi who knows the truth, that there are heroes who don’t save people, and it’s Dabi who is at least trying to confront that truth head on and change it rather than just ignoring it.

In a way Hawks is someone who has gone blind from looking too closely at Endeavor’s light, whereas because Dabi was failed by Endeavor and fell into the shadows he at least knows the truth about what it’s like for those who don’t get saved, and unlike Hawks can’t keep deluding himself that this is a world where everyone who deserves it gets saved.

#dabi #hawks #toya todoroki #touya todoroki #takami keigo #mha meta #my hero academia meta #my hero academia theory #bnha 299 #bnha 300 #mha 299 #mha 300

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caelestis-composition · 3 years

Text

⭒ childe with a musician s/o ⭒

request for anon: hello! can i get hcs of childe with a s/o who’s a musician/likes playing music? take ur time and have a good day !

anon. you are speaking my language. i got SO excited when i saw this request you have no idea. as a musician and singer myself i went WILD your request prompted an entire conversation with one of my partners about genshin characters and instruments and music

full thing will be under the cut!

⭒

pairing: childe/reader

characters: childe

genre: fluff

word count: 544

⭒

⋆ whether you sing or play an instrument, childe is obsessed

⋆ he could literally sit watching and listening to you for hours

⋆ he’s one of those annoying people who finds out you can sing or play an instrument and immediately asks you to sing/play for him. he doesn’t mean it in an annoying way, he just gets excited and wants to hear you!

⋆ the pros of childe finding out you’re a musician include the fact that he is probably the biggest ego-booster ever. he’s so encouraging, no matter what sort of music you make or how “good” you deem yourself

⋆ the cons include the fact that now he won’t leave you alone. at any given point in the day, he’ll ask you to sing or play for him because he just loves it that much

⋆ duets. the two of you will partake in many duets because as much as childe enjoys listening to just you, he also loves joining in

⋆ childe can definitely sing (his english voice actor, griffin burns, is a wonderful singer; seriously go listen to his and his band’s music) so he’ll often sing or hum along with you if you’re playing or singing a tune he recognizes

⋆ if you also sing, be prepared for a lot of impromptu duets when childe has spent far too much time at a tavern or bar

⋆ also since he’s a rich boy, i think he definitely plays the piano. he has good hands for piano-playing.

⋆ so if the two of you are around any sort of piano, he’ll offer to play for you

⋆ if you mainly sing, he likes to play piano accompaniment for you. if you mainly play an instrument, childe loves finding any way he can to play a duet with you

⋆ be warned, though. if you play the piano or any similar instruments, he’ll definitely rope you into playing accompaniment for him at some point

⋆ childe is your biggest fan and your biggest cheerleader, especially if you’re still pretty new at whatever you play! and if you need help, don’t hesitate to ask him. childe is no professional, but he knows at least the basics for both vocal and instrumental music

⋆ if childe can’t help you and you’d want it, he’ll hire a tutor or enroll you in private lessons. if you try and tell him he doesn’t need to go that far, he’ll just wave his hand and scoff

⋆ “it’s a small price to pay to help you better something that makes you so happy!”

⋆ if you’re in any sort of music group or band, childe is at every show. every single one. he’s a busy man, but he will literally clear out his schedule if it means he gets to see you perform

⋆ after any shows you have, you’ll find him waiting with a huge bouquet of your favorite flowers

⋆ and if you don’t perform in any sort of group, childe will practically beg for a private performance sometime

⋆ he also surprises you with new pieces of music from time-to-time. where does he find them? how does he get them? honestly who knows, and it’s not like childe is going to tell you.

⋆ please just let this man listen to you sing or play. you will not regret it.

#brynn’s writing #brynn’s headcanons #brynn's requests #genshin impact #genshin #genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #genshin impact headcanons #childe #genshin childe #childe x reader #tartaglia #tartaglia x reader #genshin tartaglia #fluff

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lesbobiwan · 3 years

Note

Could I ask for 33 and 100 with Rex or Cody? I might be obsessed with your blog...

of course!! thank u for the request!

#33: "Pushing back against my fingers already? How pathetic.” and #100: "Call me selfish, but I don't ever want anyone else to touch you." + Cody

warnings: sub!cody inspired by this art by @thiccumz and this fic by @zinzinina, strap ons, f!reader, pegging, the word slut is used a few times, cody wearing lingerie

You know he doesn't mean to encourage behavior like this. You know this woman is drunk and doesn't mean anything by it.

Still, none of these thoughts do much to quell the fire that burns deep in your chest and threatens to spill out your throat as the woman titters at something Cody said and rests a hand on his forearm.

"You're so funny, Commander," she purrs, trailing her fingers up Cody's arm. You hear the scratch of her nails against Cody's skin and the stuttered words of the commander as he tries to back away.

His eyes catch yours multiple times from across the bar, but there isn't much you can do besides pour drinks and try not to lose your head.

You doubt your boss would like it too much if you got into a fight with some drunk woman because she scratched your boyfriend a little.

But it's not just that.

It's the flush of Cody's cheeks as her nails trail up his arm. You make him blush like that. You make his words catch in his throat and his breath hitch. Not some lady looking to add a clone commander to the notches on her bedpost.

The woman stays with him all night. Miraculously, she stays on her feet despite the unholy amount of drinks she's ingesting. Unfortunately, company policy is to not cut off customers if they aren't incapable of walking.

You'll hand it to the woman, she can hold her liquor.

On one hand, you're grateful for Cody. He's a watchful eye on the woman, making sure no one slips something in her drink or tries to coax her to bed.

On the other hand, you're angry at him. It's irrational, but you wish he would just tell her to get lost. He's your boyfriend.

Oh well. His ass will pay the price.

Literally.

You finally approach his spot at the bar, having just rung out the last tab and been given the all-clear to head home, as is your routine.

"Can I get you anything else, Commander?" You ask, like you do every night he comes to your bar. You can almost forget about the woman when you just focus on him.

Cody immediately perks up, lips curling into his boyish smile that only you get the privilege of seeing. "Maybe some advice?" he replies, like always — like he's done since the very first night you met him just like this — "There's this bartender that's been eyeing me all night. Think I should ask her for her number?"

You pretend to ponder it, even though the first time he had asked you that question all those cycles ago you responded without hesitation, "I don't know. This bartender — she cute?"

Cody whistles appreciatively, "The cutest."

"Then, I think you should give it a shot," you drop your voice, leaning over the bar and just barely pushing your chest out in his direction.

His eyes drop down to the low-riding neckline of your shirt and you smother your victorious grin behind pursed lips.

"C'mmand'r," the woman slurs, finally making herself known, "I thought we were g'nna get out of —"

"You thought wrong," you snap, and it's laced with only a fraction of the venom you feel swirling around your mouth. "Your cab is out front. I suggest you get lost."

(You had taken the liberty of calling her a ride home before you clocked out.)

Your hand closes around Cody and you pull him out of the bar without waiting for her response.

Perks of living right by the bar you work at: a short walk when all you want to do is go home and fuck the life out of your boyfriend.

Faults of living right by the bar at: not enough time to fully plan exactly how you're going to fuck the life out of your boyfriend.

Cody stumbles after you, "I didn't flirt with her," he tells you, even though you know that. Cody would never. He's too good to you.

"I don't care," you seethe, unlocking the door to your apartment and pushing him through the threshold.

You step in after him, and as soon as you have the door closed, you're spinning him around and pinning him against the wood that's definitely seen better days. "Call me selfish," you pant into the space between you, "But I don't ever want anyone else to touch you."

Cody blinks owlishly at you, mouth dropped open in surprise. This close, you can feel his hot breath fanning against your lips and his thudding heartbeat from where your chests are pressed together.

He starts to whisper your name, voice drenched in arousal, but you cut him off.

"Get to the bedroom. Clothes off. I need to grab something from the bathroom." You inform him, and one of your hands trail up to scratch lightly beneath his jaw.

Cody can't stifle his groan at your words. His cock hardens through his pants, pushing against your thigh, and you can't help but grind your thigh against him before pulling back.

"Go."

His feet smack against the floor as he stumbles away in his enthusiasm to get to the bedroom.

Cody loves it when there's something you need to grab from the bathroom.

You take your time in grabbing the harness and selecting which fake cock you think will best suit tonight's purpose. You linger after grabbing the lube, taking the time to make sure there's nothing in your teeth. You carefully pull off your clothes and step into the harness, making sure you're strapped in tight.

By the time you get to the bedroom, you're sure there's nothing that can throw you off your game. You're about to rock Cody's world. You're infallible, unflappable.

And then you walk into the room and Cody's wearing lingerie.

A beautiful yellow, almost a dark gold that's identical to his armor. Delicate lace is stretched across his pectorals, cupping the muscles deliciously and you can see the way his hard nipples poke out against the fabric.

You zero in on the garters he's wearing. You want to snap them against his thighs. You want to watch the skin redden beneath. You want you want you want.

His cock strains against the lace that can barely conceal it. There's already a little wet spot where the tip of his cock is. Fuck, he's leaking already.

"D'you like it?"

You snap your gaze back up to Cody's.

His face is flushed, and he shifts atop your bed like he's shy, like he doesn't know that you want nothing more than to sit and look for the rest of your life.

"Oh, Cod'ika," you breathe, stepping closer and kneeling on the bed. Your hands trail up his thighs, running along the garter that you're just itching to pull back and let bite into his skin. "You're beautiful."

Cody flushes even more, ducking his head down. His hands flit nervously along the lace that wraps around his waist. "Just wanted to surprise you," he whispers, fingers fiddling with the fabric.

"Fuck, I could just eat you up," you whisper before rising up to press your lips to his.

Immediately, Cody goes boneless against your kiss. His lips go slack and he eagerly welcomes your tongue, offering up no resistance as you dominate the kiss.

Stars, kissing Cody like this gives you such a headrush. This is better than any spice in the galaxy.

"Hands and knees," you whisper against his lips.

Cody whimpers before arranging himself into position. He drops down onto his elbows instead of staying propped up on his hands, sending his back into an enticing arch.

Such a little cockslut, you think to yourself, growing wet beneath the harness.

You don't touch him yet, content to just let him wait.

Instead, you pop open the bottle of lube, noticing how Cody jolts at the sound of the bottle cap cracking open.

There's no back to the lingerie, only strap framing his ass that hold up the lace in the front that holds his cock. Your mouth goes dry at the sight.

"Just look at you," you whisper, inching closer to his trembling form on the bed. "You that much of a slut that you had to wear lingerie underneath your clothes all day?"

Cody's moan is muffled into the sheets. The muscles of his back ripple with how he shifts his upper body in anticipation.

You press just one lubed up finger to the rim of his asshole, and he immediately jerks beneath you.

"Easy," you soothe as you press your finger past the tight rim of muscle. Your second hand comes up to stroke his hip through the lace.

Cody's next moan is ripped from his throat and almost sounds painful. "More!" he begs, tilting his head to the side. His harsh pants fill the room now that he's not muffling himself.

Good. You want to hear him.

"More?" you repeat, teasing a second finger at his rim. "You want another finger so soon?"

"Please!"

You press your second finger in and immediately begin scissoring your two fingers. "You're so tight," you hiss, rubbing at the beneath his balls.

Cody keens. His cock jerks against the scrap of fabric holding him in.

Fuck you want to taste him.

He rolls his hips back against you, sobbing into the sheets as he rides your fingers.

Your grin is downright feral as you push in a third finger, maybe a bit too soon if his guttural sound is anything to go by, but you know Cody loves a hint of pain with his pleasure. "Pushing back against my fingers already?" You tsk in mock disappointment. "Pathetic."

Cody turns to look at you over his shoulder, and you're delighted to see his eyes wet with unshed tears. "Please, fuck me!" he begs, pushing unashamed against your hand in search for his own pleasure.

You've been pointedly avoiding his prostate. The dildo you picked will compensate for that more than enough.

"You think you're ready?" you ask even as you line up the tip of the silicone to his winking hole.

"Please!"

Your grin is all teeth as you sink in until your hips meet his ass cheeks.

You pull Cody's head up by his hair before he can muffle his wails into the mattress.

His sharp cry of pleasure echoes through the room, bouncing off the walls until you're sure your neighbors can hear it.

Good. You want everyone to hear how you can make Marshall Commander Cody a dripping mess with your cock.

You instantly set a brutal pace, pulling out and pounding back in with long thrusts.

Cody can never shut his mouth when he's fucking you, and it only gets ten times worse when you're the one fucking him.

He's a mess. His eyes roll so far back in his head you think they'll actually get stuck, and his hands grab at your sheets so tightly you hear them start to rip.

You actually have to speak up in order to be heard over the way Cody moans.

"You're stretched so tight around me," you pant, finally giving into the urge to snap the garter against his thigh.

The ensuing yelp is delicious.

"You think that woman at the bar knows you went home and got fucked?" you hiss, snapping your hips harder against him, "You think she knows how much you like to get fucked by your girlfriend?"

Cody wails.

"Fuck, you're such a slut, Cod'ika," you grin and wrap your hand around his cock, pulling him free from his lacy confines.

You jerk him in time with your thrusts, and it isn't long before he's a leaking mess over your fingers.

His body can't seem to decide whether it wants to push back into your thrusts or fuck into the tight circle of your fist. Cody's thighs tremble each time you punch into his tight hole.

"You gonna cum for me?" you purr, pulling him up so his back is pressed flush to your front. You add a twist of your wrist on every upstroke of his cock.

That seems do to the trick.

Cody seizes up around you, clenching so hard around the dildo inside of him that he stops your thrusts as he cums in ropes against his stomach, and eventually dribbling down your knuckles.

You ease the strap-on out of him once he rides out the last of his orgasm and lay him down on his back. You lose yourself in the movements of wiping the cum from his torso and the tears from his cheeks.

You slide the harness off of you, ignoring the slick feeling between your thighs in favor of crawling onto the bed next to Cody and draping your body atop his.

Immediately, his arms wrap around your waist and he buries his nose into your hair.

"I didn't think you flirted with her," you whisper as you trace swirls into his skin.

Cody hums, "I know," he assures you, voice slurred with sleep. "If this is how you're gonna act when someone tries to feel me up, by all means be my guest,"

#we peg men here!!!#cod'ika my beloved #men in lingerie pleath #rebelpitstop #100 follower celebration #commander cody x reader #cody x reader

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theres-a-goldensky · 3 years

Text

30 More The Untamed Fic Recs

Here we go again. Another Wangxian rec list. Are you bored of me yet?

Were these recs helpful to you? If so, you can check out my other Wangxian rec posts:

Part 1 - 40 recs

Part 2 - 23 recs

Part 3 - 23 recs

As ever, feel free to reblog.

You can also head over to my bookmarks on AO3.

(All recs are complete) (I’ve noted pairings, length, and rating, but not any warnings or additional tags.)

** denotes personal favorite

1. say it's here where our pieces fall in place by Lirelyn - ~69,000 words, explicit - Modern AU where Lan Zhan meets Wei Wuxian after he adopts a small A-Yuan, because Wei Wuxian also has a past with him. Lots of adorable family feelings and emotional hurt/comfort.

As often happened, Wei Ying’s voice preceded his entrance, calling to his co-worker through the open door, “Frankie, they forgot to order spoons again, can you hold down the fort a little longer while I —”

Lan Wangji was already looking to his entrance, head turning as if magnetized toward the voice, so he saw the moment when Wei Ying’s eyes landed on A-Yuan and the smile fell from his face. He looked stricken, and Lan Wangji immediately looked to his son in alarm. A-Yuan seemed fine. His small eyebrows were pulled together in a small frown as he looked back at Wei Ying, but that wasn’t surprising, given the expression on Wei Ying’s face. Lan Wangji had seen that face beaming, laughing, whining, wheedling, and occasionally angry, but never like this. He looked blank and hollow and it stirred something fierce in Lan Wangji: he wanted to rise up and obliterate whatever was making him look like that. Then his eyes lifted to Lan Wangji and there was a flash of something almost like betrayal, before he pressed his lips together and turned his back.

“I’m going to run out to the store and get spoons,” he said in a flat voice to his co-worker, and left without looking their way again.

2. the breaking of your soul (upon my lips) by sunsandships - ~41,000 words, mature - This is an AU of the novel where Wei Wuxian puts two and two together when Lan Zhan sneaks that kiss from him. It changes a lot of things.

Against his own will, Wei Wuxian found himself glancing at Lan Wangji’s hands. They were… certainly large enough that one of them could wrap around both of his wrists. And Lan Wangji was certainly strong enough, tall enough, broad-shouldered enough to bodily pin him against the trunk of a tree with no chance of him breaking free. Lan Wangji was the first person he’d come across in his slow comb through the vicinity of where he’d been so headily kissed.

Wei Wuxian drew a sharp breath. There was a connection to be made here. He didn’t think he was crazy enough to make it. Perhaps he truly was going slightly insane with demonic cultivation if he could believe Lan Wangji, the paragon of virtue and respectability, who lived unflinchingly under Gusu Lan’s three thousand edicts, who had at best only tolerated his presence as children, would sneak up to him while he was blindfolded, pin him against a tree, and steal a kiss from him in broad daylight.

3. and his wanting grows teeth by yukla - ~25,000 words, teen - This is a very interesting AU where Lan Zhan is a traveling cultivator and runs into Wei Wuxian and the Jiangs looking for shelter during a snowstorm. No spoilers, but this fic goes to a pretty dark place that genuinely shocked me, but I enjoyed. (Still ends well though.)

Without further ado, they are hustled past the entrance and into a smaller greeting area. Huang-bobo approaches the brazier in the center with his hands outstretched, warming his fingers in the heat, but Lan Wangji hangs back. As he carefully brushes the snow free from his shoulders, he feels the burn of a curious gaze trailing up and down his body, lingering at the guqin still strapped to his back; when the sensation pauses at his face and stays there, he lifts his head.

The boy with the ribbon lights up at the eye contact, flashes another dazzling smile, and gives a little wave.

“You must be new here,” he whispers, something like laughter threaded into his voice, eyes scrunching into winking half-moons. “All dressed up in white like that! You might lose yourself in the snowstorm!”

Something stirs to life in Lan Wangji’s chest. It’s—uncomfortable, he decides, and so he steps away. Teasing should not be encouraged with a response.

4. Ghosts Shouldn't by ShanaStoryteller - ~15,000 words, not rated - After Wei Ying's death, his spirit seems to linger. The story is told from Lan Xichen's point of view. I love an outsider point of view. I also love the way the author fleshes out his character as well.

Lan Xichen means to force his way inside, angry ghost of the Yiling Patriarch or no, but then his brother lets out slow breath, settling, the pain easing from his face as he falls back into a more peaceful sleep.

His hair is moving on its own, so subtly Lan Xichen might not have noticed it if he hadn’t been looking at Wangji so intently. It’s like someone’s running their hand through his hair.

The window frosts over suddenly, thick enough that he can’t see through it. Anxiety spikes through him so quickly he’s nauseous with it, but then the frost melts away and the opening notes of Healing start up again.

He can’t tell if it’s a warning or not. Maybe it’s just an acknowledgement. Wei Wuxian knows he’s there.

5. **leading tone by silencemostofall - ~32,000 words, general - This is a modern AU set in a world where people who love you leave a mark of color on you the first time you touch. Wei Wuxian has no color on him. So much emotional hurt/comfort. So much of Wei Wuxian's terrible self-esteem.

He can cover up his palms with his gloves, so that the blankness does not draw stares. But he has no marks on his fingertips, which he cannot easily hide, and none visible on his face or neck, the blankness of which is even more difficult to hide. People look at him and, with a single glance, understand the single most devastating truth that he knows about himself.

They assume that he does not have very many marks. He may be an eccentric, dramatic person, but the likelihood that an individual has all of their marks on, say, their feet or their torso or other places that are not immediately obvious-- that probability goes down as your number of marks increases. He can laugh as much as he wants about how he loves touching people for the first time with odd places, like the knee or the elbow, but it doesn't quite mask the feeling of other that he knows he exudes.

They assume that he does not have a lot of marks. This, while a heavy weight, is not unbearably so. It is okay that they think he is not much loved. It chafes a bit, and feels occasionally like something he has to furiously push down within himself, but it is not unbearable. What would be unbearable is if they knew the truth: that he does not just have very few marks, but none. That he is simply an individual who is not loved at all.

6. **pastel by antebunny - ~7,000 words, gen - This is a remix work of the above fic. It's from Lan Zhan's point of view and just different enough to be interesting. Still lots of emotional hurt/comfort. I love this concept a whole lot, and both of these fics are great.

It’s a simmering day in May, and Wei Ying is wearing long sleeves, long pants, and gloves.

His choice of dress isn’t unusual for many reasons. For one, there’s plenty of people who don’t like strangers seeing their soulmarks. There’s plenty of people who wish to keep them private by covering them up. For another, Wei Ying spends most of his day in various chilly computer science department rooms, He could just be wearing long sleeves for that.

7. one good thing by Yuu_chi - ~27,000 words, teen - Wei Wuxian has died (or did he??) and is haunting his old home. Lan Zhan moves in. This story has a happy ending! And so much yearning!

To the flowers struggling to grow on the other side of the glass, he says, “We’re getting a new roommate. Well, I’m getting a new roommate - you’re getting somebody who might actually be able to water you for a change.” The flowers outside sway a little in the breeze, and Wei Wuxian nods contemplatively. “He can’t be any worse than the last guy who lived here. Remember when I spooked him while he was cooking and he nearly burnt the house down? Of course you don’t. You’re fucking foliage, your memory is worse than mine. I remember though, so it’s cool.”

There’s the sound of shuffling behind him and Wei Wuxian looks up to see the stranger has entered the kitchen, setting the last of the boxes down on the table. Disgustingly neat handwriting declares the box kitchen - homeware. The stranger carefully brushes his hair back from his face and, without so much as a second of hesitation, cracks open the box and begins unpacking.

“Wow, you really don’t waste any time, do you?” Wei Wuxian marvels. “You literally just got here - who cares about unpacking? Sit down for a moment, breathe, have something to eat. It’s not going anywhere.”

8. with you, I am home by tellthemstories - ~47,000 words, mature - Modern AU where Wei Wuxian is being forced to return home to entertain marriage proposals. So naturally instead he "convinces" Lan Zhan to pretend to date him. I love a good fake dating fic, and this one hits all the right beats.

Lan Zhan does that almost-smile thing that Wei Wuxian takes to mean he’s happy, or at the very least not-mad. “You don’t have any money.”

“Not true. I have the money from our last job, when we settled the vengeful spirit for the flower shop girl.” (He doesn’t. They have Lan Zhan’s money. Wei Wuxian spent his on a pack of loquats and three bottles of Emperor’s Smile wine.)

“Fine,” Wei Wuxian says. “Do it for me.”

Thinking back on it two weeks later, standing alone in the middle of Jin Ling’s graduation banquet and watching Lan Zhan walk away from him, Wei Wuxian realises that this, this was the moment when he should have known. He should have realised in the way Lan Zhan doesn’t hesitate or negotiate and just says with that half-fond, half-exasperated tone he gets sometimes, “Fine.”

9. and in the spring i shed my skin by wvlfqveen - ~11,000 words, teen - Modern AU where Wei Ying can't find Lan Zhan, but hey, there happens to be a rabbit here instead. Features a very slow Wei Ying, emotional hurt/comfort and accidental love confessions.

Immediately, his heart settles and he grins down at his new friend. “Oh, hello there,” he coos, reaching out to pet the fluffy ears. The bunny is very, very still under his hand.

“Did Lan Zhan bring you today?,” he continues cooing. “I’m sorry I missed that, but your Dad didn’t tell me he was bringing you.”

Lan Zhan rarely brings his rabbits to work since they are as tolerant of crowds and unnecessary noise as he is. They were probably relevant to today’s lesson but…

Wei Ying frowns. “Why would he leave you alone? And where is your cage?”

10. how, or when, or from where by sarahyyy - ~10,000 words, gen - Wei Ying wakes up in the hospital with amnesia and can't remember the last few years of his life, including his best friend and the guy he's in love with.

Jiang Cheng rolls his eyes so hard Wei Wuxian is surprised his eyeballs don’t just fall out of his eye sockets. “That’s the worst part. He did. Whatever mating ritual you both have going on is so fucking weird, Wei Wuxian.” He snorts. “If you’d stayed asleep for any longer, I’d have lost my shit and thrown my myself out a window just so I wouldn’t have to talk to Lan Wangji again.”

Wei Wuxian blinks at him. “Is this a good time to ask who Lan Wangji is?”

Jiang Cheng glares at him. “Your Lan Zhan,” he says, annoyed. Wei Wuxian must look as confused as he feels, because Jiang Cheng’s annoyance bleeds out into concern. “Your Lan er-gege? Your soulmate, Lan Wangji?”

Wei Wuxian shakes his head. “No bells are ringing.”

11. ** a shared plate by yukla - ~26,000 words, teen - This is an absolutely gorgeous fic about Wei Wuxian traveling the world post-canon to rediscover himself and restore his faith in humanity and eventually find his way back to Lan Zhan. The whole thing is great, but the last two chapters are just *chef's kiss*

Lan Zhan,

Just as the mountains stand unchanging and the green rivers flow ceaselessly, we will meet again — and between then and now, you cannot hope to avoid my letters, either! Haha! Lan Zhan, I’ve seen so many things and met so many people, and it’s only been a month!

I miss you already

It’s so hot that I find myself missing the wind in Gusu’s mountains. Your poor Wei Ying is I’m melting away, Lan Zhan...

I’m realizing now, sixteen years is a long time to be away — the world is vast, and quite a bit different than I remembered. And in sixteen years, a child can also grow up into a man! It’s your job to catch me up on A-Yuan’s fun childhood stories! I do remember hearing something about a pile of rabbits...

12. with your arms outstretched to me by annemari - ~14,000 words, teen - Lan Zhan finally gets up the nerve to ask Wei Ying on a date, but things don't go as expected. Features emotional hurt/comfort (are we sensing a theme with these recs??) and just regular hurt/comfort.

"Oh, man, I was hoping you had some water with you," Wei Ying says. "I totally forgot to bring any for myself. Stupid of me."

"There is enough for both of us," Lan Wangji says. He has another bigger bottle in the car, as well.

Wei Ying hums but he only takes a few sips. He presses it back into Lan Wangji's hand. "I don't need any more."

Lan Wangji is considering arguing, but then Wei Ying shifts a bit, moving his ankle, and gasps very, very quietly.

13. ** A Lot of Edges Called Perhaps by hansbekhart - ~22,000 words, explicit - Wei Wuxian has finished traveling and returned to the Cloud Recesses and Lan Zhan. But their lives never do run smoothly.

“Lan Jingyi,” Wei Wuxian says, recognizing him after a moment. His heart slams against his rib cage. “Where is Lan Zhan? What’s happened?”

Lan Jingyi flaps a hand at him, gulping air. Wei Wuxian hands him the water, and leans back against Little Apple’s side as he waits impatiently for the boy to get his breath back.

“I’m so glad I found you,” Jingyi gasps, just as Wei Wuxian is about to throttle a proper answer out of him. “Hanguang Jun was in such a state when he woke up, we didn’t know if you’d come and gone already.”

“Where is he, Jingyi,” Wei Wuxian says, as evenly as he can. “What happened?”

14. So Why Not Crack Your Skull When the Mind Swells by greenteafiend - ~14,000 words, explicit - Wei Wuxian is cursed to feel extraordinary pain unless he's touching Lan Zhan. Yet more of Wei Wuxian's self-esteem issues and Lan Zhan's steadfast devotion.

“Are you hurt, Wei Ying?” Lan Wangji asks, pressing his hand to Wei Ying’s forehead to feel his temperature. There is no fever, but that doesn’t do much to mitigate Lan Wangji’s worries.

“No—I’m not hurt,” says Wei Ying, sagging forward to lean his weight into Lan Wangji’s hand like he can’t help himself.

It’s so strange—Lan Wangji can feel what Wei Ying is feeling. Although the relief is still very profound, wisps of other things are making themselves known; happiness; wistfulness; guilt. It’s all so fleeting that Lan Wangji can’t even begin to deduce what has provoked those feelings, but he wishes he knew their source.

15. puzzle pieces by Anonymous - ~6,000 words, teen - Modern AU where Wei Ying and Lan Zhan are roommates, and Wei Ying has started borrowing Lan Zhan's clothes.

“Hm? Oh.” With sleepy eyes that does— things to Lan Zhan’s heart, he blinks and tugs at the lower hem of the shirt, which is riding just above the curve of his thighs. Does Lan Zhan’s mouth water? Maybe. Yes. Absolutely. “Ah, yeah, sorry. Laundry day caught up to me before I could catch up with it. I saw this shirt left in the washer a few days ago, and—“ He blinks up at Lan Zhan through dark eyelashes that Lan Zhan wants to kiss, maybe, and gives him an uncharacteristically hesitant smile. “Do you mind?”

I mind the fact that we are not married, Lan Zhan thinks. But he can’t say that, and his tongue doesn’t know how to say anything else. So he stays silent.

“Oh,” Wei Ying says after a moment. “If you—oh, damn, I should’ve known, this is like real silk, must’ve been super expensive. Fuck. Okay, here, uh, I’ll take it off—“

16. ** Nothing But Trouble by brooklinegirl - ~60,000 words, explicit - Modern AU where Wei Ying is trying to be a good brother and get Jiang Cheng laid. Somehow this plan involves pretending to date Lan Zhan.

"I won't!" Wei Ying insists. "I'll ask out someone...high stakes. I'll find someone. I'll...okay, how's this? I swear that I'll ask someone out and keep at it for at least two dates."

"No."

"Three dates."

"Nope."

"Okay, okay, five. That's fair! That's more than fair! One person, five dates." He points at Jiang Cheng. "You have to do it, too. That's how a pact works."

Jiang Cheng stares at him. "Five dates," he says flatly. "Five. And yours can't be Nie Huaisang."

17. i'm the one for your fire by occultings (microcomets) - ~43,000 words, explicit - This is a Modern AU and a Cherry Magic AU! (Side note: GO WATCH CHERRY MAGIC IF YOU HAVEN'T.) But in short, Wei Ying turns 30 without losing his virginity and gets the power to hear people's thoughts when he touches them. He gets more than he bargained for with Lan Zhan. The author does a good job of translating the story to these characters. Wei Ying is not forced to be like Adachi, the main character of Cherry Magic. He's still himself, and the same goes for Lan Zhan.

Lan Zhan’s voice is so clear, so sudden that it’s as though it’s spoken, the slice of a sharp object through velvet.

He’s touching me.

Wei Ying startles for a moment, wonders if he’d somehow heard his own thoughts instead, but — no, that had definitely been Lan Zhan’s steady, factual baritone, loud and clear.

God, this is still so weird. It still doesn’t seem totally real. But how else can he account for hearing Lan Zhan’s voice in his head, as clearly as if he’d spoken to Wei Ying directly?

18. like blue flame over my fingertips by tangerinechar - ~37,000 words, teen - Modern AU where Lan Zhan and Wei Ying are roommates, and Lan Zhan just finds himself wanting to take care of Wei Ying.

Lan Wangji’s roommate. Is a problem.

He doesn’t get an answer to the roommate problem until the next morning, when Lan Xichen texts him telling him that the apartment he’d suggested (and helped pay rent for) to Lan Wangji said in the small text that it’d be two people per apartment, the second bedroom wasn’t actually a guest bedroom, sorry, Wangji, you can move in with me if you want, I have space —

No. Thank you for your kind offer, Brother, but I will be quite fine, Lan Wangji texts back.

19. ** some impulse of delight by handclaps - ~20,000 words, explicit - College AU where Wei Ying decides he needs to help Lan Zhan get used to touching people. Lan Zhan agrees. Wei Ying is dumb and in love. Lan Zhan is less dumb, but still as in love.

Lan Zhan shakes his head and fumbles, tries to push the cotton wool into Wei Wuxian’s hand.

“Sorry,” Wei Wuxian says, realising. “Touching people, I know.”

He feels dumb. He thought he’d worn Lan Zhan down more than this, that they were friends now and that his whole no touching thing was mostly overcome. He took Wei Wuxian’s hand easily, right? He looks down at his belly full of scratches, dabbing at them moodily.

“Sorry,” he says, again.

Lan Zhan makes some kind of noise, but he is busy packing the first aid kit back, placing everything exactly where it was before.

“Lan Zhan, you’re going to have to do something about this,” Wei Wuxian complains. “I know you don’t like touching people and usually it plays as a kind of gentlemanly thing, but what about emergencies?”

20. And I Will Call You Home by Spodumene - ~43,000 words, explicit - Wei Wuxian returns after a year of traveling and rejoins Lan Zhan in the Cloud Recesses. He's doing a good job of pining and ignoring the obvious. Look, at this point, it shouldn't be a surprise that I'm a sucker for stories where Wei Wuxian deals with his ~*~issues~*~ and Lan Zhan takes care of him, whether he asks for it or not. This story has lots of that. I also enjoyed the case fic aspect of it.

“I do, I think,” Wei Wuxian admits. “Would be nice to see his face again after so long. And at least this time, I’m going to show up draped in finery. What do you think, Lan Zhan? I can’t possibly disgrace him—or you—wearing a cloak like that.”

“You could never disgrace me,” Lan Wangji says gently, that soft, affectionate look back on his face.

Wei Wuxian grins, warmed to the tips of his toes.

“I’ll remind you of that later. The next time I’m three jars deep and feeling especially shameless, you’ll have to remember those words, Lan Er-gege.”

“Of course,” Lan Wangji says simply.

Wei Wuxian smiles some more, overwhelmed by fondness.

21. darling, am i a chore? by martyrsdaughter - ~7,000 words, explicit - Wei Wuxian really, really wants Lan Zhan to call him 'gege'. Lan Zhan knows a trump card when he sees one.

“You know what I want,” Wei Wuxian purrs, reaching up on his tiptoes to throw his arms over Lan Wangji’s shoulders. “Call me gege, won’t you? Call me and I’ll stop.”

Lan Wangji knows he will not stop, regardless of what he calls him. Still, he thinks about it. If there really is a way to make Wei Wuxian stop, should he not consider it? He doesn’t have any real interest in curbing his husband’s insatiable mischievousness, but he does like knowing things about him—everything there is to know.

If there’s something that persuasive in the world, that it can bring Wei Wuxian into submission when no one is under threat, could he stop himself from seeking it?

22. your name, safe in their mouth by astrolesbian - ~11,000 words, gen - Wei Wuxian & Lan Sizhui fic with the Wangxian in the background. Lan Sizhui wants another dad and Wei Wuxian wants a son, they just don't know how to explain that to each other.

“Hush,” Wei Wuxian says, in a low croon, like someone quieting a baby. Then he blinks, and looks away, awkward. “I mean—you shouldn’t speak. You’re tired. Rest if you need to.”

Lan Sizhui tucks his chin into his uncle’s shoulder, and lets his eyes fall closed.

“It doesn’t hurt too much, does it?” Wen Ning whispers to him kindly.

Lan Sizhui takes a deep breath, and takes stock of all his aches, his ringing ear, his hollow chest, the way he had selfishly wanted Wei Wuxian to keep speaking to him in that careful voice, like he was just a child to be soothed and there was no real danger. How dangerous, to pretend. “No,” he lies. “It doesn’t hurt that much at all.”

23. when you're doing all the leaving (then it's never your love lost) by tardigradeschool - ~26,000 words, teen - AU where Lan Zhan with Wei Wuxian to Jin Ling's one-month celebration. Things go down, and it leads to Lan Zhan discovering Wei Wuxian's missing golden core. This obviously will not do, and oh look, the best doctor in the world just happens to be right here.

“How—“ Lan Wangji chokes. “His core —?” He looks at Wen Ning, half accusatory in his shock. “Jin Zixun could not have—“

“No, no!” Wen Ning says, holding out his hands. “He hasn’t had one for years, don’t worry!”

This is not as reassuring as Wen Ning seems to think.

“Please explain,” Lan Wangji says, pained. He feels for Wei Wuxian’s pulse instead; in the absence of a golden core, it will have to do as reassurance that he’s still alive.

Wen Ning is so anxious that the story comes out in a ramble, out of order. Lan Wangji wants him to hurry up, but he’s also not confident in his own ability to speak, so he just keeps quiet and lets him talk. His heart feels as if it’s about to fall from his chest, beating nearly twice as fast as Wei Wuxian’s does under his fingers.

24. A Match in the Making by lareine - ~30,000 words, teen - A Modern AU where Wei Wuxian sees his single and bad ass friend Lan Zhan and his single and bad ass friend Mianmian and gets some very dumb ideas.

To return to the point: Lan Zhan was peak adulting. Mianmian was peak adulting. And if they were both at the peak, then they were on the same level. What level? That mysterious level thing that everyone mentioned when it came to dating.

Whatever level it was, Lan Zhan and Mianmian were on it together. Wei Ying nodded to himself. So, Lan Zhan and Mianmian were allowed to date each other. The next question was: were they compatible? Did they have chemistry or whatever the fuck people called it?

25. Crack me open, pour you out by Tenillypo - ~16,000 words, explicit - Lan Zhan gets cursed to say whatever he's thinking. So his worst nightmare. Mutual pining, first time, all good stuff.

Lan Wangji freezes with his chopsticks halfway to his mouth, lifting his eyes to stare at Wei Ying.

"I know! Just completely paralyzed." Wei Ying mimes being still as a board. "I don't know how long I lay there. It must have been two days at least. Good thing for Little Apple. He wandered back to the village when he got hungry, and eventually a few of them got brave enough to come look for me. When they rolled me over, the figure fell out of my hand and I could move again. Cunning little thing." He shakes his head. "I was weak as a kitten for a little while after they took me back to the village, and by the time I recovered, they'd burned the whole place to the ground. Such a waste."

Lan Wangji slowly lowers his chopsticks, heart racing unpleasantly. In his head, a picture of Wei Ying slowly wasting to death alone in the middle of the woods, with Lan Wangji a hundred miles away and none the wiser.

26. Crazy, Rich Cultivators by ShanaStoryteller - 13,000 words, no rating - Lan Zhan wants to bring his boyfriend home to meet his family. There are some things he definitely didn't realize about Wei Ying.

“He has a life here,” he says down the line. He doesn’t say that he has a life here too, one he likes a lot more than the one he had before. He misses home. He’d miss Wei Ying more. But he doesn’t say that, doesn’t say how vibrant he is and how beautiful and how little interest Lan Zhan has at seeing him among the high society he grew up with.

“Well, your life is here, Wangji,” his brother says. “You can’t stay away from home forever. You’re going to have to see how he does with the rest of us sooner or later. It might as well be sooner.”

It might as well be never, as far as he’s concerned. His family can meet Wei Ying at their wedding.

“I’ll ask,” he says.

Wei Ying has no interest in cultivation politics. They’re horrible, the five clans have an iron tight alliance that’s thirty seconds away from collapsing in on itself the moment someone from one sect steps on another sect’s toes. It’s the worst and he hates it. Surely even just the idea of it will be so horrifying to Wei Ying that Lan Zhan will be able to tell his brother no.

27. just our hands clasped so tight by electrum ~4,000 words, teen - Lan Zhan really, really, really just wants to give Wei Ying everything he wants.

“Despite your best efforts,” Wei Wuxian agrees. He shakes his head in mock-dismay. “How much longer do you think that will last if you keep buying everything I look at?” When this, too, fails to soften Lan Zhan’s resolve, he tries a different tactic. “We couldn’t even afford potatoes,” he says. “Back when I was with the Wens, at the Burial Mounds. Only radishes! If I survived that, I can certainly survive without another pretty comb.”

Lan Zhan’s expression is at once unmoved and yet somehow stricken. “I would have bought Wei Ying potatoes,” he says, like Wei Wuxian doesn’t know, by this point, that Lan Zhan would buy him anything. “If I had known…”

28. ** Rotten Work by ShanaStoryteller - ~64,000 words, no rating - Jin Ling & Wei Wuxian with Wangxian in the background. Jin Ling is the best boy! And as he tries to rehabilitate his sect and his family and keep himself alive at the same time, he realizes, horrifyingly, that he has to be the mature one.

29. ** an act too often neglected by Ariaste - Lan Xichen / Meng Yao, ~61,000 words, explicit - The Wangxian is in the background here, but the main story is about Lan Xichen meeting Meng Yao on a dating app and getting immediately dickmatized. Meanwhile. Meng Yao refuses to be won over by Lan Xichen's charm. It goes as well as you'd expect for him.

The caption below is equally sparse: “5’6. Demanding.”

Lan Xichen feels a low simmer of arousal kindle in the pit of his stomach, and he gazes at that word-- demanding --for nearly as long as he’d stared at the photograph. He swipes right.

A few minutes later, a notification pops up: < Hm, the size of your hands is promising.

This is familiar. This is the flirtation stage. Lan Xichen knows the steps to the dance.

30. My Land Beneath Me by longleggedgit - ~30,000 words, explicit - Modern AU where Wei Wuxian is cast out of his sect and out of China to America. And Lan Zhan just...follows.

Lan Zhan always waited for his tea to cool before drinking, which meant he had nothing to do but give Wei Wuxian a judgmental look. “No more McDonald’s.”

“You’re just bitter because you get indigestion from anything that actually tastes good,” Wei Wuxian grumbled.

Because Lan Zhan was insufferably mature and patient, he didn’t rise to the bait. “We have time to stop somewhere before class,” he said.

“Fine. But you’re paying this time.”

It was a bad joke, and predictably, fell flat; Lan Zhan was, after all, paying for everything, every time. Wei Wuxian frowned into his mug.

“You know,” he said, after another swallow, “you really don’t have to be here. I’m going to figure something out.”

Interested in 86 more The Untamed fic recs?

Part 1 - 40 recs Part 2 - 23 recs Part 3 - 23 recs

#the untamed fic #the untamed #master of demonic cultivation #wangxian fic recs #wangxian fic #mdzs #lan xichen/jin guangyao #lan zhan #wei wuxian/lan wangji #wei wuxian #jin ling #lan sizhui #mxtx novels

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ink-on-the-brink · 3 years

Note

Okay yes sorry for like putting in another but my goodness you’re great!! I hope it’s okay if I ask another but like, what would happen if the guys of your choice saw their partner hurt? Platonic or romantic up to you (:

No problem at all! Ideas are always welcome. Especially since I've had a bit of time on my hands! (aka I'm procrastinating on my other stories but shh)

Anyway! Here's Engie, Scout, and Soldier when their S/O is hurt because I put names onto a wheel and they popped up so yeah.

These are gonna be general headcannons that can be taken as either romatic or platonic.

Engie

If Hurt By Your Own Stupidity

Chances are you were messing around with a machine he told you not to touch.

If it's a small injury he'll scold you, telling you to listen to him next time. He won't help you. You have to learn your lesson somehow and if that means you have to drag your way to Medic, embarrassing yourself in the process, then so be it.

If it's a rather big injury he'll be rightfully angry. He's picking you up and carrying you to Medic with a string of mumbled curses at how stupid you had been and that you're lucky he was watching otherwise you might be dead. Even though he's angry you can still see the very clear concern on his face. Once you're all fixed up he's not letting you into his workshop for a while and becomes rather paranoid every time you have to.

He just doesn't want to see you hurt over a machine he built. He would probably never forgive himself if that's the way you ended up dying.

If Hurt By Something Else

Probably while helping him. Grabbing tools, maybe fixing up some wires if you're experienced enough.

Small injuries happen all the time. I mean you're messing around with electric wires and sharp objects here, it isn't exactly the safest thing. He always has an extra medkit in the room and won't hesitate to help you with a small cut or electric burn.

Larger injuries are an entirely different story. He goes blank, immediately carrying you to Medic. He won't leave until he knows you're 100% fine and afterward he'll be deathly quiet. You can see rather clearly that he blamed himself for you getting hurt and that he wasn't about to just forgive himself for it. Afterward he has a hard time letting you help again and finds excuses for you to do something else.

It might just be better if you stick to smaller ways of helping, not just for your own sake, but his.

If Hurt In Battle

If he sees it happen he knows it's better to ignore it. That's what happens in battle and at least during battle you guys have respawn. He'll most likely move his dispenser to where you are to help you out as best he can. He likely won't think twice about what happened...

That is unless whoever hurt you did so in a rather cruel way, enjoying seeing you in pain rather than working to complete an objective.

If that happens the person who harmed you becomes his main target. He won't compromise the battle with the urgency to kill them but it's pretty obvious that given the choice between them and killing anyone else, he'll choose them.

If he were to get close enough, and no one else is around, he'd hurt them and then just kinda sit there, letting them be in pain a moment while he maybe sets up one of his machines. If caught doing this he has about a hundred likely excuses. It was a Spy and he didn't want to deal with his dead ringer, he thought they were dead, another person came along that he had to deal with, pretty much never getting caught for doing it. Basically one of the only things that keeps him calm when he sees you hurt is the thought that he's going to make them suffer later.

Engie's a calm man but that doesn't mean he doesn't know how to dish out revenge or hold grudges.

If Hurt By Someone On The Team

Ooooh boy, this isn't going to end well.

It was most likely not meant to be you who got hurt. Being Engies right hand(or left hand rather)meant you always helped him to de-escalate fights. Which meant you were probably only hurt in the crossfire.

That, however, does not stop the anger flowing through Engies veins.

A small thing is enough to get him angry. He rarely yells but in that case he will, silencing everyone immediately before going on an absolute tirade about how stupid they were all being. At this point people would be shocked enough to stop, meaning the goal was achieved but not without some sacrifice.

If you get really harmed though...

Engie's a calm man but he has limits. That just so happens to be one of them. He won't even stop the fight. He's immediately taking you to get fixed up. It's afterward that the consequences come.

He will talk to whoever was involved alone. No one's sure what happens but no matter who ends up seeing that side of Engie they always come out a bit shaken up and not willing to talk about it, though seemingly unharmed.

It's likely to never happen but if it does everyone will become just a little bit more cautious when around him or you.

Scout

If Hurt By Your Own Stupidity

You were trying to toss a baseball as high as you could into the air and catch it to try and impress him.

If it only managed to hit just a little bit of sense into you, aka your throw is weak, then he'll most definitely laugh, telling you to leave it up to the professionals.

If you managed to knock yourself out because your toss was godly but your catch was dogshit then he'd burst out laughing for a good five minutes. It's only after his laughing fit that he thought to help you. You'd have to give him a matching bump to keep his mouth shut about it.

If Hurt By Something Else

You two were probably setting up a prank and something went wrong along the way.

If only a little hurt he'd hold in a laugh and ask if you were alright, to which you'd glare at his hidden grin and say you were fine.

If you were actually hurt he'd go into a bit of a panic, quickly bringing you to Medic. The two of you most defiantly had to lie to get away with what you two had been doing. Unfortunately you were both really bad liars. Medic wasn't convinced but he also didn't care, thankfully.

You'd often bring up how scared he looked when you got hurt every time he tried to act like he didn't care about you that much. It never failed to get his tongue stumbling.

If Hurt In Battle

He's not one to care about a few bumps and scratches. He'll likely tell you to try to be as tough as him(he saids as he calls for medic over a splinter). He sees his job more as a game then a battle so it's rare he holds a grudge against anyone. He's maybe a bit more competitive from that point foward but not obsessively so.

Larger injuries and he's quick (litteraly) to dive into the heat of battle to help. More than often he ends up dead beside you but when he does manage to save you he's super macho about it. He'll say stuff about how much you needed him and how you'd never survive a day without him Even though most of the times you're the one pulling him out of those situations...

Just let him have his moment.

If Hurt By Someone On The Team

It was most definitely because you had annoyed someone, most likely Soldier or Heavy. This happens quite often.

If it looks like you're winning the fight he'll cheer you on. No need for him to get involved if you've got it handled.

If something really starts to go down though, he's on your side. There isn't a time where only one of you was beaten to shit, it always had to be the both of you.

Soldier

If Hurt By Your Own Stupidity

You were trying to rocket jump.

Literally just...Why did you think you could do that?

A small injury and Soldier won't even acknowledge it. Be that a bloody nose or a sprained ankle he's going to act as if you were perfectly fine, mostly because he seldom felt pain anymore and he had a hard time trying to recognize it in other people.

If severely hurt he's most likely going to explain to you everything you did wrong and you'll have to either scream for Medic or wait until he carries you there after his lecture.

You do dumb shit you deal with the consequences.

If Hurt By Something Else

Likely a sparring match that got out of hand or possibly a malfunction of a rather precariosly built weapon.

A small injury and he isn't going to care. If you make a big deal out of it he'll tell you to 'man up' and deal with it though it's more so in good fun rather than antagonism.

A large injury though and he's quick to help. He's calling for Medic and asking you to count how many fingers he's holding up. You'll say three, he'll begin to panic, saying that you must have broken your eyes.

He was, in fact, holding up three fingers...

Just don't question it

If Hurt In Battle

Small injuries are victories to him. If you're not at least a little banged up then are you really in a war?

If you for some reason can't walk though he's the first person at your side. Doesn't matter how many bullets he takes as long as you're brought to safety. He'll say something to the effect of 'don't die on me soldier! No, I am not talking to myself!'

After you're taken care of it's revenge time. He's gonna rack up a killing streak, your injury giving him the last bit of encouragement to win the round most of the time.

If Hurt By Someone On The Team

Defending honor! Whether it's yours or his, you are there to defend it and if that means getting a bit rough in the process then so be it.

If you're less injured than whoever you're fighting then, like Scout, He's cheering you on with probably a few insults to the other person as well.

If it looks more like you're losing he's still not going to intervene. He believes in you! You've got this!

If you end up knocked out though he's going to beat the shit out of whoever it was that defeated you. For your honor! (And because he just likes a reason to beat people up)

#tf2 #reader x tf2 #tf2 x reader #engie #soldier #scout #tf2 engie #tf2 scout #tf2 soldier

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barbarianprncess · 3 years

Text

of these rushing waves

(you’ll be the oxygen i breathe)

A week after the Titan War, Annabeth is drafting a temple to Hestia when the weight of being the only person in the world that knows Percy's weak spot hits her.

Like. Really hits her.

(or 2k words of annabeth discovering what she means to percy)

(the biggest of shout outs to @timelesslords for helping me make this coherent, and to @colorguardfreak97 for encouraging me every step of the way. enjoy <3)

read on ao3

A week after the Titan War, Annabeth is drafting a temple to Hestia when the weight of being the only person in the world that knows Percy's weak spot hits her.

Like. Really hits her.

And after about a day and a half freaking out about what it means and what she should do about it, she decides to go talk to him.

(Because not talking to him about what was bothering her led to the worst year of her life. Progress.)

They’re sitting on the beach, sharing Percy’s too small blanket- they both know he has bigger ones, but it’s an excuse to be almost on top of each other. She’s curled up resting on his chest, and he has one hand secured on her waist tracing patterns on her thigh, the other tangled in her curls. They watch the sunset and Annabeth is almost perfectly content.

Almost.

“How did you know?” The words tumble out of her without context.

He shifts to face her and raises an eyebrow. Annabeth finds it unfairly attractive.

“Know what?”

“When you told me your weak spot. How’d you know I could handle it?” The unspoken ‘because I don’t think I can handle it ’ must be apparent enough because Percy’s expression softens.

“Have you been worrying about this?”

Annabeth’s first impulse is to brush it off and change the subject. But then she hears Silena’s voice in her head: tell him how you feel. So she ducks her chin and forces the words out.

“Well yeah, I mean it kinda freaks me out that I just have this power over you. I don’t trust myself.”

Percy tilts her chin with featherlight fingers and an unadulterated fondness her seven year old self would kill to be on the receiving end of.

“I trust you enough for the both of us,” he said.

“How are you so sure about this?” ‘How are you so sure about me?’

He gives her a ‘duh’ look that she’s so used to giving him, it's a bit shocking to be on the opposite end of it. She decides immediately she doesn’t like it.

“You know why.”

“No, I don’t, hence me asking you why.”

She's watched Percy's face morph to pure amusement. He chuckles, and hesitates. “Well, because...”

He trails off clearly thinking about how to word his answer. As he thinks it over she allows herself to look at him properly.

He’s beautiful. Sharp jawline, defined cheekbones, devastatingly symmetrical features. His eyes are deep and content, looking out at the sea as if it has the answer he’s looking for. He can’t seem to find what he wants amongst the waves, but his eyes meet hers and the words seem to come to him.

“It’s you, Annabeth.”

He says it like it answers not only her question but thousands of others. It does neither.

“What’s me, Annabeth?” She attempts at light-hearted sarcasm despite her impatience.

He looks at her with a glint of mischief in his eyes and she knows that look. She hates that look. That look means she’s not getting an answer anytime soon.

“Oh my gods, you really don't know?”

She glares daggers.

He smiles winningly. “Oh, this is going to be fun.” She bites at his shoulder in retaliation.

“You’re the smartest person I know-” Percy starts.

“True, but flattery will get you nowhere-” Annabeth cut him off.

“So figure-’ He presses a kiss to her temple.

“It-’ A kiss to her left cheek.

“Out.”

She opens her mouth to argue, but he kisses her before she can get out the words. And His knuckles are gentle under her chin, and he smells like ocean breeze, and his lips are chapped yet achingly soft, and he tastes like home. Annabeth resigns herself to find out what he means later, and allows herself to get lost in him and saltwater and home.

...

She digs up every legend about the curse of Achilles she can find. She scours Daedales’s laptop until it runs out of battery. She didn’t even know that was possible.

She researches.

And researches.

And nothing.

She has no idea what he means. Annabeth famously hates not knowing.

And. Percy. Won’t. Budge.

She has tried every trick in the book. She tried baking blue cookies (she burned them), refusing to kiss him till he tells (she caves), and asking Grover to get it out of him (something about the bro-code).

Everytime she asks him he just looks at her with his dopey, baby-seal love eyes and says those same two words.

“It’s you.”

She hates him.

...

It’s three more days before she figures it out.

Nico is looking at her skeptically. His all black get-up makes it so he almost blends in with shadows of the Big House’s basement.

“You need my help?” He deadpans, leaning against the wall looking almost bored.

“Sort-of,” Annabeth shifts on her feet, “So, I know you were the one who took Percy to the River Styx, right?”

“Yeah?”

“Well he’s explained to me bits and pieces about how the curse works, and told me where his… you know… spot is.”

“Ok.”

“So my question is-” Annabeth stopped short. “Wait doesn’t that surprise you at all?”

He shrugs noncommittally, “Not really, no. You were saying?”

Annabeth clears her throat and soldiers on.

“Uh yeah. Right, well it sorta freaked me out how readily he told me about it and I asked how he knew I could handle it and he just said ‘it’s me’. And he refuses to elaborate, and it’s kind of killing me so, do you know what that means? And if you do, could you please explain?”

She’s been staring at her shoes while she rambles on and when she looks up she sees…

Is that humor in his eyes?

“So, I'm guessing you've done your research on the curse?” She nods. “So you know that when Achilles mother dipped him in the Styx, she held him up by his ankle, which then became his mortal point.”

“Like a sort of anchor.”

“Exactly. Now what the legends don’t mention is that the mortal point wasn’t just the ankle. When his mother pulled him out she became part of his mortal point. Still with me?”

“Not really.”

“Perfect. Going in on your own is no different. You still need someone to help you out of the river, just not physically. You need to picture someone pulling you out, someone to motivate you, someone to bring you back to earth.”

He looks up at her, silently asking permission to continue. Annabeth nods with urgence.

“It's not just someone who can keep you mortal, but the one person that makes you want to stay mortal. That person and your weak spot become intertwined.” He looks up at her and must still see traces of confusion.

“Your mortal point isn’t just the point of your body that’s unaffected by the River Styx, It’s the person in your life that you saw that gave you the strength to survive the Styx at all.”

Oh.

“So when he says ‘it’s...He literally means…” She trails off and looks up at Nico. His smirk is patronizing, but she can’t bring herself to care.

“It’s you.”

…

She vaguely recalls thanking Nico for his help, but how she ended up in her bunk staring at the wall is a mystery. Annabeth has never truly understood the word dumbfounded until now.

...

It’s her.

...

By the time she comes to, it's dark out. Annabeth is already grabbing her invisibility cap and pulling on her shoes. She should probably change out of her pajamas, but her urgency to get to Percy outweighs the little vanity she has left in her. Percy has seen her in far worse conditions than messy hair and sleep wear.

Normally she would climb in through his window, but tonight is strictly business. Percy is still up waiting for her like he has been every night since the war ended. His face brightens when his eyes land on her face then immediately scrunch in concern when he sees what must be a manic look in her eye.

“You ok?”

“It’s me.” A whisper- she says it like she can't fully comprehend the words.

“It’s me?” A question- not necessarily for him just unsure.

“It’s me!” An accusation- this time it’s directed at Percy, who smiles with unnecessary pride.

He tugs at her hand and pulls her to sit on the bunk.“You figured it out.”

She’s briefly tempted to explain the whole visit with Nico, but she has other things on her mind.

“That’s how I knew on the bridge. That feeling that you were in danger, even though you hadn’t told me where the spot was, I knew.”

He shrugs, “It would make sense, but to be honest, I actually have no idea.”

She entwines their fingers and he lifts her hand up to press kisses to her knuckles.

“You saved me.” Percy says it soft and reverent, like a prayer.

“On the bridge?”

“No. Well yeah you saved me on the bridge, but I’m talking about the Styx. It was the worst pain I’ve ever felt. I was burning alive. It was like I was back at Mt. St. Helen’s all over again.”

She feels a swift wave of guilt that she quickly pushes down so she can pay attention to the rest of his words.

“Except instead of the lava being thrown at me, I was dunked in it. And it was ten times hotter. I was drowning.” He laughs mirthlessly, and she squeezes his hand. “I was in so much pain I couldn't remember who I was.”

She knocks her forehead against his, partly to bring him back to reality, partly to remind herself that he did in fact survive to tell her this story.

He looks up at her, green eyes wide with a wonder and reverence she doesn’t believe she deserves.

“Then I heard you. Your voice. I heard your voice and I saw your face and you held out your hand. You didn’t just pull me back. You put me back together. The thought of you put me back together. I took your hand and I survived because of you. You saved me Annabeth.”

Annabeth is stunned into silence.

She has no doubt in her mind that if it were her in the Styx, she would've seen Percy and he would’ve saved her in the same way she saved him. But, it's different hearing it from him. It’s a rare feeling to know that this full-bodied, utter devotion (the kind she feels for him), is mutual. To hear it spoken out loud is almost unheard of.

She doesn’t have the words to articulate the supernova of emotions exploding her chest, so she kisses him. She kisses him with everything she has. Percy kisses her back with the same intensity. Percy’s kisses are safety and contentment and light. He’s so good with words (better with them than she is), and she thinks it translated into the way he kissed. He kisses her like he’s trying to say something--typically some shy declaration of the love that they both know is between them but tiptoe around speaking into existence.

He kisses with his whole body. He clutches at her waist like he couldn’t bear to let go, and she arches her back because she doesn't think she could bear it either. He occupies all five of her senses, the only thing she knows is him. Her hands are buried in his hair. He’s the sun, and kissing him is sunshine personified.

When she finally pulls back, he removes one of the hands gripping at her waist to slip into the junction between her collarbone and her jaw to keep their foreheads together. He keeps pulling her in his orbit, freckles like constellations, breaths mingled like they could survive on kisses and shared oxygen alone.

She thinks she’d like that.

Percy ends up curled on top of her, his head resting in the crook of her neck. One of her hands in his hair, the other on the small of his back like she can protect him with force of will alone. They fall asleep the way they survive- anchored to each other.

...

#my first fic yall so pls be nice to me lol #rbs are appreciated!#ask box is open for prompts #percabeth #percabeth fic #missing scene #annabeth chase #percy jackson #the last olympian #nico di angelo #percy jackon and the olympians #grover underwood #my writing #omg i can use that tag now #fic rec

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thefanficmonster · 4 years

Text

Lucky Me (Sequel To Unlucky)

Corpse Husband x Reader (Female)

Warnings: Swearing

Genre: Fluff

Summary: You aren’t always born with luck. Sometimes, you meet people who bring it to you. In short, they are your lucky charm.

Requested: Yes, but not in a typical way. A big thank you to all the wonderful people who read, liked, reblogged and commented on part one - Unlucky.

@susceptible-but-siriusexual @simonsbluee @save-the-sky @hacker-ghost @itsminniekat @bi-andready-tocry @imtiredaffff @jazzkaurtheglorious @hereforbeebo @fandomgirl17 and many more ❤❤❤

They are the reason this story is being written. What was originally supposed to be an elaborate one-shot turned into the most liked piece I’ve ever written. I can’t thank you enough, guys. You are amazing and I hope you like this one just as much or even more than the previous. Love you ❤❤❤

Y/N’s POV

I’m grinning at my reflection in the mirror as I put on a pair of earrings. My face is already touched-up with a little make-up and my hair is looking on point. I can almost see my own reflection in the shine of excitement in my eyes. I take in my upper body via a quick once-over in the full body mirror opposite me, and I finally relax my muscles that I didn’t ever realize I was tensing.

“OK, now I’m ready.“ I say as a form of encouragement as I reach behind me for my phone that’s sitting on my bed.

You might be wondering where I’m going? Who I’m going with? What’s the occasion behind this many preparations and pampering?

The answer: Nowhere. No one. Nothing. I’m literally not even going to leave my house.

It might seem ridiculous to someone else, but to me, to my hypnotized mind, it’s perfectly reasonable to be getting so amped up over a FaceTime call. Yeah, you heard me correctly - a FaceTime call.

Well, you see, this isn’t the first time we FaceTime, but it will be the first time we’ll see each other’s faces. I wanted to level the field so I didn’t let him on to what I look like, where exactly I live, etc. Basically, he only knows my name, which I am still prepared to call unfair, considering I don’t know his real name.

A brief backstory to my first ever real interaction with Corpse: I was introduced to him by my friends. They are the ones I always turned to with all the scary shit happening in my life. Often times they didn’t know weather to comfort me or laugh at my curse. My friends suggested I start sharing it to a youtuber named Corpse Husband. You see, I love YouTube narrators and I’ve always been a fan of Mr. Nightmare and I, to be perfectly honest, always kept the idea of sending him my stories in the back of my mind. Nevertheless, I bit the bullet and checked out on of this Corpse Husband guy’s videos. And then another. And another. And before I knew it I was having a marathon after which I was too paranoid to get online, walk home alone at night, leave my curtains open etc. It wasn’t all thanks to the stories themselves. A lot of the fear factor these stories strike with should be credited to the way they are read. Let me tell you, this guy had it all figured out with the reading. Not sending him my stories would just be wrong. So I did, I sent him my first ever creepy encounter which was with a stalker from my high school and it took me only two days to forget about it. It only crossed my mind when my friends blew my phone up, demanding I watched Corpse’s new video. I kid you not, I got more scared by the story when he read it than when I lived it. That’s what settled it for me - I decided to send him each and every story.

And then one day, out of the blue, my life changed for the better in more ways than one. It got turned completely upside down, like a rollercoaster, and I just had to hold on and enjoy the ride, embrace the adrenaline rush and excitement, knowing full well that I chose to get on and there’s no way I can get off halfway through.

I’m being too metaphorical. He sent me an email. He freaking reached out to me. And I was posed with a rough choice. Took me a minute, but I chose to reply to him, I chose to trust him, and I couldn’t just leave him on read one day simply cause I chickened out. Yes, I’m unlucky and these things don’t happen to unlucky people. I mean, they do, but they are nightmares disguised as a dream come true. I’ve lived all my life cautiously: if something sounds too good to be true it’s either not as good as marketed or not true at all. If it’s dark and late and there are no people around, FaceTime someone. If your Uber driver’s sketchy, cancel the ride. I take all the precautions and I still find myself in the worst situations. Or at least...

My thoughts are interrupted by the ringing of my phone. A simple ringtone I hear every time he calls me. A simple sound that causes me butterflies when I hear it and ultimate devastation if the caller ID doesn’t read the name I want. It always gets me excited, probably more than it should. This time is different, however. It’s scary almost. I’m nervous, anxious, scared, hesitant - all things I never feel when I’m about to answer his call.

With shaky hands I pick up the call and find myself looking at the most beautiful person I’ve ever met. Now I know why I would have never initiated this meeting, because I know what color my face is right now. I know my voice has let me down before I even attempt to speak. I know I look like a mess. I know my obvious crush is showing.

Corpse initiated this meeting. He said he was getting too curious and he wanted one of his best friends to see him and for him to finally see her. It’s been about seven months since we first started texting and I haven’t let out a single peep about it to a single soul. It’s just between him and I. We are each other’s safe space away from the rest of the world.

“Thought you weren’t gonna pick up for a second there.“ His voice is not as confident as other times when we’ve talked. His trying to hide his own nervousness and all I wanna do is hug him and tell him he doesn’t have to. I kept telling him over and over again that we don’t have to do this if he’s not sure that he actually wants it. I even offered to show him what I look like, not expecting to see him in return but he declined, saying it was now his turn to even the field.

“I was in another room.“ I manage to say, my voice only shaking a little.

We spend a few moments just looking at each other. Admiring one another. For someone who prefers digital interaction, I am surprised to realize I wish he was actually standing in front of. I wish I could hug him. A long hug of comfort, mutual understanding and hidden feelings.

He lets out a short laugh, shaking his head which causes a few strands of hair to fall over his eyepatch, “I’m sorry...It’s just-...Fuck I’m stumbling.” He chuckles nervously, “I just...can’t believe you are real. You are a real person. And the most beautiful person I’ve seen. That’s corny, isn’t it.” He looks away from the screen, his face now a shade of red. “But I mean it. I’m embracing my corniness. You are beautiful, Y/N. Not that I’m flexing or anything, but I’m lucky to have met you.”

I laugh, feeling my eyes stinging from the tears that have suddenly formed. I don’t want to let them fall, but I don’t have much say in that. “Well, mister Corpse, I can’t begin to compare. I mean...that hair! I still cannot believe it’s you. You are not just a deep voice in my mind. You are....you are...”

“Everything you imagined and more?“ he jokes, making my whole body heat up. “I told you you could trust. I mean, if the hair doesn’t confirm I’m who I say I am, I don’t know what will.”

“Actually, I never tried to imagine what you looked like. I knew those visions...I knew they didn’t matter. Faces don’t matter to us, Corpse. I think you realize that.“

And just like that, all I’ve been keeping hidden is pouring out. I don’t try to stop it - you can’t stop a hurricane with bare hands.

“I never needed a face to imagine us. I always saw as talking on the phone, playing Among Us. Reading scary stories to each other on Discord. I never needed a face to imagine your company. To imagine what we could be...“ I trail off, letting the first tear slip down my cheek.

The most sincere look appears in his eyes, “Fuck, I wish I could hold your hand right now. Never mind, I wish I could hug you, Y/N. Hug you and not let go for a long time.”

I laugh halfheartedly, my chest burning from the intensity of this moment’s intimacy, “I can always tell you where I live.” I’m only half-joking. I really want to see him in real life, not just through a screen, but even this call is out of his comfort zone, let alone a physical meet up.

He surprises me yet again, “Saturday. I’ll bring the take out, you pick the movie.” he says with a smile that is literally saying ‘you didn’t see that coming, did you?’

“How are you sure I don’t live in a different state, or a different continent all together?“ I tease, making an attempt to put my composure back together.

He smirks, “I pay way more attention to your stories than you’d think.” I laugh, shaking my head as a pointless method of fighting the pesky tears that he has 100% noticed by this point. “By the way, just because we’re....” he thinks for a second, “in a weird zone between friendship and...something more, doesn’t mean you have to stop sending me stories. I absolutely love reading them for my audience. They love em too.”

I just realized I am yet to tell him the crazy miracle that has happened. “Well, the thing is...I don’t have any.” His eyebrows shoot up in shock which makes me laugh, “Yeah, I know, it’s crazy. Since the day we started talking I have not experienced a single scary thing. Deadass. I swear on my life.”

If I wasn’t so head over heels for this man already, the baffled expression on his face would definitely send me falling for him. He’s just that adorable. “Wow.”

“I know right.“ I nod, “Seems to me you have enough luck to share with me.“

His eyes light up at that comment, showing just how meaning full it is to him.

“You’re my lucky charm, Corpse.“

“I will never be more proud of any other title, Y/N. That I can promise you with no hesitation.“

“Deadass?“

“Deadass.“

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