#it-happened-on-fic

[it-happened-one-fic]

An Odd Sort of Family - Xiao

Author Notes: It's my birthday so I decided to post something super self-indulgent. So behold, a found family fic with Xiao and Qiqi. I didn't actually use a specific song or anything while writing this fic. It was purely just me writing something that I felt like writing. As per usual, reader is gender-neutral. I hope you enjoy.

Type: Fluff/ found family/ featuring Miss Qiqi/ romantic feelings implied towards reader from Xiao/ gender neutral reader

Word Count: 1131

Xiao stood atop a rock, watching silently as you knelt next to Qiqi. Talking quietly as the two of you collected herbs. 

It was a common sight. The two of you working together as peacefully as could be despite the dangers that Xiao knew abounded throughout Liyue.

You always made time to assist the little girl in collecting herbs after running across her in various perilous situations, and Xiao always stood watch. Ready to go off and fight for Liyue’s safety or to guard the two of you.

He scanned the area, looking for anything amiss, as he kept up his eternally vigilant watch over Liyue even in this peaceful moment.

The only thing that managed to distract him was when you straightened. Nodding with a smile down at the little girl next to you before trotting off in the direction she’d pointed. And Xiao watched you; his stance relaxed as he watched your form disappear just behind yet another rocky outcropping.

You always managed to distract him, though. It was something of a talent that you had, even if you didn’t know it.

Normally, Xiao was constantly aware of his surroundings, but when you were around, a tiny bit of his attention was consistently devoted to you. And Xiao had a sneaking suspicion that he knew why that was.

“Xiao,” The yaksha glanced down at the tiny and eternally stoic little girl, who now gazed up at him with an unreadable expression from where she’d approached.

It was surprising that Qiqi had remembered his name, but she seemed to be recalling both you and him better the more time you both spent with her. Though, to be fair, Xiao was almost positive your name had been added to her journal of things she wanted to remember.

And he couldn’t blame Qiqi. He wouldn’t ever want to forget you either, and at this point, he doubted such a thing would ever be possible. Even as time wore on for however many years he remained, he didn’t think he would ever forget you.

Xiao didn’t have to respond for Qiqi to continue in her usual monotone seriousness, “I don't want Y/n to get hurt. We need to protect them.”

Her bluntness was not surprising, but Xiao was at a loss for words as he stared down at her. It was true that he came along to guard you, but he didn’t entirely know how to respond to Qiqi’s words. They were unexpected, after all. 

You had started accompanying Qiqi to protect her, and now the little girl wanted to protect you. It was almost an ironic situation.

But after a brief moment, Xiao nodded. Matching the little girl’s seriousness as he agreed. Because you did deserve to be protected.

It was an unspoken understanding that the three of you had, even if none of you actually realized it. Qiqi and Xiao both protected you from any lurking damage because they didn’t want to see you get hurt. You were a home of sorts to both of them when each had, in their own way, believed that no home would ever truly want them.

You and Xiao gave Qiqi the love and care she needed. Warming her life without smothering her. Because even if she was a zombie, she was also just a child who needed love, even if she didn’t realize it. And while Baizhu did adore her, he could only do so much for the little girl.

And finally, you and Qiqi ensured that Xiao was no longer alone. And that was why he would also accompany you. He wanted to be with you, no matter where that place might be.

Without even entirely intending it, the three of you had become a family of sorts that cared for one another by providing the things that each of you needed and deserved.

In truth, Qiqi didn’t even have to ask for Xiao to protect you. Xiao would protect both you and Qiqi without any requests or thanks. In part, it was because it was his duty as a guardian Yaksha, but in part, it was because you were both important to him.

Xiao had experienced losing family before, and his relationship with them had been different. The other Yaksha had been like siblings, but you…. You were different. Losing you would be painful, just as losing them had been, but in an entirely new way. And you were far more fragile than any of the other Yaksha had ever been.

And with Qiqi, in many ways, he felt like he’d already failed her once. It was true that she had died in an accident during the archon war, and though it might not have been Xiao directly who caused the accident, it was also true that if he’d been better at his job, then it might have never happened.

It was possible that the guilt he felt towards her death was simply the condensing of the guilt he felt towards everyone who had been lost during the war. But it was also possible that he looked at her and saw a fragility, unlike yours, but also one that had not been possessed by the family he had once had.

Though you, Qiqi, and Xiao were an odd sort of family, that family was still precious to the Yaksha and something that he would dearly protect.

“Xiao?” Your call sounded clearly, without a hint of fear. In fact, it sounded more like you were just simply calling out to him. 

Almost like you somehow knew the somber path his thoughts had taken.

But even though there was no urgency to your tone, there was also no hesitation to Xiao’s actions as he appeared by your side. Reaching out and steadying you as you balanced on the rocky, slightly treacherous ground.

You smiled at him as soon as his hand grasped your arm, as if there were nothing odd about the sometimes awkward care he always showed you or the way he always had time for you.

“I found a good spot for us to have lunch and made sure to pack some almond tofu earlier today… Would you like to join us?” You smiled peacefully, and Xiao exhaled in amusement. Only you would be quite so carefree about making such a request. But Xiao only nodded, smiling slightly to himself as your own smile grew.

He watched silently as you called out to Qiqi, beckoning the little girl over to eat as you settled down and started unpacking the food. And as Xiao glanced around, surveying the area once more before allowing himself to fully relax into the peaceful atmosphere you’d created, he knew for a fact that he would always protect both you and Qiqi. 

Because you were precious to him.

[lazylittledragon]

if i had a nickel for every au spawned from twitter that i SWORE i was going to be normal about

[flowercrowngods]

when ao3 is back up i want all of you to leave comments on the fics you were interrupted from reading, the fics you were looking to find, the fics you were thinking about re-reading, and the fics left open in your tabs for months now.

when ao3 is back up, i want you all to show some love to your favourite writers, favourite fics, or even just the 600 word one-shot that brought a smile to your face that tuesday three weeks ago.

when ao3 is back up i want you all to remember that comments and explicitly voiced appreciation are what keep writers going.

[iamanartichoke]

I don't know who needs to hear this, but as a creator -

I am fine with "the audience" -

downloading my fics

printing my fics

copy/pasting or screenshotting my fics

sharing your saved copy of my fics with anyone else who might want them in the unlikely but never impossible case that my fics are no longer available on ao3

making a book of my fic(s) and running your fingers across the pages while lovingly whispering my precioussss

doing these things with anything I create for fandom, such as meta, headcanons, au nonsense like 'texts from the brodinsons,' etc

I am not fine with "the audience"

doing any of the above with the purpose/intent of plagiarizing my work or passing it off as their own in any capacity

feeding my work into ai for any reason whatsoever

Save the fandom things. Preserve the fandom things. Respect the fandom things.

Enjoy the fandom things.

[magnusbae]

To illustrate this post by @mayahawkse I would like to visualize to you the difference:

A post in 2023:

A post in 2014:

A zoom out of the same post:

This is what a community looks like.

See how in 2023 almost all of the reblogs come from the OP, from their few hours/days in the tag search. Meanwhile in 2014 the % of reblogs from OP is insignificant, because most of the reblogs come from the reblogs within the fandom, within the micro-communities formed there. You didn't need to rely on tags, or search, or being featured. Because the community took care of you, made sure to pass the work between themselves and onto their blog and exposed their followers to it. It kept works alive for years.

It's not JUST the reblog/like ratio that causing this issue, it's the type of interaction people have. They're content with scrolling and liking the search engine, instead of actually having a reblogging relationship with other blogs in their community.

Anyways, if you want to see more content you like, the only true way to make it happen is to reblog it. Likes do not forward content in no way but making OP feel nice. Reblogs on the other hand make content eternal. They make it relevant, they make it exist outside of a fickle tumblr search that hardly works on the best of days.

If you want more of something, reblog it.

[reineydraws]

three is a pattern, shanks!

[frownyalfred]

Batfamily/Superfamily angst fic where one of the Supes (Jon? Kon?) takes off too quickly/recklessly next to one of the Batkids and accidentally ruptures their eardrum and Bruce goes on the warpath for Clark about it.

[ghostbsuter]

"Date? Me?'

Tim nods, milkshake in hand, sitting outside of McDonald's with his study buddy, Danny.

The other teen looked flabbergasted with a firm blush building up.

Tim found him utterly adorable.

"I can't date anyone? I'm property of.the goverment."

Tim Drake-Wayne, aka Red Robin, has various questions to that statement.

[camembri]

you wanted zoro to be on whole cake island to fulfil your weird desire to see zoro punish sanji. I wanted zoro on whole cake island because I think he's stupid enough to right place wrong time the plan and accidentally marry Sanji in full view of the whole wedding party in what becomes the most elaborately constructed comedy of errors ever written. we are NOT the same.

[it-happened-one-fic]

Dancing With Visions - Beyond Relieving - Ballroom Samba - Kaveh

Author Notes: I had a fair bit of fun writing this one, though I admit it was difficult researching the ballroom samba and writing Kaveh for the first time was an adventure. I think Kaveh would be fun to dance with though, and he'd definitely strikes me as someone who be willing to learn to dance. I also wanted to be sure to mention that, despite how slender his in-game model is, I feel like he has to be strong since he's a claymore user. The performance in this fic was inspired by Kathryne and Ryan’s Samba to “Magalenha” by Sergio Mendes on season 6 of “So You Think You Can Dance with some samba rolls thrown in for funsies. Just like the rest of this series, reader is female. I hope you enjoy!

If you would like to read more of this series, the fics can be found here: Dancing with Visions Masterlist.

Type: Female reader/ dance/ fluff/ platonic or romantic/ sfw

Word Count: 1809

Honestly, I knew from the instant that Kaveh had told me that he and Alhaitham were having a competition in which they had to dance whatever style was chosen by the other one that my friend would probably regret it. The fact that we were fixing to perform the samba only proved my suspicions. 

In truth, it wasn’t that I didn’t think Kaveh would do poorly. In fact, I actually had quite a bit of faith in Kaveh even when we’d just started practicing. After all, Kaveh was someone who was open to new experiences and would definitely give this his best shot.

It was just that I genuinely feared what Alhaitham might whip out for his performance.

I glanced over at Kaveh, my hand locked in his, as we made our way onto the darkened platform that was Nilou’s stage. She’d agreed to let us use her stage for the guys competition for the cheap price of getting to watch the dances.

“Do you think you’ll win?” I questioned my partner quietly, a slight smile on my face to hide my nerves as he nodded. A determined expression on his face.

“Yeah. Alhaitham might be a genius when it comes to a lot, but he is no artist.” Kaveh smiled briefly, looking over my way with a confidence he usually didn’t possess as he straightened, “I’ve got the upper hand this time.”

I nodded, half proud of my partner, simply because I knew the amount of effort that had gone into this. After all, I’d been practicing alongside him this whole time.

And Kaveh had definitely regretted letting Alhaitham choose our dance when the scribe had calmly informed him we would be doing the samba without even batting an eye.

Especially since both me and Kaveh knew perfectly well that this style was chosen solely in recompense for Kaveh picking out a style of swing dancing for Alhaitham. 

The samba was easily one of the more difficult Latin dance styles, simply due to the speed and intricate steps used within the dance. But, to be fair, Kaveh had also picked a difficult style for Alhaitham, so I could hardly blame the scribe for being a little mean in his choice of dance.

Save for the fact that his choice had meant that I also had to learn the samba since I’d already agreed to help Kaveh out. But then, I should’ve known that this was hardly going to be easy when it was Alhaitham and Kaveh who were competing with one another.

Kaveh smiled at me, squeezing my hand slightly as we came to a stop, almost like he knew that the nerves had already set in for me. And maybe he did, as he questioned me softly, “Ready?”

I nodded wordlessly, inhaling slightly, before I let go of his hand and shifted so that I was standing behind him, my hands resting lightly on his shoulders. 

I watched as he looked off to the side and bobbed his head, signaling for Cyno to start the music, which started almost immediately.

I stepped to the side, reaching out and finding Kaveh’s hand ready and waiting as I slid around him. Pivoting so that I was facing him as I leaned backwards, doing my best to do as Nilou had advised and pretend I was a cat, slinking around.

The opening of our dance was all careful motions, with Kaveh holding my hand and spinning me slowly before I stepped over his outstretched leg. My arm wrapped loosely around his neck before I stretched up one leg. Leaning against him for support as he grabbed my foot and used it to spin me around him. 

I slipped back to his side, looking towards him as I put my back to his chest and let him lift me.

I carefully slipped back around him. Practically laying against his back as I slid down him, and then between his legs before he stepped over me. Reaching down to take my hands and help me up just before we separated right as the beat hit.

It was one of pounding drums that had us quickly shaking our shoulders before I started sashaying to the side and away from him. 

I had to remind myself to not hold my breath as I pushed myself to match the heavy beat as I moved around on the stage, shifting around him in a careful dance of keep-away before his hands clasped mine right as I faced him. 

We rotated, our steps matching the beat perfectly, even as I started incorporating those little samba bounces that Nilou had grilled me on relentlessly until I’d perfected them.

Even when we’d just been practicing it, I’d felt like energetic was almost an understatement for describing this dance. But Kaveh somehow managed to smile at me as we shifted across the stage with quick but short steps filled with little bounces that involved lifting one leg in time to the beat before dropping it back down.

But perhaps what was worse than that was the shifting rhythm that we had to keep up with and match perfectly.

To top it all off, we spent most of our time apart, making it even harder to match each other. Only really coming together to do a few samba rolls, with my back pressed to his chest as one of his arms wrapped around my waist to hold me against him and his other hand grasped my wrist. Rotating with me as we leaned with the motions to create a rolling look.

I felt myself smiling through the dance even as we parted once more. And I could easily believe that this ballroom dance had indeed been inspired by a celebratory dance. 

There was something about the bouncing motions that made one smile even as they strained to keep up with the lively, ever-shifting rhythm.

It was a dance that suited the empathetic Kaveh well and was bound to put a smile on his face. And it was nice to see him smiling once more after he’d been through so much. I’d honestly begun to worry about him, so seeing him enjoy his time learning to dance with me over the past little bit had been beyond relieving.

And though I didn’t know what the reward of winning his little competition with Alhaitham might be, for me, seeing Kaveh smile was enough. And knowing Alhaitham, that was possibly why he’d chosen the samba for Kaveh. A dance he could enjoy, even if he lost.

I forced myself to focus as Kaveh turned, grinning from ear to ear, and held out his hands to me. Sending me running a little ways across the stage to where he was.

He grabbed my hands right as I put on the brakes, letting myself slide across the stage only for him to tug me lightly. Causing me to whip around so that I was looking towards the floor as he pulled me back upright.

And immediately he was guiding me around him so that he could spin me in front of him, direct me back around behind him, and then let me go.

But he didn’t stay far from me, as he matched my light, bouncy steps and followed along behind me.

I found myself looking over my shoulder with my arm extended, finding him there, ready and waiting as he took back hold of me and I danced backwards. Wrapping my arm around him as he spun so that we could turn together. Grinning all the while as we spiraled across the floor.

He let go of me with one arm, keeping a hold of my hand so that I could spin out and look towards those watching us.

 Nilou’s eyes were bright from her seat next to Tighnari, who bobbed quietly to the music, a slight smile on his face as he watched us. And Alhaitham sat next to his partner, his arms crossed as he watched us with an unreadable expression.

I twirled back in, Kaveh’s arms looping under mine as he lifted me and spun. I let my legs swing out freely in front of us before my feet touched back down, and I leaned back. Almost like I was trying to sit down before I leapt up, with Kaveh propelling me forward with an ever-careful toss that had me bounding to my feet. Only adding to the energy of the dance. 

He kept a hold of my hand all the while as we immediately launched into motion again, bouncing lightly on our toes and stepping from side to side.

It wasn’t long until we were coming to the end of our dance and facing each other with Kaveh rotating around me. Smiling at me as he made it back around behind me and I faced the crowd. Keeping up the steady footwork as the drums slowly started to fade.

Kaveh’s hands landed on my waist, and I braced, bending my knees before leaping, with him lifting at the same time as I jumped.

He let go and crouched right as I did a split mid-air, landing on his back with arms catching me in a piggyback position. Him leaned forward, and me with one arm wrapped around him Both of us panting as we were finally allowed to catch our breath at the end of our performance.

Nilou was the first on her feet, smiling at us widely and clapping with all her might as I started to laugh breathlessly. Half-surprised that we’d managed to successfully pull off our performance.

We’d succeeded numerous times during practice, but that had hardly been enough to quell my nerves when I’d known that doing the same motions in front of our friends would be far more difficult.

I heard Kaveh start laughing as well, leaning forward a slight bit more until he straightened, glancing at me over his shoulder as I carefully slid off his back.

It was almost laughable now to remember that I’d been worried about his ability to lift me and hold me up throughout the various motions of the dance. In reality, I should have known better since he fought with a claymore. 

Despite his slender frame, Kaveh was actually quite a bit stronger than one might initially think, as he’d proved to me as we’d been learning this dance.

He reached back behind him, his warm hand finding mine almost immediately, before he pulled me up alongside him so we could bow together.

As we straightened he looked over at me, his red eyes glistened like fine jewels as he beamed at me, “I think Alhaitham will have a tough time beating us, don’t you?”

I nodded, worn out from having danced but elated from both the experience and getting to see him smile so carefreely, “I think so.”

If you would like to read more:

Previous

Next

[chrrywvea]

logan purrs when he's asleep. he purrs like a content little cat when he's smushed into wade's side, his whole adamantium weight pressing into wade who doesn't really mind because ✨️who in their right mind says no to wolvie cuddles✨️ (wade uses him as a weighted blanket anyway, who needs air pffffft he doesn't)

but HOLY MARVEL JESUS he has a silent freak out the first time he discovers logan purring in his sleep during one of their movie binges. (they have weekly movie nights fight me)

a healthy (not) bout of cuteness aggression happens that night and even though wade is a little confused both by the fact that logan actually fell asleep on him and that HE IS PURRING OH MY GOD- he doesn't fight it and even naps with him (the best sleep both of them have ever had considering lots of nights are full with nightmares and insomnia)

and the thing is- wade very carefully talks to some of the surviving xmen in their universe about it and they just go 🤔🤨❓️ because not one of them has ever seen or heard logan do this (i'd imagine maybe kayla or mariko, scott even - logan told him about them, but hey wade can't really ask them can he) and then wade REALIZES and it hits him SO hard. logan is comfortable with him. he's at ease and relaxed enough in his presence to allow himself to slip into his slightly more animalistic traits without having to fear any judgement or rejection. he. is. comfortable. and wade maybe cries a little (a lot) at that realisation, holding logan even tighter when it happens again - the older man slumped against him during one of their movie nights, sleeping tight and soft purrs vibrating deep from his chest

[fictionfeast]

[greenglowinspooks]

Honestly I think the fics where Danny’s a Kryptonian have a lot of potential, so here’s me throwing my hat into the ring

Danny was born a human. He was born to two loving (though slightly neglectful) human parents in the painfully mundane state of Illinois.

Then, he died, but he didn’t do it right. He became a Halfa; too alive to be a ghost, but too dead to be human.

Then, through strange, uncontrollable circumstances, that changed as well.

He had been heavily injured, missing a large percentage of body mass, and was at the cusp of either dying fully or just fading from existence.

(Perhaps it was an ordinary fight. Perhaps it was the GiW, or his parents. Perhaps it was a simple accident. That didn’t matter now.)

He fled, phasing through the ground, trying to bury himself as deep as possible.

(Perhaps he didn’t want to be unmasked in death. Perhaps that was already too late, and he just wanted his body be able to rest in peace.)

Unfortunately for him, he was in Metropolis, and ended up in a secret genetics lab below the earth.

Danny detransformed, completely exhausted, falling onto a table covered in different labeled specimen containers. He closed his eyes, and prepared himself for what would happen next.

And… nothing.

Slowly, cautiously, he opened his eyes.

Danny sat up, brushing off the foul-smelling liquid from the specimen jars, petri dishes, and assorted vials.

He felt…fine.

No, better than fine. He felt normal. Healthy.

He felt like he wasn’t missing most of his internal organs anymore.

Danny looked down at his stomach, and saw that the wounds that were killing him had completely disappeared.

(The blood blossoms, if there had been any, were still there, but they no longer hurt. At most, they itched a little, or maybe just tickled a bit.)

He wanted to question what in the hell had just happened, but he didn’t want to jinx it. He just quietly changed back to Phantom, going invisible and phasing out of wherever he had found himself in, ignoring the loud alarm system that had begun to blare when he broke the samples on that table.

Life mostly went back to normal after that.

If, like Danny, you ignored all the physical changes in a valiant effort to remain in denial that something was horribly wrong.

His skin was tougher, now; he didn’t get scrapes or cuts, even when he accidentally fumbled a knife while trying to cook. His ghost form was stronger, too; he was barely knocked down by his old rogues anymore.

He could fly, even in his human form. Though, admittedly, the flight was much different. It was like using a muscle he hadn’t known existed beforehand. He didn’t just ignore gravity or wind resistance, though he felt more graceful in the air now than he ever did as Phantom.

There were more powers popping up, lasers and cold breath, x-ray vision and super strength. His lungs and heart were larger, and he could handle temperatures much easier. He didn’t have to transform to handle the pressure and cold of space anymore.

His reaction time had improved, becoming much faster than ever before. His senses were much stronger, and he had even seemed to gain a sense of electric fields, like a shark.

The only thing that separated him from a Kryptonian was that he had developed electrokenesis, which he had never seen any of them use on TV.

So, surely, he was fine.

Everything was normal, he hadn’t been transformed by alien DNA in a sketchy lab, he had just had a really weird and specific metagene activation.

—

Clark Kent, Kal-El, was panicking.

It had been around a month and a half since a particularly brutal fight between Interpol and an unknown assailant, and it seemed that Interpol was determined to draw out whoever had scorned them.

Their method of doing this, of course, was trying to level the city.

He and Jon were doing their best to stop them, but with both Kon and Zor-El away on their own business, it was difficult.

And by difficult, he meant almost impossible.

Slowly but surely he was driving them back, but not without massive amounts of damage to the city, especially with only Jon on dedicated rescuing duty.

He was distracted, trying to draw a group away from a heavily occupied building, when a projectile hit him in the back of the head.

The world spun for a moment, and then it went black.

(It was, probably, then, some sort of Kryptonite-metal alloy. Interpol at its finest.)

He woke slowly, forcing his eyes open. He felt like he had been hit by an eighteen wheeler.

Clark jolted up, preparing for the worst.

To his shock, though, the city hadn’t been reduced to rubble while he was out.

Jon seemed to still be working on evacuation, either unaware that he had went down or forcing himself to focus on the task at hand.

Then, a lightning-quick figure flew into view, and Clark’s mind went blank.

He thought, for a moment, that Kara was back. But, no, that wasn’t right, she was supposed to be off-planet for another week or so.

Besides, this new figure didn’t move like her. They were lankier and more slender, and they flew quicker than any member of his family.

Their powerset was different, too; they focused mainly on using blasts of ice and electricity to drive enemies back, only occasionally using their strength or lasers—ones which came from their hands instead of their eyes.

He had woken up at the tail end of the fight, it seemed. The remaining Interpol agents were fleeing from the mysterious metahuman.

They stayed in the sky, motionless, watching them leave.

As if they could sense him staring, they turned.

They were small, still clearly young. Probably around Kon’s age, or maybe even younger.

Instead of the colorful clothing he had inherited from his family, the stranger wore black and white clothes which looked similar to a hazmat suit, their face covered by some sort of gas mask.

Interestingly enough, instead of the S-shape crest that he was so used to seeing, the stranger wore the letter D on his chest.

Kal’s heart sped up.

From up in the sky, he heard the stranger’s heart, on the left instead of the right, speed up in return.

But before he could say a word to them, they sped off, disappearing into the deep blue sky.

[xiaowhore]

intoxicating.

premise. your boyfriend dumps you and says he doesn't love you anymore. of course, being the petty bitch that you are, you have to prove that you don't need him in your life either. and of course, intense emotions often lead to rash decisions, so you go to a bar in hopes of finding a new man.

somehow, even when all you've managed to do is scowl at anyone who approaches you and mope at the bar counter, you still manage to get one.

Wriothesley has dealt with his fair share of unruly drunks before, but they were something more along the lines of aggressive and sloppy, not depressed and sappy.

He finds that he'd rather manhandle angry alcoholics than a person who makes a slobbering mess all over his shirt, clinging to his arm and sobbing to his sleeve. Your body starts to sway even when he supports your weight, your footsteps unstable as your attempt to walk in a straight line fails entirely.

Okay, so maybe you are sloppy after all.

Wriothesley sighs and tightens his grip on your shoulders. There's no point in losing his patience with a drunk person. He didn't even mean to pick you up, it's just that as a police officer, his sense of responsibility makes him want to fix a troublesome situation whenever he sees one. Even when he isn't on duty, he often leads disruptive drunks out of bars and restaurants, forces them out when he has to, and is always on the receiving end of owners' gratitude.

However, he has no experience dealing with drunks that just got dumped by their boyfriend and chugged away the sorrow with alcohol. You know, like the one dragging their feet as he drags their inebriated body away.

At first, he thought you were hitting on him when he felt your head lean on his shoulder in the bar. It's a common strategy, one that he's dealt with enough times to know when someone is just pretending to be drunk and trying to get his attention. He was still thinking of what to say when tears actually rolled down your cheeks and you started retelling your life story that he never asked to hear about.

Wriothesley isn't actually trying to listen, but he still gets the gist of it. It would be hard not to when you're still prattling on about it beside his ear as we speak.

“He said...” You hiccup, warm liquid seeping into his shirt as you sob into his arm. He hopes that's from your tears and not your snot. “He said he doesn't feel anything for me anymore...”

So you glammed up for tonight and tried to have fun at a bar so you could prove to yourself you didn't need him in the same way he didn't need you. He can already recite the story perfectly from the amount of times you told him. Your plan is irrational at best, and he doesn't see himself doing the same if he were ever to be in the same situation, but he can't berate you for it. Not when you looked so miserable and hopeless to the extent he didn't think it would be safe to leave you alone back at the bar.

“You can't force yourself to be happy,” Wriothesley grumbles, finally giving up on carrying you by the shoulder and instead hoists you up on his back to give you a piggyback ride. Your shoes slip off your feet, so he sighs as he crouches down to pick them up. “At times like this, you should find other ways to feel better.”

Your body jolts against him as you hiccup once again. “Like what?”

“Dunno.” He shrugs, and he can feel you gradually getting used to being carried. It takes only a bit more for you to melt against his body, your chin snugly tucked in the juncture between his neck and shoulder. “Watch movies at home in your pajamas, I guess. Treat yourself to good food. Go on a trip. You look like the type to enjoy that. Much safer than getting involved with guys when you're still emotionally unavailable.”

You sniffle. “Romance movies only remind me of him. Eating at restaurants will make me remember the dates we've gone to. And going on trips will make me wish he's there with me.”

Why do they have an argument for each point I make? And I never said anything about the movie having to be romance. “Well, you still have to go through that,” he gives up on making you think otherwise. “But one day, you'll feel a little better about it. Maybe you'll want to start dating again when you watch that romance movie, or you'll want someone else to eat with on that restaurant you once went to. And when you're on a trip, maybe you'll even think you want somebody special to go with you.”

You go quiet. For a moment, he thinks you've fallen asleep. But then your head slowly rises from his shoulder, dazed eyes peeking at him unsurely. “You really think so?”

“It won't be easy,” Wriothesley says, because nothing ever is. “But you want to say you don't love him anymore, right?” He glances at you, at the dry tear streaks on your cheeks, at what glitter remains around your eyes from all the times you've rubbed away your tears.

For the first time that night, he sees you smile. “Yeah... I want to say it without feeling hurt anymore.”

He turns away, and he feels himself smiling without meaning to. “That's good.”

“...So do you like watching romance movies? Or eating [hometown] cuisine?”

“...No?”

“Then I'll settle for a movie you like. And I can make good food from anywhere.”

“...Are you hitting on me? Using my advice?”

“Is it working?”

Wriothesley laughs, looking at the person he's carrying on his back, who he is escorting to his apartment because you lost your keys and your roommate won't be back until tomorrow, whom he wrapped his leather jacket around because he felt you shivering against him, and who caught his eye the very moment he entered the bar.

“That's not a no.” He knows you're pouting even when he isn't looking anymore.

“Yeah,” he agrees with you, almost indulgently. “It isn't.”

When you wake up in an unfamiliar bedroom, dressed down to your undergarments and a t-shirt you definitely do not own, and with hardly any recollection of events from the past night, you think you've made a terrible, terrible mistake.

But then you spot the hangover medicine on the bedside table, your alcohol-spilled clothes drying in the laundry room, and possibly the most gorgeous man you've ever seen cooking breakfast in the kitchen, so whatever you did last night couldn't really be that bad.

“Oh, you're awake,” he says once he notices you standing in the middle of the room, completely awestruck. You don't even know what you should be staring at; his chiseled face, his strong arms, his tight tank top that faintly traces his muscled torso, the gray sweatpants that-

Okay. You are not going to look anywhere below his waist.

“Yeah,” is all you can manage, simply glad you didn't fuck up that one syllable. You feel like you're on the verge of either saying something really stupid or making really weird strangled noises. You prefer the former, if you can help it.

“Sit.” He pulls one chair from the dining table, gesturing for you to take it. You meekly take your seat, eyes shifting everywhere but his face. “You're rather quiet today,” he muses, taking one glance at your reddening face as he fixes the plates of pancakes in front and across you.

“...How was I yesterday, then?” You ask, though you don't actually want to hear the answer.

The man hums in thought, taking his sweet time while pouring coffee over two mugs. “Troublesome,” he decides to say. “You nearly puked over my rug, after all.”

You sputter, making all kinds of apologies and promises of compensation when all of a sudden, he laughs. “Nah, I'm kidding. But this means you don't remember anything at all, right?” He sits across from you, sliding the mug to your hand.

“No...” You take a sip, but you barely register how it tastes. “I remember ordering a lot of drinks, but that's pretty much it.”

“That's a shame.” He sighs, leaning back on his chair as he sips coffee. “I suppose that means our dinner plans are void, then.”

“Absolutely not!” The words come out of your lips before your brain-to-mouth filter processes it fully, your hand slamming down the mug on the table in protest. “Uh... that is... if you're available whenever...” You get a hold of yourself and feel your cheeks burning in shame.

He doesn't try to hide the amused smirk on his face. “Sure. I'll be looking forward to your hometown cooking, then.”

Just what on earth did you do last night...?

???

[shadowbends]

Looking through your Ao3 bookmarks and seeing that little “This has been deleted, sorry!” is like finding a gravestone, but the writing’s too worn down to read what it was standing for anymore.

What were you, Bookmark #336... What stories did you tell? Which words were it that once left a mark on my soul?  *touches my laptop screen like it’s text from an ancient ruin*

Cowabummer. 

[its-tea-time-darling]

im sorry, we turned your boyfriend into a mole. yeah and all of tumblr‘s interested in him now. sorry

edit 9/12/23 11.22 CET

and so it begins…

fic1, fic2 @pathsofoak ao3 tag. Mole Poem @thaliaisalesbian . fic by @tourmelion .

update:

ao3 link. please vote for mole scene in most underrated goncharov scene poll