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steviewashere · 1 month ago

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I don't know when I'll have the time to write this, but:

CW: Minor Mentions of Blood, Character Illness (Hanahaki), Use of Queer as a Slur

Hanahaki AU. Steve develops hanahaki over Eddie. It's not because, oh, Eddie's probably straight and doesn't know I'm into guys...

No, it's because, oh, Eddie doesn't want to be very close to me due to previous hangups he has.

Cut to Steve coughing up dark purple, almost black petals. Soft and wet and sticky to his fingers. Then, after some time, they become small buds. Small black rose buds with gentle, prickly thorns sprouting in his throat.

People around them find out quickly, very quickly, that Steve is experiencing Hanahaki. Everybody, sans Eddie himself, finds out they're related to Eddie—even as these black roses symbolize hatred, even as they come close to death and mourning in their meaning—they're still perfectly Eddie in color, shape, and beauty. Obviously, since nobody wants Steve to, y'know, die, they tell him to confess to Eddie.

However, Steve is faced with a secondary option at one of his doctor visits. A surgery. The petals can be removed, the thorns torn out and tossed, his lungs cleared...but his brain shocked empty of all traces of Eddie. All traces. He wouldn't know Eddie as he is now. He wouldn't know Eddie from when Dustin would ramble on and on and on about his new guy best friend. He wouldn't know Eddie as the mischievous troublemaker in high school.

And he especially wouldn't know Eddie as his childhood best friend that he drifted apart from many, many years ago. Nobody but them knows that part.

And soon, through decision, through the fear of death...Steve chooses to forget that part, too. He chooses to remove Eddie from his conscious. Every last part of him. With the decision made, the party members keep Eddie away, Robin goes through Steve's room and hides anything he has of Eddie's—including a little memory box of their childhood photographs, little trinkets he'd receive from Eddie, doodles and crushed flowers...crushed flowers that look similar to the ones Steve coughed up with a note attached to them: "For the prince to my prince. Mama said they're for royal people, and I thought they were beautiful. These are for you, because you're beautiful, too."

Steve kept all of it. Tucked neatly away for nobody but him to see. All these delicate, baby confessions of two queer kids in rural America, waiting for the right moment; though never getting that after a fall out in their relationship.

According to Eddie, the two drifted away due to rhetoric Steve's dad was spouting; rhetoric that was being passed on and spat right at Eddie's face from Steve's mouth. Even if he saw Steve change during and after Vecna, he'll always remember the last big fight in their friendship; the day he was called a queer.

When Eddie finds out, he's beyond devastated that Steve would make the choice to forget him. He gets it, Steve didn't want to die. He knows. But now he doesn't even have a spot in Steve's life? It cuts deep, it hurts.

He knows so much about Steve. Little details. Favorite things. Where his moles are. How he styles his hair. What he looked like before braces, before Tommy, before high school bullshit, before all the traumas. He knows who Steve really is, sweet and nurturing and nearly unbearably kind.

And now Steve doesn't know him. Doesn't love him.

He wishes he knew, because then they wouldn't be in this mess.

But Eddie gets to fall in love with Steve all over again. Shake his hand and introduce himself. Even though he wishes they could meet each other as kids, just like they did. Because Eddie remembers a dorky, geeky, self-conscious, timid little kid quietly asking him if they could play princes on the playground. And Steve remembers Eddie at twenty-one, full grown and stubborn; not the same shy kid, not the bubbly kid...just a man haunted.

But! Plot twist!!!

What if, yeah, Steve does forget Eddie...initially?

He meets Eddie again, for the first time. He gets to know Eddie. He begins a friendship with Eddie.

And then he begins getting these awful...awful migraines being around Eddie. Flashes of fractured, half-formed memories of some kid with big brown eyes and a shaved head, of a kid crouched down in wood chips trying to find a guitar pick he had dropped. Little glimpses of smiles: some with teeth missing, some with teeth growing back in, some with blood-stained lips, some with a blue tint. There's splintering voices, a little boy's and an older man's and a squeaky, pubescent voice—he hears his own name crackled around the edges, hears Prince Stevie cooed and King Steve snarled, soft words whispered through choking sobs and whip wild yelling.

He looks Eddie straight on at one point, his face open with concern, but all he sees is an angry, sobbing, red-faced, wet-faced little Eddie talking with Steve, "You think I'm...I'm a dirty queer? Why would you say that to me? No...no, Steve, keep your voice down, keep your voice"—and then, quieter, a whisper—"I thought I could trust you. I know I like boys, but that was a secret. You're an asshole, Steve. Go fuck yourself."

And when he blinks again, Eddie's concerned face staring back at him, all Steve does is cough and cough and cough. Eventually, he's hunched tight into himself and spitting directly into Eddie's palm. Out comes a fully formed black rose.

A bud that hadn't bloomed, that hadn't been removed. Sharp thorns and wet petals and an eye that swirls and swirls and swirls.

It all comes back to him, then, staring at that flower, floundering backwards, catching Eddie's eyes in a daze.

It all comes back to him.

How much he's always loved Eddie Munson.

Anyway, just like, a hanahaki surgery gone wrong, I guess. Like they all think it works until, y'know, it doesn't. They get close again and it floods back in. The very thing he tried to get away from.

I imagine that after Steve coughs up that fully formed rose, Eddie squishes it in his palm. The thorns cutting up his hand, the petals crushed between his fingers. And then he just...eats it. Like fully puts it on his tongue, chews it up between his teeth, and swallows the whole damn thing—yes, even the thorns. There's blood in his mouth, petals between his teeth, blood and drool on his hand.

And he lunges forward to grab Steve's face, to kiss him so roughly they could be devouring each other. And all they taste in each other are the bittersweet ghosts of black rose petals and the metallic harshness of one another's blood; Steve had hacked up blood, too, from the thorns cutting his throat.

And when they separate?

"You were the first boy I ever fell in love with," Eddie confesses, "you're the only boy I've ever loved. There's been nobody else in that place, Steve. Only you, after everything, have remained."

Okay. Now I'm done. I promise I'm done rambling. Would this be interesting as a fic? I don't know. It's fine.

#hanahaki au #I love hanahaki aus #stranger things #steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #childhood friends au #angst and hurt/comfort

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lushleona · 30 days ago

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HOW MANY THINGS. mattheo riddle.

mattheo riddle x fem!reader.

summary ; mattheo was never the type to stay where he wasn’t wanted; that is, until he met you… inspired by the song how many things by sabrina carpenter. words ; 5.7k warnings ; modern au (cellphones are used), angst, swearing, drinking, vague sexual innuendos

navigation. masterlist.

Mattheo had never been a pushover; no, he was rather a force to be reckoned with — a hard-ass, for lack of a better word. Born with razor sharp thorns pricking up from under his skin, leaving him bloodied red as roses and torn up before he ever even needed to fight, and barbed wire forced into his throat as he grew older in a world that proved itself impossibly difficult to conquer, he didn’t put up with bullshit.

He didn’t take disrespect or let people get close enough to see even the faintest scab marks of an old wound, and if anyone crossed him, he would make sure they’d live to regret it, erase them from his world like they were nothing more than chalk on pavement — quick, cold, and final.

Maybe he should’ve kept it that way with you too.

He finds himself unable to recall the exact moment that you’d managed to cut through the vines of poison ivy that had snaked their way around his heart, but he does recall the moments that may have led up to it, the ones that brought you closer and closer to his softened center without even trying.

A brush of shoulders every morning when you walked through corridors, secret smiles exchanged like swapping keys to locked rooms, long-lasting conversations that moved from crowded classrooms to the cozy confines of your homes, allowing you to make your own little corner in his heart.

You never had to beg for space in his world. You carved yourself into him like you belonged there. Not forcefully. No, it was slower than that, more deliberate. Like water through stone. You wore him down until the sharpest parts of him didn’t point at you anymore. Until his anger softened at the sight of your tired eyes. Until your name stopped sounding foreign in his mouth and started sounding like home.

Oftentimes he found himself reminiscing on the beginning of your relationship, when you were warm and inviting, your love being the kind of fire he’d learned to cup his hands around to protect from the wind, aloof to the burn that grazed his fingertips every once in a while. For he was willing to put up with any pain as long as it meant your soul was still intertwined with his, his fingers mindlessly pulling at the strings to keep you close.

But lately, it felt like the fire had been snuffed out. What was once an embery, bright red blaze had dwindled to a lone candle flickering in the dark — and Mattheo couldn’t shake the sense that he was the only one still trying to keep it alive.

At first, he tricked himself into believing it was just a fluke. You were tired, or stressed, or busy; that had to be it. That had to be the only reason why he felt like there was a fucking chasm growing between the two of you — why he felt like you pulled away every time he got close.

It had to be something small. Temporary. Fixable. That’s what he told himself, anyway.

He was certainly never one to pry, opting to bury his feelings under layers and layers of soil from which beautiful flowers would sprout to cover the truth. If he could just make everything look okay — if he kept showing up, kept kissing your forehead, kept making excuses on your behalf — then maybe things would be okay. Maybe you’d notice. Maybe you’d come back to him without him ever having to ask.

Because asking meant acknowledging, and acknowledging meant accepting the possibility that he wasn’t imagining it. That it really was slipping.

Being a bother, a burden, was his worst fucking nightmare. He lived under the fear that you would grow even colder if he troubled you with asking. He knew what happened when people got annoyed with him. He knew what abandonment tasted like — cold and metallic, a childhood memory rotting behind his ribs — and he wasn’t ready to taste it again.

So he didn’t say anything. Not when you stopped reaching for his hand the way you used to. Not when you started spending more time on your phone. Not when you kissed him absentmindedly like it was part of a routine instead of something you wanted. He told himself it was just life getting in the way. Just stress, just timing, just hormones.

It was ridiculous; he knew that. You weren’t some ice-hearted monster that would shut him out for trying to communicate, but maybe that would’ve been easier. Because at least then, he could’ve hated you. At least then, there would be something clear to hold onto, something he could point at and say, this is why it hurts.

Instead, it’s all this fog. This slow, suffocating quiet where your love used to live, and somehow, that’s worse.

Mattheo stares at the wall across from him like it might offer answers, like it might tell him when exactly things changed. When your love became absentminded. When he became convenient. A fixture. Familiar, but no longer thrilling. Something you didn’t hate, but something you didn’t crave like oxygen either.

He hears the soft rustle of your perfume spritzing into the air in the other room and imagines the way it’ll cling to your coat, to the hollow of your throat, to someone else’s memory when they catch a whiff of it in the street. You’ll smell like something perfect and untouchable, and no one will know that the boy who notices every time you change your scent is sitting on your couch, barely holding himself together.

You hadn’t even asked him to come tonight, wherever you were going. Not even a throwaway “you can come if you want.” Not even a lie.

And maybe that’s the part that hurts most — how easily he’s been written out of your world, how you make it seem effortless. Like love was never supposed to be permanent, just something you tried on until it no longer fit.

He sinks further into the cushions, elbows on his knees, hands dangling uselessly between them. He hates this, hates the version of himself he becomes when you’re like this: quiet, pliant, desperately waiting to be noticed again. It’s humiliating, really. He used to take pride in being cold, in being impenetrable. But now?

Now he stays alone at your flat when you’re out and remembers how you like your tea and flinches when you forget to kiss him goodbye.

Your heels click down the hallway. He doesn’t look up until you’re at the door.

“Do I look alright?” you ask, tugging your coat sleeve down, eyes flicking toward him only briefly.

He nods, eyes trailing over you, heart already unraveling. “Yeah. You look beautiful.”

You smile, distractedly murmuring a soft, “thank you,” before reaching for the door.

“I love you,” he says quietly, like a reflex.

“Love you too. Don’t wait up,” you mutter, adjusting your coat, pulling your phone out of your bag without sparing him more than a glance.

He nods and forces a small smile, the kind that feels like a lie made flesh.

“I won’t,” he says.

But he will, of course he will.

The door clicks shut behind you, and Mattheo stares at it like if he focuses hard enough, it might open again. Like maybe you’ll come back and say you forgot something — your wallet, your lipstick, him.

But you don’t.

He sits there for a few minutes, motionless, before finally dragging his phone out of his pocket and opening his messages.

Mattheo: You doing anything tonight?

It takes less than a minute for a reply to come through.

Theo: Depends.

Theo: Are you trying to get drunk or are we brooding in silence again?

Mattheo exhales through his nose, the closest thing to a laugh he can manage.

Mattheo: Bit of both.

Mattheo: Come by.

Theo: Be there in 20.

By the time he stands up, Mattheo’s limbs feel heavy. He stretches them out like he’s been sitting there for hours instead of minutes, runs a hand through his hair, and glances around the apartment — too clean and too perfect, all the edges smoothed out to fit your preferences.

He heads toward the kitchen, opens the fridge, then closes it again. Nothing sounds appealing. He’s halfway to the couch again when he remembers — your cat.

The tiny gray menace you insisted on adopting from a shelter last winter. She hated him at first. Clawed up his pillow and pissed on his shoes. But eventually, she started curling up on his lap when you weren’t home, started head-butting his chin like she chose him. He didn’t say it aloud, but he liked that. He liked her, mostly because she never made him wonder if she wanted him there or not.

He finds her in the corner of the living room, perched on the windowsill like she’s waiting for you too.

“Yeah,” he mutters, kneeling down to scratch behind her ears. “Don’t hold your breath.”

She blinks at him slowly, then jumps down and pads toward her empty water bowl.

Mattheo goes to the kitchen to fill it, and that’s when it hits him.

The memory comes sideways, like most of them do lately. It’s nothing big. Just a night with you barefoot in the kitchen, your hair messy, laughing at something he said, one hand absentmindedly stroking the cat’s back while the other held a mug of tea. You were wearing one of his shirts — he remembers because he liked how it looked on you, the way it hung loose on your perfect frame, driving him mad with temptation and adoration.

“You’re staring,” you’d said back then, smirking without looking up, and he instantly knew your thoughts of lust and love mirrored his own.

“Can you blame me?” he’d replied, walking up behind you and wrapping his arms around your waist before his hands slid down to squeeze at your ass, pressing a kiss to the curve of your neck. “You’re kind of perfect like this.”

You turned, kissed him slow and sleepy, and murmured against his lips, “I love you, y’know.”

He’d believed you. With everything in him, he’d believed you.

Now, standing in the same kitchen with the same damn cat and none of that warmth, he feels the grief of it. Not for a breakup or for something that’s over, but for something that’s still here, still breathing and just not alive anymore.

He closes his eyes, pressing the heels of his hands against them like he can shove the memory back where it came from, but it clings. The knock at the door a few minutes later makes him flinch.

Theo.

Good. He needs the distraction. He needs something to do with his hands besides remembering you.

His best friend steps in with a bottle of firewhisky and a raised brow, already shrugging off his coat.

“You look like shit,” he says, by way of greeting.

Mattheo huffs a sound that might be a laugh if it weren’t so hollow. “You’re one to talk.”

They settle in the living room without ceremony. No need for pleasantries; they’ve known each other too long. The bottle is uncapped, poured, and the silence stretches comfortably between them, thick as smoke. Mattheo drinks like he’s trying to set fire to something inside of him. Maybe he is.

Theo throws his feet up on the coffee table — your coffee table — and leans back with a sigh. “You’ve been quiet lately.”

“Mm,” Mattheo says, noncommittal. He takes another swig, the burn catching in his throat like a warning he ignores.

Theo’s voice cuts through the silence again. “You still working on that bike?”

Mattheo nods, grateful for the shift. “Put in new pistons last week. It’s still fucked, though. Can’t get it to run clean.”

Theo grunts, swirling the amber in his glass. “Sounds like you.”

Mattheo lets the jab land and doesn’t argue. He just presses the rim of the glass to his lips and stares ahead at nothing in particular.

Truth is, he does feel like a broken engine. Still functioning, technically, but something deep in the machinery has been misfiring for a while. Maybe it’s grief. Maybe it’s fear. Maybe it’s just the slow, dull rot of being in love with someone who’s stopped remembering to look at him like he’s hers.

But he doesn’t say any of that; he can’t.

Because saying it would give it shape. It would make it real.

Theo doesn’t push; he never has. That’s part of why Mattheo still lets him around — why he doesn’t flinch when he hears his voice, doesn’t tense when he catches his gaze. Everyone else wants pieces, explanations, a crack in the armor so they can stick their fingers in and pry it open. But Theo? He just sits there and lets him speak or not speak. Drinks the same as he always has, like it’s just another Thursday.

Mattheo leans back, glass balanced on his knee, firewhisky burning down into the pit of something he hasn’t named yet. The cushions under him dip like they’re caving in from the weight of all the words he won’t say.

Theo breaks the silence again, voice low but not soft. “You ever think we peaked in sixth year?”

Mattheo snorts. “I peaked in fourth, mate. Back when I still thought I was fucking invincible and didn’t know what it meant to be gutted sideways by things you can’t punch.”

“Mm,” Theo hums, tilting his head. “I miss when the worst thing we had to worry about was detention.”

“Now I gotta worry about whether I forgot to take the bins out and if she’s gonna come home pissed about it.”

“She usually pissed about it?”

Mattheo’s silent for a beat too long. Then, flatly: “She’s not usually anything lately.”

Theo nods, just once, like he understands, because he does, he always fucking does.

Mattheo shifts in his seat, tilting his glass in his hands like it might tell him something if he stares hard enough. “You ever feel like you’re—” he stops. Swallows, then tries again. “Like you’re… giving so much of yourself to someone that there’s not even anything left to miss when they don’t notice?”

Theo raises a brow, not surprised by the half-confession, but not pouncing on it either. “Yeah.”

Mattheo exhales. It’s not relief. It’s more like… confirmation. That this ache, this raw, bone-deep hollowness isn’t unique, isn’t special, isn’t even interesting. Just another fucking casualty of caring too hard.

“You ever say anything about it?” he asks, voice quieter now, but not weaker. Just less performative.

Theo laughs, sharp and short. “Fuck no. What good does it do? You either say it and scare them off, or say nothing and rot from the inside out.”

Mattheo lets out something between a laugh and a sigh. “Cheery, aren’t you.”

“I’m drinking with you, aren’t I?”

They clink glasses without ceremony. The sound is dull, like the whisky knows it’s not celebration but survival.

Mattheo stares down into the amber, watching it slosh against the sides like it might spill all the things he’s too much of a coward to say. And he is a coward, though no one would dare call him that to his face. Not when he’s always been the firestarter, the mouthy one, the first to throw a punch and the last to back down. But when it comes to you? He folds like a paper bag, like one sharp word might split him clean through the middle.

“I think I broke something,” he says suddenly, gaze still fixed on his drink.

Theo tilts his head. “What kind of something?”

“Dunno.” Mattheo shrugs one shoulder. “Something inside me. Feels like there’s this… noise all the time. This pressure. Like the inside of my chest is gonna collapse under it. Like if I breathe wrong I’ll fall apart.”

Theo watches him for a second, then offers, “Could be your ribs.”

Mattheo gives a weak laugh, the kind that doesn’t reach his eyes. “You’re such a prick.”

“And you’re dramatic as fuck.”

“Says the bloke who wrote a sonnet after that girl dumped him in fifth year.”

“That girl had cheekbones carved by angels and smelled like cherry pie. Show some respect.”

Mattheo smiles, despite himself. Not because he’s okay or because he feels better, but because this — this banter, this brutal kind of loyalty masked as sarcasm— is the only kind of safety he’s got left.

“Thanks for coming,” he says finally, not looking at Theo.

Theo nods. “You’d do it for me.”

“Yeah. And I’d mock your heartbreak the entire time.”

“Obviously.”

They fall silent again, but it’s easier now. Less like drowning.

Mattheo leans back against the couch, head tilted toward the ceiling, eyes fluttering shut. He can still hear your cat pawing at the edge of the hallway, somewhere near the closed bedroom door. He knows exactly where she’ll curl up when she gets back. He knows she won’t come to him first. He knows he won’t say anything about it, about how you don’t come to him first either.

He’ll stay quiet. He’ll stay still. He’ll let it fester like a wound wrapped in silk.

Because saying something would make it real. And if it’s real, then he has to admit that this version of love — the one where he’s always last, always small, always too much and not enough all at once — is the only kind he’s ever known.

And if he loses this?

He’s not sure there’s anything left worth being. So instead, he’ll cling on as long as he can. Who knows if he’ll ever find anything better?

Time passes until he’s not sure how late it is, the hours blending together like chalk left out in the rain. Somewhere between his nth drink and Theo’s incessant babbling, the sound of the front door unlocking cuts clean through the air.

Your laugh filters in first, bright and bubbly. Something about it makes his stomach twist, because it’s not for him; it hasn’t been for a while.

Mattheo sits up straighter, suddenly too aware of how much he’s had to drink. His pulse stutters. You walk in a moment later, eyes sparkling, coat still half hanging off your arms like you rushed home in the middle of a story you couldn’t wait to tell.

“There you are,” you say, breathless. “Oh my god, baby, you’re not gonna believe this.”

His heart stumbles again at the word baby. You haven’t said it in days — maybe weeks — but now it’s casual, light, tossed out like a sweet nothing instead of a tether back to him.

You spot Theo on the couch and smile. “Oh, hey, Theo.”

Theo nods. “Hey.”

Mattheo’s mouth curls upward, slow and tentative. For a second, all he sees is you. The version of you from months ago, when you used to walk in the door with that look in your eyes and fall into him like home. You’re glowing now, lit from within by whatever you’re about to say, and fuck, he lets himself believe, just for a moment, that maybe it’s about him. That maybe you’ve remembered him again. That maybe he still matters.

You laugh, tossing your bag onto the floor, and sit beside him, cupping his jaw with both hands and pressing a kiss to his lips like it’s still the most natural thing in the world. He melts into it, eyes closing, body sighing against yours like it’s been waiting all night for this moment.

Then you pull back, grinning. “I said yes.”

He blinks. “What?”

“To Spain. The study abroad program. My friend Daphne and I — remember, I told you about her? — we’ve been talking about it forever. And today, we just looked at each other and went, ‘Why the hell not?’ So we signed up. We’re going next term.”

It takes him a second to process the words. Another to feel the floor tilt beneath him.

You’re still smiling, proud of yourself, waiting for him to join in your joy.

And he wants to. Fuck, he wants to.

But all he can hear is the shatter of something delicate breaking inside his chest.

“You… what?” he says slowly, blinking. “You signed up?”

“Yeah,” you say, eyes sparkling. “Isn’t it crazy? I wasn’t even planning to do it, but it just felt right.”

He stares at you, blinking once. Twice. The smile doesn’t come back this time.

“You didn’t tell me.”

“I’m telling you now,” you say lightly. “It all happened so fast.”

Mattheo forces a tight breath through his nose, jaw working. “Did you even think about me?”

Your face falters slightly. “What do you mean?”

“I mean,” he says, and his voice is rawer now, frayed at the edges like old rope, “you made this massive fucking decision — one that changes everything — and I wasn’t even in the room for it. Not even a conversation. Just… you and Daphne going ‘Why the hell not?’ like it was booking tickets to a bloody concert.”

Theo shifts slightly, rising from the couch. “Right,” he mutters, rubbing the back of his neck. “I’m gonna go ahead and, uh, not be here for this.”

Neither of you look at him as he leaves. The door clicks shut behind him and the silence that follows is dense. It wraps around Mattheo’s ribs like iron.

You sigh, the kind that sounds like it’s been waiting to happen all day. “I didn’t think I needed to ask permission.”

“I’m not saying you needed permission,” he replies, voice quieter now, but colder. “I’m saying I thought we were a we. And I guess I was wrong.”

You frown. “Mattheo, don’t do this. It’s an amazing opportunity.”

“I know it is,” he snaps, then winces and runs a hand down his face. “But I’ve been sitting here for weeks wondering if I’m even in your head anymore, and then you come home smiling like the sun to tell me you’re fucking leaving. And I wasn’t even a passing thought on the way to the decision.”

You look at him, softer now, but not in the way he needs, not with the urgency he craves, not like he’s the thing you miss when you’re gone.

“I didn’t think you’d care this much,” you say finally.

And that is what kills him.

Because he has never cared about anything more.

Mattheo swallows it down, lets it burn on the way to his stomach like the firewhisky still warm in his veins. He nods slowly, then stands up without a word and disappears down the hall

You call after him once, quietly, but he doesn’t answer. He’s already in the kitchen, filling the cat’s bowl, hands shaking slightly as he listens to the soft mewling by his feet. And it’s that — the goddamn cat — that triggers it.

Because last winter, you brought her home shivering and tiny, wrapped in a scarf you’d stolen from Mattheo’s drawer. You’d fed her with an eyedropper every three hours like she was a child. He remembers you laughing when she curled up in the crook of his elbow for the first time.

“See?” you’d whispered, like it was some profound truth. “She knows you’re safe.”

He stares at the cat now, blinking hard. She nudges against his leg like nothing’s changed.

But everything has. Everything is.

You come after him a few moments later — he hears the soft tread of your feet against the wood floor, the tentative way you stop at the doorway like you’re not sure if you’re supposed to enter.

He doesn’t look at you, just crouches down beside the cat, scratching gently behind her ears while she eats, her tiny pink tongue darting rhythmically into the bowl like she’s unaware that the air is thick enough to choke on.

“Mattheo,” you say, quiet. “Can we talk about this?”

He lets out a breath that feels like it deflates something inside him as he stands back up, deliberately keeping his eyes off yours. His voice, when it comes, is low and tight. “Sure. Let’s talk. Now that the ticket’s booked and your bags are already half-packed.”

You cross the threshold slowly, arms folded like you’re trying to shield yourself from something. “Mattheo, please.”

He wipes his hands on a dish towel, not because they need drying, but because he needs something to do before he turns around and sees your face. Because he knows the moment he looks at you, he’s going to feel it all over again. The ache, the hope, the slow realization that maybe he’s been more alone in this relationship than he ever wanted to admit.

Still, he turns. And when he sees you — eyes wide, arms crossed over your chest like you’re cold or nervous or both — it hits him like it always does. That gut-deep devotion that refuses to die, even when it’s being starved.

“You didn’t even think about me,” he says again, quieter this time. Not accusing. Just… hurt. Bone-deep hurt. “That’s what kills me.”

You shake your head, stepping closer. “That’s not fair. It’s not like I’m moving to Spain forever. It’s one semester. Five months. It’s not that serious.”

“Not that serious?” he repeats, and there’s a bitter edge to the laugh that leaves his throat. He tilts his head slightly. “You didn’t think about what it would do to me. Not once. You didn’t think about how I’d feel waking up in a bed that smells like you, in a flat that echoes without your footsteps in it. You didn’t think about how I’d spend the next four months pretending I’m fine while you’re off drinking sangria and forgetting I exist.”

“I’m not forgetting you,” you say, voice a little sharper now, defensive. “You’re being dramatic.”

He laughs again, harsher this time. “Yeah. I guess I am. Must be all the fucking firewhisky.”

You glance at the half-empty glass on the counter. “Maybe you should stop drinking.”

“Maybe you should’ve told me you were leaving before you already packed your goddamn suitcase.”

That silences you. He watches the way you flinch, just barely, and it makes him hate himself a little more, because he never wanted to be cruel to you; he just wanted to matter.

You take another step toward him, arms still folded, like you’re bracing yourself. “I thought you’d be happy for me.”

“I am happy for you,” he says, voice breaking around the edges. “But I’m also fucking heartbroken. Do you get that? Can you even hold both of those things at once, or is it just easier to pretend I’ll be fine no matter what you do?”

He can feel the frustration building under his skin like pressure in a pipe, threatening to burst. But underneath it, worse than all of it, is the fear. The slow, creeping terror that this is just the beginning of the end.

“You didn’t talk to me,” he continues, hands flexing at his sides. “You didn’t even ask if I’d be okay with it. You just… made the choice.”

“I didn’t think I had to,” you say, voice rising a little now. “You’ve never made me feel like I couldn’t do things on my own. I thought you’d be proud of me.”

“I am proud of you,” he bites out, because of course he is. That’s the sick part. That even now, even as he’s drowning in the weight of being left behind, he still wants you to fly. “But I’m not made of fucking stone, alright? I’m not some goddamn statue you keep on your shelf to cheer you on from the sidelines. I’m your boyfriend. And maybe, just maybe, I wanted to matter enough to be part of the decision.”

You look down, suddenly quiet. He swallows hard.

Silence stretches again. The cat meows softly, as if trying to bridge the void.

You stare at him. He can see the tears swimming in your eyes now, but it doesn’t undo what’s already been said.

He shakes his head and leans back against the counter, running a hand through his hair. “You used to tell me everything. Now I’m lucky if I get leftovers. And I’ve been trying, alright? I’ve been trying to not be that guy. The clingy, jealous boyfriend who can’t handle his girl having her own life.”

His eyes meet yours, bloodshot and bright. “But fuck, love. I didn’t think I was completely disposable.”

“Mattheo, you’re not—”

“Then why do I feel like I am?” he cuts in, and it’s louder than he meant, harsher. “You didn’t even consider what it’d mean for us. What it’d do to me. You didn’t think, ‘Oh, maybe I should talk to the person I come home to every night before I decide to vanish across a continent.’ You just decided. Like I’m some guy you’re dating, not... not me.”

You look down, and for a moment he thinks you might apologize. That maybe you’ll reach for him, finally. That maybe he’ll feel like yours again, instead of some antique you pass by daily without noticing the dust collecting.

But instead, you say, “I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

And maybe that’s what wrecks him most. Because you didn’t mean to. You just did. Like it was easy, like hurting him was just a side effect you forgot to list on the bottle of whatever freedom you’ve been chasing lately.

“I know,” he says, voice barely holding together. “You just didn’t think about me at all. And I don’t know which is worse.”

“I just thought—” you pause, struggling to find the right spin, the safe angle. “You never say much when things are bothering you. I figured if there was something going on, you’d have said something before.”

“I don’t say things,” he repeats, letting the words echo in the space between you. “Right. And what, that means I don’t feel them?”

You flinch, ever so slightly.

Mattheo’s hands come to grip the edge of the counter behind him, knuckles going pale. He’s trying not to let it spill, but it’s close. He’s spent so long swallowing every sharp edge that his throat feels permanently bruised from it. And now, there’s blood on his tongue and no way to pretend he can’t taste it.

“I don’t say things,” he says again, quieter now. “Because every time I’ve opened my mouth to ask someone to stay, they’ve left anyway. Because I learned a long fucking time ago that needing someone is a liability. So yeah, I didn’t say anything. But don’t mistake that for not caring. Don’t twist my silence into apathy. You’re not the only one who matters here.”

He watches the way you absorb that. The way your eyes dart, the way your mouth opens, then closes again, like maybe you didn’t realize how far he’s been falling.

The cat hops up onto the counter and purrs by his back, utterly unaware of the storm between the two of you. Mattheo reaches around and scratches her behind the ears, the movement grounding, automatic.

Mattheo’s voice is quieter now, but there’s no softness in it, just weariness. “You didn’t even ask me to come with you.”

You flinch. You weren’t expecting that.

His laugh is bitter. “Guess you didn’t think I’d want to.”

“Would you?” you whisper, barely audible.

He meets your eyes, and there’s something hollow in him now, some void that’s widened and finally swallowed the last of his hope. “I’d follow you anywhere,” he says. “That’s the problem.”

He doesn’t know how to tell you that you’re still everything to him. That he still waits for your messages like a schoolboy, still sleeps on his side of the bed even when you don’t come home from hours. That he notices the way you’ve stopped wearing his hoodies. That he’s counted the times you’ve kissed him in the last week and still has fingers left over. That he finds your name engraved into every mundane object he sees.

That he’s got ways to find you any and everywhere.

The silence returns, heavy and absolute. You take a step forward, like you might close the gap between you, but Mattheo steps back.

It’s not out of anger, not meant to punish you. Just... self-preservation. What little of it he has left, anyway.

He swallows hard, voice rough. “You’re gonna do what you want anyway. I just wish, for once, you’d wanted me enough to factor me in. You used to want me. I’m not even a priority anymore.”

You’re still, eyes shining with something you don’t say.

But he’s not waiting anymore. Not tonight.

He turns from you, opens the cabinet to pull down another glass. “You want a drink?” he asks, not looking at you.

“Mattheo,” you murmur. “I love you.”

He gulps down what’s remaining in his cup, then lifts his gaze and stares at you for a long moment. Your words should be enough; for most people, they would be enough.

But love without presence, without consideration; it’s like flowers growing in a room with no light. They bloom for a while, but they always die in the end.

“I know,” he says.

And he does. You love him in the way people love things they’re used to. Love the old songs they don't play anymore, love the sweater that sits untouched in the closet. It’s love, but not the kind that stays.

Eventually, he hears your footsteps retreat. The door to the bedroom clicks shut a moment later, soft and final.

Mattheo stays in the kitchen long after that, staring at nothing, the cat curling up by his feet like a cruel reminder of what used to be.

He pours the drink, slow and steady. Not because he wants to forget.

But because remembering is killing him.

reminder that reblogs, feedback, and comments are very appreciated and make me smile :)

a/n: completely unintentional but a line somewhere in here also reminded me of the song scared of my guitar by olivia rodrigo so there’s that too </3 this is not fully edited and i’m tired so i’m sorry if it’s kinda shitty :’)

#; leo’s works! ⋆. 𐙚 ̊#mattheo riddle #mattheo riddle x you #mattheo riddle x reader #mattheo riddle angst #mattheo riddle imagine #mattheo riddle x fem!reader #slytherin boys #harry potter #slytherin boys x reader #mattheo riddle fic #mattheo riddle oneshot #benjamin wadsworth #slytherin #angst #mattheo x you

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wangxianficfinder · 14 days ago

Text

In the mood for...

May 14th

~*~

1. Hello! For itmf wangxian chat-fics please?? Thankyou!! @lunamooonn

you gotta help me; i’m losing my mind by livinginaworldofnoise (G, 3k, WangXian, Modern AU, Social Media, Reddit AU, Crack, wangxian seeking advice from reddit, Misunderstandings, Miscommunication, Assumptions of Cheating, Unconventional Format, Epistolary, Kinda?, [Podfic] Cold read of you gotta help me; i’m losing my mind by kisahawklin) is a hilarious Reddit fic okay?

it’s all fun and games ’til somebody loses their mind by livinginaworldofnoise (G, 8k, WangXian, Modern, Roommates/Housemates, Epistolary, chatfic, Texting, what if they were roommates and they were completely incompatible and also they had a cat, the unsubtle art of annoying your roommate into falling in love with you, the inherent romance of passive aggressive post-its, Passive-aggression, Crack, Unconventional Format, Living Together) and pretty much everything by this author because she does epistolary (sp??) type fics !+

Grandmaster of Meme-onic Cultivation by Hades_the_Blingking (T, 75k, multiple ships, Chatlogs, chatfic, Texting, Comedy, Canon Compliant, Crack, Memes, Humour, JGY is best bitch, i am afraid of when LXC finally snaps, XY is a highly cursed person, NHS is still mvp tbh, chatroom fic, Polyamory, Lots of it, Not Everyone Dies, Additional: please do not eat or drink reading this enough people have choked x-x) is a full-chat fic

🔒 you’ve ruined my life (by not being mine) by cicer (E, 132k, WangXian, Modern AU, Developing Relationship, Idiots in Love, Awkward Flirting, teenage romance, Shameless WWX, slowburn, Demisexuality, references to lqr’s a+ parenting, references to jfm’s a+ parenting, but we’re gonna get a happy ending ANYWAY, references to yzy’s a+ parenting, Background NMJ/LXC, hints of nmj/lxc/jgy, bottom LWJ in chapter 15, [Podfic] you’ve ruined my life (by not being mine) by fensandpodfic (fensandmarshes))

call me, beep me by myung (T, 39k, WangXian, MM/WQ, JC/WN, JYL/JZX, Social Media, Modern, Actors, Celebrity, Chatting & Messaging)

He is Wei Wuxian’s by devinokaze (T, 41k, WangXian, Modern, Celebrity, Actors, Actor WWX, Singer/Dancer LWJ, Social Media, Entertainment Industry, POV Outsider, Fluff and Humor)

life, drama and action by Akai__hana (G, 13k, WangXian, JYL/JZX, Modern, Actors, singer LWJ, actor WWX, Social Media, Fluff and Humor, Established Relationship, Crack)

~*~

2. Itmf

Are there any fics where Jiang Fengmian for once gets his shit together and stands up to Yu Ziyuan for his Children and that changes his relationship with his children including Wei Ying. Like I literally want him to shun her away from all three kids n Jiang Fengmian to finally be the father that he was supposed to be. @kan-chan-aqua

A wilted lotus sprouts thorns by GeminiWillow (Not Rated, 42k, WIP, WangXian, JFM Tries, Good Parent JFM, POV JFM, BAMF JFM, Time Travel Fix-It, Canon Divergence, YZY Bashing, Bad Parent YZY, JC Bashing, JFM-centric, Somebody Lives/Not Everyone Dies, Sentient Burial Mounds, Yúnmèng Jiāng Sect Deserves Better, LWJ Has Friends, Sect Heir JYL) might not be an exact fit because Jiang Cheng ends up in Madam Yu's custody but he does stand up to her going as far as to divorce her so here

~*~

3. Hello! I'm looking for stories where Wei Wuxian's mental health is more addressed, for example, they could be stories that indicate that his mental health is very damaged, they could also be stories exploring the headcanon that he has ADHD.

we’re starting at the end by Miss_Enthusiasimal (M, 92k, WangXian, JC & WWX, Time Travel, Canon Divergence, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Golden Core Reveal, Burial Mounds, Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Starvation, emaciation, Cannibalism, Self-Harm, Amputation, Suicidal Thoughts, Sunshot Campaign, let JZX and WWX be friends club)

Consequences by Remma3760 (Not Rated, 58k, WangXian, XiSu, XuanLi, Canonical Child Abuse, Abusive YZY, Good Uncle LQR, WWX is a Lan, Accidental Baby Acquisition, Bad Parents JFM and YZY)

Silent Goodbyes Taste Bitter by Starlight1395 (Not Rated, 26k, WangXian, vent fic, Hurt/Comfort, openish ending, Suicidal Thoughts, Self-Harm, Depression, Anxiety, cloud recesses days, Angst, beginnings of Wangxian, Happy Ending, self deprecating thoughts, Mentions of past child abuse, Attempted Suicide, Panic Attacks, Blood, graphic self-harm and suicide attempt, only in second chapter tho)

🔒 Changed for the Better by tigerlilly3224 (M, 4k, WangXian, Modern, College/University, Mental Health Issues, Therapy, Medication, WWX Has ADHD, Autistic LWJ, Therapist LXC, Good Sibling LXC, Good Uncle LQR, Bad Parents JFM and YZY, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Past Child Neglect, Grief/Mourning, Of your past, Protective LWJ, Adopted WWX, Healing, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Feels, Panic Attacks)

The Art of Communication by mrcformoso (G, 4k, WangXian, Modern AU, College/University, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Meet-Cute, Engineering Student WWX, Music Student LWJ, Swimmer WWX, Martial Artist LWJ, POV Outsider, POV WWX, POV LWJ, Everything is Beautiful and Nothing Hurts, Communication Issues, But Wanxian Makes it Work, LWJ has limited words, WWX has too many words, Falling In Love, First Kiss, Love Confessions, Love Languages, Requited Love)

in the arms of the angel by ScarlettStorm (E, 37k, WangXian, Modern with Magic, Fox WWX, animal rescuer LWJ, Minor pining, major shenanigans, Comedy, Smut, Getting Together, Hurt/Comfort, Adhd WWX, Blowjobs, Frottage, switch rights, Scent Kink, mildly telepathic sex, courtship via kittens)

O, What Learning Is! by Comfect (T, 60k, WangXian, XiCheng, XuanLi, Canon Divergence No Fall of Lotus Pier, No Golden Core Transfer, Fix-It, Butterfly Effect, Fluff, Cultivation Theory, Cultivation Sect Politics, JYL and JZX Live, Canon-Typical Violence, LWJ-Typical Unwillingness to Discuss Feelings Initially, WWX-Typical Obliviousness, Unreliable Narrator WWX, The Undeniable Romance of Quests, Good Student WWX (for a given value of good student), Canon-typical treatment of children, Especially WWX, Bad Parent YZY, Bad Parent JFM, Good Uncle LQR) isn’t tagged as such, but it’s written from Wei Ying’s POV, giving the reader a glimpse of his chaotic, probable-ADHD pattern of thinking.

🔒 Concord by Deastar (T, 41k, WangXian, Arranged Marriage, Gūsū Lán Sect Rules, Depression, Canon Divergence, Angst with a Happy Ending, [Coldread of] Concord by Deastar by AuntieIroh)

~*~

4. I just saw #6's ask & it made me curious, r there any fics where wwx is resurrected but hides it - where people know it's him, they just thought/start to think he never actually died, & like fled & left them to their assumptions or faked his death or was just badly hurt and lacking his wounds for awhile. Also, u know in downtown abbey when that bandaged scarred guy was either edith's childhood friend or lying & scamming her? Any like that? Where wwx is thoughtofwell&fakesappearorhedoubted?

in this place where we don’t have a prayer by Cerusee, Mikkeneko (T, 42k, XuanLi, WangXian, ChengQing, for like the first time ever someone besides WWX actually succeeds at killing WWX, now historically killing WWX without WWX’s active participation, has proven to be a tricky proposition but here we go, killing WWX has made a lot of people very angry and is widely being regarded as a bad move, WWX: I made necromancy look cool and now all the kids are doing it, WQ: what—like it’s hard?, JC shout, she is a godsend, if you ever need a character to just yell the thing, JC is available for your shouting needs, JZX: the least objectionable of all the Jins, JC is getting like all of the best comedy lines in this story, it is his secret birthright, somehow ‘WWX died at Qiongqi Path’ went from being the central premise of this story, to being a thinly veiled excuse for JC to yell at people who look funny at his brother, no regrets tbh) not exactly a fit for the request but since there's no suggestions so far, WWX dies a little bit earlier and things play out very differently but it does have a coverup about his death

The Porcelain Lotus of Yunmeng by The Feels Whale (miscellea) (T, 16k, WangXian, JC POV, Amnesia, yunmeng bros reconciliation, Eventual WangXian, LWJ Is Not Okay, He gets better, Wangxian Reunion, LWJ pov)

it’s a long road but we’re not alone by Stratisphyre (M, 62k, WangXian, JYL & WWX, LWJ & LJY, JL & LSZ & LJY & OYZZ, Canon Divergence, Not Everyone Dies, Canon-Typical Violence, Parenthood, Grief/Mourning, Family Feels, Reunions, Golden Core Reveal, Getting Together)

~*~

5. Hi its me again for itmf fics that lwj is obsessed with and kidnaps wwx? Thankyou! @lunamooonn

Obelus by Celestios (Not rated, 167k, WangXian, SL/XXC, LXC/NMJ, JYL/JZX, Rape/Non-Con, non-con elements, NO rape, Non-Consensual Spanking, Non-Consensual Punishments, Spanking, Punishments, Dubious Morality, Dubious Consent, physical discipline, Physical Abuse, Toxic Relationships, Abusive Relationship, Kidnapping, Stockholm Syndrome, mention of violence, mention of drugs, Mention of alcohol, Possessive Behavior, Obsessive Behavior, Unhealthy Relationships, dark LWJ, Baker WWX, Bodyguard WN, Mentions of weapons, Gun mentions, Slow Burn, Long, Doctor WQ, Self Medicating, WWX has ADHD, Trauma Bonding, Psychological Manipulation, Gaslighting, Organized Crime, underground crime, Underground business, illegal business) please mind the tags

🔒 Fizz by inflight_gremlin (M, 3k, LWJ & WWX, Dark LWJ, Flight Attendant WWX, Obsessive Behavior, Modern, One-Sided Attraction, Obsessive LWJ, Kidnapping, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Supportive Sibling LXC, Stalking, Dark, One-Sided WangXian, Crime Boss LWJ, Extremely Dubious Consent, Non-Consensual Touching, non-con elements, Date Rape Drug/Roofies) please mind the tags

~*~

6. itmf: a) wwx taking care of the juniors like a mother hen b) shifter! AU (preference: fok! wwx, dragon! lwj, bottom wwx, mpreg)

thank you!

6A)

🔒 Not Yet (There As Needed) by sunrise_and_death (T, 13k, LSZ & WWX, JL & WWX, JL & LSZ, WangXian, Post-Canon, Family Feels, Family Bonding, POV LSZ, This Fic Has Everything, even more yearning, WWX & LSZ figuring out wtf their relationship is, Dramatic Revelations)

Still in the Water by airgeer (T, 45k, WangXian, JL & LSZ, Case Fic, Post-Canon, Angst and Humor, Hurt/Comfort, LWJ gets hurt in this one and it's weird for everyone, Fainting, but WWX is in the fic so of course there's fainting)

tell some storm by qurbat (G, 31k, wangxian, JC & WWX, LSZ & WWX, NHS & WWX, Post-Canon, Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, liberal amounts of outsider POV)

your name, safe in their mouth by astrolesbian (G, 10k, LSZ & WWX, WangXian, Father-Son Relationship, Injury, Hurt/Comfort, Post-Canon, More aligned with CQL than novel canon, Miscommunication, Eventual Positive Communication, Trying to be a family, how to tell your dad you want him to be your dad in 6 easy steps!)

6B)

To lurk, to lie in wait by trippednfell (M, 124k, WangXian, Modern with Magic, Huli Jing, strangers to co-parents to lovers, Strangers to Lovers, Dragons, Kid Fic, teenage juniors, background NieLan, Angst with a Happy Ending, Case Fic, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Not Really Character Death, Fox Spirit WWX, Dragon LWJ, Blood and Injury, Additional Warnings In Author's Note, [Podfic] To lurk, to lie in wait by raitala)

a siren's tail by sweetlolixo (M, 2k, WangXian, Dark Fantasy, Dragon LWJ, Siren WWX, Dark LWJ, Dark LSZ, Dragon LSZ, lying by omission, Manipulation, mpreg mention, Royalty, Happy Ending)

A Baby Dragon’s Guide To Seducing Your Huli Jing by sweetlolixo (M, 102k, WangXian, Fantasy, But still in the Cultivation World, Dragon LWJ, Fox WWX, Younger LWJ, Older WWX, Fluff, Humor, Eventual mpreg, Angst with a Happy Ending, Best Boy A-Yuan)

A Ribbon Of Hope by Liebing (T, 8k, WangXian, Foxxian, dragonji, Fantasy, Sweet, soft, Happy Ending, Childhood Sweethearts, Enemies to Lovers, Fluff, LXC is the best big brother, Confessions, Losing each other, Finding each other again, Misunderstanding, Jealousy, Drunk LWJ, ribbon swapping, talk of getting married, talk of baby fox dragons, betrothal, True Love, Soulmates, Pregnancy in the bonus chapter, child birth, Married Life, complications in pregnancy and childbirth but everything is fine, breast feeding)

what you have tamedby lianhua_lianzi, Senforza (E, 94k, WangXian, XuanLi, XiYao, Eventual 3Zun, Animal Traits, misunderstandings (not the romcom kind that can be resolved in a 5min convo), Courting Rituals, Pining, Lan family dynamics, Drama, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Arranged Marriage, Wangxian break up but get back together, Eventual Happy Ending, vague biological essentialism (animal species have different mating preferences), Canon Typical Alcohol Usage, Implied Mpreg, Top LWJ/Bottom WWX, Unresolved Sexual Tension, unintentional and eventually resolved “gaslighting”, Dragon LWJ, Fox WWX)

~*~

7. Looking for any selkie wangxian fics!! Thank you!

🔒never love an anchor by tardigradeschool (T, 31k, WangXian, Selkies, No Powers, Historical, Hurt/Comfort, Depression, Pining, Angst, Happy Ending, The Inherent Eroticism of the Sea, PTSD, Presumed Dead, Drowning)

The Tiger has Destroyed his Cage by updatebug (G, 54k, WangXian, JFM/YZY, Shapeshifters, Fix-it fic, Most people live, and the ones who don’t were aholes anyway, Animal Pelts, Tiger WWX, Found Family, adopted family, Yungmeng Siblings, LWJ is very confused, You can tell from his face, Canon appropriate angst and violence, Gratuitous OCs, If canon will not give me women I will make them, Jiang Sect) tigershifter!WWX that runs on selkie rules. One of my very favorite fics in the fandom <3

bring you home by Alasse_Irena (T, 27k, WangXian, Selkies, Modern with Magic, Pre-Slash)

Clothe Yourself in Beauty Untold by GhostySword (G, 5k, WangXian, Modern with Magic, Hurt/Comfort, Accidental Baby Acquisition, Angst with a Happy Ending, Mama Lan Feelings, Selkies, Selkie WWX, Kid Fic, Fairy Tale)

~*~

8. Hi! I’m in the mood for wangxian competency porn. You know, fics where one or both of them are just really freaking good at something, like night hunting or solving mysteries or any modern au equivalent. Just them being suuuper competent and likely turned on by how competent the other is.

🔒A Glimpse of Past Glory by masked (T, 1k, WangXian, Post-Canon, Swordfighting, BAMF WWX)

Zombies? Ridiculous. by relenafanel (T, 4k, WangXian, Modern with Magic, POV LWJ, WWX's Birthday, Meet-Cute, Meet Ugly (actually), Confessions, First Meetings, Falling In Love, Romantic Comedy, cultivation, zombie costume, Competency Kink)

🔒 (i've got) trouble in mind by seularen (E, 76k, wangxian, JGY/LXC, modern w magic, heist au, thief WWX, forger LWJ, consigliere JGY, epistolary, long-distance relationship, d/d elements, Canon wangxian kinks, happy ending)

🔒 when the sun goes out by travelingneuritis (E, 176k, WangXian, Modern Cultivation, tech cultivation, Necromancy, Angst with a Happy Ending, insecurity around adoption, Dad!WWX, dad!lwj, Grief/Mourning, Mistaken Identity, Mood Whiplash, Body Swap, sex tears!, Falling In Love, Consensual Somnophilia, apocalypse (localized), Smut, unrealistic sexual stamina, Flashbacks, Time Skips, Illustrations)

Fighting Chance by fyredancer (E, 15k, WangXian, Modern Cultivation au, Competition, Tournaments, Secret Identity, kinda - Wei Wuxian is very obvious, Competence Kink, Feelings Realization, Love Confessions, First Kiss, First Time, Hand Jobs, Frottage)

🔒 The Second Jade of Lan’s late but incendiary sexual awakening by KizuKatana (E, 41k, WangXian, First Time, LWJ’s Horny Grip, canon wangxian dynamics, college AU, LWJ starts off annoyed at WWX, But quickly discovers both his competency kink and a caretaking kink, Genius WWX)

varied my velocities by fantasiavii (E, 58k, WangXian, Modern AU, Ballerina LWJ, Football/Soccer player WWX, Enemies to Lovers, Top WWX/Bottom LWJ, Dom WWX, Angst with a happy ending, Internalized homophobia)

Lan Wangji is NOT a Sapiosexual by silverclaw (E, 5k, WangXian, Modern, Office Sex, Roleplay, Competence Kink, very light dom/sub undertones, LWJ is a brat, A side of strength kink as a treat, Bottom LWJ, Porn With Plot, LWJ is in fact a sapiosexual)

My chain hits my chest/When I’m bangin’ on the radio by x_los (T, 2k, WangXian, Case Fic, Modern with Magic, Competence Kink, YLLZ)

~*~

9. Hi! do you have any recommended lists of A) Wangxian fics with Slow Burn? with top lwj and bottom wwx?

B) or recommendations for Wangxian fics with pining Wei Wuxian? with bottom WWX and top LWJ!! please, and thank you so much!! 💗🙌🏽

9A)

Wrong Turn, Right Place by diamondbruise (E, 71k, WangXian, Time Travel, kind of, it’s more reality travel but there’s modern wwx and cultivator lwj, Mutual Pining, Angst with a Happy Ending, Jealousy, Idiots in Love, Slow Burn, Misunderstandings, Cultural Differences)

a light hidden and singingby occultings (microcomets) (E, 48k, WangXian, Arranged Marriage, Canon Era, Mutual Pining, Getting Together, Slow Burn, brief family abuse, mentions of wangxian’s canonical kinks, Misunderstandings, Blood and Injury, Rimming, Outdoor Sex, Blow Jobs, Anal Sex, First Time, Miscommunication, Canon Divergence, Happy Ending)

🔒 The Price of Old Wishes by SoManyJacks (E, 67k, WangXian, Minor canon divergence, Angst, POV LWJ, Depression, Suicidal Thoughts, Eventual Happy Ending, Eventual Smut, Slow Burn, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, semi-verbal!LWJ, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Implied/Referenced Suicide)

to hold the wind by androids_fighting93, artbysongs (E, 62k, WangXian, MianLi, Soulmates, Modern AU, Reincarnation, College/University, Slow Burn, Friends to Lovers, Mutual Pining, Hurt/Comfort, Disownment, LWJ Loves Rabbits, Touch-Starved LWJ)

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

Waiting for Spring by thievinghippo (E, 130k, WangXian, Modern AU, MLB AU, Baseball AU, Mutual Pining, Pining while fucking, slight angst, Happy Ending)

9B)

我們的明天; the story of you and me by xuanxuanwo (ostentatiouslyrealistic) (E, 73k, WangXian, Modern, Bookstore, College/University, Writer LWJ, Poet WWX, Exes to Lovers, Exes, Getting Back Together, Crossing Timelines, Mutual Pining, Pining WWX, Friendship, Family, Romance, Poetry, Misunderstandings, Angst with a Happy Ending, Minor Character Death)

🔒 Swing From the Gallows and Wave by NyxNuit (E, 126k, WangXian, Modern with Magic, They're not 'cultivators' they're Exorcists, Murder Mystery, does this count as crack?, featuring my attempts at humor, demon hunter AU, general amounts of absurdity, cameos from other MXTX characters, Major Character Undeath, the typical pining we expect from WangXian, Not a Slow Burn Tho, the usual gratuitous music references, and gratuitous pop culture references, Sexual Content, featuring Yunmeng Bros reconciliation)

Don’t Leave Me by TrippinOnSkies (E, 19k, WangXian, Modern AU, Marriage Proposal, Mental Breakdown, Hurt/Comfort, Fluff and Angst, Panic Attacks, But they are very mild, Overthinking, Good Sibling JC, Break Up, Gentle Sex, Gentle Kissing, Idiots in Love, Pining, Misunderstandings, Oblivious WWX, LWJ Has Feelings, LWJ is Whipped, Getting Together, NHS & WWX Friendship, Friends to Lovers, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy EndingInsecure WWX, WWX Has Issues, WWX Has Self-Esteem Issues, Sad WWX, WWX is Bad at Communicating)

a call to motion by vespertineflora (E, 14k, WangXian, Post-The Untamed, Post-Series, Boys In Love, Porn with Feelings, Porn With Plot, Love Confessions, Fuck Or Die, First Time, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Kissing, Boys Kissing, Multiple Orgasms, Dry Orgasm, LWJHas Feelings, Pining WWX)

~*~

10. Hi! ITMF fics where WWX knows LWJ really well. Kind of like "The Care and Keeping of Hanguang-jun: An Instruction Manual by Wei Wuxian" or that one fic where he writes a book on LWJ's expressions and what they mean. Just ones where WWX pays attention to LWJ's mannerisms very closely and kind of shows off how well he knows him. Thank you! I really adore and appreciate your blog.

shadows in the sun rise by Yuu_chi ( E, 24k, WangXian, Post-Canon, Night hunts, Curses, Intimacy, Light Angst with a Happy Ending)

The Meaning of Silence by The Silverfish (ZephyrAndTheSilverfish) (T, 14k, WangXian, Mind Manipulation, Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Pining)

the only way out by cafecliche (T, 12k, WangXian, JC & WWX, JC & LWJ, Post-Canon, this is one part character study, one part comedy of errors, and one part fix-it, WWX is a people pleaser in this essay I will, my event planning experience rearing its head again, the only way out [Podfic] by BrickGrass, [Podfic] the only way out by siriliyi)

~*~

11. Hello! For the next ITMF: I would love any recs for fics where Su She is an antagonist or just generally is annoying/causes any sort of issues for WWX or WangXian (I recently read Su She Eats his Heart Out by KizuKatana and loved it - so I'm looking for anything that's even vaguely similar lol) Thank you in advance! 💕

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

🔒🧡 rain falls and soaks into the earth series by RoseThorne (T, 60k, WangXian, WIP, Near Death Experience, Attempt Drowning, Madam Yu Bashing, Recovery, No war AU)

🔒💙 Wish I could forget the taste of your skin and the feel of your hands pinning me down by KizuKatana (E, 63k, WangXian, WQ & WWX & WN, weapons-grade thirst, Getting Back Together, Trying REALLY hard to not still like your Ex, but failing, BAMF WWX, BAMF LWJ, Canon Divergence, Modern Cultivation, Case Fic, LWJ’s canonically big dick, sort of a ‘thirsting for your co-worker ex’ vibe, it eventually gets worked out, Mutual Pining, Guest-starring LWJ’s canonically poor communication choices after romantic cave encounters, novel canon relationship dynamics, basically this fic is about escalating sexual tension)

~*~

12. Hello!

In the mood for fics like Holding Shreds by barisan,.. but where bodyswap happened while WY was in lotus pier and not only state of his body was revealed , but lz in his body suffered zidian punishment. And maybe neglect from healers and all that abusive jazz.

Thank you! @best-before-end

~*~

13. Hello! You guys are amazing! For whatever itmf this gets attached to, I'm looking for people's favorite Lan Sizhui POV fics. Modern, canon, wangxian or not, I'm not fussed. I just really like that kid and want to read more from him :) Thank you <3<3<3 @deathdefyinglifeleaps

to the act of making noise by words-writ-in-starlight (WordsWritInStarlight) (G, 19k, LSZ & LWJ, LSZ & WWX, WangXian, Grief/Mourning, Father-Son Relationship, inquiry, LSZ is the best of boys and I will not hear debate, Music, Angst, Fluff and Angst, Found Family, [Podfic] to the act of making noise by Ceewelsh, flamingwell, kisahawklin, Rionaa)

🔒 Dirty Water by Aki_no_hikari (G, 822, LQR & LSZ, Family, Fluff, righteous anger)

A-Yuan's Big Adventure by KatanaHatake (G, 21k, WIP, WangXian, Time Travel, transmigrator Wen Yuan, Found Family, Canon Divergence, Parents LWJ and WWX, People believing WWX birthed A-Yuan, Eventual Happy Ending, Accidental Baby Acquisition, Implied Mpreg, mdzs canon events) my fav fic about A-yuan and lots of chapters are in his pov

Picture Perfect by manaika (M, 22k, WangXian, WWX/Other(s), Past Relationship(s), Widower WWX, Grief/Mourning, Getting Together, Families of Choice, Family Feels, Stepfather WWX, WWX is the father who stepped up, LSZ is a Wei, Single Parent WWX, Asexual Character, Aromantic Relationship, Platonic Life Partners, it’s all in the past and only mentioned/discussed when relevant, Sex-Favorable Asexual WWX, Romance, Hurt/Comfort, Modern, Past Character Death, Food Intake Related Medical Issue (not what you think))

as i stumble homewards by the_pretzel (T, 27k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Canonical Character Death - WWX, Found Family, Food Issues, Trauma, Canon-Typical Violence, LSZ pov, Angst with a Happy Ending, Fluff)

🔒 Black and white by apathyinreverie (T, 10k, WangXian, Fluff, Gusu Lan Sect Rules, Protective LSZ, Protective LWJ, not particularly Gusu Lan friendly, parents wangxian, Mutual Pining, Oblivious WWX, Communication, Post-Canon)

Gathered Herbs & Sweet Grasses by hansbekhart (Not Rated, 19k, LSZ & LWJ, WangXian, dad wangji, LWJ’s Questionable Parenting Skills, Grief/Mourning, Recovery, Injury Recovery, Hopeful Ending, Canon-Typical Violence, Gathered Herbs & Sweet Grasses [podfic] by someplacelikebolivia)

🔒❤️ kick at the darkness ‘til it bleeds daylight by AlfAlfAlfAlfAlf, tardigradeschool (T, 75k, WangXian, Hurt/Comfort, Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Eventual Happy Ending, Getting Together, Burial Mounds Settlement Days, Inspired by The Parent Trap (1998), Kid Fic, teen shenanigans, two a-yuans, Fluff and Angst, [Podfic] kick at the darkness ‘til it bleeds daylight by contributor-sky (deepestbluesky), esbielle was also here (esbielle), glittercracker, GodOfLaundryBaskets, jellyfishfire, kisahawklin, Koontyme, Rionaa, semperfiona))

When You Wake, 怎能当梦一场 by acertainrogue (T, 39k, WangXian, WWX is in a coma, Angst with a Happy Ending, Modern AU, Single Dad LWJ, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Parenthood, YZY’s A+ Parenting, JFM’s A+ parenting, wangxian family) this is the best modern lan yuan POV imo!

~*~

14. For in the mood for could you recommend getting together fics that focus on lwj feeling hurt by wwx flirting/showing lots of affection because he thinks that wwx doesn‘t actually love him? Wether wwx knows that he‘s in love or is ignorant to his own feelings at first doesn‘t matter.

And then obviously i want the reveal that no, wwx wasn‘t taking advantage of lwj‘s feelings and kindness and being a huge tease but was simply ignorant/too scared to escalate into full relationship territory.

Both POVs are fine. I just need the pining while being very very close, like suspiciously so, but not outright romantic at first.

r/relationships by vespertineflora (T, 8k, WangXian, Modern AU, Social Media, Viral Reddit Post, Pining, Crushes, Friends to Lovers, Awkward Flirting, Romantic Gestures, Romantic Comedy, Love Confessions, Kissing, Happy Ending, r/relationships [podfic] by someplacelikebolivia)

my dreams are playing softer now by fleurdeliser (T, 8k, WangXian, Modern with Magic, Drunken Shenanigans, First Dates)

Some of You by tangerinechar (M, 60k, WangXian, Modern AU, Social Media, Actor AU, Idiots in Love, Mutual Pining, Fluff, Love Confessions, Matchmaking, Light Angst)

~*~

15. ITMF any completed, English fics that are canon divergence from the moment wwx resurrects as Mo xuanyu at Mo manor. Or even if it does follow canon mostly, slight changes to it (like say wangxian recognize each other at Mo Manor instead of Dafan Mountain etc). Thanks!!!! @chenqingmagic

💙 Love Song In Reverse by timetoboldlygo (T, 237k, WangXian, Amnesia, Canon Divergence, Angst with a Happy Ending, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Non-Sexual Intimacy, Falling In Love, Slow Burn, agressively mixing and matching novel and cql canon, No Homophobia, Mentions of Starvation, Parental WWX)

💖 Mo Money, Mo Problems by x_los (M, 3k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Getting Together, Confessions)

things we’re all too young to know by someitems (T, 11k, WangXian, Misunderstandings, Junior Ensemble Shenanigans, Mistaken Identity, Found Family)

~*~

16. Hi! Are there any fics where WWX meets CSSR and WCZ when he's an adult? maybe some time-travelling shenanigans or something. Or a fic where they come back alive, or something of the sort

The lark and the willow by Mhalachai (G, WangXian, CSSR/WCZ, Time Travel, Angst with a Happy Ending, Chief Cultivator LWJ, More parental issues than you can shake a stick at, make time travel have consequences you cowards, yunmeng bros reconciliation)

in a dream, i was home by thelastdboy (M, 25k, WangXian, POV LWJ, Canon Divergence, Post-First Siege of the Burial Mounds, Time Travel Fix-It, Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Cloud Recesses Study Arc, Different First Meeting, Getting Together, Friends to Lovers, Sentient Burial Mounds, CSSR and WCZ Live, Families of Choice, Protective LWJ, Everybody Lives, Temporary Character Death, Grief/Mourning, Cloud Recesses Shenanigans, WWX Leaves the Yunmeng Jiang Sect, Golden Core Reveal, Fluff, Developing Relationship, Wen Remnants Live, WQ Lives, WN Lives, No Sunshot Campaign, BAMF WWX)

The Return of Cangse Sanren by milesofheart (T, 52k, WIP, WangXian, CSR/WCZ, Canon Divergence, CSR & WCZ Live, Angst with a happy ending, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Burial Mounds days, BAMF CSR)

🔒 Love you always, in any form you come in by YumichanHamano (G, 7k, WangXian, CSSR/WCZ, Time Travel, Fluff, happy birthday wei wuxian!, he can have his parents back as a treat :) )

The Long Winding Road Home by Admiranda (T, 13k, CSSR/WCZ, WangXian, flash forwards, Time Travel, Post canon, WWX’s parents come to post canon mdzs, not for JC fans, fluffy family reunions, mocking LQR to his face, mocking JC to his face, wild rumors abound)

31 Steps to a Brand New Qishan Wen, the 9th installment of 💖 Magical Marriage Ribbons Series by starandrea (M, 37k, WangXian, Canon Divergencem Kid Fic, WWX's rattle drum, Burial Mounds, Shapeshifters, non-human sex (because they're shapeshifters), CSSE and WCZ Live, Family Reunions, Fox WWX, Dragon LWJ, Magical Animals, Four Guardians, Politics, Telepathy, Bondage, Rough Sex)

~*~

17. Itmf a fic which takes place in cloud recesses arc. Someone (not wwx himself like in the below mentioned fic) stalks wwx and has a grudge against him and finds a chance to assault him outside cloud recesses.

I read for the dust and the dirt and I can't remember if the itmf I mentioned is a fic or just something else.

obscura: ink stain by AvoOwO (M, 20k, wangxian, Cloud Recesses Study Arc, Canon Divergence, Emotions, Heavy Angst, Painting, Temporary Amnesia, Drugs, Drug Use, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Date Rape Drug/Roofies, Drink Spiking, Victim Blaming, LWJ Has Feelings, LWJ Has a Crush, Soft wangxian, Holding Hands, Blood and Violence, Good Sibling JC, Protective JC, WWX is a Mess, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Politics, Protective LXC, Good Sibling LXC, Good Uncle LQR, LQR Tries, OCs, It Gets Worse Before It Gets Better, WWX Needs a Hug, someone gets punched a lot, LWJ contemplates murder for a moment, JC almost gets it done, not quite about romance, as much as romance elements there, more so about the small things, LWJ loves how WWX smells, some nasty things are said, WWX def needs a nap, he gets one dw, LQR Gets Shit Done, NHS Is A Little Shit, Scheming NHS) not a perfect match but you might be interested

~*~

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

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

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makeitmingi · 9 months ago

Text

When Flowers Bloom In The Dark [Chapter 2]

Genre: Romance, Mafia!AU, Violence, Angst, Slow burn

Pairing: Hongjoong x Reader (y/n)

Characters: Florist!Reader, Mafioso!Hongjoong, Mafioso!Seonghwa, Mafioso!Yunho, Mafioso!Yeosang, Mafioso!San, Mafioso!Mingi, Mafioso!Wooyoung, Mafioso!Jongho

Summary: When you appeared and wept at his mother's funeral, Hongjoong found himself wanting to find out more about you. A regular girl, who owns a flower shop in his territory and has a relationship with the mother that he hasn't spoken to in years, why hasn't he ever noticed you before?

[Warning(s): 18+ for violence, use of weapons, smoking, alcohol consumption, slight gore, gang affiliation, tattoos and character deaths. Minors DNI. This is a work of fiction and does not represent the Ateez members in real life.]

Word count: 3.2K

With an iced tea in hand, you unlocked the glass doors of your shop and entered. You turned on the lights, placing your tea on the counter and your bag in your locker. Since you were the only worker here, there was no one else to use the lockers but you.

"Roses, tulips, carnations..." You grabbed your notepad to check the incoming deliveries today. The first thing you did was check on your plants and water them.

"You're growing well." You smiled softly, seeing the plant that you sprout, moving the pot away from the direct sunlight.

"(y/n)?" You heard the familiar voice of your supplier at the back door and went over.

"Good morning, Mr Lee. Do you have any surprises for me?" You giggled. You had a good relationship with all your suppliers, they always helped you bring in quality products.

"Well, besides your usual orders, I have some hydrangeas if you would like." He climbed into his truck.

"Here." He pushed the bucket to show you.

"Oh, they're absolutely beautiful. I'll take them." You smiled. He nodded and helped you bring everything in, he usually knew where everything went.

"Sunflowers aren't selling too well." You shook your head in disappointment, seeing your sunflowers there.

"Sunflowers aren't trendy anymore. Have you seen what's on the internet? My daughter told me that girls are content with just bouquets of baby's breaths now. How times have truly changed, right?" He chuckled with a click of his tongue. You nodded and moved the roses into the refrigerated area.

"It's a minimalist thing, no? Bigger isn't better anymore. No one comes in for traditional bouquets anymore." You sighed, going to the cash register to get the money.

"Tell me about it... And this should be everything." Mr Lee said, glancing over the flowers that he brought in.

"Thank you, this is the payment." You handed the money to him. He nodded and placed it in his pouch.

"Also, Mr Lee. I remember you mentioning that Mrs Lee keep getting her hands burnt when she's working at her restaurant. I made her an aloe balm. This should help soothe the burns." You held the tin out.

"Oh, you're too kind, (y/n). Thank you so much for making this." He patted your shoulder.

"Have a nice day. See you next week." You walked him out.

"See you." The both of you bowed to each other and he jumped into his van before driving off. You returned to your counter and began your work for the day.

"Let's see..." You checked the online orders that you had and printed it out for reference.

Moving to your work bench, you began to prepare the flower preparations for each other. You trimmed the stems, removed the excess leaves and cut thorns away before wrapping them up with either cellophane or tissue paper.

"Hello? Are you open?" The bell above the door jingled. A girl walked into store, carrying a pot with her. You cleaned your hands and walked out to the front.

"Yes, we're open. How can I help you?" You smiled.

"My fern seems to be wilting and I can't seem to revive it. Can you help?" She asked.

"Let's see what's the issue." You escorted in. She placed the pot on your work table and you inspected it. The girl patiently waited, watching you as you checked it.

"From what I see, the soil isn't draining water properly. It's retaining too much water and suffocating the roots of the plant." You said.

"What? Can that happen?" She blinked.

"Yes, so that suffocation prevents the roots from absorbing the vitamins and minerals. You should mix a well drainage soil of this ratio and move your fern in." You wrote the ingredients down.

"And I can find this at the plant store?" She asked, reading through what you wrote down.

"You should be able to find the components. But if you don't mind waiting, I can mix some for you to take home." You offered. Hearing that, she let out a sigh of relief and nodded her head excitedly. You went to your storage area to grab the different soil components that you need.

"Peat moss, sand and potting soil." You mixed the components into a bag, adding some fertiliser as well since the fern currently lacked essential nutrients.

"For two weeks, put two drops of this plant reviver into the soil even if you are not watering it." You handed her a small vial.

"Thank you. Actually, do you mind repotting it into the new soil for me? I'll pay you." She requested.

"Alright." You took the fern out and got rid of the old soil. You poured the new soil in, creating a well to put the fern in. After that, you loosely covered the roots with the soil.

"Done." You smiled, removing your gloves.

"Thank you. This is actually my mum's plant and I'm helping her take care of it. I know nothing about plants." She said in embarrassment.

"No worries, the plant should be fine from here. If there are anymore issues, you can come back." You chuckled and rang up her bill. She nodded and paid.

"Thanks again." She bowed and walked out of the shop. After that, you went back to preparing your orders. There were some pick ups today so you wanted to make sure that everything was in order for a smoother pick up.

"Hi, I'm here for a pick up?" A guy walked into the store.

"Sure, can I see your order number?" You asked. He showed you the confirmation email and went to retrieve his order. It was a flower box instead of a bouquet.

"Just make sure everything is okay for you before paying." You said, rounding the counter to the cashier.

"Do you mind changing the ribbons to pink too? She really likes pink." He requested.

"Of course." You grabbed the ribbon. With pink flowers, you wanted to add contrast with a different coloured bow but since he wants it to be pink, there was no issue with changing it.

"That's better. Thanks." He handed you his card.

"I wrote the congratulatory message as you stated in request email but if you'd like to write your own message. This is a spare card, on the house." You handed him the blank card.

"Thank you, I don't know what else to write but if I come up with something I'll add it." He rubbed the back of his neck with a sheepish smile. You hummed and rang up his bill, writing the invoice and handing him a copy, along with his credit card. With a grateful bow of his head, he left the shop.

Before you knew it, the clock hit 1pm, with customers coming in to buy, place advance orders or collect orders they've placed.

'Closed for lunch.'

You sat behind the counter with a tired sigh, taking out your lunch box. Your meals usually consisted of sandwiches or leftovers from dinner the night before.

Which was why Mrs Kim would usually come with food for you, always disapproving of how your eating habits.

RING!

"Sorry, we're closed at the moment." You said from behind the counter, not looking at the door. But you didn't hear the second ring of the door opening again so you stood up.

"Oh!" Your eyes widened in surprised as Hongjoong stood there, looking around the shop.

"Hongjoong sshi..." You blinked, maybe you were dreaming. Maybe your guilt was too much that the male was appearing in your dreams.

"Good afternoon, (y/n) sshi. Is this a bad time? Should I come back at another time?" He asked with a slight tilt of his head, fingers resting on the buttons of his blazer. You shook your head, reaching to get a tissue to wipe your mouth.

"It's fine. What can I help you with?" You came out from behind the counter to properly greet him. He patiently waited as you pulled a chair for him to sit.

"Please, would you like something to drink?" You offered.

"No, I'm fine. Actually, (y/n) sshi, I came to apologise for my reaction during my mother's funeral." He stood back up.

"What? There's nothing for you to apologise for, Hongjoong sshi. I should be the one apologising, I overstepped and said too much. It wasn't appropriate of me." You bowed deeply.

"You didn't overstep at all. Your intentions were good, I reacted poorly." He bowed back.

"No, you're grieving, it's normal." You smiled softly.

"Thank you for understanding." Hongjoong held his hand out but remembered that it was bandaged and cursed under his breath, hiding it and putting his other hand out for you to shake. If you were phased by his injury, you didn't show it. You smiled and slipped your hand into his to shake.

"I should go and let you carry on with your meal." He said once you both let go.

"No, it's fine. You can stay if you'd like." You smiled softly. He let out a small hum and continued to look around your shop, observing all the plants around.

"So, this is where my mother hung out?" He asked, picking up a stalk of rose from your work bench and twirling it.

"Sometimes... She would come for lunch or tea. We would just chat over food." You replied awkwardly.

How much were you supposed to say about Mrs Kim to her own son? You didn't want to sound like you were boasting about your time with her either, that wouldn't do any good.

"I see." He said, placing the flower back down.

"Hongjoong sshi..." You rubbed your arm, unsure of how to continue this conversation.

"Sorry for making you uncomfortable. Just... The truth is, you know a lot about my mother that I don't. You've spent time with her while I didn't so I can't help but feel curious. My relationship with her wasn't as good as she made it out of be." He informed.

"Oh. Hongjoong sshi, it's not my place to judge you or your relationship with Mrs Kim. Whatever relationship I had with her is vastly different from your own." You said.

"You're very kind, (y/n) sshi." He complimented. Your cheeks heated up in embarrassment.

"I should go." He stood up.

"Wait before you go. Your bandage, do you want me to help you replace it?" You pointed. Hongjoong looked down and saw the blood beginning to seep through.

"It's fine, I shouldn't take up more of your time." He shook his head.

"Not at all. I can help if you'd like." You offered. With a soft sigh, Hongjoong sat back down.

"I'll go get my medical kit. Be right back." You told him and went to the back room to get what you needed. You also took a salve that you usually used for wound care.

"I'm not a doctor but I am first aid certified and I study medical plants in botany so you don't have to worry." You smiled and took a pair of cutters to cut away the bandages that Yeosang had wrapped around Hongjoong's hand. Hongjoong quietly observed you, not saying anything else while you focussed.

"I made this salve for wounds. It should help with soothing the wounds and healing." You explained, cleaning the blood.

"Do you always make your own medicine?" He asked.

"No, I just make simple stuff. I'm still learning." You giggled, tucking your hair behind your ear before applying a thin layer of the salve over the cuts and wounds.

"Does it hurt?" You looked up at him. He shook his head and you sighed in relief.

"You can bring that home with you to apply when you change bandages. I have some more." You explained.

"You do a better job than my brother." Hongjoong said after observing how you properly wrapped a new bandage around his hand and secured it in place.

"You should remove the bandage after 3 days to let the wounds breathe and dry." You said.

The entire time, you never once asked Hongjoong about how he got injured or acted differently. You treated it like any other scrapped knee and healed him. Usually, people would be scared or ask him how he got injured like that.

"Thanks." He looked at his newly bandaged hand.

"You're very welcome. If you see signs of infection or get a fever, go to a doctor." You advised. He nodded and took the small pot of salve, putting it into his pocket.

Will he use it? Probably not. But he saw how dedicated you were and for some reason, didn't want to disappoint you by not taking it.

"Bye, Hongjoong sshi. I'll see you around?" You blinked at your own words, uncertainty in your voice.

"Have a nice day, (y/n) sshi." He didn't address it, merely bowing his head and leaving your shop. You let out a long exhale, feeling like you've been holding your breath the entire time.

"Ah!" You suddenly remembered the silk handkerchief that you had washed and in your bag.

"Too distracted." You scratched your head and went to the counter to eat a few more bites of your lunch before you had to reopen.

You were not too bothered that you hadn't returned the handkerchief to Hongjoong. Even if you did feel guilty, you had an inkling that you would be seeing Hongjoong again soon. What ate at you more was how foreign Hongjoong spoke about his mother, like she was a stranger that he didn't know.

"Hongjoong, where are you?"

"I went out to run an errand, Seonghwa. Don't worry, I didn't drive. I got the driver." Hongjoong sighed, sinking into the backseat of the Rolls Royce he was in.

"I'm not worried about that. I just wanted to make sure you didn't do something dumb like blow up a building."

"Geez that happened ONCE, let it go... And I'm going to work, I have to go to my club." Hongjoong said, looking at his bandaged hand.

"You don't have to go back to work right away, Hongjoong. The boys and I can take over while you take a few days. You've needed to take a break for a while."

"I'm the leader of Ateez, Seonghwa. I don't need all of you to take over my work." Hongjoong replied.

"But..."

"Yes, my mother died. But sitting around isn't going to bring her back to life. I still have roles to fulfill, I'm not going to let anyone strike us just because I'm down. There are people counting on us, relying on us." He continued.

"Alright. Stay safe then, Hongjoong. I'll see you at the docks meeting at 5pm?"

"Yeah, thanks Seonghwa. I'll see you later." Hongjoong hummed and hung up. The car stopped before Hongjoong's club and the manager came out, opening the door for him.

"Good afternoon, Mr Kim." The manager bowed. The club wasn't open yet so Hongjoong could get some administrative work done.

"Get me a drink and come up to the office." Hongjoong said, walking into the club.

"Yes, sir." He bowed. Upon his entrance, all the workers stopped and bowed down to greet their boss This was the main club Hongjoong worked out of so they were used to seeing him around.

"Give me 10 minutes. No one is to enter." Hongjoong told the guard who stood by his office door.

"Yes, sir." The guard bowed.

Hongjoong entered his office and sat down in his chair. There were some things he needed to do and catch up on privately, without any interruptions. As the leader of Ateez, he had to keep track of the other Ateez members and their work, on top of his own. But the boys always did their work so it wasn't hard on him.

*KNOCK KNOCK*

"S-Sir?" Hongjoong heard the timid voice of the club manager outside his door, making him look up from his phone where he was sending messages to Yunho.

"Has it been 10 minutes?" Hongjoong asked back, tucking his phone into his blazer pocket.

"Yes, sir." The male on the other side replied.

"Come in." Hongjoong said. The door opened and the male came in with his iPad and Hongjoong's whiskey in hand. Hongjoong nodded over to the chair and the manager bowed, taking a seat opposite him.

"Update me." Hongjoong took a sip of his drink. The manager began to update Hongjoong on the business.

"We have been thinking of letting our bartending apprentice go. He had been drinking on the job and getting drunk." He informed.

"Who?" Hongjoong leaned forward.

"This is his profile. The next page has some employee complaints and customer complaints that were logged." The manager informed, pulling up the ex employee's profile and handing it over to Hongjoong to look it over.

"I won't read this, let him go. I won't let anyone be caught lacking in my business. One complaint is as good as ten. Make him compensate for what alcohol he took." Hongjoong instructed.

"Of course, sir." The manager nodded, taking back the iPad and going through the other updates.

"Continue to manage necessary manpower and suppliers to the club. Revenue is still good." Hongjoong told him.

"I will. Thank you for giving me this responsibility, sir." The manager bowed from his seat.

"This is the list of VIPs coming. As usual, make sure they are well taken care of." Hongjoong slid over the list of VIP names and the dates that they would be coming.

"Of course." The manager folded the paper and put it in his pocket.

"You can go." With that, Hongjoong waved him off and he left. Hongjoong may seem cold and merciless but he treats his employees right, at least those that do their job well. He is a perfectionist and always wants the best, there shouldn't be anything that's lacking when it came to his business.

"Send Wooyoung and San for that private poker game. That's wheret they'll meet our informant." Hongjoong said to those that were in the group call.

"Oooh, I can get a new suit done." Wooyoung's focus and excitement was obviously on other things.

"What about the governor meeting that's coming up, hyung? Are you going with Seonghwa hyung?" Jongho asked.

"Seonghwa should go with Yunho. They know how to work the charm. Plus the governor's wife seems to favour Yunho." Hongjoong thought out loud, making the other laugh.

"No one can resist that face." Seonghwa chuckled.

"Yunho's ears just turned bright red." Yeosang informed and the others could hear Yunho's yell of protest in the background.

"Wait, what time is Seonghwa hyung and Hongjoong hyung settling the issue at the docks? I want to tag along, I could use some action. It'll be fun." Mingi asked.

"Oh! Me too! If Mingi's going, I want to go!" San agreed. Hongjoong could hear Seonghwa wanting to interject but it was ignored. Hongjoong and Seonghwa could never fight the younger ones, they were simply outnumbered.

"You guys always make a mess when you get involved... This time, call your own clean up crew." Seonghwa hissed.

"You gave in way too easily, Seonghwa ah." Hongjoong laughed and leaned back into his seat.

"I already have enough to think about. I have to pick my battles. Plus, if they can handle it for us, I won't risk getting blood on my new coat." Seonghwa said.

Series masterlist

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angelofthenight01 · 4 months ago

Text

The witch's guardian

Wanda Maximoff x Reader (AU)

genre: horror, fluff || warnings: lycanthropy, witch hunting, violence

The biting wind whips through the skeletal branches of the ancient forest, mirroring the turmoil within you. Your breath comes in ragged gasps, each one a painful reminder of the curse that claws at your soul. The moon, a malevolent eye peering through the swirling clouds, fuels the beast within. Tonight, the change is coming. You can feel it, a burning tide rising in your veins, contorting your bones, reshaping you into something monstrous.

You stumble through the undergrowth, thorns ripping at your worn leather tunic, the scent of damp earth heavy in your nostrils. You abandoned the village days ago, fleeing the terrified whispers and the glint of fear in the eyes of those who had once called you neighbor. They knew, or suspected, a truth you had tried so hard to conceal. The truth of the moon’s hold on you, the monstrous transformation that consumed you under its gaze.

You sought refuge in this dark wood, hoping to outrun the terror, or at least contain it on your own. You find a small clearing, a meager sanctuary, and collapse against the gnarled trunk of an ancient oak. The transformation begins, a horrifying symphony of crackling joints and tearing flesh. You writhe and howl, the sound lost in the symphony of the wind. Claws sprout from your fingers, your teeth lengthen into fangs. Fur bursts through your skin, a coat of thick, dark fur, a shield of shame and revulsion. Finally, you’re no longer a person, no longer human. You are a beast. A werewolf.

You pace, your heart a frantic drum against your ribs, your senses heightened tenfold. Every rustle of leaves, every snap of a twig, is amplified into a symphony of fear. The forest, once a haven, now feels like a cage. You are both predator and prey.

Days blur into nights. You scavenge for food, the taste of blood and raw flesh filling your mouth, a stark reminder of the monstrous life you’re forced to lead. You learn to navigate the forest in your beast form, becoming a part of its shadows, a creature of the night. The human you once were feels like a distant memory.

One evening, under a sky bruised with twilight, you catch a scent unlike any you've encountered before. A scent as intoxicating as wildflowers, a lingering note of smoke, and something…else. Something ancient and powerful. It draws you in, pulling you past the usual boundaries of your forest territory, toward an isolated glade bathed in the ethereal glow of twilight.

There, beneath a canopy of ancient trees, stands her.

Wanda.

Even in the dwindling light, her beauty is undeniable. Hair as dark as raven's wings frames a face of sharp angles and mesmerizing emerald eyes. She stands with an air of quiet power, a collection of herbs and strange stones arranged around her in a circle. She is a witch, that much is clear from the aura that radiates from her, and even in your feral state, you know it.

She doesn't flinch at your appearance, doesn't recoil or scream as other humans have. Instead, her gaze meets yours, holding a curious mixture of assessment and understanding. It’s both unnerving and captivating. You find yourself stopping, the instincts that drive you as a wolf warring with an unexpected desire for her approval, or rather, her understanding.

Slowly, you approach, your steps wary but driven. You lower your head slightly, a gesture of submission that feels both instinctive and strange. Wanda watches, her expression unreadable until she offers a slight tilt of her head, a gentle acknowledgment of your approach.

“You're hurting,” she says, her voice low and melodic, a soothing balm to the beastly rage that still rumbles in your chest. “And confused.”

You whimper softly, a sound that holds the pain of your existence.

She moves, but instead of fear, she reaches out, extending a hand towards you, her fingers long and elegant. Hesitantly, you lower your snout until it’s close to her palm. She slowly, and with intention, places her hand on your snout. The touch is brief, a featherlight caress, yet it sends a ripple of warmth through your snarled muscles, a calming wave that soothes the edges of the beast within.

"I can help you," she murmurs, eyes never leaving yours. "But it won’t be easy.”

You look at her, and she at you, and from that moment onwards, you know that your life will change.

Over the next few weeks, you find yourself drawn to her glade each night. It’s the only place where the beast feels manageable, where the pain of your condition feels less like a curse and more like a weight you might learn to carry. Wanda helps you understand the nature of your lycanthropy, teaches you to recognize the triggers, and the slow ways of controlling it. She guides your beastly nature to an equilibrium. She uses herbs and her magic to soothe your mind, eases the transformations.

You, in turn, become her protector. Your wolf form is a fierce guardian, a shadow that lurks in the forest, watching her, keeping her safe. During those long nights, you learn of her history, of her isolation, and her unwavering commitment to the forest and its secrets.

You learn to anticipate the hunt, the growing murmur of human voices and clashing steel that means they've come for her. When the scent of men, their fear and greed, floods the forest, you become a dark whirlwind of fur and teeth. You emerge into the glade, a terrifying figure, and stand between the intruders and Wanda. They've come for the witch who lives in the forest, because they fear that which they don't understand.

Their torches flicker, casting grotesque shadows on their faces. They’re armed with pitchforks, axes, and hunting knives, their eyes filled with a mix of fear and bloodlust. They’ve come to destroy her, and you will tear them apart first.

A roar rips from your throat, a challenge to their presence. You stalk forward, your fangs bared, your eyes glowing with an unnatural light. They hesitate, their bravado faltering in the face of the true predator you have become.

One man, larger than the rest, steps forward, brandishing a rusty axe. “Monster!” he shouts, his voice trembling. “We’ve come for the witch!”

You charge, a blur of speed and rage. You lunge past the axe, your teeth sinking into his fleshy arm. He screams, dropping the weapon, and stumbling back with a terrified yell which echoes through the forest.

The others attack, but you are too fast, too strong. You tear through their ranks, your claws ripping at their clothing, your teeth sinking deep into flesh. You feel a primal exhilaration, a savage joy in the violence you inflict, and you fight with a ferocity born of protective rage. You feel as if you could tear down trees and mountains, you could destroy worlds just to protect her.

You let out a terrifying roar, one that comes deep from your lungs, a primal beast sound that sends them scattering back into the shadows. Your teeth grind against one another, itching for some flesh. Some bones to crush.

They flee, abandoning their weapons, their fear palpable on the wind. You stand panting, your fur matted with blood, the scent of human fear heavy in the air. You turn back to Wanda, and she stares at you with a strange mix of pride, trepidation, and something that could only be called love. Her eyes, though wide, are full of care and adoration.

The night is cold, silent, after the cacophony of the battle, yet in the calmness you see yourself for the first time, see the power, the strength, the protector. You have given into the beast, but you’ve done it for her. You have torn them to shreds for her, defended her with your life, and she recognizes it all.

“You protected me.” She says, her voice barely above a whisper.

You nod, lowering your head, and transform back to a human again. The shift takes its toll on your body, but you're used to it, and you know she'll fix your wounds. You stand before her, naked, drenched in blood, your body scarred and twisted from the transformations, but she takes your hands anyway.

“I know,” she says. “And I am eternally grateful.” She pulls you in, her touch light, yet you feel as if you're being embraced by the sun. "Let’s clean you up. I have some herbs that will soothe the wounds of the body and the soul.”

You allow yourself to be led into the hut, the only place where the beast in you feels at peace, where the human you once were can breathe again. You know that future battles await, that the men will return, and there will always be those who fear the power of Wanda, whom they call a witch. But you will be there. You, the protector, the beast she now understands. Together, you will face the darkness, you, the monstrous protector, and she, the powerful magician, united by a forbidden forest and a love forged in the shadows.

#wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff #scarlet witch x reader #scarlet witch

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frostbitebakery · 2 years ago

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There’s a room where the Light won’t find you

Surrender AU

There are certain misconceptions when it comes to the… the them of them, Cody has to admit.

“I would like to have proof of life of my General,” he says instead of answering the same question the Commander has asked him twice now. The statement sits uncomfortable under his breastbone. He lost count how often he’s had to say it in his life.

“Are you that codependent,” the replica of his mouth snarks back. Curious, usually he and his counterparts have more patience than this.

The answer to that is a definite yes. Obi-Wan and he, they’re woven together. Only Obi-Wan’s lightsaber could cut them apart. He wonders where it is after they’ve taken it from its resting place above his heart.

“You’ll protect it,” Obi-Wan had asked, voice cracking and begging, closing Cody’s palms around the weapon’s hilt. It had been after Ghost had rescued them from that hellhole, after Obi-Wan’s hands had become too weak to wield his lightsaber despite the trials of reconstructive surgeries and physical therapy.

“Like your life,” Cody had sworn, lips finally not sore anymore from the ripped out stitches, the punishments from their captors that were so much more effective when delivered on Cody than Obi-Wan himself.

“I would like to have proof of life of my General,” he says again.

The Commander pushes out a sigh. “He’s… okay.”

Debatable. Cody isn’t there and no one knows - can know - how Obi-Wan’s hands spasm after a while, how his knee is acting up. How his grip on himself has been slipping, recently. The tight control even in the chaos had held steady for so long. Because even changed like this, Obi-Wan has been a master of his own self. Until they found these counterparts at least.

They’re so Light, hammers into Cody’s head.

“General Kenobi is asking him some questions himself,” the Commander states like he’s dangling bait.

Cody sincerely wishes him good luck with that. Getting an answer to “What do you want for breakfast” is a discovery of heretofore unknown wells of patience and the higher ground most days. Honey toast, by the way. “I would like to have proof of life of my General.”

Cody, they’re so Light. Obi-Wan is alone with a beacon to the Light he’s been desperately searching for in dozens of universes. He will do something well-thought-through and stupidly risky.

The Commander watches him for a few long moments, and Cody watches right back. He doesn’t smirk in triumph when the Commander activates the comm on his vambrace.

“General, could you put—,” Cody’s mouth twitches at the Commander’s faltering, the steeling for the reality of them, “the Sith on the comm?”

A moment later Obi-Wan is in the holo. Bound but whole, because the good guys don’t believe in torture. “Are you alright?” he asks, sickly golden eyes roving over what the holo displays of Cody.

Cody smiles, softening further once Obi-Wan echoes him with his own. “Yes. You?”

There’s misconceptions about them. Other people’s delusions of knowing them seem to think Obi-Wan and he can only be brutal, be cruel and harsh. Towards everyone else, and towards each other. Trapped in a bloody dance or something rivaling that kind of stupid. Those people don’t, thankfully, know the gentleness flowing through their touches. They kiss the other in reverence, soft and precious monster. What is between them, a connection forged in blood and pain, is anything but. It’s the one thing where they’re truly selfish. Holding each other close, burrowed into each other.

When Obi-Wan had asked him what he wants, the answer had been simple and sprouting thorns.

“You,” Cody had answered, sure and steadfast.

Obi-Wan had almost flinched, cane scraping over the floor. “Even as I am now?”

Always. At every second their lives had existed in orbit to each other. Every possible face Obi-Wan had worn, Cody had wanted him. But— “I think,” he had replied, stroking the paper-thin grey skin under a yellow eye, “this is the only version I’m allowed to have.”

“I miss you,” Obi-Wan says on the holo, and Cody goes cold.

“Obi-Wan, don’t—“

The connection winks out and he knows that it was Obi-Wan, that the Force suppression cuffs must have some fault he detected and exploited.

He whips his head up, urgency clocking in inside his chest and ticking. “Stun him,” he grits out, just to not yell, and startles the Commander. “Make him unconscious any way necessary.” He swallows. “But please don’t kill him.” I need him.

#surrender au #codywan #commander cody #dark!cody #obi wan kenobi #sith!obi wan #my art #frostbitebakery art #sw fanart #star wars au

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residents-of-the-darkforest · 1 year ago

Note

Fleetsong and Dawnmoth kit name ideas

Mousetuft for the eldest

Sunflame for the younger daughter

Thornshade for the only son

(hopefully I got the order right xdd)

big brain: mouse, sun, and thorn were the first three words Fleetsong learned to sign

'Thorn' would likely be a front paw raised with the pad upward, like how you show it when taking a thorn out.

'Mouse' would be something like twitching whiskers and biting the lip with the front teeth (Dawn probably wasn't thinking when she asked him what he wanted to eat, and he responded with the only thing he could think of).

For 'sun', he would probably just point at the sun. If it's night, he would touch something yellow-orange (usually Dawnmoth's fur) and then reach high.

#fleetsong #dawnmoth #sunflame #thornshade #mousetuft #children that never were #sprouting thorns au

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lunarthing159 · 6 months ago

Text

[ Gunshot, Rosette, & Canvas ]

A VSAU-AU Fanfiction For @rhapsoddity And Community.

Characters: Sheriff/Jimmy, Wither/Sausage, & Spectrum/Scott

Content Warnings: Detail of Injury, Non-Consensual Hypnosis, & Hot AU Men (Thanks Rhaps).

Extra Tag; @wilbygoesbrrrr Take Your Villain Saus Man

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Stillness.

It was all so still.. quiet.. tranquil..

Almost too much so for The Sheriff's tastes. This place is usually bustling with villains, or even simple criminals by this hour.. yet still.. nothing..

Heroes rarely ventured into the alleyways of this part of Empires City, it was labeled 'not of immediate concern' a long time ago and hasn't changed since. "Tch, figures." He would scoff under his breath at the thought. The whole job of heroes is to help people, and yet they ignore the areas that most need help. Typical, unfortunately.

Oh well, that means more work for The Sheriff to do instead. Hooray!..

Making his way from rooftop to rooftop using his lasso, Sheriff scoured his usual rounds, checking each and every alleyway for even the slightest motive. Even hours later, as he was already slowing down and yawning along the way, he kept searching.

He kept moving.

He kept slowing down.

He kept watching.

He kept yawning.

He kept looking.

He kept rubbing his eyes.

The Sheriff kept Searching

And the searching would seem to pay off.

A simple paper, tucked away in an alleyway corner. A letter, it would seem. The alley walls were lightly coated in city moss, adorned with glass panels & windows leaned onto the sides at the dead-end.

Bingo.

Sheriff decended down from atop the building, using his lasso for the first half and some ladders for the second. "There we go!" Picking up the paper, it read as follows;

To my newest accomplice,

I presume your travels have been well. As I last heard of you, all things are set on your end of our plan. The target has been found, we can begin stage two.

Turn around~

There was no time to react.

The moss along the alley walls came to life in an instant, rushing out towards the sheriff. There was no time to dodge. There was no time to flee. Within moments, he found himself bound within the vines, sprouted thorns digging into his clothes and skin.

And he knew exactly who was causing this.

"Hello there, little cowboy."

Wither. The Thorned Rosebush. The Garden of Decay. The Mania Flower.

He wore a scarlet red mask to cover his eyes and a shirt of the same hue, buttoned down just enough to where his upper chest was visible. He adorned a navy coat that flowed down to his knees with a collar that perfectly framed his medium-length brunette hair and beard. And his smile,,, one that terrified the souls of many, any, & all who have found themselves in his path and wake.

No matter his title to you, you only had one option,,, one chance of survival...

To Run.

Sheriff spent as little time as he could to collect his words, even as his body was thrown into the ground and his arms were bound above his head. He did his best to keep up his usual demeanor, to not showcase his fear,,, his terror. "Well hello there, I know I've shown myself to be a fan of ropes, but this is no way to showcase your own~"

"Oh?" Wither seemed to inquire, only stepping closer. Sheriff prayed the other didn't see the nervous gleam his eyes have no doubt obtained. "Then just how should I show you? Just how much would you like to see~?"

Oh. Oh Sheriff was in over his head. Wither kneeled right infront of him, not in some act of bowing, but as almost a tease, a taunt, a flaunt and display of the other's power in this situation. Sheriff darted his eyes around them, looking for any exit to this situation.

Sheriff let out a cry, the vines tightened, but only around his skin. The thorns dug deep into the flesh, drawing blood and loosening just enough to let him bleed. Dispite the many pains Sheriff has found himself in, he couldn't prevent tears welling up in his eyes. They were trapped there because of his mask, and the salt began to burn, bringing more tears to trap themselves.

"Adorable, do keep up the act, vigilant. Your suffering is delicious." Wither would taunt him, bringing a single finger to swipe across his cheek, causing another wound. Only a small slash, but it was all adding up to the pain Sheriff felt.

It was all too much, even for him,,, the act could be kept up no longer. "Stop,,," it felt so pathetic to beg, but he had no other choice. He couldn't try and writhe out, it would only dig the thorns farther into his arms, legs, & torso. He can only sustain so much damage and guarantee he can make it home. It's all he could do,,, all he could do was beg.

And Wither would only seem to grin wider at his suffering. Perhaps he actually did feed from pain? Who could say. "Don't you worry, I have no intentions to hurt you further. Keep your eyes open, Sheriff. It's time for stage 3~"

What?

And there it was, just outside his peripheral, endless colors began to warp where there was previously only darkness. The visuals creeped into his sight, coating the world around him in shifting and spiraling hues. There was nothing to stay latched on to. There was nothing to stay grounded to. There was nothing to stay focused on. It ate away at his focus, only intensifying every moment it stayed. And Sheriff knew exactly who was working together now.

"Hello there, Rosette~. It seems you've done your part rather well."

"no No NO-"

Not him, not them- anyone but Them.

But it was them. It was, in fact, Wither & Spectrum,,, working together... for... what? What would they need? What could they want? What,,, does Sheriff have to do with this? He,,, didn't know.

And somehow, that terror,,, it distracted him. The world around him began to shift, nothing stayed the same too long. He could hardly make out the walls of the alleyway anymore, only colors,,, endlessly shifting colors,,, endlessly moving colors,,, endlessly spiraling colors,,,

It was... mesmerizing, and any normal person would have fallen victim right here and now. But Sheriff wasn't normal, at least not like this. There had to be a way out, he had to stay strong-

Wither moved to be behind him, wrapping his arms around The Sheriff in a grapple almost adjacent to a hug. Sheriff struggled to not lean into this embrace. Spectrum made his way infront of The Sheriff, gently cupping the other's face within his palms. Sheriff desperately tried to avoid looking as deep as he could into such beautiful eyes. Both villains whispered words to The Sheriff, he tried not to listen, he couldn't hear them, he listened, he couldn't make out what they were saying.

"Hush, --wboy"

"J--- -isten"

"-o thin---g"

"Relax n--"

"D--'t str--gle"

"Fall~."

And fall he did, ever so simply. The colors coated his mind so easily, covering up any thought he may have had and preventing him from forming new ones. They kept swirling in his vision, trapping his mind within it's spirals, falling farther and farther down. All will of fight left his limbs, falling limp within the hold of the one behind him. The world and all in it seemed to fade away as he kept falling further away from it.

His mouth would stay gently open, no tension to keep his jaw closed. His eyes would lose focus, not looking at anything in particular as the world itself seemed to escape him. No thoughts to form, no form to fight, no fight to give. The Sheriff, He could only Be.

Mossy vines untangled themselves from his flesh, retreating back to their posts along the alley walls. Two grins faced the empty husk of a figure, as they knew their plan had succeeded. The bright magenta hue that overwhelmed a previous eye color spoke it all.

They just got a new little puppet~

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Ello! Thanks For Reading! Hope Y'all Enjoyed Your VSAU-AU Villain Yaoi Scosage / Toxic Flytrap Husbands Content :>

#vigilante sheriff au #vsau #vsau fanfiction #empires smp au #vsau sheriff #vsau spectrum #vsau sanctuary #Not Really But I'll Still Tag It #vsau au wither #Lunar Writes Stuff

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brandwhorestarscream · 7 months ago

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Megop but hanahaki disease AU 😳

Both of them slooowly getting sick, a constant tickle and itch in their ventilation systems that cant be soothed no matter how much hot energon they drink, no matter what kind of medication they take. On opposite sides of the war, as the casualities grow so does the longing, the regret, the sparkbreak. And as the rift between them grows deeper and deeper, their internals are filling up with thorns and pods. Optimus develops a persistent choking, wheezing cough, and despite energon samples and scans Ratchet cant find any reason for it. Megatron is the same, stubbornly powering through his illness.

Crystal vines and thorns begin sprouting inside of them, roots digging into their spark chambers and beginning to slowly, painstakingly slowly, crush them. It progresses over centuries, spark crystals squeezed by strangling vines as the hanahaki grows worse and worse the more they miss each other.

During one of his coughing fits, alone in his room, Optimus suddenly gags. Blood--not undigested energon, blood--flies past his lips and he chokes on something hard and sharp, scraping his throat. He spits it out, blinking in surprise down at the unmistakable shape of a crystal rose, heavily drenched in energon blood, laying cradled in his cupped servos.

The diagnosis is extremely dire. The disease has spread through the vast majority of his body: crystal flora don't show up on scans, invisible to them because of their unique physical attributes, but once Ratchet opens him up and takes a look at his internals, they're everywhere. The strangling crystal flowers are in most of his vital organs, root system spread through and plunging into mainlines and sidelines, siphoning his energon to feed the parasitic plant. They're so heavily entwined with Optimus's body, growing on him, in him, a part of him, that trying to remove them would require surgery lasting multiple days. And even then, he'd be in recovery for months, and that’s only if he survives. Treatment wouldn't even be permanent, doomed to relapse within a few years time because they cant remove the plant's heart. The heart of the root system, the main bulb, has wound itself tightly around his spark where it originated. The bulb is inside his spark chamber, fused with the protective crystal casing. The roots are jammed in in a thousand different places, in a massive spiderweb network. Cutting them off and removing them would irreversibly damage his spark chamber, and he would swiftly perish afterwards.

The best Ratchet can do is treat him for a temporary reprieve of the symptoms, but he can't cure him. Can't save him. There’s only one cure for hanahaki disease, and Optimus knows it's impossible for him. Hanahaki stems from unrequited love and a broken spark longing for the object of it's desires: the only thing that could save him would be to reunite with Megatron 😌

#megop #megatron #optimus #hanahaki au in the year of our lord 2024?? more likely than you think lmao #extra bonus points if megatron has had the treatment several times and knows hes shortening his own life #but hes so miserable and in such denial he doesnt care

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neverpathia · 4 months ago

Note

"come, quench my boredom," oh, I sure will:

How about some Thorn for the character list game? >:]

FIE! HAVE AT YOU. HAVE AT YOU ALL.

I'm probably not gonna be getting at these as fast as I'd like. Clearly I had a lot to say about Para but at least he's out of the way, and now Thorn...Damn you, Everest Gale. Damn you. (I have gotten my vengeance with the Paranoid ask on you, though. My time had come.) /lh

[checks who's up next] OH COME ON BROKEN TOO?? MY THREE FAVOURITES IN THAT ORDER???

With that said. This one's probably going to be a little bit short because I've thrown out all my energy on that Paranoid post + analysis lol. Sorry, my beautiful creature plant wife, you deserve so much better.

favourite thing about them

I rummage through every facet of her character and I...don't pull my hands out from the drawer, because it's that hard to choose.

But if I really do have to pick, I'd probably go for her character development and what it represents. The Thorn, as a chapter, tells you that things don't have to end at hurt. That there's always hope, even after you act and react, and act and react, and act and react again. That pain isn't the end. That the cycle doesn't have to keep moving, because it can always be halted. That it's never too late to let go and start anew.

And that doesn't mean that the pain was insignificant, because yes, it's always been there. Inflicted, passed on, released outward, turned inward. If dismissed away, it could grow and remain forever. But it could also be dispelled, and one could finally heal.

I'll also point out that she's absolutely adorable, pretty as all hell, and just smoking hot. Because she's the fucking Thorn. And the sheer symbolism—the way the roots of the wild sprout anew and morph into prickles, contorting around herself when she directs her pain inward. The way she finally sees her poppies for the first time when you both let her recover. I'll be fucking sick.

least favourite thing about them

A single crow glides across this part of the post, idly dropping a single white splatter before fluttering away with three wing-flaps. Nothing to see here, carry on.

(I'm very lax when it comes to others' Thorn characterization, because I never really get her character right myself. But it doesn't bother me too much because I rarely post Princess content anyway. And I do think I'm improving with her writing.)

favourite line

"I'm so tired of the bad blood between us. But it's hard to let it go. You've hurt me. ... And I've hurt you."

I think this just encapsulates so much about her arc. She doesn't want this horrible cycle to keep happening anymore. And she's just as accountable as you are. But at the same time, that doesn't mean she's not reluctant. It's all she's ever known at this point, and it certainly doesn't help that the grievances between you still exist either way.

She's not letting her guard down so easily, not here and certainly never as the Witch. But she wants to try. It's hard, but she's already so resigned. And she does want it to stop.

Also she sounds so tired here and it's kind of hot but you can still hear the guilt, the grief, the single sliver of hope...Thorn I really do love you. Thorn, I love you Thorn. Marry me Thorn. Thorn-

brOTP

Thorn and Cage. They're the two most prominent princesses in my post-construct AU (alongside HEA and Razor. sorry Cheated) and they're definitely close as all hell. Both of them get how it is to be trapped in a hopeless cycle, and how it is to break it.

They're like a cat and an office lady. Thorn spontaneously finds stuff in the woods and brings, say, a dead rat to Cage's doorstep for the sake of friendship. Cage dangles a chain over Thorn's head and she gleefully swipes at it.

Thorn twirls around in a flower field as Cage sits in place and smiles, weaving stems into a flower crown. Then Thorn slides onto her stomach beside her, observing as she playfully kicks the dirt. She's a very whimsical lass.

And let's not forget the scars. Cage is always there for the sudden aches and pains, and she's always there to soothe them with some salve and bandage them with meticulous precision. As for Cage's disembodied head...Thorn did try to seal it back together with a few slivers of plant stem, but it never holds for very long. Not for lack of trying, though. They're always best friends.

Thorn is so whimsical and Cage is so stoically silly and oh my god yes. Just yes. And they're both pretty women.

otp

Cheated x Thorn. I've gone over this before but holy shit I love them. They're the ship I've probably drawn the most? I'm pretty sure. I'm definitely not projecting onto Cheated. Don't look at my current account theme.

But either way I really love them together. Just a couple of flawed, faulty people who have been hurt and chosen to hurt in turn. And yet they're changing. And yet they're recovering. They can't find much solace at all, but they're learning to find peace and sometimes that's enough. The little moments they share are few and far between but so very cute and cathartic and- squealing.

But Cheated isn't immune from Thorn's catlike, playful side either. She randomly paws softly on his coat for no reason. She sits cross-legged on his unfinished game of solitaire. And he actually isn't too mad about it, no matter what his lighthearted grumbling might suggest.

However, they both have trust issues and aren't prone to surprising each other that much. This is another one with horrible will-they-wont-they tension. Thorn eagerly brings him little gifts (some less necessary than others) and tells him she loves him so many times a day, but when it comes to actual physical affection...it takes her a lot of courage. But then she kisses him. And then he, flustered beyond all hell, completely short-circuits.

It's a bit like sunshine x grumpy, although it's also chaos x chaos. Both of them are unhinged. They match each others' freak.

nOTP

Mai (@/hello-universe-lovers) would be very disappointed in me. Dramatic drumroll: Oppythorn.

Well, this is a hundred percent attributed to how I write these fucks because, dramatic reveal: My Opportunist is gay. Achillean. MLM. Swings the other way. He's so fruity Disney-villain coded, so how could I not? (No hate to the gays, by the way. I have better gay voices.)

But my version of these two can't be left alone in a room without engaging in a silent dirty-look competition and shooting obscene gestures at each other (if Smitten is present) or devolving into a dishonourable brawl (if Smitten is absent.) He doesn't understand how Thorn's attempting to redeem herself. Thorn doesn't want to engage with him and return back to those dark times.

They hate each other, but they are mirrors. One retreating further into the dark, one letting herself reach for the light. Opportunist is everything that the Thorn wants to leave behind. They're like toxic exes to me.

random headcanon

If Witch is feral, Thorn is domesticated. She purrs when you give her back scritches. She randomly plops herself down on your table for no reason. She finds boxes and wordlessly declares them her new home. And she does not like baths (though she's willing to sit through it if she trusts you enough. And after a while, she begrudgingly appreciates how the water soothes her scars.)

Just because she's perfectly capable of sitting down with you over a cup of tea and holding a conversation, doesn't make her any less of a chaotic little creature.

At the same time, she desperately tries to be kind anytime she can. She bombards the people she likes (especially Cheated) with gifts and favours. She tries to use kind words, but sometimes she hesitates for too long trying to find the nicest thing to say. She's still trying to grapple with the notion that conversations aren't battlegrounds. No more scheming and plotting. Just words. Just people.

I also like to think that her control over the thorns is actually pretty high. As in epic-anime-fight-scene level high. Thing is, in-game she's too dejected and tired to actually excise any control over them by the time you see her, so she just sits there helplessly in this prison of her own making. She sealed herself in there. She didn't even know if she deserved to escape, and she certainly didn't think so. God. Love you.

unpopular opinion

I'll just echo what everyone else says. She's not just a softie; she still has her claws. People need to remember that she stemmed specifically from Witch.

We need more creature Thorn content.

Maybe she's deliberately trying to be more civilised and get rid of her cat-like mannerisms. Perhaps she gets a little bit embarrassed when she's caught engaging in kitty stuff, and quickly corrects herself. Or maybe she just doesn't care. Being a scrunkly little creature doesn't have to interfere with rehab, right?

song that reminds me of her

For some inexplicable reason, Sweater Weather reminds me of her. Maybe it's the voice, I don't know.

Love Like You and I'll Call You Mine also strike me as pretty Thorn-coded, though I'm frankly not that good at picking out songs for characters.

favourite image

Oh I am so glad you asked because-

LOOOOOOOOOK AT HER SHE'S SO PRECIOUS AND THOSE EYES THOSE DOWNCAST EYES THE SHEER GRIEF AND REMORSE AND THE WAY SHE'S STILL CLUTCHING AT THE KNIFE DESPITE IT ALL AND- dead.

Special mention goes to these, though.

Godddd she looks so cute and defiant in the last two, and so small, and so vulnerable, and so adorable, and so-

Yeah. I think I'll leave it here as I proceed to scream to myself about her. Just her.

#slay the princess #stp #stp princess #the thorn

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cheralith · 2 years ago

Text

a dedicated tenderness — 「 knives (nai) x reader 」

content warnings ; none

contains ; college!au, modern!au, secret relationship, just plain fluff with hundred spoons, polygun being sillies

notes ; could be read as a continuation of the previous nai fic, could not! still has the same aspects of it tho :3

You had met the Saverems when they moved across the street just barely diagonally from your house when you were just shy of six years old. Vash had caught you staring at their moving truck from behind the tall oak tree that provided a shaded sanctuary amidst the blazing summer heat. He remembers waving hello to the eyes that peeked out from the trunk of it before they flinched and ducked behind the sturdy wood again, slowly creeping back up to see if the pair of bright turquoise eyes were still staring at yours.

And when they were, Vash, being the more friendly and lively one of the two twins, decided to take it upon himself and drag his brother to go greet their new neighbor.

"Hi!" A sauntering young Vash had called cheerily to you, who was still hiding shyly behind the oak tree. "Are you our new neighbor? We just moved here!"

The young twins had managed to circle the trunk of the tree and before them stood a child around their age adorned in a colorful striped t-shirt and dirt-dusted overalls. Vash remembers you stepping back from the eager youngster, a less enthusiastic and distant version of him trailing not that far behind. You nodded, kicking at the dirt and not wanting to make eye contact with the sparkled-eye boy.

"My name is Valentinez, but you can call me Vash," he had said to you with a bright smile. He gestured to his lighter blonde and much more aloof counterpart. "This is Knives, you can call him Nai."

Your shy demeanor had suddenly faltered for a swift moment, your eyebrows getting all scrunched up in confusion at the odd names given to the two boys that little did you know, would set a place in your heart for the rest of your life. And it's returned back to the Saverem brothers. Your existence has stained each brother in such a unique way, and both Vash and Nai don't think they'll ever be able to forget you, not when your first words to them were,

"You guys kinda have weird names."

Such a sentence had lead a divide of two contrasting relationships involving the brothers—on one hand, Vash had taken it lightly to heart and merely laughed it off, easing himself into a breezy and steady friendship with you. On the other, Knives, or Nai as (only) you and Vash refer to him, had jutted out his lower lip in offense and insulted your dirty overalls, not taking into account that children still didn't have a filter before the age of ten. It forced you and him down a winding and tangling path, one that was devoid of flowery compliments and fresh smiles and laughs like the path of friendship you and Vash walked down together.

Oh no, the road you took with Nai was much more rocky, much more dwindling, and much more confusing. Insults jabbed at you and him like thorns as you'd trip over nonsensicality like sprouted tree roots waiting for you to stumble over them. The weather is never consisted as you travel down with him (never hand in hand, he'd so much as hiss out in faux pain whenever you'd brush against him). It could be stormy one day—the clouds heavy with misunderstandings, arguments and tears. It could be partly sunny—a ray of light peeking over the dismal clouds, similar to the nature of kindness that rarely shone through sometimes. Or it could just stay cloudy, as it has always been since the dawn of your "friend"ship with Nai.

Regardless of relationship status, there was certainly one thing that Vash had always knew of—that his brother had always had a quiet admiration for you. He just never seemed to act on it as much as other suitors of yours did. He isn't actually sure when Nai began to see you in a different light, but Vash can confirm that the longer he waits for something miraculous to happen, the more time will eat him alive.

He's seen it on his brother's face before. When you began your first relationship back in the more tender days of high school beginnings, Vash's eyes behind his glasses had flickered to a pair of similar ones across from him as you had introduced your then-boyfriend and he remembers the heaviness and ruddy ache that flittered across Nai's cavernous eyes. They contrasted your glowing ones, eyes filled with life and hope for the better future as you showed him off to everyone.

It was almost ritualistic, Vash thinks. Nai never seemed to care for romance unless it came to you. Vash thinks Nai would break all pairs of his glasses if he were to ever to say anything of a sort to his face, but he knew Nai was saving that blank space in his heart for you to fill, whether he realized it or not.

Nai Saverem is picky with people. He doesn't befriend those as easily as his younger brother, preferring to stay alone and distant with people that could easily take up his time so carelessly. It's why he shoos away any of his admirers with a cold glance that tells them they have zero chance with him and why there seems to be a certain thickness in the air whenever he's around that creates an invisible bubble around him. It's a thick barrier that refuses to let unknown others in and lets them know they won't be welcomed anytime soon. Introverted as he is, his energy is only so small, so there's a certain brand of people that wastes his time and therefore, he only uses his energy on people that he thinks are worth using it for.

And so Vash can't necessarily say he's too surprised like the others when Milly makes a separate groupchat that contains a series of images involving the two people excluded from it. The first is of Nai waiting outside the science building where your final class is held during Fridays. It was an odd place for him to be considering he only had one class on Fridays and would usually be home by mid-afternoon, so it was strange that Milly had caught him during the peeking hours of twilight still on campus.

The second is an image of you walking out the building and waving a hello to him, followed by the third of you and Nai's blurry figures connected via your hands in a sunset-inked sky making your way to Nai's car. The fourth of the photo sequence is a video. With a soft tenderness from Milly's hands, you get into the passenger seat with ease, the normal conversation of hostility and teasings between you and him seemingly devoid because there's no snooty faces or rolling of eyes. But it's when Nai properly starts the car that things take a turn. Its engines revving to life, he takes the time to pause and properly cradle the back of your head with his hand and properly give you a brief but soft kiss before pulling back with a dust of pink on his cheeks at the sight of your giddy, miniscule smile.

Behind the camera Milly gasps and drops her phone out of surprise on the concrete, and the video echoes the crack of the screen's phone before Milly's whine of "Oh no... it broke!" ends the video.

As buildings and nature of all arrays pass by, Vash replays the video over and over again in Wolfwood's car, examining it and the other images in full and wondering how Nai's daydreams finally came to life. Vash rubs his eyes behind his glasses, still attempting to process if what he’s seeing is real—that his icy older brother was truly thawing his resolve at the sight of you visibly and blooming a foreign affectionate that even Vash rarely sees nowadays.

Wolfwood groans when he hears the sound of the beginning of the video play again, grip tightening on the steering wheel as his knuckles whitening out of annoyance. "Would ya cut that out already! I get it, they're datin'!"

Vash flinches at his boyfriend's irritated tone. He tucks away his phone with a hasty laugh and apology. "Sorry, I'm just a little baffled that they're finally together after all these years."

The brunette makes a sort of scoffing noise. "I didn't lose all hope that your brother would never find love, but in all my years, I didn't expect it to be (Y/N) out of all people," he mutters, a cigarette dangling from his hand that sits on the edge of the window, its peppery scent lingering softly in the car. "How long do ya reckon they'll last?" he asks everyone in the car. "My bets on three months, their bickerin' is gonna put an end to it 'fore somethin' else does."

"That's mean, Wolfwood," Meryl scolds and flicks him on the back of his head, earning a yelp from him. "I'll admit myself I don't know how those two came to be, but I only wish them well and if they're happy with each other, that's all that matters."

Milly chimes in with a positive cheer. "Agreed! I'm just happy that Mr. Knives has finally found someone!" she chirps. "I really didn't want him to end up as a sad old grandpa alone."

"I wasn't insultin' them," Wolfwood huffs, "I was just merely statin' the reality. Y'all saw it earlier today too—both of 'em playin' musical chairs with the seat Knives stole in the lounge when (Y/N) got up to go get water."

Meryl shakes her head. "It's still really mean to assume their relationship won't last. I don't know about you guys, but I can see them—hey! You missed the turn!"

"Shit!"

Wolfwood swears aloud, hissing as he realizes he's passed the entrance to a vast park on the busy street. He makes a swift and hasty U-turn on the road that makes everyone grip onto the nearest object for dear life before zooming into an entrance that lead to a hidden field in the woods. The car slowly drives by it, where everyone can see a a lone picnic blanket atop a small hill with a laptop playing Miss Congeniality sits on a picnic basket. The back of two people face the parking lot, and it doesn't take long for everyone in the car to assume who they were.

On Fridays, it was a ritual to go to someone's house for a relaxing movie night and just wind down with everyone's presence for the evening. Today, however, you and Nai had excused yourselves from it with what seemed to be valid excuses until Milly's paparazzi work had jumbled in hours later.

“Can’t,” Nai droned, his eyes still glued on his laptop. “I’ve some papers to grade for one of my classes before the midterm ends.”

“And I’ve got a lab report to write up with my lab mates later,” you mentioned. “I can catch next week’s if that’s okay.”

It clicked to them that it was secretly code for you and Nai to actually attend a secret picnic movie date, which Wolfwood took mild offense to as Miss Congeniality was one of his favorite movies, disliking that it was being used for a date out of all things.

"They can't be serious," Wolfwood sneers as he pulls into a coveted shady area of the parking lot, safe from yours and Nai's view but still able to provide the gang with proper sights. "What screams romantic about Sandra Bullock having to attend a pageant? There's literally so much better romcoms out—"

"Shut up!" Everyone scolds.

"You'll give away our cover!" Meryl hisses. "The point is to be subtle and quiet, you idiot!"

Wolfwood snides and rolls his eyes, his hands throwing up in surrender.

On the other side of the hill, you gently press another strawberry to Nai's lips. His teeth gently bite into it, the juices of it slowly seeping out from the corner of his lips for your thumb to scrape away, a feather-like touch grazing his lips as it does so. You go to stare at the red-stained tint on them for a moment unconsciously, the natural gloss the fruit left off almost hypnotizing you.

It goes unnoticed by Nai, however.

"If you wanted a kiss, just say so," Nai says, plucking the greenery of the strawberry out your hand to put it into the trash pile.

You break out of your trance with a stunned shiver going up your spine at the sound of Nai's casualty. It was still somewhat unnerving for him to be saying such things, especially considering how he used to be before you two began dating. Words conveying such warmth were still unusual to hear, but it wasn't like you didn't like it.

A warmth creeps on your cheeks and you blink. "What? No, I was just simply... going to fix your collar, that's all!" you lie hastily. Your hand goes to fidget with an already-neat shirt collar before your wrist is grabbed by Nai's own. It pulls you into him and Nai's lisps peck your own quickly before his attention returns to the movie like nothing had ever happened.

You swear you can feel some steam coming out of your head. While you were usually the one that began the small touches of affections, it always felt different and much more intimate when Nai would return them or replicate them in his own fervor. Maybe it was due to the lack of intimacy he displayed to anyone else, or perhaps because they were from Nai himself that they felt more personal—the man who barely showed any emotion to anyone other than distaste and apathy—and so for such an individual to be sharing such liaison with you just felt more close to heart because he chose you to share it with.

"I thought you weren't one for PDA..." you mutter, fighting the urge the lick your lips as the acidity of the strawberry leftover lingers on them.

Nai shrugs. "We're the only ones around here, so the 'P' aspect of PDA doesn't necessarily apply right now."

"That's what you think," you interject. "There could be some weirdo prodding around the bushes as we speak, spying on us, y'know!"

He lets out a soft snort as the ending scene begins to play out, where Sandra Bullock begins to give her speech about friendship in the banquet hall starts to seal up the ending ropes of the movie. "And what weirdo would want to spend their time spying on two college students on a picnic?"

"A weirdo who tends to enjoy movies and real-life romance."

"Those people don't exist."

"To you they might not, but to me anything is possible."

"Shut up before I kiss you again."

You snort aloud, fighting the urge to react to his declaration like a schoolgirl. "You're acting as if I don't want th—"

Milly gasps loudly as she watches Nai dips his face to yours to once again, kiss you, but with more ardor than the last, this one lasting much more soundly than the previous one. She can sense there's true passion and dare she say, genuine love, in it and she melts at the sight of it fondly.

Vash himself watches the scene unfold with wide eyes, pausing his munching on his sandwich as he hogs the binoculars from a protesting Meryl. It takes all the fight in him to not proudly cheer aloud at his brother making a move and he gags on his sandwich when he witnesses Nai tuck a lock of hair behind your ear after the kiss. His lips still tell nothing of a sort, still a stiff downward line like they usually were, but the rest of his radiates a sort of fluster when you giggle softly at his antics. Confidence looks good on his brother, Vash thinks.

"Shit, they're on the move!" Wolfwood exclaims after a while of spying. Everyone hastily packs their things and duck as an ignorant you and Nai make your way down the hill and back into his creme white car, where Wolfwood's doesn't trail too far behind. The four of them spend the rest of the evening not watching a romantic movie as planned, but instead fending for the real life soap opera that enacts in front of them, tailing you and Nai as you travel around town and into various shops.

"Who do you think made the first move?" Meryl asks with her eyes peering behind the binoculars, peeking behind the window of the car that sits parallel on the same street a record shop was. "I'm placing bets that it was—oh no, everyone duck!" They shift under the seats when you two walk out with small bags in hand holding sorts of records and CDs, still talking aimlessly and the beat-up grey-black Camry still unnoticed in the background.

"Never really took Knives for a music-type of guy..." Wolfwood mutters. They slowly rise up from their spots and beginning to tail the car again.

Nai's eyes go to flicker to the rearview mirror. "Are they still following us?"

You give a chuckle and glance at the side mirror, where a familiar car of sorts drives only a car behind you. You had realized back at the ice cream parlor that four pairs of watchful eyes had their sights on you and Nai awhile back, but figured it'd be awkward to confront them and ruin the date. Instead, you let them have their fun being pretend James Bonds and went on with the date like usual, attempting to ignore them as much as possible (it was quite hard, however, when you could see Vash and Wolfwood almost start wrestling in the front seats for aux).

You knew that you and Nai had to come clean sooner or later, but he had admitted that he wasn't ready to state publicly that he was in a committed relationship. You still weren't sure whether it was because of his own pride of being frustratingly independent or it was nervousness of entering a new era that was holding him, but you respected his wishes and continued to play the part of a bickering old couple stuck in the bodies of college students like how you were beforehand. You think you were still just as nervous as you were in the first few weeks.

But when Nai's voice echoes the words he promised to you when he officially asked you out with sweaty palms and palpitating heartbeats, a warmth in your chest unfolds in comfort, reminding you to look on the brighter, warmer side of things, even if you weren't too confident.

"I... really want to make this work... so I promise to do all that I can if you'll do the same."

You give a soft smile at his promise he made awhile back to a particular no one. Nai raises a brow at your mysterious grinning.

"What are you smiling about?" he inquires as he leads you to the entrance of your apartment building.

"Oh, nothing..." you shrug off, leaving Nai in the dust of confusion.

Nai narrows his eyes for a bit in suspicion before sighing out aloud. His eyes go to hover on the sight of that dumb Camry again, its shaded windows concealing who its passengers was from view but Nai has seen it too many times to count to know whose car it was and only who could be inside of it. The smoke that wisps from behind the driver's window does nothing more that confirm his suspicions as he picks up the scent of familiar menthol cigarettes that doesn't take him long to guess who it belongs to.

"Do you think we should confront them?" you ask.

Nai shakes his head, "Just let them be for now. I'll deal with them later," he murmurs when he leads you safely into your apartment building. "Text me when you get up to your apartment," he directs before brushing his lips against your cheek as a goodbye.

You nod, affirmative. "I will, thank you for today, too," you praise fondly and give his hand one last squeeze before you let go. You watch as Nai makes his way back to the entrance before you call his name out again.

"Hey, Nai?"

His head turns back to you, raising a brow. You take this time to fully embody him before your own eyes, from the tufts of his hair to each freckle on his body.

Nai before your relationship and Nai in a relationship you think are two vastly different people, and you still can't place your finger on who the real one was. A part of you thinks he's putting up a front in the eye of the public for his own self-preservation, but another part tells you that he's merely just showing a newer, more refined side of him that you've never seen before—a more tender and protective version of Nai that you think only Vash has seen before a handful of times. Sometimes, you pride yourself in confirming that this side of Nai, whether it was real or not, was only shown to you as a sign of trust from his desolate self.

However, there were other times that made you think this honeymoon era might not last and you and him will go back to how things used to be, altering the fate of your relationship for the worst. A petal of guilt would bloom every time that thought crosses your mind due to the unsettling feeling that perhaps you didn't confide in Nai enough, that maybe you just didn't earn enough of him to lock your feelings into place.

But when he waits patiently for your response, blinking slowly, you realize that perhaps it was indeed the latter—a slow exposure to a new side of Nai Saverem—that was yours for the taking.

"I love you," you declare in the foyer, your voice echoing and forcing your message to repeat itself to him for a few seconds.

Your eyes scan for a reaction from him and you earn a flustered, non-verbal one as a response, one that makes his lips thin and makes him thickly swallow and cheeks flush. A grin teeters on the corners of your mouth as you watch him attempt to utter out a reply. It falls short on his tongue, however, and you're only given a nod and wave before Nai (almost hurriedly) exits the building, the tips of his ears pink.

A giggle slips its way out of you as you enter the elevator, fondly thinking on his lasting image. Baby steps, you think.

On the floors below, Nai groans and drags a hand down his face at the memory of your declaration to him. It's more difficult than he thought to ignore the loud thundering of his heartbeat, and he doesn't quite enjoy how it twists his chest so... tightly. He feels foolish for not even gathering up courage to just say a mere "Me too." back to you, but his embarrassment suddenly dissipates upon seeing the same car still in its place. Nai suddenly remembers the last errand he has to take care as his feet carry him to it, the scent of a cigarette growing stronger each step.

"Wolfwood, can you at least take that outside?" Meryl complains as the the black haired man lights up his fourth cigarette of the night. It's a miracle how his car seats don't reek from the stench.

He shakes his head, jutting it towards the building. "No can do, sweetheart. Our cover will be blown if Knives sees m—what the hell?!"

A loud bang rumbles through the car from the roof and the familiar figure of Nai Saverem looms over the car before he ducks his head down and gestures for a nervous Vash to roll down the window. Vash, fear-stricken, obeys his command almost automatically, leaving Nai to stare boredly back at everyone's pale faces. Wolfwood thinks Nai's fist had created an indent on the top of his car, but his words fail him when he goes to stare at Nai's icy face.

"So did you guys have fun spying on us?"

a/n ; this was just kind of a fluff blurb to help me write something that was the next chapter of if the shoe fits because i kind of needed something fresh and new to work on. writer's block? i'm not too sure! i hope you enjoyed either way!

thank you for reading once more and as always, comments and reblogs are always appreciated <;3!

#trigun #trigun stampede #trigun 1998 #trigun maximum #millions knives #millions knives x reader #knives x reader #nai x reader #knives fluff #trigun fluff #trigun fanfic #trigun x reader #vash the stampede #nicholas d. wolfwood #meryl stryfe #milly thompson

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numberonetacostan · 5 months ago

Note

(the ask got too long for tumblr so this is part one)

I'm sure you picked up on this already but I am a sucker for hurt/comfort. But not the fluff type of hurt/comfort at all more the type every single ugly side of you is exposed to other people around you one way or another and they have to see how you absolutely breakdown as you spill everything you have had inside of you for so long and instead of driving them away for your dismay they get closer and you panic. Its very specific but god do I love it. I like things like this to happen with taco its why I had an entire fantasy type of AU where all of taco's overwhelming feelings just completely fucking consume everything, and I don't mean it figuratively I mean it LITERALLY consume everything at their wake and come into the shape of a maze (this should happen sometime around post episode 15), so yeah imagine chilling on your own for then suddenly being sucked into this weirdcore type of space that looks like a garden and is filled with roses of different colors. I for once would be pretty freaked out. So taco's despair had reached a peak so big that, it all manifested into a big maze, accidentally swallowing everyone and everything around her into it, everyone is confused and dizzy and just pretty freaked out after a while, they go through some doors and they come to realize the things they get into when they open the doors are quite literally memories. And to everyone's dismay, those memories are no one else's but taco's. Its not obvious at first, they see a young black haired girl in an school uniform around the age of 13 in these memories meant to be her (this entire thing is connected with my amphibia x ii AU where taco actually has a childhood and parents.) they do not recognize her as taco first, but they see some fragments, little snippets of memory that don't seem to be all that positive. And then, they get to one specific memory this one this time regarding season 1 and come to the realization this is taco. Some people would have a hunch that the maze manifested because of her but none of it would be confirmed until they actually find taco- and god is she in an awful state. She has new more fancy dress, it makes her look almost like a doll, and she is wrapped around roses that make her bleed. Suffice to say, people like mic and pickle (yes, pickle, because despite everything he doesn't want to see her dying.) PANIC. Knife is the only one calm enough to carefully get back an unconscious taco enveloped in roses with very sharp thorns. When taco is awake she is confused, its the type of awake after you completely bawled you eyes out at night, but when she is actually conscious of what is going on she completely freaks out she does NOT want any of this people to see her in this insanely vulnerable state and she begans to have a panic attack, suddenly the maze rumbles and a lot of roses begin sprouting frenetically and its the moment they realize, yes this is taco's maze. Knife once more is the one that snaps taco back to reality so no one ends up dying somehow or at least badly hurt and begrudgingly so taco follows them around to see if there is an exit of this hellish place. And, an exit there is- however...its not an exit that they look for. To get out of this maze they have to 1 kill taco- or 2 go through basically most of the memories of her life since she was a child, a teen and an adult. And well, taco is NOT happy about this in the slightest in fact she spends most of the time trying to convince the others to kill her. They have this much easier- and in her head- more favorable option, basically a ticket out of here and a way to get rid of her so she is confused and frustrated when they don't seem to take it, at some point she gets pent up and just leaves them alone, she hates the simple thought of EVERYONE being able to go through the most vulnerable times of her life including the mess her family used to be, but she doesn't stay alone for long as they find her again and taco is forced to comply to her dismay. 1/?

Hi Kiara!!!^^ Welcome back, and thank you for sending in an au!! For the sake of ease, I've put the rest of your au below along with my response :).

when going through the memories taco faces away from nearly every single one of them and refuses to look at anyone on their eye when they're done. A lot of these memories are about her own struggles with her family the having to keep up an act due to them and slowly begginning to lose herself, things so vital like her sense of taste- her identity and everyone is forced to see how it gradually gets worse for her. How she chooses the options she thinks will make other happier instead of what make her happier. The having to see this moment in teen!taco's life where she realizes- she doesn't know who she is. There is a moment of pause as her smile completely disappear from her face and she goes ''....what did I like?'' ''what did I wanted to do again?'' ''everything has been tasting so stale these days...even mother's home cooking...'' ''where is the real me?'' (yes she is asahina mafuyu from pjsk in the AU basically) having to see the moment she cries as she tries to explain her mother how she truly feels for then being dismissed and in her mind getting SO overwhelmed she runs away from her home. Having to see the exact moment she weaponizes her ability to pretend and go with a facade something that destroyed her from the inside out- not for no one else but herself, and yet still going through the same consequences anyways. Having to see that what she said in the finale was really an outburst, something born out of anger and frustration, perhaps she was also scared that pickle himself wouldn't like her once he realizes that she is not a real person, she is just a good actor that takes the world as her own stage. And tries to survive with deceipt. And so she also ran from him before he was able to leave her first, and so she turns against him because its okay anyways. He didn't loved the true me, and yet still feeling miserable afterwards. As a fun fact, the memories are all represented by roses of different colors, depending of the state and color of these roses they represent how taco feels about them, or felt in the moment. For example in the place where most her season 1 memories reside there are SO many yellow roses, most of them wilted and thorn. Yellow roses represent friendship and once upon a time jealousy. With this knowledge, we get into the room where the memories with mic are, and as another fun fact, mic is the only one that can get through these. Its a silent way taco goes to express her devotion to her, that her subconscious brain is still despite everything loyal and doesn't want her to get in trouble. These places are filled with burgundy roses which basically convey deep passion and romantic devotion.

as mic keeps going through the memories they not only grow in size but new ones begin sprouting. I think mepad is the one that usually explains the meaning of most roses if the contestants ask because I think he knows about flora and stuff, he is a machine and he is also worried for taco, but in these he chooses to keep his mouth shut because he understood is taco's subconscious mind basically confessing and he wants her to do that on her own. Maybe he will tell mic the meaning of them when they get out of there and you bet mic thinks about it all night. Knife I think is other one that slowly picks up on their meaning at some point cuz he is knife and maybe he will tease taco about it when she is not actively having panic attacks and breakdowns post-maze. there is even more but the cast is able to see baby taco (around 4 years old or so) and mic is like in TEARS because BABY TACO SHE LOOKS SO CUTE. its the kind of reaction you have when you see an adorable puppy somewhere.

(End of asks.)

This kind of reminds me of the MeLife Neural Network, with the possibility of a contestant's emotions getting so overwhelming it taps into the network!!! The white void that Taco and Mic were in during their break up in episode 14!!! And you know I love me that MeLife Neural Network!!!!!!

Auough my dear sweet Taco would very much rather die than be vulnerable in front of everyone for real. Poor baby having to relive everything with all these people that hate her. And the flower symbolism!!!!! I love flower symbolism my partner and I each have a copy of the same book so we give each other numbers like little codes for love messages <3. And her even subconsciously being so very loyal and even protective of Mic is so sweet!!!! And Mepad my king knowing but keeping his mouth shut augh we love a gentleman who loves lesbians!!!!

Baby Taco would be the cutest thing ever actually thank you for that mental image!!! Sorry if this response is a little shorter than usual, my (old man) dog has been begging for attention the entire time I've been trying to type this and I am a mere slave to his whims (and big baby eyes).

#inanimate insanity #ii taco #taco ii #loomy's answers #ii mic #tacomic #mic ii #ii mepad #mepad ii #knife ii #ii knife #pickle ii #ii pickle

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