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sunnami · 3 months

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❝time will tell.❞

[credits to the original artist of the photo!! can't seem to find their @ anywhere. title is taken from jane austen's persuasion, as was the first part.]

summary. ❝you are loved. and harry thinks there is no better description that that.❞

pairing/s. poly!mauraders x reader. (james potter x reader, sirius black x reader, lily evans x reader, and remus lupin x reader.)

word count. 9.5k.

tags. reader is referred to mum, with she/her pronouns[!], canon-typical violence [!], canon-typical deaths mentioned[!], very brief marauders as soldiers of the order[!], creepy old men being creepy[!], child abuse[!], pureblood arranged marriages, a minor character expresses wanting to die[!], Depressed and Traumatized Slytherins, the capital is important[!], themes of misogyny [!], teen boys fuck around and find out there are consequences to their actions, THERE IS ACTUALLY A LOT OF FLUFF, I PROMISE YOU, angst, children lose their baby teeth up until the age of twelve!! google said so!! not proofread we die like dobby the free elf

note. damn, i cried, you cried, we all crode. tbh, the first part was only intended as a oneshot, sdfkhdf, but when i re-read it, i thought that i could have expanded on more details,, so now here we are!! i love it more than the first part ueueue. thank you all so so so much for the kind comments :((( please please enjoy the second part to this installment!! part one

HARRY JAMES POTTER was only a few months old when you died at the hands of Voldemort — or as strangers have told him every time they ravaged his personal space and ogled at his scar. They said it was a quick death, better than what had happened to Alice and Frank Longbottom. But that was all they’ve ever said about your death. Unfortunate; caught in the wrong place at the wrong time, entirely different from the pedestal James and Lily have been put on by the wizarding society.

At first, Harry had wondered if it was due to your blood relations, being the daughter of a renowned Death-Eater, heiress to the fortune of a pureblood House. Harry can’t even count the amount of conspiracy theories he’s read or heard to his face that it must have been you who betrayed James and Lily, and not Sirius Black.

Even Hermione’s shared to him a theory that your death was faked to surrender your loyalty completely to Voldemort — of course, Hermione was eleven at the time, head full of books and her favorite theories, and Harry’s already forgiven her. But there’s a part of him that despises the way he’s never known the full truth about his parents, just bits of information dangled in front of him like bait for people [read: the Dursleys] to get him to do what they want, to act like the way they want. Until Remus and Sirius, you were a stranger to him, really.

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

(1976; CURRENTLY, IN THE PAST.)

IT IS RATHER UNFORTUNATE that Madam Pince has already taken her position as the unbearable librarian at this point in time. The woman gives Harry and you a pointed look as you slam the large book onto one of the tables — to Harry’s surprise, you glare right back at her. You’re awfully flushed, however, blushing cheeks betraying the fire in your eyes; it must have been from when Remus escorted the two of you to the library; he had tried to brush your hand with his pinky, to which you had responded with a startled hiss — Remus only smiled and chuckled at you, and Harry swears he’d like to forget that entire interaction because he saw literal stars in Remus’s eyes.

Jumping back in time and potentially causing chaos? Fun.

Meeting your parents? Definitely fun, in the strangest of ways.

But watching them pine and fall for each other? Not so fun.

Nonetheless, he hesitantly takes the seat across yours and watches you flip through the pages until you land on a chapter with the large, bold letters: THE CURIOUS CASE OF ELOISE MINTUMBLE — Time-Travel and Its Many Dangers. He meets your gaze with a sheepish grin, mustering a look of innocence; except the puppy dog eyes only worked when he was nine — you are not amused.

You slide the book towards him, scarily resembling Molly Weasley when she’s miffed with the twins. “You are aware, right, that just by existing here you’ve changed the future? Your future? And, that’s not even the worst thing that could happen.”

Harry sulks. “Yes, mum.” He prefers not to think about it, actually, it makes his head hurt.

“Don’t call me that in public!” You whisper heatedly, looking over your shoulder to check if anyone had heard him — to your luck, the library was empty, save for a Hufflepuff that was passed out on top of his books. “The less people that know about this, the better. It’s bad enough we told Potter about you. Do you even know what you’re going to do?”

“Considering I was thrown here against my will, no.” Harry shrugs. “And to be honest, I was just going to obliviate the people who asked too many questions.”

You reach over to smack his head, scowling.

“Ow! That hurt!” Harry rubs the sore spot as he grumbles petulantly. “This is technically child abuse, did you know that?”

You roll your eyes. “Do you at least have a plan to get home?”

“Of course I do,” Harry retorts with a scoff, “Her name is Hermione Granger.”

“Hopeless.” You groan exasperatedly. “Absolutely hopeless.”

Harry only grins in response. For a brief moment, he forgets about the present — his reality where the skies are bleak and home is where he knows the feeling of loss more than the warmth of his own parents’ embrace. He lets himself forget, and pretends he isn’t the Boy Who Lived. Just some random boy who’s pestering his mother — even if she likes to deny the inevitability of being romanced by the Marauders, (except for Wormtail because Harry would eat troll slime before he ever lets that happen.)

“Right then,” You say after your tangent — which Harry tuned out when he hears the words, be responsible. “If I’m going to help you get back home—”

Harry’s heart drops to his stomach; as selfishly as it sounds, he didn’t want to go home just yet — not to where people just took and took from him. He’s exhausted. Still, he puts up a front of being excited to be returned to his timeline. It’s for the greater good, of course, because his existence — present or past — is always somehow a threat to the wizarding society.

“—you need to answer this one question for me.” Your voice drops lower as you stare at him intently, lips pressed firmly.

Harry nods slowly. “As long as it’s within reason, yeah.”

You inhale sharply. “Do I outlive Dolores Umbridge?”

The wince escapes Harry before he can even stop it.

That’s all the answer you need, apparently. Your mouth hangs open in disbelief, eyes nearly bulging out of your head as you slam your hands down onto the table surface, shrieking.

“That slimy bitch!”

Needless to say, the two of you are kicked out of the library.

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

(1970; ORIGINAL TIMELINE.)

YOU ARE ELEVEN when your father introduces you to Ferguson, commonly known as Fergus, Bulstrode. He smiles at you with a leer, eyes hungrily dipping to the neckline of your dress. You grit your teeth as you hold out your hand for him to take — you almost shudder at the feel of his lips on your cheek. You eagerly take a step back away from him, hoping your father won’t notice the way you shy from Ferguson’s touch. You’re not dull, you fully understand the implications of this introduction and the way Ferguson is complaining to you about his third wife’s passing — as if you were the solution to his loneliness. Bile rises to your throat, and you shove it down with a forced laugh at your father’s jokes about Mudbloods. From across the room, Allegra Greengrass stares at you in sympathy, and you send her a glare — you do not need anyone’s pity.

The corset your mother laced on too tight is suffocating you; this whole Yule extravaganza made for elitist purebloods is suffocating you; and yet, you smile and greet every red-lipped witch your mother introduces you to. For hours, you pretend, and you pretend. By the time the guests have left, you wonder if you have any more of yourself to give.

You manage to convince your mother to let you slip away for the night. Without missing a beat, you rush outside and into the garden labyrinth, lest old Ferguson snatches you up for a dance and let his gaze wander elsewhere. For the first time since the sun had set, your aching feet finally find some relief. You drop onto the edge of the stone fountain as you toss your heels to the side. You begin working your fingers through your hair, ripping the glittery ribbons from your head. It’s not until you’re unclasping your necklace that you realize you are crying. Tears fall from your eyes, and they sink deep into the fabric of your dress.

You barely hold back your sobs. Your chest heaves as you hiccup; your vision goes blurry as your fingers grow numb. There’s nothing you can do but cry.

You’ve used up all your smiles for tonight.

But then, the sadness turns into resentment and then turns into indignation. Harshly, you wipe the tears from your eyes as you rip a violent scream from your throat.

You sink to the ground, perfectly polished nails digging into the soil as you gather patches of grass and tear them from the roots. You throw a handful of mud at the marble statues. You grab another fistful of mud, scream, then bash your head against the garden floor. You let out another cry, whimpering as you curl into yourself; shivering as a gust of wind brushes against your skin. Surprisingly enough, this is the most human you’ve ever felt. This is the most you have ever felt — period.

When hiccups regress into soft sniffles, you lay on your back, watching the stars float above. As the last of your tears slide down your cheek, you lift a shaky hand to trace the constellation in the sky. It’s not a familiar one to you, but then—

“That’s Sirius.”

You sit upright in a snap, wiping away the wetness from your eyes as you muster a mean glare at the newcomer.

Sirius Black.

“Oh, none of that,” He tells you when you move to stand. There’s barely any emotion on his face and it irks you that you can’t figure out what he’s planning. What you don’t expect is for him to sit beside you, thereby ruining his expensively tailored suit.

“You’ll get creases,” You scold him instinctively, nose scrunched — but your voice is hoarse; too tired to put up any pretences. “Your mother will be cross with you.”

Sirius scoffs, laying his head on the dirt, making sure to smear his sleeves with grass stains. “Walburga can go fall in a ditch and die for all I care.”

You gasp. “That’s horrible!”

Sirius gives you a look. “You don’t believe that.”

You really don’t, but you don’t have the courage to admit it either.

After a few moments of silence, Sirius asks, raising a brow, “So who was that?”

“Who was who?” You stare at him with knitted brows, toying with your fingers. You still can’t wrap your head around how weird this is — sitting with Sirius Black in the middle of your mother’s hedge maze, your once bright blue dress now sullied at the ruffles, eyes bloodshot and your hair a frizzy mess. (Sirius thinks you look cute, though; especially with your missing front tooth that peeks out every time you talk to him.)

“Bald guy, older than Merlin himself.” Sirius makes a face. “Looks like a troll. Smells like one, too.”

A giggle flutters past your lips, and your hands fly to your mouth. You really shouldn’t be bad-mouthing your guests, but Sirius was right — Ferguson really did act like an ugly troll. You sigh, letting your arms fall to your side. “My betrothed.”

Sirius nods in understanding. “My mother tried to set me up with my own cousin once.”

You grimace. “Which cousin?”

He sits on his knees to face you, and with a very solemn face, he says, “Bellatrix.”

This time, you laugh freely, throwing your head back as Sirius pouts at your amusement. “O-Oh, that’s golden.”

“No, it’s not,” says Sirius, lips twitching as he watches you snort like a pig through your giggles. “It’s horrible. A literal nightmare. You should feel awful for me.” He pokes your stomach, and it just makes you laugh harder, eyes disappearing into your smile. “Oi. I said feel awful, not take the piss out of me.”

“S-Sorry.” You wheeze, batting away his hand pulling at your cheek. “I just can’t imagine Bellatrix in a white wedding dress and saying her vows to you.”

“That’s disgusting.” Sirius gags. “You’re horrible, I hope you know that.”

When you finally calm down and Sirius tickles your bare feet until you cry in surrender, the two of you lay on the grass as he points out each constellation to you. Later, he fishes a small box of sugar mice from his pocket and offers it to you, opening one for himself. “Here’s to shitty parents and the one day we get to decide our own future.”

You bump your squeaky candy mice against his. “Cheers, Black.”

“Will you go to Hogwarts next year?” He asks you once he’s bitten off the tail of his mice.

You nod.

Sirius shifts on his side, holding his pinky out to you. “We’ll be friends when school starts?”

Again, you nod, wrapping your pinky around his. “Friends.”

The next September comes, Sirius finds a compartment and one James Potter in it. You sit with Allegra Greengrass and Endora Lestrange on the way to Hogwarts. You are sorted into Slytherin, and Sirius finds freedom and a home in Gryffindor. You play the role created just for you; you lift your nose at those beneath you, adorn yourself in custom-made silk clothing, and carry yourself with the etiquette of a pure-blooded lady. Perfect grades, perfect hair, perfect clothes, always picture perfect.

You pretend that Allegra doesn’t throw up in the evenings from the fear of getting married to a man twice her age. You pretend that you don’t notice Endora sleep-walking and begging for her mother to save her from her father. You pretend that under your blankets, in the Slytherin dungeon, you are safe.

You pretend that it doesn’t hurt when Sirius looks at you in disappointment when you shove a Hufflepuff student to the ground for getting a higher score than you in Charms.

They call you an ice-princess behind your back, and you overhear some of the fifth-years calling you foul words as well, and no one steps in to stop them; there’s no defending a Slytherin, after all. But you are keeping your head above treacherous waters, and you suppose that is all that matters.)

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

(1976; CURRENTLY, IN THE PAST.)

“SO ACCORDING TO THIS, Eloise was stuck in 1402 for five days until she was retrieved to the present, which means we only have four days left to figure out a way for you to get back home.”

Harry sinks into his chair, arms crossed over his chest. The two of you had found an empty classroom to discuss your plans away from inquisitive ears. “What’s the rush?” It’s unfair, he’d only just met you, and now he’s losing time with you.

You sigh. “Harry, Eloise Mintumble spent five days in the past and when she came back, her body aged five centuries, and she died in St. Mungos. It’s not just about altering the whole timeline, you could actually die.”

When you are met only with silence, you close the book, frowning. “Harry? What’s wrong?”

Harry swallows the lump in his throat, looking out the window to avoid your gaze. “What do you know about the Mirror of Erised?”

Your head tilts in confusion. “That it shows our heart’s deepest desire.”

“Yeah,” says Harry, nodding. “I was eleven when I found it.”

“Oh, Harry. . .”

It’s almost pathetic how quickly his eyes water. “Did you know, before today, I hadn’t known at all what your voice sounded like?”

You stay quiet, and Harry sucks in a shaky breath.

“When I looked into the mirror, I saw my parents—all of you. There I was, in the middle. You were behind me—happy.” Harry swipes a tear from his eye. “I wanted to stay in that room, stare at that mirror forever.”

“It’s—”

“Dangerous, I know.” He laughs bitterly. “Just like finally being able to meet you all here.”

“Harry, you aren’t supposed to be here in the first place,” You say quietly, eyes drooping sadly.

“I know that!” He exclaims desperately. “But is it so selfish to just want some time? I don’t want an illusion, I want the real thing. A real family. Why can’t I have that? Bloody Malfoy gets everything he wants, and what do I have?”

“Your friends,” You tell him firmly. “Your friends who must be worried sick that you’re gone and must be going great lengths to bring you back.”

“I know.” Harry wilts. He’s got Remus at home, too, who probably needs him more than ever after Sirius’s death. “I know. But can’t I just have this one thing?”

You purse your lips for a moment, brows furrowed in thought. Then, you break the silence with: “Do you want to hear a story?”

“What?” Harry croaks, peering at you through wet lashes.

Shrugging, you say, “Stories to remember us by. I’ve got six years worth of stories and then some. I know it’s not much, and you’ve probably heard some of these already from the others in the future, but it’s better than nothing, right?” You lean against the back of your chair, glancing at the wall clock before grinning at Harry. “We’ve got time to spare, anyway.”

Harry manages a smile, setting down his glasses before rubbing his stinging eyes with the handkerchief you offer him. He figures this is what Remus means when you’re the gentlest creature he’s ever known — just not gentle in what the world expects you to be.

“What do you say, Harry? I give you tidbits of the past, and you tell me if you know anything about the next Triwizard champion, so I can place my bets in advance.”

Harry snickers. “Not a chance, mum.”

“Worth a try.” And the smile you give him is nearly blinding.

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

(1977; ORIGINAL TIMELINE.)

YOU DON’T UNDERSTAND what it is about Gryffindors and their hobby of invading others’ personal space.

A year into dating and James likes to shove his head under your shirt, claiming he loves the sound of your heartbeat — but you know really what he wants to nestle his head in between. The amount of cashmere blouses he’s ruined is absurd! Sirius has a hobby of tracing runes on the plane of your stomach. Lily prefers it when you sit in front of her, just within reach where she can wrap her arms around you and rest her head on your shoulder. Remus tends to lag behind the group when he notices you walking slower due to your leg flaring up. He kisses the side of your head and promises to chase the pain away — sappy poetic that he is. And in the moments where all five of you are together, tucked under a wide alcove, you can best believe there is no escaping what they like to call, a cuddle pile. Limbs are tangled, kisses are shared, and confessions of love are whispered.

Before them, you hadn’t really known the different ways to love and be loved.

Onto the pressing matters at hand, you discover that the brazen show of affection extends to their parents as well. Particularly, the Potters. After a year, you finally caved into James’s requests for you to spend the holidays at their manor, since the others have already made a space for themselves there, and James had said it would be an honor for you to feel at home with his parents, too. Honestly, you spoil them too much — one look into his bright, wide eyes and you gave in. James didn’t even care that you brought two luggages for clothes alone; he lifted each bag with delight and with ease.

(Remus had the audacity to laugh when he caught you and Sirius staring at James’s flexed muscles, mouth wide open.

“As I have said, Remus Lupin, I do not drool!”

“Sure, dove, whatever you say.”)

But now, you really aren’t so sure of your decision.

“Oh, she’s beautiful, Jamie!” Euphemia encases you in a bear hug the moment you step inside the manor. You’re engulfed in the scent of cinnamon and burnt sugar. You stiffen as she cradles your face in between her palms, smiling ever so fondly at you, cooing about how precious you look, much like a mother would — and how your mother never did. You wonder if this is what you’ve been missing all along — the thought stabs you right in the heart. “Please excuse the mess, dear, we haven’t had the chance to clean up yet, Monty and I are excited to try the recipe Lily owled to us the other day, you see.”

“I-It’s okay,” You rasp, struggling to hold back the tears.

“Oh, what a darling you are!” Euphemia smiles and ushers you further inside. “Come, come. The others are right upstairs. You must be tired from the train ride. It is so lovely to finally meet you. Make yourself at home, dear heart — James Fleamont Potter! Give your mama a kiss this instant! Don’t think introducing your girlfriend will distract me from the fact you didn’t owl me letters for two months straight!”

James whines as he hides behind you. “Mum, I’m seventeen, stop embarrassing me.”

Euphemia scoffs, hands snapping to her hips. “You’re going to be my baby boy forever, now come here.”

With a shy smile, you step away to surrender James to his mother — you don’t understand which part of this is embarrassing; you wish for a mum who’d welcome you home like that, with unconditional love and kind eyes. James squawks and calls you a traitor, just before his mum attacks him with loud, exaggerated kisses to his cheek, leaving lipstick stains all over his face. You hide a laugh behind your palm, ignoring the way your heart pangs at the sight of their unrestrained smiles. Euphemia lets her son go after a few more seconds, cackling at the masterpiece she’s created on a grumbling James, who’s rubbing his skin to erase his mother’s affections. She hugs you once more before setting you off, telling you to meet Fleamont after you’ve unpacked.

Just as you reach the foot of the stairs, you hear a girlish squeal, then the sound of rapid footfall against each wooden step. Lily greets the two of you by jumping off the last step and wrapping each arm around yours and James’s neck. “Welcome home, Jamie!” She captures his lips with her own before doing the same to you, cupping your cheek lovingly, “So happy you made it, princess! How was the ride here?”

You were never a fan of traveling by Floo; it made you nauseous after, and left you with a pounding headache for hours. Without hesitation, the others offered to accompany you on the train, but you insisted they Floo ahead to Godric’s Hollow — it took a lot of convincing, but they finally agreed, (they’re not the only ones spoiled; they couldn’t refuse you, too.) With the exception of James, who wanted to be there when you saw his home for the first time. You nearly cried when you saw how well-loved their manor was; rose shrubs dipped in snow, Sirius’s motorcycle parked outside, a mailbox with poorly painted shapes, the fences covered in Christmas lights, and the amount of shoes by the door. From outside, you could hear the laughter and warm conversations.

“It was fine,” You say in a daze.

Lily sees right through you — and frowns sadly. “You alright?”

Were you?

You catch sight of the moving photographs of James and you finally reach your breaking point. There’s a swell in your throat that you can’t seem to push down. There’s a photo of James, Lily, Remus and Sirius; James is in his Quidditch jersey, raising the Golden Snitch high up in the air, Remus is twirling Lily, his arms around her waist, and Sirius is holding up a charmed banner that says: Gryffindor Rules! Slytherin Sucks! Except For My Darling Angel Love Of My Life Most Beautiful And Gorgeous Perfect Brilliant Girlfriend!

There are hints of life all around the manor. Remus’s textbooks and scarf are laid by the coffee table. Lily’s O.W.L. marks are framed on the wall, along with Dumbledore’s letters to James and Lily awarding them the position of Head Girl and Head Boy, as well as McGonagall’s previous letter to Remus that came with his Prefect badge years ago. There’s a spot dedicated to Peter, filled with a photograph of him awkwardly holding his Herbology test, one that he scored a hundred and twelve percent on. It’s a wall dedicated to them, you realize.

Then, you find it.

Right there, up above James’s spot, and beside Sirius’s display of beyond perfect Transfiguration exam marks, and a picture of him and Remus kissing each side of your face.

It’s a space on that wall just for you.

James follows your gaze and rubs the back of his head, ears tinged with a shade of deep pink. “Mum left a space when I first told her about you. I-It’s yours, you can put anything you want there.”

“I can’t,” You whisper, lips quivering as your heart cracks into a million pieces. It’s too much.

James blinks. “Can’t? It’s yours, I promise. Mum won’t mind. You can even hang your dumb Montrose Magpies poster and I won’t tear it down — Marauders’ honor. I can help you if you want. I-I’m not good as decorating as Lily, but I paid attention to your boring explanation of color theory and I know that you hate this shade of—”

“James, I can’t do this.”

That’s all you say before you run out of the door.

(And you’re absolutely delusional if you think James won’t follow you out that door and into the brewing snowstorm.)

You hear James call out to you, but you opt to ignore him and clutch your winter coat tighter around your body, shivering in the blowing wind, trudging through the deep snow through your heeled boots — designer couldn’t help you now even if you tried. You sniff, the salty taste of your tears dripping to your lips, chest tightening with a foreign kind of pain, and the frost nipping at your fingers. You give up after a few minutes, falling to the ground with an anguished cry, hand clutching the front of your chest as you struggle to breathe.

James reaches you in a matter of minutes, draping his jacket over you, barely flinching as the cold welts his bare skin. Frantically, he wipes the tears from your eyes, a pained expression on his face as he sees you cry helplessly. “Come on, dove, it’s not safe out here. Let’s go back home, yeah? I’m sorry for upsetting you. I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry — I’m so sorry, dove, please don’t cry, it’s killing me to s–see you like this.” Tears fall from his eyes, and he begins stuttering from the cold, but you can’t go back to the manor. “What did I do? Please tell me so I can fix it. I love you—I’m sorry.”

You bat his chest. “G–Go home, Jamie. I’ll just take the train back to the castle.”

“What?” He shakes his head, grabbing onto your hands. “Y–You can’t. Not in this weather. You’ll get sick if you try to walk back to the station.”

You withdraw from his hold as you back away from James, slipping into the ice-cold mask you know so well.

James rises in an instant, reaching for you. “No, no, no, no, no. You don’t get to do that. Not now. Not with me. Please, just come home and I-I’ll fix it.”

“Goodbye, James,” You tell him firmly, clenching your jaw as you look him straight in the eyes.

He grimaces. “That won’t work on me, princess, and you know it. Don’t push me away—please.”

“Go home, James!” You yell bitterly, pivoting on your heel as you march through the thick inches of snow, hearing Remus and Lily’s voice grow louder in the distance. “Just go!”

He grits his teeth, nails digging deep into the palms of his hand. “You’re a coward if you walk away from here—from us—right now!” James shouts through chattering teeth and stray tears. “And I hate cowards more than anything!”

You don’t look back.

(Later that night, James stares blankly at the fireplace, tossing twigs now and then. He’s all out of tears. Remus crosses his legs as he sits beside James and offers him a steaming mug of hot chocolate.

“Don’t want one,” He mutters, words coarse from earlier, head turning away from Remus’s gift. “Just want her.”

Remus sets the beverage on the ground before pulling James’s head down to his chest, gently wiping the tears from his eyes as he wraps the blanket around both of them. He presses a soft kiss to James’s hair.

“I said I hated her,” James says weakly. “I don’t—I never will. I just hate that she’s out there spending Christmas all alone. She could be here—with us. I hate not knowing that she’s safe, or that she thinks I don’t love her anymore—that’s a bloody lie, Moony. I adore her. If anything, I don’t deserve her.”

James finds out that he does have more tears left in him. “I miss her. Bring her back, Rem, please.”

“You’ll cry yourself sick, love.” Remus wipes each tear away. “Let’s go to bed, yeah? Mornings do have a way of bringing miracles to us.” Because after a night of excruciating pain under the moon’s command, he wakes up to sunlight, and there you all are — smiling down at him like he is deserving of love; and maybe Remus can’t fault you for running away.

You’d kiss him gently and tell him how proud you are of him for coming back to you.

Remus only hopes you come back to them, too.)

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

(1976; CURRENTLY, IN THE PAST.)

“AND THAT, dear Harry, is how I humiliated Lucius Malfoy in fifth-year.” Your eyes gleam wickedly as you rest your arms on the school desk. “If he ever bothers you in your time, just mention my name—oh, I wish I could see the look on his face when he realizes I’m haunting him from my grave. Tell him, okay?”

Harry nods excitedly. “Definitely.”

“Got anymore stories?” He asks.

You cackle menacingly. “Boy, do I ever. Let me tell you about the one time Beckett McLaggen took me out on a date to Madam Puddifoot’s!”

Harry grimaces. “Do I even want to hear about this?”

“Oh, pish-posh.” You dismiss him with a wave. “You do, this story is hilarious. Now that I look back on it, Sirius was quite cross with him for the rest of the day—how strange. I wonder why.”

Harry stares at you in disbelief. “You’re joking.”

“I most certainly am not, Harry Potter.”

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

(1974; ORIGINAL TIMELINE.)

AN EAR-PIERCING scream wakes you up in the middle of the night. You snatch your wand from under your pillow, heart thudding against your chest in fear — last year, the Prewett twins decided it was funny to break into the girls’ quarters at midnight; you get a month worth of detention for hitting Gideon with the Expulso curse and suspension from class for two weeks, while the twins get away with a slap on the wrist and have the time of their lives spreading rumors of you being a Death-Eater.

Endora shoots up to her feet as well, staring at you in panic — then the girl screams again, and you realize it’s Allegra.

You sigh in relief, lowering your wand before saying to Endora, “I-It’s alright. I’ll handle it.”

“Are you sure?” Endora asks timidly, gnawing at her lip and wincing when Allegra wails once more.

“Certain,” You respond, yawning.

As Endora climbs back into her bed, you slip into Allegra’s side, holding her head to your chest, brushing your fingers through her hair and untangling the knots. Like most of the Greengrass women, she was of ethereal beauty — silky blonde hair, smooth and fair skin, deep blue eyes that enchant wizards and witches alike. But her cheeks have gone sallow from exhaustion, eyes devoid of any emotion, and her skin now sunken into her bones.

“I don’t want to marry him—I can’t! He’s old enough to be my father!” Allegra sobs violently, desperate for anyone to hear her, but no one really ever hears their cries from the dungeon. “They said they’d wait until I graduated—they promised! I’m supposed to marry him this summer!”

Your heart breaks for your friend — there’s nothing you can do but hold her until she’s cried every bit of her soul out.

“I hate them,” Allegra whispers to you; she had been shedding tears for hours, trembling in your arms until morning finally came.

“I know,” You say defeatedly.

“I wish I was dead,” She replies lifelessly. “He can’t marry a dead bride.”

“Don’t say that,” You beg as you hug her tight; afraid to lose her to the world that has worn her down. “Please.”

Allegra sinks into her pillows, and you follow in suit, hesitantly laying your head beside hers. She stares at the ceiling dully. “The world is so, so cruel to us daughters sometimes. And it’ll be cruel to our daughters, and their daughters. When will it end?”

“I don’t know,” You say honestly.

Allegra hums, neither disappointed nor surprised, and turns away to lay on her side. “Pansy,” She mumbles.

“What?”

“If we lived in a better world and I married for love, I’d want to name my daughter Pansy — like the flower.”

(Later that day, you are given detention for beating Evan Rosier to a pulp. He makes a joke about dirty blood, and you snap — you are tired of laughing and pandering to the arrogant men in your life. This is the first time you publicly defy your parents, and it felt good — more than good, it was liberating. It’s like breathing fresh air for the first time. Then, you earn a second detention for storming up to the Gryffindor common room and punching Fabian Prewett in the face — because fourth-year boys had no business sneaking into the girls’ dorm in the middle of the night for some stupid prank — and you threaten him by pointing the tip of your wand deep into his neck, demanding they apologize to you, Allegra, and Endora.

You get what you want, naturally — as princesses do. You decide then that you’re going to create a world where girls like Allegra don’t cry anymore.)

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

(1976; CURRENTLY, IN THE PAST.)

HARRY TWINGES WHEN he hears the end of your fourth or fifth story of the afternoon — no wonder you had been so angered by his being in your room. “I-I’m sorry—”

“Yesterday was hardly your fault,” You interrupt him. “There’s no controlling where magic brings you, not in your case. You didn’t know, but now you know. I don’t hold it against them — anymore. Fifteen-year-old boys can be stupid, and at least they’ve learned from their mistakes. You should have seen your mother — erm, Lily — she looked like she was ready to kill them after finding out what they had done. Even Molly was cross with the twins, and you know how loyal Molly is to her family.”

Oh, Harry knows.

And Hermione knows it all too well.

“Others call us evil, conniving and cruel, Harry,” You tell him grimly, “But I will protect my own, no matter what I have to do.”

At that moment, Harry thinks he understands why some people come to fear Slytherin.

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

(1978; ORIGINAL TIMELINE.)

“LOOK, LILY-PAD, the princess is drooling again.”

You open your eyes to glare at Sirius. “I don’t drool, idiot.”

Lily chortles as she presses a kiss to your shoulder. “Of course you don’t, princess.”

Currently, you’re lying on a shabby loveseat that is too small to hold the three of you; it’s the only furniture in the new cottage you call home, where Potter Manor was right across the street. (Euphemia was ecstatic to have you all nearby — the lovely woman was sprite for her age, but you notice the way she stops to sit and catch her breath, Sirius and James hovering over her attentively; you’re good at pretending, so you pretend that the Potters will be around forever.) Some rooms are dusty with cobwebs, walls unfinished, with the floors creak under your feet, and there’s no other place you’d rather call home.

You’re in between Sirius and Lily; your lips swollen from their kisses, cheeks flushed and the column of your throat graced with love marks. It’s the most beautiful set of jewelry you’ve ever worn, not even burmese rubies could compare. Lily’s hand rests under your jumper, Sirius’s thigh wedged between your own. While peace blankets the three of you, James and Remus have yet to come home from their task given by the Order.

“You need a haircut, my love,” You mumble drowsily, pulling at one of the dark ringlets — it’s gone past his shoulders now. He captures your hand and leaves a delicate kiss on your fingertips.

Lily buries her nose in your hair. “She’s right, Siri.”

“I’m always right.” You pout.

Sirius, love-sick fool that he is, smiles as he tilts your chin with his finger and ensnares you in a kiss that leaves you breathless. “Course you are — our girl’s bloody brilliant, isn’t she, Lily-pad?”

“Without a doubt.”

You roll your eyes at their antics, rolling around so that your back is pressed to Sirius’s chest — they’re not fooled, however; Lily sees the way your eyes flicker in amusement and the way your lips threaten to curve up into a smile. She traces the swell of your lips with her thumb, to the dip of your nose, and to the apples of your cheek. Sea-green eyes beam at you.

“I love you,” says Lily, committing every inch of you to her memory as she wears a melancholic smile. “I don’t know who told you that you don’t deserve to be loved, but they were wrong. You are so precious to us, dove, you don’t even know how much. This right here is real — and nothing could ever change that.”

As it turns out, you did have more smiles to give — only the happy ones; not the fake, courteous smiles that you had given to your mother’s friends in the past. You come to intertwine your hand with Lily’s, the one that had been resting on your cheek, tenderly wiping the tears that pooled within your eyes. Your heart could burst from your chest. They had a habit of wringing every emotion out of you; of making love feel real, not just a myth from a Muggle storybook. And you find, that you didn’t mind this particular habit of theirs. In the comforts of the place you call home, where you irrefutably belong, you are free to seek their arms and fall into their love, and the best part is where you get to love them right back.

How lucky you are.

“Let’s get married,” You blurt out, holding your breath, feeling Sirius’s hand on your waist stiffen.

“What?” Lily gasps breathlessly.

You smile up at Lily. “Let’s get married. All of us. I don’t care where, o–or about the rings, let’s just get married. With the war going on, we deserve s–something good.”

Lily sobs as she nods excitedly. “Yes. Oh my Gods—we’re getting married!”

Sirius stares at you in wonder. “Bloody hell, dove, give a guy some warning, would you?”

You grin. “Is that a yes?”

“It’s a yes — forever.” Sirius dives in to kiss you senseless. “Couldn’t get rid of us now even if you tried.”

“I don’t think I’d want to, anyway.”

Right then, the rickety door slams open, and you hear the loves of your life calling out for the three of you. Followed by the heavy thud of Dragonhide boots plunking down onto the floor

“We’re home!” James announces in the entryway.

Lily wastes no time in shooting up from the sofa and welcoming them home with quite a unique greeting:

“We’re all getting married!”

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

(1976; CURRENTLY, IN THE PAST.)

“That ring is an heirloom passed down to the children in our family,” You tell Harry, pointing to the band around his finger. “It’s meant to symbolize our loyalty and duty to our House. My mother said I would have earned it only when I became a wife to Ferguson Bulstrode.” You chuckle at Harry’s perturbed grimace. “No, I didn’t marry him — thankfully. After Allegra. . . I—I. . . I couldn’t bear it. If I was going to marry, it would be on my own terms, and it would be for love, nothing less. Then, if my child wanted it, I’d give them this ring. I want to leave behind a legacy that I created. When I was younger, I’d resigned to a fate that was forcefully carved by someone else’s hand.”

You shake your head. “I want to die being remembered by those who loved me. Otherwise, I was never truly alive.”

Harry won’t let that happen, he won’t ever let your name be forgotten. He’ll share of your kindness to his friends, of your bravery and loyalty. Hermione will love your fondness of Muggle musicals and how you stood up to Lily’s defense in a world that ostracized her for being different. He’ll remind Remus of your love for him, that he had brought you hope in times of despair. Harry is going to make sure the world knows you had been so full of life with endless love to give. You are going to be remembered in the way Voldemort never will.

“What do the words mean?” He stares at the writing: Tempus Edax Rerum.

You smile. “Time, devourer of all things.”

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

(1978; ORIGINAL TIMELINE.)

“REMUS—THE MUGGLES ARE stuck in the telly again!”

Remus snickers as he takes the vacant space beside you on the loveseat, now sewn up with care and spattered with knitted quilts and throw pillows — still too small to carry three people but hasn’t given out yet, anyway. He takes Lily’s legs over his lap, swiftly stealing a kiss from your lips. “It’s a film, dove, they’re acting.”

You purse your lips. “They’re trapped inside, then?”

Lily snorts into her tub of chocolate fudge ice cream. “Not quite, princess, it’s recorded. Movies are like moving photographs — but they’re an hour long with sounds.”

“Oh.” You turn your attention back to the screen, back to the film Lily had been watching. You had to admit — the story of Sandy and Danny was an interesting one. “Lily-pad, she’s singing — again.”

Sirius hushes you from where he was cuddling James on the other couch. “She’s supposed to sing, dove, it’s a musical.”

“Well, yes,” You begin, and James groans into Sirius’s chest, “But they should just talk instead of singing all the time — Sandy’s got a lovely voice, though. I just don’t understand why Danny’s treating her like that! Truthfully, I don’t like any of Sandy’s new friends, other than Frenchy — she’s harmless. If I was Sandy I’d move on from Danny — but then again, that hair and those muscles, and his leather jacket! I can’t blame her.”

Sirius glowers at you. “You like his leather jacket?”

“His hair?” James exclaims in horror.

Remus chuckles as he tucks you in his side, kissing your temple. “If I were you, dove, I’d be quiet and just watch the film.”

“Oh, no, no.” Sirius barely glances at the television as he pauses the film and stands up to point an accusatory finger at you. “Since when were you into leather jackets? Do you think those are cool? Since when? Jamie, should I get one? Let’s unpack this, right now. And his muscles, really?”

Your eyes roll to the back of your head. “Play the film, Black, I want to see the end of their love story.”

“I’m telling Euphemia on you!”

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

(1976; CURRENTLY, IN THE PAST.)

“—and then we realized that we accidentally locked Hermione in with the troll.” Harry’s arms flail about as he shares some of his adventures with you — it had only been fair. He felt like a young boy again, entering Hogwarts for the first time as he watched you listen to him intently, gasping at tale of the vanishing glass and scolding him when he says he and Ron had decided to go searching for Hermione, and by extension, the troll.

Your eyes grow wide. “A troll? In Hogwarts? They can’t have, not unless—”

“Someone let it in—I know!” Harry grins. “You’re not going to believe who let the troll in the castle.”

You snap your fingers, “Malfoy, the older one. I know that lump’s got something to do with this. Can’t have been Snape or Quirrell.”

“Just you wait.” Harry’s eyes twinkle with mischief. “—and so, Professor McGonagall finds us, and can you believe it? She awards us for dumb luck! Then. . .”

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

(1979; ORIGINAL TIMELINE.)

IT HAD COME AS A surprise when you volunteered to join the Order of the Phoenix. You wanted to scoff at their shocked faces — was it so surprising that you wanted to protect your family? They let Severus Snape join their ranks, and you’re fairly certain that you’re a better fighter and survivalist than him — not the better liar, however, he can have that one. The week before, you and the others had an argument that lasted for the whole day. They did not want you in harm’s way, and you would rather die than stay at home, waiting idly for them to return, when you could be out there alongside them.

(“It’s not some game out there!” Remus runs through his hair in frustration — he had always been so careful to never raise his voice at you, but this one time, he needed you to back down. “Every time you step into a raid, there’s a possibility of you dying, don’t you understand that? And even if you survive — you’ll have blood on your hands, and it does not wash away no matter how many times you try, trust me, we know.”

“So what?” You throw your hands up in the air, equally aggravated. “I just stay here like some. . . some pet waiting for their owners to come home?”

“Yes!” Lily angrily replies. “That is the whole point of us joining the Order — so you get to live another day. So we all have a chance at this new world without a war. Let us protect you!”

You grind down on your jaw. “You have got another thing coming, if you think I’m not going to fight tooth and nail for my future.”

James slams a fist onto the kitchen counter. “There are horrors out there you can’t even imagine. I-It’s worse than we thought. It’s our every nightmare come to life.”

You raise your chin defiantly. “Then we face it together.”)

Each day, you survive, and each day the five of you return home — scarred and bruised, but safe within the arms of one another. When you collapse and crumble, it is only for the walls of your home to witness.

Now a month into autumn, you are on your first task without Sirius, James, Lily or even Remus. Instead, you are assigned by Dumbledore to Knockturn Alley along with Peter Pettigrew and Gideon Prewett. How strange time was, years ago you’d never associate with the proud Gryffindors, and now you had to trust them to guard your back. Everyone had to grow up quickly during war, even pranksters.

The alley was quiet — too quiet for your liking. You had been on alert since the moment you apparated into the area, wand at your ready. The back of your neck prickled with goosebumps as you kept an ear out for any sign of movement.

Peter shivers and you glance at him — he’s become far too skinny, constantly shrinking into himself out of fear. And while you want to comfort him, you keep your eyes up ahead. Still, there's a nagging feeling that you can’t quite make out. It’s different from all the other times you’ve been asked to search and rescue.

“Don’t you feel like there’s something wrong?” You ask Gideon, eyes snapping to the flock of crows flying overhead.

“Dunno, kid,” Gideon says, nudging your shoulder with pressed lips. “Everything about this is freaking me out. The place is too empty.”

“I get what you mean,” You reply, swallowing your own nervousness. Without waiting for the rest, you speed up your pace. “I’ll scout ahead, who knows what’s been here before us. I don’t want to risk any of our lives, so let’s be careful. Gideon, ward the area while I check for any cursed objects, last time you almost got your arm cut off by a newspaper of all things. And Peter, could you. . . Peter?”

When you turn to check behind you, it all happens so fast.

“Avada Kedavra!”

You scream as Gideon’s deathly pale body falls to the floor.

“No!”

You aren’t given a moment to rush to his side — someone digs their wand in the side of your neck, and you stiffen in their hold. It’s not until they hiss in your ear that you recognize the voice.

“Rosier.” You spit, biting down on your lip when he presses the tip of his wand further into your flesh.

“Stupid witch,” He taunts, eyes dilating with vengeance. “Where are your lovers now?”

“Jealous?” You claw at his arms, chest heaving up and down. “We don’t have room for one more, sorry.”

“Shut up!” He pushes you to the ground in blind rage, and that’s all the opening you need.

“Expulso!”

Each curse you send his way lands on his cloaked body, sending him staggering backwards. With ease, you deflect each spell he counters with. You’re winning, he is growing tired, and perhaps that is why you let your guard down.

“Accio wand!”

The magic fizzles out, and the spell dies on your lips. As you swivel your head to find out who’s stolen your wand, you expect to find another Death Eater — except it’s Peter. Just Peter Pettigrew, quivering in his boots with tears and snot dripping down his face, your wand in his free hand. You furrow your brows — it doesn’t make sense.

“Peter?” You call out.

“Crucio!”

The curse finds its home in your body — and it sinks deep into your flesh, grinding your bones until you slump to the ground, wriggling as you draw blood from your lips, refusing to let them hear an ounce of your pain. Blood trickles down your nose as you hear Evan Rosier dancing around you in glee. You know this curse well; the sound of your father condemning you gleefully echo in your head. You crawl over to Gideon — hand desperately reaching for his shirt.

“Crucio!” Rosier grabs you by the hair and howls with laughter. “Scream for me again—Crucio!”

It’s as though someone had begun to rip you in half. Your bones shift and crack with every uttered curse. The veins in your eyes have popped and through bloody vision, you see Peter cowering away from you.

“You—fucking—traitor,” You gurgle, throat welling up with blood that’s risen from your stomach. “They’ll—never—forgive you—never.”

“Crucio! Crucio! Crucio! Come on, witch — SCREAM! Look at her go, Pettigrew, crawling like some pathetic worm.”

You lay in your owl pool of blood, wearing a body that is marred and lacerated. But you see something in Gideon’s hand. I’m sorry, you want to tell him. I’ll get you home to Molly, you promise, please lend me your magic this once. With every last bit of your strength, just as Rosier directs another curse at you — one you know you won’t survive — you snatch the wand from Gideon’s hand and tear the last of your magic from your throat.

“Defodio!”

You wait with a bated breath as silence fills the alley; lucky to have remembered Professor Flitwick’s quick remark as to how the slight difference in pronouncing a charm could alter its effect. Rosier stands on shaky legs, a stream of blood leaking from the corner of his mouth. You watch as he looks down to his chest, where a gaping hole now lies instead of where his ribcage and heart should be. As Gideon had done before him, Evan Rosier crashes to the ground.

That just leaves one more problem.

Peter scurries to your side the moment Rosier can hurt him no longer. “I-I’m sorry—I’m sorry. I had to. . . T–They killed my mum, they killed M–Mary, and t–they said I would die too if I d–didn’t do this. I’m sorry. Y–Your father was there, too. He said he would take you in, let you l–live if you joined us. W–We can live, t–there’s still a chance for us to survive.”

Your fingers are bent at unsightly angles, the remnants of the Torture Curse still flowing through your veins, but your face contorts in anger as you let your hand curl around his neck. He sobs louder, and though your grip is weakening — you make sure he looks into your eyes, that he feels your touch.

“I’d rather—die.” You say through gritted teeth, nails drawing blood from his grimy skin. “You’ll die too—you’ll feel my blood on your skin—everywhere you go, Peter.”

Peter shakes his head, now clumsily pushing his wand down to the center of your chest. “Y–You were the only o–one who d–didn’t laugh at me. N–Not like the others.”

“When they find out—you’re dead, Pettigrew.” You laugh darkly as more blood exits your body through your lips. “There’s nowhere you can hide—you’re a dead man.”

“P-Please die,” Peter cries out, each killing spell coming out as a garbled whisper. “Please die, s–so I can live. I c–can’t fight anymore, I’m tired.”

Your vision goes a hazy shade of white, Peter’s silhouette fading away to the familiar scenery of your cottage in Godric’s Hollow.

Oh.

Dying is less painful than you had expected it to be. It’s like coming home after a day’s work.

You just wanted to rest now.

The world caves in on you, and you barely hear Peter’s next words.

“Avada Kedavra.”

(It’s past midnight when Peter Pettigrew arrives at Grimmauld Place, where it’s been altered to host the members of the Order, Lily sobs in relief and gathers him in her arms.

You’ll feel my blood on your skin.

You’re a dead man.

Dead, dead, dead, dead, dead, dead.

“Oh, I’m so glad you’re home safe — welcome home — thank the Gods you’re alive,” Lily blabbers through her tears, checking his face for any major injuries. “Merlin, what happened? There’s too much blood on you. It’s on your shirt and your face.”

“It’s not mine,” says Peter hoarsely.

Sirius’s gaze darkens, arms crossed over his jacket as he leaned against the wall. “Where is she?”

Lily nods, standing on her tiptoes to search for any sign of you. “Peter? I–Is she alright? Has something happened to her?”

Peter stays silent for a moment too long, and he finds himself slammed against the wall behind him, Sirius snarling in his face as he seizes the front of Peter’s soiled shirt. “Where the fuck is she, Pettigrew?”

Peter begins to weep. “I–It was an ambush. None of us saw it coming. Gideon r–ran. She was taking on two Death-Eaters at once and I–I was too far away.”

Lily collapses to the ground with a heart-wrenching scream.

Sirius growls as he drives his fist to the wall, inches away from Peter’s face. “Where is her body?”

“It was a disintegration spell.” With Severus Snape — brought to the Malfoy Manor to be made as an example of what happens to blood-traitors.

James pushes Sirius out of the way and grabs a hold of Peter, knocking his head against the concrete. “It should have been you—” James snaps at Peter. “If it came down to you or her—you should have saved her!”

“W-What?” Peter stammers, eyes wide. “She chose to save m–me.”

James sneers at him. “You should have just died.”)

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

(1996; CURRENTLY, IN THE PRESENT.)

ST. JEROME’S GRAVEYARD had exactly one visitor. Remus Lupin sits in between James and Lily’s graves, a bottle of firewhiskey in his hand — four empty at his side. He must be going crazy. There’s no funeral for Sirius as there’s no body to actually bury, Harry is presumed missing after an attack in Diagon Alley, and your name stares back at him mockingly. He tries not to dwell on your passing — there have been too many holes, too many details left unsaid; and he knows just the rat who has all the answers. Unfortunately, Wormtail won’t come out of whatever hole he’s crawled into. Either him, or Severus.

He sighs, rubbing the temples of his head to ease the growing pains.

You are the first to be buried of the five. Like Sirius, there had been no recovered body to lay to rest, but they asked for a compromise instead. Your name is engraved under Euphemia’s in her tombstone, and Remus figures it’s the fitting place to leave you be — with your mother, welcoming you home with open arms. He hopes you’re at peace, wherever you are. (Because, honestly, at this point, he might just fucking follow you.)

Remus takes another swig of his alcohol, laughing bitterly to himself. He glances at James’s headstone and raises his bottle to him. “Not even in death, huh?”

He downs the last of the drink, rising to his tremulous legs. Remus gathers the flower bouquets he had bought earlier this morning; lilies-of-the-valley for Lily, white carnations for Euphemia, forget-me-nots for you, and for James — Remus leaves a moving photograph of him and Sirius; it’s a snapshot taken by Lily during the wedding as James dips his head low to kiss Sirius. Remus thinks it’s a wonderful memory to remember them by.

“Take care of them for me, Jamie.”

And that is all the goodbyes Remus has the strength for.

end note. i think i was crying the whole time i was writing this part, LMAO. i should be able to wrap things up in the next one. important!! there is actually a scene i was hesitant to include, but i ended up writing anyway. it's the whole part where allegra greengrass breaks down, and it was difficult for me to decide because i knew the implications; that i had a strong underlying message in that part, and i don't want it to be misconstrued or anything. pls pls tell me if it comes off as offensive, i definitely don't want to hurt anyone. nevertheless, thank you again so so so much for reading!! if you spot a plot hole, no you didnt!! i hope the time-jumps weren't too confusing! again, thank you so so much for reading!!

#hp angst #hp fluff #hp imagine #hp x reader #james potter x reader #lily evans x reader #marauders angst #marauders fluff #marauders imagine #marauders x reader #sirius black x reader #poly!marauders x reader #poly!marauders fluff #remus lupin x reader #sunny's hp fics

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officialspec · 1 month

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can you pleeeeease post your dm sexuality/gender hcs on here.... 🥺 i don't have a twitter but i wanna know. it's like a pandora's box to me now i'm like scratching at the door. let me in

heres the link 2 the thread (mild spoilers btw) ill post a transcript under the cut for ppl who dont have twitter

first off i think laios relationship to sex is super removed for like 50 reasons without even getting into his actual sexuality

he grew up in a place with very repressed ideas about sex and has a lot of fear about asserting his presence in situations

his special interest takes precedent over any social interactions he has and the level of closeness he feels towards people

he has a hard time figuring out his feelings towards other people both bc hes autistic and bc he has freaky deviantart fetishes that make sex in his mind a very abstract concept <- this one is me projecting mostly

that aside, i feel like gender-wise hes attracted to ppl so infrequently it may as well be entirely case-by-case

the idea of him being gay appeals to me from the 'raised with traditional values he Does Not fit into/hasnt begun to question it yet' perspective, i lauve characters who put a lot of stock into performing a role thats expected of them and fail miserably for unknown (gay) reasons

from his perspective tho i dont think he would ever really label himself anything. hes going to pride parades in the shirt+shorts Ally Fit to clap for his friends

hes also 'cis by indifference' imo... i love tmasc laios hcs it just doesnt mesh w his personal history to me. i do think hes got some kind of therian gender thing going on (not trans or nb but a secret third thing) but i cant see him changing anything abt his appearance/pronouns to accommodate that post-canon. hes just doin his thang

falin is in a similar boat for gender. i LOOVE tfem falin but the village repression thing has been bugging at me so i dont think i subscribe to it anymore (canon purist sorry) BUT if u hold that hc i am clapping and cheering regardless

instead i was propagandised to a while back and i LOVEEE the idea that being fused w a male dragon and the residual traits she has after being revived have given her a type of gender euphoria she didnt realise she was missing. a little boygirl swagger if u will

sexuality-wise i also dont think she would care to label herself, shes a lesbian by virtue of only being interested in One woman and zero other people. without marcille i do think shes still exclusively attracted to women, and i like to imagine she might experiment around a bit during her travels post-canon (pre-relationship). hearing abt it might put marcille on the news though

marcille is very simple That is a transfem lesbian. she cant get pregnant, shes obsessed w being femme and all that combined w her half-tallman struggles to be seen as 'properly feminine' by elf standards reads very transfeminine to Me. also her bookboy crush REEKS of comphet its not subtle

i think a more comfortable marcy might have the space to experiment w being elf butch like her manga boys but thats mainly self indulgence for me. utena could have saved her

senshi is gay his whole thing is abt not being able to perform dwarven masculinity to a proper standard (soft hearted, not as strong or rugged as his peers) which is like gaycoding 101. also hes a bear. homosexuality be damned by boy can work a grill

adding onto this i rly think senshi got some type of euphoria from being an elf in the changeling chapters. he was feeling himself so much i think he was using it as an outlet to have fun being a little fem and fruity without needing to justify it. do u understand

i dont have any particular opinions abt him gender-wise beyond that. his bulge is an essential part of his character design but i also saw a transmasc senshi a couple days ago that made me nod my head thoughtfully so i could go either way

chilchuck is cis and bisexual this is just canon. not even just his old man crush on senshi altho i do think thats very funny but they put his ass on a cover themed like hes in a dating sim with all the men and women in the cast and then slapped it in front of a chapter called "bicorn". i simply cant pass up that kind of overt signaling. its so fucking funny what else is there to say truly

izu to ME is a transmasc aroace lesbian (this one has the least basis in canon i just know it to be true) shes a little genderfluid with it nd uses he/she i think. i like to imagine she consistently uses masculine personal pronouns to refer to herself either way tho (boku, ore)

i think izutsumis gender/sexuality is entirely secondary in priorities to her body dysphoria. she has a lot of learning and acceptance 2 do before that kind of self discovery is on the docket and in my mind eschewing gender on some level is part of that. get sillay

shuro is cishet but at least he feels bad about it. next

kabru is a transmasc bisexual this is also practically text. his whole thing of being treated like a doll by milsiril to put in pretty dresses, plus i think it would be pretty easy for him to stealth in the west since tallmen are seen as inherently more masculine than elves

(i also think changing genders is just more common for elves. theyre androgynous enough that it wouldnt be hard and like who in their right miiiiind would be the same gender for 500 years. dwarves too)

i think he started presenting as male socially in the west but didnt need to consider medical transition until he moved to a more mixed culture where other races might see him as a woman

i dont have to explain the bisexual part. have u seen him

namari is a butch bisexual this is just canon straight up. shes not transmasc but i think the default settings for dwarven women is like 4 years of T regardless. shes a hit at all the local cruising spots despite her renfaire nerdisms i know this

and just bc im thinking abt em kiki and kaka are identical and kiki is tfem :} theyre both attracted to women but kaka is a sub so i forgive him

THATS ALL 4 NOW theres a lot of characters so i cant have thoughts abt all of them at once but i hope this was good. im right about everything forever as per usual

#ask #headcanons #passes out. my Mind #dunmesh

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punkshort · 9 months

Text

'the way we were' masterlist

18+, minors please do not interact, warnings/tags included for each chapter

Paring: Joel x F!Reader, pre-outbreak and post outbreak (no Y/N)

AU (I kept was the outbreak and common characters. Joel's backstory is different, and the way he finds Jackson is different. No Ellie... yet.)

Fic Summary: You worked for Joel and Tommy a few months before the outbreak. When the outbreak happens, you and Joel get stuck traveling the country and keeping each other safe. Neither of you spoke about the feelings you had for one another pre-outbreak, and in a post-apocalyptic world, it seems like survival should be your only focus. But feelings can't be ignored forever.

Fic tags: Explicit Smut (18+ MDNI), Smut, unprotected sex, creampie, oral sex (m and f), fingering, masturbation (m and f), Language, Themes of death/depression that can be graphic at times, Canon-Typical Violence, Alcohol Use, Age Difference (Reader is 10 years younger than Joel), slow burn, mutual pining, angst, trauma, SA referencing later but I will put a big warning on those chapters

Status: complete

Look What We've Become - sequel

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Eighteen - Extra Scene

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Epilogue

I think most of these could be read stand alone, I tried to add a brief backstory to these if it was necessary

Chronological Order:

Moving Day

The Contractor

All Yours

Listen

Three Days (part one)

Recovery (part two)

credit to @cafekitsune for the dividers

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celtic-crossbow · 5 months

Text

Blood Ties Chapter 7

Series Masterlist

Warnings: Typical TWD violence and gore, vomiting, minor injury, confirmation of minor canonical character death

*Click here to be added to taglists.

Moodboard by @dannyo000 💙

The silence inside the truck was so uncomfortable that it teetered on the border of unbearable. Daryl hadn’t spoken a single word, not even when the caravan stopped to discuss forthcoming plans and you were invited to join. He didn’t have to speak. The intense glare that could have burned a hole through Rick’s head said everything his mouth didn’t.

You noticed Jacqui’s absence at once. There was an ache in your chest at her loss. She had been kind to you the few times you had interacted. You didn’t need an explanation. She had perished at the CDC. Whether or not it had been at Jenner’s hand was irrelevant. It had been his intent to trap you all there. In the end, it would still be blood on the doctor’s hands.

“So, we’re all in agreement? Fort Benning?” The former sheriff met the eyes of everyone as they nodded. “Alright, that’s settled. I think we need to discuss our means of travel. We’ll burn a helluva lot of fuel taking so many vehicles. Any suggestions?”

Looks were exchanged, but Dale spoke up first. “I know the RV is by far the worst on the fuel but it does provide space and a means of shelter beyond what the others do. I’m probably biased but there it is.”

“No, I think as long as we can keep the RV running, it should stay.” Lori agreed with a nod and a hand on the older man’s shoulder.

“Alright, okay.” Rick continued. “That still leaves four others.”

“We can ditch the van. Ride in the RV.” T-Dog offered quickly.

“I can lose the Jeep and ride with you, Lori, and Carl.” Shane leaned against the vehicle in question and awaited a response. Rick shook his head almost immediately.

“We’ll take Carol and Sophia, keep the kids together. You can go in the RV.”

The first emotion that passed over the other officer’s face was sour, you noticed, but swiftly turned into a compliant smile and nod. You narrowed your eyes but held your tongue. Not your circus, not your monkeys.

“M’a take the bike.” Daryl stated matter-of-factly, not even waiting for input before he dropped the tailgate of the truck. “Ya help me with this?” He waved a hand toward the truck bed with a glance at T-Dog.

“That’s good, Daryl. Real good. Lori, Carol, the kids, and I in the Cherokee. Daryl and Y/N on the bike. The rest in–”

“Jus’ me.” The redneck interjected, not looking away from the task of unloading the bike. You didn’t need confirmation to know what he meant.

“What?” Rick asked anyway.

“She can ride in the RV.” Daryl huffed. Rick raised his eyebrows but ended with shrugging a shoulder and moving on.

You, however, continued staring at the archer. It wasn’t public knowledge that the baby was Daryl’s. Amidst the panic and confusion at the CDC, no one took notice of the exchanges between the two of you. You assumed he’d like to keep it that way. Assumptions were all you had to go on at the moment because the bastard was refusing to speak to you! Still, if he continued with the very obvious disdain toward you, he was going to give himself away.

“Y/N?”

“Huh?” You turned to find all other eyes on you.

“Rick was asking if you’re okay being in the RV.” Lori was tilting her head, watching you with a look you didn’t really like. “Oh. Yeah, I’m fine wherever you want me.”

“Probably be more comfortable there.” Carol smiled that gentle smile of hers. “At some point, we’re gonna have to address the elephant in the room.” Shane’s tone was condescending. You curled your lip when he shifted to cross his arms and spit off to the side. His eyes remained on you, flickering down to your stomach and back up. You were starting to get the feeling he didn’t like you much.

Lucky for him, the feeling was mutual. “We’ve got time.” Lori interjected before you could even open your mouth. “One thing at a time. We need to find somewhere safe to stay first. Get off the road.” “She’s right.” Rick started grabbing the fuel cans and hoses to siphon the gas from the vehicles that were being left behind. The rest of the group scattered to move things and automobiles around, leaving you and Shane in a staring match. You wanted to smirk when he looked away first, granting you one last glance before disappearing around the RV.

“Anything I can do to help?” You walked up to the door of the RV as Dale stepped down. He gave you a sweet smile and traipsed out of your way, motioning to the inside.

“You don’t need to be pulling and tugging at things. You just go on inside.”

You snorted. “I’m pregnant, not an invalid. I can help.”

The older man was obviously torn but with a glance toward Andrea, he finally relented. Another story there, you supposed. “Maybe move some of the lighter bags and supplies from the other cars. They may have beat you to it, but that’s really all I know of that would be okay for you.”

“Okay, I’ll check with Lori.” You smiled at him before he went about with whatever he was doing in preparation to leave. You really did appreciate his concern but you were new to the group. You had to show them that you could be an asset. It wouldn’t do for you to end up on your own with a baby on the way. You made it to the back corner of the RV before you felt eyes searing into the back of your head. Maybe Shane had seen the exchange with Dale. Glancing over your shoulder, you locked eyes with Daryl. This time, it was you who looked away first.

You had chosen to all but hide in the back of the RV, on the bed with a book that Dale had let you borrow. You weren’t really reading as much as you were listening to the exchanges between Andrea and Shane. He was showing her about maintaining a gun. When she mentioned her father, you felt a twinge of pain in your chest.

The nausea had returned with a vengeance. Sips of water, you could handle with enough time in between. The constant rolling of your gut had you turning away from anything substantial. You knew you should eat. You needed to eat. Maybe when the next stop was made, you could ask about some crackers or something.

Lost in your head, it wasn’t until you heard Dale’s distressed exclamation that you actually looked up, leaning out to be able to see what was going on from your hovel in the back room.

“Oh jeez. Aw no. See a way through?”

You tossed the book to the foot of the bed and swung your legs over the edge to get to your feet. Glenn was suggesting to turn around for a bypass but Dale quickly shot down the idea.

“We can’t spare the fuel.”

“Jesus.” You whispered when you got your first glimpse of the disastrous cluster of cars and debris. As the RV idled, there was a pop and a white cloud drifted up in front of the windshield. “Shit.” You followed the others out the door, taking in the scene when you heard Daryl’s bike. The hunter weaved through the maze of vehicles and stopped in front of the RV.

The others discussed options, a conversation you purposefully avoided. They were including you but having a say in things was a totally different matter. You didn’t feel like you were there yet.

“There’s a whole bunch’a stuff we can find.” Daryl was right. The owners of the abandoned cars didn’t need the things they’d left behind in their panic. Except… not all of them had left. You could clearly see a corpse in the passenger side of a sedan. Was it a walker? Couldn’t be. It would have responded to the noise.

“This is a graveyard. I don’t know how I feel about this.”

“I’m with Lori. It feels like…grave robbing.” While Lori’s comment went ignored, yours earned a look from Shane that made your skin crawl. He eventually sneered before his expression smoothed out and he gave the order for everyone to go searching.

You stood still, biting your lip in hesitation. The thought of someone taking your father’s belongings from the camp just because he was dead made you see red. How could you possibly go along with this?

Maybe you could stay behind in the RV. Andrea was there, so it shouldn’t be a problem if—

“Go on.” Daryl gave you a shove you would almost define as gentle. It was the first time he had spoken to you since the CDC. You wanted to retort with something snarky, but what would that do other than piss him off more than he already was. “Grab anythin’ you think could be useful.”

“Okay.” You kept your tone soft, picking up your pace to catch up to him when he brushed past. “Can we talk?” You really did want to smooth things over. You told yourself that the connection with Daryl was solely physical, but now you’d be raising a child together in an apocalypse. That would definitely be easier if you could communicate on some level at least.

He never missed a step when he glanced at you while maneuvering between the automobiles. He’d peek in the windows of some but continued further out, probably to keep everyone else closer to your own cars.

“Nah.” He finally glowered, walking backwards away from you a few steps before turning around and disappearing behind a cargo van.

Sighing heavily, you took stock of your surroundings. There was no point in following after him. You didn’t have the energy anyway. The nausea was worsening and there was little to no water left in the RV. You allowed for a disgruntled breath, pressed a palm to your belly, and opened the driver door of the nearest car. The sooner everyone got what they needed, the better.

The smell of the decaying corpse was horrific and forced you to pull things out with one hand while the other pressed over your mouth and nose. Luckily there wasn’t much more than a suitcase that held some men’s clothing. You weren’t sure what the men could use so you left what was there, with the exception of one shirt. Strategically ripping, you fashioned a cover to tie around your face. You’d work faster with both hands.

After several minutes, you had found a damn treasure trove, including a beautiful knife in a holster that you had taken the liberty of securing around your thigh. It wasn’t a firearm but it was better than nothing.

You were climbing backwards out of the backseat of a little hatchback when you took a break to steady yourself. You were drenched in sweat and felt a little dizzy. Maybe it was time to gather your findings and go back to the others for a break. You had gone pretty far ahead.

The silence on the roadway was unnerving. You’d give almost anything for bumper to bumper traffic with an orchestra of angry shouts and sounding horns; for everything to go back like it was. You’d be in the woods at that time of day, tracking rabbits or squirrels. It didn’t take much to feed just you and your father. You didn’t have a smokehouse, so smaller game was ideal. You could still see his proud beam when you’d walk through the door.

Those days were gone now.

Back at your pile of finds, it occurred to you that you couldn’t carry it all back alone. Loath as you were to admit it, Daryl had been the closest. You pulled down your makeshift mask with a groan, but there was no other option unless you wanted to walk all the way back to the RV just to bring back help. They would likely demand you stayed put, but you didn’t want them to see you as incapable. Daryl was already annoyed with you, so requesting his assistance was your best bet.

Your steps were dragging by the time you made it to the cargo van where he had so casually rebuffed your request. Barely around the rear bumper, your stomach decided to rebel. You lurched forward with a repulsive retching sound, stomach muscles cramping from the force of the heaves. Your stomach was empty. Rancid acid and bile burned your throat, the intensity of your gagging ensuring you could be heard all the way at the RV.

Your stomach still contracted uncomfortably, excess saliva gathering in your mouth. You had just managed to wipe away any remnants on the sleeve of your flannel when a hand clamped down around your jaw. Fight or flight activated, you scrambled for the knife at your thigh, managing a single swipe before a hand caught your wrist.

“Quiet, goddamnit!” Daryl hissed faintly against your ear. He was pulling you toward the back of the van and hastily shoving you inside before climbing in himself. You loured at him and sheathed your weapon while he scrupulously pulled the doors closed.

“What—” His hand bore down over your mouth a second time, a finger raised to his lips. You only managed an indignant huff before something struck the side of the van with a thud. Vibrant orbs widened with realization that he had just saved your ass from what sounded like a sizable number of walkers.

Daryl haltingly lowered his hand as if you’d yell at him despite the threat lurking just outside. The man was sweaty and panting, as if he’d been running. Giving him once over you noticed the carmine liquid slowly saturating his shirt just above his hip.

Your movements were slow and deliberate to ensure silence. He didn’t seem to notice you until you were almost next to him, resulting in him reeling back with a vexed expression.

“You’re hurt.” You mouthed, reaching behind your head to untie the ripped section of fabric you had used as a mask. When you extended it toward the wound, he swatted at your hand. You couldn’t risk speaking so the two of you engaged in an intense staring contest. The hunter finally relented with a shake of his head, deeming alertness toward the flock of undead to be priority. You smirked and pressed the wadded strip against the injury.

He let out a grunt but stayed still, eyes remaining on the doors. It didn’t take long for the bleeding to let up, giving you a chance to peel back one side of the slice in his shirt. The wound was superficial, wouldn’t need stitches, but it was abundantly clear that you had nicked him when he grabbed you. You felt your stomach drop. Or maybe that was just the nausea.

“Think they moved on.” Daryl quietly informed you. Oblivious to your revelation, he opened one door, barely wide enough to see outside. “We can prolly head back to the— wha’?” He stopped short, your apologetic expression giving him pause.

“I didn’t know it was you. I didn’t mean to—”

The hunter rolled his eyes. “S’fine. Won’ kill me.”

While he was quick to dismiss the event, you still felt terrible. It could have been so much worse. The whole thing made your desire to talk things out with him that much more crucial. “Daryl, can you just listen to me for a second?”

There was the briefest of moments when you thought he was going to acquiesce. There was something more than anger in the way he looked at you. Then he was shaking his head. “We gotta get back. Check in with ev’ryone.” You grabbed his arm with both hands when he shifted to climb out. “M’serious. I ain’t doin’ this.”

“I get that you’re angry…with me.” You swallowed hard against the strange taste in your mouth, ignoring the protests of your inexorable stomach. “You have every right to be.” Daryl growled and snatched his arm away. He climbed out and stood just outside the door, clearly not confident enough with the degree of safety to leave you behind.

“Drop it, Y/N.” He warned.

You had climbed out and blocked his path, hands hovering in front of his chest. “The least you can let me do is—” It happened just as suddenly as before. You had no time to react. You could only clutch your abdomen and pitch forward, vomiting up what little bile that had accumulated since the last episode. All over his left boot. “—apologize.”

If it had been any other situation, the deadpan examination Daryl was currently giving his footwear would have been arguably hilarious.

“I’m, uh, sorry about that too.”

His eyes moved up to glare at you from beneath his lashes. You didn’t think a mess on his boot would be enough to really set off a man who spent the majority of his time identifying— and very often stepping in —animal waste. This was just the proverbial straw that broke the camel’s back. He took a step toward you. Though you didn’t think he’d hurt you, even for reasons beyond the baby, you couldn’t say you knew him well enough to bank on that theory. Therefore, you took a step back.

“Listen, woman, jus’ ‘cause ya got my kid inside ya don’t mean I hafta—” He cut off suddenly, angling his head in a way that was familiar to you. You did the same thing while hunting; listening for sounds to indicate an animal was nearby.

“What is it?”

He shushed you harshly. When you focused on the sounds around you rather than the whirlwind of thoughts in your own head, you could hear it too.

Your blood ran cold with dread.

“Sophia! Lori, there’s two walkers after my baby!”

Taglist:

@stitchintimefan @thegeorgiahuntsman @livingdeadblondequeen @deansapplepie @feral4daryl @walker-bait-1973 @lazyneonrabbitt @bizquake @littlelovingideas @ririi-3 @ankhmutes @blackvelveteen1339 @sokkasimp101 @lehhos @1ivinqdeadqir1main @loganlostitall @sshewonders @callmeyn @queenmizuki @crazyunsexycool @zehiiro @sunnybunnyy2 @gimalo135 @lothiriel9 @lilyevanstan1325 @gutsby @isakyakiisak @in-this-minute @eljaynosine_triphosphate @hutchersonsgurl @abbyreedus @wifeof-barnes @bananafire11 @graciepies @Alaaabdaldeen @georgiadixon @mfnqueen1 @esgoraths @fanngirl19

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petit-etoile · 5 months

Text

i need you when i'm falling apart

pairing . ⊱ astarion x tav wordcount . ⊱ 3,489 part one . ⊱ here . content warnings . ⊱ mentions of canon compliant temporary character death, spoilers for act iii endgame other tags . ⊱ canon compliant, character study, introspection, p.orn with plot, pwp, vignette, re-establishing relationship, blood drinking, m.issionary position, tav is gender neutral archiveofourown . ⊱ here .

taglist . ⊱ @azrielshadows1nger, @pandimoostuff, @faevi, @microskies, @foreverthemaraudersera, @queenofthespacesquids, @claryvoyantfray, @6doodlaang14, @anne-isnotokay, @itshimbotime, @yeeteth-the-raven, @sessils,@8-opossums, @worryknotdear, @abirdaboxandachippedcup, @ghosts-and-ink, @b4um3pfl4um3, @gunslingerorchid, @hypopxia, @m0ssytrees, @erysione, @odette-attackattack, @catching-fire-in-the-wind, @ashrio20, @wills-mental-illness, @queenofcarrotflowers-s, @kirahlene, @lavenderslemonade, @candyladycry, @chonkercatto, @foxxyhun, @nyxmainex, @angelmawss2, @godoffuckedupcats, @raviolixxx be added . ⊱ here .

summary . ⊱ You have learned to be good. It's time Astarion learns to be forgiven.

During the heart of spring, Astarion spends more time trying to avoid you than he does trying to catch up with you. You’re not even sure why he agreed to travel alongside you — but you do not ask. You press your lips together and push on anyway.

His eyes are cold, and red.

The first night when you set up camp in an abandoned temple, Astarion moves his tent to the other side of the sanctuary as if he cannot bear to be around you. Like you smell. You’ve never cared much for the thoughts or opinions of others, but an inkling of self-doubt creeps back into the depths of your mind. What is the cost of being good if no one treats you kindly?

Every interaction you have with him is like pulling teeth. You want to fight for the tieflings, and Astarion wants to leave them behind. You want to help Wyll find his father, and Astarion snorts. Any good deed you suggest, he finds the need to punish.

When the cambion Raphael reaches and touches your cheek with a promise of opulence and salubrity, you're reminded of a night two hundred years ago. You stumble out of the House of Hope as fast as you can.

You don’t stop walking until daybreak. One night, you explode on Astarion. Your feelings bubble up like bile in your throat.

‘I tried to look for you!’ you snap at him. ‘You can sit here, and you can be bitter, but if I had known, I would have looked for you! But I didn’t know — I didn’t know and it isn’t a crime!’

Astarion’s look of surprise is one thing. He furrows his eyebrows as if properly scandalized, and his frustrated scowl turns to ash when you throw his old cravat at him. You had kept it tied around your neck for two hundred years. You wouldn’t keep it a day longer.

It’s a horrifying mistake to go wandering off in the Underdark by yourself with nothing but a hunting knife at your side, but you never really gave much thought to how you would cope with the gravity of the situation. The fact that you knew Cazador only made matters worse. You stumble past the ruins of the Selûnite Outpost in hopes of running away from your past.

You don’t run into your past in the dark, but you do run into a Spectator.

You’re immediately thrown into darkness and narrowly avoid being petrified, but you have no idea what you’re going to do about this situation besides hide beyond some poor stoned soul. You might should have considered thinking it through. You might should have thought anything through but you didn’t, and that’s the only crime you’ve committed in quite some time. It isn’t a crime is something you’ve begun to repeat to yourself often.

You manage to defend yourself for quite a while in the darkness, but by the end, you’re nursing a nasty wound and bite from the Spectator that will take some time to heal. You’re tucked under some petrified Drow bastard when you hear Karlac’s battle cry and see Gale’s ice spell come from the cliffs. The one that catches you off-guard, the one that will always catch you off-guard, is Astarion flipping through the air with nothing but an elven bow like a prince from your dreams.

Defeating the Spectator is easier with allies, and even the Drow protecting it goes down without much of a fight. You nurse your wounds as best you can, sitting against the cliffs with a bleeding thigh, and try not to frown when Astarion approaches.

‘Give me that,’ he says quietly, snatching one of Halsin’s potions from your fingers. ‘Even after all these years, it seems like you still need protecting.’

You frown and pick at your torn breeches. ‘I know how much you hate that, your honor.’

Astarion looks at you for the first time in several tendays, eyes rimmed with red. ‘I never hated it,’ he says. He dresses your wound like it pains him to see it. ‘I don’t hate it even now.’ Astarion crashes into you full force the night you arrive at the Last Light Inn after you’ve talked to Jaheira but before you’ve talked to anyone else. You’re in your room, and the next thing you know, you’re not alone.

Two hundred years of loneliness are erased at that moment.

His teeth clack painfully against yours as he shoves you into the wall, too uncaring or too pent up to care about the force. He cradles the back of your head to keep you from cracking it on the wall, but other than that, Astarion doesn’t care about hiding the full force of his strength. He kisses you until your mouth is swollen and then he’s tearing your night shirt open with both hands like he can’t get enough.

‘Astarion — ’ you try to say, startled.

But you would be lying if you said you didn’t miss him too. You let Astarion push you around, until you’re both stripped of your clothes and he’s lying flat on his back on the hard wooden floor with you pulled into his lap, his cock pushed deep inside you, and his hands unable to stop wandering the planes of your body. Astarion all but sobs into your mouth as he fucks you. He holds your cheeks in his hands like you’re the most precious thing he’s ever seen.

When you’re both finished, no one moves from the wood floor despite there being a bed. You lie on your side next to him, memorizing the slope of his nose while you still shiver with little twinges of pleasure still racing up your spine and between your legs. Astarion’s eyes are closed. He’s pretending to sleep, or pretending to be dead so you don’t have to talk about what’s happened, but you’re curious anyway.

You reach across the distance and touch his chest. You know there’s no heartbeat beneath his ribs, but you like to pretend. You close your eyes and dream it has been nothing but two hundred years of happiness and bliss in Astarion’s home.

‘When I first saw you,’ you say quietly, ‘I thought you were a ghost come back to haunt me.’

‘Are you often haunted by ghosts?’ Astarion asks. He still doesn’t look.

‘I’ve been properly reformed while you were away,’ you tell him. You stare at his neck. ‘There was only one ghost I was running from.’

He smiles. ‘And now you’ve found him. What do you think about this haunting?’

‘I am happily haunted,’ you say honestly. He opens his eyes then and turns toward you, lips pressed into a firm line. ‘But you are not happily haunting.’

Astarion sits up then and you follow him, legs sticky and wet. You reach for his hands and pull them into your lap. You watch as he struggles to accept a kind touch. In a way, you understand that. You remember how kindly he treated you when you didn’t deserve it. You hold his hands even when he tries to run away.

‘I was ashamed for you to see me like this,’ Astarion explains. He looks away, hesitant. ‘My condition isn’t one that I’m proud of. It isn’t fair to say I was tricked, but — ’

‘Wanting to live doesn’t make you a bad person,’ you say.

‘Perhaps not,’ he says. ‘But I became what I often chastised you for. I am greedy. I am prone to lying and bouts of theatrics. I’ve killed. It was embarrassing to fall so low.’

‘And now you rescue orphans,’ you say, shrugging. ‘You helped the gnomes. You helped the tieflings. You’re going to help the gnomes and tieflings again. There’s still good in you, your honor, beneath all that vampiric avarice you despair over.’

Astarion laughs and turns away from you. He’s looking for his clothes, and your heart squeezes so tightly in your chest that you move before you can stop yourself. You drape yourself over Astarion’s back and pull his arms away from his smallclothes. You can tell by the musculature of his arms that you only succeed because he lets you.

‘Please don’t leave me alone again,’ you whisper against his shoulder. Your wet eyelashes tickle the nape of his neck. ‘I waited for you that night and… I don’t want to be alone anymore.’

Astarion stays that night.

He stays every night after that too. For what it’s worth, your third visit to Baldur’s Gate is hardly better than the first two.

Between fighting cultists, saving children, and trying to convince most of your party that they’re not going to become mindflayers, you’re beginning to run a little thin. You feel like you’re going to shrivel up and die. You feel like the world is spinning and falling apart. You’ve killed Gortash and you’ve killed Orin and you killed Ketheric ages ago, but now you’re trying to keep the Emperor from betraying you and sacrificing Orpheus, and Cazador’s invitation is sitting pretty in your hands, and —

Well, that’s just it, isn’t it? Cazador’s invitation is in your hands, and you don’t have the heart to show Astarion. You’re afraid of showing Astarion. You know that as soon as you show him the invitation, he’ll lose his mind. You’ve only just recovered him and you’re already worried about losing him again.

You bury the invitation in the garden behind the inn like you’re a dog with a bone. You shovel the dirt with your hands until they’re cracked and raw and bleeding and the invitation is buried six feet in the ground. It should scare you that Cazador knows who you are, but it doesn’t. You aren’t stupid enough to run headfirst into his trap. And Astarion isn’t stupid either, but he’s scared, and being scared makes you do stupid things. Astarion almost does a very stupid thing like you predicted he would.

The Rite of Ascension was right there in his hands, and he had almost consumed it. You aren’t sure what changed his mind at the last minute but you’re thankful. Astarion crawls into your arms that night and sobs for hours. ‘What are we going to do about tomorrow?’ Astarion asks you softly.

He’s been tracing patterns into your spine all evening. If he moves his hands now, you’d still feel his fingertips against your skin. You’re hiding your face in your arms so you don’t have to think about it. You can’t stop thinking about it.

‘We’re going to fight the Absolute,’ you say.

‘Like it’s that simple?’

‘I am going to look another god in the face,’ you say, ‘and I am going to tell it to fuck off back to Avernus.’

‘Do Netherbrains come from Avernus?’

You don’t know. You’re too worried to think too hard about the simplest details. So far, you’re every plan has been to go in, stab whoever is the loudest, and then leave before things get worse. It’s hard to keep your head above the waves as they keep crashing down on you.

You don’t want to talk about tomorrow. If things don’t go well, you’re all going to die anyway and all that planning will have been for nothing. You turn on your side and appraise Astarion’s expression. He’s looking at you with muted disbelief. You choose to ignore it.

‘What are we going to do after tomorrow?’ you ask.

Astarion opens his mouth to chastise you for changing the subject, but he closes it almost immediately. He doesn’t want to talk about it either. It’s a scary thing to walk into the end of the world with a sword and a dagger. At least Dame Aylin will be there. You hope she can just stomp the Netherbrain to death and then it’ll all be over.

‘I could always go back to being a magistrate,’ Astarion says conversationally.

He picks at a thread coming loose on his blanket.

‘If you go back to that, I’ll go back to being a criminal,’ you muse. ‘We can have nasty sex on your desk again. You always did look damn good in a cassock.’

Astarion laughs. He laughs like the sunlight that peeks through the window on a sunny morning. He laughs like the moonlight that splays on the cobblestone of Baldur’s Gate long after everyone else has already gone to bed. It’s hideous — it’s melodic and intoxicating, and you reach across the distance and touch his cheek without thinking.

You slide your finger across to his nose. You press your finger against the wrinkle between his brow, and Astarion starts laughing again so you do too. You kiss him while he laughs, and then he holds you and you both laugh together. He will never be a judge again. Your connections with the Zhentarim will die out.

Astarion brushes his fingers against your hip bone. He rolls out of bed like it’s the easiest thing in the world to do, and you miss him. Already without him, the bed is much colder. You dramatically crawl across to his side and press your nose into his pillowcase to smell the faint traces of whiskey that are left.

When he returns, he presents you with his old cravat which has been neatly restored almost to perfection. He had sewn it back together himself. You had worn it for two hundred years as a good luck charm against evil, and the wear and tear had nearly torn it to shreds. You’d never had the heart to try to tailor it yourself. Sewing wasn’t your strong suit, and you had never cried over Astarion’s death until the day you thought you had lost it.

Astarion neatly ties the cravat around your wrist like a promise. He kisses your skin and inhales as though in a dream, nose brushing against the fabric, like the touch of a ghost against your veins. Your throat tightens.

‘Wherever this takes us,’ Astarion says, eyes burning. ‘I want to be there with you in the end.’

You tuck inside your bed with Astarion that night and watch the moon disappear through the window. It’s barely daylight when you’re finally too exhausted to stay awake, and Astarion almost lets you both miss the final showdown. Lae’zel, however, doesn’t. ‘I don’t mind what we do,’ Astarion is saying, ‘once we get to the — ’

You watch with muted horror as Astarion’s skin begins to glimmer in the sunlight. The fire begins cracking under his skin, brimming against his cheekbones and nose and throat and hair much like Karlach when she overheats. You watch as the tips of his ears ignite, and then he’s searching for you frantically between all of your friends.

‘I have to go,’ he chokes out. ‘I have to — ’

There is a world where you let Astarion run alone, where you both get separated on the docks and never find one another again. He runs from the sun as he bursts with radiant energy and as stars pour from his skin, you forget what Wyll is saying, and you run after him.

Astarion finds sanctuary in melting shade beneath a set of boxes. He’s curled up into himself when you arrive, and you drop next to him, pulling your cloak over your heads. He looks up at you, bewildered.

But you have lived through losing Astarion once, and it has haunted you for two hundred years. You had known loneliness and fear and anger, and the thought of surviving it for even a day more makes your stomach roll. You press your forehead to Astarion’s and stand as tall as you can so the sun can’t touch him ever again.

‘Won’t your arms get tired?’ Astarion asks you faintly.

He watches you with a sense of wonder. His skin slowly returns to normal, no more flickering stardust and ash, and you grin. He slowly smiles too, nervous but you shake your head and keep your cloaked raised.

‘Never,’ you say. ‘Not when it’s you.’

‘My reform worked, then?’ he says.

‘I’ve learned about your stuck-up decorum,’ you say. ‘It’s true. I can confirm.’

‘A sense of propriety?’ Astarion asks, and if his voice goes any softer, you’ll melt too.

‘Let me carry the weight of your sins,’ you tell him sincerely, laughing a little. ‘And if we need to find another desk then we will. But I’ll be your knight in shining armor, your honor, and carry a parasol above your head as a proper chamberlain would.’

Astarion snorts. ‘That isn’t quite the job of a chamberlain.’

You hold the cloak up for two hours at least while Astarion recovers from the damage. You can’t help but notice that he looks happy and content even in the shadows. It must be because you’re there, although you’re hesitant to take credit for all his happiness. When you let down the cloak, the sun has set. When Astarion rises, he kisses your cheek sweetly. ‘The silence stretches on — I’m all alone,’ you muse, ‘Please, can I hold your hands, just for a while?’

Bernard’s arms wrap around you gently, and you wrap your arms around his steel ribs. You’ve taken up residence in the old Arcane Tower in the Underdark. You appreciate the permanent nighttime, and if you admitted you only did it because Astarion wanted to be close to his family, it wouldn’t be entirely true. With a bit of help from Gale, you’ve managed to turn the tower into a comfortable fortress. Sometimes Omeluum comes to visit you. Occasionally, there’s word from Shadowheart from the Selûnite Outpost. She’s hoping to restore it. She wants you to come visit.

‘Are you still playing with that dusty old thing, my love?’ Astarion hums from the doorway.

‘You be kind to Bernard,’ you warn him. ‘He’s my friend.’

‘Of course, of course,’ Astarion says, holding his hands up. ‘I’ll be kind to the scrap metal.’

You roll your eyes and step away, touching Bernard’s chest briefly. Astarion has just arrived back from a trip. There are spawn all over the Underdark now, and they treat Astarion as though he’s some sort of prince. They heed your word too, but none so much as his. Their eldest brother, their favorite. They tolerate you if it means getting to see Astarion.

You’re a jack-of-all-trades and master-of-none now. You leave your handiwork for the day or night or whatever it is to go down to your bedroom and recline in bed. Astarion lights each candle one by one until the room is illuminated. You smile and watch as he works.

‘Having responsibility suits you well,’ you say, resting your cheek on your palm. ‘Although it’s funny how our positions have changed somewhat.’

‘I’m the contracted killer,’ Astarion says with a laugh. ‘Are you a magistrate now?’

‘I have at least four hundred years of life left,’ you snort. ‘I, Magistrate Judge Stick-Up-My-Ass, sentence thee to fifty years of community service!’

Astarion rolls his eyes at you dramatically and throws himself into bed, kicking off his boots as he does so. He smells of fresh oils and mist. You bury your nose in his hair. You practically burrow yourself into him, wrapping your arms and legs around him like a mindflayer. You squeeze him tightly in your arms.

‘We have a sprawling manse and all you can think of to do all day is mock me for a position I have not occupied in two hundred years?’ Astarion pouts.

You kiss his hair. ‘What else should I do?’

‘Well,’ Astarion says, tone turning conspiratorial. ‘There are a certain amount of fuckable places here. Several desks, I’ve counted them all, and couches.’

You contemplate it, but after several tendays on the road and a wiggling visitor in your head, you think the bed is the best place. You pull Astarion up to kiss him, arms wrapping around his neck so he can’t leave you. You never want him to go again. You bump your nose against his and hide a smile in his coiffed hair when he melts against your chest.

You sigh prettily when Astarion takes you in your velvet sheets that you float as though in a dream. Your troubles are long over, and that person you thought you lost — your immortal soul — has returned to you as beautiful as the day you lost him. When you shudder, Astarion brushes hair out of your eyes adoringly and tastes your pulse at your jaw. You dig your fingers into the small of his back.

It’s like you’ve found a family. A very bitey, very competitive family. Still, you wouldn’t change any of it for the world. You hold Astarion’s face in your hands and see the man you knew and the man he’s become. Slowly, you pull his mouth towards your neck and feel your heartbeat jump in your chest.

He bites you for the first time that night.

#astarion #astarion ancunin #astarion bg3 #astarion x tav #astarion x reader #astarion x you #astarion x oc #astarion smut #bg3 smut #from ，carcosa .#my fic #YOU GUYS CAN STOP MANIFESTING SNAKES IN MY HOUSE NOW #I LAID DOWN TO SLEEP & ALL I COULD DREAM ABOUT WAS CRAVATS #honestly patch 5 inspired a lot too #learning about astarion becoming A Dad to a bunch of vampire spawn really like........................... fired up the brain

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thisreadswhatever · 6 months

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The Chase: Part One

Pretty Sweet

series masterlist

[description]: jax teller x female reader

[wordcount]: 2.7k+

[summary]: Jax Teller is used to getting what he wants. At least that was the case before he met you.

[cw]: 18+ only minors do not interact - AU, follows some canon characters & themes but timeline is different. otherwise none yet, but stick with me, I have a smutty plan!

[authors note]: this has been really fun to write. thank you so much to this anon for requesting this idea! I plan on writing a good few parts of this.. as I am really loving writing this reader insert. if you have any ideas or suggestions on where you would like this to go, please let me know! I absolutely love getting your suggestions. I really hope you enjoy!

It had been a long sixteen hour drive. You sighed with relief as you sped past the large wooden slice, “WELCOME TO CHARMING”. You rolled your windows down, the wind blistering through your hair as you took in the warm California sun.

You turned the music up, attempting to drown out the events replaying in your head that led you here in the first place.

Charming wasn’t exactly on your bucket list of places to travel. Your parents had split a few years back, after your mom decided she could no longer handle the baggage that came with the Sons of Anarchy MC. Your Dad was an avid member of the Denver Charter, and she soon realised she couldn’t sit back and watch as he grew deeper into the Club. It was a quick and amicable divorce, made easier by the fact you were an only child and more than understanding of why the relationship had to end. You were old enough to see the pain your mom went through trying to make it work, and you knew that it was the best decision for them both. Your Dad on the other hand, never really got over it.

When your mom remarried last year, he decided to leave Colorado and transferred to the SAMCRO Charter. Charming was his home now. He’d been begging you to visit him for months, and despite the fact you were genuinely pleased that he was happy, seeing him so far from home and content without his family wasn’t something you’d looked forward too.

Charming was a small place, and from what your Dad had told you, it had never really left the seventies. Denver was the total opposite, a city full of life and people, and ever growing with new expanding chains of business. Even with the freezing winters, there was always something to do in Denver. But Charming? They barely had a population of fifteen thousand.

You had evaded the trip for as long as you could, blaming college assignments and exams for the reason you couldn’t make the drive. Now that you’d graduated, the excuses had run thin, and it was time to visit your Dad in Charming.

You pulled into the road of the address he had given you, entering a long unpaved driveway that ended on the outside of a dainty cabin. Your Dad’s bike was parked stagnant on the dirt. You dug your suitcase out from your trunk and walked up the wooden steps to the porch, bringing your hand to the door to knock. Before your knuckles could meet the wood, the door flung wide and your Dad lunged at you with open arms.

“You’re finally here!”, he squealed in excitement as he grasped you into a giant bear hug.

“‘Finally’ is right. That was a serious drive, Dad.”

He took your suitcase and carried it through the entryway. “Sure is. I’m so glad you got here safely, kiddo. Come on, let’s get you settled. You hungry? I was just about to make some lunch.”

You followed him inside as you observed the interior of the quaint, dusty cabin. “I could definitely eat.”

—

Your Dad showed you to your room and then became sidetracked from lunch, giving you a full tour of his new home and the complete low down of all things SAMCRO. He’d explained that the place was owned by the Club, but nobody ever frequented it unless they were in hiding. Your Dad was housed here for the long term, or at least until he could find something he liked better inside the Charming suburbs.

Once he’d caught you up, he made his start on lunch. You watched as he strolled throughout the kitchen, sitting patiently at the small round dining table.

“It’s a nice place, Dad. Not sure how I feel that you’re out here all alone though.”

“I’m barely here, kiddo. Spend most of my time down the Clubhouse.” He shrugged nonchalantly as he continued to make sandwiches, dropping a piece of turkey in the process. “I can’t wait for you to meet the guys, y/n. A lot more warm than the ones up in Denver. Some of them are your age too.” He placed the plate in front of you, and you grimaced at the site. Your Dad had never claimed to be a great chef.

“Thanks.” You smiled at him politely, taking a bite and struggling to swallow down the piece of dry sandwich. “I’m sure they’re great, Dad.”

“So, how’s your mom?”

You shrugged dismissively, unsure how to broach the uncomfortable topic of the newly weds. “She’s doing well. Mike is good to her.”

He nodded. “That’s good. I’m really glad she’s happy.”

It was hard to see your Dad try to be okay with the fact that your mom had moved on. The awkward silence was interrupted by his chair scraping against the floor as he stood up from the table. “Finish lunch and we can head on out. The guys are getting together at the Clubhouse tonight, you can meet them all there.”

You knew an evening with a bunch of Californian bikers was going to be inevitable during your trip. At least you could get it over with on the first night.

“Sounds great, Dad.”

—

You weren’t thrilled to be back in the confines of your car so soon after your long road trip, but your Dad knew better than to ask you to sit on the back of his motorcycle.

You rolled the windows down of your car as you followed his bike through the winding road from the cabin. As you re-entered Charming, you passed by locally run stores and cafes. If you didn’t know any better, you’d think this was a quiet, peaceful town. But you did know better. You knew what the Club’s presence actually meant for a small community like Charming. If SAMCRO was anything similar to the Denver Charter, the underworkings of this town would be anything but quiet and peaceful.

You pulled into the lot of Teller-Morrow Automotive Repairs, instantly drawn to the huge row of Harley motorcycles lined up on the inner bays.

Your Dad parked up and met you outside your car, telling you all about his new job in the garage as you walked together. He led you across the lot towards a small black door, entering into the SAMCRO clubhouse. It was impressive, a comfortable space with its own bar and lounge area. The place was full of MC memorabilia and pictures from the club’s long history. The furthest wall was centered by two large double doors that were surrounded by mugshots of the SAMCRO members. You had visited the Denver Clubhouse enough to know that room was where the decisions were made.

Your Dad introduced you one by one to several members that were there, a few of which he’d mentioned to you that afternoon. Bobby, Chibs, Trager, Juice and Opie all greeted you with open arms. They were extremely friendly and welcoming, just as your father had promised. The one your Dad called Trager seemed very pleased with your arrival, hugging you for a little too long. Your Dad managed to break the long embrace, pulling you away to start touring you around the building.

“Don’t get too close to that one, kiddo. He’s a little out there.”

You giggled as you nodded in agreement, “I’ll keep my distance.”

—

You sat alongside the club’s Secretary, Bobby, on a leather bench that faced out with a view of the entire room. You observed as the Clubhouse filled with more members and women, a handful of which were old ladies. The rest of them, very clearly single. Of all the members you’d met so far, Bobby had been the easiest to talk to. He clued you in on some of the Club’s legitimate businesses, Cara Cara and Red Woody Productions. You figured that’s where most of the girls came from, retired and current porn stars.

It was a little strange, and anyone else may have felt uneasy seeing their father in this kind of environment. But you were used to the life of girls and guns from growing up with a dad in a motorcycle club. The Denver Charter had its fair share of women in and out of their doors, but mainly just bartenders and the odd crow eater looking for a way in. These girls were more forward, scantily clothed, makeup on point, and obviously comfortable with their surroundings.

Bobby nudged your shoulder, regaining your attention from the party happening around you. “You know your Dad talks about you constantly. He’s so happy that you’re here, kid. We all are.”

You glanced over at your father, a huge smile forming as he collected a drink from the bar.

“He does seem happy. Just weird seeing him away from home.”

“You got a home here with us too now, y/n.” He placed his arm over you and squeezed your shoulder reassuringly, “we’re your family as much as we are his.”

“That’s really sweet, Bobby. Thanks.”

He pulled his arm back as he chuckled to himself, his large stomach bellowing as he laughed. “I am pretty sweet.”

Suddenly, the front door opened and a roar of drunken welcomes filled the clubhouse as two more members entered. The President of SAMCRO, Clay Morrow, walked in smiling ear to ear, hands held up as though he was a celebrity greeting his adoring fans. You’d heard a lot about Clay from your father, mainly that he was the initial sponsor for his transfer from Denver, and some remarks about what an ass he was. Behind him, a much younger member followed, embracing Opie as he entered. He was different from the other members, not totally clean cut, but you could at least tell he had showered. Not only was he bathed, he wasn’t harsh on the eyes either. You watched as he talked with Opie, his hands pushing his long blonde hair behind his ears as he spoke.

“Who’s that?” You asked Bobby, your eyes never feigning from the man.

“That’s Jax. Club’s VP.”

As you watched him converse with Opie, he suddenly glanced your way, locking eyes with you. You quickly turned away from him and back towards Bobby.

“He looks a little young to be Vice President”, you mumbled as you took a swig from your beer, still conscious that he was looking at you.

Bobby laughed, “Yeah, well, he’s a Teller. His Dad was First 9 alongside Clay and Piney Winston, Ope’s pops. Jax has been SAMCRO since he came out of the womb.”

You raised your eyebrows, glancing back over your shoulder. Jax’s attention had now been obtained by one of the Cara Cara girls. She was pulling him in by his cutte, batting her eyelashes at him as she leaned against the bar.

Bobby watched as you observed Jax. He sipped his drink, amused by your interest. “He’s known for his way with the ladies.”

You wanted to press Bobby further, but your Dad suddenly was stumbling over beside you, placing a hand on your shoulder.

“Come on over here, kid. I want you to meet my sponsor.”

“The asshole?”, you whispered to him as you stood up from the chair.

He snickered back at you, patting you on the back. “He’s having a good day.”

—

You were impressed by the brotherhood the Redwood Originals shared. It wasn’t unfamiliar to the Denver Charter, but the way the members of SAMCRO loved one another was palpable. You observed quietly throughout the night as they all ripped into each other with lighthearted banter and spilled beer all over the place. You were conflicted by the fact your Dad fit in so well here. It was painful to know he had chosen this life over one with you in Denver, but you still felt at peace knowing he had found a place in this family.

He was now slumped over a leather armchair in the lounge, snoozing after one too many beers. You nudged his shoulder, trying to wake him. “I’m gonna head back to the cabin, Dad. I’ll meet you here in the morning?”

“You sure, y/n?” He tried to stand up as he slurred, but his balance failed him, collapsing back into the seat. “I can lead you back-”

You chuckled, placing a hand on his head as he closed his eyes, “No way are you getting on a bike in this state. I remember the way.”

Tig overheard and slid himself beside you, placing an arm across your waist. “We’ll take care of him, sweetie. Don’t you worry. Get back safe, okay?”

You unwound from his grasp, collecting your bag from the coffee table as you searched through the contents for your keys. “Thanks Trager.”

A strange laugh left his throat as he watched you leave, before his face turned straight as a board. “Call me Tig.”

You said your goodbyes to the members that were sober enough to communicate, and made your way to the parking lot.

Jax Teller was sitting outside the clubhouse, journal and pencil in hand. He glanced up at the sound of the door opening, a lit cigarette hanging from his lips.

He smiled boldly, in a way that perplexed you. Almost like he was happy to see you, even though you’d never met. He took the cigarette from his lips as he asked, “you’re Ralph’s kid, right?”

“I usually just go by y/n.”

He placed his pencil inside the journal and tucked it snug in his cutte, standing from the bench. “It’s a nice thing you’re doing, coming all this way to see him.”

You nodded, “had to make sure my Dad wasn’t living with some crazed psychopaths, you know?”

He exhaled, his lips forming a perfect O as the smoke left his lips. “Pretty sure a few of those knuckleheads could pass for psychotic”, he teased. His mouth pulled into an infectious smile, and you couldn’t help but smile back.

Jax walked closer towards you, your bodies now inches apart. He held out an open pack of cigarettes, prompting you to take one. You shook your head, declining the offer.

“And what about you? How’s your level of sanity?”

Jax hesitated. “A work in progress.”

You smiled politely as you walked past him, making your way to the car. “Anyway, I was just leaving. Was nice meeting you.”

Jax’s brow creased in concern, “you heading to the cabin on your own?”

You looked over your shoulder to see him pacing behind you, flicking his cigarette to the cement.

“My Dad’s not exactly in riding order.”

“I can take you back.”

You stopped outside your car and turned to him, scoffing at how forward he was. “I met you thirty seconds ago.”

“So?” He shrugged.

“I don’t really think that’s appropriate.”

“I’m not asking to get in bed with you, y/n. You can ride the Harley with me and I’ll leave the second you’re in the cabin.”

You opened the car door, sliding into the seat. “Not gonna happen.”

“I won’t lay a hand on ya, darlin’,” he raised his hand up, smiling, “scouts honor.”

You pressed your lips together, suppressing yourself from giggling at his innocent gesture. “I don’t ride bikes.” You affirmed.

Jax cocked his head at you, confused at the statement. “Denver girl’s scared of bikes?”

Your eyes rolled at his assumption. “No offense, but I just met you. I’m not sure my safety is your concern.” You shut the car door, realising your window had been left ajar from the way there. You wanted to curse aloud that the good Californian weather enabled the opportunity to ride with the windows down.

Jax didn’t push further, nodding his head as he watched you settle into the driver's seat. “No offense taken.”

Jax leaned his head into the open window, resting his arms on the roof of the car. You turned the ignition, letting the engine roar to life. “Nice to meet you, Jax.”

“You too, darlin’. Will I see you again?”

You were looking directly at him, your faces parted only by the frame of the window between you. “I’m here for the week, darlin’.”

His lips pulled from ear to ear, smiling playfully as you put the gear in reverse, forcing his hands off the car as you pulled out of the parking lot. You peaked in the rear-view mirror, finding Jax still watching you drive away into the Charming night.

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questionotmystopit · 4 months

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Self-aware AU in Genshin/Star Rail as opposed to the Player in HI3rd

In my personal interpretation of the players' influence/presence in the three games, it's quite nebulous. In Genshin Impact and Honkai: Star Rail especially, it would be borderline impossible to truly detect the players' existence.

Let me explain. The characters we control as the player are NOT the actual characters themselves. They are more akin to the copies of the characters you control in the Simulated Universe. The player clones are non-sapient copies of the characters they are based on, and the abilities of the playable ones are loosely based on their template character.

The player clones differ crucially from the real version because they only display snippets of their 'personality' at a time. (Voicelines triggered on certain conditions/Idle animations) The clones do not display true sentience, instead saying predetermined dialogue. 'Player clone' refers to practically every character we see in the game. The clones are made to recreate what is actually happening to the Trailblazer in the story. Meaning, every character you see isn't the real person.

The best way I can think to describe it is using a plasma globe. When you put your finger to the glass, the energy arcs on your hand, but it does not actually touch you. Similarly, you playing the games causes the world to react to you, but it cannot truly interact with you. The 'player clones' are shadows made by the arcs of energy reaching for your hand, but being blocked by the glass.

Also, the scene where you choose the Traveler/Trailblazer was you first touching the plasma globe. They are your main point of contact. They are your manifestation inside the plasma globe. That's why you default to them when talking to people, and why the world/story is almost entirely seen from their perspective. However, using pre-existing characters as a point of contact crucially changes the situation from Honkai Impact 3rd. In Honkai Impact 3rd, the player is nebulously represented as the 'Captain of the Hyperion'. However, the Captain doesn't exist in the main story.

The Captain canonically exists only as a representative for the players, meaning that players as the Captain are easier to detect than players as the Traveler or Trailblazer. This is because Captain's status as a pure self-insert (doesn't canonically do anything or express any personality outside of your will) means that the interference from the Player touching the plasma globe as the Captain is more direct and noticeable by beings with enough awareness (Aeons and maybe others).

Well, that's all for now. I'm not dead, btw

#honkai star rail #genshin impact #sagau #self aware honkai star rail #hi3 #hi3 captain

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beskarandblasters · 9 months

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hiiiii long time follower and avid reader but first time requesting i want to preface saying that i ADORE everything you write (i do have a soft spot for your angsty pieces bc you always DELIVER) as for the request (i know its pretty trope-y but i cant help that i like it 😭) din djarin x reader where there's (preceived) unrequited love <maybe reader thinks bo katan is better for din because reader isn't a mando> but honestly if this request doesn't inspire your writing powers i will eat up any angst to fluff fic you write with any and all plotlines and characters ❣ thank you for sharing your works here on tumblr im so grateful to have found your blog i really hope you're living your best life irl because your work always lifts me up

That Should Be Me

Din Djarin x F!Reader

Main Masterlist | Din Djarin Masterlist

Author’s note: This is the kindest ask/request I’ve ever received🥹🥹 I hope I did your idea justice bb 🖤

Summary: You’ve been traveling with Din and Grogu for quite sometime now as the mechanic for the Razor Crest. But when Bo-Katan joins your group you started feeling a little threatened by her. You’ve had feelings for Din for a long time and Din and Bo just seem to click so well that it makes you feel jealous. Now you, Din, Grogu are on Nevarro right before the Mandalorians leave to reclaim Mandalore and some feelings are brought to the surface.

Word count: 1.5k

Warnings: reader is able-bodied, canon divergent, jealousy, reader sits on Din's lap, fingering, vaginal sex, unprotected sex, semi public sex (heavy on the semi), no use of y/n

The jealousy stirs in your stomach, watching Din and Bo talk while all of the other Mandalorians celebrate around them. You look down at Grogu, who you’re holding on your hip and he babbles happily. At least he's here to somewhat cheer you up.

The jealousy has been festering for a while, ever since Bo-Katan came to Din’s rescue in the Mines of Mandalore. Grogu came up from the Mines and it was clear that Din needed help. So you and him went back to Bo’s palace much to your chagrin. She brought both of you back to Mandalore and rescued Din. And ever since then she’s been a fixture in your little group.

You watch the way they interact and you can’t help but feel jealous. She’s so strong and a natural born leader. It’s clear that Din holds her in such a high regard. And though you can’t blame him, it still makes you jealous.

You’ve had feelings for Din ever since you started traveling with him and Grogu. You would take care of the Razor Crest’s repairs and in return you’d get a place to stay and food in your stomach.

Once Grogu went to train with Luke you hoped that maybe something would happen between you and Din. But it never did. And you just accepted that your feelings for him were unrequited. You were somewhat accepting of that until Bo-Katan came into the picture. And now watching them together is almost too much to bear.

It’s the night before the Mandalorians are supposed to leave to retake Mandalore. You’re supposed to go with them but your jealousy has you second guessing everything. And before you can even think about whether this is a good idea or not, you're walking over to Din and Bo.

“Din?” you ask, interrupting whatever he and Bo were talking about.

He turns to face you and Grogu.

“Are you two okay?”

“Oh, we’re fine! But can I talk to you about something for a moment?”

“Sure,” he says before turning back to Bo, “I’ll be back.”

Your heart sinks at that as you walk back to the Razor Crest together. You stop at the exit ramp and turn to face him before blurting out, “I don’t think I should go with you all tomorrow.”

You wince in anticipation of his response to which he says, “I was thinking the same.”

Your stomach stirs at his words. He really doesn’t feel the same way and this is clear confirmation of it.

“Okay… um well I’m gonna get him to bed,” you say, referring to Grogu, “It’s getting kind of late. H-have fun,” you finish, your voice cracking.

You don’t even wait for a response from him before turning on your heel and walking up the exit ramp of the Crest, closing it behind you. You get Grogu settled in his hammock for bed before climbing up the ladder to the cockpit and sitting in one of the passenger seats. You put your hand in your hands and let the tears flow. Even though he never confirmed any feelings for you, you’d be happy with just the three of you in your own little group. But then Bo-Katan showed up and so did all of the other Mandalorians and now your Mandalorian is more unavailable than ever.

After a while you hear the exit ramp open again and you know he’s coming back, probably to ask you about your little outburst earlier. He climbs up the ladder and sits in the pilot chair, spinning it around to face you.

“You wanna tell me what’s going on?” he says softly.

“There’s nothing wrong. I’m fine,” you lie.

“We both know that’s not true.”

You’re both silent for a moment. But then you decide it’s better to just get this over with now.

“I was just feeling… jealous.”

“Jealous? Why?”

“Of you and Bo-Katan.”

He almost laughs but he restrains himself. “Why would you be jealous of Bo-Katan and I?”

“I just… I see the way you two are together. And it hurts because I have feelings for you but I know I’ll never be good enough. She’s a Mandalorian and I’m not. And I just-”

But you’re cut off by him. “You have feelings for me?”

“…Yes. I just never told you. I guess this whole time I was waiting for you to make the first move but you never did so I just assumed you didn’t feel the same way. And then you told me you didn’t want me to come to Mandalore and I guess I just sort of spiraled.”

Now he’s laughing. But not in a mocking way. Almost like he’s laughing at himself.

“I didn’t want you to come to Mandalore because it’s too dangerous. I never want anything to happen to you. Maybe if both of us had just told each other our feelings sooner we wouldn’t be in this mess.”

“Our feelings?”

He grabs your hand. “I have feelings for you, cyar’ika. I think I was just too upset with Grogu being gone and then becoming an apostate to fully realize what was right in front of me.”

Maker, all you want to do is kiss him right now but you know you can’t.

“But… I’m not a Mandalorian.”

He laughs again. “It’s not completely unheard of for Mandalorians to be with non Mandalorians, cyar’ika.”

“What does that mean?”

“Sweetheart.”

Oh. Butterflies flutter in your stomach at the pet name. Feeling a little bashful you stand up and say, “Well we should probably get back to the others… right?”

He stands up, too, and says, “We could… or we could do something else.”

His hands find your waist and he pulls you closer before bringing one hand to the waistband of your pants.

“Din! Right here? What if someone outside sees us through the window?”

“So? Isn’t that what you wanted? For everyone to know you’re mine?”

You feel your core tingle in arousal at his words.

“Okay,” you whisper.

Wasting no time at all he pulls down your pants and tugs off one of his gloves before bringing it to your cunt, feeling how wet you are already.

“That did it for you, huh? Just the teasing?”

“Mhm,” you whimper against him as he plays with your cunt, teasing you until you’re soaked enough for entry. He plunges a finger in and you lean into him against his chest plate. His one finger works your walls until you’re begging for more.

“Please, Din. I need more,” you whimper.

“Of course,” he purrs, “You’ve waited for me long enough.”

And on the last word he pushes another finger in, curling both of them against your g-spot until you can barely keep yourself upright. You cum against the beskar chest plate, the cool metal contrasting against the heat rising in your cheeks. You feel your walls tighten and release around them before your wetness slides all the way down to his wrist.

He pulls his hand from you and takes off his other glove. But before you have time to whine at the absence of him inside you he hooks his hands on your hips and places you in front of the control panel and coaxes you to bend over.

You bend over and rest your arms on the control panel, standing on your tiptoes and sticking up your ass for him. Your eyes scan outside the ship; there’s no one around. But Din was right. You really wouldn’t care if someone caught you.

You feel his hand gather your juices, spreading it onto his cock. His hands return to your hips as he enters you, both of you sighing at the feeling of him being inside you at last. He pulls you into him as he thrusts in you, making a mess of you against the control panel. With each drive of his cock inside you he reaches deeper and more intense angles. You push back against him one last time as he fucks you with the most force he’s had so far and you’re coming around him. Your core muscles tighten and relax in rhythmic motions and your release slides down your legs. Your knees buckle underneath you; you can’t keep yourself upright for much longer. But triggered by your own orgasm Din comes, too. He paints your inside with his own release. But you don’t freak out. He knows you have an implant and you’ve been dying for his cum inside you already. He fucks you through his high before pulling out of you and sitting in the pilot seat behind him.

You pull yourself off of the control panel and sit on his lap. You’re both silent, just catching your breath until you ask, “So you don’t want me to come to Mandalore?”

“Stay here where it’s safe, cyar'ika. I’ll come back for you.”

“You promise?”

“I promise.”

#listen ik ive been posting like a TON lately but writing distracts from the sad thots ok #din djarin smut #din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #din djarin x female reader #din djarin imagine #din djarin x f!reader #din djarin #the mandalorian #mandalorian smut #mando x you #mando x reader #mandalorian fanfiction #din djarin x fanfiction #star wars #star wars fanfiction #pedrostories

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sevenrs · 5 months

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Rain World Slugcat OC Ask Game/Questionnaire

if you want to talk about your sluggies and don't know where to start, or want other people to ask about them, this is the ask game for you! iterator oc ask game

Where does your slugcat live? What is the region like? Do they like living there?

What is the size of your slugcat? Compared to the average? Compared to an iterator puppet (if applicable)?

Where does your slugcat come from? Born wild? Descendant of a purposed organism? A purposed organism themselves?

If your slugcat lives in a colony, what is their role in it?

If your slugcat lives in a colony, do they generally get along with their colony?

Does your slugcat have any friends? Within their own species or outside of their species?

Does your slugcat prefer company or to be alone?

How old is your slugcat? (Relatively or exact age?)

Where does your slugcat place within the canon timeline?

What is your slugcat's diet? How much do they have to eat?

Does your slugcat have any special abilities?

Has your slugcat ever met an iterator? If so, what do they think of them?

Is your slugcat aware of the cycle and the Great Problem? If so, do they have any opinions on it?

If your slugcat could have any one wish come true, what would it be?

Your slugcat meets one of the canon slugcats/iterators. How would the interaction go?

If your slugcat were to meet a baby creature of any kind (slugpup or other), how would they react to it?

How would your slugcat describe themselves?

How would you describe your slugcat?

What are the inspirations behind your slugcat, if any?

How does your slugcat spend their time in a shelter, once they get there? Do they fall asleep immediately, or do anything else, if they sleep at all?

What is your slugcat afraid of? What is their biggest fear at all?

Is your slugcat afflicted with any conditions (illness, injury, anatomy quirks, etc.)? How do they live with these conditions?

How does your slugcat speak? Verbal noises? Body gestures? Drawing? etc.

If your slugcat could have an inventory of three items, what would they carry/wear?

Describe your slugcat's campaign, as if it were a playable character. Would it be difficult? What type of regions would the player travel through? What is the story?

#rain world #rain world oc #slugcat oc #rw oc #ask game

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xmalereader · 6 months

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Miguel O’Hara X Bunny! Male Reader || 2 ||

|| Masterlist ||

Authors notes: You’ll convinced me to write a second part, so here it is. Now it’s not perfect because let’s be honest these two would have an angsty relationship.

Summary: After the events on the train, Bunnix betrays Miguel and saves Miles instead of taking him back to the lab in order to prevent a disturbance in the canon. After taking him to earth 42 the hybrid goes into hiding, only to make new discoveries about the future.

Warnings: Angst, mentions of miles 42, reader is a hybrid, time travel, the TVA, enemies to friends and back to enemies, Miguel and reader have a platonic friendship, Miguel is an asshole, fighting, near character death, mentions of multiverse, dark theme, last part.

Word count: 3K

Tags: @sephtishehe @deputy-videogamer @lvinlee @madzpm

— || ONE ||

—

He couldn’t hide forever, buried away in his timelines and watching as the other worlds go by without a worry. He can’t stay in the burrow forever and watch as the events unfold in front of him. He can’t help, but think back to the time on the train and the look of betrayal on Miguels face when he figured out why he was apologizing. It was wrong for him to do such a thing to Miguel, but with the chaos around them and the fact that a kid was in danger he had to react fast. He didn’t need Miguels permission to fix the future, it was his job and he was doing the right thing.

He’s told Miguel many times that there jobs were different. They did have some similarities, but his were much more grave. He handled the future, the outcome of the universe, it was his job to either fix it, no matter if there ending was happy or not.

It wasn’t until the events of Miles.

He’s was still new to his abilities and learning new things as times moves on, so when he found an alternate into the future he asked himself, how? He’s never seen such a thing happen before and investigated further, trying to find out why a third alternate was created instead of the two that he usually gets.

Y/n had no idea how much time he was in his burrow, going through the time that Miles first got bitten to the time that he left him at a different universe for his own safety from Miguel. He would rewind everything, listening and watching the event carefully in hopes of finding something that will help him know more.

The hybrid would bounce back and forth from one event to another, remembering small details and then checking the future outcome. It wasn’t until he looked into the universe that he had left Miles. His hand against the small portal as he watched Miles interacting with himself, but of course this Miles was far different than the spider.

He sighs deeply and hovers his hand over the portal, slowly titling his hand to the left, speeding up the process and watched as both Miles and the Prowler helped each other out, fighting off crime and trying to find Miles a way back home in order to save his father, to prevent the canon from happening.

Y/n was about the skip ahead again only to stop himself when he hears Miles simple words.

“Good thing I’m not glitching anymore.”

The hybrids ears perk up, eyes widening at the kids words as he repeats them to himself. “He isn’t glitching…” He whispers, hand hovering over the portal. “He isn’t glitching!” He finally realizes why a third future was created.

He hopes around the burrow, collecting his own notes once he realizes why. He didn’t want to get his hopes up, but had to try and test out his theory before he can jump into action before he could make his decision of clearing things up with Miguel.

Y/n walks across the room, pulling up another portal that takes him where he needs to go. When entering an empty hallway he’s quick to hide behind a wall, slowly peaking out from around the corner with raised ears in alert, his eyes scan the empty hallway and out the windows.

“Looks like everyone is out for the day.” He whispers, making his way through the TVA halls. He discovered this place by accident, finding out that there are more timekeepers of the universe, but of course, Y/n had to keep himself hidden if he didn’t want to lose his gift that was given to him by his grandfather. He came to far to get it taken away from him.

The hybrids steps are quiet when he arrives to a pair of double doors, pushing them open and checking for anyone inside until his eyes land on top of familiar silver hair. He pushed his way through the doors and sneaks around the back of the empty desks in the room until he approached the man from behind.

“Mobius.”

The poor guy is startled, coffee spilling and wincing when the hot liquid burns his hands. “Geez, kid! What did I say about sneaking up on me and why are you here? You aren’t suppose to be here!”

The rabbit rolls his eyes. “I know, but I need your help.”

Mobius wants to deny the rabbit only to stop himself when he notices the eyes that Y/n is giving him. They slowly grow bigger and glossy with his ears falling flat against his head as a way of begging the man to help him.

Mobius can only groan. “Sometimes I ask myself why I allow you to get away with this stuff.”

Y/n’s ears perk up and grins in victory when Mobius agreed to help him. Mobius was the only person that Y/n trusted when it came towards the TVA. The man treated him with kindness and knew what his role was when it came towards the universe future. As the hybrid moves to sit on his desk, Mobius is quick to scoot back in his chair to give the rabbit some room.

“The TVA is in charge of cleaning up timelines, correct?”

Mobius nods. “Yes, we fix errors that we detect and fix them before they alter the future—same thing as you.” He points out.

“Is there a way for an ‘error’,” He quotes. “To co exist in another universe without causing any alarms?”

Mobius raised at brow at him, thinking well of his question before answering. “Well, that depends. An error can co exist in another universe or timeline if that timeline is to be destroyed in the future, meaning that anyone or anything that wasn’t suppose to be there will already be cleaned out once that timeline is destroyed as written.”

Y/n thinks, frowning a little at his words, not really helping him.

The older man takes notices of the hybrids frown, clearing his throat as he speaks up again. “But,” he starts, getting the rabbits attention. “An error can co exist in another universe or timeline if part of them belongs there.”

Y/n ears raise. “Wait—what did you just say?”

“That someone can live in another timeline or universe if part of them belongs there or if something is allowing them to be there without causing any alarms to go off.”

The hybrid jumps off Mobius’ desk, pacing around the area as he thinks, eyebrows knitted together as he began to put the pieces together. When Miles first came into Miguel’s world the kid was twitching due to him being a universe that he could not co exist unless he wore one of Miguel’s watches in order to prevent a break in his universe.

When he took Miles to Earth-42 he had forgotten about the possible glitching that the kid could have gone through without a proper bracelet being wore, only to find out that he hadn’t caused another rip through time due to him co existing in another world that he was apart of.

“Miles was bitten by a spider from earth-42 a bite that didn’t belong to him, but to the other Miles in 42. Due to him getting bit he became the cities hero after the last one was killed, taking the mantel.” He began to mumble to himself which only made him look crazy as Mobius watched the hybrid and sipped his coffee quietly.

“Because of him getting bitten by a spider the canon was rewritten, meaning that the Miles in 42 also has his own canon that was rewritten—“

“Which creates balance.” Mobius cuts in mid-sentence, getting the hybrids attention as he connects the dots. Everything was now making sense and why a third alternate future was created.

The hybrids tail twitched in excitement, reaching out to pull Mobius into a hug and smiling when pulling away. “You are a genius!” His voice is full of excitement and thrill at his new discovery. “Thank you!”

He’s quick to open a portal, waving goodbye to Mobius and jumping through his portal and back into his burrow. The portal closed behind him and rushed across the burrow and towards Miles new future. His hand hovers over the portal, hesitating at first as he thinks back to Miguel and the possible outcome between the two.

Whether his decision didn’t satisfy Miguel he had to stop him from ruining the future. As much as he despised fighting his own friend he knows what he has to do. He lets out a deep breath before pressing his hand against the event and opening a portal, jumping through he lands on top of a roof back on Miles world.

The portal above him closes and takes in the destruction that the spot has created, his eyes widening and ears falling back as he looks over the edge. The sound of sirens and people screaming filled the air, knowing that the future is nearing.

He used his portals to get around the city faster, jumping through and going from building to building. His eyes land on the spot near the center of the city, his eyes narrow and makes an attempt to make his way there only to have someone tackle him from the side when jumping off the roof, catching him off guard.

The familiar red and blue makes him panic, kicking his legs back and shoving Miguel off of him. The ground grows closer as they free fall he’s quick to think and opens a portal for himself, falling through and appearing safely on the ground, rolling in the ruble with a groan.

“If I were a cat I would have landed on my feet.” He jokes out in pain while turning onto his side his palm against the pavement and using his strength to lift himself up. He’s not paying attention to his surroundings and doesn’t hear the sound of Miguels footsteps approaching him. It wasn’t until he feels a harsh kick against his stomach, knocking the breath out of Y/n as he rolls back.

“I had it handled.” Y/n can hear the venom in Miguels voice as he works on getting back up.

“We had the kid and you let him go!” He shouts this time.

Y/n is quick to stand up, hand on his stomach as he glares at Miguel. “I was doing my job.” He spits out, taking steps back each time Miguel got closer. The chaos around them wasn’t enough to stop Miguel from coming after him.

The man for sure hated Bunnix after what he pulled off.

Bunnix almost trips over some rumble and is quick to fix his balance.

“You’re job is to fix the future! You are suppose to help me fix the canons!” Miguel angrily charged forward, hand balled into a fist and swinging towards the rabbit. He’s quick to dodge the move, sit stepping and using his own leg to swing it over Miguel head, knocking him forward.

Bunnix breaths heavily and takes a step back. “I fix the future, not the canon. The canon can be changed.”

Miguel growls, turning around to face him. “If cannot be changed you’ve seen what happens.” Bunnix had seen the universe that Miguel had destroyed all because he was an anomaly in a world that he didn’t belong to. He only wanted to be happy and with a family he could never have only to ruin it.

The hybrid sighs. “You had a chance to change it, but you were desperate to have something you knew you couldn’t have in your own future. A family who actually cared unlike your brother and mother.”

Miguel froze at the mention of his brother and mother. “How did you—?”

Bunnix shoulders drop, giving Miguel a look. “I..I looked into your life…” Ever since the two started working together he had promised Miguel that he would never look into his past or future without his consent. A promise that the two made with each other only for Bunnix to break that promise, destroying the trust that Miguel had for him.

“You said you wouldn’t look!”

“I had too.” said Bunnix, taking another step back as Miguel takes one forward. The hybrid speaking quick. “You had two futures—a future where you got what you wanted the family that you always craved for along with the happiness that come with it.”

“You’re lying!” Miguel grabs a bolder next to him, throwing it in Bunnix’ direction. The hybrid gasps and ducks away from the boulder.

“I’m not!” He keeps going, dodging the items that Miguel throws his way.

“You can have that future without having to face any canons that will have you lose the people that you care and love! Balance can be set and you won’t face the same consequences as you did when you entered a universe that didn’t belong to you.” Bunnix yelps when Miguel charged at him, hand wrapped around his neck and is slammed against the pavement.

The hybrid chocked out a painful grunt, ears falling back as he stares up at Miguel who glared at him. His eyes full of hatred.

“Miles is Spider-Man in his world, but the spider he got bitten by was from another universe, that spider balanced both universes and created new canons for both people. One may be happier than the other, but then again neither universe is perfect. He may not lose his father today, but he will lose something else as the future nears and all we can do it wait. When balance is found a new future is formed. Why is it that every time I enter a new universe it doesn’t get destroyed? Because I bring balance to those worlds, making small altercations can fix the future.” He chokes out.

He has his fingers wrapped around Miguels wrist, trying to pry the man off of him, but failed miserably. Miguel was stronger than him and faster when the monster instead is released he can see his eyes darken and doesn’t know if he’ll make it out of his hold. He understands why Miguel wouldn’t believe him, he’s betrayed his trust more than once and knows that he can’t restore the friendship they’ve once had.

The grip around his neck tightens his vision blurring, many would expect that a hero like Spider-Man wouldn’t kill anyone, but Miguel wasn’t like the others. He didn’t live by a code. If someone was a threat he wouldn’t hesitate to end there life.

Bunnix reached up to try and push Miguel away, growing weaker by the second. He had to think of something fast in order to get away from him, something that’ll possibly change his mind about all of this. He lowers his hand from Miguels chest, touching the pavement below him and opening a portal. The two dropping down on a school rooftop, Miguels grip doesn’t loosen and growls at the sudden change of location.

“You can do whatever you like, it isn’t going to save you. You are in the process of destroying another universe that we could have saved if you had only listened!” He hissed his words out, teeth gritting in anger while Bunnix chocked out few words.

“I’m trying…to save…everyone…”

Miguel shakes his head. “And you failed.”

Bunnix can’t give up, he’s made it this far into saving words into saving futures. He can’t give up now. He uses little strength that he has and opens another portal below them, but this time dropping them from the sky the two free falling again, giving Bunnix the chance to turn them around and catching Miguel by surprise, his grip loosening and takes the advantage to put his strength into his legs, kicking him in the stomach and prying him off.

He opens another portal on the other side of the city, falling in and landing in a park where he turns to his side, coughing and trying to gain his breath back. His neck feels sore when he rubs it and gets on his hands and knees when coughing again.

“It’s been done.” He croaks out, slowly getting onto his two feet. Due to him seeing this moment happening in the future, he had a chance to alter it to stop Miguel from trying to kill him, but it was the only way to keep miguel away from the fight between the spot and the other spiders, stopping him from allowing Miles’ father to die in action.

In the end Miles does save his father and protects the rest of his friends, fighting off spot and sending him back to his proper universe where Bunnix is to return in order to fix the past. Even though Miles saved his father that doesn’t mean that things will be peaceful for the kid his universe needs a balance, if his father doesn’t die then perhaps someone else close to him will in order to restore the future again.

Bunnix doesn’t hear from Miguel again nor does he go back to seeing him. Instead he goes back to the way things were before, protecting the future and doing what he can to fix the universe. Y/n finds ways to stay hidden from Miguel when he travels from universe to universe. Perhaps the two were never meant to see each other again, learning the consequences of two time keepers trying to protect their own worlds only to result in hatred between the two.

#male reader #miguel o’hara x reader #Miguel o Hara x male reader #Miguel o Hara #spider man across the spiderverse spoilers #spider verse #bunny reader #au #second part #fluff #angst #Bunnix series

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wangxianficfinder · 5 months

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In the mood for...

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1. Itmf fics where yzy and jfm are actually good parents and wwx has a good relationship with yzy. It'll be great if you have it in Canon era, but if not, then I don't mind them being modern too

Still Waters by PorcupineGirl (G, 6k, wangxian, canon divergence, cloud recesses study arc, YZY pov, arranged marriage, protective YZY) Cloud recesses study arc, YZY pov, she likes WWX and wants what’s best for him. She set up an arranged marriage between him & LWJ as kids but now thinks that LWJ is too cold and unemotional for WWX.

Hope series by RoseThorne (T, 57k, wangxian, WWX & YZY, WWX & JFM, WWX & JYL, YZY/JFM, JC & WWX, LQR & WWX, LXC & JYL, Madam Jin & YZY, LQR & JFM, LXC & LWJ, Transmigration, Time Travel Fix-It, Illnesses, Family, Scars, Memory Loss, Angst, Crying, Music, Nosebleed, Fear, Recovery, Nightmares, Sharing a Bed, Flirting, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Good Parent YZY, Referenced Sexual Slavery, Blood and Gore, Monsters, Sexual Tension, betrothal, Arranged Marriage, Grief, Adoption, POV Third Person, POV Alternating, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Good Parent LQR, Clairvoyance, Butterfly Effect, Kid Fic, Epistolary, Food, Secrets, Resentful Energy, Cultivation Sect Politics, Character Death)

🔒 Of Destruction and Rebirth by demoniqt (M, 88k, wangxian, JYL/JZX, major character death, rape/non-con, underage, graphic depictions of violence, Slow Burn, Canonical Character Death, God WWX, God Verse, BAMF WWX, Grieving LWJ, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Canon Divergence, Gods & Goddesses au, JC & WWX Reconciliation, Rabbits, Fix-It, Attempted Sexual Assault, Attempted Rape/Non-Con, Canon-Typical Violence, Blood and Gore, Castration, Lots of it, repeatedly, Punishment, Hell)

🧡 Heaven Has No Rage by flipfloppandas (M, 51k, WWX & YZY, JFM/YZY, implied wangxian, WWX/WC, WWX/others, rape/non-con, modern, hurt/comfort, protective YZY, good parent YZY, hospitals, medical procedures, vomiting, trauma)

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2. Hi, I'm really in the mood for a fic set in post canon. Wangxian are happily married and there is a JC and WWX reconciliation, but LWJ and JC still don't like each other. I think it is funny if they are trying to tolerate each other's presence for the sake of WWX. But they still give WWX a headache because JC and LWJ still fight ( using words ). Of course it is a bonus if the junior quartet are also in the fic. Expecially JL and WWX having interactions as uncle and nephew. @yunshenlianhua

❤️ Attempting the Impossible by Ariaste for williedustice (T, 36k, WangXian, JC & WWX, Post-Canon, Yunmeng Bros Reconciliation, Adoption, Family Fluff, Kid fic, Family drama, Fluff, Español Translation Attempting the Impossible by Hummingbird_52, [PODFIC] Attempting the Impossible by Ariaste by lunatique)

With Absolute Splendor by Lise (T, 43k, wangxian, JC & WWX, JC & LWJ, JC & JL, Post-Canon, POV JC, JC is Bad at Feelings, JC & WWX Reconciliation, Weddings, Wedding Planning, Some politics, Complicated Relationships, Brothers, let's do some HEALING and RELATIONSHIP BUILDING, ode to Lise's Yunmeng Shuangjie feelings in almost 50k words, jc and lwj still don't like each other very much, Angst with a Happy Ending, some people? plan weddings?? to cope???, Podfic Available)

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3. can i have some fics with similar element to "Content Warning: Romance" by ariaste? as in, wwx feeling uncomfortable with being treated tenderly, but not wholly opposed to it either, so lwj showers him with tenderness. can be fluff, or can contain kinky element (in a "i will force u to receive tenderness but i will stop if u safeword"). bonus points if wwx gets so overwhelmed he starts crying

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

~*~

4. Hi hi hi! Does anyone know of any fics where WWX and JC get along well? Especially where JC calls WWX ge/brother. Could be any setting/plot, just want that family dynamic!

Lynchpin by ShanaStoryteller (Not Rated, 103k, WangXian, JC & WWX, Time Travel, Fix-It, Lynchpin [PODFIC] by Opalsong, [PODFIC] Lynchpin by Gwogobo)

With Such Impossible Conveyance by Comfect (T, 99k, WangXian, ChengQing, Fix-It, Brotherly Bonding, Angst with a Happy Ending, feelings what feelings, Anger Management, Canon-Typical Violence, Canon Divergence, Canon-Typical Behavior, Swearing, Fluff, Romance, An End to Idiotic Pining, Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Except The Bad Guys, Humor, [Podfic] With Such Impossible Conveyance by achluophobia, contributor-sky (deepestbluesky), esbielle was also here (esbielle), flamingwell_collabs, GoLBCollabs (GodOfLaundryBaskets), Hechu, Lavendargrrl, mahons_ondine, mistingsidekick, Ohari, semperfiona_podfic (semperfiona), with (fensandmarshes), with (olive2read))

this storm that should not be by TheDameJudiWench (G, 6k, WangXian, Hurt/Comfort, Drowning, Family Dynamics) (link in #8B)

So You Accidentally Kidnapped A Qilin by Mikkeneko (T, 83k, WangXian, Juuni Kokki | Twelve Kingdoms Fusion, mdm yu’s a+ parenting, Identity Issues, Cultivator Politics, Yin Iron Poisoning, Twin Prides of Yúnmèng Feels, Yunmeng Bros Reconciliation, WWX Needs a Hug, Mutual Pining, Miscommunication, Getting Together, Temporary Character Death, Happy Ending, Pacifist WWX, MXTX Big Bang 2021) they do fight, understandable i think given the plot, but they are clearly very close, call each other brother, and have each others' back. in fact that's Mikkeneko's brand, i feel, def check out their other fics

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5. Hello! ITMF Wei Wuxian getting his original body back. In particular, fics which have big dramatic scenes where people are shocked to see WWX in said original body alive again. Thank you so much!

🔒 A Gift in a Curse’s Guise by Setyourlazerstopew (E, 9k, wangxian, post-canon, curse breaking, WWX gets his own body back, strength kink, bottom lwj, undernegotiated kink, manhandling, aftercare)

💖 Transcend by covalentbonds (Not rated, 7k, wangxian, post-canon, fluff & humor, smut, WIP)

a truth universal by curiositykilled (T, 7k, LSZ & WWX, Junior quartet, Post-Canon, Crack Treated Seriously, or at least crack that veered peculiarly into seriousness, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Trauma, Childhood Trauma, WWX's Year of Travel, MianMian cameo, LSZ's fear of abandonment, Misunderstandings, Comedy, Alcohol)

Is Your Old Body Considered a Halloween Costume? by The_peregrine_falcon (G, 3k, WangXian, Fluff, Canon Compliant, Post-Canon)

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6. Hello! Would anyone happen to know of any fics where the yin tiger seal takes a liking to Lan Wangji? @kedaliya

Little Death by sassybluee (E, 28k, wangxian, graphic depictions of violence, Canon Divergence, Dark WWX, Courtesan LWJ, Violent Thoughts, Resentacles, Mpreg, Magical Pregnancy, PWP, Heavy Angst with a Happy Ending, Pining while fucking, Bondage, Bottom LWJ, referenced lwj + others, Blood Drinking, YLLZ WWX, Near Death Experiences, accidental near death experiences, Dissociation, sentient resentful energy, Intersex, Lactation Kink, Cunnilingus, Nipple Play, Praise Kink, Dom/sub Undertones, Under-negotiated Kink, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Pregnant LWJ, Non-Consensual Body Modification) please read the tags n warnings tho :)

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7. ITMF the juniors crushing on handsome Wei Wuxian? It doesn’t have to be smutty or anything like actual serious crushes. I would love to see puppy love or them being in awe of how cool and powerful and charming he is. Thanks

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8. Hi there! Thank you for recommending so many great fics! A) Itmf fics where WWX overcomes his fear of dogs. B) Also itmf fics where LWJ rescues WWX from drowning. Many thanks 🙏

8A)

Imprints by Lisa_Telramor (G, 47k, wangxian, post-canon, humor, panic attacks, phobia recovery, poor life choices, JC & WWX reconciliation, dogs) WWX accidentally adopts a puppy. IIRC, he doesn't fully get over his fear. But he tries working on it, & is at least able to tolerate his own dog

Operation Barking Dog by RoseThorne (T, 20k, wangxian, JL & WWX, Fairy & MXY, WN & WWX, LSZ & WWX, LSZ & LWJ, Family, Mutual Pining, WWX Has a Fear of Dogs, Repaying Debt, Regret, Phobias, Trauma, Memories, Tree Climbing, There Was Only One Bed, Travel, JC in Seclusion, Cynophobia, POV Third Person, POV LWJ, Flowers, Grief/Mourning, WWX in MXY's Body, Pre-Slash, Cats, Dogs, Hair Braiding)

8B)

Ice Makes Warmth by donutsweeper (G, 1k, WangXian, Carrying, Drowning, Huddling For Warmth, Snow Storm) has a brief drowning and rescue scene

Hope Dangling by a String by KouriArashi (M, 70k, wangxian, canon divergence, fix-it, everyone lives, angst w happy ending, hurt/comfort, psychic bond, telepathy, communication, emotional/psychological abuse, jiang family feels, lan family feels, canon-typical violence, canon-typical politics, improper use of sacred forehead ribbons, gratuitous hair washing) note -- it's a long fic & the drowning thing is a major plot point in the last quarter of the fic

🔒🧡 rain falls and soaks into the earth series by RoseThorne (T, 53k, WangXian, WIP, Near Death Experience, Attempt Drowning, Madam Yu Bashing, Recovery, No war AU) can't remember if lwj saves him but wwx almost drowning is a major part of this series

this storm that should not be by TheDameJudiWench (G, 6k, WangXian, Hurt/Comfort, Drowning, Family Dynamics) also a fic where Jiang Cheng saves wwx from drowning? Not sure if requester #8 is interested. Might work for #4 as well, ymmv

~*~

9. Hello thank you for all your hard work! Itmf fics with some quality found family similar to Come Around and Stay, The Martial Arts Instructor Fic You Didn’t Know You Needed, or if you can’t beat them, recruit them. Or with a really great sense of community, like the one fic about the a**hole dog. Modern era preferred but not necessary.

leave all your love and your longing behind by ScarlettStorm (E, 14k, WangXian, Modern AU, no magic, Meet-Ugly, Panic Attacks, autistic lwj, neurodivergent wwx, the neighborhood asshole dog, if you've met one then you know, Hurt/Comfort, Pining, Minor Angst, major shenanigans, Happy Ending, for everyone including the asshole dog, Eventual Smut, switch rights, Sex Toys, horny yearning, Masturbation) asshole dog fic (link to podfic in #14)

Just Ask Me To Stay by mrcformoso (M, 21k, wangxian, past JZN/WWX, modern, Dancer WWX, Musician LWJ, Roommates, Best Friends, Friends to Lovers, Break Up, Post-Break Up, Recovery, Family, Realizing Your Best Friend is the Love of Your Life, WWX Has Self-Esteem Issues, And LWJ is not having it, Sex as Self Worth Reaffirmation, Light Angst, Anal Sex, Anal Fingering, Oral Sex, Domestic Fluff, LWJ Has a Big Dick, WWX Has a Breeding Kink, Size Queen WWX, Belly Bulge, Porn With Plot, Seriously there is a lot of plot, WWX Has Friends, LWJ Has Friends, Hurt/Comfort, A lot of comfort, Romantic Comedy, Cute, Feel-good)

🧡 Faire thee well by Scrippio (T, 77k, WangXian, ChengQing, XuanLi, 3Zun, Modern AU, Renaissance Faire, Mutual Pining, Fluff, Domestic Fluff, Slow Burn)

~*~

10. Itmf fics where

A) wangxian have marital problems like fights, and B) in connection to A, in which after a big fight, wwx being heartbroken just gives up and does something big and lwj is heartbroken too.

C) books which have scenes like, something really sweet and hearty and next moment we realise that this sweetness was only for this bad , very bad thing to happen next.

10 A/B) KILF (Knits I'd Like To Fuck in) by ScarlettStorm (E, 168k, wangxian, modern, sex work, fiber arts, 2nd in series) has a pretty big fight and reconciliation (though they aren’t married) in chapters 17-18

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11. Hello! It's my first time using this blog to look for a fic. I hope I'm doing it right. I'm in the mood for a longer (at least 20k) fanfic, preferably completed but can be WIP as well. I would like an omegaverse fic where neither Wei Wuxian nor Lan Wangji are feminized. I would prefer the fic to be plot-heavy as well. I would love Wangxian to be the main pairing but I'm okay with others as well. Thank you for your hard work. @broodyelii

Coincidence is Another Man's Fate by TriviasFolly (M, 164k, wangxian, rape/non-con, modenrn, A/B/O, Alpha LWJ, Omega WWX, Sexual Harassment, Implied/Referenced Sexual Harassment, WangXian play the long game, UNTIL THEY DON'T, Getting Together, fated pairs, Eventual Attempted Sexual Assult and Recovery, Office au, Mpreg)

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12. Are there any fics featuring a) Fierce Corpse LWJ, or b) NMJ being kept around as a fierce corpse? I've checked the 'Fierce Corpse x' tags for those characters, but there are fewer fics than I'd expected considering how much potential those ideas have, so I'm wondering if there are other fics out there without those tags? @thispatternismine

12A)

blue skies forever Series by rikke (M, 11k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, major character death in a necromantic way, necrophilia also in a necromantic way, canon divergence with the bad ending route, lwj is wwx’s corpse boyfriend)

12B)

A Bell That Tells Us to Rise and Fight by DeerstalkerDeathFrisbee (T, 120k, wangxian, JC/WQ, JYL/JZX, SL/XXC, Canon Divergence, Arranged Marriage, Everyone Lives au, Everyone Needs A Hug, Women Being Awesome, WQ is a goddess, content warning for JGS, content warning for XY, content warning for JGY, WWX's terrible awful brilliant plans, Yunmeng Bros, JYL is an angel, BAMF Women, I take it back NMJ still dies, Minor Character Death, NMJ is BACK and he is NOT HAPPY, MM is not paid enough for this shit)

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13. for the next itmf, i was wondering what are some of the best, most gut wrenching, golden core reveal fics you have ever read? it can be the main focus of the fic or one moment in a long multi chapter but the reveal is a huge part and is beautifully written? hopefully with a happy ending but anything dramatic is appreciated. thanks in advance.

we’re starting at the end by Miss_Enthusiasimal (M, 92k, wangxian, JC & WWX, time travel, canon divergence, implied/referenced suicide, golden core reveal, hurt/comfort, angst, starvation, self harm, cannibalism, amputation, sunshot campaign) I like how the core transfer reveal hits in this fic

golden as they come (but he's bleeding out) by Shializaro (T, 14k, WIP, WangXian, Poisoning, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Hurt WWX, Post-Sunshot Campaign, Pre-Phoenix Mountain Hunt, references to canibalism, POV LWJ) read their works they make me cry

A Mother’s Love by FirefliesNLightningBugs (M, 170k, WangXian, XuanLi, Canon Divergence, Somebody Lives/Not Everyone Dies, Mostly combo of the Untamed and MoDaoZuShi timelines, Unreliable Narrator, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Eventual Happy Ending, Miscommunication, Family Feels, Found Family, PTSD, Post-Sunshot Campaign, Political Intrigue, Mystery, POV Multiple, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Strong Female Characters, Additional Warnings In Author’s Note, Good Brother In Law JZX, Genderbent WWX, Intersex WWX, not a/b/o, POV Original Character, Expanded Universe, Unplanned Pregnancy, Golden Core Reveal, WWX Has No Golden Core, Cultivation Sect Politics, Bisexual WWX, YLLZ WWX, Yunmeng Shuangjie, Pining WangXian, Parent-Child Relationship, Getting Together, Protective Yúnmèng Jiāng Sect, MXY Lives) Happens in first few chapters. And a focus on the Jiang siblings' relationship is a continuing theme throughout the fic

~*~

14. In the mood for some good new podfics!

[Cold Read Podfic] leave all your love and your longing behind by Rionaa (E, 10-15 hrs, WangXian, Modern AU, no magic, Meet-Ugly, Panic Attacks, autistic lwj, neurodivergent wwx, the neighborhood asshole dog, if you've met one then you know, Hurt/Comfort, Pining, Minor Angst, major shenanigans, Happy Ending, for everyone including the asshole dog, Eventual Smut, switch rights, Sex Toys, horny yearning, Masturbation) (link to fic in #9)

Teen Project to Change the world (PODFIC) by animeloverhomura, sandradaffodils (Not Rated, 1-1.5/1.5-2 hrs, WIP, WangXian, XuanLi, Watching the Show, With a bit of the Manhua and Book thrown in, Characters Watching Their Series, characters watching the future, BAMF WWX, Fix-It, jgs is his own warning, Attractive WWX, Homophobia, Disturbing Fluff)

[Podfic] lovely thorns and singing crows by semperfiona_podfic (semperfiona) (E, 4-4.5 hrs, WangXian, Modern AU, Addams Family Vibes, meet cute at a funeral, Madam Lán Lives, Light Horror, Curses, Possession, Fluff and Humor, Developing Relationship, Found Family, Weirdo4weirdo wangxian, Eventual Smut, Blow Jobs, Hand Jobs, Audio Format: Streaming, Audio Format: MP3, Audio Format: Download, Audio Format: M4B)

[PODFIC] this humble fox by lostsometime (T, 3-3.5 hrs, WangXian, XiYao, ChengSang, SongXiaoXue, MingSu, Canon Divergence, Creatures & Monsters, Fox Spirit WWX, Minor Character Death, Espionage, Sunshot Campaign, Scheming JGY, Scheming NHS, little dogs for nhs, Slow Romance, War, Happy Ending, Somebody Lives/Not Everyone Dies)

[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 (T, 7-10 hrs, 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] decay by zaffre (G, 1.5-2 hrs, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Angst, Misunderstandings, Miscommunication, big sister wq, warnings for wwx's typical level of self-care, Fix-It, Angst with a Happy Ending, the fluffiest ending, Hurt/Comfort)

The Martial Arts Instructor Fic You Didn't Know You Needed [PODFIC] by enbysaurus_chats (enbysaurus_rex), enbysaurus_rex (M, Over 20 hrs, WIP, WangXian, Modern AU, Martial Arts, Accurate Martial Arts, Not Canon Compliant, WWX Has ADHD, Autistic LWJ, Mutual Pining, WWX being cute with kids, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Trans WWX, Trans WN, Trans JC, Trans OYZZ, PTSD, Slow Burn, BAMF WN, Aro WN, Queerplatonic Relationships, Chronic Illness, Polyamory Negotiations, Found Family, JC & WWX Reconciliation, Tags at the beginning of each chapter)

[Podfic] Take Some Advice Paesano by jennisaisquoi (M, 45-60m, WangXian, Modern AU, Mob, Mafia AU - Clown Version, Humor, Mistaken Identity, Getting Together)

~*~

15. Itmf fics w/ a similar premise to "Cleaning & Courtship" by Winxhelina on ao3. Where being a servant in a cultivation household is actually a specialized skill cause you can't damage spiritual tools or accidentally unleash curses while doing the dusting. But its a high demand w/ low supply & snotty rich cultivators.

~*~

16. Itmf fics where the wen take on wei wuxian's name, esp as a way to hide

only the dead (have seen the end of war) by comforting_monachopsis (T, 42k, WangXian, XuanLi, Temporary Amnesia, BAMF WWX, Sad LWJ, Grief/Mourning, Loneliness, Mild Gore, Medical Inaccuracies, Poetry, Secret Identity, Loss of Identity, Identity Porn, The Science of Cultivation, Good Older Sibling LXC, Good Older Sibling NMJ, Good Older Sibling WWX, NMJ is a Himbo, NHS Ships It, NHS is a Crafty Bitch, This Is Not Going To Go The Way You Think, Angst and Humor, Crossdressing, WWX is Bad at Feelings) It’s brief but they do in comforting_monachopsis’ only the dead (have seen the end of war) Also, check out the YilingWei Sect tag, because that tends to happen a lot in there

🔒 the thread may stretch or tangle but it will never break by RoseThorne (E, 88k, WIP, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Soulmates, Self-Esteem Issues, Fix-It, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Nightmares, PTSD, Handfasting, Panic Attacks, Getting Together, First Time, Aftercare, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Implied/Referenced Torture, Scars, Chronic Pain, Golden Core Reveal, First Time, Switching, sex-related injury, LWJ Stays at the Burial Mounds, LSZ is a Wèi, Good Sibling JC, Dissociation, Burial Mounds Settlement Days)

🧡 Never Again by Hauntcats (T, 67k, WangXian, WWX & WQ & WN, Canon Divergence, Time Travel, Golden Core Transfer Fix-It, Angst, Not JC Friendly, BAMF WWX)

~*~

17. Itmf fic where wwx has another pseudonym and reputation that's fairly well known, but isn't associated with him. Kinda secret identity fics

The Scarlet Lotus by rainbowninja167 (M, 137k, WangXian, Marriage of Convenience, Secret Identity, Fix-It, Angst with a Happy Ending, It Gets Worse Before It Gets Better, Canon-Typical Violence, canon-typical war crimes, Yunmeng Bros, the mortifying ordeal of getting seduced by your own husband, nonlinear chronology we die like cql, just kidding nobody dies in this fic, Slow Burn, Mutual Pining, Miscommunication) when I say I dug through 23 pages of my history for this one…

❤️ By Any Other Name by ShanaStoryteller (Not Rated, 31k, Wangxian, Canon Divergence, Crossdressing, Misunderstandings, Identity Porn, Identity reveal, Polski Translation Pod każdym innym imieniem by tehanu, [PODFIC] By Any Other Name by sakizar) in which WWX hides his resurrection with a new ID courtesy of Jiang Cheng

Rest is Revolution Series by MarbleGlove (G/T, 32k, XuanLi, WangXian, Fix-It, Post-Sunshot Campaign, this might be crack, Niè Cultivation, BAMF NHS, BAMF JYL, Canon Divergence, Madam Lán Backstory, Getting Together) I’m joking but Rest is Revolution series by MarbleGlove is a bit like that

only the dead (have seen the end of war) by comforting_monachopsis (T, 42k, wangxian, JYL/JZX, temporary amnesia, BAMF WWX, sad LWJ, grief/mourning, loneliness, mild gore, secret identity, loss of identity, identity porn, angst, humor, crossdressing)

travelers through the empty gate by stiltonbasket (M, 99k, WIP, WangXian, Royalty, Emperor WWX, Mistaken Identity, Poor LWJ, Bookshop owner LWJ, Intrigue, Court Drama, Forced Marriage, Confused WWX, POV Alternating, Parenthood, Misunderstandings, Empress LWJ, Requited Unrequited Love, Fluff, Humor, Married Life, Angst with a Happy Ending)

the devil's resting place by fuckingspacequeen (M, 27k, WIP, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Grief/Mourning, Mistaken Identity, Canonical Character Death, Canon-Typical Violence, Sentient Burial Mounds, Angst with a Happy Ending, JC & LWJ Friendship, POV LWJ, Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies)

Lay my body down by tawaen (M, 48k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Time Travel, Rogue Cultivator WWX, Eventual WangXian, No Golden Core Transfer, Not Cultivation World Friendly, Canon-Typical Violence, Not JC Friendly)

Wei Wuxian, Who’s That? by bumbledees (T, 48k, wangxian, crossdressing, pining, sibling feels)

~*~

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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iridescentmirrorsgenshin · 13 days

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Alhaitham and Kaveh - not 'friends' but 'roommates'

(This is a reworked excerpt taken from my Haikaveh essay! If you're interested you can check it out here or as a pdf <3)

Due to Chinese game restrictions, explicit mentions of homosexuality or overt queer references have resulted in less implicit ways of conveying queer relationships or characters. Therefore, same-sex characters in romantic relationships are assigned the platonic status of “best friend” or “friends”.

As such, these restrictions can be used as guidelines in establishing queercoding within Genshin Impact. It is of note, however, that this rule does not mean that all characters who are canonically “friends” are in a romantic same-sex relationship. Differentiating between same-sex couples and platonic friends (who have all been assigned the label ‘friends’) can be done by identifying particular care undertaken to ‘style’ characters. This is done so by queercoding, as in, using taboos linked to queerness; references which point to romantic connotation; or omitting certain details which casts obscurity on the nature of their ‘friendship’.

Alhaitham and Kaveh’s relationship has been styled in this way, as although various titles have been given to their relationship status, there has been no definitive term supplied overall. Alhaitham tells the Traveller that the two are “roommates”, with Kaveh confirming this, although stating that they “used to be friend(s), but not anymore”.

Within Kaveh’s Character Stories, their history as “best friends” is a painful one of separation, which can be seen as akin to a break-up, and despite their lack of status as ‘friends’, the two share an intimate knowledge of the other that no other character is privy too.

Condensing their relationship down to ‘roommates’ is an oversimplification that the narrative challenges the player to question.

This is achieved through their rapport with each other, seen within Alhaitham purposefully goading Kaveh, something which he cannot be seen to do persistently with any other character, as well as Kaveh’s unique reactions to Alhaitham, which present a side to him unlike which can be observed in his interactions with others. Additionally, the two mention the other without them present, as Alhaitham mentions Kaveh unprompted twice within the Archon Quest and once within his Story Quest, and Kaveh is prone to discussing Alhaitham with those who are aware of them living together, as Collei observes: “Seems like you always include him in the conversation, even when he isn’t here…”

When the two confirm themselves to be roommates, this is immediately followed by Paimon asking Kaveh if they are friends, to which Kaveh does not give a definitive answer too. When Paimon asks Alhaitham the same question in the Archon Quest, Alhaitham evades the question, and turns it back on Paimon, who notes that “[she] doesn’t know. That’s why [she’s] asking,” to which Alhaitham then describes Kaveh as his roommate. Although, this still is an evasion of Paimon’s initial question, Alhaitham neither denies nor confirms their friendship status. The status of their relationship is constantly called into question, for the characters they interact with, and for the player.

This casts an ambiguity over their relationship which aligns with Chinese gaming regulations in regard to same-sex couples, which in turn, points to a certain ‘styling’ of relationship which differs from general platonic friendships within the game. Where both platonic friendships and same-sex relationships can only be openly dubbed as ‘friendship’, signifiers must be present in order to differentiate these platonic friendships from the non-platonic.

Obscurity of relationship status can be used to do so – where characters are not explicitly “friends”, but are evidently tied to each other in some way, more than their assigned platonic status. Here, Kaveh and Alhaitham are irrevocably connected beyond their “roommate” status, and although they are not currently described as “friends”, they used to be, “best friends” according to Kaveh’s Character Stories, which creates a gap for interpretation.

The player is encouraged to interpret the reason for the two’s parting of ways, along with the reason for their current rapport. Although Kaveh asserts that there is a mutual “disdain” between the two, Kaveh observably talks about Alhaitham enough for Tighnari to assert: “No dinner with Kaveh is complete without a few words about Alhaitham." Rather than out of disdain, it can be surmised that Kaveh talks about Alhaitham due to the fact that he cares, as he states that the reason he has so many troubles regarding his work is because he cares so much about it.

When paralleled with his troubles with Alhaitham, being that Alhaitham finds a way to “infuriate” him every time they talk, it can be inferred that Kaveh’s approach to dealing with his work is the same as to how he deals with Alhaitham.

If Kaveh’s assertation that the “disdain” between the two of them was true, then there is no basis for him to talk about Alhaitham as much as he does. This is due to his attitude in caring about something results in him verbally expounding the problem, the same behaviour he exhibits when dealing with Alhaitham. By his own reasoning, if Kaveh did not care about Alhaitham, he would not be so “infuriate[d]” by his words.

In turn, the player can see Alhaitham’s care of Kaveh manifest in his concern for Kaveh’s wellbeing within A Parade of Providence. In this sense, the rapport the two have currently which the narrative prompts the player to question can be explained. The two hold a mutual concern and care for the other, but due to elements in their past, they cannot address this, and thus it goes unspoken. The same can be said about the explicit status of their relationship, as no canon label applied to the two can truly explain their relationship, with ‘roommates’ being a clear oversimplification of their bond, and always followed up with the question of their friendship.

Alhaitham and Kaveh’s status as ‘friends’ is disrupted, not only due to the canon ending of their friendship in the past, but also in the current narrative of the game due to this refused label. Alhaitham and Kaveh do not adhere to the status of ‘friends’, either evading it (Alhaitham) or outright denying it (Kaveh), however, their bond remains central to each of their respective narratives, so much so that their differing viewpoints are integral to the other.

Alhaitham and Kaveh have been designed so that they are integral to each other, and the obscurity of their relationship acts as a signifier that their bond is not of a typical platonic friendship.

In Chinese gaming restrictions regulating platonic bonds and romantic bonds between same-sex characters as strictly ‘friendship’, Genshin Impact can be seen to subvert this in order to queercode. By creating an obscure bond between a same-sex relationship, a bond which the game constantly calls into question, a silence has been generated as to what the status of the relationship really is. The depth to Alhaitham and Kaveh’s relationship and the unspoken nature of it alludes to the queer taboo, in that its inability to be definitively labelled generates an otherness than that of an easily understood platonic bond.

#haikaveh #kavetham #alhaitham #kaveh #haikaveh meta #genshin meta #how have i just properly clocked that the library scene and kaveh saying the thing about caring are in the SAME hangout ending #i feel like im chewing on sawdust #i am wringing out every instance of heavy traces of homosexuality in the writing of these two #they make me crazy insane #they are deliberately avoiding labels #theyre not friends or roommates theyre a secret third thing #homosexual - but you didnt hear this from me!!#also im gonna be posting about a parade of providence at some point #because it owns my being #its one of my fav parts from the essay hehehe

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sarascamander · 22 days

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What I want in season 4:

1) I don't think we'll get the full story of how Five founded the Commission but I at least want Five to create his own time traveling briefcase with his power so it foreshadows that Five founded the Commission and have the potential ability to do so. Maybe he used it to return to the original timeline or whatnot (this assuming if they got their power back)

2) Five and Allison interaction!!! I'm not lying when I say that Five and Allison have the least interaction in the show and they deserve a moment! And not with Nice Allison either, but emo heartbroken Allison! I want to see them argue and have one to one conversation (or combat, who knows)

3) Viktor playing the violin. Come on, it's the last season, he deserves to play it for the last time (w/o destroying the world, ofc)

4) Diego and Lila's kid to be named "Grace" because Diego loves his mom so much and Grace deserves a tribute honestly.

5) I don't actually mind if Luther didn't find Sloane. I mean, they're cute but they know each other for literal days. I just wish Luther would grow on his own and while searching for Sloane, he realized that maybe they rushed things and while they do love and care for each other, they still take their time to rebuild their relationship and get to know each other all over again.

6) Ben and Diego to form a duo because they hate each other's gut so much it's hilarious. (I honestly don't know what my expectation is for Ben but I wish he opened up a bit to the Brellies)

7) Abigail's character to be evil. Idk why, I just want her to be worse than Reggie lmao or at least, his match.

8) like Ben, idk what to expect from Klaus and I really couldn't predict what he'll do in s4. He's always a wild card.

9) I read some fanfics that Five, Lila and Diego live together and it's canon to me now. Nothing can change this fact.

#the umbrella academy #five hargreeves #klaus hargreeves #ben hargreeves #viktor hargreeves #allison hargreeves

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punkshort · 8 months

Text

Chapter warnings: language, angst, references to SA, depression, PTSD, some mild sexual talk

A/N: I live nowhere near the places we talk about below, I relied heavily on google maps

Chapter Seventeen

Pairing: Joel x F!Reader, pre-outbreak and post outbreak

AU (the only thing I kept was the outbreak, Joel, and Tommy's characters. Joel's backstory is different, and the way he finds Jackson is different. I may include Ellie one day, I just haven't planned that far)

Fic Summary: You worked for Joel and Tommy a few months before the outbreak. The outbreak happens, and you and Joel get stuck traveling the country and keeping each other safe. Neither of you spoke about the feelings you had for one another pre-outbreak, and in a post-apocalyptic world, it seems like survival should be your only focus. But feelings can't be ignored forever.

Fic tags: Explicit Smut (18+ MDNI), Smut, Language, Canon-Typical Violence, Alcohol Use, Age Difference (Reader is 10 years younger than Joel), slow burn, mutual pining, angst, trauma, SA referencing later but I will put a big warning on those chapters

July 2004

Denver, CO

It's been a little over a month since you and Joel fled Kansas City. Joel was determined to create as much distance as quickly as possible, focusing every day on walking as far as your legs would take you. At first, he was terrified of Amy's people coming after you when they inevitably found Keith's body. Once it became more and more unlikely that you would cross paths with them, his anxiety shifted to the terrain. There wasn't much cover between Kansas City and Denver, it being mostly open plains, so it encouraged Joel to constantly keep moving. He told you these excuses to keep you traveling west, towards the mountains, but what he didn't say was he wanted the distraction. For both you and for him.

Every spare moment he had he found himself reliving that horrible night, the things you went through while he failed to keep you safe. While fucking Amy was coming onto him in that shitty little office. He had never told you about his interaction with her. He knew right now it could be the very thing that would break you. He didn't see the point in it anyway, nothing had happened, but in the interest of being completely honest, he planned to tell you one day. Just not now. Right now, you were an absolute mess, like a fragile flower that had been ruthlessly stomped on and was desperately clinging to life. It broke his heart to look at your sullen features every day, features that used to be filled with so much joy and warmth. He couldn't even remember the last time he saw you smile or saw a spark in your eye.

Once your shock wore off, he found out very quickly that you didn't want to be touched. That first night when he made camp, after he got you out of the city limits and back into the forest as deep as you could go in the pitch black of night, he tried to hold you, tried to talk about what happened. But you had jumped at his touch, scrambling away with your eyes wild, nearly tripping over your feet. You apologized to him, and you forced yourself to let him hug you, but he could feel how tense you were in his arms, how uncomfortable you were, and his heart shattered. You had been through enough and he wasn't going to force you to do anything, even if it killed him every time he caught himself instinctually reaching out to you at night. He left it in your hands to make the first move. When you were ready, he knew you would. But it's been over a month, and you hadn't tried to touch him, even to hold his hand or to tap his shoulder to get his attention. He knew not to take it personally, that it wasn't his touch, but it was any touch that you despised. Even though he knew this, his heart and body still ached for you.

You would talk to him, although it wasn't ever playful or flirty anymore. Mostly just about survival. He felt like you were distant and detached, like you were on autopilot. You never mentioned the assault, and he didn't bring it up. He knew it was his fault. It ate him alive, and he carried that burden with him every day. Selfishly, he felt like he was grieving a loss. The loss of the person you once were. And he was terrified he was never going to get you back.

Joel did the only thing he could think of, and that was to give you space. He knew you needed to process your trauma and he didn't want to force you through it. So, he gave you space, but he physically never let you out of his sight. He was never going to make that mistake again. He wouldn't ever tell you that even when you said you needed to pee, he would follow you just enough to keep an eye on you. He definitely would never tell you that when he followed you, he watched you sob quietly into your hands for a few minutes almost every day, at least once a day. Most often he had to fight the urge to cry himself. It destroyed him that you kept your emotions hidden, that you didn't feel comfortable expressing your grief to him.

Before you entered the community in Kansas City, you had said to him "us or them, right?" And he told you yes, it was always the both of you against the world. It was beginning to feel like there was no more "us", that his broken promise destroyed everything. Even when you had to kill someone for the first time, it ripped you apart, but you still went to him for comfort. You sobbed in his arms until you ran out of breath, and then he tried to fix it for you. Afterwards, you were distant, but he was able to draw you back out. This was not like that time. Nothing he did worked, and his grief was morphing into fear. Fear of losing you forever.

"Joel?" you quietly called out behind him, and his head snapped around to face you, desperate for anything you offered him.

"Can we rest soon?" you asked, shifting your backpack on your shoulders. "It's so hot, and I -"

"Yeah, 'course, let's stop here. There's a stream I saw nearby, I can still hear it. We can fill our canteens and wash up a bit," he was too overeager, he knew it, as he tried to give you anything you wanted. You flopped down on a broken tree trunk and hung your head between your knees. He rustled around in his pack until he found some unopened trail mix and a can of chicken. He reached both out to you, waving them low to the ground so you would see. You saw the chicken and brought your head back up to meet his gaze, your jaw hanging open.

"When did you get that?" It was never a favorite of yours before the world ended, but you developed a taste for it over time, growing sick of the same old granola bars and soup.

He couldn't help but smile. You weren't the happiest he’d ever seen you, but some color returned to your face, and that was progress in his book.

"Found it in that rest stop yesterday. Wanted to surprise you," he shook the can and the trail mix, urging you to take it from him. You were so eager that your fingers accidentally slid along his, and his heart leapt into his throat. For once, you didn't flinch at the contact, or maybe in your excitement you didn't notice, but either way he had a hard time wiping the smile off his face.

He sat on the forest floor across from you and ate some beef jerky, admiring the trees. According to his map, you were on the west side of Denver now, in the middle of a huge cluster of mountains and forests. He noticed you seemed more at ease in nature. More protected. He had been to Yellowstone with Tommy in his 20s, and he had fond memories of the trip. Tommy always used to talk about it, and even had pictures framed in his office. He didn't mention it to you yet, but his goal was to take you there. Maybe it would give you peace the way it brought him peace in his memories. He remembered there being tons of campgrounds. He liked to imagine finding a safe and secluded area and fixing up a cabin to have a wraparound porch with blue shutters. He knew it was a long shot, but it was the one fantasy he allowed himself to have.

"We've been walking for so long, and it's been so hot," you said, breaking the silence. "Do you think if we find a place, maybe we can stay for a bit? Until the weather breaks?" You looked up at him from your food, eyes hopeful. He could never say no to you. Yellowstone can wait.

"Yes," he said, "I'm sorry. Next time we find a shelter that's in good shape, we can lay low for a while."

"You don't need to be sorry," you said, picking at your trail mix.

"Yeah, I do." Joel replied, his eyebrows bunched together. You regarded him carefully, reading between the lines.

You didn't want to bring it up. You didn't want to think about it. You shifted your weight uncomfortably on the tree and looked at the ground.

"You wanna go wash up in that stream? I'll keep watch, don't know if we'll get another chance for a while," he said, changing the subject immediately. You could see the pain he was hiding behind his eyes, you saw it every day. You wanted to reach out to him, to help relieve his guilt, but you just couldn't bring yourself to do it. Not because you thought it was his fault, although early on you admittedly did blame him. It was too much to process back then. Your own grief and trauma was taking precedence, and you had to let Joel work through his emotions on his own. The weight of what happened was holding you down so intensely that you couldn't bring yourself to take on one more thing.

"Yeah, sure," you said, finishing up your food and digging around your pack for some fresh clothes and a small towel.

Joel did exactly as he said he would. He stood guard while you washed up, your backs to each other as you peeled off each piece of clothing and cleansed the skin underneath it, before putting fresh clothes over and moving on to the next area. You weren't comfortable being fully exposed, and he understood that. You never really were comfortable with it in the woods. But it still made his chest ache. Like something was stolen from you that day, and he missed it.

It wasn't until three days later that you found a small cabin. From the looks of it, Joel guessed it was part of the national parks department, a place for service rangers to rest or call for help when on patrol. It only had a bedroom, a half bathroom, a small seating area and a kitchen that looked more like a breakroom. But it was secluded, and it was safe, so Joel agreed to set up camp for a while.

He was pleased to find a fully stocked first aid kit, no doubt courtesy of the government, as well as a reasonable amount of dried goods and clean linens. There was one rifle locked in a cabinet which was easily broken into with his hunting knife, just in case he needed the spare weapon. He wasn't sure how long you would end up staying there. He didn't want to rush you, there was no point. Nothing was out there for you, anyway. But he always imagined finding you a house bigger than this.

As Joel was taking inventory of the goods, you walked around the small space. There was a huge map above the couch that you examined. It was a close up of the forests you were currently in. You trailed your finger down the map, looking at how far the two of you had walked in the past month. The hilly terrain made your accomplishment all the more impressive. Joel had been watching you out of the corner of his eye when you spoke.

"We're close to the Wyoming border," you said, your eyes lifting towards the top of the map, but the state in question was cut off. Joel cleared his throat.

"Yeah, I know. Hey, I was thinkin'," he began, flattening his hands on the kitchen counter, "What do you think 'bout headin' to Yellowstone? You ever been?" You shook your head.

"No, what's in Yellowstone?" You turned to him now. His chest ached at how tired you looked.

"Well, nothin' really. I was there once. With Tommy, when we were younger. It's lots of land, forests, hills. Figured it might be safe," at the word safe, his eyes turned down to look at the counter and his fingers brushed over the keychain in his pocket, unable to look you in the eye. "Lots of campgrounds, some real nice ones. Maybe we find someplace we can call home."

You don't know why you never considered the destination before now. You always imagined the pair of you would always be on the move, always looking for something that inevitably didn't exist. Joel had always been so adamant about having a goal: finding your parents, finding Tommy, finding a community. He had never suggested just stopping and living your lives together, alone.

"What about Tommy?" you asked him quietly. Ever since he mentioned finding his brother all those months ago, you knew it was a lost cause. He could be anywhere; he could be dead. In all likelihood, he probably was dead. But that wasn't for you to decide. Joel needed to come to that conclusion on his own. And it finally seemed like he did.

"I ain't gonna find Tommy, it was a dumb idea in the first place," he said, a fist clenching as he rapped his knuckles on the counter. "We need to find someplace before winter. I don't wanna be out in the snow like last year. I just-" he kept his eyes cast down and gave a small shrug, "I just wanna be with you."

You turned away as you felt the tears stinging the backs of your eyes. You knew he was trying, and you knew the way you pulled away from him hurt. You tried. You really did. But every time you hyped yourself up to touch him, to let him touch you, you felt the bile rising in the back of your throat. It wasn't fair, it didn't have anything to do with your feelings for him. But it was like your body just couldn't accept it, that you physically recoiled from the slightest touch, and you couldn't control it. Your mind wanted to reach out and comfort him, but your body kept you firmly planted on the worn wooden floors.

"That sounds nice," you told him, looking back at the map. His eyes shot up at your words, his eyebrows raised. Relief flooded through him, hearing that you liked his plan. Maybe one day, many years later, the two of you would find a community or other people to trust, but for now, it could just be the two of you.

"Alright, then," he said, straightening up. "In the meantime, let's stay here awhile. Wait for this heat to break. I figure we can make it to Yellowstone by October if we really push. Before the snow flies," he chewed his lip and glanced at his watch. There was enough daylight left to go gather some wood for a fire and maybe even shoot a rabbit, if he was lucky. But he didn't want to leave you alone.

"You wanna come with me, explore the area a bit?" he asked, trying to sound casual. But you knew what he was doing. He hadn't left you alone for a month. You didn't push back, you let him be protective. It was the least you could do if you couldn't bring yourself to open up to him. You nodded and leaned over to pull your pack back on.

"Sure," you said, slinging your bow over your back and followed him out the door, back into the summer heat.

The next few weeks were pretty much the same. The two of you scavenged for food in the mornings, before the heat became too oppressive and the animals hid. You spent your afternoons reading or napping while Joel skinned whatever animal you managed to kill that day and gathered wood and dead brush on the outskirts of the cabin, never straying far and finding excuses to come inside and check on you every so often. There was a small creek about a 10 minute walk south of the cabin where you would both go to fill up your canteens in the late afternoon and take turns bathing. Then he would start a fire to cook the meat while you prepared some instant potatoes, or rice, or anything else you found. Your dry and canned goods were starting to run low, so you used them sparingly. After you ate, you spent some time outside, soaking up the sun or reading. Joel would always stay close, sometimes walking a circuit around the cabin or reviewing some more detailed maps of the area left behind by the park rangers. At night, you shared the small bed, guiltily clinging to the edge of the mattress to create as much distance as possible, holding back your tears until he fell asleep.

It must have been the end of August by now. The days were hot, but the nights were cool, indicating fall was around the corner. You remembered Joel's plan to reach Yellowstone by October, so you knew your time at the cabin was coming to an end. You were fine with that. The cabin served its purpose. It kept you dry and safe so you could both rest your bodies before the month-long trek ahead of you. And with your food supplies dwindling, you knew it was time to move on. Joel didn't say anything, didn't want to push you into leaving, so you brought it up on your own, asking him when he thought you should head out. He seemed surprised that morning, expecting you to want to stay longer. He searched your eyes to make sure you weren't bringing it up because you felt he wanted to go, that you wanted to leave on your own volition.

"Why don't we plan on leavin' in a couple days?" he offered, and you nodded, finishing up your bowl of blackberries from a bush you had found not too far from the cabin.

"I was thinkin', I saw some deer at that creek few days ago. Maybe I can get us one and we can make some jerky. Should only take half a day to cook it. It'll give us somethin' til we find more food on the way," he glanced up to look at you. "You wanna come with me? Bring that bow of yours, it's quieter." He already knew the answer, but he always asked you, anyway. He wanted to give you the choice. If you ever said no, which was rare, he would just skip hunting and make do until the next day.

"Yep, sounds good," you said, getting up to rinse your bowl in the sink with the rest of the water from your canteen. "I need to refill these, anyway." You placed them both by the door and walked into the bedroom to change, closing the door behind you. Joel's eyes remained glued to the door as he tried to stifle his sadness. Any time he thought you were making progress, something happened to remind him how damaged you were. Something like closing the door to change in private made him rub his chest. You never would have bothered before. He was beginning to think he would never get back what he had with you. That those animals stole something from you, and he fucking let them. He swiped at the corner of his eye before he stood up and gathered his things. He was checking to make sure the rifle was loaded when you came out of the bedroom, slinging your bow over your shoulder, ready to go.

As you approached the creek, he held out a hand to his side to signify that you should be quiet and slow, watching your step to make sure you didn't potentially scare anything away. You got to the creek and didn't see anything, so you stooped down to refill your canteens, then followed Joel to a boulder not far down on the side of the creek, posting up to wait for any deer who might come to get a drink on the warm summer day.

You sat in silence, watching the sun move above the trees and the sunlight dappling the forest floor. Joel kept his head turned towards the creek, but you stared directly ahead into the forest, lost in thought. You nearly jumped when Joel cleared his throat as quietly as he could, not wanting to touch you, to get your attention. You looked and saw a doe about 15 yards away, standing in front of the creek, flicking her ears and glancing around hesitantly before bringing her head down to the cool water. You handed Joel your bow and he took it without looking, eyes fixed on the deer, as he leaned forward on one knee and loaded an arrow, drawing back. You saw a flutter of movement in a bush next to the doe and let out a soft gasp as you watched a baby fawn stumble out from the thicket, legs still shaky.

You reached your hand out and placed it on Joel's shoulder, stopping him from shooting. He didn't realize he was so touched starved until the contact nearly made him fall over. Keeping his fingers on the arrow, he disengaged the string slowly, letting his arms fall to his sides. He sat back next to you, taking the pressure off his knee and tried not to chase after your touch when you let your hand drop. You both sat and watched the deer together, as the new life stumbled forward to hide under its mother while she continued to drink. It started as a single tear, and then before you knew it your cheeks were damp from the steady flow as you silently cried. Joel turned his head to look for your reaction when the fawn tucked its long legs underneath its body to rest against the doe, only then noticing your tears.

"You alright?" He whispered, face etched with concern and his fists clenching at his side to keep from reaching out to you. You just shook your head and buried your face in your open palms as a shaky sob erupted from your throat. You rocked back and forth, your face still hidden in your hands, while Joel struggled with how to help, his arms reaching out, hovering in the air, and bringing them back. Then, to his surprise, you dropped your hands and lunged yourself forward into his chest, your face pressed against his tanned neck and your arms wrapped around his torso as your body shook. He immediately pinned you to him, his arms holding you as tight as he dared, his cheek resting on the top of your head. He slid a hand up from your back to cradle your head, your tears running down his neck and chest. He leaned back against the boulder, pulling you with him. You clutched the front of his flannel in your fist, your face still streaming with tears, wailing against his chest while he rocked you back and forth. His eyes were burning with the tears he refused to release, desperately trying to be strong for you.

"I got you, sweetheart, I got you," he murmured in your hair.

"I'm so sorry, Joel," you cried, burying your face further into his neck as fresh sobs wracked your body. He shook his head fiercely back and forth, even though you couldn't see him, and two tears made their way down his face.

"Don't you dare apologize, you did nothin' wrong, you hear me?" he choked out, more tears flowing now. He swallowed roughly as he dragged in a shaky breath. "I'm the one who's sorry, it's all my fault. I shoulda listened to you, you told me so many fuckin' times and I ignored you. I swear, I'm never gonna forgive myself." He squeezed his eyes shut and held you tighter against him.

"It's not your fault, it's their fault," you said, wiping your nose on the back of your hand. "You were just trying to keep us safe; you didn't know."

He bit the inside of his cheek, overwhelmed with your kindness, to not place the blame on him. He would still blame himself, but it eased his mind to hear you say it anyway. He held you against him until your cries turned to sniffles. Then your fist relaxed, releasing his flannel from your grasp, and ran your hand under the collar of his shirt to rest your palm against his bare shoulder, his skin hot under your touch. He felt a shiver go down his spine, even under the warmth of the sun.

You weren't sure how long you stayed like that, but the sun had shifted to where it was blinding you through the leaves of the trees, so you removed your hand from inside his shirt and lifted your head up to look at him. His eyes were closed, and his cheeks were dried with tears as you watched the sun dance over his face. You took in his features like you were seeing them for the first time. The small wrinkles next to his closed eyes, his angular nose, his patchy beard that needed to be trimmed, and lastly you let your eyes settle on his parted lips.

You glanced back up to confirm his eyes were still shut. You knew he wasn't sleeping because you felt him mindlessly rubbing a hand across your back. You took a shaky breath and leaned forward, gently pressing your lips against his. His eyebrows shot up in surprise, but his eyes remained closed as he reciprocated your kiss, letting you set the pace. You brought a hand up to cup his cheek, pulling back a moment before gingerly pushing your lips back against his once more. You sighed as you broke away, resting your foreheads together.

"What can I do?" he asked you, "I need to do somethin'. I wanna help you."

"There is one thing," you told him, leaning back so you could look at him, your fingers intertwining with his on his lap. He sat up straighter, giving you his full attention.

"Name it, I'll do anythin'," he said earnestly.

"Find me a home, Joel," your fingers gently traced over his as you stared into his deep, brown eyes. "I want a new life. I just want to be with you."

He smiled when he heard you echo his words back to him and reached a hand out to tuck a stray piece of hair behind your ear.

"You got it, sweetheart."

That night, Joel gave you your space as usual in the small bed. He was on the verge of sleep when he felt your hand spreading over his chest and your face nestling in his shoulder. His heart hammered in his chest so hard, you could probably feel it. He wasn't sure if you would ever be the same again, or if your relationship would ever be the same, but he was ok with that. If you found a shred of peace by his side, then he would stay right there until his dying day.

September 2004

You had been traveling for almost three weeks, the crisp fall air biting at your cheeks. You weren't exactly sure what the date was anymore, but you had to guess it was the end of September by now, based on how early it got dark and the leaves piling up on the ground. You were in a very small town called Daniel, Wyoming. You walked down Main Street with Joel, eyeing up the buildings. It was quiet, most likely abandoned, and you hadn't heard any indication of infected nearby, so you held your bow loosely at your side as you read the signs outside the buildings. You both zeroed in on a trading store next to the post office, hoping it wasn't picked over and you could restock some of your supplies. You had gotten lucky over the past few weeks, killing rabbits and squirrels as your primary source of food and finding a few cans or dry goods here and there. The journey hadn't been too bad, but Joel was eager to get to Yellowstone and find you a home. He wanted to have enough time to stock up the cabin or house you picked with supplies before it got too cold.

Joel confirmed the store was clear and ushered you inside. It was warm, and you welcomed the break from the wind. Joel went to the clothing section to look over winter clothes and accessories you would need while you went to see what food was left behind. You were stuffing your backpack full of any food you could fit when your eyes landed on a red can. You flicked your gaze back to Joel, who was engrossed with picking out a flannel that looked exactly like the one he was wearing, but newer. You reached back onto the shelf and pulled out two cans of Beefaroni, shoving them deep down in your pack so he wouldn't see them.

As you were finishing up, Joel walked up behind you holding up a few long sleeve women's thermal tops.

"Whaddya think?" he asked, holding them up. You nodded, taking all three from his hands and then glanced down at your overfilled pack.

"Can you carry them for me? Mine's full." You held them back out to him, and he carefully folded them up and put them in his backpack. He jutted his chin towards your pack.

"Find anything good?" he asked as he shouldered his bag and picked up his rifle.

"Yep," was all you said, but he caught the corner of your mouth turn up right before you bent over to pick up your things. He looked at you curiously with his eyebrows pinched, a small smile playing on his lips. "What?" you asked him innocently.

"Nothin'," he said, turning back around to survey the store. "Do we need anythin' else before we head out? We got a few more hours of daylight, I'd like to make the most of it."

"I think we should be good til we get there," you told him, following him out of the store. "What did you think, another week or so?"

"Yeah, give or take. It's a big park, there's lots of areas to explore. Once we get there, we can take our time pickin' a spot, settle in, and stock up for the winter." He opened his map as you made your way down the street. "I reckon we can follow the 191 the whole way," he pointed down the street where you could see a T in the road. "That should be it right there."

You walked until the sun began to dip below the trees. Joel was building a fire and grumbling about shorter days and less time to cover ground while you were rolling out your sleeping bags. He picked up his rifle and stood to head out into the woods. You noticed ever since your breakthrough with him, he was feeling more confident about leaving you alone, as long as you were comfortable with it. And he always asked. Every time. Today was no exception.

"I'll go out and see if I can find us a rabbit or somethin', they'll probably be out now that it's dusk. You wanna come with or do you wanna hang back?" He had his rifle slung over his shoulder and he looked down at you with warmth in his eyes. It was funny, it's only been a year, but if your coworkers saw him how he was now, they would never believe it. But you knew he reserved this side of himself just for you. You remember seeing his darker side before, most prominently when he confronted Keith after your assault. At the time, it scared you how quickly he was able to flip that switch. But now you understood there was nothing to fear when it came to him. At least, you didn't have anything to fear.

"Why don't you skip hunting today, I have a surprise for you," you said, the corners of your mouth turning up into a smile. You were slowly starting to smile more again, and every single time it made him grin. He immediately slid his rifle off his shoulder and laid it on the ground, sitting down on top of his sleeping bag next to you.

"Well, how could I say 'no' to that," he teased. He dusted his hands on the sides of his jeans and looked at you expectantly. You turned to rummage in your pack, taking you a minute to find the cans you shoved all the way to the bottom. You pulled them out and hid them behind your back.

"Pick a hand," you said, and his eyes bounced back and forth between your shoulders as he decided, the light from the fire making them sparkle. Finally, he reached out and pointed to your right hand. He was still very careful about touching you, only ever doing so after you’d initiated contact. You took your hand out from behind your back and handed him the can of Beefaroni.

"Happy Birthday," you said as his face shone with excitement, his eyebrows raised high, and his jaw hung open. He reached out and cradled it like it was gold before looking back up to you.

"How do you know if it's my birthday?" he asked, and you shrugged.

"I guessed. It's gotta be around now, right? Do you like it?" You looked at him eagerly as he turned the can over in his hands.

"Well, that depends. What's in the other hand?"

You immediately brought your left hand around to hand him the second can, and he jokingly clutched his chest and fell backwards, his hand catching himself at the last minute, then pushed himself back up. You giggled, and his eyes shot up to yours, trying to hide his shock. That was definitely the first time you laughed since your assault. Warmth spread across his chest at the sound, and he looked down at the two cans in his hand.

"I never got you anythin' for your birthday," he said, still looking down with a smile. You waved him off.

"You're getting me a home, that's all I want," you told him, scrounging in your bag to find a can of chicken you tucked away for yourself.

You ate in front of the fire in a comfortable silence, watching the fireflies and listening to the insects chirp around you. He finished his can and set it down by the fire, leaning back a bit to fish the keychain out of his pocket.

"Beefaroni was a great gift, sweetheart, but this one is still hard to top," and he dangled the keychain in front of you. You were about to take a bite of food when your hand froze in midair. You looked from the keychain, to Joel, then back again before putting the fork down.

"Can I see?" you asked, and he placed the keychain in your palm. You could tell the chrome edge was worn from being rubbed in his pocket, but the Texas flag was still just as bright. You handed it back to him with a smile.

"I keep forgetting you have that," you admitted, your fingers fidgeting in your lap. He tucked it back into his pocket.

"I always got it on me," he told you. You looked at each other in the glow of the fire until you bit your lip and looked away. Joel never pressured you to be physical after your assault. He didn't even flirt the way he used to. The best he would do was tease you a little. He left all of that up to you, and he was incredibly patient. You only kissed him twice since that afternoon in the forest, and they were both very brief. Even then, he never attempted to deepen the kiss, giving you complete control. You wanted that part of your relationship back, but you were scared what it would be like, or if you were ready.

You looked back over at him. He was staring into the fire now, his legs stretched out and leaning back on his hands. You swallowed, then inched over to him, tucking your head into his shoulder. He shifted so his weight was all on one hand, and he picked up the other to wrap around your hips, his palm flat against the top of your thigh. You turned your face up to look at his, and when he glanced down back at you, you leaned up to press your lips against his mouth. He kept his hands where they were and gently massaged his lips on yours, still not looking to take anything further. Your heart swelled at his patience and restraint, overwhelmed by his sweetness. Before you had a chance to overthink it, you delicately licked at his lips, wanting to deepen the kiss. You felt his hesitation before gently opening his lips, letting you be the one to explore. You nervously ran your tongue up and down his, moving much slower than either of you ever had in the past. All of your memories came flooding back of better times, and you realized just how much you missed being this close to him. You applied more pressure as his hand came up to cradle your face, stroking his thumb over your cheek as you swirled your tongue around his with more confidence. His hand was getting sore holding himself up, so he cupped your jaw with both hands while he eased himself back. He was lying flat on the ground now with you next to him, your upper body resting on top of his chest, your tongue never leaving his mouth. You felt the heat from the fire on your back as you pulled back to catch your breath, leaving a slow trail of kisses along his jaw. His fingers gently raked up and down your back, his adrenaline catching up with him now. He was trying so hard to hold back, to let you take it as far as you wanted. His eyes fluttered closed as you peppered kisses down his throat. You were finding it difficult to reach his neck from your angle, so without thinking, you swung your leg over his hips, your mouth continuing its trail.

You should have gone slower, you should have thought it through more. The way you were situated on him now left your core directly over his growing erection. You didn't even realize it until you shifted your weight back on your hips, pressing yourself on him and feeling his hardening cock, and he groaned softly. Your mind didn't even catch up with your body before you found yourself scrambling backwards off his lap, back to the safety of your sleeping bag. He sat up with a jolt, his eyes filled with concern.

"What'd I do?" he asked, looking you over as if he could find something physically wrong. You shook your head, trying to rid your mind of the man who forcibly pressed your hand against his erection, rubbing your wrist subconsciously. Your chest felt tight as you gasped for air. You rubbed the heels of your hands into your eyes, trying to stop the tears from falling.

"Nothing, you didn't do anything," you gasped. "It was me. I thought I was ready, I thought... I'm so sorry, Joel." Your face crumpled, tucking your knees into your chest. You tried to hide your face in your shoulder, but he reached out and hooked a finger under your chin, dragging your eyes up to meet his.

"You got nothin' to be sorry for, it's ok," he said softly, and you sniffled. "Don't cry, I promise it's ok," his thumb wiped a tear from your cheek as he gazed down at you. Your breathing was returning to normal, and your chest felt looser. You sighed and leaned into his touch.

"Why don't we get some sleep?" He asked, trying to change the subject. "I wanna take advantage of as much daylight as possible. Sooner we get there, the better, yeah?" You nodded and rubbed your nose on the back of your hand.

You waited until he got settled in his sleeping bag before tentatively reaching an arm over to drape across his chest. His eyes were closed but you saw him smile, and his hand came up to hold yours, bringing it up to his lips to plant a kiss on the inside of your wrist.

"You alright?" he whispered, turning his head to look at you now. You nodded.

"I will be," you said.

Over the next two days, Joel had you up at the crack of dawn to get started on your journey. The days were getting chillier, but the sun provided some warmth as you moved through the mountains. You were taking a small break, sitting on a guardrail eating while Joel examined his worn-out map, his eyes squinting at the paper. You poked him in the shoulder, startling him.

“You need glasses, old man?” you teased, and he couldn’t keep the smirk from his face. He shook his head at you before focusing back down on the map.

“I’m 37, not 77,” he muttered. You smiled as you looked up and down the highway, seeing nothing but a few abandoned cars, but then some rustling in the trees lining the road grabbed your attention. Joel held out his hand for your bow, hoping to snag a rabbit. You pressed it into his hand, and he grabbed an arrow from your backpack, loading it up and taking aim at the dense forest, waiting for the animal to show itself. But the animal that appeared was far bigger than a rabbit.

You blinked rapidly a few times, unable to process seeing a horse standing just 20 feet in front of you. Then, four more horses appeared through the trees, standing and staring at you. You assumed because you hadn’t seen a horse in so long that it took you an extra minute to realize there were riders on their backs. The people had their faces partially covered with bandanas and had their guns aimed directly at you.

“Drop the bow,” a woman’s voice said, taking you by surprise. You weren’t sure you’ve ever seen a female raider before.

Joel lowered the bow carefully, never taking his eyes off the woman in front who was clearly their leader. With the bow no longer obscuring his face, he held his hands up and jutted his chin out, sidestepping so he could block you with his body.

“Whaddya want?” he asked her roughly, his scowl returning. Before she could respond, another voice piped up from beside her.

“Joel?!”

His eyes swung to the man on the horse next to the woman as he yanked his bandana down, revealing his face for the first time. You gasped, then you both spoke in unison.

“Tommy?”

Chapter Eighteen

Tag list: @chiogarza, @sparklejumpropequeen-777, @shotgun-shelby

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