#Knee Pain Relief Solution

[gaingrove]

Knee Pain Relief: Natural Remedies for Arthritis and Joint Pain

If you’re struggling with persistent knee discomfort, you’re not alone. Millions of Americans suffer from knee pain, often caused by arthritis, injuries, or underlying medical conditions. However, there’s hope — this comprehensive guide explores natural, evidence-based solutions to alleviate your knee pain and improve your overall joint health.

From anti-inflammatory diets and herbal remedies to targeted exercises and alternative therapies, we’ll delve into a wide range of natural approaches that can help reduce inflammation, increase mobility, and provide lasting relief for your knee joint pain. Whether you’re dealing with the debilitating effects of arthritis or simply looking to maintain the health of your knees, this guide will empower you to take control of your well-being and find the natural path to knee pain relief.

Key Takeaways

Learn about safe, natural solutions and efficient therapies for knee pain caused by injuries, arthritis, and other ailments.

Learn how to reduce inflammation, improve mobility, and find lasting relief for your knee joint pain.

Explore the benefits of an anti-inflammatory diet, herbal supplements, and targeted exercises for knee pain management.

Understand the role of alternative therapies, such as acupuncture and massage, in providing natural relief for knee pain.

For long-term wellbeing, create a thorough, all-encompassing strategy for managing and preventing knee discomfort.

Understanding Knee Pain

A frequent problem that affects people of all ages and activity levels is knee discomfort. Finding effective relief from knee pain requires knowledge of the main reasons and symptoms, whether you’re an athlete, weekend warrior, or just aging gracefully.

Common Causes of Knee Pain

One of the primary culprits behind knee pain is arthritis, a degenerative condition that can lead to the breakdown of cartilage and inflammation in the joint. Other common causes of knee pain include injuries, such as ACL tears, meniscus tears, or sprains, as well as underlying medical conditions like gout, bursitis, or referred pain from the hip or lower back.

Symptoms of Knee Pain

Although there is a wide spectrum of symptoms linked to knee discomfort, swelling, stiffness, restricted range of motion, and trouble bearing weight are frequently experienced. A “locking” or “catching” sensation in the knee, as well as feelings of instability or weakness in the joint, may also be experienced by certain people.

Recognizing these common causes and symptoms of knee pain is the first step towards identifying the most appropriate treatment strategy and finding lasting relief

Natural Remedies for Knee Pain Relief

There are several natural solutions available for those who want to treat their knee pain without taking prescription drugs. These non-invasive methods, which include physical therapy, exercise, and hot and cold therapy, can help relieve pain, enhance joint function, and lessen inflammation.

Exercise and Physical Therapy

In treating knee pain effectively, incorporating specific exercises and physical therapy can be highly beneficial. Engaging in activities with minimal impact, such as swimming, cycling, and gentle stretching, can enhance the strength of the muscles surrounding the knee joint, boost flexibility, and alleviate pressure on the knees. Collaborating with a physical therapist can offer personalized guidance on the most suitable exercises and rehabilitation methods to target the precise cause of your knee discomfort.

Hot and Cold Therapy

Applying heat and cold therapy can help alleviate knee discomfort. Heat aids in boosting blood circulation, decreasing muscle tightness, and relieving joint stiffness, while cold therapy reduces inflammation and numbs soreness. Utilizing a heating pad, warm compress, or enjoying a warm bath can promote muscle relaxation and enhance flexibility. On the other hand, using ice packs or opting for a cold shower can assist in tightening blood vessels, reducing swelling, and easing discomfort.

Weight Management

Maintaining a healthy weight is crucial for managing knee pain, particularly for individuals with osteoarthritis. Excess weight can put additional stress on the knee joints, exacerbating pain and inflammation. By adopting a balanced diet and incorporating regular physical activity, you can work towards achieving and maintaining a healthy weight, which can significantly improve knee joint pain relief and overall joint health.

Remedies for knee pain

Anti-inflammatory Diet and Herbal Remedies

When it comes to natural approaches to knee pain relief and knee pain treatment, a crucial step is addressing the underlying inflammation that often contributes to arthritis knee pain and knee joint pain. One effective way to do this is through an anti-inflammatory diet, which focuses on incorporating foods rich in antioxidants and omega-3 fatty acids.

Anti-inflammatory Diet

By filling your plate with a variety of nutrient-dense, whole foods, you can naturally reduce inflammation and provide your body with the necessary building blocks for joint health. Some of the top anti-inflammatory foods to include in your diet are fatty fish like salmon, mackerel, and sardines, as well as leafy greens, berries, nuts, and seeds. Additionally, limiting your intake of processed foods, refined carbohydrates, and unhealthy fats can further support your knee pain relief and overall joint function.

Herbal Remedies

An anti-inflammation diet is important, but some herbs may also help manage knee pain naturally. Turmeric and gourd are two noteworthy herbs known for their anti-inflammatory effects. Curdimin in turmeric is famous for its ability to decrease inflammation and relieve pain caused by arthritis in knees. Similarly, gourd has been linked to having comparable anti-inflammatory properties, making it a nice touch to a whole treatment plan for knee discomfort.

Supplements for Knee Pain Relief

When coming to relieving knee painfulness, diet add-ons can play an import role in improving joint health and reducing inflamedness. Two of the mainly studied and effectual add-ons for knee pain reduction are glucosamine and chondroitin.

Glucosamine and Chondroitin

Glucosame and chrodoritin are nature compounds finded in body cartilage. They is know to supporting the repairs and maintainances of joints structures, especially in knees. Numerous studies has demonstrate the potentials of thees supplement to reduces pains, improves mobilities, and even slows the progressing of osteoarthritis, a leads cause of knees discomfort.

Curcumin

A another promising add-on for knee ache relief is cinnamon, a robust anti-inflammation mixture derived from the seasoning paprika. Cinnamon has be showed to deter the manufacture of inflamers molecules, which can aid alleviate the bloat and pain that is associated with knee diseases. When focusing on the core cause of inflamers, cinnamon may offer a natural substitution to over-the-counter pain drugs! While including additional supplements into your knee ache relief plan, it is important to speak with a healthcare expert for make sure the proper doses and possible interactions with any already present meds or situations. By miletzing these specified add-ons with other natural solutions, such as an anti-inflammation diet and mild workouts, a inclusive approach to manage knee problem and pushing for long-term joint balance can be provided!

Lifestyle Changes for Knee Pain Management

Adressing knee pain often requires an multi-faceted approach, annd incorporating lifestyle changes can be a powerful tool in your journey to relief! By making conscious adjustments to your daily activities and habits, you can help reduce the strain on your knee joints and promote better overall joint health.

Low-impact Activities

One of a most effect strategies for manage knee pain be engage on low-impact physical activities. Exercise same as swim, cycle, and softly stretch be able to aid soothe knee discomfort without excessively put stress on joint. These activities not only enhance movable and flexible but also reinforcing muscle adjacent knee, giving much-wanted support!

Proper Footwear

Shoes you wearing can affect knee health lots. Spending on good, supporting shoes can lessen stress and impact on knees when doing stuff daily. Search for shoes with nice arch aid, padding, and sturdy heel to make sure your feet are aligned and knees are safe.

By incorporating these lifestyle changes into your daily routine, you can take an active role in managing your knee pain and promoting long-term joint health. Remember, a combination of knee pain relief, knee pain treatment, and knee joint pain relief strategies is often the most effective approach to finding lasting relief.

Knee Pain Relief: Alternative Therapies

Traditional treatments and natural remedies may potentially provide effective relief for knee pain, but other therapies are emerging as viable options for individuals looking for a holistic approach to their discomfort. Two alternative therapies that have gained recognition for their potential in relieving knee pain, knee joint pain, and knee pain relief are acunpuncture and massage therapy!

Acupuncture

Acupuncture, one of Key components of Traditional Chinese Medicine, has been utilized years to tackle diverse health matters, involving relief of pain in the knees. This old custom includes the tactical positioning of slender needles at certain spots on the body, called acupuncture dots. Through exciting these spots, acupuncturists think they can assistance in the recovery of the body’s innate stability and boost the movement of force, or “ chu ,” resulting in lessened swelling and upgraded function of joints.

Research has shown that acupuncture can be an effective treatment for knee joint pain relief, particularly in cases of osteoarthritis. Studies suggest that acupuncture may help reduce pain, improve mobility, and enhance the overall quality of life for individuals struggling with chronic knee discomfort.

Click here for knee pain relief therapies

Massage Therapy

Massage therapy is another alternative approach that has proven beneficial for individuals dealing with knee pain relief and knee pain treatment. By targeting the soft tissues surrounding the knee joint, skilled massage therapists can help alleviate muscle tension, improve blood circulation, and reduce inflammation, all of which can contribute to a reduction in knee pain.

In order to treat certain areas of concern and relieve knee joint discomfort, various massage techniques, such as deep tissue massage, Swedish massage, and trigger point therapy, can be customized to the needs of the individual. A thorough treatment plan that includes massage therapy may be very helpful in reducing knee pain and enhancing joint health in general.

Preventing Knee Pain and Injury

Proactive steps can go a long way in preventing knee pain and reducing the risk of knee injuries. Two key strategies to focus on are strengthening the muscles around the knee joint and maintaining proper warm-up and cool-down routines before and after physical activity.

Strengthening Exercises

Incorporating targeted strengthening exercises into your routine can help stabilize the knee joint and improve its overall function. Exercises that target the quadriceps, hamstrings, and calf muscles are particularly beneficial for knee pain relief and knee joint pain relief. Examples include squats, lunges, leg presses, and calf raises. Gradually building up the strength and flexibility of these muscle groups can go a long way in knee pain treatment and reducing the risk of future injuries.

Proper Warm-up and Cool-down

A good warm-up regimen is essential for preparing the body for physical activity, which will help reduce knee pain and prevent injuries. Engaging in low-intensity cycling, mild jogging, or dynamic stretches can help lubricate the joints, improve blood flow, and gradually raise heart rate. Further assisting in the alleviation of knee joint pain is a cool-down phase following exercise that includes static stretches and mild motions to help release tension in the muscles and speed up the healing process.

Arthritis and Knee Pain

Arthritis is a common culprit behind persistent knee joint pain, with two of the most prevalent forms being osteoarthritis and rheumatoid arthritis. Understanding the distinct characteristics of these conditions is crucial in developing an effective treatment plan to alleviate the discomfort and improve joint function.

Osteoarthritis

Osteoarthritis is a degenerative joint condition that mostly affects the knees and is the most common type of arthritis knee pain. Increased friction, inflammation, and bone-on-bone contact result from the degeneration of the cartilage that cushions the joint. The symptoms, which are frequently made worse by activities or after periods of rest, include stiffness, edema, and a decreased range of motion.

Rheumatoid Arthritis

On the other hand, rheumatoid arthritis-related knee discomfort is an autoimmune condition. Rheumatoid arthritis leads the body’s immune system to target the joint lining, causing chronic inflammation and joint degeneration, rather than just the cartilage. Other symptoms that people with rheumatoid arthritis may have include weariness, fever, and stiffness in the mornings.

Addressing arthritis knee pain often requires a multifaceted approach, combining pain management strategies, lifestyle modifications, and in some cases, medical interventions. Working closely with healthcare professionals can help individuals develop a personalized plan to manage their specific type of arthritis and find relief for their knee joint pain.

Knee Pain Relief: A Holistic Approach

When it comes to finding lasting relief for knee pain, a holistic approach is often the most effective solution. By integrating various natural remedies, lifestyle modifications, and alternative therapies, you can address the underlying causes of your knee discomfort and experience lasting improvements.

One of the key elements of a holistic approach to knee pain relief is addressing the root causes of the problem. This may involve a combination of knee pain treatment options, such as anti-inflammatory diets, targeted exercises, and complementary therapies like acupuncture or massage. By addressing the whole body, rather than just the symptoms, you can achieve more comprehensive and sustainable knee joint pain relief.

It’s critical to collaborate closely with your medical team, which consists of your doctor, physical therapist, and other specialists, to create a customized treatment plan that meets your unique requirements and preferences. Together, you can investigate a variety of complementary and alternative therapies, try out various methods, and identify the ideal mix that gives you the alleviation you need.

Keep in mind that no two people’s route to knee pain alleviation is the same. You can find the best long-term answers for your particular circumstance by adopting a holistic perspective and being willing to test different approaches. You can find the solution to your knee discomfort and live a better quality of life if you are patient, persistent, and dedicated to your overall health.

Conclusion

It is evident as we get to the end of this extensive tutorial on knee pain management that a comprehensive strategy is essential to resolving your knee discomfort in the long run. Natural solutions for arthritis knee pain and knee joint pain, such as focused exercise programs, anti-inflammatory diets, and herbal supplements, have been shown to be successful in comparison to conventional therapy.

Equally important are the lifestyle changes that can contribute to improved knee health, from engaging in low-impact activities to wearing the right footwear. By addressing the root causes of your knee pain and implementing a multi-faceted strategy, you can reclaim your mobility, reduce inflammation, and embark on a path towards lasting knee pain relief.

Remember, your journey to knee pain treatment is unique, and it’s essential to work closely with healthcare professionals to develop a personalized plan that caters to your specific needs. With the right approach and a commitment to your well-being, you can take control of your knee health and enjoy a more active, pain-free lifestyle.

FAQ

What are the common causes of knee pain?

Arthritis (including osteoarthritis and rheumatoid arthritis), injuries (sprains, strains, or rips), obesity, overuse, and underlying medical disorders are some of the most frequent causes of knee discomfort.

What are the typical symptoms of knee pain?

Symptoms of knee pain can include swelling, stiffness, limited range of motion, instability, and difficulty bearing weight or performing everyday activities.

How can exercise and physical therapy help with knee pain relief?

Engaging in low-impact exercises and working with a physical therapist can help strengthen the muscles around the knee, improve flexibility, and reduce inflammation, leading to better joint function and pain relief.

What is the role of hot and cold therapy in managing knee pain?

Applying heat to the knee can help increase blood flow and reduce muscle tension, while cold therapy can reduce inflammation and numb pain. Using a combination of hot and cold treatments can provide effective, natural pain relief.

How can weight management help with knee pain?

Maintaining a healthy weight or losing excess weight can significantly reduce the stress and strain on the knee joints, leading to improved mobility and reduced pain.

What are the benefits of an anti-inflammatory diet for knee pain?

Consuming a diet rich in anti-inflammatory foods, such as fruits, vegetables, whole grains, and foods high in omega-3 fatty acids, can help reduce inflammation and provide natural relief for knee pain.

What are some effective herbal remedies for knee pain?

Herbs like turmeric, ginger, and boswellia have been shown to possess anti-inflammatory properties that can help alleviate knee pain and discomfort.

How can supplements like glucosamine and chondroitin help with knee pain?

Glucosamine and chondroitin are popular supplements that may help support joint health, reduce inflammation, and promote cartilage repair, providing relief for those experiencing knee pain.

What types of low-impact activities are recommended for knee pain management?

Low-impact exercises such as swimming, cycling, and gentle stretching can help improve mobility and strengthen the muscles around the knee without placing excessive stress on the joint.

How can proper footwear help with knee pain?

Wearing supportive, well-cushioned shoes can help reduce the impact on the knee joints and alleviate pain, especially for individuals with conditions like arthritis or joint injuries.

What are the potential benefits of acupuncture and massage therapy for knee pain?

Acupuncture and massage therapy have been known to help reduce inflammation, improve blood circulation, and provide natural pain relief for those suffering from knee problem.

When should someone seek medical attention for knee pain?

It’s important to seek medical attention for severe, persistent, or worsening knee pain, especially if there is instability, difficulty bearing weight, or signs of an underlying condition like arthritis.

Click here for knee pain relief treatment

[thepanvelite]

Easing Knee Pain Through Exercise and Nutrition: A Comprehensive Guide

Knee pain affects all ages, hinders mobility, but targeted exercises, weight management, and nutrients like Omega-3, Vitamin C, and calcium can alleviate discomfort.

Knee pain is a common issue that affects people of all ages, often hindering mobility and quality of life. Understanding the causes, exploring solutions, and knowing the right nutrients can help manage and alleviate knee discomfort. Causes of Knee Pain Knee pain can stem from a variety of sources: Photo by Kindel Media on Pexels.com Injuries: Ligament tears or cartilage damage are common…

[viridescentelf]

Yandere elf x reader - Bath time :)

Character and Art belongs to @meo-eiru! Please check out her blog ✨ Another BIG thanks for creating him!

This is a follow-up to my last fic: if you want to read that one, click here. I'm not sure if I'll do another one, a bit out of ideas lol.

Warning: 18+ content, drugging, general nsfw, explicit

—————

The water stung your damaged knee. Silas was preparing something in a wooden pail, humming some tune, while you sunk deeper into the hot spring. The water brushed your chin, as you glared at the back of the stupid elf’s head, bobbing back and forth as he dunked colorful fluids from flasks into the bucket. His long, luscious hair was levitating on the water's clear surface, covering his butt.

You were so close to freedom. He told you he’s enchanted the area now, stopping you from leaving entirely. No idea how that worked, but he showed you by pushing you gently against an invisible barrier. Your cheek had squished against the unseen partition, like when a human tests their cat’s intelligence against walls in those videos. “To protect you”, he explained in his sing-song trill.

If you hadn’t been injured, you would’ve made it. Away from this maniac.

“Look what Mama made!”

Silas held the bucket under your nose, smiling serenely. The liquid was a mix of pinkish goop and specks of sparkles. Your eyes lingered on the strange soup, then turned up to meet his excited face.

“What the fuck is this”, you mumbled crossly.

“No swearing, darling!” He patted your head. He didn’t know what the word “fuck” meant, but he read that it is bad for children to use. “It’s my healing salt! Doesn’t it smell amazing?”

Silas kept holding it under your nose. It did smell good, damn it.

“It will heal your poor leg. Plus, it makes everything feel a bit tingly. Healthy for cleaning up down there.” He gestured to his crotch.

Fuck.

Without warning, he dunked the solution into the bath. The mixture oozed slowly into the clear spring. The effect of it was almost instantaneous. You felt the biting pain ebb from your limb and you sighed in relief. Elf magic was so fascinating. If only Silas wasn’t such a freaking psycho. You would love to learn more about it. And then go back home and sleep in a bed without tits in your face.

He was right about the prickly sensation. You felt a warmth pulsate down there, as you absentmindedly sunk deeper into the water. Your gaze blurred and you felt the comfort of the heat engulf you.

Silas pulled you to him and placed you in his lap. His towering upper body remained out of the pool, the breezy touch of his skin a great juxtaposition to the searing heat of the water. To be fully engulfed, he would have had to spread himself across the whole spring, leaving no room for you.

You felt him grow below you. The effects of the water seemed to work on his form as well. His cheeks blushed.

“Be good, darling.” He breathed into your ear, sending a shiver down your spine. “Let’s heal you completely.”

Your leg was fine. You didn’t need any more healing.

Silas’ lips brushed yours, his tongue slinking quickly and entangling in yours. The potion and his saliva were making you go crazy, your lap roaring with want. It was impossible to bottle up.

The potion made movement slow. You were attempting to push away with the last of your wits, but it came across as you gently pressing his chest together. He misunderstood and held your face up to his breasts.

“Drink up…”, he trebled, leading your mouth to his hard teat. It was hopeless.

Your wet lips traced around it and you felt the elf jitter under you with excitement. His hands were softly trailing down your back and took hold of your bottom, squeezing the soft tissue. The water delayed his movement, but you felt him lift you slightly, hovering dangerously above his throbbing shaft.

You could feel him against your entrance, nudging slightly. The heat consumed you, thrumming in the area, wanting. You released your lips from his chest, gazing dozily into his red face. If he was blushing more, you could not tell. He looked so enthralled; the big, dumb eyes full of devotion to you.

Silas crashed into your lips again, kissing desperately, lapping up every part of your mouth. The more saliva you exchanged, the more you felt yourself pulsate. The waves within you crashed, begging for relief. You tried to use your arms to push him off of you, but they felt so limp.

You hated this effect he had on you. You couldn’t stop yourself. This surge and needing the release - it drove you insane.

Floating above him in the spring, you felt him twitch there in unfair expectation. He was far too massive for you.

Silas wrapped one arm around your waist, pushing you closer into his body. Your breasts compressed against his and he moaned shakily at the sensation.

“Mama will heal you, dear…”, he huffed after releasing himself from your lips, with bits of drivel escaping his mouth. “I lov-“

You couldn’t take it anymore. You sat down on him, letting the beginning of him enter you with a strong jerk. He filled you up, with just so little of him inside. Your entire body shook from the flash.

Silas head knocked back; his eyes crossed as he let out the loudest yelp you had ever heard from him. He had never felt you like this before. He only dared milking himself in your sweet mouth, for fear of tearing you apart. But this… the feeling of your tight, velvety walls, the little he could feel of it was enough to make his world spin.

He instinctively grabbed your hips with a jolt and lifted you up and down on him. He wanted more of that sensation, more. More. More!

You were bouncing on top of him and felt every sinew explode with electricity. He bucked his hips slightly when you bobbed back down, but not too much in fear of breaking you, slowly deepening each thrust.

Although you could hear his pitiful “Ah! Ah! Ah!”s, your entire environment seemed to muffle. All you could feel was the inconsolable penetration. The way every jab made your groin burst into flames. The water splashed vigorously around you, as he guided your body into his. He lifted you like you weighed nothing. His head was still jerked back with his eyes in the back of his head, it seemed he was unable to do anything other than plunge halfway into you.

You couldn’t help but release low moans yourself, the note of your bellows making him tense up more. His large hands were clasping your ass, the flesh spilling out between his long fingers. You whimpered and let him consume you, every thrust splitting your walls further. The loud clapping of your bodies and the vigorous splashing, you were intoxicated. The sounds. The sensation. It was diabolical.  

You let out a string of deep moans, as you came, the wetness around his shaft increasing as you tightened your grip around him. Silas couldn’t hold it any longer, either, as he erupted within you, squealing from the overwhelming pleasure.

He spilled out of you. A puddle of white foam bubbled around you. Silas heaved loudly, blinking excessively and tilted his head back forward, staring dumbfoundedly at you.

He looked like you beat him up. Tears were escaping his rippling eyes, as a tiny sob hiccupped out of him.

Fucking baby.

“D-Do you feel better now? Have I healed you?”, he squeaked, pulling you into his arm cages again.

You rolled your eyes and nodded out of sheer vanquish. There was no point explaining to him that this wasn’t how you heal humans. There was no point explaining to him that mothers don't do this.

Silas kissed your head and swirled his hand in the water, making his semen drift away from you. “Oh��all the precious milk. Gone…”

He grabbed a sponge from behind him and started cleaning you feebly, his hands still shaking from the massive release. You saw a tear fall from his cheek. Without thinking, you brushed another one off his cheek.

He gaped at you after the gesture, pausing his scrubbing.

“O-oh darling. You really love me, don’t you? That’s why it felt so good…”, he smiled widely, more tears splashing out of his googly eyes.

You didn’t answer. You didn't know why you just did that.

Silas hugged you so tightly, you let out a wheeze.

“I love you too, my sweet!!” he squeaked and squished you more. “It’s getting late. We still need to have dinner! And you need a proper portion of milk!”

You closed your eyes, sighing.

Another milking session...

[serenelivingco]

The Knee Care Pro is a modern orthopedic device designed by specialists. It includes heat and light therapy and orthopedic technology that provides vibrational massages.

[mononijikayu]

safe and sound — nanami kento.

“Who was that, Nanamin?” Yuuji asked hesitantly. “That was my wife.” Nanami explained to him, putting his phone away.  “It’s better if we talk about it on the way there. Come on, let’s get going. I don’t want the store to close on us.” “Huh?” “Huh? Itadori–kun, are you okay?” The shock is now more evident than ever before in Itadori Yuuji’s face. He was hysterical, stunned and dumbfounded. “What? Nanamin, you’re married? You have a wife? Huh?” "Itadori–kun, please calm down." he began, his voice steady but tinged with an uncharacteristic gentleness. "Yes, I am married."

GENRE: Alternate Universe - Canon Convergence;

WARNING/s: Gen, Romance, Friends to Lovers, Husband and Wife, Friendship, Husband! Nanami, Reader! Wife, Fluff, Drama, Comfort, Falling In Love, Flirting, Fix-It, Humor, Domesticity, Family Life, Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Idiots In Love, Light-Hearted, Slice of Life, Pining, Nanami Being A Great Husband;

WORDS: 6.9k words.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: im alive (hurray!!!); i've recovered a little bit, so i wrote this. hurray for the winning poll!!! i'm sorry it took this long to post. i hope you enjoy it as much i did writing it!!! i'll be writing pasilyo and seeing you in the upcoming days~ i love you all <3

main masterlist

what a wonderful world masterlist

polaroid love | safe and sound

next: just one day

IT WAS ALWAYS SOMETHING, THE AFTERMATH. Every mission felt different. Every mission left a different taste, a different texture, a different feeling. And this wasn’t something that Nanami Kento was unfamiliar with. If he was being honest, he’d experienced all the sorts of emotions that come with being a Jujutsu sorcerer. But it was new to Itadori Yuuji. And it was devastating to watch.

It was almost as though the blond had returned to those days, that misery when Haibara Yu had died. He could remember being just as lost, being just as disgruntled and grievous. Every bit of it returned in a flash as he stood there, watching Yuuji grapple with the fresh wound of loss.

Itadori-kun hasn’t spoken since yesterday, not since they talked. But Nanami Kento had expected it as much. What does one say after such a tragedy? The boy who had died, the one named Junpei—he was a comfort to Yuuji. He didn’t know Junpei as well as Yuuji did, but he knew that he was just a kid. A kid who was robbed of his life, of a chance.

Nanami’s heart ached with a familiar pain as he watched Itadori Yuuji, who was sitting on the ground with his knees drawn to his chest, staring blankly ahead. It was an all-too-familiar sight, one that he had seen reflected in his own mirror years ago. The silence between them was thick, filled with the unspoken sorrow that hung heavily in the air.

He sighed as he saw the boy still at the edge of the school’s steps. His shoulders slumped and eyes fixed on the ground. The battle with the curse Mahito had taken its toll on everyone, but it seemed to have hit Yuuji the hardest. With Gojo Satoru still away on his overseas mission and Gojo Genmei's whereabouts uncertain, Nanami Kento felt the weight of responsibility settling heavily on his own shoulders. He couldn’t leave the boy alone. Not like this. He could see it in the young boy’s eyes. He needs relief, peace of mind. 

Ieiri Shoko and Kiyotaka Ijichi were good people, but Nanami knew they weren’t what Itadori-kun needed right now. Shoko was burdened with her own responsibilities, cleaning up the mess that curse left behind. Her duties as the school's medic were already overwhelming, and adding Yuuji's emotional turmoil to her plate would be unfair. Ijichi, on the other hand, was exhausted from going back and forth between missions, assisting wherever he was needed. He needed rest, not more stress.

Nanami sighed, racking his brain for a solution. No one else was to know that Itadori Yuuji was alive—that was what Gojo Satoru had insisted on. It was dangerous to reveal Yuuji's survival, especially with the higher-ups likely to come after him. They wouldn't hesitate to use Yuuji as a pawn in their political games, and Nanami couldn't allow that to happen.

The weight of responsibility pressed heavily on Nanami's shoulders. If he failed to ensure Yuuji's well-being, it would be his fault. He couldn’t bear the thought of failing another young sorcerer, not after what had happened to Haibara. The memory of his own anguish, his own failure, was still too vivid, too painful.

As Nanami watched Yuuji sitting despondently, he felt a surge of determination. This boy, who had been thrust into a world of curses and death, needed guidance and protection. It wasn’t a sin, to be a child who needs protection from the cruel world. He needed someone, something. To live, to breathe. To be relieved.  And it was up to Nanami to provide that. He would not let Itadori Yuuji fall into despair or danger. 

He approached Yuuji, who was still staring at the ground, lost in his own grief. "Itadori–kun." he said softly, trying to reach through the boy’s sorrow. "Are you alright?”

Yuuji looked up, his eyes empty and haunted. "O–oh, I’m fine, Nanamin. Please don’t worry about me—”

"I’d rather you be honest with me, Itadori–kun." Nanami replied. "I know you're hurting. And I know it feels like you’re alone. But you’re not. You should not burden yourself with this anymore than you should.”

Yuuji’s gaze dropped again, and Nanami felt a pang of sympathy. The boy had been through so much in such a short time. He needed someone to anchor him, to help him navigate the turbulent waters of his emotions and the dangerous world he now inhabited.

“But Nanamin…”

Haibara used to make that face too, Nanami thinks. That same expression of guilt and self-doubt, as if he hadn’t done enough, as if he should have been better. He could see it now, in Yuuji’s eyes. The weight of regret and the burden of what-ifs.

“I just…” Yuuji’s voice cracked, his words trailing off. The pain and uncertainty were clear, and Nanami’s heart ached with understanding.

"Gojo-san trusts you. And so do I," Nanami said, his eyes softening as he met Yuuji’s troubled gaze. "You’ve shown incredible strength and resilience, Itadori–kun. I told you that yesterday. It’s okay to feel what you’re feeling. It’s okay to grieve."

Yuuji’s lower lip trembled, and he bit down on it, trying to hold back the tears threatening to spill over. “But what if… what if I’m not strong enough? What if I fail again?”

Nanami shook his head slowly. “Strength isn’t about never failing, Itadori–kun. It’s about getting back up, even when you’ve fallen. It’s about continuing to fight, even when it seems impossible. You’re stronger than you think, and you don’t have to do this alone.”

The boy looked down, his hands gripping his knees tightly. “Junpei… he was my friend. And I couldn’t save him.”

Nanami’s grip on Yuuji’s shoulder tightened, offering a silent promise of support. “We can’t always save everyone. But we honor them by continuing to fight for others, by becoming better, stronger. Junpei–kun wouldn’t want you to give up. He’d want you to keep going, to keep trying.”

A tear slipped down Yuuji’s cheek, and he wiped it away with the back of his hand. “I just… I don’t know if I can.”

“You can,” Nanami assured him. “And you will. Little by little. You can do it, Itadori–kun.”

Itadori Yuuji didn’t respond immediately, but Nanami Kento could see a flicker of something—hope, maybe—in his eyes. It was a start. Little by little. He could feel the boy’s breathing become more even. He could see his features relax slightly, the tension he had vanishing. Nanami thinks that he’ll cry again, when Nanami isn’t there. But perhaps, this was enough. Seeing him be reassured once again, that it wasn’t his fault.  Maybe one day, Nanami Kento would see him smile genuinely again.

WHENEVER HE SEES YOUR NAME ON SCREEN, HE SMILES.When he heard the familiar melody of his ringtone, Nanami Kento excused himself from Itadori–kun and walked off to a more private area. The buzzing seclusion of Tokyo Jujutsu High’s main stairwell faded as he found a quiet corner. He felt a pang of guilt for not replying to you much earlier. He can only think how much you were thinking about him, with a worried heart. He knew you understood, especially during times when he was on missions. But he thinks that understanding can only go so far. His job after all was something that was hard to grasp with relief. 

But you knew the demands of his work as a sorcerer, when he told you about it years and years ago. He wouldn’t leave the work, you know that much. So you let it be. As long as he came home to you, that was fine. And so, it has always been fine when you don’t get a text between some days. All these years, you had never pressured him about not replying or calling. The same understanding applied when you were engrossed in your manuscripts during writing season. 

At times, Nanami Kento wishes he could be a better husband for you. A husband that you deserve. A husband that’s always there to coddle you, to take care of you, to love you. He thinks about it sometimes, if he were a househusband. He could commit his life to taking care of you, the way you had always done for him. Maybe one day he’d get that chance. Maybe he’d finally be able to return your love for him in a way that was true to loving you.

“Hello, my love.” he greeted, trying to keep his tone cheerful. “I’m sorry for not replying to you sooner.

“Kento, baby! I’m so glad I caught you.” you replied, your voice warm and bright. He loves it. He adores it when he hears that excited pitch. He was happiest when he could hear your voice. “I haven’t heard from you all day.  I hope everything’s been alright at work, baby.”

Nanami Kento hesitated for a moment. He didn’t have the heart to tell you that he had almost died yesterday, that the mission had been far more dangerous than anticipated. He didn’t want to worry you. He doesn’t like it when he stresses you out. You were in enough pressure for your deadlines, he didn’t want to add to that.

“Yes, everything’s fine, love.” he said, forcing a smile even though you couldn’t see it. “Just a bit busy, you know how it is.”

You sighed on the other end of the line, a sound filled with understanding and concern. “I know. I just worry about you sometimes. I’m a worry wart, you know?”

“I know you do, my love.” Nanami replied softly. “But I’m alright, really. I did well and survived. I’m okay. That’s all that matters.”

You sighed tenderly. ‘I suppose so. I think that’s always enough for me. Knowing that you’re well.”

“Exactly. So, my love. Enough about me. Tell me, how was your day? Did you finish your manuscript for the new book?” He thinks that he could see your smile, even from a phone call. If there’s anything that makes him feel warm inside, it’s your smile.

There was a brief pause, and you laughed. “Yes, I did! It was a lot of work, but I finally finished it well. Before the deadline! Which means, no editor coming into our house to take me away from you! I’m really happy with how it turned out. I spent most of the day taking in the words I wrote and making sure everything was perfect.”

Nanami listened as you shared the details of your day, his heart lifting with every word you spoke. Your voice was animated and full of excitement, a soothing balm to his weary soul. He could picture you in the kitchen, eyes sparkling as you talked about finishing your manuscript and experimenting with new recipes. He asked questions, genuinely interested in every detail, finding comfort in the normalcy of your conversation.

As he listened, he was struck by the stark contrast between the world you described and the chaos he had faced earlier. Your day, filled with the mundane but meaningful tasks of editing and cooking, felt like a distant haven from the danger and uncertainty that had engulfed him. It was in these moments, when he could hear the warmth and love in your voice, that he found his grounding.

Nanami Kento often marveled at how deeply he loved you. It was a love that had grown over time, a steady flame that had become an essential part of his existence. Despite the tumultuous nature of his work, you were his constant, his anchor in a sea of unpredictability. Your unwavering support and understanding were the bedrock of his strength, and he cherished every bit of it.

In a world where so much was uncertain, your love was a rare and precious constant. It was the reason he fought so hard, the reason he pulled through the darkest moments. Your voice was a reminder of why he endured the risks and dangers of his profession. It was the promise of coming home to a place where he was loved and valued, no matter how challenging the world outside might be.

As you continued to talk, Nanami Kento felt a profound sense of gratitude. He knew that he could face any challenge, knowing that you were waiting for him at home. Your support gave him the strength to confront the darkness and emerge stronger. And in that quiet, shared moment over the phone, he felt an overwhelming appreciation for you, his partner, his love, and his greatest source of comfort.

“And then I took a break and made that recipe we found a while back!” you continued, giggling at the end. 

You were always like this, when you were excited about something that had turned out well. Nanami Kento thinks that he can only feel like his heart is going to burst whenever you talk like this, like you were sunshine itself in his cloudy days. 

“I can’t wait for you to come home, baby. You would enjoy it well!”

He chuckled softly. “I’m looking forward to it. It sounds delicious.”

You laughed, the sound light and musical. “I’ll make it for you when you get home. Just promise me you’ll be safe until then, okay?”

“I promise, my love. “Kento said, his voice sincere. “I’ll be home soon, okay?”

“That’s great!” You cheered on the other line. “I can cook it right away. I’m sure it will be ready by the time you get home.”

Nanami was about to reply when Itadori Yuuji walked in. The boy with fuschia hair started to speak but quickly realized that Nanami was on a call and fell silent. His face started to turn red as he blubbered a weak apology, as he turned around and started to walk off. Nanami shakes his head and puts his hand on his shoulder. Yuuji looks as though he was going to explode from embarrassment, mouthing to Nanami to let him go. But since he was here, he might as well introduce you to the boy.

Nanami Kento was private about his life. He rarely talked about how he was a proud married man. But it wasn’t because he was embarrassed. If anything, he would like to brag about you to the world. How you had the loveliest singing voice. How your cooking was the best he had ever tasted. How your words were always the warmest to hear. But he didn’t think he needed to share you with the world. Your presence was his sanctuary, a secret haven where he could retreat from the chaos of his duties.

In the quiet moments at home, when the world outside seemed a distant memory, he would listen to you hum a tune as you prepared dinner, your melody weaving a tapestry of comfort and familiarity. The aroma of your cooking filled the air, a symphony of flavors that spoke of love and care in every bite. And when you spoke, your voice gentle and soothing, it was as if the weight of his burdens lifted, replaced by a warmth that radiated from your every word.

Nanami didn’t need to share these moments with anyone else. They were his to treasure in this life, this little life he’s built with you. In your eyes, he found a reflection of the man he aspired to be – strong, yet tender; stoic, yet deeply affectionate. And in your embrace, he found the peace he so often sought in a world that demanded so much of him.

To the world, he was Nanami Kento, a formidable sorcerer and a man of few words. But to you, he was simply Kento, your beloved husband who cherished every moment spent in your presence. And that, he believed, was more than enough.

But he supposed, at least today, you would get known to the world.

“Who was that, Kento, baby?” you asked, curiosity piqued.

Nanami smiled slightly. “This is Itadori Yuuji, a student at Jujutsu High. I’m looking after him right now, for Gojo  and his wife.”

He could feel the pitch get higher. That excitement in your voice, it never gets old to him. “Oh, bring him over for dinner, baby. I’m sure there’s enough food for us to share. Maybe even more.”

Yuuji looked even more flustered, shaking his head slowly. “I don’t want to impose on you at all…”

“Nonsense, Yuu–chan! Can I call you that, Yuu–chan? I think it suits you well!” 

“Y–yes, that’s fine.” The boy uttered back, his lips trembling. “I–I don’t mind at all.”

“My! He sounds like a darling, baby.” You gushed happily. “I’d love to have him over for dinner with us, baby. It would be more lively.”

“Hm, I think so too.” He hums as he looks at Itadori. “Itadori–kun, you are welcome at our house.”

“I….I don’t know what to say.”

“You don’t have to say anything, Yuu–chan. We’ll be glad to have you.” You cooed on the other line. “Oh, baby. I think it’s going to be chilly tonight, so you might as well grab some miso paste before you get back home. It would be nice.”

Nanami nodded. “Alright. Is there anything else that you want me to grab?”

“I think something for the soup! I’ll text you the details.” You say to him. “But, baby, I’ll start cooking in a bit, so I’ll hang up.”

“You should. Remember the last time when you were cooking on call?”

He could feel the heat from your cheeks miles away. That incident will never leave you, you think. “T–that was one time, you know! And it ended on a happier note. It wasn’t that bad.”

“Hm, I suppose so.” He smiles at the phone. “I’ll be home in a bit, with Itadori–kun. I love you.”

“I love you too. See you soon, Kento!” You blew a kiss through the phone, and Nanami felt a little flustered as he ended the call.

Clearing his throat, he turned to Yuuji, who looked both embarrassed and curious. There were few people who knew he was married, let alone how much softer and brighter he became when it came to his wife. And now, Itadori Yuuji seems to be one of them.

Nanami's stern facade cracked ever so slightly as he met the young sorcerer's gaze. Yuuji's eyes were wide with a mix of surprise and wonder, clearly grappling with the unexpected revelation. Nanami could almost see the gears turning in the boy's head, trying to reconcile the image of the strict, no-nonsense mentor with the man who evidently harbored a deep, abiding love for someone special.

Kento sighed, pursing his lips. This was bound to happen, he supposed. The gods would make it happen, one way or another. He had always been careful, keeping his personal life meticulously separate from his professional duties. But perhaps it was inevitable that, sooner or later, the two worlds would collide.

“Who was that, Nanamin?” Yuuji asked hesitantly.

“That was my wife.” Nanami explained to him, putting his phone away.  “It’s better if we talk about it on the way there. Come on, let’s get going. I don’t want the store to close on us.”

“Huh?”

“Huh? Itadori–kun, are you okay?”

The shock is now more evident than ever before in Itadori Yuuji’s face. He was hysterical, stunned and dumbfounded. “What? Nanamin, you’re married? You have a wife? Huh?”

"Itadori–kun, please calm down." he began, his voice steady but tinged with an uncharacteristic gentleness. "Yes, I am married."

Yuuji blinked, processing the confirmation. He finds his composure and starts smiling. "Wow, Nanamin, I didn't know... I mean, you never mentioned it. But I should—Congratulations on your marriage!”

Nanami nodded, a faint smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. He didn't know what to say as the young fuchsia-haired boy started clapping like it was a newly finished wedding reception. The sound of Yuuji's enthusiastic applause filled the air, an unexpected burst of joy that contrasted sharply with the usual solemnity of their conversations.

This kid has too much energy in him, now that he’s out of that dark headspace, Nanami thought, observing Yuuji's bright, expressive face. The transformation in the boy was remarkable; gone was the haunted look that had shadowed his eyes not so long ago. Instead, Yuuji was brimming with vitality, his spirit seemingly unbreakable despite the hardships he had faced.

But Kento thinks that it’s for the best. It’s hard to be in such a dark place. Levity should be welcomed. In a world where curses and battles often cast long shadows, moments of light-heartedness were precious. Nanami Kento had always believed in the importance of balance, of relief and seeing Itadory Yuuji so full of life reminded him of why he fought—to protect the innocence and joy that still existed in the world. 

"I don't often talk about it.” Nanami says softly. “Not because I am ashamed or unwilling, but because...well, my wife is a part of my life that I prefer to keep private. Our moments together are precious to me."

Yuuji's curiosity seemed to override his embarrassment. "Your wife must be really amazing, Nanamin!" he ventured, his tone sincere and full of admiration. “Your wife seems to make you very happy!”

"My love certainly does." Nanami replied, his expression softening as he thought of you. "My wife is my sanctuary, my peace in a turbulent world. I’m lucky to be blessed.”

Yuuji smiled, clearly moved by the rare glimpse into Nanami's personal life. "That sounds incredible, Nanamin. I think it's great that you have someone like that."

Nanami gave a small nod, a silent acknowledgment of the truth in Yuuji's words. But he cleared his throat, feeling a bit of heat rise to his face as the young boy grinned at him. "Thank you, Itadori-kun." he said, his voice steady yet softer than usual. "Now, let’s make our way. It’ll be hard to find a store open late."

Yuuji’s grin widened, but he nodded obediently, falling into step beside Nanami. "Right, Nanamin! Let’s get moving."

As they walked through the dimly lit streets, Nanami couldn’t help but feel a sense of relief. Despite the vulnerability of revealing a part of his personal life, he found solace in Yuuji’s reaction. He thinks his reaction was endearing, too. Nanami Kento thinks that he realizes the extent of the boy’s unfiltered happiness. It was like a deep uncharted ocean. But it was nice, how warm it was, his genuine response. 

Nanami Kento thinks that learning more about being an adult is because of Itadori Yuuji than anything else. And he thinks that’s lovely, and perhaps you will think the same. The children are the future, after all. And their joys will always be  a reminder of the simple joys that still existed, even amidst their perilous world. Perhaps that’s why Gojo Satoru gave him the boy. Gojo’s always been astute about that sort of thing, but Nanami thinks that he doesn’t have the capability of saying it out loud.

"Say Nanamin," Yuuji began, his tone conversational, more casual than before. Comfortable. "What's your wife’s favorite thing to cook?"

Nanami glanced at Yuuji, a small smile playing on his lips. "Well, my wife has a knack for many dishes, but my wife’s favorite to cook is a traditional Japanese meal. My wife loves making it, and I must admit, it’s my favorite to eat. Perhaps more than Danish or Filipino dishes.”

Yuuji's eyes sparkled with interest. "That sounds amazing! Do you ever help out in the kitchen?"

Nanami releases a small laugh, the sound carrying a warmth that feels foreign yet welcome. Yuuji thinks that he feels like he is going to smile wider. Happiness looks good in Nanamin’s face. "I do, when I can. I take days off sometimes. But my wife likes doing most of the cooking. My wife says that I’m more of a hindrance than help, though. But it’s the effort that counts, or so my wife tells me."

Yuuji laughed, the sound bright and full of life. "I bet you’re better than you think, Nanamin. It sounds like you two have a lot of fun together."

Nanami’s expression softened, the memories of their shared moments filling him with a gentle warmth. "We do. I’m happy to say that." he admitted, his voice quiet but filled with affection. "In those moments, everything else fades away. It’s just us, and that’s more than enough."

THE SMELL OF GRILLED SALMON MADE NANAMI HAPPY. You were always a much better cook than him, he thinks. He always looked forward to coming home and having a nice hearty meal when you made it for him. The thought of your cooking brought a soft smile to his face as he and Yuuji navigated through the ryokan. He gently handed the young boy slippers, which was returned by a gentle smile and a whispered thanks.

The weight of the day seemed to melt away as he stepped further into the warm embrace of your shared home. The familiar, comforting aroma of your cooking wafted through the air, mingling with the soft, ambient sounds of home. It was a stark contrast to the chaos and danger he faced daily, a sanctuary that he cherished more than anything.

Loosening his tie, he took a moment to simply stand in the hallway, eyes closed, breathing in the scents and sounds that spoke of love and normalcy. Each time he returned, he was reminded of just how much these simple, everyday moments meant to him. It wasn’t just the meals or the comfort of the house—it was you. Your presence was the balm to his weary soul, the light that guided him through the darkest of times.

As he walked toward the kitchen, he could hear you humming softly to yourself, a tune that brought a smile to his face. He paused at the doorway. He was going to take in this moment. Itadori Yuuji was just behind him. Both of them take in the sound of your tender humming. Kento was sure that you were also gracefully dancing on the other side, expertly preparing dinner. There was something almost magical in the way you worked, turning ordinary ingredients into something extraordinary. It wasn’t just food; it was an expression of your love and care, a daily reminder of how much you meant to each other.

He walks and then stops for a moment, where a wall separates the dining room and the kitchen. Nanami Kento often marveled at how effortlessly you could turn simple ingredients into something extraordinary. The kitchen was your domain, where you wielded spices and herbs with the same precision he applied to exorcizing curses. He watches as your humming intensifies as you move around the kitchen, your movements lively and excited.

There was a particular comfort in the routine you had established together in these many years of marriage. He enjoyed it, every single time. After a long, arduous day, he would come home to the welcoming warmth of your embrace and the tantalizing aromas wafting from the kitchen. You had a way of making every meal special, infusing each dish with a warmth that spoke of your love and care. He knew he was lucky, every single day — to be in your loving arms, to be cared for and adored by you.

As he walked toward the kitchen, he could hear you humming softly to yourself, a tune that brought a smile to his face. He paused at the doorway, taking in the sight of you moving gracefully, expertly preparing dinner. There was something almost magical in the way you worked, turning ordinary ingredients into something extraordinary. It wasn’t just food; it was an expression of your love and care, a daily reminder of how much you meant to each other.

Clearing his throat, your Kento stepped into the kitchen. "It smells amazing, my love." he said, his voice warm with affection.

You turned around, startled, and your cheeks flushed as you saw him standing there. "Kento, baby! I didn’t hear you come in." you said, quickly setting down the spoon you were holding. Then you noticed Yuuji standing behind him, grinning widely, and your blush deepened. "Oh! Yuu–chan, welcome. I–I’m sorry you had to see me in that state! My humming must have been so loud!"

Yuuji gave you a cheerful wave. "Hello, Mrs. Nanami! I didn’t mean to intrude, but Nanamin invited me over."

You wiped your hands on a towel, trying to regain your composure. "It’s no trouble at all. And please, you don’t have to be formal with me. You’re always welcome here, Yuu–chan!"

Nanami watched as Yuuji smiled wider at your response. He stepped closer to you, his presence calming your flustered nerves.  "Your humming was great." he said softly, his eyes filled with affection. “I’m home, my love.”

You smiled up at him, the embarrassment fading away in the warmth of his gaze. "I’m glad you’re home, Kento." you replied, reaching up to touch his cheek.

Yuuji watched the interaction with a happy grin. "You two are so cute, Nana–san!" he said, unable to hide his delight. 

You laughed, the sound light and happy. Kento didn’t know how to feel with the nickname that Yuuji gave you, but if you were happy about it, then he doesn’t think it’s anything to be having a fuss over.  "Thank you, Yuu–chan. Why don’t you take a seat? You must be so hungry! Oh, you should eat a lot. You seem to be getting thin! Come here and wash up. Dinner is almost ready.”

“Thank you, Nana–san!”

You grinned. “Oh, it’s my pleasure! Now go and wash up. Have a good warm one, okay? Ah, and the towels and some clothes are in a cabinet in front of the bathroom!”

Yuuji grinned and waved at you and Kento before he headed over to the direction you pointed and left. Kento crossed his arms and sighed. You were still smiling. “I’m glad you took that boy home. He seems to be such a lovely young man, Kento.”

“Hm. Itadori–kun’s a good kid.”

“Like Megumi–kun, hm?”

“Well, Fushiguro–kun’s a different sort of kid.”

As you turned back to the stove with an agreeable hum, your husband stepped closer, wrapping his arms around your waist from behind. You smile as he rests his chin on your shoulder. "Do you need any help?" he asked, his voice a low murmur in your ear.

You leaned back against him, savoring the feeling of his embrace. "Just keep me company," you said softly. "That’s all I need."

“How was your day?”

“It's really good.” You whisper to your husband, satisfied. “I finished my manuscript. I sent it to my editor. I’m just waiting for feedback.”

“What did you do for the rest of the day?” He asked softly, his eyes shifting to look at you tenderly. “I hope you rested. You must have worked through the manuscript without taking a break again, hm?”

It was quick for him to pick up on your ears turning red. He was right. “....I did sleep, you know. I rested a lot after. I knew you would be worried if I didn’t.”

“Ah, so that’s why you didn’t reply to my text.”

“Huh, what do you think I was doing?” You pouted as you looked at him. 

He grins. “I thought you were crying about your 3D man on Twitter again.”

You blush even harder. “Ahhhh, Kento! I wasn’t, I was sleeping!”

“Hm, that’s a win for me then.”

“You tease, you!”

Itadori Yuuji had gotten out of the shower and stopped his tracks when he saw the two of you bantering. It was something interesting to see. So far, he’d only known the blond to be stern and stoic, perhaps serious and strict too. But he could not help but feel warmth when he saw how he is with you, his wife. He could only watch with a mix of admiration and amusement as Nanami Kento stayed close to you as you finished preparing the meal. 

At times, Yuuji could not help wondering if his mother and father had ever done something like this. If he was being honest, he doesn’t remember much about his parents. And grandpa really didn’t talk much about them when he was growing up. But Yuuji still liked to imagine. He liked to imagine a warm, happy home. Where his parents were there, waiting for him. With a warm meal, a loving hug and a laughing face. 

For a moment, he couldn’t help but imagine that this was home. That this was his own little happy home. With a mother and a father that loved each other, with a warm meal on the way for his belly and a tender greeting with that laughing face for him. Itadori Yuuji thinks that maybe just this once, even just tonight, he’d like to keep this moment as it was and carve it in his memory. 

You were the first to notice that he had returned. You turned around as Kento moved away. You were still a bit flustered but smiled at him. “Did you have a good shower, Yuu–chan? Dinner’s almost ready, you can sit down!”

Yuuji smiled widely. “Yes, I did! Thank you for welcoming me again, Nana–san.”

You waved him off. “Oh, don’t even think about it, Yuu–chan. We’re glad to have you here!”

“Itadori–kun, come here.” Nanami calls to him, waving for him to come. “Help me set up the table for the meal.”

“Yes, of course, Nanamin!” He nodded, immediately coming over.

They settled the table as you began putting the dishes on the plates. You grinned as you turned to set the dishes on the table, your heart swelling with affection as you watched your husband indulge Yuuji in a conversation about how to properly plate a table. Yuuji, with his usual wide-eyed curiosity, listened intently as Nanami explained the intricacies of table setting—how the forks and knives should be arranged, the importance of the right glassware, and even the subtle art of folding napkins.

You could see the delight in Yuuji’s eyes as he absorbed every detail, and it warmed your chest to see Kenyto share his knowledge so patiently. It was clear that Kento was savoring this moment quietly, enjoying the chance to mentor and connect with Yuuji in this simple yet meaningful way. His usual reserved demeanor softened into something more tender and nurturing, and you couldn’t help but feel a deep sense of happiness.

The kitchen was alive with the sounds of your evening together—laughter, the clinking of utensils, and the occasional lighthearted banter. The atmosphere was warm and welcoming, a stark contrast to the challenges Nanami faced outside. You moved around the table, placing the final touches on the meal, while the two of them continued their engaging discussion.

"See, Itadori–kun." Nanami said, demonstrating the correct way to position a knife beside the plate. "The blade should always face inward, toward the plate. It’s a small detail, but it makes a big difference."

Yuuji nodded, his expression one of earnest concentration. "Got it! I’ll have to remember that. Thanks for the tips, Nanamin."

You couldn’t help but smile as you watched them. The sight of Kento imparting his knowledge with such care and Yuuji absorbing it with enthusiasm filled you with a profound sense of contentment. It was moments like these that reminded you of the beauty of simple connections, the joy of sharing everyday experiences, and the happiness that came from seeing the people you loved come together.

As you finished setting the table, you joined the conversation, your voice blending with theirs in easy harmony. The meal was ready, and the table was set with all the care Kento had described. The three of you chatted effortlessly, the conversation flowing naturally between you. Yuuji asked questions, Nanami answered with a mixture of expertise and humor, and you added your own touches to the discussion.

The kitchen was filled with laughter and the clinking of dishes, creating a symphony of warmth and joy. As you all sat down to enjoy the meal, you couldn’t help but feel a deep sense of fulfillment. The love and connection you shared with Nanami, now extended to Yuuji in these small, everyday moments, made you realize just how precious and meaningful these times were.

In the midst of the shared meal, as the conversation continued and the laughter echoed through the room, you felt incredibly grateful. The sight of Nanami treating Yuuji with such kindness, the ease of their interactions, and the warmth of your home created a beautiful tapestry of everyday joy. And as you looked around the table, surrounded by the people you loved, you knew that these were the moments you would cherish forever.

As the meal drew to a close, you noticed that Yuuji’s eyes were beginning to droop. The day's excitement and the hearty dinner had taken their toll. You glanced at your husband, who met your gaze with a knowing smile.

“Yuu–chan.” you said gently, placing a hand on his shoulder. “It’s getting late, and you must be tired. Why don’t you head to the guest room and get some rest? You’re welcome to stay the night if you’d like.”

Yuuji blinked, a little surprised but clearly pleased. “Oh, really? I didn’t mean to impose, Nana–san…”

“You’re not imposing at all, Yuu–chan.” you reassured him with a warm smile. “You’re always welcome here. Always. We’d be happy to have you stay.”

Yuuji’s face lit up with a genuine smile. “Thank you so much! I’d love to stay. It’s been a while since I had a home-cooked meal like this, and spending time with you both has been really nice.”

Kento nodded, his expression tender. “I’m glad you enjoyed it. The guest room is all set for you. Let me show you where it is.”

As your husband led Yuuji toward the guest room, you decided to go on ahead and tidy up the table and cleaned the remaining dishes before your husband came back. Your husband always insists on doing it, but he is already tired.It feels nice for you, you think — to make sure that the home is clean for your lovely husband to relax in. The sounds of their footsteps and quiet conversation in the hallway were a comforting backdrop to your evening chores. They still must be talking upstairs, if they were still walking about. A few minutes later, your husband returned, his demeanor still soft and content.

“You know you didn’t have to wash it up, my love.” He presses a kiss on your cheek as you dry your hands. “I would have wanted to do it.”

You smile at him. “I know, but I wanted to do it. You deserve some rest.”

“So do you.” He sighs, growing softer as he looks at you. “I’ll do it tomorrow, hm? The whole day.”

You playfully roll your eyes, smiling wider. “Fine, if you insist.”

He smiles. “Good.”

“So, how is Yuu–chan?” You asked as you started untying your apron. “He must be exhausted.”

“Hm. He’s about to get ready for bed. He didn’t sleep much yesterday, so he should start to fall asleep soon.”

You sighed. “Poor boy. Well, he can stay as much as he likes. I doubt Sato–chan would be home early to pick him up again. Let him stay with us until then.”

“That’s what I told Gojo.”

“Good.” You smiled at him. “Then I could continue to cook for him. Pamper him, even!”

“You really made Itadori–kun’s night, my love.” Nanami said, his voice filled with appreciation. “He looked genuinely happy.”

You smiled at your husband. “He’s a good kid. I’m glad we could make him feel at home. It’s nice to share our home with someone who means so much to you. And well, someone who is dear to me now too.”

Kento walked closer to you, pulling you into a gentle embrace. “Thank you for making him feel welcome. I know it means a lot to him. And to me.”

You rested your head against his chest, savoring the warmth of his hug. “It’s what family is all about. And you know, it’s nice to have another person to share our home with.”

As you both stood there, the tranquility of the evening enveloping you, Nanami kissed the top of your head. “Let’s go check on him before we head to bed. It’s always nice to say goodnight.”

You nodded, and together you walked down the hallway to the guest room. The door was slightly ajar, and you could see Yuuji already settling in, his face relaxed and content. The blacket was covering him well enough. It was a cold night, so you were at least glad for that. You smiled at him.

“Hi, Yuu–chan. We just wanted to come up and say goodnight.” you said softly, peeking into the room. “Sleep well, hm? As much as you like, it’s okay. Remember, you have a home here with Kento and I whenever you want.”

Yuuji looked up, his eyes bright with gratitude. “Thank you, Nana–san, really. I’ll definitely take you up on that whenever I can. Nanamin already said the same thing, but really….I’m grateful to both of you.”

You smiled at him warmly. For a moment, Yuuji thinks that it would be a smile that only loving mothers can pull off. “Of course, don’t worry. Good night, Yuu–chan. Get some rest.”

With a final wave and a warm smile, you and Kento quietly closed the door and made your way back to your own room. The house felt even more like a home with Yuuji’s presence. And you were glad for it. As you looked at your husband, you knew that he felt the same way. You leaned against him, satisfied, happily. This was a happy night.

epilogue 

The warmth of the evening lingered, and you felt a happy contentment settle over you as you changed into your pajamas. Nanami Kento was already in bed, propped up against the pillows and reading a book. You slid under the covers next to him, resting your head on his shoulder.

"Kento, baby." you said, your tone light and playful. “I have thoughts I wanna say out loud.”

"Hmm?" He glanced down at you, his expression softening. “What are they about, my love?”

"I’ve been thinking, you know….I don’t think it’s crazy to think this, what I’m thinking." you began, a mischievous twinkle in your eye. "Maybe we should adopt Yuu–chan."

Nanami blinked, clearly taken aback. "Adopt Itadori–kun?"

You nodded, trying to keep a straight face. "Yes, he’s such a sweet boy, Kento. And he already seems like part of the family. Plus, he clearly adores you. And you clearly adore him. I’m sure it’s mutual between him and I. So, we might as well make it happen!”

Nanami chuckled, the sound deep and warm. "You do realize he’s already got Gojo as his current guardian, right? I doubt the higher–ups will allow us to take Itadori–kun.”

You pouted. "Yes, but think about it. I’m sure Sato–chan can convince everyone to make us Yuu–chan’s parents.  He’d bring so much energy into the house. Imagine all the laughter and fun. And you’d get to give him more life advice about girls, well even boys. I’m sure we’ll love him no matter what, you know?”

Kento closed his book, setting it aside. "And what would you get out of this arrangement?"

"Oh, just the joy of seeing you two bond even more. Being his mother…." you said with a laugh. "And maybe some help with the cooking. I can think some more, I’m sure.”

Kento shook his head, a smile tugging at his lips. "You’re incorrigible, my love.”

"But you love me still, hm?" you said, leaning in to kiss his cheek.

"That I do, my love." he agreed, wrapping his arm around you. "But I think we should leave the adopting to those who don’t have to face curses every day."

You sighed dramatically, still pouting. "Fine, fine. But I still think it’s a good idea."

Kento laughed, pulling you closer. "Maybe we can settle for having him over for dinner more often. How does that sound?"

You snuggled into his embrace, your smile widening. "Perfect. And who knows, maybe he’ll start calling you his dad! And me, his mom!”

Kento groaned playfully. "Now that’s a terrifying thought."

You laughed, the sound mingled with his, and the two of you drifted off to sleep, the warmth of your love and the lightheartedness of your conversation wrapping around you like a cozy blanket.

“But maybe when you retire….”

“......I’ll think about it.”

“I love you so much!” You say, kissing his shoulder. 

You hear him sigh, content. “I love you too.”

facts about nanami and his wife:

kento thinks that he fits being a house-husband. he likes the idea of taking care of his wife, so he thinks that he'd be great at it. he's thought about quitting sorcery to be a house-husband.

yuuji becomes a staple in your house. the guest room he used became his regular bedroom at the house. you buy clothes you think would suit him often and put it in his drawers. when he can't stay for the night, you indulge a long dinner.

these dinners lasting long into the night leads into yuuji not going home to the dorms at all and a long phone call between kento and yaga.

kento's mother and grandmother send your recipes to try almost daily. you guys maintain a group chat without the men in your lives. you enjoy it a lot, when you vent about your editor.

your editor always has a hard time with you keeping up with deadlines and because your editor's stric. sometimes, he brings out a picture of kento looking disappointed at you and you cry harder.

you still continue to ask kento to adopt yuuji because you really love him a lot. it would be easier if he was your son!!!

[writingrock]

i called for you

pairing: katsuki bakugou x reader (gender neutral) summary: waiting for your hero boyfriend to rescue you. you've called him and he's sure to come to your side.

notes: major death, angst, set in hero war arc, prequel of 'a lost dream' fic

word count: 995

a/n: you can read 'a lost dream' before or after this one. This is a short prequel <3

“Katsuki ... !”

“Katsuki, where are you?”

Your voice rings in the midst of the battlefield, echoing hauntingly. All alone. You stare at the daunting threat in front of you. Your eyes twitch at the writhing, myriad of hands Shigaraki unleashes. They move at an impossible pace. It's a horrifying sight. As much as you want to defeat him, you can't. You're badly injured. Falling back is the smart decision. A sharp pain on your side snaps your thoughts. Your breath hitches as you look down at your wounds. Your fist tightens. Everything hurts. Trembling, you fall back onto the rough rubble. Surrounded by the destruction you could not prevent. But you should be pleased that you did your part of the plan. Now you could fall back and recover. Everyone else had their part to play.

“Kats… fuck.. I need you..” a cough leaves your mouth. Along with it, there’s blood. The splatter splashes across the rubble. Fuck. When was help going to get here? Where is your boyfriend– your hero. He's the only one you want to see right now. You need him. The pain in your chest tightens as you grit your teeth. Suffering quietly as you kept your eyes open- searching for him in the ruins of battle.

As if your prayers have been answered, you see him. You’d recognise that messy, spiky hair anywhere. Adrenaline gives you one last push to get up. Your injured leg limps and stumbles as you run to him with all your might. Using your last strength to be in his arms. The embrace feels amazing. Katsuki feels so warm to lean on. Choked sobs leave your mouth. Mumbling about how thankful you are that he’s here. You're saved.

“You’re here to help right? To save me?” Tears roll down your cheek as you hold onto him, “I called you and you came here to get me right?” The grip on him tightens. Relief fills you to see Katsuki finally here. Your body feels light knowing you’re in safe hands now. That you can get help—

“Why did you call me?” Shock startles your body when he said that. Your quivering eyes looking up at him. Is he joking right now? The Katsuki Bakugou. Making some sick joke on the battlefield. You scoff at him and hit him in his chest. “Stop joking Katsuki, it’s not funny.” You barely choke out.

“I’m not here … ” His voice is firm and his words cut through your heart like a knife. What is he talking about? He’s not here? But he’s right in front of you. Fear rises in your chest. But before you could tell him off, Katsuki stops you. Your name drifts off his lips softly, “I can’t save you.” Why is he being so cruel? His words hurt more than the pain in your chest. You're about to scream at him when his red eyes focus on you. It quiets you down. His eyes are strangely serious with a heavy weight to them. He pauses before looking off into a direction. Instinctively, you follow his gaze to see…

You. You're sprawled across the battlefield. Mangled and bloodied all over. He can’t save you because you’re dead. Realisation hits you hard. Shattering your earlier hope. You’re about to fall to your knees when Katsuki catches you. Slowly, he guides you towards your body, his strong arms holding you close. A closer look at the body only confirms it. There's no mistaking it. How did you not realise it? You didn't even feel it. Was your death that ruthlessly quick?

You want to fight. You want to live. You refuse to accept this. Falling to your knees, you crumble over your dead body. Can you go back into your body? Maybe if you just leaned into your body it would work. Desperately searching for any solution to this impossible problem. You keep trying. Looking for a way to somehow revert your death. Deep down, you know that your attempts are futile.

Katsuki calls out your name. “It’s over,” he says flatly, a hint of regret in his tone, “I can’t do anything about it.” He’s not even here. He's not real. Your Katsuki. This Katsuki is just a figment of your memories. An illusion of your lover to accompany you during your dying moments. He’s not real. You let out a sob. You couldn’t even say goodbye to him.

“What do I do now..?” The question leaves your lips quietly as you process this. You died too young. There was so much you wanted to do. Your goals to be a pro hero are swept away. Heck, your plans for tomorrow are taken from you too. Your loved ones and family— didn’t you promise them to come back? Katsuki. You promised him to fight didn’t you? All the plans you made with him are reduced to nothing. Weren’t you guys going to celebrate after all of this? To go on that date you’ve been nagging him for?

“It doesn’t matter what you do now.” Katsuki says softly as he kneels down to look at you. Did you do your part? Are your friends okay? Thoughts scramble through your head but the one you don’t wish to face is Katsuki. Yet with this spectral form of him in front of you, it’s hard to ignore. You pause, “then can I stay here with you then?” Katsuki nods and pulls you into his arms. Embracing you tightly like he usually does. Correction— like he used to. Accepting your fate, you lean into Katsuki. His body doesn’t feel the same. This embrace isn’t the same. Yet it’s the only thing you have.

“Are you excited for our date after all this?” The question barely leaves you as you combust into sobs. The vision of Katsuki holds you tighter and replies, “Yeah.” Your cries fall on deaf ears as you get cradled by him. Barely, you managed a small “yeah.” You want to curse the gods. Scream at them for giving you such an early death. But nothing you do matters.

"It'll be really fun right?"

"It'll be good."

“I love you Katsuki.”

... He doesn’t answer.

a/n: I have way too much angst plots, i swear there will be fics that aren't just angst !!

border credits: @enchanthings & @adornedwithlight

© writingrock 2024 do not copy, translate or repost.

[awyeahitssam]

“Expulso!”

The force of the magic slammed him through one wall and into another, and Harry could not breathe. It felt like the time Dudley sat on top of his chest, pressing all of the air from his lungs. He gasped and choked to no avail, the sensation of breathlessness more distressing than the stars dancing before his eyes and the ringing of his ears. 

He was dying, dying, dying.

After a too-long moment Harry managed a shuddering inhale, getting a lungful of concrete dust for his troubles. He doubled over, coughing violently. His wand. He needed his wand.

His right arm was screaming in pain, and Harry squinted through hazy eyes to find a bone sticking out of it at a decidedly odd angle, having ripped through his shirt and robes. Harry had a half-hearted thought of relief that Lockhart wasn’t here to vanish all the bones, which was strange because he should be focusing on the fact that he still couldn’t breathe properly. 

He blinked blearily and twitched his left hand with a desperation that had his wand—blessedly whole—slapping into it. Harry wasn’t used to casting with his off hand, but he was still able to twist it enough to cast a bubble-head charm. 

The spell was silent, because he had no breath for words and no time to think that he couldn’t manage. He had to.

Harry gasped again, this time into a clean pocket of air, and the panic receded a little more at the hard-won oxygen. The pulsing of his temples began to ease on his next breath, but the world still looked too-bright and decidedly crooked. 

“My Lord,” came a smooth, even voice, “shall I take his wand?”

Harry’s eyes focused slowly on the two figures in front of him as his fingers tightened almost compulsively around his wand. His.

“Let the child learn his lesson in full first,” said Lord Voldemort generously. 

Harry swallowed around a dry mouth, glad to taste no blood. At least he hadn’t bitten his tongue or gotten any teeth knocked loose. He inhaled deeply again, revelling in his ability to do so, though the motion made him notice an ache in his sternum as well. Bruised ribs, maybe?  

‘Lesson?’ Harry wondered blearily, a few beats too late. 

Though perhaps he said it out loud, because Voldemort replied, “That you are no match for Lord Voldemort.”

Of course he wasn’t. What a stupid point to try and make. He was fifteen. He barely knew any magic at all. Voldemort had been given decades to learn, versus Harry’s five years. Any competent adult—and wasn’t that an oxymoron—could easily outmatch him, nevertheless a Dark Lord. 

“Well,” Voldemort’s voice came dryly, “you have more sense than I expected, having been raised on Dumbledore’s knee.”

Harry let out a vague approximation of a laugh. He hadn’t known Voldemort had a sense of humour. Dumbledore couldn’t even stand to be in the same room as him. They’d spoken—what, six times since he was eleven? Dumbledore hadn’t so much as looked his way the entire year. 

Not that Harry exactly wanted his attention. He was still angry with the Headmaster for that stupidity with the Triwizard Tournament, and his assault after returning from the Graveyard, and the resulting announcement made (on Harry’s behalf, as if he had any right to speak for him) that Voldemort was back. Really, Harry could have avoided a year of carving ‘I must not tell lies,’ into his own hand if it wasn’t for Dumbledore deciding to tell the world about Voldemort’s resurrection. 

Or maybe not, if Umbridge was one of Voldemort’s and he’d told her to torture Harry for revealing his return. Who knew? That would certainly have been a neat, simple solution. The woman was prejudiced enough to be on par with Malfoy, and he was a Death Eater. But if being prejudiced was the only qualifier to being a part of Voldemort’s army, or movement, or whatever the hell it was, then everybody would get an invite. Dudders could be a Death Eater; make his parents proud. 

“He has quite a mouth on him, My Lord.”

Wow, how observant. Snape would love this guy. 

Was Harry concussed? That was weird. Normally if he was concussed he stayed very, very still and quiet until he was able to sleep and his magic saw him to rights. If he got talkative with a head injury, the Durlsey’s would’ve probably dropped him at an orphanage like they always threatened, or maybe just left him in the middle of nowhere in hopes that he’d drop dead.

“What nonsense is he blubbering about?” the voice said again, and the trace of discomfort was slight but obvious to a boy who had been forced to pick up on such subtleties to survive. Did he not like to hear about the fact that some kids did not get coddled?

Did Death Eaters coddle their kids? Like, as a whole? Draco Malfoy had definitely been coddled; he acted just like Dudley, if not as stupid. He’d definitely grown up with a bed and food and people that would say ‘yes’ to his whims. He just had that sense about him.

Not that Harry wished that the boy hadn’t grown up with that stuff. Harry wouldn’t be intentionally cruel enough to hope for that. Just, he didn’t have to rub it in people’s faces so much. Then again, the brat would have to have manners or something not to do that, and with each passing day Harry was becoming increasingly sure that no witch or wizard actually possessed any matter of manners at all. Everyone was so rude, all the time. Well actually Riddle hadn’t been rude at first, but then he sicced a basilisk on Harry, which was not only rude but also attempted murder. 

Wait, where was he again? Oh. Halfway into the wall he had flown into after bursting through the first. Attempted murder again. That made sense.

The only question was, why was Voldemort so bad at actually murdering him? That had to be a little embarrassing. Oh wait, no, ‘lesson’. The man wanted to teach him something. Harry wondered if he wanted to be a good student for the Dark Lord, or if he’d rather just decline the opportunity. So far, he taught like a muggle.

“A muggle?”

Ouch. Harry’s scar hurt more than his arm; how did Voldemort do that? Harry needed to learn so he could hurt the man right back. Fairs fair.

A finger pressed cruelly into Harry’s brow, right over his scar. It hurt it hurt it hurt it hurtithurt!

“Just like a muggle,” Harry gasped out. Physical violence. Just like Vernon. Voldemort. Vernon. Maybe everyone in the world who had a V-name was the worst.

Cold fingers felt surprisingly nice against Harry’s overheated face. The pain of his scar ebbed abruptly, leaving a dizzying confusion in its wake. Harry might throw up sometime soon.

“Would you like non-physical violence, boy?” Voldemort asked.

Harry carded through the options. Isolation and containment. Starvation. Maybe mental violence, the kind that Snape preferred. Verbal violence of Petunia’s ilk seemed a bit below the Dark Lord, but then her words about how much of a worthless, unnatural freak Harry was did circle his head to this day, so there was no doubt that kind of thing was effective. Just, probably it would’ve been effective if Voldemort had started before he could remember like Petunia had. 

“Do you have a non-violent option? Or is there a box I can check to be killed quickly? Is this a survey? I would rate your services as abysmal. Or wait. Uh. Troll. That’s it, right? Yeah. Bad… bad grade. Probably your first. You’ve failed pacifism. A truly bleak thing for a Dark Lord. You have my greatest sympathies. Surely this will hurt your future career options and they’ll have to lower your salary.” 

Are revolutionaries paid? Or does Voldemort take his own payment? What would be a suitable payment for a Dark Lord? The bodies of his opposers? But then, all his opposers are magical, and didn’t Riddle have that Magic is Might thing? Or was that just something he said? The man had ordered the death of Cedric, who had been the most worthy of age wizard at Hogwarts according to the cup. Apparently Cedric’s completely attractive competency hadn’t mattered, because Voldemort hadn’t hesitated to kill one of the brightest of a generation when a stunner and memory charm could’ve worked just as well. 

Then again, he’d wanted to kill a baby, once, and the death toll of the last war had officially been tallied at one-hundred and seven magicals, after Harry’s parents, so obviously he could care less if he was decimating their population, so long as he got to rule the world or whatever. 

“Potter, do shut up.”

Huh? Had Harry been talking?

“Rambling,” the voice of the oddly not simpering sycophant chimed in helpfully. 

Well. That was something. Normally Harry went very quiet when he was concussed and waited for his magic to—oh. His magic. Harry had magic. What had he done last summer, when Sirius was no longer an adequate threat? He could probably just… 

Harry looked down to see his wand in his left hand. He set it down very gently, then stared blankly at said hand for a long, long moment. Then the air around it began to do that cute little vibrating thing that his magic would do when it hadn’t been let out for long enough, because of the stupid Dursley’s, and the stupid rules, (why the fuck weren’t students allowed to use magic at all over the summer? Didn’t it make them feel like they were going to burst apart with all the suppressed energy? It was near painful sometimes unless Harry found some way to use it, which invariably the Dursely’s gave him.) 

A hand grasped over his wrist and held him at bay. “Do not do whatever you are considering, you stupid, reckless child—”

Harry was a child, and he had chosen to be reckless when he had chosen Gryffindor over Slytherin, so he let his wrist spark with electricity that was enough to get the touch away from him. Why did people always feel so entitled to touching him? He shivered in revulsion even as he placed his hand to his head and let his eyes fall shut.

His magic went to work, effective as always. This was only the second time it hadn’t waited until Harry was asleep. That was very nice of it.

“Thank you,” he told it quite seriously, in the middle of its work. It buzzed against his temple, a current of energy, and Harry quieted and let it continue.

When Harry re-opened his eyes, his vision was not blurry, his head not pounding, and the world not an unsteady bouquet of water colours with a diagonal slant. When he opened his eyes, he met the red gaze of the Dark Lord Voldemort, and swallowed.

“Oh. Just… lovely. Hi?”

The man behind the Dark Lord snorted. Harry spared him a glance—no features were visible beneath his cloak and mask. 

Harry’s throat worked around a swallow. “Fancy seeing you here,” Harry offered, and then set his hand on his arms, because why not, and winced when his bone snapped back into place. 

Ithurtsithurtsohshit. 

Voldemort’s eyes were gleaming with an odd sort of hunger. “I wonder if you will be so eager to talk now, Harry Potter? Tell me… when was the last time you encountered me treating you politely?”

Voldemort didn’t know about the Chamber?

Harry swallowed. “Okay,” he said.

Voldemort stared. “Just like that.”

 “It’s not like I’m opposed to you knowing. I thought you already knew, but apparently you and Tom Riddle weren’t as connected as he implied. Though, you know, if you want me to spill all, you should at least say please.”

Harry’s scar ached, but his arm didn’t any more. Unlike his ribs. “Pardon?”

“You would actually prefer to use Crucio than say please,” Harry noted. “That says mildly concerning things about you, you know. Common courtesy—Troll.”

“He’s stalling,” the Death Eater noted, when Voldemort moved as if for his wand. 

“Of course I am,” Harry rebutted. “He’s clever; you should keep him around to control your terrible temper.”

Why was Harry doing this? Was he waiting for a rescue that would never come, or an opening that was twice as unlikely given the multitude of people involved. 

The Death Eater laughed, and Harry saw a flash of green light. Heard his mothers scream. 

“Oh,” he said, eyes going a bit wide. “There’s two of you.”

Both figures went unnaturally still. “Why would you say that?” The cloaked Voldemort asked. 

Harry tilted his head. “Your laugh,” he said simply. “Your voice is different, but your laugh is the same. Also, you’re not nearly frightened enough of ‘Your Lord’’.”

The cloaked figure hummed, then lowered his hood. “Clever boy,” he said lightly, eyes just as intent and intense as Voldemort’s own, though they were dark rather than bright. His hair was curly, Harry noticed, longer than Tom had kept it when he was in school, though this man didn’t look very old at all. He still had his nose, though his cheekbones were sharper than they had been as a boy, and unlike Voldemort he had lips as well. Harry catalogued these differences with some interest. The evolution of Voldemort, he thought vaguely.

“Technically,” he adds, as he finishes taking the other Dark Lord in, “I’d be doing the both of you a favour by sharing the story of my Second Year.”

His implication was clear. He wanted two pleases. 

“You’re positively suicidal, aren’t you?” the human Voldemort murmured. “Very well, Harry. Please tell me about the circumstances surrounding your encounter or encounters with Tom Riddle, as well as the encounters themselves.”

Harry watched him thoughtfully. “What are you going by?”

“Marvolo,” the cloaked man answered easily. 

“Marvolo,” he repeated thoughtfully. “Your middle name. Tom wrote it in the air for me—rearranged the letters to spell,” he gestured to Voldemort with his newly healed arm. It didn’t so much as twinge. He was more than a little impressed with his magic. 

“How did you take the revelation?” said Voldemort, something cruel in his voice. 

Harry's lips quirked. "I told him he was nothing special," Harry admitted easily. "I told him Dumbledore was the greatest wizard in the world. Mostly, I just wanted him to shut up. He kept asking questions,” he allowed his gaze to drift over both of them, mouth speaking absently even as calculations flashed through his mind. How was he going to get out of this unscathed? There had to be something… some way… 

“He was desperate to know about the night you lost your body,” he told Voldemort. “He thought I would have the answers, somehow. I told him it was my mum. Muggleborn,” he informed Marvolo, in case he didn’t know. Harry’s lips curled in amusement. “He didn’t like that very much. Went on and on about how alike we are. Then he decided it was luck and chance that had saved me, said I was nothing special, and called the basilisk.”

“Maybe I proved him wrong when I killed it and then shoved a basilisk fang into the diary.”

Rage bloomed in two sets of eyes, but it was Voldemort that hissed, “You what?”

“Well, I was dying too at the time,” he defended. “I’m nothing if not spiteful. If I died, I was going to take him with me.”

“Yet here you are,” Marvolo said with clear menace. “Apparently you did not get close enough to death.”

Harry watched him, unimpressed. “The diary wasn’t the only thing that got stabbed with a basilisk fang.”

“You lie,” hissed Voldemort, redrawing Harry’s gaze as if he’d ever truly lost it. 

Harry’s eyes narrowed. “Who’s the liar, here? My parents died begging you for mercy?”

“Didn’t they? Your father begged for his wife's life, and yours. Your mother for yours alone.”

Harry’s lips pressed tight. “Really fucked yourself, didn’t you? You told my mum ‘very well’, when she begged to trade her life for mine. You agreed. You didn’t think she was powerful enough to form an unbreakable vow without the official bindings? You would think you would be smarter than pureblood rhetoric when you’re hardly pure yourself.”

“That's it?” Marvolo murmured, tilting his head thoughtfully. “You couldn’t tell me that?” He glanced at Voldemort, then straightened. “You didn’t know.”

Harry felt the silent chastisement in the words. ‘How is it that a child realised what you didn’t?’

[satansdarlin]

Spring's comfort

Oh my God, two posts in one day? New record! Anyway I wrote this to indulge my shameless love for Scott summers. (My ACTUAL hubby). Also stoner!Scott cause I said so.

Scott summers x FEM!reader

Rating: M

Word count: 5.7k

Warnings: talk about weed and the consumption of it, mention of sexual tension and slight alludements to it, talk of battle feild casualties, talk of self doubt and bullying for physical appearance, The xmen are nearly a sickingly sweet family.

If you liked this check of my masterlist or put in a request if they are open

The hill behind Xavier's School bloomed with early spring's awakening, dotted with cheerful dandelions that swayed in the gentle breeze. Below, the sounds of laughter and the crack of baseball bats echoed across the grounds, but your attention was fixed on the figure hunched beneath the ancient oak that crowned the hilltop.

You traced your fingers across the weathered bark, finding the initials you and Scott had carved years ago—back when white bandages had covered his eyes instead of his now-signature ruby quartz. Those early days felt like a lifetime ago, yet some things remained constant: like Scott's stubborn refusal to show weakness, even as spring's changing pressure systems wreaked havoc with his migraines.

"Don't," Scott said through clenched teeth as you settled beside him. "I'm fine."

You kept your voice soft, barely above a whisper, but couldn't resist a touch of sarcasm. "Oh yeah, you look absolutely fantastic. I especially love how you're definitely not about to accidentally vaporize that innocent shrub down there."

He pressed his face harder against his knees, a quiet groan escaping. "Please don't start. I've already had to deal with Logan's commentary today."

"No starting, I promise." You reached into your pocket, retrieving a small bottle. "In fact, I come bearing gifts of mercy."

The secret you shared with Scott—one that would leave the entire school slack-jawed in disbelief if they knew—clinked softly as you shook out a single gummy and pressed it into his palm. The straight-laced, by-the-book Scott Summers had discovered that sometimes the best medicine came in less conventional forms.

"You're an absolute lifesaver," he murmured, carefully placing the edible on his tongue. He let it dissolve slowly, a technique you'd both learned maximized its effectiveness against the crushing pressure behind his eyes.

You settled back against the oak's sturdy trunk, maintaining a comfortable silence as the spring breeze carried distant shouts and laughter up the hill. It was a rare moment of vulnerability for Scott—one he allowed few others to witness—and you were content to simply be there, a steady presence while he waited for relief.

Minutes passed in companionable quiet before Scott finally shifted, his shoulders gradually losing their tension. "Logan caught me in the Danger Room earlier," he admitted, voice slightly rough. "Told me I was being an idiot for pushing myself when I could barely see straight."

"Well, he's not wrong," you replied, bumping his shoulder gently. "Though I'm sure he expressed it with his usual delicacy."

A small smile tugged at Scott's lips. "Something about 'stubborn jackasses' and 'teaching while half-blind.'" He lifted his head slightly, the afternoon sun catching on his visor. "I had to cancel my advanced combat class."

"The students will survive one missed lesson," you assured him. "Contrary to what you might think, the school won't fall apart if you take care of yourself occasionally."

"Says the person enabling my highly unprofessional coping methods," he countered, but there was warmth in his voice now, the edge of pain finally beginning to fade.

You grinned. "Hey, I prefer to think of it as 'providing alternative therapeutic solutions.' Very professional. I could probably write a paper about it."

"Please don't." But he was actually chuckling now, the sound soft and genuine. The medication was starting to take effect, easing the vice-grip of pain that had been squeezing his skull. "Though I'd love to see the Professor's face if you tried to present that at a medical conference."

"'The Effects of Cannabis on Optic Blast-Induced Migraines: A Case Study,'" you intoned in your best academic voice. "I'm sure it would be very well-received."

Scott shook his head, but he was smiling properly now. The worst of the migraine was passing, leaving him tired but no longer in agony. He leaned back against the tree beside you, your shoulders touching. "Thank you," he said quietly. "For knowing when to find me. For..." He gestured vaguely, encompassing everything—the medicine, the company, the lack of judgment.

"Always," you replied simply. "That's what friends are for.”

The word "friends" settled between you like autumn leaves, delicate and somehow tinged with melancholy. You became acutely aware of where your shoulders touched, of the familiar scent of his cologne mingling with the spring air. These moments alone with Scott had become both a comfort and a sweet torture—each one adding another crack to the careful walls you'd built around your growing feelings for him.

Scott shifted slightly, and you felt him tense, though not from pain this time. "Jean asked about us the other day," he said carefully, his tone deliberately neutral in that way that meant he was overthinking every word.

Your heart stuttered. "Oh?" You kept your own voice light, though your fingers nervously plucked at the grass beside you. "What about us?"

"She said..." He paused, seeming to wrestle with the words. "She said we have a connection she's never seen me have with anyone else. That even without her telepathy, she can see it."

You forced a laugh, though it came out slightly strained. "Well, shared delinquency does tend to bond people."

"That's not—" Scott started, then stopped. His jaw worked for a moment before he continued, softer, "You know that's not what she meant."

The air felt heavier suddenly, charged with unspoken words. You could feel your pulse in your throat, years of careful friendship teetering on the edge of something more. But the risk of losing what you had, of making things awkward and ruining the easy comfort between you—it seemed too high a price.

"Scott..." you began, not sure how to finish.

He turned toward you slightly, and even through the ruby quartz, you could feel the intensity of his gaze. "Sometimes," he said, voice barely above a whisper, "I wonder if I'm the only one who..." He trailed off, uncertainty evident in the set of his shoulders.

Your breath caught. Was he saying what you thought he was saying? You'd gotten so good at reading him over the years, at interpreting every subtle shift in his expression, but right now you were terrified of misunderstanding.

"You're not," you whispered back, heart hammering. "You're not the only one."

The confession hung in the air between you, delicate as spun glass. Scott's hand found yours in the grass, his fingers trembling slightly as they intertwined with your own. Neither of you moved beyond that simple touch, both afraid of shattering this fragile new thing taking shape between you.

"How long?" he asked softly.

You gave a shaky laugh. "Remember when you helped me practice combat moves last summer? You pinned me down, and for a second, I forgot how to breathe. And it wasn't because of the sparring."

A slight flush crept up his neck. "I, uh, may have let that match go on longer than strictly necessary for training purposes."

"Really?" You turned to face him fully now, a smile tugging at your lips. "And here I thought you were just being thorough."

"I've wanted to tell you," he admitted, thumb tracing patterns on your palm. "But you're one of the few people who sees me as just... me. Not Cyclops, not the team leader, just Scott. I couldn't bear to lose that."

"You won't," you assured him, squeezing his hand. "That's not something that could change. Though I might have to start calling you 'just Scott' now, to make sure you remember."

He smiled then, one of those rare, full smiles that made your heart flip. "I think I can live with that."

The baseball game below had ended, the sun starting to dip toward the horizon, painting the sky in shades of pink and gold. But neither of you moved to leave your spot under the oak tree, content to sit in this new understanding, hands linked, watching the day fade into evening.

Sometimes the biggest changes came not with grand gestures or dramatic declarations, but with quiet admissions on spring afternoons, with the gentle understanding that what you'd been looking for had been right beside you all along but that was just the beginning of something new.

.

.

.

Your room had become a haven of soft lamplight and quiet laughter as evening settled over the mansion. You sat cross-legged on your bed, Scott beside you, both of you having shed the day's tensions along with your shoes. The small fan in your window hummed, pushing the spring breeze through your room and carrying away any telltale scents.

"I still can't believe you kept that," Scott chuckled, gesturing to the rather embarrassing photo on your cork board—him in his early days at the school, attempting to look serious despite sporting a truly regrettable haircut.

"Are you kidding? It's blackmail gold," you teased, feeling wonderfully light and warm. The evening's shared gummy had left you both in that perfect state of relaxed contentment. "Besides, you were adorable with that bowl cut."

"Adorable isn't exactly the look I was going for," he replied, but his smile was fond. The usual rigid set of his shoulders had melted away, and he'd relaxed back against your headboard, his leg pressed against yours.

"No? What look were you going for exactly? Because I distinctly remember—"

A sharp knock at your door made you both freeze.

"Hey, kid, you got a bottle opener in there?" Logan's gruff voice carried through the wood.

You exchanged panicked looks with Scott, whose face had gone notably pale. "Uh, just a second!" you called out, frantically waving your hands at the wisps of smoke from your incense burner.

"I can come back if you're busy," Logan drawled, a knowing tone in his voice that made your stomach drop. Right. Enhanced senses. Of course he could smell—

"No! No, it's fine, I'll just—" you stumbled off the bed, accidentally kicking Scott in the process, who barely managed to stifle a yelp.

When you opened the door, you kept it deliberately narrow, trying to block the view inside. Logan stood there with his signature raised eyebrow, a six-pack of beer tucked under one arm.

"Bottle opener?" you squeaked.

His nostrils flared slightly, and his lips twitched. "Interesting evening you're having."

"I don't know what you—"

"Summers in there with you?" He didn't wait for an answer, raising his voice slightly. "You know, if someone's having trouble sleeping or dealing with pain, there's this thing called the med bay."

You heard Scott groan from inside the room.

Logan's expression shifted between amusement and exasperation. "Look, I don't care what you two do in your off hours, but maybe try using the bathroom fan next time. Some of us have sensitive noses." He paused, then added with a smirk, "And thin walls."

Your face burned. "I'll, uh, keep that in mind."

"Bottle opener?" he reminded you.

"Right! Yes!" You practically dove for your desk drawer, grabbed the opener, and thrust it at him.

He accepted it with a knowing look. "Have fun, kids. Try to keep it down." He turned to leave, then called over his shoulder, "And Summers? You got training with the junior team at nine tomorrow. Don't be late."

You closed the door and leaned against it, mortified. Behind you, Scott had buried his face in your pillow.

"So," you said after a moment of profound silence, "that happened."

Scott lifted his head, his hair adorably mussed. "Think he'll tell the Professor?"

You couldn't help but laugh at his worried expression. "Pretty sure Logan's the last person to snitch about recreational activities." Moving back to the bed, you settled beside him again. "Though we might want to invest in better ventilation."

"Or," Scott said, reaching for your hand and pulling you closer, "we could just use my room next time. Corner suite. Better air flow."

"Next time?" you asked, trying to ignore how your heart skipped at his casual assumption of future evenings together.

His smile turned slightly sheepish. "Well, I was hoping... since we already came clean about other things today..."

You leaned in closer, feeling bold. "Mr. Summers, are you suggesting we make this a regular thing?"

"The getting caught by Logan part? Definitely not." His hand found your waist. "The rest of it? Yeah, I think I am."

Before you could respond, his com unit chirped. Followed by yours. Then both of your phones.

"GROUP MEETING NOW," read Storm's text. "LOGAN SAYS IT'S URGENT."

You both stared at the messages in horror.

"He wouldn't," Scott said.

Another text came through: "BRING BOTTLE OPENER."

"He would," you groaned.

Scott let his head fall back against the wall with a thunk. "Think it's too late to run away and join the Brotherhood?"

You patted his knee sympathetically. "Look on the bright side—at least we don't have to figure out how to tell everyone we're dating now."

"Is that what we're doing?" he asked softly, tension creeping back into his shoulders. "Dating?"

You took his hand, lacing your fingers through his. "Well, I'm not sharing my premium edibles with just anyone, Summers."

His laugh, warm and genuine, was worth whatever teasing awaited you downstairs. Though you did make a mental note to start keeping backup bottle openers in every room—just in case.The walk to the common room felt like a march to execution, though you weren't sure what was more nerve-wracking—the prospect of facing the team or the way Scott's hand kept brushing against yours, sending little electric shocks up your arm. You were still slightly high, which wasn't helping your anxiety levels.

"We could always say we were studying," you suggested halfheartedly as you approached the door.

Scott snorted. "Right. Because that's totally why my heart rate is through the roof right now."

"You know I can hear you both, right?" Logan's voice carried through the door, followed by several poorly suppressed snickers.

Taking a deep breath, you pushed open the door. The entire team was sprawled across various furniture pieces, trying and failing to look casual. Storm sat perched on the arm of the sofa, hiding a smile behind her hand. Kurt was hanging upside down from the chandelier, his tail swishing with barely contained amusement. Even the Professor was there, though he at least had the grace to maintain his usual serene expression.

"So," Logan drawled from his position leaning against the fireplace, "now that our fearless leader and his... study partner have joined us, we can begin."

Scott's ears were turning red, but he maintained his composure, crossing his arms. "You called an emergency meeting just to—"

"Actually," Storm interrupted, her eyes twinkling, "we've been taking bets on when you two would finally figure it out. Jean's been insufferable about knowing for months."

"WHAT?" you and Scott exclaimed simultaneously.

"Please," Jean smirked from her corner. "You think I needed telepathy to see those pining looks? The sexual tension in the Danger Room was getting ridiculous."

"There was no sexual tension in the—" Scott started.

"Dude," Bobby cut in, "you made us run extra drills every time they wore those new training pants."

Your face felt like it was on fire. Scott's mouth opened and closed several times, but no sound came out.

"If we could return to the actual purpose of this meeting," the Professor interjected smoothly, though you swore you saw him slip Storm a twenty-dollar bill. "Logan has brought to my attention that we may need to discuss updating some of our... recreational policies."

"Oh god," you mumbled, sinking into the nearest chair. Scott remained standing, looking like he wished his optic blasts could open a hole in the floor to swallow him.

"Specifically," Logan continued, clearly enjoying himself, "the proper ventilation requirements for certain activities." He tossed your bottle opener in the air and caught it. "And maybe a discussion about sharing resources."

"I hate everyone in this room," Scott declared, but he finally sat down—right next to you on the loveseat, his thigh pressed against yours in a way that definitely didn't help your concentration.

"Even me?" you whispered.

His hand found yours between the cushions, hidden from view. "You're on thin ice," he murmured back, but his thumb stroking across your knuckles said otherwise.

"If you two are done having a moment," Logan interrupted, "we've got actual business to discuss. Like how I'm not gonna play delivery man every time someone needs party supplies."

"Wait," Kurt's eyes widened, his tail stopping mid-swish. "Is THAT why Scott's always so relaxed during movie nights?"

"Moving on," the Professor said firmly, but there was definite amusement in his voice. "Perhaps we should discuss the upcoming mission to—"

"Nuh uh," Storm cut in. "We're not changing subjects until they tell us how long this has been going on. I've got money riding on this."

You exchanged a look with Scott, and something in his expression made your heart flutter. Maybe it was the lingering effects of the edible, or maybe it was just that the secret was out anyway, but you felt a surge of boldness.

"Well," you announced, "officially? About six hours. Unofficially..." you squeezed Scott's hand, "probably since that time he tried to teach me to ride his motorcycle and we ended up in the lake."

"HAH!" Bobby jumped up. "That was eight months ago! Pay up, everyone!"

Money started changing hands around the room as Scott turned to you, eyebrows raised above his visor. "The lake incident? Really?"

You shrugged, feeling your face heat up. "You gave me your jacket, and your hair was all wet, and you had this little smile... it was a whole thing."

"If it helps," he said softly, ignoring the chaos of bet-settling around you, "I started falling for you way before that. Remember when you brought me soup during that mission planning session and told me I was being an idiot for skipping meals?"

"That was over a year ago!"

"Yeah, well," he smiled that rare, soft smile that made your insides melt, "apparently I'm slow to catch on."

"Oh my god, they're even worse now," Logan groaned. "I'm gonna need stronger beer."

But you barely heard him, too caught up in the way Scott was looking at you, in the realization that all those moments you'd treasured, all those little interactions you'd overthought—he'd been feeling it too. The team's teasing faded into background noise as Scott's thumb traced patterns on your palm, each touch a quiet promise of more moments to come.

"So," you whispered, "your room next time?"

His answering grin was worth every bit of embarrassment the evening had brought. "It's a date."

"If you two are done making heart eyes at each other," Storm called out, "we actually do have a mission to discuss."

Scott straightened, slipping into leader mode, but his hand stayed firmly entwined with yours. And if the mission briefing took longer than usual because people kept making poorly concealed jokes about "joint operations" and "higher planning"—well, you found you didn't mind so much anymore.

Sometimes the best things in life came with a side of merciless teasing from your found family. And maybe, you thought as Scott's thumb brushed across your knuckles again, that made them even better. 

.

.

.

The mission had left you both battered and exhausted, more emotionally than physically. Your uniform still bore scorch marks from a too-close call, and Scott's jaw hadn't unclenched since you'd boarded the Blackbird for the flight home. The loss of civilians always hit him the hardest, even when there was nothing more any of you could have done.

You found yourself following him to his corner suite without discussion, neither of you wanting to be alone. The sun had long since set, casting the mansion in quiet shadows. His room was exactly as you'd expected—meticulously organized, minimalist, but with small touches that were purely Scott: a worn paperback on the nightstand, a framed photo of the original team, his leather jacket hung carefully by the door.

"Shower's yours if you want it," he offered quietly, already shrugging off his tactical vest.

You shook your head. "You first. I'll raid your dresser for something clean."

He paused, then nodded, disappearing into the bathroom. The sound of running water filled the silence as you borrowed one of his soft grey t-shirts and a pair of track pants that you had to roll at the waist several times.

When he emerged, hair damp and wearing sleep clothes, some of the mission's tension had eased from his shoulders. He'd switched his visor for his sleeping goggles—the ones you'd helped him modify last winter to be more comfortable.

"Better?" you asked softly.

He crossed to where you sat on the edge of his bed, cupping your face in his hands. "Getting there," he murmured, pressing his forehead to yours. "Today was..."

"I know." You pulled him closer, letting him wrap his arms around you, holding on as if to assure himself you were really there. "But we made it. We're here."

His fingers traced the edge of the scorch mark on your borrowed shirt. "When I saw that blast coming toward you—"

"Hey." You caught his hand, bringing it to your lips. "I'm okay. We're okay."

He exhaled shakily, then kissed you with a gentle desperation that made your heart ache. You responded in kind, trying to pour all your understanding and comfort into the contact. When you finally parted, his breathing was unsteady.

"Stay?" he whispered. "Just... stay with me tonight?"

"Always," you promised, shifting to make room as he pulled back the covers.

You settled into his arms, your back against his chest, his heartbeat steady against your spine. His arm draped protectively around your waist, hand splayed across your stomach, thumb tracing idle patterns that made you shiver.

"Is this okay?" he murmured against your hair.

You laced your fingers through his. "More than okay." After a moment, you added with a slight smile, "Though Logan's probably going to have opinions about our sleeping arrangements at tomorrow's training session."

His quiet laugh rumbled through your back. "Logan can deal with it." He pressed a kiss to your shoulder. "I need this. Need you."

The simple honesty in his voice made your breath catch. You turned in his arms to face him, tracing the line of his jaw. "You've got me, Scott. For as long as you want me."

His answer was another kiss, deeper this time, full of unspoken promises and growing heat. Your hands found their way under his shirt, mapping the warm skin of his back as he drew you closer.

The world outside could wait until morning. For now, there was just this—the quiet sanctuary of his room, the comfort of being held, and the knowledge that whatever tomorrow brought, you'd face it together.

.

.

.

The first time you heard it, you were breaking up a disagreement between two students in the hallway. Scott had arrived moments after you, arms crossed, wearing what the kids called his "Dad Face"—stern but concerned, ready to dispense both discipline and guidance.

"Sorry, Mom, sorry, Dad," one of the students had muttered automatically, then frozen, eyes widening in horror at what they'd just said.

You'd maintained your composure until the students scurried away, then dissolved into laughter against Scott's shoulder. "Did we just get parent-zoned by the junior class?"

But it didn't stop there. Somehow, it spread through the school like wildfire.

"Mom! Bobby froze my homework again!" became a common complaint in your classroom.

"Dad's giving the disappointed face in combat training" was whispered in hallways whenever Scott had to correct someone's form.

Now, weeks later, you were grading papers in the library when Scott dropped into the chair beside you, running a hand through his hair in exasperation. "Three different students asked me if they were grounded today. I wasn't even disciplining them."

You tried to hide your smile. "Well, you were wearing your navy sweater. That's definitely peak dad energy."

"I like this sweater," he protested, then paused. "Wait, is that my cardigan you're wearing?"

"Maybe." You tugged the borrowed garment closer. It still smelled like him. "I'm just leaning into the mom aesthetic. Besides, you never wear it."

"Because someone keeps stealing it." But his mock annoyance was betrayed by the way he reached over to fix the collar, his fingers lingering against your neck.

"Mr. Summers! Ms.—oh gross, they're being cute again," came Jubilee's voice from behind a bookshelf. "I'm telling Logan our parents are making out in the library."

"We're not—" Scott started, but she was already gone, the sound of her laughter echoing down the hall.

You couldn't help chuckling at his flustered expression. "You have to admit, it's kind of sweet they see us that way."

"Sweet wasn't exactly what I was going for when I became a teacher here," he grumbled, but there was a softness in his voice.

"No? The great Cyclops didn't dream of being the world's most responsible dad figure?" You reached up to smooth his perpetually wayward hair. "Because you're kind of nailing it with the whole protective, supportive, slightly nerdy—"

He cut you off with a kiss, one hand cupping your face while the other steadied himself on your chair. You melted into it, papers forgotten, until—

"Ugh, LOGAN! They're doing it again!"

You broke apart to find Kitty's head sticking through a bookshelf, looking thoroughly scandalized.

"That's it," Scott declared, standing and pulling you up with him. "Field trip. Everyone's running laps."

"But Daaaad," Kitty whined, then phased fully through the shelf with a grin. "Does this mean we're getting a little brother or sister?"

You'd never seen Scott turn quite that shade of red before.

"Twenty laps!" he called after her retreating form. "And tell your friends thirty if they make any more comments!"

You tugged him back down into his chair, laughing at his flustered expression. "You know that's just going to encourage them more, right?"

He groaned, letting his head fall onto your shoulder. "How did this become my life?"

"Well," you mused, running your fingers through his hair, "you did decide to date the cool teacher. The one who lets them eat snacks in class and doesn't give pop quizzes."

"The one who enables their sugar highs and constantly undermines my authority, you mean?" But he was smiling now, that soft smile reserved just for you.

"Exactly. Face it, Summers, you're stuck being the strict parent. Someone has to maintain order around here."

He lifted his head to look at you, and something in his expression made your heart skip. "Yeah?" he said softly. "And how long do you plan on being the fun parent?"

The weight of the question hung in the air between you. "Well," you managed, throat suddenly tight with emotion, "I did help you reorganize your closet by color last weekend. I think I'm pretty committed to this co-parenting gig."

His laugh was warm and full of promise as he pulled you closer. "Good. Because I'm pretty sure the kids would stage a revolt if Mom left."

"Just the kids?" you teased.

"Well," he murmured, leaning in, "Dad might have some opinions about it too."

"Oh my god, AGAIN?" came Bobby's voice from somewhere behind you. "Logan! MOM AND DAD ARE—"

"FIFTY LAPS!" Scott shouted, but he was laughing as he said it, and when he kissed you again, neither of you cared who saw.

After all, every family had its quirks. Yours just happened to include superpowers, teenage mutants who called you Mom and Dad, and a perpetually exasperated Logan who kept threatening to send you both to parenting classes.

You wouldn't have it any other way.

.

.

.

You hadn't meant to ruin the rare day off. The local pool had seemed like a perfect escape from the summer heat, and seeing the younger students so excited about a normal afternoon out had been worth all the preparation and permission slips. But now you sat on the edge of your bed, still in your damp swimsuit with Scott's t-shirt hastily pulled over it, trying to pretend your hands weren't shaking.

The knock at your door was gentle. "Hey," Scott's voice carried through. "Can I come in?"

You made a noncommittal sound that he correctly interpreted as yes. He entered, still in his swim trunks and the long-sleeve rashguard he wore to hide his more visible scars. The ruby quartz sunglasses he wore for public outings were pushed up into his damp hair.

"Logan's got the kids back at the mansion," he said softly, sitting beside you. "Storm's making hot chocolate, despite it being about ninety degrees out. Something about comfort requiring chocolate."

"They shouldn't have had to leave early," you mumbled. "They were having fun."

"They were more worried about you." His hand found yours, thumb brushing over your knuckles. "We all were. When those people started saying those things..."

You tried to smile, but it felt wobbly. "Guess they weren't fans of the swimsuitl." You touched your sides self-consciously. "I should have known better."

"Hey." Scott's voice went firm. "Don't. Don't let them make you feel like you did anything wrong."

A soft thud against your window made you both look up. Kitty's face was pressed against the glass, rapidly fogging it up.

"Um," you managed, "did she just climb up three stories?"

Another face appeared beside hers – Kurt's. Then Bobby's head popped up from below.

Scott sighed, but you could see him fighting a smile. "I think we're about to have company."

Sure enough, Kitty phased through the wall, Kurt teleported in with his signature BAMF, and Bobby created an ice slide up to your window before climbing through.

"The others are coming up the normal way," Kitty announced, plopping down on your other side. "Like boring people."

"Because doors are for losers," Scott deadpanned, but his hand squeezed yours when you let out a small laugh.

As if on cue, your door opened again. Jean entered with a tray of Storm's promised hot chocolate, followed by Storm herself, Logan, and what looked like half the student body.

"This is not regulation dormitory capacity," you pointed out weakly as teenagers began filling every available surface in your room.

"Screw regulations," Logan growled, leaning against your dresser. "We're having a family meeting."

"About?" you asked, though the way everyone was looking at you made it pretty obvious.

"About how we're gonna show those jerks that nobody messes with our mom," Jubilee declared from her perch on your desk.

"Language," Scott said automatically, then added, "But she's not wrong."

"We could ice their cars," Bobby suggested.

"Or I could accidentally cause a small rain cloud to follow them around," Storm mused, looking far too innocent as she handed you a mug of cocoa.

"No revenge plots," Scott said firmly, though you noticed he didn't sound entirely convinced. "We're better than that."

"Says the guy who was about to blast their windshield," Logan muttered.

"You what?" you turned to Scott, who had the grace to look slightly sheepish.

"I was... considering it," he admitted. "The way they looked at you, the things they said..." His jaw clenched. "Nobody talks to someone I love like that."

The room went suddenly, suspiciously quiet. You realized it was the first time he'd used that word – love – even though you'd both been dancing around it for months.

"Aww," Kitty sighed, breaking the silence. "Dad's getting sappy."

"Can we focus?" Scott's ears had turned red. "We need to discuss how to handle situations like this in the future, as a team."

"Already handled," Jean spoke up. "I may have... suggested to the pool management that they might want to review their discrimination policies. Telepathically. Very thoroughly."

"And I might have mentioned that my law firm would be very interested in hearing about any future incidents," Ororo added casually.

"Plus, we're totally starting our own pool club here," Jubilee announced. "Better than their stupid public pool anyway. We can do cool mutant stuff without boring people complaining."

"Yeah!" Bobby brightened. "I can make the best water slides!"

"And I can heat the water!" John called from somewhere in the back.

"Absolutely not," Scott said quickly. "No combining powers without supervision, we've talked about this."

You couldn't help but laugh at the familiar chaos, the tightness in your chest finally starting to ease. Looking around your overcrowded room at these people – your family – you felt the day's hurt beginning to fade.

"Thank you," you said softly. "All of you."

Scott's arm slipped around your waist, pulling you closer. "Always," he murmured against your temple. Then, louder, "But everyone out of this room in five minutes. There are actual fire codes we're violating right now."

"Ugh, Dad's back in teacher mode," Kitty groaned, but she was smiling as she started herding younger students toward the door.

As the room slowly emptied, people stopping to hug you or offer final declarations of support, you leaned into Scott's side. "So," you said quietly, "love, huh?"

He turned to face you fully, one hand coming up to trace your [mutation feature] with gentle fingers. "Yeah," he said simply. "Love."

"Even with all this?" you gestured vaguely at yourself.

"Because of all of it," he corrected. "Every part of you. Anyone who can't see how beautiful you are is an idiot."

You kissed him then, pouring all your gratitude and returning love into it, not caring that there were still students in the room.

"Gross," Logan commented from the doorway. "Come on, kids, let's give your parents some privacy. But Summers? Next time someone gives her trouble, you better not stop me from showing them why they call me Wolverine."

"Next time," Scott replied, not looking away from you, "I might help."

As the door closed behind the last of your impromptu support group, you snuggled closer to Scott. "Our family's kind of intense," you observed.

"Yeah," he agreed, pressing a kiss to your temple. "But would you have it any other way?"

Looking around your room at the evidence of their visit – scattered cocoa mugs, a few ice crystals from Bobby's entrance, scorch marks on your ceiling from Jubilee's enthusiastic gesturing – you smiled. "Not a chance."

Sometimes the worst moments led to the best reminders of what really mattered. And what mattered was right here – in a too-crowded school full of mutant teenagers who called you Mom, a team that would face down any threat to protect their own, and a man who loved every part of you, even the parts others couldn't understand.

"Hey Scott?"

"Hmm?"

"I love you too."

His smile was brighter than any summer day, and worth every challenge that came with being who you were.

[crimeronan]

Hunter is eight years old the first time the Emperor puts things plainly.

But he's understood the situation for a while, so it's actually kind of a relief when Belos takes him aside.

"This curse is... difficult," the Emperor tells him, which is not news. One of his hands grips Hunter's shoulder, the other tipping his chin up, because he's so much taller and he needs to be sure that Hunter is paying attention.

"Luz doesn't always understand the danger she's in," Belos adds, which is an understatement. "Her human body is much more fragile than your own. This place wasn't built for creatures like her."

"I know," Hunter says.

The grip on his shoulder tightens, painful. "You know?"

He could kick himself. It's not the first time he's spoken out of turn; the consequences tend to be more pronounced for him than they ever are for Luz.

But now he's being asked a direct question, so he says, "I know she's fragile. She's -- she -- she doesn't mean to aggravate you, Uncle. Please-"

"And yet," Belos says lightly, "I do so frequently find myself aggravated."

Hunter falls silent.

His worst fear is that his clumsy words might get Luz hurt. So he's surprised when the Emperor drops to a knee to level with him, something he can't remember Belos ever doing before.

"I'm worried sick about her, Hunter," he murmurs. "All it takes is one bad day, and then -- well."

"Maybe she can stay away," Hunter suggests, "on your bad days, maybe she can-"

"Hush."

Hunter shuts up. Again.

"Do you really think any of the witches here can be trusted to care for her properly?" Belos asks.

Hard to say. There's clearly a right answer, though, so Hunter shakes his head.

"Of course not. No, I won't have my daughter locked away from me. But I do worry. One of these days, if I'm aggravated, the curse may drive me to do something... terrible. It would break my heart to see her suffer."

I know. Hunter manages to hold his tongue this time, but he does know. He's known from the moment that Belos took Luz under his wing. Whenever he can shadow them, he does. Luz never minds; she always likes the extra company. She doesn't know how often he's sick with fear.

"Do it to me," Hunter says. "If you... if you need to... if she makes you angry, then do it to me."

The grip on his shoulder relaxes. It's impossible to read Belos past the mask, but he doesn't seem upset.

"That's quite a sacrifice," he says.

"I can take it. She can't."

Belos nods, humming. "I suppose that does work as a solution. Thank you, Hunter. I'm so glad I can rely on you."

[somelokivariant]

Based off of this prompt

Merlin was back at work serving the King after nearly dying saving the kingdom. Just another average Tuesday.

Last night was fairly rough, Merlin arriving home after midnight with a rather pretty dagger sticking out of his abdomen. Gaius stitched him up and made him drink this very disgusting solution (God what was in there???). And after two little hours of sleep he was back serving this dingbat breakfast. Obviously he couldn't ask for a day off. What was he supposed to say, "Oh sorry Arthur, I found myself face to face with a fae cursing Camelot! I fought her with my magic but she threw a knife at me." Honestly he probably could say all that and Arthur would think Merlin spent too much at the tavern again. Merlin internally rolled his eyes. For now he was carrying on with work and Arthur's stupid comments like every other day.

He hobbled over to set the table for the king, his stomach burning. Merlin paid attention to not show it on his face.

"Why are you walking like that?"

"Like what?" He didn't pay attention to not show it in the rest of him.

"Like one of your legs is longer than the other."

"Oh, uh... I ran my hip into the table earlier"

Arthur just rolled his eyes and muttered to himself. Luckily Merlin was just clumsy enough for that to be entirely likely.

Merlin polished armour sitting down, and washed the laundry with magic. Unfortunately he couldn't find a way around Arthur's training. He could barely keep his coordination on a regular day, how on earth was he supposed to do this with stitches up his side. Stupid king training with his stupid muscles and sword. Merlin tried his best dueling Arthur while keeping his composure. He didn't want Arthur asking anymore questions, because honestly he was to beat to deflect them. Arthur swiped and Merlin dodged, a sharp burn going up his side. He felt like toppling over from the shock. Apparently that sludge solution from Gaius was not as effective as it was supposed to be.

Merlin almost audibly sighed relief when Arthur called for a break.

This was Arthur's break though, not Merlin's. "Go fetch cold water for his highness", he grunted under his breath as he made his way towards the castle. His stomach was still aching from that one-off swerve, he lifted his hand to hold some pressure in attempt to soothe the pain. Instead he just felt warm and wet. He paused to look down at the spot of blood that was slowly growing on his shirt. Merlin looked back at his hand dripping red, and staggered, finding the wall with his orher hand to support him. His vision started growing black spots and his ears rang. Merlin was only partly aware of the impact of his knees hitting the floor, and the pain in his side.

○○○○○

How long does it take to get some water? This dollop head probably got lost in his own damn castle.

Arthur rose from the field and started walking towards the kitchens. I have to do everything my self.

When he reached the castle he noticed a Merlin shaped lump half way down the hall.

"Fell asleep on a five minute walk?" He called out. The Merlin lump didn't move. As Arthur got closer he noticed the red on the floor surrounding Merlin. At this point he began to run.

Merlin was crumpled in a pool of blood. There was so much it took a minute for Arthur to find where it was coming from. He eventually recognized a few stitches in Merlins abdomen. Stitches? It wasn't a fresh wound.

Careful about the stress he was putting on Merlins body, he picked him up and ran as well as he could with a body in his arms - Merlin was actually quite heavy - towards Gaius's chambers.

He swung the door open with his foot, not bothering to knock.

Gaius turned around startled, but paused mid-exclamation when he saw Merlin limp in Arthur's arms.

"Set him down on this table here", he said while clearing scrolls and miscellaneous bowls.

Gaius lifted Merlins shirt and started dabbing around the cut with a rag.

"Get more rags from over there and start wiping down Merlin's stomach." Gaius got alcohol and thread. "His stitches came out. I told that boy he needed time to heal. Hold this. Pour here."

Arthur did exactly as he was told.

Arthur didn't know why his heart was racing so much. When this dollop head wakes up I'm going to kill him myself. Arthur sat back beat and stared at Meflin on the table.

Gaius finished cleaning Merlins blood and fixing his stitches.

"Arthur... Arthur?" Arthur looked up and Gaius came into focus. "I suggest you also go change out of your bloody clothes."

Arthur didn't want to leave Merlins side. He continued to sit exactly where he was.

Finally Merlins eyes opened, and he groaned as he propped himself up onto his elbows.

"Gods Arthur you look awf-"

Arthur leaped up and grabbed Merlins head, cutting him off with a very strong kiss. Merlin looked surprised. He gently put his arm around Arthur as Arthur buried his face in Merlins neckerchief.

After a moment Arthur pulled away and pointed a stern finger at Merlin. "NEVER do that again", he said in his commanding king voice. Merlin just stared. His king voice never worked on Merlin. "I mean, who will wash my drawers?"

Merlin aggressively rolled his eyes but Arthur recognized the hints of a smile.

@sonamysunivers @goddessofenergy @1asbrightasthestars3 @marvelqueenhere @faiirysecret @chloethebananana @m-nerd44

A/N: this is an unserious one shot rushed fic, OP also write an amazing one <3

Tag list

If ur mentioned its bc u asked to get tagged in op's post 👍

[sweetestspence]

" late night talking "

summary: one accidental text leads to a night of mayhem, which both yn and spencer struggle to piece together pairing: s1!spencer reid x f!reader genre: fluff contains : alcohol consumption wc : 3.6k

part of the holy ground series.

You wake up to your alarm going off and sunlight streaming to your face. But before you could even register the loud incessant beeping of your alarm, the pounding sensation in your head causes you let out a quiet hiss through your teeth. You feel around the nightstand for your phone; it’s always on your nightstand, but you find it on the unoccupied pillow beside your head as you open your eyes to a squint.

“Oh my-” You sit up, your eyes wide as you take in the unfamiliar environment. Your heartbeat races in your ears, overthrowing the headache that’s creeped into your temples. Taking a peek beneath the bedsheet that covered your body, you let out a giant breath of relief once you realize you still had your clothes on. Although there’s a giant stain on your top that you don’t quite remember getting. 

The wooden floorboards are cold beneath your bare feet. A chill travels up your spine as you make your way out of the bedroom. Your last memory, albeit quite fuzzy, was texting Elle to join you at a club and you trusted yourself enough that you were actually able to do so.

“Hello?” You call out.

“Over here.”

A groggy voice answers back. Familiar, but not quite the one you were expecting to hear. Turning the corner to the living room, you find Spencer sitting up on the couch. He’s stretching his arms above his head, his expression contorted into one of discomfort.

“You’re not Elle.” You furrow your brows, blinking back a couple times to make sure you weren’t actually just seeing things. 

“Clearly, no.” Spencer hunches over, resting his elbows by his knees and threading his fingers through this hair. “What happened? How am I hungover?”

You take a seat beside him. Last night’s events are buzzy, colorful, loud haze. No matter how much you try to recall, you could only seem to come up with a blur. “The last thing I remember is texting Elle.”

“The last thing I remember is getting a text from you.” Spencer fishes his phone from his pocket to show you the text he received, only to find that it’s run out of battery. He sighs and places it on the coffee table. “Well, it was mostly indecipherable anyways. It was just a bunch of letters and numbers, which was worrying.”

“How did you know where to get me?” 

“I said mostly indecipherable.” He looks up at you with a quiet chuckle. You meet his eyes and Spencer instinctively looks away, but he’s well aware that you’re keeping your gaze on him. Perhaps it had something to do with your jobs in the FBI and the kinds of encounters you had with every case that made him worry about your wellbeing. Spencer bites his tongue on how he immediately assumed the worst when he received the text. 

“Right. Forgot you were an actual genius.” You gently nudge his shoulder with your own and it’s then your gaze falls on his hands, which are covered with band-aids. “Wait, were these there before you picked me up?”

Spencer follows your line of sight and it’s only then the slight stinging ache in his hands registers in his mind, scrunching his nose at the slight pangs of pain. While there are a couple of bandaids that covered his fingers, they’re applied haphazardly, thin light red lines peeking from beneath some of them and a few uncovered ones littered his palms. “No, they were not.”

You take his hand in yours, inspecting the scratches and lightly running your thumb over them. “The cuts are shallow, and judging by the stain around some of these, they were probably treated with an iodine solution.”

“Not well though.” Spencer’s brows are furrowed, and he lets out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding when you let his hand go. “Missed a few and the application is uneven. The stain on this one is a bit darker.”

“We need to figure out what happened. I mean, what if we did something illegal? We’re FBI agents!”

“Then we should have woken up in a holding cell.” Spencer answers without missing a beat, watching as you stand and start pacing back and forth. Your panic doesn’t exactly help in soothing his own anxieties on the events of the previous night. “And that’s the conclusion you jump to?”

His words don’t seem to reach you though, and Spencer doesn’t miss the way your eyes light up. You stop pacing and face him directly, a certain kind of determination in your tone and expression. “That’s it. We’re FBI agents, we can figure out what happened. We’ll just have to treat this like a case and retrace our steps. Close your eyes, we’ll do a cognitive interview-”

“Y/n, breathe. Let’s start by looking for clues.” He cuts you off, and you hadn’t even realized that you were running out of breath. Spencer looks around the room, his eyes landing on two identical pairs on sunglasses on the coffee table. “Look, I don’t own these.”

“I don’t either- oh god… did we steal these?!” Your voice goes octaves higher, your eyes growing wide. Spencer feels around for his wallet, which he finds in his back pocket.

“Probably not… my wallet is empty.” He frowns, placing his wallet down and picking up one of the sunglasses. “These look cheap, they wouldn’t be worth more than ten dollars each. Is there anything in your purse that might help us get a clearer picture?”

You practically sprint to the bedroom, having caught sight of it by the foot of the bed on your way out earlier. Spencer takes the time to charge his phone in an outlet by the kitchen counter, perhaps something in his messages or call history would shake his memory. His brows are furrowed and his lips are pursed. Genuinely the last thing he remembers is settling in for the night, until he got your text. Though the hangover suggests that may have had some alcohol in his system. But that doesn’t make sense. If he was there to pick you up or check for danger, he wouldn’t have willingly drunk anything, needing to be sober if he was to take you home in one piece. 

“I have a receipt for the sunglasses and some first aid supplies. It’s from the general store across the street from the club.” You hand him the receipt before continuing to rummage through your bag.

He scans through the contents of the receipt. “Okay, according to the receipt we were at the store at 2:33 am. Can you check your phone and see what time you sent me that text?”

Your phone was hanging on 10 percent with a very cracked screen and a couple of missing buttons, the sight of which gave you more questions to answer. You could hear Spencer let out a quiet ‘yikes’ the second you pulled it out of your bag. “Yikes is right… looks like I sent you that text at 1 am.”

Spencer was right when he said all you said was an almost indecipherable combination of numbers and letters, and you can’t help but wonder how in the hell he managed to figure out where to get you. 

“You got some of the letters correct. I figured since you were probably drunk, you were a few buttons off on some of them. Look, you put in an ‘A’ for ‘E’ and ‘7’ instead of ‘U’.” 

“How-”

“You’re easy to read when your guard is down.” Spencer shrugs, and before you could even ask him to elaborate he’s already brushed his own words aside. “You sent that text at one, and it’s a twenty minute trip from my apartment to the club. Fifteen if there’s no traffic, and I assume there’s none considering the time. What happened in the next hour between me arriving at the club that would lead to us buying first aid supplies?”

Silence envelops the two of you as you both tried to come up with your own theories. Spencer wonders if he had gotten into a fight, but there’s no bruising on his face or knuckles. While possible, a fight wouldn’t lead to just some shallow cuts on his hands. Why would I even get into a fight in the first place? To protect Y/n? he thinks to himself, making a quick glance at your features — clearly deep in thought. No, I wouldn’t have had to. She throws a better punch. He dismisses the thought, remembering the last case you had just worked where you decked an UnSub who was looking to get past you in an alley. Besides, you didn’t have any self defense wounds. 

Surely, there must be an easier way to get around the gap in his memory. Then it hits him. The most obvious way to find out what had happened without either of you having to bend over backwards to try and figure it out.

“Didn’t you mention you were going out with your friends…?”

“Oh god, I’m so stupid.” You mumble to yourself, gently hitting your forehead with the palm of your hand to emphasize your point. Scrolling through your contacts until you find the right one, you let out a quick sigh when the other line rings. “My friends left when they found someone to go home with- if you know what I mean. But luckily, the bartender is also a friend… Hey!”

“Y/n! How’s the hangover?” 

Spencer moves closer to you in an attempt to hear the other side of the conversation. You place your phone on speaker, but he maintains his proximity. Just close enough that his arm ever so slightly brushes against yours, but far enough to not make your heart race. 

“Josh. I need you to tell me what the hell happened last night.”

Your friend laughs at the urgency in your voice. “Do you want the detailed account or the TLDR?”

“TLDR?” Spencer asks, leaning closer towards you, his voice low.

“It means ‘too long, didn’t read’. It’s basically slang for a summary of something.” You reply just as quietly. Turning your attention back to your phone, “Considering I’m about to run out of battery, I think TLDR would be good for now.”

“Got it. Well, after Mia and Liv left you said you were going to invite your friend Elle to join you instead. But then this guy Dr Reid shows up and says that he works with you. Is he…”

“Yeah.” Spencer clears his throat. “I’m here.”

“Nice to meet you, man! Anyways, he tries to get you to come home with him because you’re so clearly plastered and you two have work. You said that you don’t want to go home with someone sober. Fast forward a few shots later and Dr Reid feels bad for knocking over a bunch of empty glasses on the bar and he tries to pick them up.”

“That explains the cuts on my hand.” Spencer comments.

“Mhmm. Since I ran out of supplies, I offered to walk with the two of you to the store across the street to treat his cuts. You insisted on being the one to help him. I stayed until you finished putting on the bandaids and got you both in a cab.”

You follow each word that escapes Josh’s lips and you couldn’t help the embarrassment that flooded your veins. You hadn’t known Spencer for too long and you had already caused him far more trouble than you believe you were worth. You squeezed your eyes shut tighter and tighter with each passing second, letting out a breath of relief once it was all over. You still don’t know where the large stain on your top was from, or why you had chosen to buy sunglasses along with the first aid supplies The only thing you knew was that you owed Spencer the biggest apology. 

“Why did I buy sunglasses?”

“You kept complaining about not having any to take to the field.”

“Why are there two?”

“You exclaimed, pretty loudly might I add, that they looked good on Dr. Reid so you got him a pair too.” 

“You’re lying…” You mumble, forgetting that Spencer was just a couple of feet beside you, and using your free hand to cover your face. “Did I happen to spill anything on myself too?”

“Nope.” Josh chuckles, loud and breathy, causing your embarrassment to multiply tenfold. “Listen, Y/n. I gotta go. I’ll talk to you later, alright?”

“Sure. Thanks, by the way.”

“No problem.”

He hangs up and you turn to Spencer with a small, sheepish smile. “I guess that solves one mystery.”

“There’s still the matter of that stain on your top, so we made one more stop before we got here.” Spencer’s brows are furrowed, his gaze trained on you. He moves to stand in front of you to get a better look. “It doesn’t look like mud or dirt. I think it might be coffee… you know, there’s a diner not too far from here.”

Before you could offer making a quick trip to confirm his hypothesis, his phone lights up from the kitchen counter. His ringtone cuts through both your trains of thought. Sneaking a peek at the caller ID, an immediate sense of dread fills your senses. You look at Spencer wide-eyed and his expression mimics yours as he weaves his way around his furniture to answer his phone.

“Hey, uh, Hotch.” Spencer didn’t mean for his voice to shake as much as it did, or to grip the phone as tightly.

“Good. You’re awake. Is L/n up as well?”

“Ye- wait, you know she’s here?”

Spencer’s eyes widen to a degree you didn’t even know was possible, which only increased the panic that flowed through your veins. You raise your brows and mouth an exaggerated ‘what is he saying?’. He puts his phone on speaker and waves you over, but you stay rooted to your spot. 

“I’m sure you’ll forgive me for giving her the bed.” There’s nothing in Hotch’s voice to indicate anger or frustration, though you could hear the slightest bit of disappointment. You imagine him on the other end of the call, his lips pressed into a thin line. “You’re expected at the office in an hour. The team needs both of you at your best. Sort out your hangovers or whatever it is you need before that. Got it?”

“Yes, sir. Um- I was just wondering-”

 Aaron sighs. “You’re both lucky we didn’t get called in last night. Check your call history, Reid. You called me and I found you and L/n at four in the morning engaged in an arm wrestling competition. On the way back, you gave her all the cash in your wallet because you lost. Do I even want to know the rest of the night’s events?”

You shake your head and Spencer answers for both of you. “No, sorry for the trouble.”

“Just make sure it never happens again.”

“It won’t-”

“If it does and you’re going to need an early morning pick-up at some random diner, at least get Anderson to do it.”

Both of you hear the call disconnect, leaving you and Spencer in a stunned silence. A beat passes, and the two of you make eye contact. 

“Did Hotch just make a joke?” You ask your question slowly, as if you couldn’t believe it yourself. You’re not too sure if Spencer heard it either, but you swear you could hear the ghost of a smile in the latter half of his sentence. 

“You know I-” He pauses, actually considering the question. Spencer looks down at his feet, just for the quickest of seconds, before looking up at you. “I can never tell with him.”

He says it earnestly. But you could tell in the way the corners of his mouth flicked upwards, in the way he tried to suppress a smile, that he was somewhat joking too. Spencer didn’t seem to be the type to make a jest on Hotch’s seeming stoicism to his face, despite how close the team was. Not to mention, you were still quite new too. The fact that he was comfortable enough with you to make a small jab at your chief warms your heart.

So you let out a chuckle, and he joins you, and in just a few seconds it turns into full blown laughter. Mostly at the absurdity of the events of the previous night. It’s not lost on either of you that both of you were the last two people on the team to have such an experience. If you were betting on it, your money would have been on Morgan or Elle.  

“I should get going.” Your laughter dies down, realizing you were against the clock and JJ might call you in earlier than expected. You grab your purse and head to the door, walking as quickly as you can without tripping on your own two feet. “I think I can squeeze in a quick shower at my apartment and a trip to the coffee shop in an hour.”

“Before you leave, you should uh-” Spencer’s voice stops you in his tracks. He gestures to the stain on your top before handing you the cardigan he’s wearing. “get that covered up.”

You gratefully accept the cardigan and put it on, making a mental note to get it washed before returning it to him. Just as your hand makes contact with the doorknob, Spencer calls out your name.

He’s standing by the coffee table, and he tosses you one of the cheap plastic sunglasses neither of you remember buying. You catch it with ease, a proud smile spreading across your face in doing so. For a moment, flashes of the previous night flood through his mind. Blurry images of you cheering him on as he downed another shot, you absentmindedly dancing around streetlights, you gently blowing on the cuts on his hand, the same proud smile on your face as you beat him at arm wrestling.

“I think I had fun.” Like always, Spencer chooses his words wisely. He’s not too sure if the images he conjured in his head are real, or merely suggested by the retellings of Hotch and your friend. He likes to believe they are, and he bites his tongue on more of what he wants to say. Hopefully next time, I remember. I hope there’s a next time. Nights like the one you just had are a rarity for him, and he didn’t exactly mind the experience if you were there too. 

“Same time next week?” You tease, putting on the sunglasses. 

“Oh no.” He shakes his head, walking towards the front door so he could see you out. “I’m taking an indefinite hiatus from nights I can’t remember.”

“And here I thought you had some sort of super memory.”

“I have an eidetic memory, which accounts for the things I read.” Spencer corrects, now standing just a couple of feet in front of you. “Which was unhelpful in this scenario. We still don’t know why your phone’s broken.”

“I wanted to get a new one anyway.. oh, here.” You’re halfway out the door when you remember the loose bills in your purse — the ones you had won from your little arm wrestling bet. It didn’t feel right to keep them when neither of you even remember making a deal in the first place. You take them out and hand it to him. “and… uh, thanks. For you know, showing up.”

“Anytime.” Spencer means it. You had only been part of the team for a couple of months at that point, but he responds without missing a beat. Showing up for his team members is a part of the job, and you were no exception to that. As long as you called, he’d show up.

He knew it was true for everyone. Hotch coming to the diner to get both of you was proof of that too.

“I’ll see you later then.”

“See you.”

You leave him with one final thankful smile and Spencer closes the door with a gentle click. He makes his way back to the kitchen, where his phone had been halfway charged at that point. Sure enough, he’s made several calls to Hotch and one to Morgan. He sees the text you sent him and a wrinkled piece of paper on the farthest corner of the room, the one he used to decipher your message. When he checks his gallery, on the off chance he’s accidentally taken photos throughout the night that might help jog his memory, Spencer finds a picture of both of you. 

It’s most likely taken by your friend Josh. You’re both sitting on the sidewalk, and he suspects it was taken during the time you were waiting for a cab. You’re wearing the sunglasses you had just bought and he’s used his own matching pair to push his hair back. You have an arm slung around his shoulders, pulling him closer, and he has a peace sign up and could barely keep his eyes open. Both of you clearly drunk out of your minds, but wide grins plastered on both your faces.

It’s first clear memory he has of the previous night, and the thought of which makes Spencer smile as he makes his morning coffee.

[ The smile disappears as soon as he gets a text from Morgan saying : ooooh heard from Hotch the wonder twins had a crazy night… did you get lucky pretty boy? ;) ]

a/n. this part turned out much longer than i expected it to be... but i hope you enjoyed ! thank you for all the kind words and the support i received on the first part, and this series in general. i'd really love to know what you think hehe !!

[endlessburningdarkness]

Tempted to do a post maigu ridge fic where Shen Yuan isn't magically untruamatized from his experience and the peak lords don't let him run out to the person they believe to be the reason for his death and alarming injuries.

And a Luo Binghe that without the influence of Xin Mo is wracked with terrible guilt for harming his Shizun and seeks punishment for his sins. Even if he wasn't in control, he should have died before harming his beloved! Luo Qingge is more than happy to deliver it for him, cue public whipping as punishment.

Shen Yuan is horrified but his protests fall on deaf ears, even Luo Binghe gently refuses to resist the punishment. It's alright Shizun, he deserves it. Shen Yuan eventually hits on punishing Luo Binghe himself as a solution. He'll be gentler than Liu Qingge. The whole thing is his fault anyway and so he should take responsibility.

Luo Binghe vehemently disagrees and tries to convince him otherwise, Shizun shouldn't sully himself like that! but Shen Yuan's stubborn will is even stronger than the protagonist halo and teary eyes. (Shen Yuan actually has his own protagonist halo) And Luo Binghe can't pretend it doesn't appeal to him.

If Luo Binghe wants to be punished, its only right that his Shizun be the one to do it.

Shen Yuan battles nightmares of maigu ridge, and an irrational new fear of his beloved. He knows it's not logical, but he can't help it. His body remembers the pain and doesn't comprehend logic or language. It can't be ordered to behave the way that he wants it to.

Luo Binghe weeps on his knees when Shen Yuan wakes up screaming and tries to leave, he can't sleep in the same bed as Shizun if it results in this! Shen Yuan has to grab him and hold him there. Weepy apologies ensue on both sides. Shen Yuan thinks exposure to the source of his fear will cure him. Isn't that how they cure phobias? (it's not)

They fall into a non-sexual power exchange wherein Shen Yuan deals with his trauma by learning that Luo Binghe will obey him completely, and Luo Binghe deals with his guilt and fear by handing control over to him and receiving punishment.

The other peak lords are reluctantly gratified that Luo Binghe is receiving punishment and making up for his wrongs. He goes around and heals the crippled cultivators with his demon blood. Arranges a demon vs cultivator tournament so both sides can fight it out without innocents being harmed.

Shen Yuan slowly de-tangles his sexuality when he becomes aroused at Luo Binghe's submission to his will. A latent sadistic streak rears its head, nurtured on by a Luo Binghe who both enjoys pain and believes this is the only way Shizun will touch him. He's surprised and feels even more guilty when Shen Yuan takes care of him after the punishments.

Shen Yuan starts to have wet dreams, and is forced to resort to masturbation to deal with them. Despite waiting for months and bracing himself, (he can handle it now!) Luo Binghe won't touch him, terrified of losing control again.

The nightmares fade as Shen Yuan's faith in Luo Binghe's iron will to never harm him again solidifies into certainty. He even tries walking around underdressed, and protagonist still doesn't jump him! He has to find a way to conceal his arousal during punishments, and he can no longer ignore how much Luo Binghe enjoys them.

His own desires grow and grow until he's so sexually frustrated, he makes the first move. It's been a whole year since that terrible day, Binghe, let this master teach you how to kiss. Tentatively they begin to court, much to the relief of their colleagues, who are tiring of all the pining glances, wistful sighs and rock-solid obliviousness. It's about time!

After months of frustration watching Luo Binghe spar, and bend over and submit and get hard during his punishment. Shen Yuan learns he must communicate exactly what he wants, so he can finally get some relief.

Maybe they have a wedding, arranged by a collaboration between cultivators and demons, the many fighting tournaments resulted in something like friendship as the two cultures met together frequently. Even Liu Qingge throws flower petals over them. He and Luo Binghe have bonded over how difficult it is to keep Shen Yuan from getting hurt, and are sort of frenemies now.

this is one of my reluctant sadist shen yuan ideas...

[acapelladitty]

a lesson learned

Summary - After a failed attempt to escape being owned by Roman Sionis, he brings in the infamous Scarecrow to help correct such behaviours. (2.1k words)

(tw: sexual slavery, non-con, sa, whipping, mentions of previous abuse, restraints, open for a sequel)

Fic Masterlist ☆ Link to AO3 ☆ Kofi

Trying to escape Roman had been a foolish dream at best and Violet’s panicked eyes took in the scene before her as she struggled against the hard wood of the ‘x’ shaped restraint she had been placed against and strapped into. Her head throbbed, a delayed pain of the earlier blow which Roman had delivered to her skull, and her vision was bleary as her gaze darted between the two men who observed her with sadistic glee.

"Stupid bitch needs a lesson in manners." Roman spoke, directing his words to the man who stood by his side - his impressive height looming over Romans’ own. "She needs to know never to fuck with me again and I thought you would be the perfect solution to help 'correct' her bad behaviour, Dr Crane."

"Of course, Mr. Sionis." In full costume minus his mask, Jonathan Crane cut a terrifying figure and Violet sobbed into her fabric gag as she listened to them speak. "I'm always happy to lend my professional assistance with difficult patients. This one is even prettier than the last. How would you like her?"

"Broken and obedient, but not totally fucked up like the last one. She had to be sold at a reduced price because of all that babbling that your chemical shit snapped her into."

Ignoring the criticism, Crane nodded. "Modifications?"

"Eh," Roman shrugged, blowing out a puff of smoke from his cigar, "nothing nasty to look at. Maybe just the usual stuff that will make it hard for her to see herself as anything but a fuck toy to be used and abused.”

"Simple enough, Mr. Sionis. And I trust you will be joining me to assist in my work?"

"Of course. Maroni is up to some shit these days so I've been needing to keep an eye on him. I could use the opportunity to blow off some steam by listening to this stupid bitch scream.”

"Perfect. Then I suppose I'll begin my initial examination now."

Having been forced to listen to their entire exchange, Violet’s body shook violently. The last month had been a living hell, her forced abduction as she travelled home from work being only the beginning of her torments – a fact which quickly became known to her as she awoke in some kind of holding pen which housed two other women. They had been the ones to tell her of her new reality, a reality of her being little more than a sex object to be trained and used by anyone her new owner saw fit.

It was information which had sent her into a spiral of despair, her body thrashing and screaming out as it pummelled the iron door which kept her from freedom. In fact, she had kicked up such a fuss that her new owner had personally come to pay her a visit and check out his latest merchandise.

Roman Sionis, alias Black Mask.

He had been terrifying, standing tall as his goons dragged her from her holding cell and took her to one of the training rooms – an experience which still made her shudder to this day as they each took turns in using the various tools and instruments which Roman has collected to discipline his toys. It was an encounter which broke something within Violet, their abuse of her body and use of her various holes leaving her a sobbing, aching mess who had then been unceremoniously flung back into the holding pen as the other woman glanced at her with open fear.

But still, despite it all, after weeks of being forced into the most degrading and painful sex acts as an amusement for Roman and his various friends, Violet had gathered the strength to attempt an escape and had barely managed to make it past the second security door before she found herself taking a harsh baton to the stomach. A blow which winded her in an instant and made her drop to her knees, unable to do anything but struggle to breathe – it was almost a relief when the dark boot of the guard collided with her head and knocked her clean out.

The bliss of unconsciousness didn’t last forever though and awaking tied to this cross – her entire body nude and on display for the two master criminals who stood before her – had been almost as terrible as everything else she had been forced to endure.

She knew who the Scarecrow was, everyone in Gotham did, and to have him bearing down on her for a ‘medical’ examination made her heart stutter in her chest as the gag in her mouth held back her desperate pleas.

His hands were gloved, the digits long and thin as they pinched and groped at her body – sizing her up like a fresh slab of meat, like cattle at a market. He paid particular attention to her tits and plucked at her nipples until they were aching and reddened as she trembled in place.

“Lovely tits, don’t you think?” Roman interrupted, palming his cock through his slacks as he pulled a fresh cigar from his inner pocket, quickly lighting it up as he watched Crane with a cruel expression.

“Quite the specimen,” Crane agreed and Violet’s body stiffened in place as his thin fingers dropped from her tits to thrust unceremoniously up her sex, the two fingers feeling rough and extremely uncomfortable given her lack of preparation. “Receptive and responsive too,” he continued as his fingers pumped within her cunt for a few moments before pulling out just as roughly.

Crane’s fingers, the same ones which had just been within her, gripped at Violet’s chin as he forced her to meet his gaze.

“Do you think we should allow her to choose?”

“Nah, fuck her. Use the cable,” Roman replied, blowing out a thick puff of smoke as Violet thrashed against her restraints at the words.

The cable was a thin piece of wire, folded over on itself to create a loop which stung like hell as it tore into the skin of its victim and Violet had only experiences it once, the day after she arrived, as Roman – in his own words – gave her a taste of her life to come.

Seeing the cable in Crane’s hand as he picked it up from the table which housed all of Roman’s toys, Violet sobbed as he approached – stuttered pleas for mercy falling onto deaf ears as Crane paused for a second to drink in her misery before beginning her punishment.

The swish of the folded cable registered for only a moment before pain exploded across her thighs and she cried out, the sting of the wire red hot against her exposed skin. With no time to recover, she screamed as the cable struck again and her ankles pulled against the unforgiving restraints.

Miserable, Violet’s own sobs almost choked her as she thrashed against the cross. Crane was meticulous in his work, painting everything from her thighs to her tits and stomach with his swings – the exertion making him pant as he shifted his body to achieve new angles and reach new skin. Fire flashed across her skin, every targeted area an inferno of agony and heat as the thin wire instantly welted her flesh. Lost in the unyielding sensation, at one point she swore she felt something wet trickly down her leg and she knew the skin there had broken under the assault.

Crane stopped eventually and Violet fell weakly against her restraints, her body limp and roaring with agony as she observed her welted flesh through teary eyes. Her body hadn’t been whipped in some time, enough for all the previous marks to have fully healed up, and the fresh skin bore the brunt of her punishment without mercy.

Loose against her restraints as her body wavered on the edge of consciousness, Violet didn’t have long to wait though, as Roman moved quickly.

His hands were firm as they ripped the restraints free of her wrists and ankles, his nails clawing into his skin as he pinned her skin in place to get the metal free. Now free, Violet dropped to the floor with a solid thud but any attempt to scramble away from their punishments was impossible as Roman immediately fell on her like a rabid dog.

Violet shuddered as he entered her, his cock immediately sinking deep into her cunt without any care for her comfort. It hurt, his rough fucking almost like he was trying to drive her though the floor as he took the opportunity to grip her hips so hard that she knew the skin there would be bruised. It was just another humiliation and the chill of the ground was welcomed against her heated face as she slammed her eyes shut and held as still as she could.

Her face pressed against the floor, Violet could only endure as Roman brutally fucked away at her stinging sex, his every thrust igniting fresh heat in the whip marks which littered her body as her skin was dragged across the cold flooring.

“You want some sloppy seconds, Dr?” Roman snarled as he plunged his cock without mercy. “Or you could fuck her ass if you want? She won’t mind.”

“As tempting as your offer is, I will decline at this moment.”

Thankful, Violet turned her eyes far enough to catch Crane’s face but any hope that he was a better man than the monster fucking her was snuffed out in an instant as she took in the tent of his groin and the amusement in his gaze as he watched her suffer.

With a stuttering groan, Roman came and Violet shuddered as she felt the heat of his release filling her while he scored his nails across her welted skin. Anything to cause her more discomfort as she whimpered and squealed under his punishing hands and cock. But he pulled free just as quickly as he had entered her and she groaned in discomfort as she took in the ache of her sex and the stinging heat of her whipped skin.

Violet lay out on the floor, unable to move and much too afraid to even attempt it and her eyes slammed shut as she heard the steady movement of feet and the zip of Roman’s fly as he tucked his stained cock away.

“Y’know, if she wasn’t such a tight fuck, I’d probably have sold her off to Valentin or some other freak for her disobedience. She’s one lucky cunt and I don’t even think she appreciates it.”

“Spare the rod, spoil the child, Mr Sionis.” Violet heard Crane agree. “I think you’re more that capable of correcting her behaviours and I am always delighted to offer my services.”

“Speaking of which, I know you’ve still got to get your cock wet so let’s get going.”

Two pairs of hands wrapped around her quivering body and Violet screamed in surprise as both men pulled her to her feet and slammed her against the cross which she had only just been released from. The wood was rough against her back and Violet only tried to struggle once against the hands, a movement which was immediately put to rest by Roman’s gloved hand as it cracked hard against her jaw – sending her head ricocheting to the side as she howled in pain.

Violet felt the cold metal of the shackles as they once again fully restrained her to the cross. Her sore pussy continued to leak Roman’s release and it spread messily across her thighs as she writhed in place against the wood. She had been punished and her skin bore the brunt of those marks, not to mention the aches which littered her face due to the various blows which Roman had previously delivered.

“Pl-please let me go?” She asked once more – knowing the words were meaningless to both men but being unable to help herself as Roman stepped back from her position. “Please? I won't run, won't be bad again.”

At her request, Roman laughed and the cruelty in his voice made her heart drop into her stomach.

“Let you go? Oh, you are one stupid whore. More stupid than I thought,” Roman chastised as he drummed his gloved fingers along the wooden table which housed his various tools of torment and toys. “You think a little light whipping and a good fuck are all the punishment you’re getting? Dumb cunt.”

Throwing up a casual thumb which indicated off to the side, Roman smirked viciously and Violet followed his direction to find Crane standing with an equally sadistic expression. Eyeing up the small pot of thin needles which Crane held within his hands with utter horror, Violet screamed and screamed until her lungs started to burn as she understood that far from being over, her time with both men had barely begun.

[ribbonsaikeaux]

Chlesea grips Agnes' dress as she falls to her knees; wincing in pain. Salty tears pour from her bloodshot hazel eyes and sting the bloody cracks in her skin. Every movement is pure agony as the cracks spread and grow; blood seeping from each creating their own makeshift representaion of lightning before glistening rubies drip to the floor, forming crimson puddles. She screams out as the cracks in the flesh of her knees deepen and expose ivory bone. The pain is too much and, no longer being able to support herself, she collapses to the floor. Another anguished scream escapes her throat, the resevoirs of blood creaking and expanding.

"Wh-why wont i-i-it stoooop?!" She wails, staring up at Agnes for answers.

Agnes frowns, kneeling down beside her. The pools of blood staining her lilac dress.

"There is a solution, but youre going to have to trust me." She says softly, tenderly resting a shaking hand on her loves' head.

Cheslea wails at the touch, spasming away from the offending hand and whimpering. Agnes quickly pulls her hand away in shock, tears forming in her soft blue eyes

"I-i do!" She manages to choke out as the blood from the cracks in her lips floods her throat.

"Last question, i promise." Agnes says as she leans down and whispers in Chelseas' ear, which is only barely attached at this moment. "Do you love me?"

Chealsea nods; choking out a weak, gurgling "Always..."

Smiling at the wretched pile of blood and pain beneath her, Agnes gingerly pokes Chelseas' forehead.

Chelsea explodes into a dazzling shower of flesh, bone, and organs. However, time grinds to a halt and the myriad of pieces start morphing and twisting. The chunks of skin taking on a marble white appearance, hardening in the air. Her organs likewise hardening, leaving glistening brass gears floating in the air. Her bones creak and crack as they become a sturdy steel skeleton.

All in an instant, each piece snaps back. The skeleton rigidly moving into place; the many gears surround it, interlocking and slowly starting to whir to life. Finally, the porcelaine shell adorns the new, mechanical internals.

However, it is imperfect. The once bloody cracks remain; leaving snaking, root like openings in her otherwise flawless body. However, streams of gold start to fill in the cracks; connecting each piece with a brilliant, golden glow.

The newly minted doll slowly sits up, trying to aclimate to its' foreign form. It looks around confused, but relieved that its' endless agony seems to have vanished.

Agness smiles, resting a hand on its' head and gently nuzzles its' cheek.

"From now on, you will be known as Daisy, my beloved." She says, relief and joy dripping from her voice like ambrosia to Daisys' ears.

In that instant, everying falls into place for it. It exclaims excitedly, unable to hold back its' elation to be named and loved and no longer enduring such torture.

Beaming, it leaps forward into the tightest embrace it can manage in its' unfamiliar body.

"Thank you my love! Thank you thank you thank you!" It exclaims gratefully, looking up at Agness with adoration radiating from its' eyes.

Agness holds Daisy tightly, resting her head on its'.

"I love you Daisy." She says, smiling reasuringly. "Now and forever."

"And i, you, my heart and soul."

[arihi]

Abuse >:) I won't even toggle anon

(CW: Abusive dynamics and abuse (per the prompt) - skip if that's not your thing!)

“Again.”

I flinched instinctively, my stomach dropping when I heard laughter instead of the tell-tale snap of a riding crop and the associated pain. I felt nothing but deadened, faded welts, the chill of the floor against my knees, and a queasiness in the pit of my stomach.

“Oh darling,” Trina cooed. “What’s the matter?”

“N-Nothing,” I stammered lamely. I pulled my wrists against the restraints, the chains clacking against the pipes and the sounds echoing throughout the basement.

“Why it almost seemed…” She ran her fingers gently down the raised welts across my chest. “…like you didn’t like me.”

“That’s not true!” I blurted out. “I love you, Trina, I do, I just-” I hated disappointing her. “…Can we maybe move out of the basement at least? It’s cold and I like your bed better,” I pleaded in a desperate attempt to have boundaries. And yet, that wasn’t what I really wanted. My skin burned, my muscles ached at the position I had been holding for what felt like hours, and I was ready to stop. I never even wanted to start it, at least not tonight.

But starting here could be the first step.

“Baby, you know I can’t do that.” Trina looked concerned. “Last time, well…you know you’re a screamer, right?” She played at shyness, though I knew she had delighted in my screams at the time. “Last time we were playing, the neighbors heard, and that was a whole thing…and you’ve only just barely made up for it.” Her eyes looked like they were shimmering with tears.

The queasiness again. I looked back down. “…I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay.” She pet my hair soothingly. “That’s why we’re down here.”

“I—” I swallowed a lump in my throat. Asserting boundaries. No is a complete sentence. My comfort is a priority. “I don’t want to…'play' anymore. Can we be done? A-at least tonight?” Hesitation had crept through into my voice in the last sentence, but that was the most I had said as a challenge to her in what felt like ages, and a part of me was proud.

“You what?” Trina frowned.

I grimaced from the wave of nausea that slammed into my battered body. Alarm bells went off in my brain, as if I’d made a horrible mistake, as if I’d just committed such a grievous wrong that the very core of my being shuddered in disgust.

“I just mean, I mean we’ve been doing this for a while, and aren’t you tired? We could both take a break!” I desperately recanted, anything to get rid of that feeling.

She stood there, frowning at me, my physical discomfort growing exponentially, my body attempting to curl inwards in agony, if only my arms hadn’t been tied to the pipes.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” I started mumbling, tears wetting my cheeks. “I won’t do it again.” Shame and humiliation and a rush of chemical pleasure flooded my veins, my body sinking into a sigh of relief, the pleasurable throbbing of my body. Fuck.

“That’s a good girl.” Her face broke out into a wide smile. “I’m so glad you understand. You know, I hate being mad at you. And it’s not right for a relationship to just be one-sided. Fighting is healthy for relationships. I want you to be able to challenge me on things, and then when you’re done and we both come to a solution, I want it to feel good for you. Do you understand?”

“Yes, yes,” I whimpered, my toes curled and fists balled up trying to bear the pleasure that threatened to overwhelm me.

“Aw baby, it’s okay!” Her sickly-sweet voice dug its claws into me, comforted the inner turmoil in my mind. “Just relax, okay? I know you’re so good at doing that for me. Doesn’t it feel better to just, drop it? To relax?”

“Yeeesss…” It came from the back of my throat in one long sigh, like I was relieving my stress and losing a part of myself with every deep breath. It came from the back of my throat like all the other times I’d said yes to her, like all the times I agreed, all the times I relented…

“What’s this?” She swatted at my crotch with the crop lightly, the fabric of my underwear sticking to my skin. “Are you getting turned on by this?” She spat out with a sneer.

…Like all the times I came.

My ears burned. “I—”

“Sweetie, sweetie.” Trina’s voice softened again. “It’s okay, to like the things that you like. No one can judge you here, okay?” She hugged me gently as I leaned my tired body against her legs.

“But, out there…those neighbors,” she whispered, saddened. “Who knows what they’d tell people if they knew what you did? What you were into? What got you so fucking wet?” She ripped the thin, flimsy fabric from me, the coolness of the air on my slick skin a stark contrast to how feverish my head felt. “It’d be bad, right?” I nodded against her absentmindedly.

“Then we can’t tell anyone, right?” She knelt and met me at eye-level, face to face. “We can never tell anyone about your deepest desires? Your shames?”

“No…” I sighed, a part of my soul fading away with my breath.

“It’s better not to tell anyone about what goes on in this household really, people can be so nosy.” She rolled her eyes with a grin.

“Yes…” My body felt heavier than it’d ever been, my eyes threatening to close.

“Good.” For a brief second her eyes softened, a genuine, small smile on her face. Those were the fleeting moments I lived for. I knew she was a good person who just played at being harsh. Because I was asking for it. Because I deserved it. Because she loved me. Right?

Her eyes lit up in rapturous glee. “Well, without further ado.” She jammed the discarded panties into my mouth, her fingers uncomfortably prying my jaw open as I choked on the fabric being stuffed into the back of my throat.

“Remember, no screaming.”

---

(a short story for sleepingirl, a wicked pervert)

[ordonianhero]

The doctor that had examined every single one of the others finally ducked into Sky’s vision to speak to him. Her expression was soft and a little sad.

“If I remember right, your nickname is Sky. Is that right?” She waited until Sky gave a verbal response before continuing. “So I’ve made sure each of your brothers don’t have any injuries. Would it be ok if we also checked on you?” It was a long while before Sky finally realized she was going to wait for an answer and he gave it in the affirmative. They had to do some coaxing to get Sky’s chainmail off, but with that literal weight off him, Sky relaxed just a little in Time’s arms.

“Now, Sky. I need you to be honest with me. I can have these two leave if you don’t want them to hear it. How are you feeling?”

Sky tightened his grip on Wind at the mention of them leaving. “No. Please…” he pleaded.

“It’s ok, Cucco.” Wind assured. “I’m not going anywhere if you don’t want me to.”

It fell silent again as the doctor patiently waited for Sky to answer.

“My leg hurts.” He finally admitted. “It hurts to put weight on it or… anything.” She carefully examined the limb. He tried not to cry as she touched it or manipulated his knee and ankle to test movement.

“How long ago did it break?”

“Two days?” Honestly he didn’t remember. Time moved behind him and her attention flickered to that shift, then nodded.

“We can fix it. We can make it so you’ll be able to walk without pain.” She promised, then hesitated. “But we will have to re-break it so it can be set properly.” He knew he hadn’t done it right. He knew that’s why it hurt so much. He nodded. Both the others shifted trying to soothe him and Sky felt a rush of gratitude for their presence.

“Please. Do what you have to.”

He didn’t pass out. Hylia above it would have been a relief, but he still had stamina fruit and Wild’s crazy concoction going through his system and they kept him going. His leg was set, and with the chime of a fairy, that pain that had been tormenting him for days finally vanished. They encased his leg in a splint anyway, the doctor explaining it would provide some support while everything was still brittle and bruised and would need time to heal. His battered wrists, shoulders, and ankles were all examined. The half-healed cuts were checked for signs of infection. Sprains and strains, nothing else broken, just everything ached.

“Sky is there anything else that’s bothering you?” He had no energy to filter his words. They slipped out before he could think about them.

“I’m so tired. I don’t want to be conscious anymore. Being awake hurts…” He felt the other two heroes react to that. He’d said too much. “I’m sorry. It’s… I’m tired and sore. That’s all.”

“Well I can certainly do something about pain. And we can try a sedative and see if that helps you sleep.”

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” Sky apologized profusely as the doctor left the room with the promise of coming back with both pain relief and a sedative.

“It’s ok, Chickadee.” He shifted to take Sky’s weight off Wind and rubbed Sky’s shoulder in an attempt to soothe. It was really a measure of just how bad it was if Sky was admitting to… anything. He hated this part, knowing that one of his boys was hurting and there was nothing he could do. But also, Sky didn’t know about the mirror, he didn’t know that they’d heard and seen nearly everything. Wind spoke up, pulling Sky’s attention into a story to distract him until the doctor came back.

“This one first for pain.” The relief was quick. Sky cried once the solution took effect, the muscles shaking with tension finally relaxed.

“And this one will help you sleep.” Time ended up taking the vial from the doctor to get Sky to take it and rocked the boy until he finally fell asleep

Hi, this is what I’ve written recently regarding comfort. Hope it’s ok?

It’s perfect. Thank you