#She doesn’t have any plans for a cure

[freaky-funky]

blight caller design (Cw for burn marks)

Blightcaller design (she/her)

her entire half side of her body looks like this. Her chest is literally just a massive burn scar (for her own doing and self experimentation.)

[skoulsons]

He didn’t care about the giraffes.

He??? Didn’t care??? About the giraffes???

[bakugoushotwife]

a/n: omg heyyy i make my grand return with my humble offering to @ohkento 's reddit theme collab!! i also have a piece for shouto coming up next, but here is the first one!! i took a while off after kinktober so if this is bad....lie to me!

warnings: dark content. nsfw. no minors. yandere theme gojo, no physical harm to reader, baby trapping, threats (not to reader), female reader, breeding, pentration, oral (fem!receiving), reader is kinda dumb lol.

summary: STORYTIME: I (28M) CAN'T STOP BREEDING MY GIRL BEST FRIEND (28F)!! it's a serious problem...i'm really reaching my breaking point here. i've been in love with this chick since high school and she keeps chasing other guys...but fucking me when the dates go wrong, help!

it’s been his dirty little secret since his years at tokyo tech. you’ve always been a looker, never were you short on attention from lesser men that aren’t worth your time—and yes, that includes when geto crushed on you all through the second year of school. but they never were quite what you were looking for, and every night of passion or attempt at a meaningful connection always ended the same—dialing up your closest confidant satoru to come console you and stuff your cunt full and wipe your tears–to make it better, like best friends do. 

satoru was all too aware of your little predicament, because he had struggled with the same issues–except he realized his fate years ago and was determined to have it. you are his and his alone, no matter how many scrubs that try to take you from him. if only you would open your eyes. you were obviously hopelessly in love with him, of course—that’s why no one could compare! and that’s why you always turned your teary eyes and pretty pussy to him after yet another date gone wrong. he knew he was the only cure, and he’s given up on hoping you’d see the truth for yourself. 

he tried to play the patience card, licking your tears off your face as he pounds his love into you, telling you that you’re worth so much more than those guys you keep letting break your heart. he tried being the nice guy that holds you after yet another promising prospect never texts you back–buying you dinner and bouncing you on his cock until you were crying from pleasure instead of heartbreak. each time, he buried his load in your womb until it was spilling out around him—hoping to give you no other choice but to pack your bags and move onto his estate to further the gojo clan with the very man at the head of it, but it seems your ovaries were just as stubborn as you are. he didn’t know how much more of this he could stomach—just waiting to be your knight in shining armor while laying in bed at night, staring at the pictures of you, both lewd and cute alike while wondering just how long it would take to have you laying beside him in his bed instead of the pixels on his phone screen. 

he’s had enough. it’s clear his plan isn’t working as designed. you must be on birth control—which is both irritating yet complimentary to him. of course you wouldn’t let these bums knock you up. is it insulting that this applies to his seed too? of course, but then again the whole dynamic was rather insulting wasn’t it? fucking other men and crying to him about it when they aren’t the perfect man for you. no shit—no man will ever know you like he does. none of them could ever compete with the life he could give you if you would just face the music. he doesn’t get it either. why bother? why look elsewhere? obviously you’re attracted to each other—so why won’t you make the next natural jump and stop it with the drama-packed weekly bachelorette episodes?

that’s okay. it’s really fine. satoru is such a good friend that he’ll help you, like he always does. he would simply help you to the conclusion that he wants and then everything can proceed according to plan! it shouldn’t be too difficult anyway, you’ll be calling any moment now! you had a date with yet another sure disappointment that gojo knows will desert you as soon as the date is finished. he’ll be dry and boring after the promising conversations you had in the days leading up to the date—you’ll be confused yet again—and the guy won’t pay either, set for split-bill city. gojo knows all of this because he’s ensured that’s what happens, of course! and this is the thirty-sixth man he’s had to pay off to show up to the date and forget about you. a price he’s more than willing to pay no matter how high, though it’s definitely added up over the years. and you know what—now that he thinks of it, none of them deserve you because their weak nature and corrupt morals. he’s been proven right every time, each one of these bottom feeders would take the money no questions asked—maybe that was due to his threats of horrific death if they so much as answered a text message from you again, but who could be sure? 

this one was especially easy to pay off, too. he didn’t even think twice about taking the money. it almost makes gojo mad. he clearly wasn’t heartbroken to walk away from you, and god you deserved so much better. you deserve a man that is willing to pay off any and every suitor that comes into your life just to make you his. you deserve a man so crazy about you he can hardly recognize himself. you deserve…well, him. he’s devoted himself to you for over a decade and it’s time for that to pay off.

your unique ringtone gets him out of his own head to answer, and of course, you’re crying and asking him to come over. pretty girls like you never learn, huh? that’s all forgiven though, as he is a teacher and it’s his passion to help you understand. 

“of course sugar. i’ll be right over. mhm–don’t mention it. that’s what friends are for.” he hums to you over his end of the phone, picking up his car keys to make it to you in record time. you’re your same beautiful self as you answer the door and welcome him inside, though he can see the tear tracks staining your face. it makes him pout a little at the sight no matter how used to it he is. he hates that you let these cretins upset you like this. 

“hey baby.” he pouts sympathetically with you, ducking under your arm to gaze around your familiar living room for any signs of a man he hadn’t yet heard about. he exhales a deep sigh when he finds none. he’s got his hands in his pockets, lips tightened in a knowing grimace. “so what was it this time? no—let me guess: split the bill and then he let you walk home in this weather?” 

you close the door after he’s entered with a heavy sigh. your bleary eyes fix on your hand still clasped around the doorknob, “yeah.” you tug your lip between your teeth and turn to face him. you didn’t have to answer him, for he already knew. it was borderline routine at this point and you were already embarrassed enough. you draw your arms around yourself to feel your own warmth, shaking your head. what was wrong with you? you used to be pined after, wanted—and now you couldn’t even get non-sorcerers to call you back. you haven’t had a second date in years, nor had an orgasm that wasn’t satoru’s handiwork. but even he didn’t want you permanently. you were a good friend and an even better fuck, that’s all. you knew it was pointless to yearn for him, sure he felt nothing other than his ever-present sense of duty and loyalty every-time he took your pain away–no matter the lies that poured out of his saccharine lips to do so. your sad eyes fix on his face, letting your plump bottom lip bounce out from your teeth’s trap. he smirks softly, cock rising because it knows exactly what that look means. 

but unfortunately for you, he won’t just hold you in his arms and promise that you’re worth so much more than you let yourself believe. tonight, he’s going to take what’s rightfully his—and his plan is already working beautifully. you never look away as you walk from the door to him, bracing your tiny and ineffectual hands on his chest. “what’s wrong with me, sato?” you pout, batting your long lashes up at him. his heart could stop just from that look alone. the comfort of his large hands covering yours soothes you already, making the tension drop from your shoulders. 

“you’re naive.” he answers, eyes as bright as ever as they glow like fireflies in your living room. if you were going just by the expression on his face, you’d think he said something kind or even funny, the way he grins softly and blinks his white lashes down at you in wait of your reply. you’re sure you misheard—every other time you asked this question he always said, “maybe you’re just too pretty, huh? ever thought of that, sugarplum?” 

“huh?” you tilt your head to one side, watching his expression shift to amusement. “naive? wh-what do you mean by that?” 

“well, if you weren’t so naive, you’d know, now wouldn’t you?” he pokes his tongue between his teeth, tucking his hands behind his back while you still lean helplessly against him. he likes feeling the weight of your body on his, and he’ll like it even more when he knows it’s a permanent thing. “you’re on birth control.” he states, and your confusion sets in even deeper. your brows furrow, but you nod. 

“yeah? what about that makes me naive?” you posit, used to his antics for the most part. you’ve been around him far too long to mistake his bluntness as an attack to you, even if it stings just a touch. though you did ask, and you have used him as your sexual relief and shoulder to cry on for years now. maybe he’s fed up with lying to save your feelings. 

he looks around for a second, humming. “where is it?” 

you also know better than to question him. if he’s asking you these questions it has to be for a reason—and you don’t have to understand him in the moment. just do what you’ve always done and trust him, support him on and off the battlefield–and never hesitate. it could be the difference between life and death. you learned that on missions together years ago. 

“in my nightstand?” you tilt your head to the other side. he has to admit your astonishment is adorable. he smiles down at you, cupping your cheek lightly. his fingers are so long that his thumb rests on the corner of your lips, fingertips brushing back your hair. 

“go get it for me.” he says as if he asked you to pass him the remote. you narrow your eyes to really study him—and then you see it. the teeming rage, the simmering crazy behind his eyes as they look at you. he is the most powerful man in the world, even if you were scared, there was nothing you could do but obey. but you trust him. and you nod. you turn to pad off to your bedroom and the clicks of his expensive boots follow. you’re used to the butterflies tickling your stomach as you lead him to bed, but you know something’s different this time. you feel like you’ll puke butterflies. but nonetheless, you pull the drawer of your nightstand open and fetch the little foil pack out of it, only a few pills missing from this month’s prescription. you turn to face him with it, mind racing on what he could possibly be doing. knowing him, he’s toying with you–trying to make you as nervous as possible and all this worrying is for no good reason. 

he sits at the edge of your bed, seemingly watching you with interest. he’s happy that you’re humoring him, that’s for sure. not even the faintest hint of protest. maybe you’re not as naive as he thought. in fact, your effortless obedience has his the crotch of his loose hakama’s tightening quickly. your heart jumps in your throat at the sight of him as it usually does—satoru gojo is far too beautiful to be in your house, supposedly telling you why you couldn’t keep a man. the black compression shirt was nearly criminal when it was wrapped around his perfect body. 

“good girl. now flush ‘em down the toilet for me.” he beams, blinding white teeth baring to smile at you. it was a simple request, really. he needed you to stop taking that poison and to stop entertaining the idea of other men. 

“why?” you swallow harshly, voicing your underlying suspicion. 

“don’t you trust me, baby?” he replies with a quickness, tilting his head to mirror yours. he’s doing well to keep himself together–you don’t understand his love for you yet, but he’ll take care of that. he’s a teacher, remember? “that stuff’s not good for you.” 

you hum. the side effects have been brutal, but you’re hardly in the spot for a baby. you can’t even get a boyfriend, much less a baby daddy. “yeah…i know. sucks taking it. guess i could get an iud or something instead.” you think aloud, voice becoming distant as you turn your back to him and dump your pills in the bathroom attached to your small room. you really undersell yourself. you could have been his bride eight years or so ago and been living large. but he’s going to fix it now. his jaw clenches at that declaration, and you feel him watching you the entire time—the doorway a straight shot from the spot he sat in on your bed. 

“no.” he says simply, the lightheartedness gone abruptly. it sends a shiver down your spine, makes your brain alert to the changes within him as he stands and cages you into the bathroom, broad arms stretching to block off the doorway. 

no? he doesn’t want you to protect yourself in any way? that seems a little ridiculous, but maybe he had a good reason. “satoru…i can’t get pregnant right now.” 

“why not?” he asks, looking over your little body nearly trembling from the darkness of his cursed energy growing more oppressive, nearly sucking the air out of the room. your heart pounds, more confused than you were at the start. 

“because i’m…single?” you try carefully, not sure exactly what you were dealing with here. satoru has always been so happy-go-lucky, even when he shouldn’t be. you remember begging him to talk out his stress so that he didn’t explode right after suguru left. so this anger you see set in his features shocks you, his bright and clear sky-colored eyes are clouded and murky, more cerulean than you’ve seen before. his brow is set and you can see the muscles twitching in his jaw. but he’s still smiling, and that for whatever reason is still real. 

“there’s that naivety again, princess.” he licks his teeth, shifting his weight from foot to foot. you look like a deer in the headlights, and he’s giddy at the rush that gives him. you’re finally in his grasp. “you’ve never been single. not since hmmm let’s see, march fifteenth, 2006.” he grins at you–”which makes all this dating real offensive, sweetheart.” 

you want to laugh, but decide against it considering his unpredictability. you shake your head instead, backing yourself to the wall. “what on earth are you talking about? we’re friends–”

“friends that fuck!” he laughs a strained snicker, straightening his posture. “and make sweet hot love, of course. friends that cuddle on the couch and have sleepovers. come on. we’re both adults, don’t insult me. you love me! which is great, because i love you too. i love you so much i’ve made sure that no one could steal you from me.” 

your brows must reach your hairline at that. “stop, satoru. don’t say that! you can’t mean it–fuck, you’re supposed to be married to a kamo or zen’in girl so you can keep making powerful gojo’s right? isn’t that what you always said in school?” 

“you’d give me powerful gojo’s.” he smirks, breaking the barrier of the bathroom’s threshold by stepping closer to you, leaning down to be on face level. “i was only trying to make you jealous sugar! just like this whole stunt you’ve been pullin’, dating around to try to find someone that makes you feel like i do? tch, hahahaha—it’s impossible!! just stop it, be mine and be happy like you should be.” he grasps your chin with a surprising gentleness given his unhinged and maniacal laughter, smiling down at you with something you recognize as his power-trip going off the rails—but. 

but you’d be lying if you said you were scared. he’s declaring his love for you in the most profound way possible, however crazy it–and he–may be. and you’d be lying if you said he didn’t absolutely see right through you. he has the six eyes after all, you should have known he knew what you were trying to do. you were trying to numb the pain of never being his…but you were actually manufacturing that whole scenario. you’re the only girl he’s ever seen, and it’s clear from the desperation mixed in with the insanity—he needs you. 

you reach back and flush the toilet, letting the little white pills circle the bowl and disappear entirely. satoru gojo has always been insane. you’ve seen it firsthand on many missions and battles against curses and sorcerers alike. it just surprised you to see him turn that look upon you–but now you know it was just to get your attention. 

though you don’t doubt what he’s capable of, you have no intention of pushing him to find out.

his eyes go from crazy to ravenous in seconds. you’ve accepted his proposal with hardly any effort and he intends to show you the difference between his sweet hookups and his passionate need to claim the woman of his dreams. 

“so you…scared off all those guys?” you ask, raising a brow as your face still rests in his clutches. he swipes his thumb over your bottom lip, nodding vigorously. 

“sure did, princess. i was trying to let you figure it out on your own…” he sighs, brushing your hair back behind your ears as his eyes scan over your body again. he needs to feel you. “but you’re not a quick learner, hence why i’m on plan b.” he winks, scooping you over his shoulder moments later. he puts you on your bed, the short walk made shorter by his teleportation. he’s just too impatient, brain swelling with the flashing images of you in traditional wedding attire and round with his heir. it all feels within reach now, and he has to try it out now. “gonna show you how bad i love you–you’ll never go anywhere else.” he mutters, lanky frame swallowing up your body, hips pinning yours to the bed beneath you. “you’re gonna give me a gojo and you’re gonna look so fucking good doing it.” he mutters, lips attaching to your neck reminiscent of the way they have a million times. though this time, there’s intention behind it—or well. this time you’re aware of the intention behind it. 

in all your times together, his dirty talk has been contained to praising your body and how good you feel to him. his incantations to knock you up has your heart beating funny and wetness pooling between your legs. you make a soft gasp sound for him, elongating your neck to let him leave real marks of possession where you’ve previously resisted. your body writhes and twists under his as his teeth knick and nip bruises into your skin. he’d spell his own name with them if he could, even a ring and a baby wasn’t enough in his eyes. he needs the world to know you’re his, that you’ll always be by his side, that you were born to be his. 

“that pesky birth control’s gonna have to wear off though–so we have time to get married before you get pregnant–if that matters to you.” he moans at the idea, hands sliding under your top to push it over your head. his mouth moves to suck the swells of your tits once they’re exposed to him, humming out his satisfaction at the warm skin. your head digs back into the mattress—mind absolutely drunk on his affection and devotion. it’s all you’ve ever wanted and now it’s right here, and from the man you’ve always wished you could have—how could you ever deny him again? 

your hands pull at the fabric on his back, hips bucking up for a source of friction. he breaks away from marking up your chest to bare his to you, throwing his t-shirt into some corner of your room to be forgotten about until tomorrow. this wouldn’t be your room much longer anyway–you’ll be moved into the estate within the next two days, he wouldn’t be able to live without you now. then he’s pushing you up towards the headboard, ripping off your lounge shorts to reveal those cute panties he knows you wear when you’re trying to impress him. color him fucking thrilled at your puffy pussy lips indenting the fabric around them, making him groan at the sight. he thumbs at your clit through the cotton, sparkling eyes flickering between the growing wet spot in your panties and the adorable scrunches of your nose and the pinch of your brow from the pleasure he’s dishing out before he’s even really touching you. you’re so cute he can’t pace himself, needing to consecrate your importance to him in the best way he knows how. 

you help him get you out of your underwear, shamelessly spreading for him after hundreds of rendezvous—you’ve lost your shyness and he loves it, loves seeing your neediness for him in the glaze of your pretty doe eyes and the way you swing your hips around to beg for his attention. “tell me you love me.” he hums, nosing apart your pussy lips. his cock throbs at the scent, and you feel goosebumps break out across your skin at his command. 

“you’re the one for me, sato. i love you.” you whisper so intimately he can feels his cursed energy pulsing like the rest of him. he groans, submerging his face in your cunt with a genuine pleasure you’ve only seen from him. he loves eating you out, loves the taste of you on his tongue—loves how your noises only rile him into fucking the bed, whining and grunting with his own neediness that he could only unleash once he’s properly readied you for it. 

“you taste so fucking good baby…so sweet down my throat. get loud, i don’t care it’s an apartment. you’ll be moving out soon anyway.” he smirks, latching onto your clit to make your legs jolt like they always do. it makes him giggle every time, and the vibrations feel even better against your sensitive bundle. he rolls it around his tongue, letting his index finger explore the wetness he’s helping you create. he pokes into your entrance, knowing how violently you craved something inside. his thoughts are confirmed by the way you clench around the digit, whining and bucking into it for more. he’s more than happy to oblige, finger fucking you with two long and thick fingers while his tongue works overtime on your clit. he loves watching you at this part, enamored by your face as your hips involuntarily jump from the bed, smacking your clit into his nose instead of his skilled tongue. 

your entire body is warm, jerking like you’re receiving electrical shocks from the pleasure satoru reigns down, gasping and sputtering on the edge of orgasm just a few minutes after he started. it’s always like this with him–though this time was special because you knew your life was changing before your very eyes—that satoru’s energy was growing so rapidly because he’s letting go of all kinds of stress and pent up frustration and anger. “please—wanna cum please sato–”

“daddy. i’m daddy now. ask daddy nicely.” he chuckles as he leans his head against his free hand, curling his fingers into the spot he knows so well just to watch your mouth drop and eyes widen in absolute blissful shock. you nod–brain fuzzy from his constant teasing and his new nickname. 

“daddy!! yes—daddy! please, oh my god—daddy let me cum!” you sound so good when you say it–it’s all he ever wants to hear for the rest of his life. he can’t wait for you to make him a real daddy. 

“oh missus gojo can do anything she wants.” he coos as if he didn’t make you expressly beg for permission, lowering his face to your cunt again with precise licks, shoving your hood back to absolutely abuse your sensitivity. your legs develop a mind of their own and you’re spiraling over the edge before you can understand what he’s doing. floating balls of color cover your vision and you scream his name just as loud as he wanted. he grins in satisfaction, hands resting on your knees so he can push himself forward for a sloppy kiss; slick covered lips sliding against yours so you could taste your own essence via his tongue shoving its way in your mouth with a hearty moan. you match his eagerness, making out with satoru with more passion than ever before–because you both have the security of knowing it’s real this time. he maneuvers his hips until his leaky tip catches on your hole, his breath shaky as before he shoves in like he always does. you squeeze him so tight it’s not hard to believe why he lost his fucking mind over this pussy. he truly would do anything to make you his, thank god you didn’t put up a fight. 

“fuuuuck–” he whines a little, finding it nearly impossible to even move in the first place. you feel the burn of his fat and lengthy shaft parting your walls like they routinely do, mouth dropped wide open in pleasure. satoru hovers inches away from your face, so close that the ends of his hair tickle your forehead as he picks your legs up—holding you by the back of the ankles before he sets a brutal pace. his nuts clap into your ass from the way he moves, length curving just right to fill you to the brim. he doesn’t even have to try all that hard to bottom out against your cervix, finding the way you moan and twitch so adorable. “this is why you have to be my wife—i need you for life, sweetheart.” 

your eyes widen at that declaration–though you already realized that satoru would never let you out of his clutches again. you knew he would marry you as quickly as possible based off of his desire to also knock you up as quickly as possible—but hearing him call you that, first missus gojo and now his wife, it all felt so real. his cock slamming into you only drilled it in further, his eyes glowing brighter than you’ve ever seen. the air also grows its own electric field, suffocating and thrilling all at the same time. your eyes are glued to him, entranced by the feral look on his face. you try to hold onto him, but he’s moving so punishingly you can’t even get your hands to work, mind and body on cloud nine. “you’re so beautiful. i’ve been in love…with—you–for years now.” he says in between deep breaths, trying to contain all his focus into drilling you unconscious. 

you shudder, feeling that was completely in the realm of possibility. his balls ache, the need to breed you just as heavy as all the other times you’ve come to him to clean up every mess of yours ever since he’s known you, the need to make you his in a way no one else would be allowed to—it’s carnal. he can’t stop until you’re full of his seed and it takes. he needs to see your breasts heavy with milk to feed his baby from. he needs to see you struggle with the weight of your belly so he can urge you to rest and let him serve you like you should be. he needs to see what the combination of your love looks like; what these last ten years of hard work would become. he’s painting your insides white and still pumping just as fast as before, watching your face tick and jerk with the pleasure you’re experiencing as you tip off of your own peak. he grins, shoving that cum as deep as it will go. he stops when he knows your body can’t take anymore, cuddling you to his chest until you fall asleep safe and sound. he has the whole world in his hands, and that’s never been enough. now he can sleep with a genuine smile on his face. he knows your body will regulate in a few months off the birth control—but that doesn’t mean he can’t get plenty of practice until then. after all, he has a problem! he has to breed his pretty little girl best friend turned future wife. 

[nadvs]

please can we have sleeping with the enemy reader taking care of rafe with his hangover (from your last blurb) 😚😚

aaaa yes omg the fluff! (and the everyone but them can see it trope!) (and the overdue confession!) 🙂‍↕️

based on this fic, continutation of this blurb

rafe can’t even open his eyes yet. he feels like he’s an inch away from death.

about a month ago, he moved out of his dorm and into a house with a group of his teammates. it was a nightmare securing a lease on a house because of the reputation athletes have left on the landlords off campus.

but because rafe was the one who worked so hard on getting the house, and because he’s the team captain, he got the biggest and best room, ensuite attached.

it’s in the top floor. it’s quiet. it gets the best ac. but no amount of ac can make the sickening heat of the hangover he has this morning any better.

he finally opens his eyes. she’s not beside him. if he remembers correctly, he asked her to sleep over last night. and… goddamn it, he called her his girlfriend.

there’s a good chance he scared her away. they’re best friends who hook up sometimes. that’s it. no matter how much his teammates - at least the ones who have the balls to - fuck with him about it.

a few nights ago, a girl struck up conversation with rafe at a party and one of his buddies told her not to bother because ‘he’s basically married’ and the crazy thing is, he let her believe it. he hasn’t hooked up with another girl in ages. he hasn’t wanted to.

it got to him. maybe that’s why he slipped up last night, calling her his girlfriend. if he remembers right, it’s like they agreed to being something more in a roundabout, drunken way. or maybe she was just humoring him and is planning to let him down easy when they’re both sober.

she’s in the kitchen, wearing one of rafe’s shirts, cutting up what little fruit the guys have lying around. the blender was a bitch to clean, tacked with residual protein powder.

she’s awake before everyone, making rafe a smoothie to help cure his hangover. this is 100% girlfriend behavior. she’s doing the absolute most. she knows that.

she tells herself it’s because they’re best friends. she’d do the same for any other friend. but doing it for rafe feels so much more gratifying than if she did it for anyone else.

as she drops banana slices into the blender, she thinks about the regret that washed over rafe’s face last night.

she wonders why he so obviously wished he hadn’t called her his girlfriend. was it because he accidentally exposed what he really thinks of her? or because he didn’t want her to get the wrong idea?

she blends the smoothie, cleans up and pads upstairs to rafe’s bedroom. when she opens the door, he’s sprawled out on his bed, down to his boxers, the duvet half-covering his body.

she’s seen him naked so many times before. but this weirdly feels like it’s the most intimate they’ve ever been.

“did you take my clothes off last night?” rafe grumbles, staring up at the ceiling.

“somehow,” she answers. “i fell on my ass trying to pull your jeans off.”

“oh, yeah,” he laughs. he heard her fall to the floor in the dark. it was hilarious. but then he clutches his head. even laughing hurts. “fuck.”

“imagine how bad you’d feel if i didn’t force water on you last night. you’re welcome, by the way,” she says.

she places the glass on the nightstand and sits on the edge of the bed, glad she only had a couple of drinks last night.

“i made you a smoothie. you need to replenish.”

his tired blue eyes finally land on her. he takes her in, the way her brows are knitted in concern, the way she looks in his shirt.

“and your blender was disgusting,” she adds. “it’s pretty sad that a whole group of grown men don’t know how to properly wash dishes. it took me forever to clean it.”

“you’re talking too much,” he rasps, massaging his temple with his thumb.

normally, she’d tease him back. she knows he’s joking. but the joke doesn’t land. she looks away.

in the sober brightness of the morning, she realizes she feels stupid. they agreed they were just friends, but she’s playing house and acting like a girlfriend to someone who either doesn’t want her like that, or does and won’t admit to it when he’s not drunk.

she doesn’t mind taking care of him. but she’s catching feelings. how can she be friends with someone when every second that passes that they’re not more than that feels like a little dose of rejection?

they’ve always been direct with each other. at some point, that stopped. at least on her side.

“i’m fucking with you,” rafe clarifies. “thank you.”

she scoffs. he hardly ever has manners. she must really look mad.

“sure,” she says. she leans forward, picking up and handing him the smoothie, knowing he’s too tired to get it himself. “do you remember what you said last night?”

rafe’s eyes dart away. he rakes back his tousled hair, sitting up slowly to hold the smoothie. tortuously slow, he takes a sip, making her wait for his answer.

“what’d i say?” he mumbles.

she tilts her head, her lips in a firm line. he said he wouldn’t be embarrassed the next day. he’s acting like he is now, though. or maybe he really doesn’t remember.

she suddenly feels bad for pushing this heavy of a conversation on him when he’s clearly exhausted and feeling so terrible.

“we’ll talk about it later,” she says. it gives rafe a wave of anxiety. maybe she’s planning to let him down gently. to tell him they can’t be more than friends. “hydrate, got it?”

she stands, pulling his shirt off over her head.

“where are you going?” he asks, watching her bend over to pick up last night’s clothes.

“home,” she says. “text me if you wanna hang out later when you feel human again.”

she leaves. he lets her.

he’s in a funk the rest of the morning. he eventually finds the strength to take a shower. he eats his first meal at three p.m.

when he sees the blender on the drying rack in the kitchen, his chest tightens. this isn’t normal. he shouldn’t miss someone he saw just this morning. but he does.

and whatever happened last night is hanging over him. if he knows her, he knows it’s bothering her, too.

he texts her: feeling human again. u busy?

she replies: i’m free and starving.

he smirks at his phone. pick you up in 30

when she sinks into the passenger seat of his suv, she’s uneasy. jittery. as if this is a first date. but when she takes in how tense he looks, she pushes all her feelings away.

“what’s wrong?” she asks. “you good?”

“i’m… this feels weird,” he admits. she stills. so it’s not just her who senses it.

“weird how?”

“what do you wanna eat?” he asks. “where am i going?”

“you’re staying here until you tell me what’s up.”

rafe chews on his lip. he turns his key, shutting the car off, parked in front of her dorm building. he knows there’s no point in arguing with her. she can be stubborn.

“weird how?” she repeats.

“like… i’m nervous or something.”

rafe has known for a while now that he’s someone else around her. or maybe he’s actually himself, and she’s the only person who coaxes it out of him.

“nervous?” she echoes. rafe is only ever nervous before an important game, and even then, he’s more hyped up to win than anything.

he can’t take it anymore. he’d rather rip off the bandaid.

“be straight with me,” he says. “what’d i say that you wanted to talk about?”

she can’t recall the last time she felt so shy around him, if ever.

“do you remember calling me your girlfriend?” she says.

he shuffles in his seat, expelling a heavy breath.

“if i fucked things up, just say it,” he rasps.

“so, you remember?”

“yeah.”

“do you remember how you said you wouldn’t be embarrassed for saying it?”

“yeah,” he mutters sharply. “can you get to the point?”

“can you not be a dick right now?” she says.

he sighs. can’t she tell he’s anxious?

“are you?” she says. “embarrassed, i mean?”

“no,” rafe begins. “i’m annoyed that i said it. it made things awkward.”

“it did,” she agrees.

“okay,” he huffs. “so what now?”

she clasps her hands together in her lap, looking out at the side mirror. she could just say they can forget about it. grab takeout. go back to normal. but going back to normal kind of feels impossible.

“my friends always tell me we act like a couple,” she finally says. “this morning, i was washing your dishes and organizing your fridge and i thought, they’re right. this is the kind of stuff a girl in a relationship does. but then i was like, no it’s not like that. we’re just best friends. but then last night... you said you’d be a good boyfriend.”

“mhm,” he says, bracing for the rejection. the let’s just be friends. or worse, the things are too weird now and we should probably stop hanging out.

she swallows hard.

“i wanted to know if… did something change? were you just drunk or do you actually want to…” she trails off.

for once, it feels odd saying her thoughts out loud to him. because he was always as adamant about not wanting commitment as she was. things have gotten so messy all because he blurted something out last night.

rafe stares at her profile as she looks out the window. she’d fiddling impatiently, like she was the night they first talked at the bar months ago, waiting for someone to take her drink order.

“the guys mess with me about it, too,” he tells her. “they say we act like we’re married or some shit.”

she quirks her eyebrows. they basically do. they see each other almost every day. they bicker. they’re constantly subconsciously touching, whether it’s through joined hands or bumped knees. they have too many inside jokes. they take care of each other. she reminds him of things he can’t afford to forget, like appointments or exams. he makes sure she eats and he pays for everything they do together.

“i don’t look at other girls,” he confesses. “and i know you get hit on when you go out, but it never goes anywhere. i… okay, yeah, fine, something did change at some point. i don’t know when.”

for the first time since she got in the car, she cracks a smile. they’re best friends who are ridiculously attracted to each other and joined at the hip. if that’s not a relationship, what is?

“are we already kind of dating?” she says, finally meeting his eyes.

rafe breathes a chuckle, the heaviness in his chest lifting all at once.

everything was always so easy with her. he assumed it’s because they had no expectations between them. but that wasn’t it. in reality, they had been quietly meeting each other’s expectations without having to try.

“yeah. we are,” he says.

her eyelids flutter as she looks down, gazing at his hand splayed over the dark denim on his thigh. her stomach is numb. her mind is buzzing.

“how’d you get so lucky?” she teases.

rafe doesn’t even have it in him to joke back. he needs to touch her. he leans forward, cradling her jaw, capturing her lips in his.

they’ve kissed a thousand times before. but never like this. this is a kiss that says there’s an understanding that she’s his and he’s hers. and maybe it took them a while to realize that, but now that they’re here, they’re not going back.

(continuation)

[holylulusworld]

How to cure a grump (1)

Summary: You're losing your job on Christmas.

Pairing: CEO/Boss!Bucky Barnes x fem!Reader

Warnings: angst, grumpy Bucky, awful boss

“Santa Claus is coming to town,” you sing along to the song blaring from your phone. You’re, as so often, the last one at the office.

Before the holidays, most of your colleagues try to get out of the office as early as possible. They have better plans than to work like busy ants two days before Christmas.

Sadly, you didn’t get to leave on the clock. Your boss demanded your attention. You couldn’t join your colleagues at the little Christmas party you organized for weeks.

Now they will all exchange the Secret Santa gifts you got for most of them, drink eggnog, and sing awful Christmas songs while you are stuck here with your grumpy boss.

“Miss Y/L/N, I need the numbers now." Mr. Barnes doesn’t even walk toward your desk. He simply barks orders your way.

You heave out a sigh and glance at the stack of papers on your desk. Before you get up to hand Mr. Barnes the numbers he wanted you to finish before the holidays, you save your work.

Grabbing the papers, you silently pray that Mr. Barnes won’t come up with more tasks. It’s long past your work time, and you’re tired and cranky. You’ll need a good night’s sleep and at least a day off before driving home for Christmas.

“Miss Y/L/N,” he barks as you are already halfway toward his office. Mr. Barnes huffs as you stumble over your own feet. “You know, I had better things to do than wait for the numbers. I have been waiting for hours. I think you’re the worst person working here.”

For a second, you’re stunned. You feel like Mr. Barnes slapped you across your face.

“Maybe if you asked the person responsible for the mistake to help you with the numbers, you'd like the outcome better. I worked overtime only to get yelled at!” You gasp. The words just flew out of your mouth, unfiltered and raw with emotions.

“Well, maybe you shouldn’t work here any more then!” He bites back. It wasn’t a surprise to you that Mr. Barnes lost his temper. He’s always been a little hot-headed and grumpy. Mr. Barnes fired people here and there over the years. You just didn’t think you’d be one of them one day.

“You’re firing me after I fixed a mistake someone else made?” You huff and cross your arms over your chest. “I don’t see anyone else standing in line to work through the numbers. I worked overtime before the holidays to do you a favor.”

“That’s your job,” he growls and points at the door. “Or was. I want you to pack your things and don’t come back.”

“Fine,” you huff and turn on your heels, regretting your mishap instantly. You’d apologize and even fall to your knees to get your job back. Sadly, Mr. Barnes is a strict man. He doesn’t accept mistakes or insubordination. Whatever you’d do or say, there was no way he’d give you your job back.

So, you got a box from the storage room, emptied your desk, grabbed your belongings, and left the building for the last time in your life. To hell with this job and your boss.

“Mom, stop asking questions,” you plead as your mother wouldn’t stop asking questions about your job.

“It’s all so exciting. Living in the big city, having friends you meet up at bars like Carrie in Sex and the City, and your job. It sounds wonderful!”

“Mom, I barely made any friends,” you sigh, and try to rub the embarrassment off your face. “I’d call them work friends or acquaintances.”

“I bet they are all too happy to have you around,” she coos and cups your face. “I know my Munchkin conquered the big city in no time.”

“Mom, I—” you sniffle and look away, ashamed. It never gets easy to lie to your mother. “I have to tell you something about the job.”

“What is it, Munchkin?” she asks, looking at you, worry in her eyes. She coos to you as you begin to cry. Starting anew after your long-term boyfriend and fiancé broke things up was the dream you wanted to fulfill. Now, you failed again.

“I got fired yesterday,” you sniff. “I worked overtime, and my boss yelled at me. I fixed someone else’s mistake, and he still yelled at me. I lost it and…” You shake your head and refuse to look at your mother.

“Y/N, that’s not the end of the world.” She wraps you in a warm embrace. The kind of embrace only a mother can give you. You feel warm and safe, remembering all the times she calmed you in times of need. “You’ll find a new job, a better one. If he fired you, that man doesn’t know how to value you.”

“The fuck no!” Bucky flings a stack of papers across the room. He tried to access your account, only to realize he never asked you to reset your password. Now he’s seething because most of your work, except the files you shared with colleagues and him, is password protected. “She forgot to reset the fucking password!”

“Well, you told her to pack her things and leave, Buck. What did you expect to happen?” Steve huffs. He had to leave his cozy home and wife to help Bucky with some unimportant paperwork. “We've got time to fix this until after the holidays.”

“Unimportant to you,” Bucky bites back. “I want this finished before the year ends.”

“Buck,” Steve snorts. “If you need her password, call her.” The blonde shrugs before turning to leave. “I know you are not the best at communicating, but I believe in you. You can handle a phone call with a woman you just fired.”

“I tried more than once,” Bucky snaps at his best friend and business partner. “She won’t answer. The last time I called, she blocked my number.”

“Yeah, because you fired her!” Steve replies, laughing. “I wouldn’t answer any call from an asshole firing me two days before Christmas, either.”

Bucky opens his mouth to reply. He huffs as his friend already walks toward the door.

“What shall I do now? I need the password!”

“If you cannot reach her, go to her home and ask for the password. I will go home now. Please don’t call me during Christmas. Natasha will rip me a new one if I miss Christmas.”

“She’s not home. I was there. Her neighbors told me that Y/N will spend Christmas at her parents’ house. There’s nothing I can do about it.”

“Buck,” Steve laughs. “You can fly to her hometown and ask her for the password. While on your way back, you can celebrate with a pretty stewardess in first class as every Christmas…”

[dr-spencer-reids-queen]

Tipping Point

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~1.4k

Warnings: sexual tension, implied smut

Summary: Your aunt signs you up for shooting lessons with Spencer Reid. You get more than you bargained for when you go.

Square Filled: alex blake (2022) for @spencerreidbingo

Author’s Note: any and all comments are greatly appreciated <3

x

Not having a job is really kicking your ass. All you do is stay at home and flip through magazines and shows you’ve already watched. Since your parents died, your aunt has taken you under her wing. The housing and renting market is a joke right now, so you’re living with her until you can go to school. You want to go into her field since you look up to her so much, but the school year doesn’t start for another three months.

So, you’re just trying to pass the time by reading magazines and watching shit reality shows.

Aunt Alex walks downstairs after getting ready for work, and she goes to the kitchen where the full pot of coffee you brewed is waiting for her.

“So, what do you have planned for today?” she asks.

“Well, at ten, I want to cure diseases, and at two, I plan on writing a thesis on String Theory. Why? Do you have something planned? I can see if I can fit you in,” you say sarcastically.

“You’re so funny,” she rolls her eyes playfully. “There’s actually something I want you to do for me.”

“What’s up?”

“I signed you up for shooting lessons. One of my coworkers is teaching the class, and he knows you’re coming. Your appointment is at two.”

You resist the urge to roll your eyes. She’s been nagging you to take shooting lessons ever since you moved in with her.

“Aunt Alex…”

“Y/N, listen, your mother wasn’t prepared and look where it got her. I’m not letting the same thing happen to you.”

She’s right. Your father died shortly after you were born so your mom was the protector. There was an invasion one night and she wasn’t able to protect herself against the intruder. She died fighting to save you. Alex sees evil every single day, and it would break her heart if you weren't prepared for the worst.

“Fine, I’ll go,” you sigh.

“Good. It’s at two. Don’t be late.”

“I won’t.”

The morning is filled with reality TV, and the early afternoon is when you prepare to go to this lesson. What should you wear? A dress might be too much so you pick out a nice pair of jeans and a loose shirt. Once ready, you leave the house and head over to the shooting range. You’re not sure who from her team is going to be teaching you. You’ve never met them but you do know them by name. David Rossi, Derek Morgan, Aaron Hotchner, and Spencer Reid. You don’t think Rossi or Hotch will teach you so it has to be either Derek or Spencer.

The shooting range is empty, probably due to Alex’s influence. She wanted whoever is teaching it to focus on you the whole time.

“Hello? Anyone here?”

“In the back!”

You walk to the back and see a tall and slender man putting away supplies. From Penelope’s use of the phrase “Chocolate Thunder” (thanks to Aunt Alex repeating it several times), you know this is Spencer Reid. Spencer turns and you’re immediately floored by how attractive he is. You’ve met your fair share of men and have hooked up with more than one of them, but Spencer is on a whole other level.

This is a man right here. You’re into older men, too. You’re not sure how old he is but he can’t be more than thirty-five.

He walks over to you with a smile. “Hi, I’m Spencer Reid. Alex said you were coming over.” No words are coming out so you just nod instead. “Have you ever shot a gun before?” Again, you can only shake your head. “Don’t worry, I’ll teach you.”

He takes you over to the area where you shoot and shows an array of guns on the table next to it. He picks up the smaller one and hands it over to you.

“Wow, this is heavier than I thought it was going to be,” you chuckle when you grab it.

“Yeah, don’t let that scare you. This is a very easy gun to use. First, safety.”

Spencer takes the gun from you and puts it on the table before grabbing a pair of earmuffs and safety glasses. You look up at him as he slides the earmuffs over your ears, and he looks into your eyes. He briefly looks down at your lips but it was so quick that you could have been imagining it.

“Does that fit well?”

Even through the earmuffs, his voice is like honey. You nod and he moves onto the glasses. He slides them on despite you having full capabilities of doing this yourself. You look down and the glasses slide off your face entirely, and you chuckle shyly. Both you and Spencer lean down to pick it up, and your hand bumps against his.

It was just a bump but that sends shockwaves through your body. Based on how Spencer is looking at you, you know he felt the same. This is different than any fling you had. You’ve never felt this type of attraction toward another man.

“Sorry,” you whisper.

“It’s okay.” He grabs the glasses. “Let me get another pair.” Spencer leaves and returns with a smaller pair. “Are those okay?”

“Better,” you smile.

“Okay, take the gun and turn the safety off.” You pick up the gun and flip the little switch. Spencer steps closer to you, so close that you can feel his body heat behind you. Butterflies flutter in your stomach but you try to ignore them. “Here, hold it like this.”

He reaches around you and fixes the way you hold the gun. He has to press himself closer to your back, and you silently thank Aunt Alex for setting this up for you.

“Am I holding it right?” you ask.

“Yes.”

His breath is hot against your neck, and you swear you can feel your panties dampening a little bit.

“Now what?”

“Shoot.” You aim at the target in front of you and shoot three times, all of the bullets not hitting the target but on the paper outside of it. “Okay, next time, don’t close one eye. That actually doesn’t help.”

“Okay,” you chuckle. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay. Try again. This time, try to aim for the heart.”

You aim at the target but freeze when you feel Spencer’s hand sliding up your arms and down to your waist. How can you think about this when all you can think about is his hands on your body? You shoot the target twice, both of the bullets hitting the target. However, one hit his leg and the other hit his hand.

“Better?”

“Yeah, a bit. Are you sure you’ve never shot a gun before?”

“Never.”

“For a first-timer, you’re doing a lot better than other newbies.”

“Thanks,” you smile. “I just have a really great teacher.”

Spencer spends the next thirty minutes teaching you how to shoot multiple different guns. By the time you’re done, the sexual tension is high. Spencer steps back from you and you regret not failing more just so you can feel his body against yours.

“Okay, I think that’s enough for today. I do think you might benefit from one more lesson. Are you free next week?”

“Yes,” you say too quickly. “I mean, I can make that work. Just let me know.”

“Great.”

Spencer removes your glasses and then your earmuffs while staring into your eyes the whole time. The tension between you two is like a boiling pot of water. It’s going to overflow any second now, and you can’t wait to see what will happen when he snaps. He looks down at your lips and you lick them slowly, and that seems to be the tipping point.

He grabs your waist and pulls you into him before slamming his lips on yours. You immediately wrap your arms around his neck to deepen the kiss. He hooks his hands under your thighs and lifts you up with ease, setting you on the small table so you’re up to his height. Spencer slides his tongue along your bottom lip, but he kisses his way down your jaw to your neck instead of licking inside your mouth.

“Alex is going to kill me,” he mutters between kisses.

“What she doesn’t know won’t hurt her,” you moan.

Spencer pulls back and kisses you once again. If you knew this was waiting for you, you would have taken lessons a lot sooner.

x

Want to be tagged? Follow my library blog @aqueenslibrary​​​​​​ where I reblog all my stories, so you can put notifications on there without the extra stuff :)

[helluvapoison]

how would the overlords propose?

Say Yes

how the overlords would propose

ʕ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ

˚✧₊⁎ Carmilla Carmine ⁎⁺˳✧༚

Romance isn’t an afterthought to her, as hard as that is to believe. Carmilla is a very passionate woman… it just comes after logic. Whether you knew it or not, you’ve been put to the test much earlier on. (How you treat her daughters and how they like you is the most important part, if you didn’t pass you wouldn’t have made it this far)

By now she knows you’re worthy and she’ll bring you into her world permanently. Carmilla plans something intimate. She surprises you in her office for a candlelit dinner, courtesy of her private chef! She is a businesswoman first so she gets straight to the point and asks for your hand, literally, slipping the band into your finger.

“Marry me,” Carmilla says, uncharacteristically soft, “With you at my side, I will be complete.”

˚✧₊⁎ Zestial ⁎⁺˳✧༚

Telling himself there’s no rush, that he could wait a thousand more lifetimes to make you completely his, doesn’t cure the urgency to do it anyways. He’s seen any ounce of goodness down here nabbed before anyone else can take it for themselves. Zestial never claimed to be unselfish, only patient. He tests the question to himself first very early on. Then he phrases it differently to you or refers to himself as your husband to others. You mistake it for a slip up and smile anyways. A delightful sign in his eyes.

Zestial is pleased that you don’t suspect it. How could you when he’s merely being his usual, charming self? He takes you strolling down the same path you took when he first began courting you. Ever the gentleman, he pauses before the bridge over the river of magma and actually kneels.

“Would thou spend the rest of this infernal afterlife beside thyself? Say yes and I swear never to stray and never to allow harm to befall thee. Thou shall only know happiness from this moment on.”

˚✧₊⁎ Alastor ⁎⁺˳✧༚

Love at first sight doesn’t exist so do not twist his words when he says he knew you belonged to him the moment you met. Feelings were bothersome and you flooded his entire being with them with a simple gaze. Lingering between the emotions was always pain, which he was familiar with. Unfortunately for him, the cure for his ailment was always you. Marriage was not in the cards for either of you. Alastor thought he had no intention of going through such hassle until he couldn’t stop staring at the vacant spot on your ring finger. Bothersome.

Truly you had no idea what he was plotting. It wasn’t uncommon for him to bring you to his radio tower, going over notes with him or just quietly hanging about while he worked. He told you there would be a guest on his next show and he wanted to rehearse the questions. Simple enough. Before you even read the last one Alastor stopped you with a finger to the lips,

“Pardon my dear, you’ve been a wonderful co host— utterly indispensable these past few years— but that’s my line!” There’s a flicker of hesitation before his smile takes a slightly gentler form, a side of Alastor only you’re privy to, “Will you marry me?”

˚✧₊⁎ Rosie ⁎⁺˳✧༚

Since she was married a few times already, you thought Rosie would be over the whole thing by now. Well you couldn’t be more wrong if you tried! She adores weddings, from organizing them to being in them; the whole shabang is right up her alley! There was a reason her ex husbands didn’t work out but you don’t have to worry about the whys and whatnots. You’re oh so very special to Rosie, she couldn’t bear the thought of losing you!

The fact you think marriage is off the table has her giddy. She loves having the element of surprise! Cannibal’s left and right are in on the plot, making sure you’re exactly where you need to be all day long until you reach the town square at sunset. Crimson rose petals lead you to the gazebo where candles are lit all around your Radiant Rosie. She smiles so fondly at you it makes your knees weak as you climb the steps to reach her. She poured her love into two pages, prepared to make it her best speech ever but the second you were in front of her everything went out the window!

“Oh! I can’t wait another minute! Marry me, won’t you?”

~

╰(*´︶`*)╯♡ the vees might get their own part cause, i feel, they’re particular about marriage

[amakumos]

CUPID'S CHRONICLES — an enhypen smau series.

with the help of cupid's corner, a twitter account where you can send anonymous confessions to your crush, finding love is easy at decelis academy.

author's note. this series is recommended for you to read in order! please check the taglist status on the main post of a specific smau, not here. this post is just to organise all 7 smaus and put them all in one place to show that they're one series : ) taglists will be opened according to a specific smau, so unfortunately being tagged in general for all 7 won’t be possible :( apologies! please check the main post for EACH smau to know if the taglists are open, not here!

RIKI'S CONFESSION — CUPID'S CORNER (COMPLETE)

synopsis. because he’s a little shit, nishimura riki sends a totally embarrassing confession about you to “cupid’s corner”, a twitter account that posts anonymous confessions from decelis academy students. but when that joke confession suddenly makes a bunch of people confess to you on cupid’s corner (for real this time!) riki finds that he’s jealous — and oh… he can’t believe it took him a fake confession to realise that he’s crazily in love with you.

JUNGWON'S CONFESSION — CUPID'S CONFLICT (COMPLETE)

synopsis. as the man behind cupid's corner, jungwon is responsible for getting majority of the couples at decelis together (namely, riki and his girlfriend.) but there's one person that always gets in the way of half of the couples that jungwon sets up together — you. you are the polar opposite of yang jungwon, affectionately called "evil cupid" by your friends, as you have the unfortunate ability to break any couple up within a couple of weeks just by taking a picture with them. it's not intentional, you tell jungwon. what's also not intentional, is when jungwon finds himself crushing on you.

JAKE'S CONFESSION — CUPID'S CURE (ONGOING)

synopsis. as the new admins of cupid’s corner, gunwook and eunchae make it their mission to get back some of the couples that jungwon’s girlfriend had unintentionally broken up. one of the couples on their list are you and jake sim, also known as the self proclaimed “rizzler of oz”. you haven’t talked to jake since the breakup — because one, you don’t think you’re quite over him yet, and two, you have zero reason to speak to him! that is, until eunchae works her “magic” — she decides to post a confession (apparently coming from jake himself), saying that he still loves you.

HEESEUNG'S CONFESSION — CUPID'S CONNECTION (IN PLANNING.)

synopsis. the volleyball team is hell-bent on setting up lee heeseung with someone, but they don’t know that heeseung’s already deeply infatuated with someone in his accounting class — you. but when heeseung tells the team who you are, he’s completely shocked by what he learns about you. you’re logical, rational and has great common sense — so how the hell are you hyungyeom's older sister?

SUNGHOON’S CONFESSION — CUPID'S CRUSHED! (IN PLANNING)

synopsis. former competitive figure skater park sunghoon has been crushing on you for years. even though he doesn’t skate anymore, and even though he never really sees you around school, you’re always stuck in the back of his mind. so, when jake’s girlfriend introduces sunghoon to all of his friends, sunghoon immediately hits it off with taerae — with jake even stating that he’s been “replaced”. apparently, you’re close friends with taerae too — and sunghoon only realises that you’re taerae’s ex when he’s fallen too deep.

JAY'S CONFESSION — CUPID'S COURT (IN PLANNING)

synopsis. everyone knows that jay loves soccer — maybe a little too much. but, when jay sees that you insult his favourite sport on twitter, he’s deeply offended. despite having zero positive feelings towards you, he makes it his mission to change your mind about soccer, because in his opinion, it’s the greatest sport of all time — but he finds that he ends up falling for you instead.

SUNOO'S CONFESSION — CUPID'S CALLING (IN PLANNING)

synopsis. kim sunoo is very single. it’s not like he’s seeking for a relationship though — it’ll come when the time is right, he thinks. but when he gets a phone call from a random number one day, with the other person on the line starting a conversation, sunoo thinks he might’ve just fallen in love. slight issue, he doesn’t know who you are, and he also doesn’t know that this was another one of eunchae’s antics to get all of her friends into a happy relationship.

[blamebrampton]

Books talk to each other. Mostly because practically every writer is also a voracious reader, but also because books arise out of times and places and we share a lot of our worlds these days. So it’s unsurprising that several novels I have hugely enjoyed over the past few years share the theme of the antiheroine who is past all giving of the fucks. Naomi Novik’s powerful dark sorceress kept on her own tight leash in the Scholomance books was a joy to follow; Xiran Jay Zhao’s Iron Widow slashed her way into my heart and now Sarah Rees Brennan’s Long Live Evil has added to a list of beloved antiheroines that probably started for me with Becky Sharp in Vanity Fair.

Coincidentally, when considering how to describe Long Live Evil without significant spoilers, I realised that it shared several major themes with Vanity Fair. Young woman unfairly treated by fate decides to embrace her slut era to survive a war zone – both very accurate and wildly inaccurate for both. LLE opens with main character Rae in a hospital bed, teasing her sister about a book series they both adore. Rae is taking refuge in the story they have shared over years because it is one of the few things they have left: she is losing her fight against cancer and has been losing parts of her life, family and memory as that fight has progressed.

My personal hospital experiences have all been to do with major traumas rather than illness, which I vastly prefer because if you don’t die in the first couple of days, you usually start mending and you can immediately make plans to make the best of whatever you’ve broken. Rees Brennan, however, famously wrote a very funny, very horrible, ‘Kids, you won’t believe what shenanigans your girl’s been up to now, it’s only stage four Hodgkins lymphoma!’ post on her Tumblr or LJ (someone who has been hit in the head with taxis fewer times than me will doubtless factcheck that in the notes) about seven or eight years ago and then faced the very serious business of trying to live. The hospital scenes are painfully authentic, as are the stories of people who have left Rae as she slipped further out of everyday life.

For Rees Brennan, a loving family and peer group were there to hold her as close as they could. For Rae, only her beloved little sister, Alice, and Time of Iron, their favourite fantasy series, remain. They read the books together, remember adventures cosplaying and watching the musical, they wonder about the final instalment; for Rae it’s a joy she can still share (even if she doesn’t remember as much as she should), for Alice, it’s her two greatest loves. When a strange woman offers a door into the world of the book and a possible magical cure to Rae, she wants it as much as she disbelieves it.

Stepping into Eyam, the land of Time of Iron, Rae finds herself in the body of a villain doomed to die the next day. No worries! She’s thought and fought her way out of worse scraps than this in her past as a head cheerleader, let alone while battling cancer. She can use her knowledge of the plot to change things! If only she remembered more of the books…

Portal fantasies are common enough, but not all play by the same rules. This isn’t Narnia, where the magical world is more real than our own, for Rae, the world of the book is nothing more a tool to get her hands on the cure. She doesn’t need to care about any of these people, they’re not real. Most of them speak in a formal language that relies on the conventions of fantasy literature (there is an ongoing, warm-hearted skewering of all Game of Thrones-esque texts running through both the story and the in-text ‘quotes’ from Time of Iron) and half the characters are known more by their descriptions rather than their names. So she will play the Beauty Dipped in Blood, with her questionable morals, impractical clothes and centre-of-balance-distorting boobs for the weeks that will pass until the cure is available. Whoever she has to shuffle in the plot to secure a place beside that cure, she will shuffle. While she’s not out to kill anyone, it’s not as though they were ever really alive. Not like her. If she has to be the villain to survive, she will be an impeccable one. The people will cheer evil on!

Obviously, little goes to plan. Rae’s illness has taught her cruelty, but she hasn’t forgotten what it is to be kind. Even as she manipulates her role into ongoing main character, she realises that’s not how anyone gets a happy ending. That’s not how she can live with herself. As she comes to think of the other people in the story as real, they become more so, both in how we read them and in how they impact the story. Rae remembers what it is like to make friends, which she never meant to, but, oh, the luxury after years of watching people slip away!

As in previous novel In Other Lands, Rees Brennan has a long list of fantasy tropes to embrace and undermine, and her deft touch with humour is as evident as ever here, but her publishers call this her first adult novel and there is a shift in tone from her previous works. Anger is more real and lasting. Consequences are more significant. Understanding is reached for, even if it’s bitter. One of my favourite things is that she lets her female characters rage, but never judges those who can’t, whether because they’re too powerless or just too tired, and her male characters are allowed to be people if they choose to be — which all but the most vainglorious do.

I hadn’t paid much attention beyond checking the release date for the book, so didn’t realise it was the first in a series. For me, it worked perfectly as a standalone novel, even with the unended threads, which would have perfectly balanced Rae’s unfinished life. That said, I am very happy to know we will spend more time with these characters in the future. I want more. I do want to know if there is a hope for Rae, if this is the fever dream of a fading life, if this is the story Alice has told to ease her sister from the world or something else. There are a dozen characters I hope for, at least three happy endings that would bring joy. But don’t wait for the next books: sink your teeth into this one and believe what it says about the importance of listening to stories rather than just falling in love with characters. Though if you find yourself cheering on Rae, or her servant Emer, the elusive Eric, Horrible Hortensia or almost any of the others, I am the last person who will judge you.

[bridenore]

HD fic recs : Curses (part 1)

Here are a few recs dealing heavily with curses. This is part one of three and focuses on shorter fics (up to 30k). Listed in alphabetical order, as always.

Any Kind of Life by jeni_andtheafterthought [7k]

Despite being caught on opposite sides of a war, Harry and Draco find love. They promise to come back to each other once the war is over. However, no one is unchanged by war, and there are some things you can’t come back from. Draco was told to let Harry go, to leave his love behind and move on. He is told that Harry has changed. Draco doesn’t care how different Harry has become. A promise is a promise.

Close To Ever After by  oldenuf2nb / @dianacopland [15k]

When Harry Potter finds he’s been cursed, he withdraws from the world and prepares to die. But when have things ever gone the way Harry Potter planned?

Coming to Terms  by RurouniHime [16k]

Of all the lives in all the world, Harry had to own this one.

The Grotto by Libby Drew / Sansa / erin myecourt [23k]

Three years after Draco’s war crimes trial, the Wizengamot finally decides on his community sentence: help rebuild a village that was destroyed in the war. It sounds simple enough. Until Draco begins to unravel the mystery behind the assignment. 

If It Takes All Night by @tackytigerfic [10k]

It’s not the first time Harry’s been the victim of a botched curse (that’s one of the reasons he doesn’t like crowds), but he feels bad that Malfoy had to get caught up in it too. So they’re bonded. That’s ok, they just have to make sure to be touching at all time. No problem. Because Malfoy smells so nice, and has such lovely shiny hair, and his skin is so very warm. But this isn’t going to be a problem for their friendship at all. Is it, Harry?

In Pursuit of Lost Marbles by Theartfulldodger [22k]

Every night after work, Healer Malfoy follows the same routine, beginning with a familiar flight of stairs that leads to the Janus Thickey Ward at St. Mungo’s. With an air of professionalism, he introduces himself to Harry, his husband of seven years, when a memory curse makes Harry look at him like a stranger. He tries not to flinch when Harry calls him sir, but he smiles when bits of the old Harry emerge. Eventually, Draco leads Harry to the Pensieve where he shows him pieces of the life they’ve built together, what Harry will come home to, one day, when this is all over. Then, Draco waits. He waits, and he hopes.

Landslide by Libby Drew / Sansa / erin myecourt [ 24k]

Harry Potter disappears, taking a sick Teddy Lupin with him. While everyone searches for their missing hero, Draco’s life continues as it always has. Rumors of curses and kidnapping don’t interest him. As Hogwarts’ guardian, he has only one concern: the strange, miraculous events occurring on the cliffs outside the castle walls.

The Lip-Lock Jinx  by cassisluna [20k]

It’s a jinx that renders the victim mute, unless he/she serves the purpose of the jinx and kisses the person that they desire. It’s just Harry’s luck that he’s in love with Draco.

Lubido Mendax by @malenkayacherepakha [17k]

When Harry is hit by an old and alarming sex curse while on a job with Malfoy, he’s faced with an agonising decision. But it turns out that curing the curse was easy compared to everything that came next.

Normal Is the Watchword by lamerezouille [29k]

This story is about love and family and yes, maybe it’s not supposed to be about Jamie exactly, but Draco and Harry are very stubborn and Jamie’s just a kid, you can’t expect him to completely extract himself from a story he’s actually living, right?

Out of Sight, Out of Mind by Winterwolke [7k]

“Grey eyes snap up to him, but they’re not as sharp and calculating as Harry remembers. There’s pain there, making them dull and glazed over. It makes him ache in return, somewhere in a corner of his heart that he wants to rip out immediately after he registers it. It feels wrong to have this reaction to Draco Malfoy, but Harry can’t help it. The house is seriously messing with his mind.” Trapped inside a strange house with no memories of his life past eighth year, Harry struggles with what he doesn’t remember and the only person he can find: Draco Malfoy.

Something Always (Brings Me Back To You) by @kedavranox [9k]

The Centre for Magical Theory and Complex Spell Classifications keeps fucking with Harry’s dig sites, and he’s pretty sure Malfoy has ulterior motives.

A Tail as Old as Time by pervyunitwins [18k]

A tale as old as time. Only not really because Harry’s a werewolf who has run away from home and Draco is trapped in the manor and talks to inanimate objects. But somehow it works. 

Talk to Me by Saras_Girl [15k]

When the usual channels of communication are shut down, the most surprising people can find a way in. A strange little love story.

That which hurts (and is desired) by @shealwaysreads / onereader [19k]

Draco was lying still, and pale, on a bed in a private room in St Mungo’s. The sheets were white, clean, enchanted against stains, vanishing the blood that kept spilling out of him. He hadn’t moved in two days. Not a twitch of his elegant fingers. Not a blink of his fierce eyes. Harry couldn’t even see the faint flutter of his pulse in his throat from where he stood at the foot of the bed, helpless, impotent, furious. There is nothing Harry wouldn’t do for the people he cares about. As it turns out, that might bring him everything he’s ever wanted.

Truffles, Noble Lord of the Sky by megyal [10k]

Fuck fairies; and Longbottom, too.

I hope you enjoy these stories as much as I did!

[sameheart-sameblood]

Love in the Time of Cordyceps

pairing: joel miller x f!reader

summary: when the world ends, you promise you'll never love again. joel miller makes that rule hard to stick to

words: 7.1k

warnings: mentions of gore (pretty tame but still), swearing, sickness, angst, fluff, two dummies not realizing they love each other until one of them almost dies 🙄

a/n: this was supposed to be more angsty but then i remembered life is hard enough already. and i just want soft joel soooo here we are. also i meant to write 2k at most but boy do i love to ramble

read on ao3!

After the world goes to hell, you promise yourself you’ll never love again. A person, an animal, a place, nothing. Only a fool would choose to make themselves that vulnerable, needing every fiber of your being one hundred percent devoted to your survival and nothing more. 

Was a life without love worth living? Every time that question enters your mind, you swat it aside. It’s like a nagging fly that buzzes around you until your persistence finally drives it away completely. Of course you could live without love. You’d been doing it just fine these past fifteen years. 

Living without attachment proves useful in the new world you find yourself in. It makes the countless people you lose along the way easier to move on from. In the early days, your heart still twinges as the people around you drop like flies. Most fall victim to the bites of clickers, some to raiders’ gun, a few by their own hand. 

The first group you had travel with is filled with Midwesterners who see the terrors of the new world and still somehow have a smile and a joke for you. Their joviality can’t save them, though. Clickers swarm you one rainy night two years after the fall of civilization. The sight of Gail, a woman who reminds you of your grandmother, having her stomach ripped out by an especially voracious clicker cures you of your need for any connections to the living. 

Over the years, you make your way to the East Coast. Smiles, defiant in the face of adversity are replaced by permanent grimaces etched into the faces of everyone you meet. It seems as though every survivor has lost the ability for happiness of any kind. Good, you think, they’re finally learning. You wonder what took them so long. 

Tales of peace the Canadian wilderness has to offer reaches your ears. In your heart you know it is most likely a tall tale spread by desperate survivors. But the good thing about a zombie apocalypse is you now have nothing but time on your hands. Working your way north, if all goes well, you’ll reach Saint John by May, continue to Port Elgin and then decide if you’d try for Prince Edward Island or turn east to Nova Scotia. 

Plans are made to be broken, though, and yours, along with your ankle, break clean through one day as you make your way through Boston. It would have been over for you if not for the two survivors that find you nursing your injury in a department store that will most likely be swarming with clickers by nightfall. 

The woman, after she puts her gun away, introduces herself as Tess. The man doesn’t offer his name, preferring to keep the barrel of his shotgun pointed at you. As they argue quietly over what to do with you, you observe their faces. Both are etched hard with years of loss and worry. Even harder than your joyless face. It’s impressive albeit in a sad kind of way. 

Tess had somehow persuades the man to help you back to the Boston QZ. Joel. You hear her call him Joel. “Fine,” he had grumbles as he places your arm over his shoulder for support, “but if she scans red, I will not hesitate to put her down.” Oddly enough his threat somehow makes you almost like him. You sense a kindred spirit. Another follower of the “no love, no attachment” way of life. 

You do not, in fact, scan red and are allowed to enter the QZ. An apartment is assigned to you, a crappy little studio with faded lime green paint. The old you would have adored it, called it quirky and planned out how best to decorate it with your meager funds. The new you just appreciates a safe place to sleep. 

After your ankle heals, Tess invites you to join her smuggling scheme. Thoughts of Canada flee your mind for the time-being and you gladly welcome something to keep yourself occupied. 

“But what about the cowboy?” you ask. 

“Joel? What about him?”

Your eyebrows arch, “He threatened to shoot me.”

“Only if you were infected. Just don’t get infected.” She says it like you’re discussing the weather. 

Joel allows you into the group begrudgingly, probably because he thinks they can use you as bait or a distraction if needed. Fine. Let them label you bait. You’ve been called worse before. 

The first few months working together are tense. Joel reprimands you for the smallest mistakes and warns Tess you’ll get them all killed. At first, you bite your tongue, reminding yourself of the part he had in saving you. But one night after he scolds you for the millionth time about not checking your blind spots for clickers, you snap. “Fuck off, Joel! I survived the clickers for fifteen years. I think I know what I’m fucking doing!.”

He holds up his hands in surrender, wandering off with a hurt pout like he wasn’t the one who was just being the asshole. You wonder why your victory leaves you feeling hollow. 

After that, Joel keeps his mouth shut around you. No nagging, no “helpful” tips. Just the bare minimum of whatever he needs to convey. You’ll never admit that it hurts. You don’t have to, though. Tess, at the end of her rope, explodes one night as the three of you eat dinner in awkward silence. “Couple of fuckin’ babies I’m working with,” she seethes. “If you don’t grow up I’m finding a new crew.”

It’s decided that you and Joel will do the next supply run to Bill’s. Alone. No Tess there to act as buffer between you and him. Joel grunts at that but doesn’t argue, always deferring to your leader. The trip to Bill’s goes as well as you can ask. There are no arguments between the two of you at least. You’re sure you even see Joel crack a smile. Of course it’s when you clumsily tripped over a raised tree root…But hey, progress is progress.

With the supplies in tow and Frank’s compound behind you, you actually think this trip might be a success. A gang of raiders lying in wait to sabotage you dashes your hopes of that. They had seen the two of you lugging your supplies and thought it would be an easy win. At first, they are correct. They outnumber you and Joel in size and wickedness. The four of them aren’t content to kill you outright. They tie you up and discuss what to do with you next. 

Of course their attention quickly falls on you. The man with an ugly gash across his face leers at you. “Maybe we should keep her around awhile. She looks like fun.” Try as you might to act tough, that sends the blood rushing through your ears. 

You almost don’t hear Joel snarl at them. “You lay one finger on her and it’ll be the last thing you ever do.” The venom in his voice snaps you back to reality. While their attention is on him, you discreetly start ripping at your bonds with the little pocket knife you thankfully decided to stow in your back pocket. 

They beat Joel senseless by the time you get free. You honestly think you’re too late as you stab the goon nearest to you in the thigh, by some miracle hitting his femoral artery. The others turn to you, blindsided as you go wild at the sight of your bloodied and broken companion. Gash-Face comes roaring at you, all brawn no brains. The look of surprise as you lodge the knife in his neck makes you smile with sickening glee. 

The remaining two corner you, murder in their eyes. Your gun is just beyond them, taunting you to come retrieve it. The only “weapon” you have is the belt you’re wearing, it’s clasp heavy and silver. You undo it and swing it at the nearest man. He grabs it, cackling victoriously as he uses it to pull you closer. In their grasp, you become the target of their blows. You curl into the fetal position, angry that after all the near death experiences you’ve had, this will be the way you go out. 

A shot rings out, then another. Two thuds on the ground next to you make you open your already swollen eyes. As you look up, you realize your savior is Joel. Back from the dead. His face is covered in blood, like some kind of ghoul. But in that moment, you have never seen someone look more like an angel. The two of you limp back to the QZ where Tess nurses you as she simultaneously curses the deceased thugs. 

Joel corners you in the bathroom the next day as you study your bruised face. “You could have run,” he hisses at you, making you jump. You don’t know what he wants so you just shrug. He invades your space, making you back against the counter. “Why didn’t you run?” His voice has gone low, anger simmering just beneath the surface. 

Faces inches from each other, all you can muster is a weak, “We’re a team. I wasn’t going to leave you.”

Several emotions flicker across his face in quick succession. Anger, fear, worry and something you can’t quite put your finger on. Pride? Maybe that was you projecting but you hope you were right. Joel studies you for a moment longer, then reiterates, “Next time, you run.”

******

After that, things change. Joel is still a man of few words but the ones he does grace you with are softer and more intentional. Instead of berating you for the knowledge and skills you lack, he takes them time to teach you. He shows you how to identify fake ration cards and to spot the kind of guard you can bribe. Nights are spent with you following behind him like a shadow as he shows you all the secret ways in and out of the QZ. When your hands shake during target practice, he places his calloused ones over yours. It steadies your hands but frays your nerves, threatening to awake a feeling long thought dormant. 

It goes both ways. Joel lacks attention to detail in certain situations and you show him how to read people and ascertain their flaws that can be exploited. During your runs you point out the flora that can be consumed safely or used as medicine. At Flynn’s, the only bar in the QZ, you teach him how to play pool. An essential to survival? No. But it sure helps you win a huge stash of ration cards from your fellows survivors. It also gives you an excuse to sidle up behind him and mold your body around his, all in the name of helping him get the “proper pool stance.”

Your excuses to fleetingly touch one another became more and more common. They are all perfectly innocent but carry the weight of something elicit, at least to you. Joel is never one to give away his innermost thoughts, happy to wear a permanent poker face. For all you know he couldn’t care less about you. Maybe he just knows keeping you alive is good for business and that’s why he takes a particular interest in making sure you’re safe. Whatever the reason, you hope he never stops. 

******

During one supply run, a torrential thunderstorm forces you to spend the night at Bill and Frank’s. You know it makes Joel nervous to be indebted to anyone for such hospitality but you can’t hide your glee. A night there means a cozy bed and a hot shower, something hard to find in your home where the water runs tepid at best. 

Afterwards spending way too long in the bathroom, you curl up in your bed, toasty and content, only to find sleep won’t not come. Your hosts are dear to you, even the grumpy Bill, but their snoring through the wall you share makes hopes for a deep sleep impossible. 

After an hour of tossing and turning, you decide to go make your bed on the couch. As you tiptoe down the stairs you run into Joel, on his way up . “Going somewhere?” he drawls, exhaustion making his voice deeper than usual. You shrug, “Couldn’t sleep. There are two buzzsaws in the room next door.”

Joel chuckles, “I’ve had that room before. Can’t say it was the best night of sleep I’ve ever had.” You lived for these little snippets into Joel’s life before you came around, always eager to hear more. But the trek to the house through never-ending sleet and over the turbulent river left you more tired than you had felt in years. Right now all you want is to get where you could pass out immediately. “I’m just gonna make camp on the couch,” you say, stifling a yawn. 

Joel shakes his head. “You take my room. The couch is good enough for me.” This man. Hadn’t anyone told him chivalry is dead. You sigh tiredly and beckon for him to come back up the stairs with you. “It’s a big bed. We can share.” There is silence behind you where there should have been footsteps. Joel’s smile disappears as his forehead creases in thought. “Please,” you pout, “I can’t sleep in my room and I won’t get any rest knowing you’re crammed on that dainty little loveseat.”

It takes far more coaxing than it should but finally Joel gives you a little nod and follows you into his - your - room. You gesture to the bed, “Care which side you get?” Joel thinks, then shrugs. “Left is good.” You flop onto the right side, eyes immediately drooping shut. Once again, there is no movement from your companion. Without opening your eyes, you chide him, “If you’re gonna be weird and watch me sleep all night then you can go sleep on the couch.” That got him moving again. 

The sound of the shower turning on lulls you to a sleep that is disturbed only when you feel the dip of the bed several minutes later. You watch through barely opened eyes as Joel does a strange shimmy under the covers. It’s clear he’s trying his best not to wake you. The sight makes you laugh softly and his head whips to you. 

“Thought you were asleep,” he murmurs. 

You hum, “I was. You woke me up.” 

It’s meant to be a joke but Joel grimaces. “Sorry.”

The sight is sweet and your heart flips, his frown making him look almost boyish. “It’s ok. It’s your bed.” 

As you burrow into your cocoon of blankets, Joel props himself up, a pillow behind his back. He looks from you to the bedside lamp and back again. “You mind if I read for a few minutes?” 

That surprises you. In all your time together you had rarely seen Joel do something just for the pleasure of it. There was usually no time. But Bill and Frank’s is a sanctuary and even the hyper-vigilant Joel Miller is able to slow down here. You nod enthusiastically, perking up. “What are you reading?” 

It’s like you had asked him what his darkest secret was. He reddens, then finally grabs a book from the table. Pride and Prejudice. He stammers, “It’s just…I never had a lot of time for reading before and this was a favorite of…it was a favorite of somebody I knew.”

“You can read out loud to me if you want,” you offer with a grin. Honestly it was half in jest and half a serious hope. It had been decades since anyone had read aloud to you. Joel, always thinking you were making some sort of fun of him, smirks sarcastically. “Not a chance.” 

Your glower slowly melts away at the sight of him putting on his reading glasses and settling in. Silently you curse as you feel your hardened heart crack just the tiniest bit. Idiot that you are, you try to talk yourself out of your own feelings. You aren’t attached to Joel. How could you be? He’s just a handsome, rugged man who keeps you safe and reads Jane Austen in his spare time. Maybe some lesser fool would fall for him but not you. No, sir.

The next morning, you find yourself curled into him, chest pressed against his back and arm draped over his side. Like a bomb diffuser, you carefully try to extricate yourself from the position, every movement slow and precise. Joel, still asleep, lazily grabs your hand, keeping your arm around him. He sighs contentedly as you settle back down and you swear under your breath, nestling your head at the crook of his neck. You are so that lesser fool. 

******

The thunderstorms of summer give way to the pleasant days of autumn. Those good days don’t seem to last long enough. You should have appreciated them more while they were there but so is the way of being human. 

Winter in Boston isn’t fun. Ok that’s an understatement. It makes you long for the soul-sucking, never-ending Midwestern winters you had lived through for most of your life. There is something about being next to the ocean that makes everything feel colder. 

The nights are especially hard, the wind seeping through the cracks in the walls of your apartment. No matter how many blankets you tuck around yourself, your body never truly feels warm. Runs to Bill’s or anywhere outside the QZ become less frequent and more difficult. Only those deemed truly necessary are attempted and even then there is always a long discussion beforehand weighing out the pros and cons. 

Runs between the months of November and January are too risky and after much debate, it  is decided you three would lay low in the relative safety of the QZ. In the meantime, you’d assess your stockpile, make connections over the radio and wait for the spring thaw. With less food smuggled in from the outside, you decide to put your energy into earning ration cards. Even though no one could argue you don’t pull your weight in the group, you often feel like the weak link. Making sure Tess and Joel have a hot meal every night is the least you could do. 

Joel had always told you to stay away from sewer work. It paid double what the other jobs did but at a high risk. Besides not being able to wash the stink off for days, the tunnels under the city were treacherous. Many had gone down there only to be blindsided by a stray clicker or jumped by a loner who made their home away from society up above. Some just got lost in the labyrinth, never to be heard from again. Or at least you had been told. You hoped those were just myths. 

You and three other desperate souls are sent down to the sewers with the task of clearing the rubble from a recent cave in. A hard day’s work definitely but you were optimistic that you could get it done in a few hours time and be on your way.

The first few hours go well, the biggest pieces of the concrete being cleared easily enough. Your back aches and callouses quickly form on your palms. But still, all of that you can deal with, mollifying yourself with the thought of the stack of ration cards you’ll proudly gift to Joel and Tess. 

Maybe if you hadn’t been daydreaming you would have heard the shouts of your fellow volunteers sooner. Finally coming back to reality, you move just in time to avoid another piece of falling rock. You save yourself from being crushed but lose your footing, coming down hard on your shin. 

A stream of bright blood instantly trickles from the gash and you swear as you try to keep the tears that spring to your eyes at bay. Wanting to prove yourself, you brush off your group’s insistence that you go get it checked by the doctor. It doesn’t matter if you complete ninety percent of your shift. You still don’t get your payment if you leave early. So you suck it up for another hour, slogging through the muck as you finish the job. It’s fine, you tell yourself, it’s just a scratch. You’ll wash it off when I get home and be good as new. 

With the job done and ration cards tucked away in your pocket, you hobble back towards your apartment. The thought of a shower, as lukewarm as it will be, is the only thing keeping you upright. That is until you feel someone putting your arm around their shoulder. Joel helps you the few blocks to your house, his icy silence hurting you more than the cut that now throbs with every jostle. 

It’s only after you get inside and are deposited on the couch that Joel speaks. He rolls up the leg of your jeans, cursing as he sees the already festering wound. “I told you to stay out of the sewers.” 

You suck in a pained breath as he starts wiping away the dirt. “I’m fine. It’s just a little cut. Besides, it was worth it,” you pull out the stack of ration cards and present them to him proudly. The sight gives him pause. But the look on his face isn’t one of gratitude, it’s worried exasperation. His signature grimace returns, “It’s not worth it if you lose your leg.” And people claim you’re dramatic. 

Pushing him away with a shoo, you rise, limping to the bathroom. “I just need a shower. Then I’ll be right as rain.” As you peel off your now ruined clothes, Joel hovers on the other side of the door. “I can hear you pacing,” you call over the sound of the warming shower. 

Even through the almost closed door you can hear Joel sigh. “I just think we should take you to the doc. Make sure you’re alright.” The water hitting you makes you audibly moan, the filth on your body washing down the drain and with it, the memory of the hard day. You appreciate the concern but all you want to do know is forget about the day. You call out to a still pacing Joel, “I’m fine. You worry too much!”

******

It turns out Joel worries the right amount. Of course he does. As eager as you are to forget about your day, it’s not long before you can’t ignore your leg. The wound is an angry red and the area around it has swollen, leaving it tender and throbbing. Thankfully you have Joel there to dress it because, honestly, you can’t stomach the sight of it. These past years have been filled with much blood and gore at your own hands. But there’s something different when it’s your own blood. 

In any other circumstance you would have reveled in the feeling of Joel holding your leg so tenderly, his fingers brushing against your skin as he wraps the bandage around you. It would have driven you insane seeing him crouched in between your legs as he is now. But at the moment all you can think about is how you much pain you’re in. 

You try not to show your discomfort, but your poker face is nonexistent. Joel’s eyes flick up to yours as you slowly exhale, trying to keep calm. Avoidance has always been one of your favorite tactics when dealing with uncomfortable situations so you pipe up, overly perkily, “See? All better. Now about those ration cards, I was thinking for dinner-“ 

Joel rolls his eyes, standing with a groan, his knees audibly cracking. “The only thing you’re gonna do tonight is rest.”

You slowly turn your body to prop your leg up on a pillow as he watches. Pouting has never worked on Joel but you figure it never hurts to try. “I still have to eat,” you mope. 

“You will. I’ll open a can of soup or something.”

The disappointment is real and bubbles to the surface quicker than you realized it would. “I just wanted us all to have a nice dinner. You and Tess do so much and I feel like…” Thinking how you feel is different from saying it out loud and you have to psych yourself up. Joel’s softening gaze helps you continue. “I feel like I’m useless. I just thought this was one thing I could do to really contribute.”

The silence between you feels heavy as you avoid his stare. Finally, he speaks, confusion contorting his features, “Of course you contribute. We wouldn’t have kept you around if you hadn’t.” It’s meant to make you feel better but it doesn’t, especially in your current laid up state. 

“So are you going to get rid of me if I’m no longer useful?” you gesture at your leg, feeling your eyes beginning to sting with tears. 

Joel sits down next to you. Your fear has made you defiant and you meet his gaze, wanting to fight. But Joel speaks in a soft, level voice, as if teaching a child a lesson. “First of all, you’re going to get better. You just need to be patient. Second, you’re thinking there’s only one kind of way to be useful.”

“I can’t shoot like you two can. I can’t fight. I can’t threaten people into getting what I want. I can go on runs and earn ration cards. That’s it. I’m too soft for anything actually important.” 

Joel frowns, “You say that like it’s a bad thing. ‘Being soft’ in a world like this is an act of defiance. It’s brave as hell. What you consider important? I don’t want that for you.”

Warmth spreads through your chest as you observe him. He’s trying so hard to find his next words, to make you believe his truth. “Me and Tess, we let the world harden us more than it needed to. It was easier that way. But having you around reminds us there’s still innocence and good out there.”

The angry tears have turned to ones of gratitude. The sentiment is too much for you, unused to such vulnerability from Joel. You give him a small smile and he returns it, leaning over to wipe a tear off your cheek. “You’re useful just being you.”

While you still wish you matched Joel and Tess’ levels of badassery, the conversation helps ease your mind. You might not think much of your survival skills but you remind yourself that you’ve stayed alive in a world that wants you dead. Fifteen years you’ve been fighting and surviving and that’s nothing to look down on. 

“And for what it’s worth, “ he adds, “you scared the hell out of me the first time we met.”

You grin at him, shocked, “Really?”

He nods, smirking cheekily, “Really. Still do sometimes.”

******

Joel heats up a can of tomato soup for you to share. You try not to think of how old it must be as he prepares it. But actually, it’s not bad, the taste reminding you of your childhood. 

It also helps that you’re sharing it with someone you care about. A part of you hates that how easily you’ve let him into your heart. The one thing you swore off all those years ago is now all you can think about as you watch him sitting across from you, ladling out the steaming liquid. 

He catches you staring and breaks the silence, “Were you even going to tell me you got hurt today if I hadn’t run into you.” The fuzziness of your feelings for him makes your brain a little mushy and instead of having a grownup conversation, you reply with a childish, “No, I thought I’d let it be a soup-rise.” 

Joel rolls his eyes in mock annoyance. You chuckle and continue eating your rapidly cooling dinner. You sober up a bit and add, “The extra ration cards will be good, though. Right?” 

He nods, “Yeah. I think it’s soup-er.” His eyes flick up to yours as they crinkle, the only sign that he finds himself amusing. 

After dinner, Joel excuses himself to go work his overnight shift. When he leaves and you’re left along, the throbbing in your leg returns with a vengeance along with a mild fever. Your usually chilly apartment now feels stuffy and you have to remove all of your layers except your t-shirt to be even somewhat comfortable. 

Worry creeps in as you sit there, alone and increasingly unwell. You long for the company of Joel or Tess, anyone to reassure you that you’re fine. But you’re alone and the dark thoughts creep in, whispering in your ear that whatever is brewing is not good. Unsure of what else to do, you slip in to bed, hoping that whatever this is will be better by morning. 

******

You don’t wake for two days. Or at least, you have no real memory of the past 48 hours. Later, when the worst is over, Joel will tell you the details of that lapse in your memory. He’ll recount how you faded in and out of consciousness, sometimes submitting to your fever for so long that he wasn’t sure you were coming back. His voice will waver as he remembers how bad it got and how fragile you looked…

But for now, he stays by your side, foregoing his own health to make sure you stay alive. The first thing you remember is waking up to the sounds of Joel and Tess arguing in hushed tones. 

“We need to get her to a doctor. Now.” Joel’s voice sounds strained, like he’s trying desperately not to lose it. 

Tess still maintains her signature composure. “We can’t, Joel. It’s too late for that.”

Joel must make some kind of face because Tess sighs and re-words. “It’s too late to take her in because if we bring her to the hospital all they’ll focus on is her fever. They’ve put people down for way less. You know that.”

In your addled state, you wonder who they’re talking about. Your throat hurts to much to speak up though and ask. 

“The doc will give us the meds. We’ve bribed him before.” 

Tess shakes her head, “Antibiotics are on lockdown. Shipments have been delayed because of the weather. No one gets any without FEDRA knowing. Breaking in guarantees we get caught. We’re no good to her dead. ”

Joel scoffs, “So what do you suggest we do?”

“She rides it out.”

“She’s been ‘riding it out’ for two days. Look at her,” Joel’s voice gets closer as he peers down at you, “she’s fighting but she’s losing.”

Oh. Fever may have taken hold of you, making your brain fuzzy and concentration near impossible, but you understand now that you are the subject of their argument. For Joel to sound so forlorn you must look bad. 

If you’re dead soon, you want to let them know to leave it and just let you slip away. Your well-being means nothing if it puts them in unnecessary danger. Rule be damned, they’re your family now and you care about them. If you’re being honest, you’ve cared about them since you met them. It breaks your heart thinking you won’t be able to tell them that now. It nearly kills you right then and there to know you won’t get the chance to tell Joel you love him…

Opening your mouth to articulate all of that takes great effort and when you do try and speak, all that comes out is a strangled groan. The two rush over, Tess sitting down beside you. She takes your hand, an uncharacteristic show of tenderness. Yep, you’re dying. 

“You’re ok, kid,” she whispers, “you just have to hang in there.” It would be easy to ignore reality and blindly trust her. But you’ve always been stubborn and so you shake your head and continue trying to speak. Again, nothing comes out but garbled nonsense as you writhe around trying to make your limbs do what your brain wants. 

You must look a sight because Joel lets his anger overflow. “Maybe you can sit here and watch her die, but I can’t.”Heavy footsteps and Tess yelling are all that you can focus on as you fade back into oblivion. 

******

Living is hard and unconsciousness is addicting. Peaceful and cozy are feelings you can scarcely remember having. It would be easy to stay in that enveloping darkness but the feeling of the back of someone’s hand on your clammy forehead pulls you back to the realm of the living. You grumble weakly as you’re made to come to. 

Everything is painful. Stabbing jolts of electricity radiate up your leg from the cut. Your chest is tight, making breathing troublesome and your eyes can barely stand the dim, watery sun coming through the shades of the window. Someone places a damp cloth on your forehead to keep the fever at bay. Still out of it, you try and swat it away. 

A gentle hand grabs yours, shushing you. “It’s alright. It’s only me.” 

Joel. Maybe you have died and this is heaven. The man you love by your side, nursing you so tenderly. It’s more than you could have ever hoped for. This might be the afterlife believers talk about if only you weren’t in so much pain. The neurons in your brain begin firing more rapidly as your fever dies down. They remind you that you and Joel aren’t lovers. Your cowardice, disguised as intelligence, has kept you from telling him how you feel. 

“What’s happening?” Your voice comes out croaky and soft but at least it’s intelligible. The bed dips as Joel moves closer to you. As you peer up through barely opened eyelids you can see him leaning over you. His tired eyes look down at you as he caresses your hair. 

“You got real sick, honey. That cut you got festered and turned into a fever. We thought we were gonna lose you.” The slight falter in his voice makes your already tight chest contract. 

“How long was I out?”

“Three days. We got you some meds, though. You’re gonna be ok.” He says it firmly, which does some good in easing your worry. 

Trying to open your eyes a bit more you continue your questioning, “Where did you get the antibiotics from?”

Joel hesitates, “Bill and Frank had some.”

You try and sit up, angry that he made that trip and put himself in danger. Even now, you can see the snow whipping around outside your window. Knowing he made the trek there and back through that storm makes you curse. Joel tuts and puts a gentle hand to your chest, keeping you down and resting. 

“It’s done. No use getting angry about it now.”

You glare up at him even though you’re really just upset with yourself. “Why would you do something so stupid?”

His smiles peacefully down at you, exhausted but eyes bright. “We’re a team, remember?”

It’s too much for you to handle. You cover your face just in time to hide the angry, relieved and grateful tears that spring to your eyes. Silent sobs wrack your frame, making you seize with pain. 

Joel pulls you into him, shushing you as he resumes stroking your hair. You hide your face in his side, trying to regain your composure. Crying shouldn’t be something you feel the need to earn. But you’re all sorts of broken, so you take this rare opportunity to not judge yourself and weep with abandon. You almost died, for Christ’s sake. Surely that warrants some show of emotion.

After a few minutes, the tears stop and your breathing calms. Peeking up, you see Joel has his eyes closed. His face is the most serene you’ve seen it in ages, most of the worry lines softened. There’s still a few that refuse to relax, though. The crease in between his eyebrows remains stubbornly indented. You gaze up at him as he continues to run soothing patterns along your back. 

Feeling the weight of your stare, he opens his eyes. Coward that you are, you glance away. “Thank you,”is all you can mumble out as he gazes at you. After a moment, you add a shy, “I would do the same for you. You know that, right?”

Joel pulls you gently into him, almost to remind himself you’re still here with him and that the danger has passed. He nuzzles into your hair, murmuring an affectionate“I know, honey. I know.”

******

After a few more hours and another dose of antibiotics, you begin to feel more like yourself. Joel still won’t let you get out of bed yet, except for a trip to the bathroom for a quick shower. Even though you’ve been dead to the world for much of your ordeal, you’re quickly getting bored with bed rest. But you’ve learned long ago that resistance is futile with Joel. So you shower like a good patient, scowling as the water hits your scabbing cut. 

Once you finish, Joel hops in and washes the grime and worry of the past three days off. As you settle back in bed, you can hear him singing softly to himself. Through the patter of the water you can hear his soft rendition of Fleetwood Mac’s Songbird. It’s one of your favorites, too, and you hum along as you settle back into your pillow. 

After a few minutes, sleep still won’t come. You toss and turn as Joel finishes getting ready for bed. He comes in to find you still awake. “I thought I told you to get some sleep.” He says it like a loving mother gently scolding their rebellious child. 

You flail as you try and get comfortable. You shoot back a moody, “But I’m just not tired.” Joel chuckles as he sits down into the arm chair next to your bed. He smooths back his wet hair and gives you a faux stern look. “Your body’s been through a lot. You need rest.”

“What are you doing?” you ask. 

Joel looks confused, wondering what he did wrong. “Sorry I just thought I’d sleep here tonight in case you need anything. I can leave, though.” 

“No!” you yell out, completely abandoning any hope of looking cool. You give him an apologetic smile, “I want you to stay but you’re not sleeping in that chair one more night.”

Joel glances to the spot on the bed beside you, then looks to you for confirmation. He sighs, a smile playing at his lips. “If I stay will you promise to go to sleep?”

You nod very seriously. “Of course.”

Joel grins, knowing you too well to believe you. “Liar,” he chuckles but still gets up and makes his way to the other side of the bed. You pull back the blankets so can get in, then cover him up. Settling on your side, you watch as he suddenly looks lost, unsure of what to do now. It’s cute, this powerful man rendered helpless by something as innocuous as sharing a bed. 

You can’t help but laugh at him and he looks down at you, eyes wide. Taking pity on him, you make a suggestion. “If you’re not tired you could read to me.” Joel opens his mouth to refuse but you blurt out a quick, “I did almost die, you know.” He glares at you but his lip quirks up. He grabs the book from the other room then flops back down in bed, opening to a spot in the middle. 

Frowning, you reach out to touch Joel’s arm. “Do you mind starting from the beginning?” He rolls his eyes but flips back to the first page. You grin triumphantly as you settle into his side. Joel places his arm around your shoulder as he begins to read. “It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single man in possession of a good fortune, must be in want of a wife…” 

His southern drawl mixed with the Romantic Era style of writing makes for an amusing but  pleasant combination. After a few chapters, your eyes get heavy and Joel feels you nodding off against him. Jane has just been invited to Netherfield Park but even that can’t keep you awake. Joel puts the bookmark in to save your spot and places the novel on your bedside table. 

You grumble in weak protest as he tucks you in and turns off the light. “We can keep reading tomorrow. But right now you’re going to sleep.” Joel lies down beside you and with the pale light of the moon through your curtains you can see him studying you. He caresses your face and you close your eyes, delighting in the sensation. 

“Don’t ever scare me like that again,” he whispers. 

You force your eyes open, needing him to see the truth of it when you pledge a soft,“I won’t. I mean it.”

Joel nods gratefully and you reach out for him. He slides into your arms and you rest your chin on the top of his head. He’s watched over you for long enough. It’s your turn to take care of him and reassure him that, in this moment, you both are safe. 

For most, an outright admission of affection is needed to understand how you feel about the other person. But you and Joel are cut from the same cloth, stubborn and slow to reveal your feelings. In this world, for people like you, ’I love yous’ are rare and replaced with actions and deeds. 

You realize that even though you've never told Joel that you love him, you’ve shown it. Joel has been showing you all this time too and you were just too dull to realize it. While you know you’ll long to say the words to him soon, for now it’s enough to have him in your arms. 

Joel’s breathing deepens and you feel him completely give himself over to sleep. Looking at his face bathed in the moonlight he looks like a new man. His edges soften and his vulnerability brims to the surface. It tugs at your heart and you understand how rare of a sight this is for Joel to allow anyone to see. 

Smiling sleepily, you close your eyes and nestle into him. This feeling coursing through you is something foreign but familiar, an old friend you thought you had said your final goodbye to long ago. The love you have for Joel will leave you vulnerable. But it’s a price you’re willing to pay a thousand times over. 

******

[avocado-writing]

Recently started play BG3, only on act 2 right now lol. I found your blog because this shit is my current hyper fixation and I love your writing. I was wondering if you could write how the BG3 cast would react to Tav haveing hanahaki disease.

Love you're writing!

Astarion

Oh, when he notices, he feels an odd lurch in his chest.

You’re in love with someone? Who? It had better be him, he’s put effort into seducing you.

When he works out that he’s the object of your desire he’s over the moon! And then… ah. But it is a disease after all.

A lot of intense emotions flow through him. Of course he loves you, he’d be a fool not to. But can he admit that to you? Open his heart enough to let you in?

He sees you hacking up blood red roses and thinks, gods, if a few simple words are all this will take to solve it, why wouldn’t he?

He sits down next to you as you wipe your mouth, all awkward angles and longing gazes. Not his usual suave self at all. You go to ask him what’s wrong, and he blurts out that he loves you like he’s under duress.

You blink, amazed if slightly mortified by his tone, but then your lips curl into a smile. When you kiss him your mouth tastes of rosewater. Never does another petal pass your lips, and never does Astarion regret his confession.

Gale

When he sees you bringing up Sussur petals, he panics. It’s affecting your magic after all. Slowing your spells and causing lethargy in your casting.

He throws himself into research. Night and day he’s in his books looking for a cure. He rarely sleeps any more. Not until he comes up with a solution for you.

You’re getting worse and he’s being driven mad by it. If he could find out who you love he could help, but he simply has no idea…

Silly wizard has no idea the solution is right under his nose. Always has been. Because of course he loves you too, wants nothing more than to hold you and have you as his.

It takes the rest of the camp pointing it out to him before he realises, and doesn’t know how he could be so dense… but he knows he’s the luckiest man in the world if you love him.

He confesses in the middle of your coughing fit. The petals stop immediately. He would seal the look of adoration you give him into his heart forever.

No more Sussur. No more problems. Just joy.

Wyll

He’s seen this a dozen times in his youth. Time and time again people have perished from their courtly love in a flurry of flowers.

When he sees it happening with you? Oh, he knows immediately what is happening.

Doesn’t believe you’d be in love with him… but then he sees the loving looks you give him, the softness in your eyes. It clicks into place rather quickly.

And when he realises, you best bet he’s making a move to cure you.

An immediate embrace. A kiss where he tastes the petals on your lips. Your eyes are wide, but your throat is clear.

“I love you,” he states, no hesitations, just facts. There will be time for great romance later, but right now he just needs to make sure you’re safe.

When he’s certain your condition is cleared, no more coughing, he embraces you long and lovingly. Tells you what you mean to him. And when you plan your wedding… there will be no flowers.

Karlach

Panics when she finds you coughing petals. She might have been in Avernus for the past decade, but she knows hanahaki when she sees it.

Corners you one night and begs you to tell her who you’ve fallen for. She’ll help you confess!! After all, how could anyone not feel the same about you? Anything is better than this, this purgatory of petals where love is being kept secret.

Your smile is wobbly when you tell her there might be a time span on this person’s love. She thinks, oh, Gale? Because of the orb?

It takes a moment for things to fall into place. The way you look at her. Like she hung the stars.

“Oh, fuck. It’s me isn’t it?”

You go to leave, she grabs you and holds you back. Pulls you into a kiss. Only stops to tell you that she loves you. Goes right back to kissing.

It’s then she decides not to die. To find a way to live with you, even if it means returning to hell. How could she abandon you, when you love her so much?

Lae’zel

She is so utterly confused when you start hacking up petals. Is it a disease? Some sign of weakness? It is certainly nothing that a gith has ever experienced, nor would fall foul of. They are too strong.

Lae’zel mocks you at first, like she mocks everything, but it’s in order to hide how much seeing you suffer hurts her. She is a fool to have affections for someone so weak.

… isn’t she?

One night she corners Gale (quite intimidatingly) and gets him to inform her of your condition. He tells her all about hanahaki, and she says she must find out who you are in love with and get them to return your affections.

Gale blinks. “Lae’zel… it’s you.”

Oh.

It takes her a moment to digest this. She leaves Gale abruptly (“goodbye then?”), finds you, and drags you to privacy.

“I have been told to cure your disease you need a confession of love. This is my confession.”

The petals do not stop as you cough. With a small smile, a little smug, you tell her she has to be more specific. She huffs and you laugh.

She tells you she loves you in every language she knows. It works.

Shadowheart

The most perceptive of the bunch, Shadowheart knows you are in love with her from the moment you cough up Night Orchid petals.

It’s not subtle that you’re sweet on her. But she doesn’t say anything in return - she’s a sharran, after all, and doesn’t know how you fit with her future of being a dark justiciar.

And then… she finds selûne, and it changes. All of it. Especially her view of you. She can open her heart without fear now and she wants to welcome you in it.

She takes you aside one night. Sets up dinner. A bottle of the wine you shared on that first night by the cliff. Takes your hand and tells you she loves you, as easily as if she’s commenting on the weather.

You stop coughing. The petals cease. Your face lights up. She knows she wouldn’t change this for the world.

[call-me-doll-face]

Thinking about.... pt. 2

Part 1

Reader who has ghost wrapped around her pinky finger as soon as she shoves the balaclava over the bridge of his nose, plump lips meeting his in a clash of tongue and teeth as they stumble into his apartment.

Its dirty, messy, spit dripping as tongues battle for dominance, thick scarred fingers tangling in soft hair as hers push the heavy weight of his worn leather jacket off his broad shoulders and onto the floor.

Smitten Ghost who is already obsessed with her sounds, and he hasn't even made her scream his name yet. Hasn't taken her apart piece by fucking piece until she's a delirious mess beneath him. Oh, but he plans to.

Smitten Ghost plans to wreck her world. Burn it to the ground and build it back up with him at the center. He's going to make her worship the ground he walks on, turning her into a fiending mess, him being the only drug that can cure her.

He's going to make her his.

Smitten Ghost whose hands grab the backs of your plush thighs and lift you effortlessly into those tree trunk like arms of his, powerful legs making long strides towards his worn in blue couch.

"Gon' make ya feel s'good, love. You wan' that? want me to-"

Smitten Ghost who grunts when her lips claim his once more, tongue pushing into his mouth and effectively shutting him up. His mind fogs as the sweet taste of berries burst over his tastebuds once more, the taste so distinctly her that he's sure he'll never find anything else like it.

"I like your mouth when it's used for something other than talking, pretty man."

Smitten Ghost, whose pretty brown eyes widen in surprise, a blush that he's happy his mask covers settling over his cheekbones, because when's the last time someone had the balls to talk to him like that? outside of the 141 of course…… Sure, everyone fucks around with Johnny and Gaz, occasionally Price, but never Ghost.

Reader who takes advantage of his astonishment, giggling at his expression as those tiny fucking hands, hands that ghost can’t stop thinking about, work his leather belt open.

She’s so hungry for him, so ready to have him buried deep that she doesn’t even care about the foreplay, instead, popping the button on his jeans and moving back just enough to yank them down, freeing the most beautiful cock she’s ever seen.

Her mouth waters as it slaps against his stomach, curving up slightly and a prominent vein along the underside, tip flushed a pretty pink and leaking pre-come. Gorgeous.

“Oh, now that I can work with.” The words come out a purr, not taking her eyes off him as she climbs back onto his wide lap. Smitten ghost grunts loudly at the first glide of her bare cunt, hips jerking up in surprise, not expecting to feel anything other than cotton panties separating them.

It’s been so fucking long.

“Such a dirty fuckin girl.” The sound of his palm making contact with the bare skin of her ass reverberates around the room, a little gasp leaving parted lips as she’s jolted against him from the force.

Smitten Ghost who lurches forward with every intent of pinning her little body to the cushions and making her come apart on his fingers, on his tongue.

“S’pretty, need ta taste ya.”

“Be a good girl, yeah, love? That pretty pussy going to come in ma mouth? She going to be good for me?”

The words are obscene, his accent getting deeper as those brown eyes darken even more, pupils dilated until there’s hardly any color showing at all.

Smitten Ghost who gasps loudly, surprised once again as she forces him back, pushing herself back onto him and not even giving him time to process before her nails are digging into his shoulders and that pretty little cunt is sucking him in.

“Wha- wait! What’re you- s…shit!” the force that he grips her hips with is almost painful, but oh so worth it as she watches his eyes roll back, jaw going slack as she continues to slide down his throbbing length, taking every inch with a delighted little hum.

Smitten Ghost who swears she was fucking made for him. Put in that bar by God or whoever fucking else, just for him to find and fuck. Taking him so well, walls so wet and warm and perfect.

“Died and gon to heaven, fuck. S’perfect. So fucken perfect. Gotta move, please, love. Come on, need you to ride my cock.”

Reader who just coos at him as she grins down at him, laughing at his rambling, watching as this big strong man comes apart at the seams beneath her, because of her.

Lifting her hips, she watches as his expression morphs into one of ecstasy before sliding back down, giving a few experimental grinds before she grows tired of going slow and sets a relentless pace.

The sound of skin slapping fills the living room, heavy balls slapping against her as his hips lift, arms banding around her back as he meets her thrust for thrust. Whines and whimpers mix with his deep grunts and groans, hot open-mouthed kisses traveling down her shoulder and chest before latching onto a rosy nipple.

A cry of pleasure leaves her lips as that skilled tongue twirls and flicks against the nub, teeth nipping and sucking until she’s perked and sensitive, pulling off with an obscene pop before giving the other breast the same attention.

Fingers move down to grip the globes of her ass, fingers dimpling the fat as he spreads her cheeks, lifting and pushing her down his shaft, working her on his cock.

Smitten Ghost who climaxes a lot sooner than he anticipated, than he wanted, desperate pleas of, “wait!”, “S…Mph! stop! Please, love, im- “, and “Fuck! Fuck, fuck, fuck!” Leaving his kiss swollen lips.

Smitten Ghost who spasms, eyes rolling back and back arching under her as he experiences the most earth-shattering orgasm he’s ever experienced.

Blunt nails dig into smooth skin, leaving little crescents in their wake, forcing her as far down as he can go as his hips rut up into her, thick seed painting her walls as he fucks it even deeper.

Reader who just giggles once he finishes, smacking a kiss to his parted lips before climbing off.

"Thanks for the ride.”

[bakugoushotwife]

kinktober day seven: edging kink

>>> i can just see kento being such a punishing dom like i can't help it?? i really hope you guys r enjoying so far! this marks the first week of kinktober &lt;3

>>> starring: kento nanami x curvy!fem!reader >>> cw: uh edging probably, possessive nanami, jealous nanami, he hates gojo lmao, one pussy slap, creampie, punishment. >>> wc: 2.8k >>> event masterlist

the way other sorcerers talked about nanami pissed him off. they always spoke about how boring and strict he was, so plain and simple. sometimes they even went so far as to question how he even managed to score you in the first place, much less keep you satisfied. how much more could you insult a man? sure, he kept to himself. he enjoyed keeping his private life private, and there was no harm in that. he found little reward in wearing his heart on his sleeve or bearing all that was important to him out in the open, considering that you were probably the only thing in that category anyway. his friends from school should find themselves grateful they even know about you, but to criticize the way he loves you? that’s intolerable. 

if his friends or coworkers asked you about your relationship, you would gush for hours about how attentive he is, list all the ways he spoils you rotten, sing that you’re the luckiest girl in the world. not to mention your sex life, goodness—he was by far the best you’ve ever had. that’s the best part about a boring mask, looks can be oh so deceiving. nanami was insatiable, and he had so many different moods. he was skillful, tender, and loving always, but that comes across differently in missionary than it does with you bent over the kitchen counter, doesn’t it? your body just so happens to be the cure for all his ailments, any concerns or worries that plague him are usually abandoned once he crosses the threshold of his home to see your sweet smiling face happy to see him. 

keyword being usually. today was especially bad. gojo’s insufferable as always, but now he even has yuji questioning him about you. all planned by the special grade sorcerer, no doubt, but still grating on his last nerves, nonetheless. 

“i didn’t know you were dating l/n-sensei!” yuji says, walking alongside his favorite mentor. gojo trailed them, trying to contain his giggles as he watches nanami’s back straighten. 

he sighs, adjusting his glasses up his nose a bit. “yes. she is my partner.” he says, letting his eyes slide to the side to examine itadori’s perplexed expression. 

“but she’s so—” 

“youthful, exuberant, charming and fun?” gojo interrupts as yuji struggles to find the words to explain his sensei-induced-confusion. itadori nods vigorously. 

“yeah! and she just seems like the type to be adventurous! you guys make a funny pair i guess! i always thought l/n and gojo sensei would end up together!” yuji explains with his signature innocence, no idea how biting that sentence felt. meanwhile gojo just watched with a fiendishly satisfied smile, able to recognize the clenching of nanami’s jaw for the jealousy that it was. and yuji kept going. “they just seem so close! they always laugh at each other’s jokes and eat lunch together!” 

kento’s brow drew up to his hairline at that, the infamous swells of envy stabbing deep in his chest. “oh? i had no idea they were such good friends. you know they say opposites attract. i suppose my maturity is what attracts her to me.” 

he doesn’t fool anyone, not even himself. all he can think about is itadori’s words and the smug expression on gojo’s face when he looked at him. and as tender and loving as nanami is, nothing can calm the jealousy running through his veins. as soothing as your presence is, nothing can keep the anger off of his face when he enters his home. 

your grin dissipates at the sight of his stoic irritation, and you wonder what could have happened at work today to garner this level of rage. he watches as you rise from the couch, where you already have your favorite show to watch together queued and waiting for him, no understanding of why he watched you like a predator. your smile is hesitant now, because you can read him so well and can tell he’s pissed. you approach anyway, taking his coat off with a peck to his cheek. 

“rough day, my love?” you frown, hanging his coat on the hook. he debates on what to say in response. is he angry? of course. at you? moderately, but he knows it’s unreasonable. he knows you love him more than breathing, and he trusts you more than anyone on the planet. but, you also know better than anyone how much he disdains satoru gojo. he’s been a pain in his side since he can remember, and you have quite literally always known that. even in school, you would tease him over his annoyance over the sorcerer. it got worse whenever you started working at the school with gojo. nanami was sure the white-haired menace would flirt with you if only to get under his skin—not to mention the possibility of him actually wanting you for himself. but it wasn’t your fault. you couldn’t help the fact that you’re gorgeous and bubbly and wonderful and all those things gojo described you as. you also couldn’t help the fact that the special grade sorcerer was the only person around that could stir up nanami’s feelings of high school envy and inadequacy. 

but you can help him get control back. 

“go get in bed for me, darling.” he replies, the muscles in his jaw ticking with every passing second. he’s staring through you, in a mental place far away from here. you know better than to question that tone, and the heavy set of his brow coupled with the intensity swirling in his woodsy brown eyes has you nodding obediently. you walk towards your room, feeling his angry stare against your back the entire way. you wonder if this has something to do with you, given just how irritable your fiancé seems. still, you can’t deny the flicker of excitement shooting down your spine as you peel your clothes off. you can hear the click of his shoes approaching as you crawl rather provocatively onto the bed. 

“itadori tells me you and gojo-san are so very close.” he says as he leans against the door way. he thinks it’s so cute how you wiggle your ass a bit to try and get out of the trouble you know is coming. gojo is a sensitive subject, and though you can’t see his face, you can tell by the tone of his voice that he is indeed sensitive about it. a slight fear creeps through your veins, but it tickles a dark corner in your brain. 

“he’s mistaken.” you purr back easily, laying flat on your back to look at him. he’s absolutely brooding, those deep set brown eyes boring holes into yours. he’s roughly loosening his tie, a mockingly amused smile tugging at his tightly drawn lips. you look good enough to eat, and he certainly plans on it. your body is such a treat, all spread out with that deer in a headlights look on your face. he can’t wait to show you why gojo could never come close. 

his brows inch upwards as he slips his tie off and starts working on the buttons of his shirt. typically, that would be your job, but this all played into nanami’s game. you’re already sucking in a deep breath at the sight of his toned and tanned physique, his dark blue button-up falling in a pile on the floor. 

“is that so? gojo himself seemed amused by the notion.” he drawls, the smoothness of his deep tone so silken and even you almost forget the storm brewing in his gaze. you watch his deft hands move towards his belt, undoing it easily as he waits for your next rebuttal. 

“we’re coworkers.” you enforce, looking at him with such surprise in your eyes. you knew kento had his issues with gojo, but you never thought he would seriously doubt you. “don’t be ridiculous, darling, please. you know how much i love you.” 

“and you know how much i hate him.” he spits out in reply, dark clouds covering the room. you gulp in an effort to escape some of the tension, your mind caught in between genuine worry and the heat you feel licking up your body at his possessiveness. you’re struck silent by the weight in his voice, the near growl that comes out. he slides his pants and boxers down in the same push, his erection almost as angry as he is. your thighs start rubbing together automatically at the sight of him, he’s perfect. he’s  long and curved, his hair perfectly trimmed to accentuate his pretty length. “yet i’m told you eat lunch together every day.”

there’s that tone again, that gruff snarl at you for playing right into the special grade’s hands—he’s warned you about this, about gojo’s manipulation. you shake your head in an effort of apology as at last, he pulls his glasses off and sets them carefully on the desk slowly to torture you with the sight of his god-like body. 

“more like once a week–kento please, it’s not like that at all! we lesson plan! he’s just trying to get to you.” you assure, biting your lip to keep from pleading for his touch. you’ve been laying here neglected for ten minutes now, but begging could possibly only make it worse. 

“it’s working.” he grumbles, his hateful stare making the desire multiply in your gut. he was always so tender and caring, but you had a feeling he would be anything but tonight. he sits at the edge of the bed and you subconsciously spread even wider for him. he rests his hand on your shin, rubbing rough circles on the flesh. nanami had to remind himself that you were his, and clearly you needed the reminder too. he lays flat on his stomach, aggressively keeping your legs parted. “always laughing together, hm? i hope you find this humorous, then, my love.” 

you go to respond, to try and sing your innocence one last time, but your feisty lover’s wet tongue silences any protests as it glides through your folds to bump up against your nerve bundle. your legs jerk up a bit in surprise, but his harsh grip keeps them from reacting too violently. normally, between your legs is kento’s favorite place to be after a long day, the ambrosia taste of you was the cure to any and everything, even now, he moans out in satisfaction. this time though has a frenzy to it, his tongue flicking over your swelling clit as his fingers dig into the plush beneath him. he knows the grip will bruise, but he couldn’t be bothered to care all that much at the moment. 

your hands fly to his honey locks, the feeling of his teeth grazing your need skillfully had the knot in your stomach coming loose with every passing second. he’s making animalistic noises as he devours you, the air quickly filled with the sounds of your meek pants. it’s so cute how you rut your hips into his face, desperately trying to chase your high. you’ve always been this way, so addicted to the feeling of his mouth on your sex that your body can’t help but beg for more. he can tell by the sounds that you’re making that you’re close, and he can’t help but grin to himself. 

you tug on his hair a bit harder, your other hand fondling your chest. he’s hungry and rough as he nibbles and laps, and you know you won’t make it much longer. that is until he pulls away, looking stern when your eyes fly open to meet his. you’re pouting already, tugging his hair again. “baby, don’t be mean.” 

he chuckles darkly at the whining, shaking his head. he likely won’t respond either, all part of the torture. you frown even deeper if possible, so annoyed with gojo right now that you may quit your job altogether. 

“kento–” you chide, wanting to fight for your right to cum, but he interrupts you with a harsh slap to your cunt. it makes your body jolt forward and a little squeal tears out of your throat, the sweet pain making your mind a little dizzy. he sits up, tapping his length against your clit now. it still makes you jump a little every time, the hazy look in your eyes after just one denial was so sweet it almost had him rethinking the punishment altogether. “i’m sorry, he’s just my friend, i won’t even talk to him any—” 

he stuffs his cock into you all at once, the burn and surprise making you gasp instead of finishing your sentence. his jaw is still hard set as he puts your knees over his shoulders, not caring about the vicious angle he makes while lifting your hips off the bed. he doesn’t want to hear any apologies, he doesn’t want you to make any promises, he just wants you to be so marked up and unable to walk when you see gojo tomorrow that no one ever questions him again. he plants his foot on the bed and starts driving into you, brutal and quick. his need to claim is obvious, he can’t stand that smug look on his fucking face ever, but especially not in regards to his woman. 

you don’t even have the opportunity to scream, his pace so punishing you can’t form a thought to speak out anyway. it hurts so good, how heavy he feels inside you, the sting from him colliding with your cervix over and over until your eyes are scrunched closed in pleasure. your core burns again, your hole flutters around him so prettily he knows he’ll only be able to go through with this from sheer determination alone. he can tell you’re about to come undone again, the little pants coming from your lips and the way you claw at his forearms is all the evidence he needs. he draws out to the tip, stilling and watching with slight amusement as you whine and pout again, moving your hips in an effort to keep him going.

“so mean to me, baby..didn’t even do nothing, please!” you huff, frustrated with his relentless denial. he knows exactly how to drive you crazy, sending you spiraling quickly. perhaps this is what he needed, to control you utterly and completely, to make you plead for him. “please ken, just wanna feel good, just want my man to make me feel good, i’ll be so good for you, i promise, won’t even talk to him no more!” 

he chuckles a bit, thrusting back in to stop your stupid babbling, as cute as it was. and yes, the begging was a slight boost to his ego. besides, you’ve almost learned your lesson, and he’ll need to let you cum for it to really sink in. he fucks you like he hates you again, turning you to your side, folding one leg over the other to make you his own personal pretzel. it lets him hit so deep you’re almost scared your organs will take permanent damage. you can’t hold back your wails, colorful orbs dancing across your vision as you mindlessly scratch at the headboard in front of you. 

“if you want to cum at all, do it now.” he commands, the roughness in his voice may have been enough to bring on an orgasm all by itself, but you have no problem following his orders with the way he pounds you. you nod because it’s all you can bring yourself to do, squeezing down on him and coating him in all the pent up release you’ve been denied. he quietly groans, dick jumping until he covers your insides. 

“oh darling, you can talk to him. in fact, i want you to. tomorrow, i want you to waddle into the teacher’s lounge and answer all of his questions.”

[ashthewaterghoul]

Girls Night With Copia

1.7k words of pure fluff based on these posts of mine X X

    The Ghoulettes are a force to be reckoned with.

    They’re as ferocious as they’re caring and no one would dare say ‘no’ to their asks, lest they say goodbye to their ability to walk the next day. Take that how you will…

    So, when Cumulus bumped into a very stressed looking Frater – his eye paint doing nothing to hide his tiredness, or the crow’s feet that seemed to have mutated into that of ravens – she declared a Girl’s Night was in order. And Copia would never say no, even if he wanted to.

    Copia found himself outside the Ghoulettes’ shared room that night, paint scrubbed off, in his pyjamas and a bag of wine bottles in hand as per usual - for each of the girls’ own tastes. Cirrus welcomed him in and Sunshine declared she would go first. Each Ghoulette had a role for their pamper sessions after all…

Read below the cut! Will be put on ao3 later, cba doing it rn lol

    Copia took his shirt off and hopped into their massive nest, face down and waiting for his masseuse.

    Sunshine popped the cap off of one of her jars of massage oils, infused with the herbs she can grow with her Earth affinity, and used her Fire affinity to help heat it up on her hands. Copia wouldn’t flinch when those hands would start roaming along his back, only relax. If he was a Ghoul, he knows he would start purring up a storm right about now. The girls were more than used to his groans of relief as Sunny expertly worked each knot from his muscles, and lifted more strain than he knew he was carrying. The Multi Ghoulette had long discovered that Copia carries his stress in his neck and between his shoulders and focuses most of her attentions there, and sometimes she even manages to crack a few joints while she’s at it.

    When Copia flips over, she gets to work massaging his front too. All along his arms and his plush stomach, putting some more pressure to her hands as she passes over his chest to provide some comfort like a weighted blanket- as if he wasn’t already relaxed enough anyway.

    The way she always declares Copia done was when she would lean over and kiss the tip of his nose with a giggle.

     “You feeling better, C?” She asked, smoothing back Copia’s hair, her own bouncy curls hitting him in the face a bit.

    “Much better. Amazing as always, solare.” He replied with a smile.

    He slowly sits up and stretches, feeling about ten years younger and back in the start of his Cardinal days.

    “Me next!” Aurora excitedly announced, bouncing on her heels as she waits for Copia to come over.

    Aurora is a lady and she keeps her claws sharp and pristine. Early on in her days topside, she took online nail art classes and is now a fully-fledged and qualified nail technician. She has boxes of polishes and equipment in with her belongings but tonight she only has out what she needs.

    At her little workbench, she has her files, polishes, curing lamps and, of course, a glass of wine. Aurora likes a sparkling zinfandel and it seemingly was the inspiration for her colour scheme tonight.

    Copia sat with his hands in bowls to soak off what little remained of his last Rory-cure, as the pack had taken to calling them, and talked through her plan.

    “So, your pinky, pointer and ring fingers are all going to be this colour,” she said as she showed off a shimmering bottle whose colour matched the pale, rosy pink of her tipple, “and then your thumb and middle are going to be a darker pink and I’m going to draw a pentagram in the shimmer, and some cool swirly shit. Kinda like what comes out of summoning portals.”

    “Sounds perfect, my love.” Copia smiled. He’d never say no to any of Rory’s designs and in the event he doesn’t like the look, he wears his gloves in public anyway. Although that hasn’t happened yet. Copia always loves his newest Ghoulette’s artistry and always feels more confident wearing it under his leather every day.

    Sunshine, now having her hands free, got to enjoy her glass of muscat alongside Cumulus’ own Sauvignon Blanc and Cirrus’ merlot. When Copia gets to his tall Air Ghoulette, he’ll finally get a glass too.

    Aurora focuses hard as she does Copia’s nails; making sure to file them to the length and shape he likes before applying some oil that smells absolutely incredible and he knows Dewdrop has tried to drink on more than a few occasions.

    When they’re both happy, Aurora will get to painting them. Using the best base coat she has and making sure not to flood Copia’s cuticle before curing the gel polish under the UV lamps and then starting to paint the colour and designs. After the top coat’s set, she spends a good 5 minutes having Copia pose his hands so she can take pictures for her ever-expanding portfolio.

    Then Copia hops back onto the nest, now clear of Sunny’s massage oils, and puts his head in Cumulus’ lap, looking up at her.

    “Hey, sugar,” She coos, “You got anything I need to look at today?”

    Cumulus’ facials were sought-after commodities that so few ever got. She was a full-on skin care guru who could easily craft up bespoke skincare routines in her sleep, knowing what each ingredient does and who needs what product in what order.

    “Ah, I have no complaints, cara.” Copia said, already closing his eyes as Cumulus’ cool hands got to work analysing his face. Copia wasn’t quite sure of the benefit of certain things, but he trusted his Air Ghoulette, and it all felt nice anyway.

    She painted on face masks and gently washed them off, doing specific ones on different areas of his face. She did a blackhead peel that always felt strange but Copia was long-used to the sensation. She always paid special attention to the skin on Copia’s top lip and around his eyes that were usually always painted as it often got dried out from the near-constant product wear. It used to be a concern for his whole face when he was Papa and wore his skull paint, and she was always in charge of helping him wash away all the paint and take care of his skin afterwards.

    She glided cool massage globes across his face, and used a gua sha too. She rubbed in toners and serums and cleansers and moisturisers until Copia was sure her magic had managed to de-age him.

    “Fresh as a daisy.” She said with a kind smile as she finished applying the last of the products.

    “Grazie, Lu.” Copia said with an equally kind grin as his Air Ghoulette took off the hairband he’d had on and helped smooth back his hair again.

    “You’re very welcome, C-bear.” She said with a boop to his nose as she got up.

    Copia sat up in the nest, and Cirrus sat next to him, a glass of merlot in hand and one she gave to her summoner.

    “Thank you, Cirrus.” Copia said as the taller Ghoulette shifted to be right beside him, ready for her turn in the Copia-Pampering-And-Destressing-Carousel.

    “Thank me later. Now, tell me how being Frater Imperator is treating you.” She said with a mischievous smirk.

    Cirrus was infamously the Ministry’s gossip monger. Any tiny crumb of a story she would eat right up and add it to her ever-growing bank of knowledge. As she went around the Siblings, getting her tales and rumours, she discovered a talent she had. She had this incredible ability to pick people’s brains and draw out just about anything she wanted. Amazing news for her love of chatter and tales, even better for her pack. She often used her power for good, and used it to draw out what’s been stressing people. Even if they don’t want help, no one will ever deny how amazing it always feels to get their burdens out in the open.

    Copia never liked to talk about his problems, preferring rather to be there for his flock and care for them like any good Clergy leader should. But, as Cirrus often reminded him, the Ghouls can take care of themselves, so Copia doesn’t need to have that front with them. And so, with his wine in hand, Cirrus picked his brains, worded her questions very carefully and got Copia to admit to things that he didn’t even know where weighing on him.

    “And now you can thank me.” Cirrus said as Copia finished pouring out his heart, and Aurora poured more wine into his glass.

    “Ay, grazie mille, Cir.” Copia said, leaning into the arm that Cirrus had around him, her kind eyes, blue like frosty mornings, lighting up at being bale to help.

    With Copia feeling thoroughly destressed and spoiled by his girls, they all piled onto the nest and snuggled, just catching up and laughing as they drank their respective wines.

    “What are we watching tonight?” Cumulus said after a while.

    “Love Actually?” Aurora suggested.

    “We watched that last time.” Cirrus laughed.

    “It’s Christmas, Cirrus, have some festive cheer!” Sunshine defended her fellow Multi.

    “Fine, what about The Holiday then?” Cirrus said.

    “Oooo, yeah, we haven’t watched that yet this year!” Cumulus said as she sprang up to get the remote for the TV.

    The last part to their girl’s night traditions was always watching a romcom – the cheesier the better, usually. Copia didn’t know how they hadn’t watched every single one yet but his girls were always resourceful, and seemed to have an entire inventory of them to look through. Of course, they rewatched some from time-to-time, but Copia never paid too much attention to the films, as he always preferred to focus on his Ghoulettes. Especially in their nights together since he became Frater.

    He doesn’t get to see his Ghouls nearly as much as he’d like to now, and so soaks up each and every moment he can with them. Okay, maybe it turns into an orgy where Copia still gets spoiled and basted with attention the whole time, but he still values that time too. Tonight was nothing of the sort though, and Copia fell asleep surrounded by his girls, his body feeling lighter and younger, his belly full of wine and snacks.

    Most importantly, he fell asleep with his heart positively brimming with love for his oh-so-cherished Ghoulettes.

One shot master post can be found here!

[marinettesaltprompts]

Bad Plan, Bad Results

Prompt by @ironicreality

The first time Marinette ever made a plan with her Lucky Charm, it was *incredibly risky*- something that would only happen again and again as time went on.

But it worked out, so everything was fine.

What if things *didn’t* though?

This time in Origins, when Ladybug gets her first Lucky Charm and *unilaterally throws Chat into Stoneheart’s superstrong grip*…

Stoneheart just crushes her partner instantly.

Because Ladybug had *no way* of knowing how strong Stoneheart was or how durable their suits made them- she just made an assumption on the spot and gambled with Chat Noir’s life. A gamble that she, and the boy she met five minutes ago just lost.

This panics her, and forces her to adapt her plan to something else. ‘Luckily’ for everyone, Chat was crushed from head to toe, meaning that the crushed slurry of his body is not only unrecognizable, but the Miraculous of the Black Cat was shattered as well- meaning Hawkmoth can’t just claim it there and then.

Marinette *does* eventually manage to get Stoneheart deakumatised- and thankfully in this timeline remembers to cast the Mircle Cure the first time around: bringing Chat Noir back to life and in his tranformed form.

However all of Paris saw her essentially kill her partner on an impulsive gamble, and Adrien? Well, whatever childhood trauma made him just accept being thrown into lethal danger and accept it again as a good idea doesn’t activate here- because unlike in canon, this time Ladybug’s crazy plan didn’t work. So he just suffered a horrible death for nothing, and as a result their partnership doesn’t have him idol-worshiping her as some kind of tactical genius.

And since there was never a moment where Hawkmoth confronted Paris through that swarm of butterflies: she never won the city’s support by defying him so effectively.

Instead, Ladybug is seen with far more skepticism and as a ruthless 'hero’ by the Public. Meanwhile Chat Noir lacks any blind trust in his partner, and is far, far more independently minded.