#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.)

[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. 

[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

How to cure a grump masterlist

“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…”

How to cure a grump (2)

[neoduelverse]

One thing I find interesting about Pantheon season 2 is the difference between Holstrom and Caspian. Now there are a lot of differences between them, but I’m talking about the the big one. The one that made it so that Caspian could cure the flaw, but Holstrom couldn’t. I’m talking about how each of them feel love. 

Now, throughout the entire second season it’s all, but explicitly stated that Holstrom couldn’t understand love and that’s why he could’ve never fixed the flaw.

It’s a good way to highlight how the two genetically identical men differ, why one is our secondary protagonist while the other is the main antagonist. It also shows the audience Caspians understanding of love though his growing relationship with Maddie throughout the season.

But some viewers may be confused by this difference. After all doesn’t Holstrom have a love interest in Renee?

In fact don’t they spent a large amount of time collaborating on Holstrom’s plan, with her essentially being his arm in the physical world? Does their love not count just because they’re evil?

Well no. At least that’s not the reason their “love” doesn’t count. But to explain why we need to talk about how the show conceives of love.

In Pantheon love isn’t just about people liking each a lot. Not even to the point of where they’re willing to do a lot for their partners. Love is when people push each other along with supporting them.

Real love, to Pantheon, is challenging each other to be better and making each other better. It’s give each other perspective that they couldn’t have on their own. Love is something active between the people sharing it, it can’t be mindless adoration.

We see this healthier love with several of the couples throughout the show. David and Ellen start with several fundamental disagreements over the UI situation, to the point where it drives them apart at first. But when they reconcile you can tell how much they love each other even if they never officially get back together. Then you have Olivia and Farhad, who the show spends an entire episode displaying how they challenge and complete each other.

And of course, we have Maddie and Caspian.

You could make a whole separate post about how their viewpoints change and clash throughout the series while strengthening their relationship. But suffice it to say that the show views their love as the truest it could be.

And taking all this into consideration it should be obvious by now why the show considers Stephen and Renee’s relationship not to be an example of love. Renee doesn’t contribute intellectually to any part of it, she is ok simply fauning over the eccentric genius. While Stephen is content with basically being a relationship with a yes woman who goes along with everything he says and does.

And the most insidious part of their relationship in my opinion also relates to why Renne was chosen to play the part of Caspian’s mother.

We see in the interviews with Holstrom about his past that he never really cared intellectually about anything his mother said. He saw her as someone to care for, and thus receive care in return. Some may call this unconditional love, but Pantheon considers it an unhealthy love.

And as you probably noticed, the way Holstrom described his relationship with his mother sounded awfully similar to his relationship with a certain someone.

Which makes their already messed up dynamic even creepier. Especially when you consider how they wanted to shape Caspian.

TLDR: Holstrom couldn’t cure the flaw not because he couldn’t convince of love, but because his very conception of love was itself flawed.

[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

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[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)

[akiranzee]

Hi! Is there any chance you’d write a Muzan x wife!reader? The demon slayer corp found out about her and kidnap her to lure Muzan out. You can choose how the rest goes, whatever you want! Thank you so much if you do write it 😊

❦ • ° ` — \\ “DOING IT ALL FOR LOVE”

╰┈➤ PAIRINGS: muzan x y/n ╰┈➤ W/C: 2.3k+ ╰┈➤ CONTAINS: gore, blood, swearing, violence, death, killing, kidnapping, & muzan is 1,000 while reader is 25. ╰┈➤ A/N: this is prolly the gori-est i can last😭😭😭.

-------------Loading…------------

------------Complete!------------

it was not long ago that you and muzan got married, following your human customs.

specifically, it was merely two weeks. and yet, word had already gotten out, despite the marriage held in the infinity castle.

soon, it reached the prying ears of the hashiras. and then, they came up with a “brilliant” plan.

“but.. isn’t this kind of evil..? i mean — we’re doing things just as demons do!” mitsuri exclaimed, in a desperate tone, begging everyone around her to get their minds on the right track.

“there’s no choice, kanroji.. i have to agree with shinazugawa-sama over here.” shinobu agreed with what the white-haired man stated just a mere while ago.

“but it’s too-!!”

“shut up, kanroji.” sanemi immediately cut her off. “i don’t fucking care if you all act like saints, if himejima or oyakata-sama disagrees.. i’m going to make sure that fucking demon suffers the same as us. hell, his wife won’t even be able to make up for all our losses.” through clenched teeth and fist, sanemi growled.

“we’ll just go through the first plan. leave his wife alone, and just use her to kill him. that’s better.” tengen, not in his usual cheery state, had a voice of solemn, a seriousness not everyone was used to seeing.

“you all... rengoku-sama won’t like this! his wife is innocent! why can’t we just—” misturi continued, and sanemi ended.

“fuck it! why are you even here!? you think we’d live longer if we won’t act!? you wanna lose everyone ‘round here like how you lost rengoku!?” sanemi lost it. he was by far gone insane, and everyone had witnessed it. but it was an insanity that was necessary in this world.

“hey.” obanai inserted himself. “me and kanroji will stay out of this.” he said, leaving the room with mitsuri willingly following.

“are you sure we would be able to execute the plan, shinazugawa-san? just the three of us?” shinobu asked, worry and concern was not apparent in her voice, even if that was a question of one.

“we’ll tough it out. those two are acting like pussies.” sanemi bitterly spat. everyone looked at each other in silence, all of them understood the weight and risk of what they were about to do.

silence. that was the best cure.

minutes passed, and two people entered the room once again. it was mitsuri and obanai.

“i’m sorry... obanai-san helped me understand... but can we all agree with one thing?” everyone looked at mitsuri with curiosity.

“that... we don’t.. hurt his wife, no matter what?” mitsuri hesitantly said, fearing that everyone would look at her in mockery.

everyone didn’t, only sanemi did. “hah! his wife may be human, but even considering marrying a demon just makes her all the more a traitor!” sanemi violently lashed back, just wondering what goes on in your mind, that made you marry a cruel being, even more the demon king.

“b-but what if she doesn’t know...!” mitsuri’s tone was soft, despite the desperation and need to lure her comrades out of the evil mindset.

“doesn’t know!? are you kidding me!? they literally married in the infinity castle!” sanemi’s veins started popping out of his forehead, causing obanai to move a step closer in between them.

“oh.. right..” mitsuri bit her bottom lip in humiliation, wanting the earth to simply swallow her whole.

“but.. what if she was just brainwashed?” mitsuri spoke again, this time, with sureness in her voice.

“...that could be a possibility.” shinobu agreed with her, then glanced at sanemi who seemed to think the same as her.

“...whatever it is, we’ll get to ask her.” it was a conclusion, for sanemi, and everyone.

“but.. even if she tries to fight back, can we still not hurt her...?” it would not take a fool to hear the desperation in mitsuri’s voice, all she perhaps ever wanted was her friends to get back on their right minds. to her, this was not so far as what demons do.

“look, can you just plant it in that pretty little head of yours that no matter what — kindness will do you no fucking good? you’d be a fool to believe she’s a saint to start with. she married a murderer. a monster. what else is there to pity on her? go on, show kindness and i’ll watch you get taken advantage of.” sanemi sauntered menacingly towards mitsuri, “don‘t come crying if your head gets cut off or whatever.” he says at last, before leaving the room.

obanai glanced at mitsuri and gently patted her back, he wanted to be angry at sanemi, but he knew where he came from. after all, to trust in this world means you are willing to be fooled.

~~~~~

“that’s... her?” tengen asked, bewildered would be the right word, mixed along with shocked.

“she looks... normal.” and by normal, obanai means average. they looked you up and down once more, everything about you just seemed so plain that even tengen wasn’t that interested.

“normal or not, she’s something that not your average girls can compare to.” sanemi said, in a sinister tone.

“so? do we carry it out now?” obanai suggested impatiently.

“no, not... yet.” sanemi stood up and sauntered towards the busy street, eyeing you from afar.

“let’s see if that demon comes.” sanemi crossed his arms in patience, his fellow hashiras tagging along in hiding while you walked.

and, for who knows how many minutes had passed, sanemi concluded that it was time to conduct it.

“uh... hello, may i ask where the famous dango store is? i heard it’s really good!” mitsuri walked towards you, asking in a friendly smile.

“oh... it is right around the corner, near the public bathroom.” you pointed towards wherever you knew it was, but mitsuri insisted,

“oh, um.. can you please come with me? i’m really afraid to go alone... i’ve heard lots of creepy stories there.” feigning with fear, the other hashiras would commend her for an act well done.

and sure enough, that act was enough to convince you. “oh, from woman to woman, i also don’t feel safe around there. come.” you started to walk towards the location, looking back once in a while to see if mitsuri was still following you.

as you arrived, it became a secluded spot. the once lively red light district, grew unusually quiet in a certain corner you are in.

“oh, hmm.. the dango seller isn’t here... where could he be?” you mused, looking behind his stall to check, but sure enough, no one was around.

“ahh.. it’s really a shame, also the fact that they have to sell dango in this secluded area..” mitsuri feigned disappointment, all the while you looked at her with genuineness.

“shall we return?” you asked. perhaps this woman amused you.

“yes, please!” but as soon as she did, the light went out of you.

~~~~~

“well, that wasn’t so hard!” tengen whistled successfully, his hands behind his head.

“i would have thought it would need us to exert force.” shinobu said with nonchalance, her empty gaze never fazing.

“see? this is where kindness gets you.” sanemi sauntered towards your unconscious self, his sentence referring to mitsuri, who was now drowning in guilt.

soon enough, when you showed no signs of waking up, all the other hashiras left, leaving sanemi and shinobu, the ones who are so desperate for revenge.

~~~~~

a cough has been knocked out of you, followed then by a series of them.

“finally awake.” sanemi stood up, and sauntered towards you, stopping only when you were inches away.

he knelt down to your poor height, “say.. how can we enter the infinity castle?” the sudden question caught you off guard.

“look.. i don’t know how you demon slayers found out, but i will warn you. once he finds all of us, it will be the end.” you warned, but to them, it sounded like a threat.

sanemi merely chuckled, with a crazed laughter. “oh? and by the time he finds us, you’ve already faded to oblivion!” you winced at the loud voice, booming in your eardrum.

“shinazugawa-san.. perhaps it would be best if you took a fresh air. i have always suspected once your veins appear, you are about to lose control.” shinobu said calmly again, perhaps something about that voice makes him irk, but still, he obeyed.

after sanemi had left the room that’s seemingly a tent, it was now shinobu’s turn to kneel down to your crouching height.

“such pure innocence.. yet you choose to be tainted by impurity. why?” she held your chin gently, as if to gaze on your face, and stare in your eyes.

“he is a demon, yes. but he is not a monster.” you gritted your teeth.

“but do you know all of his deeds?” shinobu tilted her head to the right.

“yes,” you bit your lip, “but he also has kindness within. however would i have loved him if he was full of evil?”

shinobu was confused, but as usual, it wouldn’t be visible in her face. “then where is it? the so-called kindness?”

“he wouldn’t be called a demon if he showed them.”

“then how can you say so?”

“because i have no bruises, no wounds, no nothing.”

“...not yet.”

“there is no yet. for he has already laid his finger on me, but it would not be filled with violence, but instead of warmth and gentleness.”

“that is kindness?”

“no, that is affection. his kindness lies from deep within. he has the power to wipe down the earth, but he did not, and will not, because he only wishes for one thing. and if he has his hands on that one thing, then he will be at peace, and every deed will end.”

shinobu paused for a moment, but continued, “for every affection and kindness he had shown you, every single person dies. do you not feel pity?”

but, you merely chuckled. “you ask that of a killer’s wife.”

shinobu squinted her eyes and sighed, “such pride you put in that shameful title. i am losing patience.”

“let me go, and he will not harm anyone here.”

shinobu’s gaze darkened, “there is no one here. it is merely you and I, and that man from before. why would you have thought we would have brought a ticking danger in our homes?”

“that is a good point. but will you let me go?”

“no. we will wait for your dear husband to come. after all, you are the bait.” shinobu then, left, whooshing the curtain of the tent with a cold breeze.

and as all three of you waited, along with the other hashiras that had arrived, night finally fell, and still, no signs of muzan.

but, as soon as midnight did fall, horror started to arise. in a swift motion, tengen, who had been guarding a few meters away, was knocked out.

next, then, came for mitsuri who did not miss to scream and alert everyone, then, next was obanai, who, in turn took a hit for mitsuri, and the wind was knocked out of him.

perhaps it was not only madness and fear, but the shrill horror and terror that muzan brought was overwhelming.

he sauntered towards the very tent you were in, not missing the chance to bash sanemi’s head on a nearby tree, and grip shinobu’s neck in the air.

but, instead of fear, you felt safe as soon as you saw him enter the tent, with shinobu in tow.

but, of course, you did not feel too happy that he would be willing to commit a massacre for you.

“...muzan, let her go and untie me, please?” you pleaded in a soft voice, one that would always lull muzan.

but, he gritted his teeth and gripped shinobu’s neck much tighter. “and why should i? when they have caused you pain!?” he was angry now.

he threw shinobu to the side, and was about to untie you, until sanemi and mitsuri were quick to their feet and slashed muzan.

but, unfortunately, it was merely his back and he had easily healed in less than a second. his crimson eyes glowed in the dark. it was as if a ravenous beast was starving, and is willing to tear and eat every single thing it sees.

his long nails lunged towards mitsuri, but sanemi sliced his wrist, in which — quickly regenerated and still reached for mitsuri’s throat, but also which she luckily dodged.

then, another series of slash and slices, in which he finally used 30% of his strength, slicing sanemi’s body diagonally, that blood rushed out from him, leaving him in the ground, in pain.

mitsuri watched in horror, her fellow hashira dying all because of hunger, and this too — was the cause of her death, her inability to act and think led to her own demise, and was slashed savagely by the throat, in which he so grotesquely ravaged.

but, just when muzan thought it had been over, sanemi lunged in action again. with... a few modifications of his body.

something — something. ignited in muzan, as if seeing someone so determined, despite the low chances — it just fuels his cruel desire to break that determined soul.

seeing sanemi — the scarred white-haired man that he slashed almost in half, now with steel bars in between his body, perhaps to keep it from splitting, his skin covering the gruesome bloodshed of his own, each end of the four steel bars plunged into his skin to keep it from opening. you almost felt like puking, had you looked longer.

seeing mitsuri, a death of a hashira did not waver sanemi though, even if deep inside, he truly cared. he lunged again at muzan, only for muzan to move twice faster than him, and slashed half his face only — in which that because sanemi managed to dodge in a mere second.

had he dodged in two seconds, it would be the end. you yelled, “muzan!! don’t hurt them, please? they didn’t hurt me!!” this was the first time muzan ever killed someone in front of you, also in a brutal way you’d never think was possible.

“they were about to!!” sanemi took your small banter with muzan as an advantage, and kept lunging, along with shinobu that finally stood with a broken right leg, and continuously attacked.

but, even so that muzan was outnumbered, he still managed to lunge both of them towards the darkness of the forest, and disappeared in the night.

he finally sauntered towards you, concern glimmered in your eyes as sweat dripped from your forehead to your chin, as you panted in the cold air.

he expected fear was instilled in your eyes, but no — it was merely the same eyes that had ever looked at him since the day you first met.

your eyes never showed anger, hatred, and especially, fear.

he caressed your cheek with his now calloused hand, in which you so lovingly nuzzled against, as he untied you.

“...let us return home, my dear.” he said with pure gentleness, one that no one had ever heard of. he softly placed a kiss on your forehead as he helped you stand, and walked towards the darkness of the forest.

perhaps, kindness is what saved desperate people in madness.

★ • ° ` — BONUS:

“but — muzan-” for the thirty-third time, you were cut off again.

“no buts. i am going if you are going. i am not letting you leave alone ever again, not after what happened a few weeks ago.” muzan simply crossed his arms stubbornly.

“but... i am fine, i swear. not only have i healed, but i have also put my guard up now!! really, really high.” you tried to convince him, but again, to no avail.

“you are too kind to put your guard up high. i just know the same thing would happen again, if they used different tactics. and that is why i am going with you.” you simply sighed as he started walking, leaving you standing there until you finally followed along.

your hands reached and intertwined with his, as he tightly gripped your hand, with of course, such care before continuing, “from now on, i will not lose sight of you. and no, that is not a request.”

firmly, you finally sighed in defeat and nodded.

perhaps, unkind and kind people could be together.

───────────── ☆ ─────────────

© akiranzee || do not steal, plagiarize, or repost my works without my permission.

[cameronsbabydoll]

Scc! Rafe ever notice how depressed and lonely his wife is? Does he ever think how she is still a young woman who didn’t get enjoy her life bc he trapped her? She doesn’t have any friends, anywhere to go, nobody she can talk to etc does he ever try to do anything to make her happy and not feel so lonely? If he truly loves her, he wouldn’t want to her to regret marrying him, right?

yes — rafe notices.

he’s not oblivious to how sad and isolated his wife is.

he sees it in the way she moves around the house — quieter, smaller, less like the bright, soft girl he first locked down.

he notices how she hesitates when he asks for a kiss. how she never picks up the phone anymore because there’s no one to call. how she looks out the window too long, like she’s somewhere else in her head.

and it bothers him. deeply.

but he doesn't respond to it in a healthy or self-aware way.

instead of thinking:

"i hurt her. i took away too much. i need to let her breathe."

his brain twists it into:

"she’s unhappy because she doesn’t understand how good she has it."

"she's lonely because other people would hurt her, not like me."

"she just needs me to love her harder, keep her closer."

so even though he truly loves her, it’s a selfish, possessive kind of love — not a freeing love.

he doesn’t want her to regret being with him, no — but instead of fixing the real problem (her isolation), he tries to paper over it by spoiling her:

buying her expensive things

insisting they have more babies to "fill the house"

pulling her closer when she looks sad, like he is the cure

he doesn’t understand that he is the problem.

to answer the heart of your question:

does rafe ever try to make her happy?

yes — but only in ways that keep her tied to him.

he might plan a date night.

he might randomly take her on a trip — somewhere remote, somewhere only with him.

he might bring home a new car, or jewelry, or fancy clothes.

he might kiss her forehead and murmur:

"i'm gonna take care of you forever, baby. you don’t need anybody but me."

but he never really gives her back the things he stole — her freedom, her friendships, her right to a real life.

because if he gave her real freedom?

he's terrified she might realize she’s better off without him.

in short:

yes, he notices she’s lonely and sad.

yes, he cares — in his way.

no, he doesn't truly fix it — he tries to own her happiness, not heal her loneliness.

deep down, he’s scared that if she ever got a real taste of freedom again, she’d leave.

[colourobserver]

A lot of people are not going to like me for saying this but…it needs to be said. And no one is even going to read this but…vent time!

For starters,

MOVIE TERESA AND BOOK TERESA ARE VERY, VERY DIFFERENT.

I know that people realise that movie Teresa only got her memories later on and made her decision on whether the gladers should be given up for a cure. Yet people seem to miss the fact that this DOESN’T happen in the books. So let’s talk about some things book Teresa has done.

Just so it’s clear, I UNDERSTAND why people don’t hate Teresa. I understand people not thinking she is evil, OKAY? I get that. Bc when I too look at the situation of The Maze Runner from an outside perspective without emotional attachments to the characters I can understand the importance of doing what they could to find a cure. The good of the many and all that jazz.

Now something that people SOMEHOW seem to forget is that book Teresa DIDN’T just do things for ‘the good of the many’ and even when she did she was super heartless about it. She cared for Thomas a whole lot more than anyone else so I don’t believe it’s a matter of her wanting to save everyone too.

1. In the books Teresa knew basically EVERYTHING—even if she didn’t she knew enough—that was going to happen to the boys. At times one word could have saved lots of lives and Wicked still would have got their variables or whatever. For instance she knew Chuck was going to be controlled by Wicked to jump in front of Thomas when Gally shoots him. The same way they were forcing Gally. She also knew other stuff that was happening in the trials for like how she could have at least said something about IDK MAYBE THE BIG MOLTEN METAL BALLS THAT LITERALLY BURNT THOSE KIDS ALIVE.

2. In the end when she planned on saving Thomas and no one else. UMM SO WE JUST FORGOT THAT THAT HAPPENED? It is crazy to me how people portray Teresa as super caring of everyone and stuff bc if YOU were in the maze she would not give two shits if you lived or died. As well as how everyone but Thomas were ‘subjects’ to her.

3. Teresa’s whole ‘I love you Thomas. We’re in this together’ and not only lying to him about the fact he was going to have his memory swiped and not her but manipulating him into comforting her in that bit in fever code that she says “tell me that we’ll survive this. Tell me that we will save our friends together”—something like that anyways. She KNEW the maze was gonna kill most of the kids yet she made Thomas say that right before she let Paige drug him and wipe his memories etc.

4. Teresa’s whole ‘if I didn’t go with Wicked’s plan they would have killed you Thomas” really says a lot about her care for literally anyone that ISN’T Thomas.

5. Teresa’ reaction to Minho calling her a traitor in the scorch when she shrugged and said “I’m sick of apologising. I did what I had to to” like that is SO insensitive to EVERYTHING Minho went through! Have you no empathy???

6. Before that when she whacked Thomas on the head with a gas chamber and spear much more than even necessary has me with mixed feelings about how much she truly loves Thomas or whether she was just attached to him. Maybe it was more of a possession thing? We always talk about male love interests being possessive but not the girl…but that's a whole other thing.

7. Teresa having the AUDACITY to telepathically tell Thomas when he was kidnapped and put into a white room for like ever that “wicked is good” ehh, ever heard of time and place?

I also hate the whole “you just don’t get her like I do” like yes, if you are talking about the fact she wanted to save everyone and not just a select few then YES in fact any one with a bloody moral compass can see that. You are allowed to feel that way, ofc you are. But no, you aren’t understanding her on a deeper level you are understanding something that everyone should be able to understand.

And then movie Teresa…I don’t rlly care if you love her or not. Mostly because she actually showed guilt when torturing Minho. I personally don’t like her either but I don’t hate her.

(Also, I think that if movie Teresa wasn’t so conventionally attractive she wouldn’t be nearly as liked. I’ve literally had someone tell me that she’s their favourite character because she’s so ‘hot’)

Yall im in a war zone saying this but oh well.

[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

[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.

[just-dreaming-marvel]

Love That Burns ~ Ending 2 ~ 71 ~ Version 1

LOVE THAT BURNS MASTERLIST

< previous chapter

Word Count: 3,035ish

Summary: You take the cure and deal with the consequences.

Notes: Please send in reactions! Can't believe we're here already. I'm literally crying. HELP PLAN MY NEW LOGAN SERIES HERE.

Reminder: I DO NOT do taglists. Please don’t ask. Please follow and interact! I appreciate any reblogs, likes, comments, and asks!

“Are you sure?” Wade asked.

“Yes,” you nodded. “I’ll try for all of you.”

“Then there’s something you need to know.”

“What do you mean?” Laura wondered.

“When you take the cure, it has to be activated.”

“What do you mean it has to be activated?” Logan asked.

“My phoenix ability…” You whispered. “I have to die.”

“What? No! Absolutely not!”

“It’s the only way,” Wade tried to explain.

“So what happens when she dies and doesn’t come back?”

“Then we know that the cure didn’t work,” you say. “No matter what, there’s a chance of it not working.” You looked to Laura. “Do you still want me to try?”

She nodded. “You either die trying or we watch you die a long agonizing death,” she said. 

“Then I die trying.”

“I can help you,” Wade offered. “I can make it painless and—“

“I will do it,” Logan interrupted. There was no room for argument in the way he spoke and the look on his face. “It’s something I have to do.” 

You knew what Logan was thinking, that no one else should bear that weight but him. “Okay,” you whispered. It was no use trying to argue. “Then… I guess it’s time to say goodbye.”

~~~

Per your request, Logan moved you back to your bed. There was no way that you were dying in a blown up pool in your living room. You requested to speak to each of them separately, beginning with Wade.

“I knew I was your favorite,” Wade teased as he came in and shut the door. He waltzed over at sat on the edge of the bed beside you. “That’s why you wanted to talk to me first, huh?”

“Wade,” you smiled. “I really didn’t know I needed you in my life.”

“Everyone needs one of me, Buttercup, especially you.”

You chuckled. “Ain’t that the truth… You need to rekindle things with Vanessa.”

“Buttercup—“

“No. I know that you’ve been busy taking care of me but, no matter what happens, you knew to try with Vanessa. You saved the universe for her. And you both deserve happiness.” You grabbed his hand. “Do that, for me?”

He lifted your hand and pressed a kiss to the back of it. “I’d do anything for my favorite superhero.”

“I know… thank you. Thank for fighting for the universe and finding Logan. Thank you for fighting for me and Laura. Thank you for finding this cure… I’m sorry if he doesn’t work.”

“Hey, it’s not your fault if it doesn’t work. And let’s not talk like that. What if it does work? There’s so much that I want to see from your powers! Once you’re back to your best self, we’re all going to get out of here. Somewhere that you can show off your powers to me and of course, Peanut out there.”

“Deal.”

The room grew quiet, almost choking the two of you.

“I’ll take care of Logan and Laura,” Wade quietly promised.

“Thank you,” you teared up. “And take care of yourself too.”

“I’ll try.” He leaned forward and held a kiss to your head. “You’ll always be my favorite hero, Buttercup… Always.”

You gave his hand a squeeze as he stood up and walked out of the room. You looked up at the ceiling, trying to control the tears. But before you knew it, you were thrown into a coughing fit, choking on ash. Laura rushed in, coming to sit beside you and help you through the cough. Once the cough has died down, you and Laura are holding onto each other, quickly becoming sobbing messes.

“I need you to know how grateful I am that you came into our lives,” you finally said through the tears. “You have been one of the greatest things that has ever happened to my life.”

“Thank you for taking me in,” Laura responded, still crying as well. “Thank you for being the best mom.”

“I need you to listen to me, Laura. I need you to always remember how amazing you are. You have become better than they made you to be and I need you to continue on that path. Okay?”

Laura nodded. “Okay, mom.”

“You finish up school. You find someone to love and who loves you even more. Live a full life, no matter how long you live.”

“It’s going to be hard without you.”

“I know, kiddo, but I also know that you can do it.” You took a deep, strained breath as you pulled the dog tags and ring from around your neck. “These are yours now. Do what you wish with them.” With a trembling hand, Laura took them and held them close to her chest. “I love you so much, Laura.”

“I love you, too, mom.” She leaned forward and wrapped you up in a hug.

You held a kiss to the side of her head. “If this doesn’t work, please don’t mourn too long. Keep going. Keep living.”

“I’ll try.”

“I know you will.” You pulled away and cupped her cheek. “I am so proud of you, kiddo, and will always be.”

~~~

After Laura left, Logan hovered in the doorway. You were laying back on the pile of pillows, eyes closed as you tried to calm your raspy breathing. You were fading fast. Logan could see it and you could feel it. Whether or not you took the cure, there was most likely no tomorrow for you. But the cure was the last hope and Logan couldn’t give up on the happiness he had found with you. He stepped in and shut the door behind him. Your eyes opened and you pressed out a smile for him.

“Lo,” you held out your hand to him. He reached out and took it, taking the needed steps to stand beside you. “Sit, please.” Logan shook his head. “I need you to hold me.”

“I can’t,” his voice broke.

“You don’t have to do this. Wade can help me–”

“No. It has to be me.”

“But it doesn’t… I know that you won’t be able to forgive yourself if this doesn’t work.”

“I can’t bear the thought of anyone else having your death weigh them down or you going through it alone… I love you too much.”

“And I love you too much to have you do this alone.”

“I’m not alone… I have you, baby.”

“Please, hold me, Lo.”

Logan couldn’t resist anymore. He got onto the bed and carefully scooped you up. He pressed a kiss to your temple.

“I need to thank you,” you whispered, unable to stop the emotions and tears.

“For what, doll?”

“For taking care of me and Laura. For making me happier than I have been in years… For mending parts of me that I thought would never heal… I am forever grateful for you.”

“I wish I could have done more… I wish that I could truly take this all away from you.”

“You have done everything you could and more… Kiss me.”

The kiss is urgent, sloppy, and wet, due to the tears streaming down both of your faces. The two of you kept murmuring ‘I love you’ as you kissed, wanting the other to never forget. When you finally break, you stay close, with your foreheads touching and noses brushing.

“You changed my life, baby,” Logan whispered, voice cracking as tears continued to stream down his face. “I never thought I could be happy again… not after everything that has happened and all that I’ve done.”

“You are a good man, Lo. Please don’t ever forget that.”

“I’ll try, darlin’... for you… I’ll make sure that Laura is taken care of. I won’t let her be alone.”

“You two need each other and you need Wade.” Logan chuckled. “I know he drives you crazy, but the three of you have to stick together. None of you should be alone.”

The two of you stay holding each other for a few moments, until the urge to cough becomes too much. Logan holds you as you turn to cough up more ash, your insides burning with pain. When it subsides, you lean back against Logan to catch your breath.

“I’m ready,” you whispered. “Are you?”

“I’m never ready to risk your life, baby… I need you.”

“I know.”

Logan dug the cure out from his pocket and opened it for you to take. You quickly take it like a shot, coughing as it burns on the way down. Logan gently turned you back to face him.

“I love you so much… Always,” he promised.

“I love you, Lo,” you told him.

Logan captured your lips into another kiss. You melted into him. Slowly, his trembling hand formed into a fist as it made its way up your back. His fist stopped at your heart and paused, feeling the frantic beat of it. His kiss grew more urgent as he silently prayed that he’d get to feel your beating heart again. Logan pulled you impossibly closer as he lined up his fist with your heart.

“I love you,” he muttered against your lips before his claws released into your heart.

You gasped before you completely went limp in his arms, not breathing. Logan cradled you close as he sobbed, his claws slowly retracting. 

“I’m sorry, baby,” he whispered. “I’m so sorry… Please, come back to me… Come back, baby.”

~~~

Days pass and you still haven’t turned to ash. Your body was still in your bedroom, decaying. No one dared to enter, but the smell has begun to creep out into the rest of the apartment. Laura has been curled up on her bed since Logan came out and told them you were dead. She couldn’t handle it. Logan has barely moved from the table, which was now covered in empty bottles of alcohol. Wade hadn’t sat down in days. He was moving between Laura and Logan, making sure that they were both still alive and breathing.

“We need to decide next steps,” Wade eventually brought up as he set a plate of food in front of Logan. 

Logan growled, clenching the empty beer bottle in his hand, cracking it. “No. She’s coming back.”

“Peanut, she would have been back by now. I’ve read her finals. She’s never decayed before turning to ash before.”

“This is different.”

“Yes, it is, Logan. She’s gone.”

Logan hated the fact that Wade used his name to prove a point. His head snapped in the direction of the hall as he heard shuffling. For a brief moment, Logan hoped but it was crushed when Laura appeared.

“We need to bury her,” she rasped. Logan’s eyes fell to the dog tags and ring that now belonged to her. “She’s not coming back.”

“We can’t give up on her like that!” Logan exclaimed.

“We aren’t giving up on her, Logan. We are respecting her.”

“It’s all my fault, Peanut,” Wade said. He hadn’t been able to stop moving because of the guilt that he was feeling. He brought back a faulty cure. You were now dead because of it. “I should have made sure the cure would work.”

“You’re not the one who killed her,” Logan murmured, eyes falling to the hand that did the deed. “My claws ripped through her heart.”

“Logan,” Laura came up and sat beside the man, “we all know that she wouldn’t have made it through the day anyway… you helped her.”

Logan scoffed. “Whatever.” He grabbed another bottle, tore it open, and took a swig. “Bury her then. I don’t care.”

“Where do you think we should bury her, Little Wolf?” Wade asked.

“Somewhere she loved,” she responded.

~~~

You had told all of them about your cabin in the Canadian Rockies and how you hadn’t been to it in years. Currently, your younger self and your husband still owned the property and Laura knew that neither of you would ever return to it. Laura decided to bury you at the edge of the cliff. Logan and Wade dug the hole and Logan carefully set you down in it before they covered you. Laura had made a similar marker to that of her father’s and placed it at your feet. Logan looked around at the view, the cliff overlooking the valley and the mountain range.

“This is pretty,” Logan muttered. “I can see why they stayed here… I wish that I could have provided something like this for her.” He moved to sit on the edge of the cliff, quickly following while Wade wandered into the cabin.

“Please don’t blame yourself, Logan,” Laura said.

“Who else is there to blame? There’s no one I can go get revenge on. No villain to fight off to protect us… My claws were what tore through her heart… It’s my fault.”

“Your claws are what healed her, Logan. She wasn’t the person in the stories I had heard without my dad and you were able to bring that back to her… to me… Your claws saved her from the pain and heartache that she would have continued to go through until her power completely destroyed her. They saved us from having to watch that.”

Logan nodded. “I’m… I’m going to need you to keep reminding me of that. So I won't give up on myself and walk away… This ain’t going to be easy for me.”

“Don’t worry, I won’t let you walk away.”

“Thanks, kid.” Logan let himself think wistfully for a moment. “Laura… do you believe in an afterlife?”

“I don’t know. I think, maybe now I do. I hope that I’ll see my mom again and… and my dad. What about you?”

“I don’t know with the whole multiverse. I don’t understand how it would work. Like is there an afterlife for each universe or one for the whole multiverse?”

“I don’t know if it matters. I think that maybe, no matter the universe, we’d reunite with our loved ones again.”

“I guess I need some of your faith, kid.” The two fell silent, staring out at the view. “I hope… I hope I see my family and friends again. All of them… And I hope that Y/N is reunited with her James.” 

Laura was taken back by the admission. “You mean that?”

“Every word. Y/N deserves to be with her husband. I was lucky with the time I had and I will always cherish it. I am grateful she loved me as much as she did; in the way she did. I will always miss her and, yes, it hurts that she can’t just be mine. But her James–your dad–got to her first and I will do my best to respect that… Maybe, if there is an after life, I’ll get another chance with my original Y/N.”

“Yeah, maybe… Too bad you’re stuck with me and Wade for now.” She playfully bumped her shoulder into him. 

He huffed out a smile and reached over, pulling her into his side. “Can’t believe I’m saying this, kid, but I wouldn’t want it any other way.” 

Another bout of silence fell between them.

“I miss her so much,” Laura whispered, tearing up.

“Me, too, kid,” Logan responded. “Me, too.”

“Hey! Are you two having an emotional moment without me?!” Wade exclaimed, clambering over. “I can’t believe you two! After all I continue to do for you, this is how–”

“Shut the fuck up, Wade,” Laura and Logan said at the same time.

“Just get over her, loudmouth,” Logan added, motioning for the man to come over.

Wade hurried over and plopped down at Logan’s side, nuzzling his face into Logan’s shoulder.

“Stop that,” Logan murmured.

“Oh, come on, Peanut,” Wade replied. “You know you love me.”

Logan scoffed. “Whatever.”

The three sat there on the edge of the cliff, watching the sunset, and holding onto the small moment of peace within their sea of grief. The three of them were a weird, makeshift family, but each of them knew that they had each other's backs. Always. And that no matter what the future held, they would fight it, together.

~~~

“Come on, princess.”

The voice was familiar but it wasn’t clear. Like you were underwater. Your whole body felt that way: floating and drowning at the same time.

“Open your eyes, sweetheart… You’re safe now.”

It took too much effort, but you eventually opened your eyes. The light surrounding you was blinding. Your hand came up to cover your eyes as they adjusted to the brightness. Once your hand fell down, you gasped.

“James?”

A grin spread across his face. He was much younger than the last time you had seen him. But you would recognize him in a line up of his multiverse counterparts any day. 

“Hey, honey,” your husband smiled.

“James.”

He chuckled. “Yeah, sweetheart, it’s me.” You launched yourself up and wrapped him into your arms. He laughed as he hugged you back and held a kiss to your cheek. 

“It’s been too long.”

“Tell me about it. You didn’t have to watch your wife fall in love with another version of you.”

You pulled back. “You– you saw that?”

“I saw everything, princess.” He cupped your cheeks. “You and Laura stayed strong and stayed together. I’m so proud of you both.”

“I hate that I had to leave her.”

“I know. But we’ll see her again and we can watch over her too. And, I’m sure Logan and Wade won’t leave her on her own.”

“They won’t… Are you mad?”

“Mad about what?”

“That I fell in love again.”

“Not one bit, sweetheart. You deserved to be loved and you have so much love to give. Logan took care of you and Laura when I couldn’t. I will forever owe him for that.”

“I love you, you know? No one could ever compare to you.”

“I love you too, princess.” 

James pulled you in for a long awaited kiss. You sunk into it, tugging him closer to feel him. You couldn’t believe that this was real. That you were back with your husband after all this time.

“I’m never letting go of you again,” he breathed against your lips.

“Good,” you replied. “Because I’m never letting you.”

~~~~

Notes: Thank you for reading and I hope you read the second version of this chapter. If you choose not to, thank you for going on this journey with me. This series was so much fun to write and it was all because of how it was interacted with. I couldn't have made this series what it is without you. Thank you so much and I hope you stick around to see what's to come.

[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!

[bright-side20]

A little Elriel scene 😁

Elain stood near the edge of the crowd, her gaze flicking toward the dais where the royal family sat. The King and Queen of Valahan, wearing their crystalline crowns, looked like cold statues on their high thrones. Beside them, the Crown Prince stood tall and proud, his piercing eyes sweeping over the room.

Azriel stood at her side, his wings slightly spread, the faint brush of them against her shoulders like a silent reassurance that everything would go as planned.

“To peace and prosperity, and to the Night Court’s alliance.”

A wave of polite applause followed, and the guests raised their glasses. A chill ran down Elain’s spine as a servant handed her a goblet.

Azriel hesitated beside her, his sharp gaze fixed on the drink. After a moment, he lifted his goblet and took a small sip, his face unreadable. Elain noticed his hand tighten slightly around the glass.

She raised her own goblet, but before it could touch her lips, Azriel’s hand shot out, gripping her wrist. “Don’t,” he said firmly, his voice low but urgent.

Elain blinked, her brow furrowing. “Is it…?”

“Not here,” Azriel cut her off, his tone leaving no room for argument. “We need to leave the room. Now.”

Her heart skipped a beat as her gaze darted toward the dais. The Crown Prince’s eyes were on her. “They’ll see us,” Elain whispered, her voice tight with worry.

Azriel followed her gaze, his grip on her wrist tightening. One of the nobles stepped forward, bowing deeply before the royal family and launching into a speech. Elain seized the moment, gently tugging at Azriel’s arm. Together, they slipped toward the nearest exit, moving through the crowd.

The moment they were free of the hall, Azriel stumbled. His shoulder brushed against the wall.

“Azriel,” Elain whispered, stepping closer to him. Her voice filled with concern. “What’s happening?”

“The drink,” he muttered. “There was something in it. I didn’t want you to…” He shook his head, trying to clear it, but his steps faltered again.

Elain quickly wrapped an arm around his waist, steadying him. “We need to get you somewhere safe. Come on,” she urged softly.

By the time they reached her chambers, his weight leaned heavily against her, and his usually graceful movements were clumsy. She managed to guide him to the bed, her heart racing as she helped him sit down, half-laying him back against the headboard.

“Azriel, talk to me,” she said, brushing strands of hair from his face. “What do you think it was? Could the royal family...”

“It doesn’t matter,” he interrupted, his hazel eyes fluttering open to meet hers. “You’re safe..”

She shook her head. “Of course it matters! If they’re targeting you...us...we need to know.”

Elain glanced toward the door. “I’m going to find a healer. You need help..."

“No,” he said sharply. “We can’t risk it. If the wrong person finds out I’m unwell... We’re already on fragile ground with this treaty.”

Her stomach churned. “Azriel, you’re hurt. They poisoned you.”

“And we can’t let them see it worked,” he said firmly. His head tipped back against the Headboard, his chest heaving.

Elain felt her pulse quicken, fear spreading through her. If only she knew exactly what was in that drink, maybe she could cure him with one of the remedies Madja had taught her.

“Do you have any idea what it could’ve been?” she asked

Azriel shook his head, unable to speak.

She sat next to him, her hand reaching to touch his face. His skin burned under her fingers, a faint sheen of sweat covering his brow. His breathing was uneven and ragged, and his eyes were hazy. Whatever poison or substance was in that drink was dragging him under, and she could feel how wrong it was. The fear of something happening to him clawed at her chest.

“We need to get you to Velaris,” she said. “Can you winnow us?”

Azriel shook his head again, his hand gripping the edge of the bed as though he was fighting to stay conscious. “I… I can’t. Not like this,” he rasped, his voice low. “I don’t trust myself to get us there safely.”

His head lolled against the headboard, and his hand fumbled at his side. Elain watched, frozen, as he pulled Truth-Teller from its sheath and held it out to her.

“Take it,” he rasped, his hand trembling. “If… If something happens, you’ll need it.”

Her lips parted in shock. “I’m not leaving you,” she said firmly. “Don’t even think about asking me to.”

Azriel let out a weak, frustrated growl, his hand dropping the blade onto the bed. “I just sipped a little… nothing will happen to me. I just need to rest. Elain, you...”

“No.” Her tone was firm, leaving no room for argument. “I’m staying.”

His shadows curled protectively around her, as if agreeing with her decision. She glanced toward the door. “Azriel,” she said softly, brushing his damp hair back. “I need your shadows to watch the door, to make sure no one is coming.”

The wisps of darkness immediately darted toward the edges of the room. Elain let out a relieved breath and turned her focus back to Azriel’s flushed face. His temperature was climbing...she could feel the heat radiating from him even from inches away.

She stood quickly, hurrying toward the bathroom, fighting the burning in her throat. If only Feyre or Rhys could contact her, but they were too far, and she knew their daemati powers couldn’t reach this far. She grabbed a clean towel, soaked it in cold water, and wrung it out.

When she returned, Azriel was slumped against the headboard, his chest rising and falling in shallow breaths.

“Azriel,” she said softly, placing the cool cloth on his forehead. He flinched at the touch but soon relaxed, a faint sigh slipping past his lips.

Her gaze shifted to his Illyrian leathers, dark and heavy against his overheating skin. She knew they had to come off. "Azriel," she said hesitantly, her cheeks warming. "I need to…" She gestured awkwardly toward his armor.

His eyes flickered open, and he gave a faint nod, too weak to speak. Her fingers trembled as she reached for the clasps on his chest. The intricate buckles and straps were tight, and she fumbled as she tried to undo them.

"The buttons… are at the back," he murmured, his voice low and rough.

She climbed onto the bed, helping him lean his weight on her. Her hands brushed over the smooth expanse of his back as she searched for the fastenings. Her fingers accidentally grazed the base of his wings, and he shuddered violently, his body jerking.

She froze, her hands going still. "I’m sorry," she whispered, her heart pounding. Cerridwen had once explained how Illyrian wings were extremely sensitive. But before she could pull away, his hand shot out, gripping her waist and pulling her closer. Her breath hitched as she found herself pressed against him.

"Don’t apologize. I should," he said hoarsely, his hazel eyes red and locked onto hers. Before she could respond, he leaned in and pressed a kiss to her neck. His lips were soft, almost burning, and she bit her lip to stop a sound from escaping.

"I… I tried," he murmured, his breath warm against her skin. "Tried to stay away. But you… you make it impossible."

Her lips parted as she whispered, "Azriel, you’re feverish. You’re not yourself."

He let out a low, humorless laugh. "No, Elain. For once, I think I am." His fingers brushed lightly against the underside of her breasts, making her shudder.

Undressing him now was probably a bad idea, but she didn’t have any other choice. She had to do something to bring his temperature down. She reached for his back again, unfastening the armor and gently slipping it off until his chest was bare. And gods, his muscles were sharp and defined. She wondered how many centuries of training it had taken for him to have a body like that. The tattoos covering his chest and shoulders made him look even more powerful. She couldn’t stop staring, and she hated how her fingers itched with the urge to touch him.

Elain swallowed hard, her fingers trembling as she reached for the cool cloth again. Before she could press it to his skin, his hands found her waist. In one swift motion, he rolled, and she gasped as she ended up beneath him, his head resting heavily on her chest. His fingers brushed against her thigh, his touch light but enough to make her shiver. The weight of him was overwhelming, his wings spread wide like a fallen angel.

She tried to move, but the moment she shifted, he let out a low sound of protest, a quiet growl that made her heart race.

“Azriel,” she said, her voice shaky.

His head moved slightly, nuzzling closer to her, his breath warm against her breasts.

“Yes, love?” he murmured, his voice rough and low.

Her breath caught, her chest tightening at the way he said it, as though it were the most natural thing in the world. She reminded herself that he was hallucinating, whatever he had drunk was playing with his mind.

"Please," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. She brought a hand to his hair, brushing it back gently. "You need to let me help you."

"But you are helping," he murmured, his lips brushing against the soft curve of her breasts, and she nearly whimpered. "I just need to feel you," he added, his hand slipping under her dress, dangerously close to the edge of her underwear.

"Don’t leave me," he continued. Slowly, he lifted his gaze to hers. His hazel eyes, usually so guarded, were wide and filled with something raw...fear, longing, hunger...it made her chest ache

“Elain…” he murmured. “You always disappear when I wake up. You’re always... a beautiful dream.”

She brought her hands to his face, cupping his jaw gently, her thumbs brushing over his high cheekbones. His skin was burning, a feverish warmth that made her worry deepen.

"I’m here, Azriel. I’m not going anywhere," she said as her fingers trailed along the sharp line of his jaw.

His eyes fluttered closed at her touch, a quiet sigh escaping him. She shifted slightly, moving her hand to his hair, threading her fingers through the soft, dark strands. Slowly, gently, she combed through his hair, her touch soothing him.

Her fingers continued their soft path, brushing over his hair, down to his jaw, and back again. She couldn’t stop herself from memorizing every detail...the sharp angles of his face, the curve of his lips... She couldn’t help but think how beautiful he was...the way everything about him seemed to draw her in.

He let out a soft hum, almost a contented sound, as his breathing evened out completely. His wings, which had been taut and tense, relaxed against the bed, draping around them.

She closed her eyes for a moment, letting herself imagine a life where this was real...a life where they were just a couple, safe and warm, in each other’s arms. But that wasn’t the truth. The truth was that poison was burning through Azriel’s body right now, and he might not even remember what he’d said to her. The truth was that she didn’t know how to help him, the royal family might have already noticed their absence, and she was supposed to give a speech by the end of the event. Everything could fall apart at any moment.

Tears blurred her vision, burning hot against her cheeks.

A hot liquid seeped onto her chest, and she had to clamp her hands over her mouth to stop herself from screaming when she saw blood trickling from Azriel’s nose and mouth.

Panic surged through her as she quickly moved from beneath him, turning him to face her. “Azriel,” she cried, her voice breaking as tears streamed down her face. “Stay with me, please.”

But he didn’t respond. His face was pale, his breathing shallow.

If anything happened to him, she swore she would destroy this kingdom. She would burn it to the ground.

A wave of power surged through her, making the Truth-Teller hum where it rested on the bed. She froze, her gaze snapping to the dagger. It buzzed with an energy that felt alive, calling to her as if it was trying to speak.

Her trembling fingers reached for the blade. The moment her hand closed around it, a strange sense of calm washed over her. She remembered how she had once commanded it to save her sister, and now, she closed her eyes, focusing on her power...the blade’s power.

“Undo what’s poisoning his blood,” she said, her voice firm despite her shaking hands.

A shadow flowed from the dagger, dark and cool, like smoke wrapping around her fingers. It glided over Azriel’s chest and sank into his skin, disappearing as quickly as it came. She held her breath, watching for any sign of change.

Azriel twitched, his brows furrowing, and his breathing hitched. His lips parted as a low groan escaped him, and she pressed a hand to his cheek. Relief flooded her when the heat began to fade from his skin, and the blood stopped.

His eyes blinked, hazy at first, but gradually they focused on her. For a moment, he said nothing, just looked at her as if trying to figure out if she was real. "Heaven" he murmured, his gaze shifting over her face as though she was an angel.

Before she could respond, an overwhelming urge to hold him swept through her, and she unconsciously leaned forward to hug him.

Azriel's hand gently rested on her back, and he whispered hoarsely, "You saved me."

But as the words left his lips, the shadows in the room stirred, shifting uneasily. They whispered urgently in his mind. He lifted his head, eyes narrowing as the shadows warned him.

"It's time," he said, his voice more forceful now. "You have to give your speech."

[flowery-mess]

in vino veritas

Pairing: frat boy Noah x female reader

reader has a name (Ella Thompson, but the story is written in 'your' POV)

Warnings: 18+ MDNI! / slight smut / drinking alcohol / let me know if anything else should be taged

Words: 2k

frat boy Noah masterlist

„So you can chose from this list of presentation topics or you can think of your own, but you need to discuss it with me in that case. Everything clear? Any questions?” your professor then ended the lesson and you turned to face Molly and Clara.

“How are we gonna do this? There’s three of us.” Clara said, pointing between the three of you. You were just assigned new team project, team meaning two people.

“Ella can be with Noah, they can work on their project after their sex sessions.” Molly said, teasing you with playful smirk.

“Molly, fuck off.” you said with nice smile, showing her your middle finger.

“That’s not a bad idea actually.” Clara nodded along as the two of them looked like they just found cure for deadly disease.

“He has his buddies in this class, he’s not interested in doing school project with me.”

“One, two, three, four aaand five! Perfect!” Molly scanned the area where Noah and his friends sat, pretty happy with the number of them.

“Just text him, or one of us will end up with Anna again.”

“And you don’t want that for any of us!”

Anna was your classmate, short girl with long hair. Clara was paired up with her for another project and she said she’s rather have a bath full of spider than work with Anna again. She didn’t give you details, only that her dorm smells like sweat and that she told Clara she doesn’t take shower more than twice a week to save the planet.

“You’re the worst friends ever.” you ironically said when you pulled your phone out of your bag to text Noah.

“Any chance your friends ditched you for the project like mine?” you hit send and then turned your body so you could see Noah reach for his phone.

He read your text and chuckled before answering you.

“No, but I could ditch them for you.”

Before you could write your response he sent another message.

“Unless you want Trevor to be your partner.”

You looked up to see Noah looking back at you, his face without any emotion so you didn’t know if that Trevor message was just a joke or if he was serious.

“I don’t want Trevor to be my partner.” you sent your reply and before you could see his reaction, you turned back around to face your friends who were patiently waiting for your answer.

“Okay I’ll do it with Noah, but next time one of you will make the sacrifice.”

-------------------

“Do you like any topic from the list?” Noah started the conversation when you two found a free table at the coffee shop in the campus.

“I haven’t read them all yet, do you like any of them?”

“I don’t really care about the topic, you can choose.”

“You sound like a perfect partner, let me see.” you opened the document with different topics and Noah sipped on his coffee. “Workplace diversity, Urbanization and its social impacts, Religion in moder communities, everything’s boring.”

You scrolled some more before something finally caught your eye. “This! Sociology of first impressions: expressions through appearance.” you pointed your finger in the middle of your screen where topic was written.

“Why this one?” Noah asked.

“Because I hate when people judge others based on their looks. I might get angry while doing this project.” you warned Noah, but that only got a chuckle out of him.

“Okay, sign us up for that one.” so you did write Noah Sebastian and Ella Thompson next to that topic so no one could steal it from you.

“Let’s make an outline and we can start on our own parts separately.”

You wrote down ideas and topics you wanted to talk about and when you finished your coffees you were pretty satisfied with the work you’ve done so far.

“How about we work on in at my place on Saturday?” Noah proposed when started packing your things.

“Oh, okay.” you said, surprised by his question. First, it meant that he planned on taking you back to his place on Friday and second, he wanted you to stay and not leave in the morning. But it was because of the project, you reminded yourself.

“Okay. Bye Ella.” he gave you quick salute and left the coffee shop.

-----------------

Sitting on Noah’s couch on Saturday with schoolwork in front of you felt weird. Unnatural.

“So the introduction is done, we can change it as we go on with the rest. I was thinking we could do interview for the practical part of the project?” you looked up from your notes only to find Noah sitting on the floor with his head on the couch and eyes closed. “Noah!” you groaned and threw your pencil at him.

“What? I want to sleep.”

“This was your idea.” you reminded him.

He opened one eye to give the annoyed look, but he knew you were right. He was also a good student and wanted the project to be good, but he was also tired from the party last night and then your bedroom fun that lasted until 3AM.

“Okay. What did you say about the practical part?” he rubbed the sleep out of his eyes and sat straight. Sleepy Noah kinda looked cute, but you were sure he was gonna change into angry Noah after you’re gonna propose your ides to him.

“I was thinking about an interview with someone extraordinary.”

“Like?”

“Like, well, you.”

His eyebrows shot up at your proposition “Me? You think I’m extraordinary?”

You couldn’t name the look in his eyes, but it almost looked like it made him sad and surprised at the same time.

“I mean yeah, look at you. You’re what this project is about. Don’t tell me no one ever judged you based on your tattoos.”

He was quiet, confirming what you just said out loud. It was true, he was familiar with the judgement from others based solely on the tattoos that were covering most of his body.

“I don’t think that’s allowed when I’m working on the project.” His answer was short and firm.

He knew that if he’d agreed you’d ask questions like why he got this and that tattoo, the meaning behind them or at what age he started with them. And he didn’t want you to know that, his covered body meant all the obstacles he had to overcome and he didn’t like talking about his past. But you didn’t know that, so before you could shut your mouth the question slipped out.

“Why do you have desolate on your stomach Noah?”

“Stop asking questions Ella, I told you no.”

“It can be anonymous, no one has to know it’s about you.”

“I said no.”

“It can be just few questions, like 5 to 10?” you just couldn’t help yourself and stop your mouth.

“Leave.”

“What?” you looked at Noah, confused by his sudden reaction.

“I don’t feel like working on the project anymore. We can have coffee on Monday and continue.”

He looked hurt, and suddenly you felt guilty.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have asked.”

But he didn’t answer, instead he started packing your things to show you he was serious about wanting you leave.

------------

You didn’t talk about his tattoos on Monday, you talked about the theoretical part of the project. Noah was giving you the cold shoulder, not talking more than he had to.

You couldn’t stop thinking about his reaction to your question about the desolate tattoo. You always wondered what his tattoos mean when you saw him naked, but you never asked. Or you just didn’t have a good excuse to do so.

-------------

The next Friday you were both more drunk that usual, blaming the beer pong competition for it. When you made it to Noah’s place and you started taking each other’s clothes off, your drunk mind couldn’t help itself.

You slid your hands down Noah’s naked chest and stopped at the desolate tattoo.

“What does it mean Noah?” you asked him in a whisper, your mouth on his.

“What?”

“Desolate. Why do you have it on your body?”

“Because I’m desolate.” he confessed, the lust from his eyes fading away.

“That’s not a nice thing to say about yourself.”

“It’s the truth tho.” he dipped his head in the crook of your neck and started kissing your sensitive skin.

And you pieced all the things you knew about Noah together. He was living alone, in this big ass apartment, he never mentioned visiting his family for the holidays or someone’s birthday. He doesn’t have any pictures of him and his family around the place and his mom never called him at 6 in the morning like yours did.

“What about your family?” he stopped his movements and you felt his muscles tense under your touch.

He pushed himself off of you and sat on his bed, his tatted back facing you. You heard him sigh and push his hair out of his face.

“Why do you care about my family?” he asked just above a whisper.

“I don’t know. You never talked about any family members, you live here alone and you just told me you are a desolate.”

“We said just sex, no feelings. I think that includes this too.”

“Well I’m too drunk so I probably won’t remember shit in the morning.” you lied. And you felt guilty about, but you wanted to get to know him better and the alcohol just gave you courage to continue.

The alcohol probably made him more emotional too, because he believed that you won’t remember what he said to you that night, but how could you.

“I don’t have any family. Parents left me with my grandparents when I was a kid. Haven’t seen my mom since then and I only see my father if he needs money from me. My grandparents died when I was 15 and since then it was just me. I was left with their house and money. I worked through high school so I could afford good college. Sold the house when I was 19 and bought this place. But I got no one Ella, I am desolate. Always have been.” his head was hanging low, his breath became uneven and he closed his eyes to picture his three year old self asking his grandmother when will mom come pick him up.

“Noah,” you didn’t know what to say to his story, you were feeling sorry for him, but you were sure that wasn’t something he wanted to hear. “You made something from yourself, your grandparents would be proud.”

When he didn’t answer you shifted on your knees and pressed yourself at his back.

Noah fell asleep in your arms that night and your view on him changed. He was the great example for your project, how the outside of someone doesn’t reflect his inside.

But in the morning you pretended like you didn’t remember anything he told you and couldn’t figure if he really did not remember sharing his secrets with you, or if he actually didn’t remember.

You finished the project and got almost full score from your professor.

Things between you and Noah stayed the same, neither of you going back to that night or hiss desolate tattoo.

But every time you got the chance, you made sure to kiss those letters on his body to silently tell him he’s not a desolate.

✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨

Tag list: @lacy1986 @chey-h

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This story is a work of fiction, with the plot and characters entirely made up. The appearance and name of the main male character are inspired by Noah Sebastian Davis, but the storyline bears no connection to the real person. Please do not steal or repost this work on other platforms without permission.

[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.