#The aftermath of a battle I had with a friend

[chaucer-blackwood]

Tally The Dead

Illurain leaned against the broken pillar at the cap of the Mon-keigh building. Their surviving leader was surrendering now. Fingfae would be insufferable after this. He and his warriors of the dead had carried the day, and the Spiritseer would be loathe to let anyone forget it.

Next to him, Illurain saw Belthorn kneeling beside his fallen fellows.

Never mind how the tally of dead grows ever longer.

Illurain placed a hand on the Exarch’s shoulder. Belthorn stiffened like a startled Gyrinx, hand going to his tempest launcher before stilling.

“Let me help you,” Illurain said, kneeling down next to the black-clad warrior. He reached for the dead Aeldari’s -- Infriel, that was his name -- chest plate.

“No.”

The word was a hammer, cold as a tombstone and just as hard. A vice-like grip held the Warlock’s wrist immobile. The grip wasn’t tight enough to be painful -- not yet -- but a bit more pressure and a twist at the right angle…

“Belthorn, I-”

“No.” The Exarch of the Grave’s Hold shrine was looking directly at Illurain now, the red-eyes of his helmet the very picture of Kael-Mensha-Khaine’s quiet, cold rage.

Slowly, the grip relaxed, and Illurain pulled his hand back. Belthorn ignored him then, and continued his work. With deft, expert hands, he unclasped Infriel’s chest plate. A soft blue glow emerged. Perhaps it was a trick of the light, but Illurain thought he saw the features of Belthorn’s mask soften, just a bit. An illusion, of course; Aspect Warrior armor was made from the sternest wraithbone, and yet…

Belthorn removed the source of the glow within, cradling Infriel’s Spirit Stone like it was the most fragile thing in the galaxy. It was certainly amongst the most precious.

“They’ll find peace in the Infinity Circuit,” Illurain whispered after a moment. “I know Fingfae. He’ll oversee the Ritual Of Grief himself.”

If Belthorn heard his words, he gave no sign. Slowly, gently, he placed Infrie’s Spirit Stone in his pack, and began the process of securing the remaining three.

It was a somber thing to watch, Illurain thought, a morbid thing. A solemn thing. A sacred thing. He felt at once honored and perverse to witness it.

Could an Exarch still feel grief, he wondered? Could a soul consumed by the rage of the Bloody-Handed God mourn for their departed comrades? 

Once upon a time, Illurain had walked the Path of the Warrior; he and Belthorn had fought together in the Grave’s Hold Shrine. He had felt how easy it can be, to get lost forever on that Path.

He had watched as Belthorn got lost on it, never to leave.

That was when Illurain left, and took up the Path of the Warlock.

Illurain sighed. These memories would do him no good. Belthorn was as lost to him now as the day he dawned the Exarch’s armor.

Silently, he rose to his feet and left his once-friend to his grim rituals. Fingfae was somewhere below. There was much to discuss. The mon-keigh would be back, and in greater numbers. They needed to prepare.

[shorthaltsjester]

doing questionable things like rewatching a bard’s lament for “fun” and scanlan and vex you will always be famous. the fact that scanlan brings up that they’ve travelled across planes to fix vex’s daddy issues but then it’s vex’s daddy issues that ground her rebuttal to scanlan when she tells him to stop treating kaylie like an object. and god. vex’s “fuck him! fuck him for not saying anything sooner. and fuck us for not asking.” in the immediate aftermath, and then once she has time to put her walls back up, vex’s “my take-away from scanlan is that we all talk too much.”

the fact that vex was the one who made that comment that without his magic scanlan is just some guy but he’s also the some guy that vex spends the campaign looking up to (even if she does it through barbs and snark), the fact that when vex was fighting against saundor hearing things like “unproven ally” scanlan was all jokes until he realized how much vex believed what was being said to her. the fact that when scanlan comes back, it’s vex who literally sees through his disguise.

what do you mean scanlan was a deadbeat father who discovered a daughter that he did love but loved only as an object until vex called him out on it? what do you mean vex was a woman who struggled to forgive in part due to her crapshoot father and she was the first to forgive scanlan when he came back?

vex and scanlan also have such interesting interactions in terms of the balance of snark, silliness, and sincerity. it’s not uncommon from any characters of sam or laura’s since they are both silly little guys who also love drama and roasting each other especially when it comes to character rp, but as always it’s so dynamic when it’s the two of them bouncing off each other, especially when they’re doing so through scanlan and vex who are already bitchy characters (affectionate) with humour as a deflection method. but it’s a silly and deeply sincere moment when vex finally puts the witch hat scanlan gave her back on with his promise that he won’t run away from the final battle. it is one of my favourite laughable moments in c1 but it also reeks of sincerity when scanlan asks vex if she prefers planetar scanlan or normal scanlan and vex tells him he is fucking hot as a planetar, but she loves him like he was and he’s her favourite when he’s just himself.

like. they’re insane do you understand. the dawnfather asks vex to prove herself and scanlan turns her into a dragon to help her succeed, pelor asks vox machina what vex means to them and scanlan says she’s greedy and mean and the most perfect of them all. the knowing mistress asks scanlan to prove himself and vex escorts him on a broom he unlocked for her and then she picks an impossible lock for him, ioun tries to remind scanlan that his strength is the joy he provides to his friends and he makes a deflective quip that he’s really powerful and vex undercuts his deflection with a sincere assertion that he is. scanlan cast his last wish spell letting her see her brother on her wedding day. vex sent herself across the continent alone with her worry and grief while scanlan’s corpse lay awaiting resurrection to ensure that his daughter could be there to either bring him back or say goodbye.

they are the platonic chosen soulmates of all time to me. i make a post like this like once a year minimum and it’s because they Haunt me. both sam and laura said what if we made high charisma characters using their charisma as a shield and humour as a weapon and they saw through each other’s masks but they never explicitly talked about it to one another. good riddance to talks machina but i will never forget the episode post bard’s lament with laura and sam where sam revealed that vex was the only one who said anything that actually got through to scanlan and another episode where laura revealed that the reason vex was so angry and sad when scanlan left was that vex felt like her and scanlan had a unique bond where they were the only two who really saw one another’s masks for what they were. also laura providing the insight that while vex was actively working on being more forgiving, another reason she was so open and happy with scanlan when he came back was that vex didn’t want to scare him away again.

what am i supposed to do with all that? be normal about scanlan and vex? literally impossible

[winterarmyy]

My Person

A series of random Bucky Drabbles that I can't let go but don't have the brain to make the whole complete plot of.

Summary: In which Sam's question forces Bucky to reveal his true feelings to his so called "friend", Y/N.

Pairing: tfatws!bucky x female!reader

Words: 3.2k++

Warnings: 18+ content, no minors allowed, nsfw, fluff, wee bit of angst, bucky is so adorable in this I WANT HIM SO BAD, also he is a bit feral. I feel like he can be more feral than this but you know, he doesn't wanna scare her away lol. This is just a result from surge of need so might not be too much of plot but I hope you enjoy your reading, anyway.

Inspiration: This post right here by @black-cat-2

Read my other works here: Masterlist

Sam took notice on every single crooks and corners as he followed Bucky's dragging footsteps from behind. It wasn't that he didn't want to help him but Bucky refused the offer right on the bat, saying that the serum will fix him up sooner or later.

The aftermath of their final battle with the flagsmasher was chaotic to say the least. With the splitting sides of public opinions of the new Captain America and the whispers about how the former winter soldier saved a bunch of civilian tonight had been the talk of the town.

But both Sam and Bucky decided not to think of it too much,  especially when both were exhausted from the fight. Not to mention Bucky was injured. Although Sam knew damn well that the soldier can managed himself to a hotel to rest for the night like he always does, but as a worried friend, or rather a babysitter some would say, he insisted to accompany Bucky all the way through.

And Bucky was not in the mood to argue; Sam is as equally stubborn as Steve used to be, so he let the man do whatever he wants.

It was clear Sam was suspicious of where the hell did this terminator brought him to, but mostly he was curious. He thought he would just accompany him to the nearest hotel but nope. After taking an Uber, the next thing he knew, Bucky was leading him into this apartment building, that was obviously not his.

"Last time I checked your apartment was in Brooklyn. When did you get a place here?" Sam asked as Bucky stopped at one of the identical looking doors.

"It's not mine" Bucky replied truthfully as he removed the glove from his fleshed hand and pressed his thumb at the top of the door handle.

Sam eyed him with a look on his face when he sassed at him, "Said the guy who is currently unlocking the doors with his fingerprint."

Bucky simply rolled his eyes before the chiming sound alerts that the door was unlocked. Bucky opened the door to let Sam inside before he himself got in after him. "Seriously, man. If I knew you can afford having two apartments I would've asked you to pay for tonight's dinner. That's the least you can do..." Sam's words died as his eyes scanned the apartment.

Whatever he was expecting the apartment to look like, it was far from it. He surely was not expecting the place to be fully decorated with complete set of furniture in every area of the room. Whether it is the living room area, or the huge kitchen that was also equipped with built-in oven.

Even with the lack of light, Sam could see the color pallette on the walls were definitely not what Bucky would go for. The sentimetal trinkets on the shelves, the sweet fragrant of the scented candles; everything was the very opposite of what Bucky's apartment in Brooklyn looks like, feels like.

This, it felt like home. Warm and inviting. Quiet and serene.

"You know what? I take that back. Whose house have you broke us into?" Sam asked, almost in awe rather than shocked, "I know for a fact that this ain't your house."

Bucky huffed a heavy breath as he remove his tactical gears, "I didn't say it was mine, remember? Or flying with the pigeons in the sky had made you forgot how to undertand human language?" there was an unfiltered sarcasm in his tone that didn't go unnoticed by Sam.

So obviously he got defensive and unknowingly increase his volume as he countered, "Woah woah, that was uncalled for. And for your information pigeons can't fly as fast a my wings, and rest assured that I--"

Bucky swiftly stomped towards him, eyes wide almost in anger, while his metal hand reached to cover Sam's mouth, "Can you shut the fuck up, she's probably asleep and your noisy ass will wake--"

"Bucky?" A tiny yet groggy voice interrupted the conversation causing both of them to turn their attention to the source. The figure peeped itself from the bedroom, her uncertainty made it that only half of her body was revealed through the doorway.

Her squinting eyes indicates how recent she was woken up from her sleep and Bucky flashed a quick glared at Sam for that. Sam simply shrug with his hands the air as a response. He was still confused who is this woman and why were they in her house.

Bucky's tight features softens as he called for her, "Hey, babydoll. What are you doing up?"

Recognizing that voice anywhere her feet made her way to him, "Heard some noises." She answered shortly as her knuckles find her eyes and rubbed it lightly. The closer she gets, the clearer Bucky can see the dark circles under her eyes, signifying how much she was lacking of sleep.

His heart squeeze a little at the sight, "M'sorry, sweetheart." it was as if their bodies were magnets that they naturally found each other. Bucky opened his arms wide for her to find her rightful place in his embrace.

"It's okay" she mumbled against his sturdy chest. "Welcome home." She continued.

You'd be surprise to know how much the former winter soldier absolutely adore the feeling of her lips moving against his skin. Even if it was blocked by the fabric of his shirt. It always felt good and he swore he could not get enough of it.

Bucky leaned down on top of her head, inhaling the strawberry yogurt scent of her shampooed hair, "Yes. I am home, indeed." His hugged got tighter, crushing her just enough to make those pretty little sounds slipped her from lips.

Strings of hushed moan kept purring in her throat when Bucky lightly swayed her from side to side; his fleshed hand drawing invisible circles on the back of her waist, while his metal hand gently squeeze the back of her neck.

If she let him pamper her more than this, they'd probably forget that Sam was in the room. Unabashedly had his mouth agape at the sight in front of him. He was not sure whether he wanted to look away or to continue staring because no amount of explanation will suffice to answer his questions.

Peeking from Bucky's shoulder, she smiled warmly as she finally acknowledge the unexpected guest, "You must be Sam. I've heard a lot about you."

She tried to wiggle an escape from Bucky arms, but it was no avail; he was not planning to let her go any time soon. She ended up dragging the enormous koala bear who was stuck on her back as she offered Sam a handshake, introducing herself.

"Good things I hope." Sam took her hand and lightly shake it as she replied, "Of course." As much as he wanted to keep his eye contact with her, it was extremely hard when the grumpy super soldier that he knew was basically melting in crook of her neck.

"I don't want to be rude but the two of you are..." Sam purposely left his words hanging, hoping that one of them would finish the sentence before he let out his assumption, however both of them remained silent. The woman was blinking at him confused, while Bucky was practically still drooling over the her.

"...Lovers?" Sam ended his sentence with an uncertain tone.

Both of them went rigid to the question but before Bucky could say anything, she answered first, "No!" She almost shouted, taking a deep breath before she rephrase her answer, "No. I mean yes. We're not... like that."

"So, you guys are friends then?" Sam quirked an eyebrow to her answer, and seeing Bucky's silence, he guessed that the super soldier might liked her more than just 'friends'.

"Yup, we are. We first met when Bucky was on the run from Hydra, before you guys found him. It's a long story, really." And by the time she explained the shorten version of their story, Bucky finally drifted his attention to Sam, a deep frown decorated his brows as he was mentally asking, "How much longer are you going to stand there? Get the fuck out."

Sam should be offended by his silent orders but considering he came in the middle of the night, uninvited, he realized that he should leave them be,"Then, let that be a reason for us to meet again. You can tell me all about this meet-cute of yours later. I don't want to keep you away from him any longer. Especially when he is staring daggers at me."

She lightly tapped on Bucky's arms, and quick frown at him followed after as she non-verbally asking him stop glaring at Sam. Needless to say, Sam removed himself from the scene after they, or rather she, bid him goodbye.

As soon as the doors closed, Bucky has her back pressed against the door, wasting no time than to capture her lips. A gasped from her made it easy for him to slip his tongue inside. He kissed her slow yet so hungrily as if he was starved of the taste of her sweet mouth against his.

Bucky broke the kiss momentarily just to whisper, "I missed you so much, babydoll." With his thigh in between her legs, he guided her clothed core to slowly hump against him. "Missed you, too." Her beautiful moans only encourage his cock to swell even more than it already was.

Breaking the kiss, Bucky let her catch a breath as his glazed eyes adored her soft features. He still remembered the day when he first met her.  When he escaped from Hydra's control, he was determined to keep his life down low. Don't attract to much attention, follow the schedule and stick to rules.

And his schedule was never interesting, it was always:

- write his journal entry

- find/do odd and non-permenant jobs for money

- grocery shopping and cooking

- watch the news

- and mostly just stay at home

Obviously, Bucky knows how to use the internet and all those modern devices that they have nowadays, but he never understand them; the 'social media' and the 'viral' things were never really appealing to him. So one day he decided to pay a visit to a small local library; hoping to find fimiliar solace in books instead.

What are the odds that both of them reach for the same book at the same time? After the multiple exchange of: 'Oh, I'm sorry, here take it.' 'No, you take.' 'No, please I insist.' They ended up meeting on a common ground; making a decision to sit down and read together. Turns out, spending a few hours with her at the library was the most peace he had since forever.

Bucky had a strict routine and rules. But the moment she asked him if he want to spend more time with her while she was there, he was ready to break all of it. And he did; for 7 days straight.

She was his first sense of freedom. His first choice in life.

Though, back then he was on a run, for presumably a lifetime, while she was on business trip for a week. So, they lost contact after that, especially when Bucky was running around with the Avengers and fighting aliens, but fate seemed to be on their side when they were reunited again in New York.

It's a miracle that she even recognized him. Little did he knew, he wasn't the only one who got hooked on the first few hours of that reading session had.

Though, he was extremely grateful that she reach out the moment she recognized him; no hesitant, no doubt. Just a confident and cheerful shout of his name in middle of the park that he walks through everyday.

The first thing that came out from her mouth after calling out his name was a compliment of his new hair cut and how she can see his beautiful eyes more clearer now. And that alone had made Bucky absolutely red in blush.

Weeks after that, she often joined him with his daily walk, making it their routine instead of just his. And months into this newly founded 'friendship', they found solace in each other's arms, comfort in each other's touch, and this quickly become their new favourite activity to do together.

Though none of them ever actually discuss their status but their body language suggest that they are more than just friends.

Especially with the way Bucky was rubbing the tip of his leaking cock on her clit; so desperate yet so gentle. Just like how he always does when he makes love to her. But, tonight he felt different. Maybe he was just needy or maybe it was the way she admit that they were not lovers when Sam asked about their relationship.

It was true. But, it felt so wrong.

"Am I just a friend to you, doll? Bucky leaned forward, his forehead met hers, his hot breath tickling her skin.

His tongue briefly passed in between his lips as he spreads her legs further, revealing her dripping cunt for his display, "Do your friends touch you like this, hmm?" His husky whisper as he rubbed his hardened length in between her slit, brushing against her clit.

"Do your friends kiss you all over like me?" She moaned breathily, as he bit and kiss the softness of her breasts; easily leaving his marks as if she was his to claim.

And without any warning, his cock slammed straight into her hole, stretching the walls to his size causing her to yelp in painful pleasure. Bucky let out a satisfied groan as the tightness of her around him, "Do your friends fuck this tight little pussy with their cock like me?"

Bucky couldn’t stop himself from pulling and pushing his hips to meet hers, his fingertips was practically digging into the flesh of her hips, moving her in time with his thrusts, "What am I to you, baby?" Honestly, it was hard for her to form complete thoughts, let alone reply to his question when he was fucking her so good.

Gone was the gentleman she knew for the past years, the koala bear that she spent hours on the couch cuddling to a movie marathon with. Now, there was only this feral beast, hungry for pleasure, insatiable to devour her whole body and soul.

Each roll of his hips pushed her further from her sober thoughts, focusing only on the wild look on his face, his huge body hunched over hers, his throbbing cock kissing her cervix. Any answer she was trying to convey was lost at the tip of her tongue; there were just the mewling mess, as she fell apart underneath him, compliant to his every thrust as his cock ramming within her. "Tell me. Come on, now. Use your words."

Bucky was almost losing his mind, from how bad he wanted to cum and how stubborn she was for not answering his questions. He pushed her legs up and wide as his thrust punctuated to his words,  "What. Am. I. To. You?"

It took her a couple of long moans at his roughness, before she could utter a single word, the only correct answer to his question, "Mine."

He groaned approvingly, pulling back just enough to slide his metal between their bodies. "I'm yours?" Those hard, cold fingers that she loved so much was quick to find her clit. She was already sensitive from all the friction of his rutting, and now was he relentlessly assaulting the swollen nub, "Then, does that make you mine as well huh, sweetheart?"

"Yes, Bucky. You're mine. And I'm yours. All yours. Pleasee"

Her back arches off the bed, toes curling tight as her nails dug into his skin and across his back; To have some kind of a leverage to hold as the overwhelming pleasure surged through her body.

"Yeah, that's right, babygirl. You're mine and mine alone. Mine to love, mine to fuck. Yes?" Bucky taunted her with both his words and the way he rutted into her wet pussy, as if he himself was not close to the egde.

The sound of skin to skin clashing intertwined with the sounds of her pussy squelching around his cock, his girth kept pounding straight into her sweet spot to the point that only lewd whimpers of plead were spewing out of her lips, "Yes, yes yes. Oh Bucky please,, fuck,, I'm cumming!"

"Cum, sweetheart. Let me feel that tight little pussy of mine cum around my cock" He hummed approvingly as he picked a deeper and harsher pace, causing her mouth to fall wide open and her eyes screwed shut as she felt her whole body shook as she came. "Yeah,, that's it, doll. That's my girl. fuckkk,, feels so good baby, gonna make me cum inside you if you keep choking me like that."

"Please, Bucky?" A breathy moan of his name passed her lips as she her walls spasm with need. Bucky groan to the sensation, he was sure that her pussy was already full of his precum, considering how it has been leaking inside her for so long, "Want my cum in you, pretty girl?"

Batting her eyes through her lashes, she stared up at him, pleading., "Need it, please."

"Oh fuck, you got it, sweetheart." Throwing his head back in pleasure, shutting his eyes solely to focus of the feeling of her wet and tight cunt, Bucky's pace quicken as he chased his high, "Hmmm,, fuckk,, gonna stuff you full. You'll leaking for days, babydoll. Then, I'm gonna keep filling you until you can't live without my cum inside your pussy."

Hearing such dirty confessiom only triggers her to near orgasm, "Yess pleasee i want it. Need it, bucky." Surely enough she came again when he hit that special spot inside her.

"Ahh,, fuck ahhh,, I'm cumming shit pussy so good m'cumming fuckkkk", Bucky couldn’t even stop himself from rutting in and out of her sweet pussy as his cock pulsed, especially when her cunt was sucking him in deeper.

His head fall down to watch his cock disappear inside her before squeezing it shut again when the white spurt of cum shoots against her walls. His jaw was loose as his mouth formed an ‘o’ shape to allow his loud groans contaminated the silenced room.

His thick endless cum warm her insides and the honeyed moans hanging off her lips to its own accord as Bucky hunched over her frame, pressing his face in crook of her neck, breathing heavily as she was. After awhile, a broken sound of his voice stopped the silence, "Do you really mean it?"

He refused to look at her in the eyes, afraid of the rejection that might come his way but she proved him wrong by holding him by his cheeks, leading his eyes to align with hers,

"Bucky. You, my dear, are my bestfriend; you are my heart, you are my person. And there is no one in this world that I'd rather spend my whole life with besides you." Her words was nothing but the truth and Bucky knew that.

His heart swelled with joy yet he didn't know how to express it other than, "I love you, doll..." there was pause as if he was gathering the pieces of his soul to offer it to her, "...So much."

And she accepted it with her whole heart, "I love you too, Bucky."

End.

Read my other works here: Masterlist

A/N: I was gone for awhile but never too long. Hope you enjoy this little drabble 👀

[wonderjanga]

Barely Human Cap

Imagine Cap as more dollish than human. Even though he’s supposed to be extremely durable/bulletproof, I think he could take major injuries and brush them off. Like at most, it’ll slow him down a bit, but he’ll just go back to fighting. And the reason for think would be that he can’t feel pain. Hence, the whole doll thing. Like, I can imagine the JL is fighting this super strong and powerful monster or villain that’s even giving the powerhouses of the league trouble. They then have to witness Marvel get hit really hard and go flying. Let’s say Flash runs over to see if he’s alright and sees that Marvel’s entire lower jaw is just gone. One of his eyes is also popped out of the socket and he’s kinda just laying there so Flash, rightfully so, thinks he’s dead. That is until Billy moves and tries to pop his eye back into its socket. He succeeds but not to the horror of Flash. He then casually gets up, even brushes off his cape, and starts to look for his jaw. He then finds it and throws it into a pocket dimension all while Barry watches. Then, when the speedster finally snaps out of his daze he immediately rushes over to Marvel and starts bombarding him with questions as if the champion could answer. Thankfully for Billy, an explosion in the distance helps them remember there’s still a super difficult fight going on so he flies off back to the fight. He horrified the other members of the league during this too.

I also feel like there would be other things. (which might or might not actually be canon) Like, I don’t think Marvel has reproductive organs. And I think Billy would say something like this if the situation ever came down to it:

Superman: “Your tiger isn’t neutered?”

Marvel: “No? Why would he be? Also, he’s not my tiger. He’s just a tiger. That happens to be one of my bestest friends.”

Superman: *doesn’t really know what to say to the last three sentences.* “Right… Well, what if he, y’knows another tiger?”

Marvel: “Then he y’knows her. Trust me when I say getting neutered sucks. I know from personal experience.” (He doesn’t, he just knows his Captain Marvel form doesn’t have anything in the lower regions.)

Green Lantern: “You know from personal experience…?” *He looks horrified.*

Marvel: “Yeah, I do.” (Again, he doesn’t) “One day, the wizard called me in and was like, ‘Marvel, come here.’ So I did. Then, he waved his hand, and everything down under was just gone. That was like ten thousand years ago, but it’s still fresh in my mind.” (He made that up as he went)

Flash: “You… You poor soul.” *Pats Cap’s shoulder.*

I also wouldn’t be surprised if Marvel doesn’t have organs in the first place. Like I can see Clark getting constantly jumpscared by Marvel because the man doesn’t need to breathe, no lungs, he doesn’t have a heartbeat, no heart, and Clark can’t even hear muscles straining as he moves so that suggests he doesn’t have muscles too.

I can also see Billy using this to blatantly lie to press whenever they ask about his dating life (he’s like twelve, he doesn’t have nor want one.) or literally anything else:

Reporter: “Captain!” *Runs over to Billy, camera crew following behind her.*

Marvel: *Stops* “Yes?” *Looks between reporter and camera.*

Reporter: “Could we interview you for a few moments?”

Marvel: “Oh uh- Sure!” *Gives a thumbs up*

Reporter: *Gives cue to camera guy to start rolling* “Alright, so are there any lucky ladies in your life?”

Marvel: “Hm?” *Makes the most confused face and looks around to the aftermath of a battle between Black Adam and him. That was what he expected her to ask about.* “I didn’t catch that.”

Reporter: “Are there any lucky ladies in your life? You’re quite a handsome man, Captain. I’m sure you’ve had your share of women.”

Marvel: *Stares at the reporter for a few seconds with that blank, computing expression.* “Uh… no?” Think, Billy! Think! What can you say to end this fast? “I can’t feel romantic feelings for anyone.”

Reporter: “Can you elaborate?” *Holds mic up to his face.*

Marvel: *thinking of how he can make this make sense* “Well, you see I… don’t have a brain! So I’m not really able to feel things like that.”

Reporter: “ -Oh. Uhm.” *Shocked and looking to the camera man before looking back at Marvel.* “Well—”

Marvel: *Cuts her off* “Okay, bye!” *Flies off fast.*

[mononijikayu]

safe and sound — nanami kento.

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

GENRE: Alternate Universe - Canon Convergence;

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

WORDS: 6.9k words.

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

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polaroid love | safe and sound

next: just one day

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“But Nanamin…”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I….I don’t know what to say.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Huh?”

“Huh? Itadori–kun, are you okay?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Thank you, Nana–san!”

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

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

“Hm. Itadori–kun’s a good kid.”

“Like Megumi–kun, hm?”

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

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

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

“How was your day?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hm, that’s a win for me then.”

“You tease, you!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He smiles. “Good.”

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

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

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

“That’s what I told Gojo.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

epilogue 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“But maybe when you retire….”

“......I’ll think about it.”

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

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

facts about nanami and his wife:

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

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

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

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

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

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

[itsonlydana]

Find a cure for my heart | hobbit

pairing: Thranduil x human fem!reader 👑

On the eve of the battle, you and Thranduil spent a night that spurred a flurry of letters while Dale grew as a city and you both grew too, first apart, then closer again. However, you couldn't bring yourself to burden him with the truth that your health was deteriorating with each passing day.

warnings/tags: sickness, angst, mentions of death (reader is actively dying but only realizes after Thranduil helps) hurt/comfort, happy end

words: 5,6k

an: finally finished this fic after working on it since January. If you are interested in being tagged when I post new fics– comment that under this post or send it to me in my inbox!

+ masterlist + rules

🌿 reposts and comments are appreciated, they motivate me a lot and keep me writing <3

Contrary to general belief, the elves did not return to their forests immediately after the battle.

In the stories told, there would be remarks, on how the Elvenking offered his help to the yet-to-be-crowned King Bard once more, bringing aid with however warriors he had left for disposal to search the endless chaos and ruins of Dale for survivors until many sunsets later.

They would speak about the sorrow of losing friends and family and neighbors to a war that had been won at costs no one could comprehend yet, and they would mention how the great Elvenking guided them through the darkest of nights for he had experienced this all before; the grief, the helplessness and the colossal question of What now, who's to say we haven't lost ourselves as well as those we have to bury?

Many had their own experience with the Elvenking, whether it was a hand pulling them off the ground, a loaf of bread delivered to them after days of fighting, or a warm blanket to huddle under to finally lay their body to rest under the watchful eye of Elves that had sworn to protect them.

You had your own story. A different one.

But it wasn't one with the Elvenking, no; the night before the battle, where the air was filled with the sound of blades being sharpened and children crying for their parents, you had met Thranduil, King of the Woodland Elves but most importantly: a set of strong arms that caught you as you stumbled out of Bard's tent.

You needed to run away from the discussions over how to draw the dwarfs out of the mountain.

You'd been a friend to Bard for many long years but standing in that luscious tent, being offered wine as the Wizard, Bard, and the Hobbit pondered over what was about to happen while you weren't sure your mind caught up on what had happened already, there was no room for friendship inside your panic-riddled chest.

Just as you flung open the tent flaps and tried to dash away to get some air, your foot caught on a root, and had it not been for Thranduil's fast reflexes, you surely would've planted your face into the dirt and mud.

Up until now, you had no idea what had transcended between the two of you at the moment where his arms held you up, his softening face looking down at your widened eyes filled with tears and your tongue too tied up and heavy to say anything other than: "Air– please"

Whatever it had been, likely an unspoken wish – by Thranduil or you, or maybe you both; it didn't matter – for someone who would not pass judgment over the urge to disappear from your skin and role and crown for one night, a fallen star flung across the darkened skies at the right time.

It felt as though Thranduil had pulled a sheet over your heads; your world narrowed down to this other soul and how beautiful and divine his body felt on yours as you found a way to survive the night before life as you knew it turned once more and the solid ground beneath your feet shifted and broke.

A few nights, while unforgettable and brooding with feelings neither of you admitted to, did not change that you had to move on somehow.

Although the Elves did not depart for Mirkwood immediately and Thranduil and you were given time in the aftermath to find the other in the cover of the night and under the pretense this was nothing more than mere distraction, a wishing star could only do so much shining before dimming out.

The day you awoke to a sunrise bathing the debris of Dale in a pinkish and warm light, pillars being rebuilt dipped into molten gold, and the cracks glued together, Thranduil's strong arms were wrapped around your middle as if he wanted to hinder you from sneaking away, you knew it was him who would leave you before the day was over.

And so he did.

Sunrise came and went and soon enough all the tents were packed up on horseback and wagons, leaving flattened grass as the only reminder they had been there at all if and there were goodbyes, political between Bard and the Elvenking who parted from the weary man and his children with the promise of support, and between you and Thranduil in the form of a slow nod.

Thranduil sat high on a dark stallion, dressed in silver and long robes that hid fingerprints that spoke of an attempt to cling to transience. His chin lowered, though his eyes were fixed on you.

You knew that nod carried the conversation you had whispered into the morning mist.

And it was all that wasn't said that motivated you to step away first and turn your back on the caravan that took away a King and a Lover.

There was much to do, the looming task of building up Dale needed everyone's full attention, and that included you.

Especially you.

There were houses to plan, accommodations to be made so that no one needed to sleep under the stars.

No one could ever pry the reason why you were keen on getting a roof under everyone out of your hands; a lonely part of you wanted the stars to remember you and Thranduil lying in the grass. And no one else.

The first letter arrived a few weeks after you hadn't had the heart to watch him go and threw yourself into one task after the other, dismissing even the smallest hint of sickness, like the heaviness inside your chest every time you lifted something heavy, or tiredness crashing down onto you in moments to catch your breath, to continue working, that you wouldn't find a moment to admit how much you missed him.

That utterly ridiculous mindset stopped as soon as the messenger Elf rode into the city and hand-delivered you the first of many envelopes with the nearly indecipherable handwriting of Thranduil.

Or the Elvenking.

Because the first letter, despite being addressed to you as well as Bard, who wouldn't have been able to read it in the first place, was a list of things the King would send and a question of what else was needed that he could provide.

"It's fine," you said to Bard through a smile that didn't reach your eyes as you read aloud the letter twice, from the greeting to the last paragraph that was signed 'the Elvenking Thranduil Oropherion, Lord of Mirkwood and friend of Dale'.

In the flickering light of the candle dripping wax onto the table between you, the dark circles under Bard's eyes were all the more prominent than when he was running around the city and there was a bottomless pit in your stomach that wouldn't want to add to the many things he was already worrying about.

"It's totally fine," you said to Bard when he asked if you had skipped over a private note from Thranduil or if there truly wasn't one (there wasn't, you had turned the letter over and over in your hands until the edges became soft and wrinkled) and you both knew that to be a lie.

You answered the letter in the same professional manner because even though you wanted to, you couldn't send a letter to a King helping however he could and expecting nothing in return with a smeared "I wish for your heart and our nights and for your voice to tell me we are alright" written under tears in another sleepless night.

The next few letters follow the same pattern, Elvenking Thranduil Oropherion would inquire if there was anything Dale needed and answer Bard's question on leadership and share his knowledge of what was fundamental for a new King, and you would write for Bard on the other side.

The weeks passed and so did the hope of rekindling that fire you had thought to burn in the both of you.

That Thranduil didn't see the need to reach out was a punch to the gut that left little room for anything else but disappointment of putting your effort into pulling on a rope that wasn't attached to something on the other end.

Why waste the dwindling energy of your exhausted body on someone who would live longer than the memory of you?

Every time a new letter arrived by messenger you would find Bard until one late evening you opened the letter by yourself and saw your name written in that beautiful sharp handwriting, not Bard's added in front or behind; only your given name and not your title.

Your hands shook as you stood in the frame of what was to be your house and the ink glued together the cracks of your heart.

'Forgive me for not writing to you sooner and for how sentimental I must sound. It has been weeks since I last saw you and every time I wander through my familiar halls, I find there is no soul around that could understand me how you did, whom I could tell what plagues my mind. The time we spent together has not left my thoughts. Neither has the promise to not grow apart too much and I apologize for not contributing to that. Now, if you would still have me, I would like nothing more than to hear how you are faring. As for me…'

Nothing had the power to stop you from running off that giddy feeling that spread through your chest as Thranduil, finally Thranduil, wrote about the happenings in Mirkwood; not even the cough that sat deep where suppressed laughter spilled into the grass you fell into– the letter clutched into your hands.

Thranduil and you fell into a routine then, one that was no obstruction for the many tasks at hand but made room for each other to hold on to the promise.

You would send out two letters, one on behalf of Bard whom you taught his signature as well as a few more words every fortnight you sat down together, and one addressed to Thranduil, filled with all the thoughts that ran through your mind that you wanted to tell him.

It was by no means as precious as the talks you had now many weeks ago, not when there were days you had to wait for a response instead of seconds.

You appreciated them all the same, every bit of himself that Thranduil wrote into his messages was countered with a confession of your own.

When he said he wished to know where his son had disappeared to or rather if he followed the direction Thranduil had given to him, you admitted to the nightmares that still plagued your mind, the dreams of fire and a monster that still rested in the lake.

You offered piece after piece, chipped bits of your heart into every letter that you sent away, and after a few weeks had passed, and Dale was taking shape with its houses raking their roofs to the sky and its people planting seeds and flowers, rooting themselves into what now was theirs, there was not much left of your heart that was completely yours and not Thranduil's and the letters of his proved that the same could be said about him.

What you did not mention, not with one drop of ink, was that the nightmares were no longer confined to the few hours of sleep you fell into.

There was a dragon, not just in the cold lake where your old home lay in ashes and was drowned in the ruthless darkness, but by the heavy weight on your chest, it felt like there was one inside you as well.

You were coughing as if there was smoke blocking your lungs, blackening out what little air you heaved for when a coughing fit took over your whole body.

It started small, a cough then, a sleepless night there; both accumulated to an uncountable amount and it got only worse as the season changed and the autumn winds lost their last warm touches and the trees bared their wooden arms.

You waved it off as a common cold, nothing that would hinder you from your tasks to becoming a liability the city didn't need in its time of growth.

Then, the coughing got worse, rougher, sometimes taking your voice for a moment until you found some water although that only helped for a small moment, like trying to extinct a burning building with just the water your bare hands could carry.

The worst part was the blood that stained the cloths, the sweats that not only held you awake at night but weakened you at day as well.

"I'm better!" you promised Bard on a night when he had to sit next to your bed, wringing out the cold cloths that lay on your fevered forehead.

His voice was a low whisper when he dabbed away the sweat, pushing your wet hair back with hands that were far too gentle for what you deserved for rotting in bed and not pulling your weight, "You're not, an' that's clear for everyone but you. Did you tell him?"

"Yes," you lied through your teeth, eyelids dropping close from exhaustion but you knew sleep wouldn't come, "he said it would pass, nothing to worry 'bout."

Three days later you were on your legs again, if not a bit shaky and needing more breaks than ever.

You sat in Bard's kitchen, a warm bowl of soup in front of you that tasted like ash and firewood, and ignored the silent pleading in his eyes to tell him what was going on and why you could barely lift the spoon of a soup that you clearly did not enjoy.

Winter wore your body down like rough sandpaper on soft oak, the cold winds and dark hours an enemy far worse than what you had to encounter on the battlefield. This had no logical explanation, nor was there an enemy you could see.

Your own body betrayed you and you had no idea what you had done to deserve it.

You knew that somewhere was a solution to it all, that was the string of hope leading you through the snow outside and the fire in your blood and bones, singing down what little fight was left on the days when the sun pushed away gray clouds and you felt normal and healthy.

The sole reason why you lied in letters filled with otherwise honesty as pure as heaven's snowflakes was that you did not want to be a bother.

Thranduil wrote how much of his time the dwarfs and their trading demands swallowed; he did not need another burden and you would be damned if he came because you had a small cold you couldn't get rid of.

You had promised Thranduil to visit him in spring when the soil was rich enough for the seed to take and the livestock could roam the meadows. If you weren't better by then you would ask him.

Until then work demanded all of you. Even if that was through a white knuckle grip on the last bits of health in aching bones.

⸺

Spring brought forth daffodils pushing through the cobblestone streets. Tilda, the youngest Bardling and a wonderful distraction on the days when getting out of bed was the hardest bounced excitedly beside you and pointed at the flowers.

"Like stubborn trumpets proclaiming winter is finally over!" she said as you followed her outside. "Spring is finally here!"

You disregarded the pain echoing through your body, the weight of guilt forcing you to spend the day with the girl.

She had been knocking on your door every morning, angelic eyes asking if you wanted to come and play with the lambs that she had taken too and this morning, you couldn't disappoint her.

"Aren't they just so pretty?" Tilda crouched down, gently cupping one of the blossoms in her small hands.

Lowering your gaze from the burning brightness of the sun you got a short glimpse at the yellow dots decorating your doorstep.

Then, suddenly, black spots appeared on the edge of your vision, taking you by surprise though they have been your companion for the better part of the last few days.

"Tilda–"

You tried to hold on to your doorframe, bruised hands frantically searching for a grip on the warm wood but they slipped and caught only the edge.

The last thought that crossed your mind was that you should bring Thranduil some of those flowers before you blinked and crumbled to the ground.

⸺

You woke up to the confusing taste of grass on your heavy tongue and the dizzying realization that you were not spread out on the street but tugged inside your bed.

Above you, moonlight fell through the opened window in the slanted roof above your head and you immediately closed your eyes again.

This had to be a dream.

Though your dreams had not been like this in a long time.

Peaceful. Comfortably warm. Silent except for the croaking of toads, the buzzing of insects outside, and the laughter and clattering of your neighbors probably enjoying the night more than you.

A groan passed your lips as you tried to sit up; a seemingly impossible task with the heaviness of your bones as well as the mountain of blankets that covered you.

"What do you think you are doing?" a voice you knew all too well sneered.

For a second you thought it to be a hallucination, a projection or your dazed mind still lulled in the fog of unconsciousness.

The bones in your neck cracked as your head snapped to the other side. There was no way you did not imagine the tall figure that should be across the woods in his palace; not in your bedroom.

"What are you doing here?"

"Merely strolling through the neighborhood," Thranduil's voice dripped with sarcasm, yet a subtle tension marked his stance beside the bed. "Now, enlighten me. Did you conveniently forget to mention this sickness in your letters?"

Ah, straight to the point.

"It's trivial," you waved it off, attempting to assert yourself by sitting up.

Naturally, consciousness promptly slipped away once more.

This time you were not that surprised by the sharp taste of grass on your lips when you came to your senses once more, pushed back into the pillows that had never felt this stuffed. You were still unable to move your leg more than from one side to the other under the blankets and Thranduil was still there, glaring at you through dark furrowed brows and hardened eyes.

You wanted to say something to break the heavy silence but all that passed your lips was a giggle that was more desperate and closer to insane than amusement.

One brow lifted. "Oh, how glad I am you are entertained by this," said Thranduil. He was as rigid in a frightening calm way but all of that was overshadowed by the cloud of confusion that muddled your thoughts.

"Noo," you drew out the word and continued giggling. This had to be insanity. "You jus' look very out of place here – wait. Turn around? I need to make sure you're really here."

He didn't fit into the cramped space of your house, his fine clothing stood out against the poor backdrop of crooked furniture, used towels hanging over stools, and the small layer of dust that covered the areas you hadn't been able to clean in a while; which was most of the bedroom and you didn't dare think about the state of the kitchen.

Where he deserved a throne out of gold you could only offer the chair next to your bed, the one that was crooked and leaned heavily to one side.

That being said, nothing took away the sheer amount of power he radiated.

It easily filled every nook and cranny or tight corner of your humble house, his voice as well as the image of Thranduil, King of the Elves, towering over your bed in long robes and bathed in the light of the night sky, glittering silver like the moon knew the importance of the Elf in front of you.

Thranduil remained stoically still. "I will definitely not do that," he said. "I am here. Where I should have been a while ago."

The accusation would have hit harder if you weren't drugged up on whatever medicine he had apparently fed you while you were out cold.

You shrugged your shoulders as well as you could with your arms bundled under the blankets. "I saw no reason, it was just a cold. Nothing I couldn't manage."

Well, you hadn't managed to handle it, that was the worst realization of the whole lie.

"Clearly," Thranduil said sarcastically and ground his teeth against each other. His arms were behind his stiff back and the way he tilted his head down to you made you feel like a child being admonished for bad behavior. "Do you know how much despair I felt when Bard's letter arrived this morning?" His voice was even but there was a resonance in it – a deep rumble akin to the ominous approach of distant thunderstorms over the sea. "Nearly indecipherable scrambles where he begged me to come; telling me that you have been asleep for two whole days?"

A crack in the form of a small tremor broke through the mask of the all-mighty Elvenking.

"This morning?" you asked, caught up by the first part and ignorant of everything that followed after, and you huffed while running the calculations through your head. "Thranduil, this can not be, the journey is not manageable in one day."

"Is this truly the point you consider most important?" He closed his eyes as a pained expression passed over his face. "You deem it impossible, yet I assure you, nothing could have hindered my arrival here; the boundaries of possibility, for once, were not a barrier but an aid. It reveals your scant regard for your circumstance if your worry fixates on my journey through the land. Not on the sickness that nearly stole you from this world. Two days –" Thranduil took a deep breath, "two whole days where those around you had no idea if you would ever awake again."

"But –"

"No, you can speak when I am finished," he commanded sharply. "You were reckless. Ignorant of your health as if your life was not precious." Thranduil spat the words out cold yet they burned. He was blind to the way you flinched and lowered your burning eyes to the blankets.

You shrunk deeper into the pillows, a hollow ache inside your chest that had felt empty from the pain ever since you awoke the first time.

"But –" you repeated helplessly. This time, he allowed you to continue and you did so in a whisper: "I didn't want to be an inconvenience."

"An inconvenience?" he sneered back at you, the flickering lights of a few burned-down candles casting shadows over the creases of anger edged into alabaster skin.

He took a step toward the bed and you saw a twitch in his lips that had you blanching.

The fury brooding inside him was not new, you had seen it on the battlefield before. In ice-cold cuts of his sword as he flawlessly executed the most brutal movements while his face resembled a mask of the most dangerous kind of rage – stillness.

Now, there remained little of that stillness.

"You were a greater inconvenience by nearly throwing away your precious mortal life, all because of your unfathomable stubbornness!"

"There was lots to do!" you snapped back. Shortly but surely, you were fed up with his anger and the insults he was throwing at you. "This town was suffering far more than me and don't you dare tell me I'm wrong," you had to bury your teeth into your lower lip to stop it from shaking. "Dale needed me!"

The pale skin was flushed red around his heaving chest and delicate ears. "And I do not?" Thranduil road and his voice boomed through your little bedroom loud enough for the cicadas outside to fall silent.

Immediately, your eyes watered. You felt trapped under his gaze, engulfed in pure heat hotter than any dragon fire.

You searched for a response inside you but found none.

All there was was chaos – the loud beating of your heart against your chest like iron being beaten and shaped though all that was formed was pain sharp like a sword edge; cutting through the layers of protection you had wrapped around your heart.

Thranduil slightly lifted his nose, staring down at you through thick eyebrows and a clenched jawline. "You were dying," he said and his nostrils quivered. "I can not fathom how you through that would not have been a greater inconvenience.

His expressions made up in sound for the lowered voice he'd used to speak about what you previously refused to acknowledge.

Never before had you seen him this out of control of his emotions, not even on the nights he had bedded you where he still had a hold on himself.

The way he stood before you, dressed in fine robes not fit for riding, the hem of them stained by dirt, his boots muddy, and his face full of anguish, it was as if he could have been kneeling at your feet.

You ignored the tears slipping silently down your cheeks. "It wasn't that bad, was it?"

"It was indeed, and far beyond that."

The tears made it impossible for you to continue looking at him and your head dropped down as a sob broke through you. "I didn't know," you panicked, "It didn't happen fast so… so I thought it'd pass but – and then it got worse and worse and I was so afraid to speak to anyone about it." The words tumbled into your lap, where, under the blankets, your hands were balled to fists now that the strength to do so had returned to your body, "I – I couldn't," the night air stung as your breaths turned into gasps, "They – Bard was exhausted and –"

Thranduil's face softened ever so slightly, pushing away the furious frown. "You are too pure for this world," he said quietly and – dealing a fatal blow to your ever-fragile heart – slowly went down on one knee next to the bed until you were eye to eye and his cold long fingers could gently caress your wet cheek.

He stopped, most of his fingers covered in the glistening tears he'd freed you from and his thumb rested on the plushness of your lower lip. "The world would have lost its sunshine had you perished," his robes rustled as he drew closer, silver hair falling onto the blankets like stars flying across the skies, "You must promise me to be more careful or darkness shall be my companion from that day on."

How could you do anything else but break into tears once more?

They flooded your face too fast for Thranduil to catch them with his hand and he did what seemed more reasonable yet utterly out of character: he rose to push away some of the blankets and sat down on the mattress.

While his face showed some revelation of his thoughts at the meek bed of hay that surprised him, he said nothing except for a lowered: "Hush now, shh." while his arms found your shaking body and pulled you into his side.

He cradled you until there were no more tears to cry, until your cheeks hurt and your lashes clung together awfully damp, and then some more, his hands on your back, cooling down the firing heat that spread through you and the other in your hair. With tenderness, he massaged his fingertips into the areas where your head throbbed uncomfortably.

You cried for all the nights where you had suffered, drawing closer to a death you hadn't seen coming.

You cried out of relief that this was finally over, that you could breathe and inhale only the rich scents of Thranduil instead of smoke.

You sobbed uncontrollably long into the night, not caring one bit that by the time the wailing grew quiet and exhaustion rendered you weak enough to fall into his chest even more, Thranduils robes needed to be padded dry.

"Thranduil?" you asked and burrowed your nose into a spot of fabric that wasn't salty. "Can you tell me what was happening to me?"

He didn't start directly. Thranduil waited, his heart stuttering for a second that made you marvel that the muscle was affected by you at all despite the many proofs he had laid to your feet.

Were it not for the pounding headache you fostered and tried to push away by shutting away all the lights and leaving your eyes closed, you would have looked at his face to check for those minuscule expressions he only showed to you.

"At first I could not figure it out," Thranduil admitted at last and his previously stilled hand continuing the circular movements against your scalp, gathering hair between his fingers, "and that frightened me more than anything else. There was not a scratch or a wound, nothing that explained why you were hardly–" he flinched and his other hand held your waist tighter, "hardly breathing. Bard was the one who explained how much you fought against this illness all winter, ever since autumn to be precise. He spoke of the meals you denied, the coughing and shaking, the blood-soaked cloths, and how.. how you rarely slept and if you did, he told me he heard your whimpers and sobs whenever he passed your door."

"He noticed it all?"

"He loves you," Thranduil said, "He loves you just as much as his offspring."

You shut your eyes even closer, turning your head more into his chest as another layer of protection against the feeling of pain that flinched over your face like a stone skipping on water, leaving ripples of agony at the memory of the many times Bard had pleaded you to talk to him. "I never wanted him to hurt at my expense."

"He is aware you thought it to be better this way," Thranduil lovingly stroked your hair – and it was love, soft and beautiful like the elf who abandoned his kingdom to race to save you – "To go against his word to you declares him a strong man and leader, Dale will flourish under his guide and your gentle hand will provide your people all they will ever need."

"So what was it?" you asked the question eating away at you, "This sickness?"

Thranduil's fingers twirled a lock of hair as he hummed lowly, "The beast in the lake is at fault," he said, "and its body infesting the in any case dirty water that you used to still your thirst."

You lifted your head at that, staring up at Thranduil whose gaze was already on you. "The dragon?" you repeated perplexed, "I got sick because of that damned dragon?"

Thranduil nodded, "I sent out the order to have its carcass removed this instant, so no one else has to suffer this fate."

You drew your eyebrows together, the hard crease between them immediately found by Thranduil for him to smooth the frown away with his thumb and a soft click of his tongue.

"So I was the only one?" The conclusion was confirmed by another nod that sent you down another spiral of confusing thoughts and loose threats of a riddle that made no sense to you.

"A mystery," Thranduil said as if he could read your thoughts, "There is no explanation as to why you solely were affected and quite intense at that. I was glad to have brought Asëa aranion with me – although you required more than a handful until your heart finally calmed."

In a moment of contemplating silence, you barely managed to stifle a yawn.

Now that your body seemed to be fine again, all your muscles yearned for the sleep that had evaded you for the longest time.

Thranduil's pleasantly warm body around you lulled you into a state of calmness, his body heat and the memories of his touch you replaced with the feeling of his strong chest in your back, and his hands threading hair through his fingers.

He was curled up in your bed, in your home, not some tent under the stars though you could see them if you looked up and through the window.

As you did so, your eyes didn't travel further than Thranduil and the watchful look on his face.

"You're as beautiful as the day you left," you remarked in a whisper like a slip of your tongue but you meant every word.

While your body ached and wore new scars his hands and mouth hadn't explored yet, he could've been away for a day or less.

You lifted a hand to stroke over his left cheek, over the faint scarred muscles that you knew by whispers hid what he deemed hideous.

Thranduil caught your hand before it reached his cheekbones and his lips pressed a light kiss against the calluses, the signs of hours of work.

"Rest, meleth nîn, you need it."

There was no denying that the elvish words had meant something important, that was clear by the way his tongue had wrapped around the words and breathed them out like a kiss but his lowered lashes and downturned lips hindered you from asking what he had said.

This was not the time to question what was probably just for him.

Later, when you were not falling into the depths of sleep cuddled against Thranduil's chest, when you would step outside your house with his looming presence in your back ready to help you with every foot you set on the grounds, there would be stories awaiting you.

Stories of the Elvenking storming into the city on horseback and all alone, the wind seemingly carrying him faster than possible and the fury and worry on his face lowered all citizens to the grounds as he yelled for their King.

They would speak about the way he nearly broke down Bard's door and how he carried your unconscious body in his arms to your house, demanding for the crowd to make themselves rare before he had them all seized and locked into his halls for obstructing his path; and even though he had no authority, Bard was close on his heels and no one dared to object.

You would hear about the day he sat by your side, caring for you and barking out orders for more water, not the one from the lake but from the springs, and how Bard and his children were the only ones allowed to visit – explaining the yellow flowers that took up every single glass your house had to offer.

Thranduil would tell you the meaning of the words he had said that first night he had spent in your bed, fully awake and watching your sleeping form in his lap until the birds woke you up in the morning; and he would say these words on all the nights that followed.

With him in Dale, or you in Mirkwood – never apart from then on.

[morganitering]

Because I'm the Weakest

Pairing: yandere!Satosugu x fem!reader

Warnings: Rape/non-con, Dead dove, darkfic, dissociation, trauma, rape fantasy, rape aftermath, vomiting (not during sex), unhealthy relationships, non-consensual drug usage, drugged sex, canon typical violence, sexism, implied/referenced alcohol usage/abuse

Contains: F/M/M, spitroasting, oral sex, penis in vagina sex, blow jobs, face-sitting, come play, overstimulation, voyeurism, slight size kink, humiliation/degradation, vaginal fingering, mentioned Nanami.

Word count: ~6,5k

Summary: Growing up as a female sorcerer has not been easy, especially when you are overshadowed by two prodigies. You used to form a tight-knit friend group, but now in adulthood everyone battled their own demons whether it be a god complex or feelings of inferiority. Gojo Satoru revives a group chat that was almost long forgotten, inviting you and his boyfriend for a long weekend, just like the old days. Before the regrettable night, you wouldn't have ever thought that you'd need to raise a fist against a friend.

A/N: Hey everyone, another fic but this time featuring our two favorite dudes with insanity turned to the max. This fic is once again full of warnings and proceed with caution and read the tags! Remember to take care of yourself. Otherwise enjoy and feel free to like and comment <3

read on ao3 PART II

“Booring,” Satoru complained audibly as he looked through the streaming services’ different movies and series. The little icons changed from bombshell babes to twisted faces with titles written in blood. He was sprawled over the corner of a ridiculously huge couch and he was wiggling his foot as a nervous tick of his. He wasn’t wearing his usual garb, instead he had opted for something more relaxed and comfortable.

“If you’re so bored you should help us out in the kitchen,” Suguru sighed, his black hair draping over his shoulders, still slightly wet from the shower he had taken earlier. When you had pointed out that he was leaving droplets of water everywhere where he went, Suguru had just smiled at you and told you that it’s better for hair to air dry.

He held a knife in his right hand and the other one held onto a cucumber to keep it in place. His fingers were slender but by no means unmanly. Suguru wasn’t too fixated on the vegetable in front of him, chopping away with confidence only experience would provide.

“And where would the fun be in that since I got you two as my private chefs?” Satoru pouted as he shoveled candy in his face.

“You’re going to lose your appetite, if you eat candy now,” you chimed in, poking the halloumi that kept on sizzling on the pan. The water evaporated in a mist that warmed your cheeks in the cool apartment. It wasn’t actually cold in the open plan kitchen, but you had spent long enough in front of the appliances to break a sweat.

“I’d eat it anyway,” the white haired man whined as he got up from the couch finally settling on a tv series that started playing mindlessly in the background. “So, what am I supposed to do?” He asked after grabbing a piece of pomegranate from a small see through bowl. He walked behind you both like a shark, eyeing the ingredients and you, uncomfortably close.

“Set the table and learn to bitch less,” you joked.

“You wound me,” Satoru said, feigning sadness, but did as he was told.

The three of you were residing in an apartment that Satoru had bought himself from one of the skyscrapers surrounding Tokyo. After Jujutsu High it had gotten increasingly hard for the three of you to meet as adult responsibilities weighed heavily on both of their shoulders, – especially Satoru’s, but you saw the similar pain carried in Suguru just as well.

You were not weak, but you could not compare to the two prodigies. On the days when you felt down, the pain of third wheeling constantly ate you up, sometimes so much so that you rather left the two men talking together in the group chat. It furthered the wedge between you and them, until the messages became sparse and you almost could pretend not to know them.

It had been six months since the last time you met, but one day Satoru broke the silence and a notification popped up from your shared chat. It had taken you by a surprise, you were vaguely aware that even him and Suguru had issues with fitting each other in their lives, due to individual missions and what not. So the fact that Satoru decided to deliberately send a message to you as well, got you anxiously excited. He reached out to you. You. A high school friend that barely kept in touch with him.

“Guys! I refuse to work this weekend so come to my place. Let’s have a get together like the good old times ❤️ ❤️?? A little sleepover if you will!”

“Lol what about the higher ups?” Suguru had asked, typing back way too fast.

“Actually never mind I don’t want to be made into an accomplice in your crimes,” Suguru had continued.

“Am I invited too?” You had asked, hands shaking slightly as you stared at the bright screen, already tucked into bed. It was late, but Satoru was a known night owl.

“Damn, what have I done to earn this type of reputation 😭” Satoru complained, reacting to both your and Suguru’s message. You could hear his voice as if he was there in the same room as you.

“Of course you are invited, silly. I wouldn’t send this here if you weren’t.”

So now you were there, living an almost ridiculously domestic life with the couple that you had been hanging out with ever since you were sixteen. They had not changed too much. They were still both tall and slender but years had rid them of the rest of the baby fat as they started to resemble more men than boys, vigorous fighting showing in their bodies in an ever gained muscle mass. You supposed you were the same too. Battle hardened. That’s the word you were looking for.

You were just about to sit down but you saw long limbs reaching out to the white chair pulling it backwards. You looked at Satoru with a raised eyebrow. He was acting weird.

“What? I’m a host. I’m being hospitable,” he said, voice melodic as he pressed his hand on your shoulder to pet your arm reassuringly a few times. Suguru laughed quietly as he sat down next to Satoru.

You ate and drank, buzzing with energy. It was like no time had passed and you wondered why did you ever stop talking to these two. After a drink or two you were brave enough to ask for some hot gossip. Like every high school friend, you went through old drama, like how ugly Nanami’s haircut used to be.

“Has Nanami found love yet?” You had asked. He seemed like the type to find a decent relationship first out of all of you, but to everyone’s surprise it was these two men.

“Do you still have a crush on him? I heard that he’s quite a looker nowadays” Suguru bounced a question back at you with a smile tugging on his lips. It was that one expression that looked a tad too kind.

“No, I don’t. I was just curious,” you tried to move on from the subject. You did not really discuss your relationship history with these two, at least not anymore.

“Why?” Suguru asked, leaning on the hand he had placed on the table. The atmosphere felt off, it was as if he was challenging you. You looked at Satoru who seemed to be equally as interested in your answer.

You scratched your neck awkwardly.

“I- I think he’s too soft,” you said blushing at the implication of your words. You had turned your gaze to your almost empty bowl, your mind going to improper places. As you were buried in your embarrassment, Satoru and Suguru shared a silent look with each other.

At some point during the evening you had moved to the white haired man’s bedroom. He wanted to show you the view from the window since he lived on the 30th floor. It was magnificent. The busy streets were bustling even during the night and you stared at the small lights that blinked in different colors. Your eyes followed the cars that swerved left and right as some people were gathered up in front of bars for a smoke break. You barely could make them out from the height you were in.

Satoru’s bedroom was basically the size of someone’s apartment. The bed was huge and sleek, unlike the common area. This room was a lot moodier and darker and it actually showed that he lived here, small bits and bobs decorating shelves and few paintings were hung up on the wall that you reckoned were Suguru’s taste.

Your drinks had changed from light cocktails to expensive red wine that you were almost scared to consume, but when Satoru saw hesitation in you he made a point to assure you that it’s all on him and after that almost instantaneously Suguru asked you something, leaving you no room to overthink.

The uneasiness still followed you. It was a gut feeling that you were really bad at listening to. You did not believe you were in danger – at least you’d like to think that as a jujutsu sorcerer you’d be trained to recognize threats by now. Luckily the red wine relaxed you, lulling you to the feeling of safety.

The volume of music was loud as the three of you listened to some throwback songs that still made you shamelessly want to dance. You were celebrating embarrassingly in Satoru’s room laughing, swaying your bodies along with the beat. It was as if you were in a club, except this was way more intimate. The world spinned around you, the warm lights mixed with the glimpses of the night sky and the longer outlines of your friends. You felt light, time slowing down and going overspeed at the same time as if you were alone on the highway. Your friends’ smiles stretched on their faces, eyes twinkling manically as both of the men appeared to you in double. Eventually when you tired each other out the whole group collapsed on the bed still humming happily. Satoru’s bed was plush and big enough to have room for the three of you.

You noted the way the silk felt like a warm hug underneath you, the ceiling moving like a slithering snake’s skin on savannah.

Satoru was lying on his back on the left side of you, his white hair now more tousled than before whereas Suguru was on the right leaving you in the middle of the two men.

“I think we should play a question game,” Satoru’s voice was bordering on a whisper. The music had stopped.

You stayed silent. “Satoru, I’m not feeling too good,” you managed to say. The bed was a ship and you were a passenger of the sea.

“I didn’t know you’re that lightweight,” Satoru’s hand reached out to your head to pet you, the gesture meant to lower your guards, but in your ever increasing discomfort, his touch only managed to make your skin tingle with aversion.

“Just humor us for a bit, it could be like the good old days, right?” Suguru argued, flashing a dead smile at you.

“Okay, whatever. Ask me something,” you rolled your eyes, too tired to fight them in your weird mental and physical stage.

“Hmm,” Satoru turned to his side to face you, his blue gaze piercing yours as you were still laying on your back. You had no idea when he had removed his sunglasses. You heard Suguru moving next to you as well. “What do you mean by Nanami being too soft?” The way Satoru laid down the question was impish.

The tone of the conversation had taken a full one-eighty and you opened your mouth to answer with only lies on the tip of your tongue, but then you decided against that. Those two had a very good bullshit radar.

“Do you want to hear what I think?” Satoru grinned playfully as he licked his plump lips once.

“I think Nanami would bore you out of your mind, missionary on Mondays without the lights on? Ugh, I wouldn’t want that for my worst enemy,” he said, laughter hollow full of malice. You couldn’t believe your own ears.

“I think you want it rough and behind that tough girl act, there’s an insatiable woman with some wild fantasies,” he blabbered his obscene thoughts. “Tell me, have you ever had sex with two men?” Gojo’s voice was loud and it was as if he was talking to you from a speaker that had been locked in another room. He was too close, too far away and simultaneously too here.

“What the-” you got cut off.

“Don’t curse. It’s unseemly from a woman,” Geto said calmly.

“Answer me,” Gojo demanded. During high school you would have described Gojo’s eyes as a beautiful spring day. You would have said that he reminded you of blue skies with perfectly white fluffy clouds, but now his eyes had turned to something much paler and darker. They reminded you of deep untouched snow drifts turned to blue in the moonlight as they sparkled ominously, waiting for the first little animal that dared to break the pristine condition.

“What did you do to me?” Your voice was not your own, it was weak, the accusation of your words turning dull as the red wine you had drank earlier sanded the edges away.

“Nothing permanent,” Geto said.

His admittance striked terror in you. Realization hit you, you were not safe here and you felt the familiar warmth flowing in you like a second nature. You manipulated the cursed energy, channeled it and let it flow steadily in your body guiding the power to your hands, but something in it felt unstable, it felt like a chord that was almost broken just barely connecting.

“Did you know that some drugs really affect the ability to use cursed energy? Not that it would matter in your case,” Geto explained, his voice overflowing around you, sticking to your skin like honey.

“Fuck you!” You yelled letting out a gust of wind to both sides, throwing the two men away from you. They landed nimbly to the floor, like cats, as you yourself hopped up from the bed, your vision blurred, walls moving back and forth, small figurines on the shelves changing color others dancing in front of your eye lids. Your head ached, pain banging against your skull, gnawing at the nerve endings that sent panic infused messages across your body, screaming: Stop moving!

“Oh so you want to spar? Go on then, show me what you have,” Geto purred.

It was a pathetic attempt in your current state. Your feet took you towards the door that Geto had come to protect. Hands and feet clashed together in close combat as you drew your cursed energy that was flickering unevenly in your body. Every time you got too close to escaping either Geto or Gojo kicked you further away.

The white haired bastard wasn’t even using his infinity which only added salt to your wounds. He deliberately chose to prance around you, letting you at times touch him a wild smile on his face. There was no cursed energy, no flashy techniques, just you and two overpowered men.

“Do you remember what they said in school when facing someone stronger than you?” Gojo asked, dodging your fist.

“Don’t be a hero,” Geto grabbed your arm and twisted it painfully behind you. “Contact someone better equipped to handle it,” he said and shoved you forwards with a force so great that you staggered towards Gojo’s table with the MacBook wobbling with force earning a “Hey, that’s my computer!” protest from the man himself.

The lights went out with a sound of shattering glass, leaving the three of you enveloped in the darkness, only city lights illuminating the room. Disorientated by the sudden change in environment you froze, breathing heavily as the two men practically surrounded you. Gojo appeared in front of you not a hair out of place.

“And with that, you’re dead. You really should not get distracted during training,” the white haired man shared his advice talking to you with the same tone he used on his pupils. “Truce?” He offered his hand.

You looked up. There was something sinister about the way they hovered over you. Geto’s beautiful prince-like features had turned harsh and angular, the shadows sharpening his face even more. You swallowed a bunch of bile, the effects of forcing yourself to move taking place.

“The power disparity is too big,” Geto said. He almost pitied you. You were a smart girl, you’d figure the best move soon.

You grabbed the hand bitterly. Gojo helped you up and Geto wrapped his arm around your waist when you were about to fall again.

“Careful,” he mumbled, his hand trailing underneath your shirt. His touch felt cold against your burning skin that was damp from sweat. “We wouldn’t want you to hurt yourself,” he taunted.

“Take her shirt off. I’ve waited long enough,” Gojo said impatiently, tapping his foot on the floor.

“Always so demanding,” Geto chuckled as he worked your shirt up, unclasping your bra unceremoniously, your breasts now free for the two men to ogle.

“Perfect tits,” Gojo said as he pawed at you and played with your nipples. You were completely overwhelmed and out of energy. Luckily, you did not have to stand on your own as Geto helped you to stay up his hands unzipping your jeans.

“Why me?” You squeaked your head drooping in defeat as you looked at Geto’s hand that vanished underneath your panties, your trousers still on you. Your question went unanswered.

“Satoru I think you might have been right about your theory,” You felt Geto’s smile on your neck as he referenced the earlier conversation regarding Nanami.

“Really? Is she wet?” Gojo asked curiously.

“Soaking,” Geto said as he explored your soft folds with ease. “Did fighting us make you feel better about what’s going to happen? At least you can tell your friends that you did not break easy,” Geto mumbled onto your skin pressing kisses to your neck, his hand still working on you going up and down tantalizing on your slit.

Gojo dropped to his knees pulling down the rest of your clothes. A whimper left your mouth as you shook your head powerlessly.

“Lift her leg up,” Gojo instructed. Geto slid his hand behind your right knee, lifting it up till you were wobbling on one foot as you leaned on him for support. The white haired man had his lips slightly apart as he looked in awe at the sight unfolding in front of him. His mouth was watering as Geto maneuvered his hand back to your folds, spreading them in front of Gojo’s face so that his boyfriend could take a long hard look at everything you were offering.

You saw the gears turning in Gojo’s head as his expression turned to a mischievous one. “I want her to sit on my face,” he licked his lips and made his way to the bed, throwing the shirt on the floor.

“Can you move?” Geto asked as he let go of your leg, holding onto your trembling body. He tipped your head towards him, his face looking almost worried. It reminded you of the old times, but this was not the old Suguru. This was someone new. Twisted.

He helped you to the bed, where Gojo had been waiting, completely naked, his chest heaving in anticipation. Your eyes scanned him from head to toe, stopping at his cock that had already started to curve upwards. It already looked big, bigger than anything you had ever taken.

“Like what you see baby? Cause me too,” Gojo said jokingly. “Well, come here then or do you want to fuck us dry? Because I’m fine with that,” he hurried you, the threat looming over you.

You climbed on top of him, saddling his face. Gojo’s hands immediately grabbed at your ass, pulling you towards his mouth. You could imagine the pink tip of his tongue trying out where you were the most sensitive. He was too impatient to tease you, quickly finding the bundle of nerves that was begging for his attention. He lapped at it as obscenely wet noises filled the room. Gojo sucked on your clit and you moaned loudly, throwing your head back, a sheen layer of sweat on you.

You felt him hum into your cunt as you felt the weight shift behind you on the mattress, Geto’s hand moving on Satoru’s length, pumping it roughly.

“You see, Satoru here is a bit of a munch. He is loud during the day, but put a cock in his mouth and it works wonders at silencing him. Apparently he likes the taste of pussy too,” Geto said with a devious smile on his lips. Gojo groaned animalistically into your wet heat as the black haired man felt his own hardness straining against his boxers. It took everything in his power to not to take off his clothes and fuck you till you were cock drunk and babbling incoherently, but he had too much fun playing with you.

“How does it feel like having the strongest sorcerer lapping you up like a regular man?” Geto’s voice was just a hush in your ear. “Men and women around the globe are going to be jealous when they hear that Gojo Satoru wanted to stick his dick in you,” Geto taunted you both as his hand focused on rotating around Satoru’s tip, spreading out the drops of precome around his cock. Satoru bucked his hips up involuntarily.

You came. Hard. You thrashed around Gojo’s head as the man between your legs held onto you stubbornly, licking and sucking through your orgasm. You felt something warm trickling straight to his face as the pressure in the lower half of your body exploded. Your voice was high pitched and desperate as you rode his face till you were sore, your already weak legs giving out.

Gojo pushed you off of him, gasping for air, pupils blown out in arousal. His face glistened in your juices and his saliva.

“You know what, for a man who’s shaming me for being talkative, you sure speak a lot yourself Suguru,” he pointed out. Suguru laughed, honest to god laughed, his eyes squinting contently as Satoru pulled him into a kiss.

There was something incredibly erotic watching the two men, knowing that Geto would taste the remnants of you as their lips smacked together messily. Their bodies tangled together, black hair flowing around white as Gojo buried his hand in Geto’s luscious strands. Gojo pulled his boyfriend’s face up gently exposing the bobbing Adam's apple that he kissed reverently. It was now Geto’s turn to saddle Gojo.

“I think you need to take your clothes off. Give her a little show,” Satoru said, biting into the skin on Suguru’s clavicle as his hands fumbled with the black haired man’s belt that opened with a clink.

Geto pulled his black t-shirt over his head, his taut muscles flexing. It felt like forever when Gojo caressed the man on top of him, his face in a constant grin. He took down the boxers inch by inch until Geto’s cock sprang out after being suppressed inside his clothes for too long.

“Get on fours,” Gojo ordered as you clumsily did what he told you to. He moved behind you whereas Geto took place in front of you.

“Arch your back.”

You stretched yourself, lowering your torso and propping your butt up almost as if you were offering yourself on a silver platter. Gojo’s hand came down to your ass with force making your body jerk when he dug his nails on the soft skin.

“Wow, you must fuck a lot of dudes judging by how low you can go. If I knew you were a whore, I would have bent you over earlier,” he laughed, his finger prodding on your entrance.

Geto pulled you from your hair. It wasn’t the nice kind of pain that came when one would grab them near the scalp; instead it stung like hell, when Geto yanked your head up, putting you on the perfect level of his cock.

Gojo inserted one finger simultaneously inside you and almost immediately added another. You whined as his fingers scissored you open, your lips almost touching the head of Geto.

“You know, I get to lie with this amazing man every day. Show him the same respect as I do,” Gojo said. Had you not been caught up in their fucked up power play, their love for each other would have truly warmed your heart.

Geto’s thumb stroked your cheek as if to apologize for what was about to happen. He let his hand trail down to your bottom lip, swiping across it gently.

“Open.”

Satoru pushed his hand almost knuckles deep into you, a guttural moan making its escape from your lips as he used his hand to finger fuck you. Geto used your opening mouth to his advantage to stuff his cock in you. He was huge, your jaw already hurting. His tangy taste spreaded in your mouth as he softly rocked back and forth, not wanting to choke you just yet.

You hollowed out your cheeks and focused on the tip of his cock as you used one of your hands to touch what you could not fit. Geto’s eyes were half lidded as he guided your head to a rhythm that he liked as you squirmed underneath Gojo’s touch.

Gojo removed his hand from you leaving you empty, you almost missed the sensation of him, but soon felt the man behind you poking your folds with something much bigger than his fingers. You mewled in panic when he entered you, your eyes widening in shock. God he was huge.

“Focus. Eyes up here,” Geto said, patting your cheek with an open palm. The way you looked up at him made Suguru feel close to high, your pupils widened to the size of a plate, eyes glistening in tears that you held back, still holding onto a sliver of pride. Brave girl, he thought to himself.

Gojo fucked you sloppily, squelching, slapping and your gurgling filling the room as both the men used your body to chase their own highs. You felt like you were drowning and when one withdrew the other one rammed into you without a second thought. It was hard to keep your attention on Geto when his boyfriend did everything in his power to make your task at hand challenging, when his long cock grazed upon that one spot inside you from time to time.

“I’m going to finish in your mouth,” Geto was out of breath, his grip tightened around your skull. Gojo groaned behind you with his fingers digging into your hips. You were sure that you’d have handprints tattooed on your skin by the end of this night.

Geto’s movement got erratic, his cock hitting the back of your throat making you gag around him painfully. The black haired man relished in the wet warmth your mouth provided him. He was panting as pleasure coursed through him, your despaired moans only driving him further. Hot stripes of his come coated your mouth. You wanted to spit it out, or swallow it, anything to get rid of it as your face soured in disgust.

“Keep it in your mouth,” he advised as he pulled out of you. You almost wanted to spit it on his face as an act of defiance. Geto smiled at the confrontational look on your face as if he knew what you were thinking. “Good girl,” he purred when you had decided not to go against him.

Gojo flipped you quickly around to lie on your back, your legs floating in the air awkwardly as he entered back into you swiftly. He pulled you in a feverish kiss, his soft lips slightly swollen. His tongue prodded inside your mouth, Suguru’s come spreading into his mouth as you explored each other. It felt disgusting, playing with someone’s fluids like this, but somehow it made your cunt clench around your white haired high school friend.

There was something deeply primal in the way Gojo drove into you, his head almost resting on yours as he fucked you deep and hard. You were vaguely aware of Geto’s eyes following the act in front of him, admiring the way Satoru’s muscles moved with every move, drinking up the disheveled look on you.

Satoru’s hips came to halt as he plastered his seed on your walls, making sure that he wasn’t too deep, keeping his thrusts shallow enough so he could see him leaking out of your used cunt.

“Fuck,” he breathed out, spent, the after glow warming him. “You didn’t come right?” He asked you, feeling slightly tired.

“No, but it doesn’t matter,” you rasped out your throat feeling hoarse after the abuse it had taken. Frankly you wanted to sleep as well.

“Suguru, can you help her out? I want to watch,” Gojo said as he fluffed the pillow underneath him to get into a comfortable position as if he was about to open the television and watch his favorite show.

“If you hold onto her other leg,” he said as he propped your left leg around his waist and Gojo took hold of your right one. You were helpless and unable to protect yourself when you tried to squirm away from the two devious men.

Geto’s nimble fingers gathered up Satoru’s come that was trickling down between your cheeks. He pushed it back inside you, moving his fingers slowly without a hurry in the world. It reminded you of the calm before a storm.

“You’re going to give us one more right?” Geto’s voice was reassured when he added another finger into you, thumb trailing to your sensitive clit. He knew just what to do, to get you fast back to the edge that you were teetering on earlier, already feeling overstimulated from the rough treatment you had gotten. His fingers made a come-hither movement hitting precisely your g-spot.

Gojo held onto you whispering sweet nothings to your ear, his thumb caressing your thigh. He was gentle, his touch light, eyes half lidded as he enjoyed the small whimpers coming from your mouth. He spoke to you, told you how much he had wanted you from the beginning. He spoke of how he saw that you wanted him – them. Gojo let you know how well you were doing, taking what they dished out to you, how you were brave and oh so good. He attempted to bury you in his twisted love, six feet underground, anxiety and arousal covering Geto’s fingers.

It was too overwhelming. Gojo next to you, Geto between your legs, your world still spinning around you, overstimulating touch and a coil about to snap. You wailed hollowly as you came apart on Suguru’s fingers one last time.

***

It was deep in the night, around two AM to be precise. You had shot your eyes open as the wave of nausea hit you. The two men had fallen asleep cuddling each other, limbs tangled on each other. You got up as quickly as you could, your head ache punishing you from your choices, stomach churning dangerously.

With a pitter patter from your naked feet, you carried yourself to the extravagant bathroom, barely having time to put the lights on as your nausea took over.

You doubled over the toilet seat, emptying your stomach of your earlier dinner and whatever else your friends had slipped in your drink. You held onto your hair desperately trying not to make a mess. A warm hand landed on your fist bunching up the rest of your hair gently.

“It’s okay. I’m here,” Suguru said affectionately, stroking your head. “Let it all out. You’re going to feel better soon.”

The acidic taste filled your mouth once again as if it was reacting to Suguru’s company. Your body forced you to throw up stomach fluids after having nothing else in it.

The way he took care of you brought up memories of the times you had taken one too many drinks, after your partner of that time had broken up with you. You remembered the way he had held you crying, snot and tears covering his shirt as you broke down.

The sound of water pouring into a glass echoed on the walls and you heard the rattle of an ice drawer disturbing the silence.

“You should drink this,” Satoru showed up leaning on the door frame, offering the glass to you. You hesitated.

“It’s just water.” He said and took a sip as if it would prove you anything. “See?”

You grabbed it from his hand, when you decided that you didn’t care anymore, downing the entire glass in almost one swing. The cold scraped your tender throat punishingly. You should have drank more slowly.

Waking up after the night had turned to day, the windows no longer covered by the blinds. You did not remember a lot of the act, except vomiting, but that came afterwards. The city was already moving fast, a new day offering new opportunities and new exciting journeys.

You felt physically a lot better, still weird, but you no longer felt like collapsing to the ground nor did you see things twice. It was almost like you had a hangover. You looked around Gojo’s room rolling on the bed that was empty feeling relieved of having space.

There were still signs of yesterday's fighting, but random shards had been taken care of and the lightbulb changed into a working one. You had your own pajamas on you, not having the slightest idea when and how you got into your clothes. Feeling nervous you got out of the bedroom walking to the toilet to empty your bladder. As you wiped, you felt around your crotch, searching for the remainder of different body fluids. You had cleaned yourself up. Or someone had.

You washed your hands, scrubbing them together with fervor, pumping out a heap of soap on your palm.

You repeated it once.

Twice.

Until your skin was scrubbed dry.

You looked at yourself in the mirror just to see familiar features, but not anyone you could recognize. You opened the overnight bag that you had left on the side of the sink to brush your teeth and spit out the foaming toothpaste. A smell of dough frying on the pan wafted to your nose as you heard commotion from the kitchen.

You took steps to the living room to find Suguru in front of the stove flipping pancakes as Satoru was hunched over a pile of strawberries nibbling on them happily. Upbeat rock played in the background as the two men joked around and chatted. You stared at them, something seething in you.

“Good morning! We’re making brunch,” Suguru exclaimed as he flipped a pancake over “Do you want coffee or tea?”

Nails bit into your skin as you clenched your fists together hard, your knuckles turning to white as anger turned on like a switch. You wanted to rage, go absolutely berserker, throw things at them, scream how dare you over and over. Some part of you also wanted to forget the night, pretend that it’s a nightmare, sit down with them to eat some fucking brunch.

“What if I tell someone,” it wasn’t really a question that you wanted them to answer.

“And what would you achieve with that?” Gojo retorted, popping a ridiculously big strawberry in his mouth, leaving the green stem outside as he bit down, the trash floating to the table.

Suguru placed the now ready pancake onto the white plate. He grabbed the black ladle to pour more mixture on the warm pan, before he started speaking calm but collected. It was this matter of fact tone that he used as if he was disappointed in your stupidity since he was always speaking the truth. The audacity of men or something like that.

“You know first hand how some clans look down on women, not believing that women should be sorcerers in the first place. So how do you think these powerful people are going to react to you saying that two of the strongest sorcerers assaulted you?” He mused, the conversation reminding you of ethics class where people discussed your human rights as a starter dish, completely disregarding that they were talking about real lives.

You knew how those types of people would react. They would see it only as normal, a woman’s place as a breeding machine, your sorcerer blood and womb more precious than your soul. They would argue that you were lucky or maybe that you had asked for it. Besides, it wasn’t exactly atypical of people in your line of work going insane, the trail of dead comrades keeping one up for countless nights. And who better to take anger out on than the people who are perceived as less.

“Even if they did believe you, it wouldn’t change our life at all. They need our skills and well, his money,” Suguru continued as Satoru grabbed three coffee cups and placed them on the kitchen island. As if, you were staying. “It would change yours though.”

That’s when realization hit you. They were the type of evil that were completely aware of their sins. They knew exactly what was right and wrong, but they simply did not care, the world as their oyster.

“You’re insane,” a tear rolled down your eye, your body trembling like a leaf.

“Not denying that one,” Satoru quipped, not taking anything serious like usual.

“If you want to, you can leave. You are free to run your mouth however you want, block our numbers, whatever makes you sleep better. Or you can eat some pancakes as friends and have powerful allies for the rest of your life,” Geto said. “I’ll ask again, coffee or tea?”

You bit your lip as the conflicted emotions flashed through your face. You despised that you viewed them still as your friends as much as your enemies. It was weird to love someone who had hurt you in one of the most violating ways possible.

“Coffee,” you mumbled as you sat down on the bar stool hanging your hands on your sides as Suguru poured the dark liquid on the blue cup.

“We got you Plan B too,” Satoru said, throwing the cardboard box into your hands. “You should take it. I’m not ready to be a father,” he added.

You fumbled the package open, popping out the small pill on your hand. You didn’t know how they knew that you weren’t on birth control nor did you really care. You placed the tablet on your tongue taking generous gulps of water as the couple continued on cooking.

Music played as the sun shone brighter, lighting up the whole kitchen, furniture basking up in the natural glow. You ate in peace, mainly Satoru and Suguru talking together but every once in a while you added something in the conversation. You fell quickly back to the old habits, maybe at times chuckling at their stupid jokes.

You pushed away the night. You tucked it in a corner of your mind that you did not dare to look at for many weeks to come. You were just three old high school buddies catching up, nothing more. The flashbacks you saw were not yours and the long weekend continued on as a happy sleep over.

[serendipitous-girl]

𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒍 𝒓𝒆𝒄��𝒈𝒏𝒊𝒛𝒆𝒔 𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒍

⊱✿⊰ summary: headcanons with bakugo and a black cat girl

⊱✿⊰ warnings: swearing, suggestive comments, fighting ig, idrk

⊱✿⊰ notes: i have had this request for like fifteen months lol but im finally doing it for my pookie's bday. Happy birthday ml 🫶 im posting it now so i dont forget lol

❀ he hates you at first sorry not sorry. bakugo just sees you as yet another one of those extras who happen to have an annoying tendency to fight with him. i feel like he might respect your tenacity but barely and he still hates your guts whoops

❀ on the topic of hatred, your other classmates half are jokingly shipping you and the other half are just wishing you two would stop fighting. mina is at the head of the shipping bandwagon especially after she read a book with rivals to lovers. todoroki might say he ships you guys only because he thinks it means he wants you two to get along lol

❀ your arguments would mostly be stupid shit like who rescued who, who did better on the assignment. you guys are rivals who also get into fistfights because why not.

❀ bakugo doesn't think much of your swearing problem because he's used to it by his mom. you're just another annoying person who happens to like using some naughty words all the time (him in girl form)

❀ i feel like the way you two get closer is kinda sad but also drama yay. basically mineta was being an S-class pervert and he was literally harassing you.

❀ and it made you uncomfortable so you started to fight back. bakugo doesn't find you until the aftermath, huddled in the corner of the dorm while trying to hide your tears

❀ he didn't know seeing someone cry could make his heart clench like that. But for some reason, seeing you all teary eyed and sad made him want to punch the living daylights out of whoever made you like that

❀ as awkwardly as he can, he tries to comfort you. His large hand patting your back, not saying anything since words have never been his forte. He was used to using anger to battle his sadness, he didn't know how to help someone succumb to it.

❀ you guys sit there in comfortable silence until you explain to bakugo what happened. he'd always hated the little brat but now he was wishing he had uraraka's powers so he could throw mineta into space. how was the creep still in the hero course?

❀ lets just say the nice day mineta looked more like a cranberry than a grape

❀ you guys aren't particularly close after that but he does tend to notice you more which means his respect for you goes up. you're in combat training and you beat deku? fuck yeah he likes you now. even if you don't hate deku like he does he still thought it was awesome seeing you beat the daylights out of him.

❀ the moment he realized he liked you was when he almost lost you. by now hanging out was pretty regular for the two of you, even if bakugo would rather die than admit that he sees you as a friend. and since you guys spent time together he was around for whenever you got crushes...and told him about it.

❀ most of the time he would shrug it off, especially since half of your crushes were fictional and why would he care? he's not jealous! however you started falling for a boy in class 2b which (for some reason) was a major no go for bakugo. why would you want to date a stupid extra when he was right in front of you

❀ despite what everyone says he isn't the most emotionally constipated. it takes awhile yeah but i imagine he started going to therapy during the course of the show so he started to understand what feelings went where and etc

and one thing was for certain: this feeling was love.

❀ he started being a massive asshole after that. he went right back to always arguing with you or ignoring you completely. he might understand his feelings but that doesn't mean he knows how to handle them

❀ he was so wrapped up in his angry emoness that he didn't know you had stopped talking to the boy from class 2b, forgetting him entirely. he also failed to notice the hurt looks you'd give bakugo before you snapped right back into your harsh comebacks.

❀ the reason you guys even talk it out is during a simulation where the both of you get stuck inside rubble. you were both exhausted, dehydrated, and heartbroken.

❀ you just couldn't help but ask, "why do you hate me?" which basically broke his heart into a million little pieces. he couldn't help the way he admitted to his feelings, the way he handed you his heart in hopes you'd keep it safe...and safe you did.

❀ if you two as rivals were bad you two dating is even worse. you guys are the ultimate power couple, able to tear anybody down with a few well placed sneers and snorts.

❀ everybody either loves or hates you guys. mina obviously loves you guys even if you two are constantly arguing still plus with the added of you two tag teaming one person. she loves when she manifests things.

❀ you guys still have that silly banter and with your tempers. but now you guys made up your arguments with kisses and cuddles

❀ you guys aren't allowed to get paired together for assignments because you are either bickering or making out. and aizawa is too tired to try to stop it.

lori © 2024. please don't copy, modify, or do anything weird with my writing! i like reblogs and comments but please be kind as this was my writing.

[spellboundtales]

FIC REC - the Wolverine

had to make this, because my obsession with this man is unbelievable

🩰 hurt/comfort

🧸Fluff

🦋angst

🌺smut

🩰🧸🌺This is Ours by @d1stalker || reader spends the summer at her grandparent's farm but they hired a new farmhand: Logan. slowburn and feelings arise!! when i tell you this was one of my fav fics EVER.....

🧸a little redecorating by @halohalona || reader in the middle of the night decides to rearrange the living room, Logan helps her. very domesticc and fluffy, this melt my heart

🩰🧸say yes to heaven by @happy74827 || Grumpy!Logan x Sunshsine!Reader OMG when i tell you I CRIED AND MY HEART WAS HEALED reading this....

🩰🧸🌺ice breaker by @happy74827 || Logan saves reader's life, the aftermath results in a lot of feelings and...getting really warm. I ADORED THIS

🩰🧸snapdragons mean i'm sorry by @thebestandworstdayofjune || reader owns a flowershop and is friend with Wade and Logan, everything's great until reader hears Logan saying something...

🌺GUILTY PLEASURE by @joelsgoldrush || bartender!reader meets worst!Logan. guys when i tell you this is amazing...

🦋🩰🌺GIVE ME THE FIRST TASTE BY @joelsgoldrush || sequel to Guilty pleasure, just perfect.

🩰🌺Nothing's Gonna Hurt You Baby by @imaginedisish || Logan's alwaye being friendly with reader...maybe there's more than some friendly gestures...?

🩰Breathless by @i5uckersblog || Reader has a sudden health scare and Logan is there to help. I LOVED THIS

🧸the kids waking you up in the morning by @fandomxo00 || this healed me.

🧸holding hands with Logan by @ohtobeleah || this is so short and sweet, i cried

🧸this headcanon by @witchyy-kittyy ||it's just pure fluff with a bf!Logan

🧸pretty in pink by @starkwlkr || so sweet dad!Logan for his daughter's birthday party. guess what? i cried reading this

🧸it's a gift (you keep those) by @celestiamour ||giving Logan a plushie that reminds you of him. THIS IS SO SWEET DRDXCFGVBHJG

🩰🧸Logan meeting reader's parents by @boltwrites || Logan meets reader's parents...what will happen?

🧸just the two of us by @starkwlkr || some domestic Logan, very sweet

🌺Inside Out by @@imaginedisish || post intense battle with Logan...this had me on my knees

🌺Lover, you should've come over by @imaginedisish || pining after Logan with the convinction he's obsessed with Jean..or maybe he's not?

🩰🧸🌺Time After Time by @hyper-fixates || 4 times reader is in Logan's bed plus 1 time he finally goes for it

🌺What's That Smell? by @slushycoookie || Wade meddling with Reader and Logan's sexual life..also wade gifting reader Pheromone Perfume and Logan losing it

🌺Honey - Honey II - Honey III by @bpmiranda || Sunshine!readerr with smalla town reclusse!Logan...omg this short series had me squeaking and giggling...toe curling smut.

🦋🩰🌺Keep Up! by @iggyywrites || neighbour!Reader is friend with Wade... with a huge crush on Logan. this is a rollercoaster of emotions i sweare i loved every single word. also the wade's characterization? chef kiss

🌺older by @lostalioth || reader calls Logan old, and he's determined to show her he's not

🦋🩰🌺from eden by @eupheme || old man logan x mutant!reader...this is just...perfect. read it.

🦋🩰🌺never is a promise by @joelsgoldrush || old man logan x charles' caretaker reader. slow burn, misunderstadings, smut...OMYGOD THIS!!!

🌺the Devil and I by @mystra-midnight || this is an hymn to smut.

🩰🧸taste by @poorly-written-fiction || ex boyfriend logan??? he's with jean but his kisses taste like...you... GOD THIS!!

🧸Magnetic by @reddesires || does magnets stick on Wolverine? let's find out! this is so funny i swear-

🌺burning slow by @eupheme || this is a logan x inexperienced reader this is so sweet, i need him now.

🩰🌺loving him was never enough by @wyniepooh || cagefighter!Logan? sign me up.

🩰🌺shouldn't have by @atrwriting || reader has a really shitty boyfriend, thank god Logan saves the day (in more ways than one)

🩰second nature by @d1stalker || reader is saved by Logan who then takes her in. feelings arise, but so will misunderstandings.

🧸Suspension Bridge Effect by @d1stalker || reader saves another mutant who now is in love with her...Logan is slightly jealous

🌺Marks by @bpmiranda || reader is running away from Sabertooth, and Logan helps her out... the smut here....chills

🩰🌺sweet like honey by @bruhstories || baker reader and Logan saving her...he likes to go to his favorite bar that happens to be across reader's bakery

alright lovelies, my wolverine's obssession is not over so i'll prob update thisss (also i still need to read some Old Man Logan fics.. soo i'll keep you update)

have a loooovely day, week, month, year💐🌷

kisses😽😽😽

[random-fandom1984]

Can I have some g1 soundwave x reader please😅😅😅😅😅

Being the only femme Cybertronian on the Ark can be... something. Especially when some of them try hitting on you without getting to know you; quite annoying really, but you keep it pushed down; but some people can tell because of your alt-mode.

You stayed in the Ark because of your job as a medic. Your alt-mode is a heartbeat monitor, which also corresponds with your sparkbeats, which is how some people, very few, can tell what you're feeling.

You made your own little base of operations under an abandoned amusement park. You'd bring in people who were injured and left behind in the ruckus of the battlefield between the two factions. Human or Decepticon.

Whenever it's a human, you'd ask them to promise to not tell your Autobot friends about your place of escape, and they do. But with Decepticons, you make sure that they are knocked out, and you just give them a few amounts of anesthesia because they would break in, destroy the place, kidnap you and hold you for ransom against your friends.

One day, when looking through one of the many aftermaths of a battle, you found a minicon in the rubble, Soundwave's minicon: Frenzy. When you took him back to your base, you realized you've forgotten to stock up on more anesthesia, so now you have to worry with the fact that he might wake up soon as you did the procedure of fix-and-repair.

As you were putting your tools away, he woke up with a fright, and you quickly explained the situation to him, which slightly calmed him down. Key word: Slightly. He was suspicious of you but is slowly diminished as you continued to work on the minor injuries that just need a new paint job and be buffed. The last bit disappeared in an instant when you gave him an Energon Goodie.

When he came by again, to your surprise that he remembered the way here, you gave a tour of the place above, he somehow managed to get the place up and running again; thank Primus that your location was miles away from the nearest civilization.

As time went by, Rumble found out, then Ravage, then Laserbeak. When they come to visit, it would be like as if there was no war, they're having a good time in the amusement park.

Sooner or later, Soundwave got suspicious. Where were his kids minicons going late at night?

Being the best spy he is, he followed them, and was surprised that they were hanging out with an Autobot, weren't fighting like there was a war, stopping a fight between Rumble and Frenzy as calm as possible- and somehow easily get them to make up?! He couldn't do that without them continuing to squabble with each other.

He used his telepathy powers to look into your thoughts to see if you secretly had ill intentions with his sons minicons, but there wasn't any!

When his minicons return back to base, it's an instant interrogation the moment they step foot back in the habsuite: How long has this been going on? How did this happen in the first place? What do she always do with them? The only questions that were about you were answered back with positivity.

Curious, he decided to look more into your file when the Decepticons fight the Autobots near the Ark. When he does, all he finds is all good things.

When it was the next time they decided to visit, he wanted to meet her in person. And so he did, and by Primus were you nervous. You were worried he might blow your helm up. You, Soundwave, and his minicons walked through the park, watching the minicons play games, ride the rides; he began to trust you.

The more you all hang out in private, at your secret location, the more you begin to bond closer together, mainly you and Soundwave; the minicons noticed it as clear as day.

So, being mischievous little ones they are, Rumble and Frenzy decided to stage a lil' something. In private, the minicons would call Soundwave Sire, or dad in human terms. So, when the next time you and they met up, they would unexpectedly drop Carrier, mom, at random times in the night. When they first did it, they'd put on an act like as if they didn't mean to say it and it just slip. You fell for their act, so did Soundwave because it was unexpected.

They see you? An Autobot medic? As a parental figure? I mean, sure, you heal up their injuries, you give them Energon sweets if they be good and behave, calmly deal with their fights, gives them sweet head pats, have the most caring optics he's seen, the most beautiful smile- Oh, scrap! He's in love.

He would lie awake at night, questioning why he found you attractive. For starters, your gently touch that he felt when you repaired him, your smiles seem to shine brighter than any star, and sound from your vocalizer was like a siren's call and he was the sailor that was lured by its enchanting melody, your optics the prettiest shade of blue that rivals with this hunk of rock's sky, have the spirit of a Carrier with his kids- Primus, he was hooked, lined and had sunk deep.

After he came to terms with his newfound emotions, he started noticing something about you. Every single time he was close to you, he'd see the screen of your alt-mode, on your chassis, start getting taller. One time, he danced with you as music played in the park, and he saw that the big spikes became frequent, and a subtle blush would be on your cheek plates that you try to hide with your servo and turning your helm to the side. He found this adorable, so much that he became addicted to having that cute blush on your face.

When back on the Ark, you would get pings from an unknown comm-link number, only to realize it's Soundwave, and he's sending you something. When you are finally alone in your habsuite, you would take a look to see that they were poems; they were so sweet, you reread them, laying on your berth, kicking your feet as you excitedly giggle from how nice, sweet, and adorable they are that they might as well be invitations for Cupid to continue to shoot arrows into your spark, making you fall harder for the Con.

When they spent the night in your secret base, you all had fun doing any activity that comes to mind: pillow/blanket forts, teaching the little ones the steps on how you make your glorious Energon Goodies, etc. The last activity was a horror movie marathon. Every time a jump scare would pop up on the screen, you would hug the closest bot, and it just so happened to be Soundwave. During the horror movie marathon, you, Soundwave, and his kids ended up in a cuddle pile, scared, all but Soundwave, Ravage, and Laserbeak.

They decided to spend the night here before returning to the Decepticon base at the break of dawn. You decided to put the little ones to sleep. He decided to start cleaning up the mess that was made, and when he finished, he came back to you telling the ending of an old Cybertron bedtime story.

To him, it looked so nice and peaceful, and you looked so motherly that he just wanted to confess right there, right now. What sealed the deal was you placing a goodnight kiss on the top of their helms, tucking them to sleep before leaving the room they were occupying, only to be dragged off to somewhere by Soundwave, into the place you slept in from time-to-time.

You wondered what was happening, until Soundwave got on one knee plate, servos holding your own, visor looking up into your optics, glistening as he let out a very poetic, charming, delightful, exquisite of him telling you about his feelings, everything about you that made his spark soar: your voice, your optics, your touch, everything.

He carefully watched the screen on you chassis to see if there was any indication of making you uncomfortable or not. And by the end of his heartfelt confession, he watched the heart monitor didn't make any giant spikes. Oh, no. It made a heart at the center of the monitor as blush covers your entire faceplate.

Part 2 coming soon!

[errorwarblesrr]

Man, I really love the Wind Waker Ganondorf fight. It feels different from other fights in the series in the sense that you aren't fighting to save a kingdom or the princess. Sure, Link went in that tower to get Tetra back and stop Ganondorf, but when the fight happens, that isn't why they are fighting anymore.

Tetra is already there with Link, and Ganondorf had already lost; Daphnes stole his wish. Ganondorf has lost everything, and now the only thing he desires is to take Link and Tetra down with him as the hope for the future he wanted was given to them.

A fight you go into expecting to be one to save a friend and stop the villain became nothing more than a battle of survival. The waters of the great sea are crashing down as it is to kill or be killed.

Throughout the whole journey, Link and Tetra both struggled against Ganondorf. The first visit to the forsaken fortress he throws Link into the sea to drown. The second time, he knocks Link down and is about to strike him down with his blade, Tetra just barely coming in to save Link on time, and even then, they're both not strong enough. Finally, in Ganon's tower, after going through Ganondorf's trials without even getting a chance to fight him, this man straight up beats this small child and steals his triforce. Every confrontation with this man has gone wrong, and yet it's now or ever because if they lose, they will die, and no one is there to save them this time.

The battle theme is intense. It really is two very small children fighting this huge man, but just as they're the hope of the future every once in a while, the great seas theme will play as if there is a gleam of hope. That they can make it out alive.

However, even then when they do win, it isn't a triumphant one. Anytime Link has beaten a boss in the game, he is overjoyed and ecstatic. He is jumping up and down as he slayed the monster. He won.

Yet for Ganondorf, this is his reaction for killing a man.

He looks to be in disbelief, frightened even. Whatever he is feeling, it sure isn't a good one. How could he feel good about this? One thing is for sure is that he is exhausted, and he almost passes out then and there, with Tetra needing to catch him.

I just love everything about this fight. From the music and setting to the aftermath and why you're fighting him. You're not fighting to win or save the day. You're simply fighting to live.

[dee-writes-anime]

I'm Here, I'm Always Here

FEATURING Shoto Todoroki x Reader

SUMMARY Shoto can't take it anymore, good thing you are always willing to take good care of your icyhot sweetheart.

CONTENT WARNINGS fluff, Shoto being taken care of like he deserves, an excuse for me to wash my boys hair T-T, hurt/comfort, Shoto needs a hug PLEASE HUG HIM OML

AUTHORS NOTE this is not the BakuDeku slow burn that I've been working on the past week, unfortunately. I promise I am still working on it, it's just a BEAST of a fic and I am still not done writing it. So, instead of continuing in my silence, I decided to share this Shoto fic I've been sitting on for a FAT minute. <3

“You’ve worked so hard, love,” you breathed, pressing a soft kiss to his wet forehead. “So, so hard.” 

Shoto Todoroki is sitting on the floor of your shower, curled into himself, trembling violently. His knees are drawn tight against his chest, and his head is buried deep between his crossed arms, tucked into the wet skin of his legs. The water pounds mercilessly on his back, scalding hot, the sound of it a steady hiss against the tile as steam swirls like smoke in the air. It clings to the room in suffocating waves, thick enough to feel like it’s pressing down on him, drowning him with every strained breath. The water pelts his cold skin, too hot and too harsh, but he doesn’t move. He just rocks slowly, back and forth, shaking with each shallow inhale. 

You hadn't been home, hadn’t heard the news. You were a world away, caught in the aftermath of a grueling mission in Indonesia, helping local heroes dismantle a quirk-empowered sex trafficking ring. You hadn’t known what had gone down between Shoto and the villain he fought today. You hadn’t known he’d be fighting for his life while you were halfway across the world, in a place that had felt so beautiful, so serene in comparison to what he must have gone through. 

While you’d been basking in the warm Indonesian sun, calling him every night to talk, laugh, share silly stories, Shoto had been here, battling something far darker than either of you could have anticipated. You would stay on the phone with him for hours, sometimes dozing off mid-conversation, your voices filling the quiet voids of each other’s days. But today, today you hadn’t been able to answer. 

You’d been on a plane, finally heading home after days of tension and exhaustion. The mission was done; you had succeeded in catching the ring leaders, and the police were making their arrests. But it wasn’t over for Shoto. 

He had stayed at your apartment while you were gone, taking care of Mr. Wellbottom, your moody, gray tabby. Shoto had taken the task without hesitation, even though you’d thanked him a thousand times, feeling guilty for asking him to go out of his way. But Shoto had only smiled, brushing off your offers of repayment, telling you it was no trouble at all. The truth, however, was that Shoto preferred it here. Your apartment, small and cluttered as it was, was warm—unlike the empty coldness of his own space. Here, everything smelled like you—soft, comforting, familiar. He’d found himself sinking into the warmth of it, into the messy piles of books, your worn-out blankets, and even the prickly affection of Mr. Wellbottom. 

Because here, in your space, Shoto could pretend, just for a little while, that he was more than just your close friend. More than just the boy who kept you company and helped take care of your cat. Here, he could pretend he belonged. 

But today, the weight of everything had become too much, and all the warmth of your apartment, of your affection, couldn’t hold back the storm brewing inside him. He loved you more than anything in the world, more than he could ever say, which was why he had resigned himself to being just this—just your closest friend. Because losing you, risking what you had by asking for more, was something he couldn’t bear. So, he stayed quiet, enduring, grateful for whatever piece of you he could keep. 

The villain Shoto had fought today was unlike any other—someone who could take the deepest, darkest corners of a person's mind and twist them until reality blurred into something grotesque. He wasn’t a stranger to this villain, not after the many run-ins he’d had in his relentless hunt to stop him. Shoto had endured before, forced to relive the bitter memories of his father, the abuse, the cruelty that had shaped so much of his childhood. And then, as if that weren’t enough, the villain had dredged up the image of his brother—his death, and later, the painful fight against him. But even those memories, awful as they were, Shoto had withstood. 

Today, however, had been different. 

This time, the villain had reached deeper, pulling on a thread of Shoto’s mind that was too precious to tamper with. He had taken you. The memory of your warmth, your laughter, your soft presence that had become Shoto’s solace—and twisted it into something horrific. 

In the vision the villain conjured, Shoto found himself standing in your small, familiar kitchen. The tiled floor beneath him, a dull, faded yellowish hue, felt so real. Too real. And there, lying crumpled on the ground, was you. Blood—thick and horrifyingly red—leaked from a deep gash in your abdomen, pooling on the floor and staining the tiles beneath you. Shoto's heart pounded in his chest, his breath coming in ragged gasps as he dropped to his knees beside you. His hands, shaking uncontrollably, grabbed the first thing he could find—the knit blanket you always draped across the back of the couch. The same one he had used just days before to coax Mr. Wellbottom into curling up with him for a late-night picture. 

But now, that blanket was being pressed against your wound, its soft cream fabric soaking through with the vivid, sickening color of your blood. The warmth that had once been your safety net, the thing that reminded him of you every time he wrapped it around himself, was now drenched in the memory of your loss. 

The image wouldn’t leave him. 

No matter how much he blinked, no matter how hard he tried to force himself back into reality, the memory the villain had warped stuck in his mind like a jagged shard of glass. He could still see your lifeless form, still feel the weight of the blood-soaked blanket in his trembling hands. It was too vivid. Too visceral. 

The villain knew exactly what he was doing, attacking Shoto’s weakest point. He had toyed with Shoto's mind, playing his memories like a puppet on strings, twisting them until every bit of hope, every ounce of warmth, turned to something grotesque. You were Shoto’s anchor, the light in the darkness of his life, and to turn that into something filled with blood and pain—that had broken him in ways nothing else ever had. 

When Shoto had finally snapped out of it, it had been too late. The villain was gone, disappeared into the chaos, and Shoto was left kneeling on the ground in the middle of the battlefield, still shaking from the aftershocks of the warped vision. His teammates had tried to help him, tried to call out to him, but he couldn’t hear anything but the sound of your blood dripping onto the cold kitchen floor. He could feel his own heart hammering against his ribs, threatening to tear itself apart from the inside. 

And now here he was, in your shower, trying and failing to wash the memory away. He had come back to your apartment because it was the only place that felt remotely safe, remotely real. But even here, surrounded by the things that usually comforted him, he couldn’t escape it. The scalding water beat down on his back, punishing him, as if he could burn the image out of his mind. But nothing helped. Nothing could erase the sight of your body, limp in his arms, as the life drained out of you in that twisted vision. 

When he heard your soft voice, it was as though the world tilted back into focus for the first time since the nightmare began. It started with a gentle gasp, a sound so quiet he might’ve missed it if he weren’t so desperate to hear something real. Then came the hurried footsteps, the soft padding of your feet against the floor growing louder as you rushed toward the bathroom. The water stopped abruptly, the harsh, scalding heat suddenly replaced by the cool air around him, and then—your hands. Your hands, warm and steady, were threading through his soaked hair, each stroke slow and deliberate, as though grounding him back into the present. 

But Shoto flinched at the contact, his breath catching in his throat. Was this real? Could this be another cruel trick, another illusion the villain had planted to break him further? He wasn’t sure, couldn’t be sure—not after what he had seen. 

And then he smelled it. 

Vanilla and cashmere, the scent you always wore, the one Mina endlessly teased you about. That familiar, comforting fragrance filled his senses, and something deep inside him cracked open. It was you. The scar on your palm, the one from that quirk accident back in high school, scraped lightly against his skin as your fingers combed through his hair, the faintest of rough edges that confirmed it. No illusion could replicate the way your presence felt—how solid, how real it was. 

It was you. 

The dam inside him broke, and before he could stop himself, a sob tore from his throat, raw and desperate. His body moved before his mind could catch up, clinging to you, burying his face against your chest as the sobs came faster, his body wracked with tremors he could no longer suppress. Water soaked through your sweater, dampening your leggings, but you didn’t care. Your arms wrapped around him tightly, pulling him closer as you whispered soft, soothing words into his ear. 

“I’m here,” you murmured, your voice steady, grounding him. “You’re safe, Shoto. Everything’s going to be okay.” 

He could feel your heartbeat against his cheek, strong and steady, each thud an anchor that pulled him out of the nightmare and into the present. You were real. You were here, holding him close, and for the first time since the mission, the suffocating weight in his chest loosened, just a fraction, as your warmth began to chase the cold from his bones. 

After what felt like minutes—or maybe hours; he couldn’t tell—of you simply holding him, your warmth wrapped around him like a lifeline, you shifted. Slowly, you stood, your movements careful and deliberate, as if afraid to pull away too fast. You reached for the shower knob, turning the water back on, this time to a much gentler temperature. The scalding heat from before was replaced by a soothing warmth that cascaded down his back, easing the tension in his muscles. 

Without saying a word, you grabbed the bottle of shampoo from the cubby—a fancy brand you always scolded him for trying to use when he stayed over. He could almost hear your playful voice in his head, telling him he wasn’t allowed to touch the ‘good stuff.’ But now, you weren’t teasing. You were quiet, focused, as you squeezed a generous amount into your palm and began to gently massage it into his scalp. 

Your fingers moved with care, threading through his hair in slow, circular motions. Each touch was gentle, deliberate, as if you were trying to wash away more than just the dirt and grime of the day. Shoto closed his eyes, letting himself fall into the sensation, the rhythmic motion of your hands calming the storm inside him. The scent of the shampoo—familiar and soft, just like everything else about you—filled the air, wrapping him in its comforting embrace. 

You worked the shampoo into every strand, massaging his scalp until his hair was thoroughly coated in suds. Each pass of your fingers through his mismatched hair felt like a promise—unspoken, but deeply felt. You weren’t going anywhere. You were still here, taking care of him in the only way you knew how. 

And for the first time that night, as you stood there with him, washing away the pain of the day, Shoto felt like he might be able to breathe again. 

After finishing with the shampoo, your hands moved with the same careful tenderness, reaching for the conditioner. You uncapped the bottle, the familiar scent wafting into the air, and squeezed a dollop into your palm. The water flowed in a soft cascade over Shoto’s back, creating a calm, steady rhythm in the background as you worked the conditioner through his hair. 

Your fingers glided through the wet strands, smoothing them gently. As you massaged the conditioner into his scalp, your voice broke the quiet. 

“I’ve been wanting to tell you something for a long time,” you began, your voice low and soft. “I’ve been in love with you for years, Shoto.” 

The words hung in the air, blending with the sound of water pattering against the tile. Shoto didn’t react at first, still processing everything. But you didn’t stop, your fingers working through his hair with care as you continued. 

“I don’t know when it started, really. I think it was sometime in high school, maybe even before that. You were always so strong, so quiet, but… you carried so much. I remember that day during our first year, when you told us about your father. About your family. You tried so hard to stay strong, to push everything down like it didn’t matter. But I saw how much it hurt you.” 

You paused for a moment, lost in the memory. You could still see it so clearly—the way Shoto had stood there, stoic and composed, while the weight of his words hung heavy in the air. But behind those mismatched eyes, you had seen something else: the vulnerability he never let anyone else see. It had been in that moment you realized just how much you cared about him. 

“And then… we got closer. We became friends,” you said, working the conditioner into his hair with slow, careful motions. “I would stay up late thinking about how brave you were. How strong. You didn’t let the things that had happened to you define who you were, and that’s what made me fall in love with you even more.” 

Shoto remained quiet, but you could feel the way his breathing had changed—slower now, steadier. You didn’t know if he was processing your words or just lost in the comfort of the moment, but it didn’t matter. You needed to say this, even if he didn’t respond. 

“And when we graduated and became pro heroes, I thought I’d let those feelings go. I thought maybe they’d fade with time. But they didn’t. Every time I saw you fight, saw you push yourself to your limits, I’d fall a little harder. You’re so strong, Shoto. You’re so brave. Even when the world tries to break you down, you keep going.” 

You paused, your fingers stilling for a moment in his hair as you thought back to all the times you’d watched him from a distance, your heart swelling with pride and admiration. 

“Like today,” you continued, voice thick with emotion. “I don’t know what happened out there, and you don’t have to tell me if you’re not ready. But I know how strong you are. I know how hard you fight, even when things get bad. You’re the bravest person I know, Shoto.” 

Your hands moved again, gently untangling the strands of his hair as you rinsed out the conditioner. The water ran over his head, carrying the suds away, and you stood there in silence for a few moments longer, letting the weight of your words settle between you. 

And then, in a voice barely above a whisper, you leaned in close to him, your lips brushing against his damp hair. 

“You’ve worked so hard, love,” you breathed, pressing a soft kiss to his wet forehead. “So, so hard.” 

The word slipped out—love—and it felt so natural, so right, that you didn’t even hesitate. You weren’t sure if he heard it, but you didn’t care. You meant every word. Shoto had been fighting for so long, and all you wanted was for him to know how much he meant to you. How proud you were of him. 

You stood there for a while, the water continuing to run as you ran your fingers through his hair, soothing the tension that had gripped him for so long. 

As you rinsed the conditioner from his hair, the soft hiss of water filling the room, Shoto shifted slightly beneath your hands. His head tilted back just a fraction, and for the first time since you had come home, he spoke. 

His voice was barely above a whisper, fragile and hesitant, as if he were afraid the words might break the delicate moment between you. “I… I didn’t know how to tell you,” he began, his voice thick with emotion. “For so long, I’ve felt… something. I didn’t understand it at first. But every time I was with you, it was there—this warmth I couldn’t explain.” 

You kept your hands gentle, running your fingers through his hair as the water rinsed away the last traces of conditioner. The soothing rhythm of the water was a backdrop to his quiet confession. 

“I never thought I deserved you,” Shoto admitted, his voice trembling ever so slightly. “You’re always so bright, so warm. You make everything around you feel… alive. And me—I’ve always felt like I’m stuck in this cold, this distance from everyone, like I don’t belong in your world.” 

His eyes closed, the weight of his words seeming to spill out of him now that he had started. “But every time I was with you, it felt like I could finally breathe. Like maybe… maybe I wasn’t so broken after all.” 

Your fingers continued to move through his hair, slow and deliberate, each touch a silent reassurance that you were listening, that you were there. 

Shoto’s breath hitched as he leaned into your touch, letting the water stream down his face as he spoke again, more vulnerable than you had ever heard him. “I didn’t know how to tell you how much I love you. I didn’t want to risk losing you, so I stayed quiet. I thought if I could just be close to you, that would be enough. But… it never was. I wanted more. I wanted you, and it scared me.” 

His voice faltered for a moment, the weight of his confession hanging between you like the mist in the air. “I love you,” he finally whispered, barely audible over the sound of the water. “I’ve loved you for so long. I just… I didn’t know how to say it.” 

The last of the conditioner was gone now, his hair clean and smooth beneath your fingers, but you didn’t pull away. You stayed there, the water running over both of you as you cradled his head in your hands, your heart swelling with every word he spoke. 

Shoto was vulnerable in a way you had never seen before—laid bare, fragile, but so open, so raw. And it was in that moment that you realized just how much this meant to him, how much he had been holding back for all these years. 

You leaned in closer, your lips brushing against his ear as you whispered, “You don’t have to be scared anymore, Shoto. I’m here. I’ve always been here.” 

You gently tilted Shoto’s head up, brushing your thumb along his jaw as the water cascaded between you, soft and warm. His eyes fluttered open, the weight of his emotions still lingering in those mismatched irises—one like molten lava, the other like glacial ice. But now, there was something different. Something softer. Something vulnerable. 

Your heart swelled as you leaned in, closing the small gap between you. Your lips met his in a kiss so soft, so tender, it felt like you were sealing all the unspoken words and emotions between you. The kiss was slow, delicate—a moment where everything else faded away. It was just you and Shoto, standing there under the warmth of the water, sharing something you had both waited so long for. 

He kissed you back with a gentle urgency, as if he couldn’t quite believe this was real. His hand came up to cup the side of your face, the water from his fingers dripping down your cheek as he deepened the kiss ever so slightly, but still kept it tender, as though he were afraid of breaking the fragile moment between you. 

When you finally pulled away, both of you were breathless. Your foreheads rested together, the water still trickling over you, but the world had gone quiet, a peaceful silence wrapping around you both. 

You smiled softly, brushing a stray lock of wet hair away from his forehead. “We should get out of here before we both turn into prunes,” you murmured, a teasing lilt to your voice, though your eyes remained full of warmth. 

Shoto blinked, as if snapping out of a dream, and then nodded, his lips twitching into the faintest of smiles. “Yeah… that might be a good idea,” he said, his voice still hushed, the weight of everything that had passed between you lingering in the air. 

You stood up first, offering him your hand to help him rise from the floor of the shower. He took it, the touch of his fingers against yours sending a soft warmth through your chest. Together, you stepped out of the shower, the cool air of the bathroom a sharp contrast to the warmth you shared inside. 

Grabbing a towel, you wrapped it around Shoto’s shoulders first, gently rubbing his hair dry before handing him another one. He looked at you with an expression so tender, so grateful, that it made your heart ache in the best way. You both changed into dry clothes, the atmosphere between you calm, comfortable—like the two of you had reached a new kind of understanding. 

When you finished, you sat on the edge of your bed, Shoto quietly sitting next to you. The room was dim, the soft hum of the apartment’s heater the only sound between you. You glanced at him, noticing the way his eyes still held traces of exhaustion, but also something lighter—a quiet relief. 

You leaned your head on his shoulder, letting out a content sigh. “You’ve worked so hard, Shoto,” you whispered, echoing the words you had said before, but now they felt even more meaningful. “You don’t always have to carry everything on your own. I’m here.” 

He turned his head slightly, pressing a soft kiss to the top of your head. “I know,” he murmured, his voice steady and soft. “I know now.” 

And for the first time in a long time, Shoto felt a sense of peace settle over him. The weight of the day, the nightmares, the fear—all of it faded into the background as the two of you sat there, sharing the quiet comfort of each other’s presence. 

It wasn’t perfect. But it was simple, and that was more than enough for both of you.  

BONUS:  

As the two of you sat in the peaceful quiet, your head still resting on Shoto’s shoulder, you felt the softest brush of fur against your leg. Before you could react, a familiar weight jumped onto the bed between you. Mr. Wellbottom, your grumpy but loyal cat, had decided to make his presence known. 

The fluffy feline nudged his head against your arm, purring loudly as if to scold you for being away for so long. He then climbed into your lap, curling up into a cozy ball as he pressed himself into your warmth, his tail flicking slightly before settling down. 

You couldn’t help but smile, your hand instinctively going to stroke his soft fur. “I missed you too, Wellbottom,” you said softly, scratching behind his ear the way you knew he liked. 

Shoto looked down at the cat, a fond look in his eyes as he watched the little scene unfold. He reached out cautiously, his hand brushing against Mr. Wellbottom’s back, and to both of your surprise, the cat didn’t protest. Instead, he let out a soft purr, accepting the gentle touch. 

“Looks like someone’s been waiting for you,” Shoto murmured, the faintest hint of a smile tugging at his lips. 

You laughed quietly, the sound soft and warm as it filled the room. “He missed his cuddle buddy. But you took good care of him while I was gone, didn’t you?” 

Shoto gave a small nod, his eyes still on Mr. Wellbottom as the cat shifted to press even closer to you, as if making up for lost time. “Yeah, but… I think he was waiting for you. We both were.” 

Your heart melted at those words, and you leaned into Shoto a little more, your fingers absentmindedly petting the content cat in your lap. The three of you sat there, surrounded by a calm that was as comforting as it was rare. 

For the first time in what felt like forever, everything was still. There were no battles to fight, no villains to defeat, no painful memories clawing their way to the surface—just the soft purring of Mr. Wellbottom and the quiet warmth of Shoto at your side. 

“I’m here now,” you whispered, your voice barely audible as you nestled into Shoto’s side. “I’m not going anywhere.” 

[telephonedear]

no because do you ever think about the apollo cabin?

they were one of the biggest cabins, probably second only to hermes’. as the healers and the archers, they were key players in the battle of manhattan. without will solace, annabeth would be dead, and without the cabin as a whole, so many other campers would be, too.

 the archers had to go fight on the front lines, which we literally see in the book. think of how many monsters and demigods they probably fought off- think of what would’ve happened if they hadn’t been there. would camp half blood still have won the war? how many other demigods were on the bridge with michael yew, defending it? how many of them died when it collapsed? did they get confused in the midst of the battle field and shoot eachother?

and the healers. gods. not only were they working in the building, but it’s likely that they were in the midst of battle, too. many of them were probably sent out to try and save and revive campers all across the city, or offer ambrosia and what little supplies they had left. healers are made to protect, and so that is what they did. think of how many demigods they must have saved, and then think of how many healers probably died saving the lives of their friends.

but the apollo cabin was full of dreamers. they prioritize art and poetry and music. they were dancers, mediators, idealists. they were creators and lovers. the apollo cabin was a light around camp, and kept camp half blood together. they were the glue. they saved olympus and all demigods in the war, and held them together all throughout it, until the end.

the apollo cabin lost the most campers of any cabin, because they were there. they were present. so many of them died with a bow in hand, defending olympus and camp half blood. so many of them died while pushing campers out of the way from attacks, while giving stitches or ambrosia. think of how terrified they must have been, knowing that they wouldn’t return back to their cabin. think of all the bodies that littered manhattan in the aftermath, and then think of how many of those bodies belonged to the apollo cabin. think of apollo, when he saw his children, his beautiful, lovely children, radiating light in death. his beloved children, who knew the risks and chose to save, to heal, to love, to hope.

without the apollo cabin, kronos would have won the war. the apollo cabin went from one of the biggest cabins to one of the smallest. they were, undoubtedly, some of the bravest demigods alive. they gave their lives saving those who couldn’t save themselves, and i think that it is tragic.

[rhys-writes-some-shit]

The Dilemma of a Rubber Duck

Alastor x Reader (Queer-Platonic) ft. Bestie Lucifer

(TW: Mentions of depression, mentions of suicide attempts)

You knew Alastor didn’t like Lucifer. You weren’t 100% sure why, only that the King of Hell really got on Alastor’s nerves. Ever since Lucifer had moved into the hotel in the aftermath of the battle with the angels, Alastor had spent hours ranting and raving to you about him. They were constantly trying to one-up each other. It was comical, really.

Except that you were stuck in the middle of it. 

Unlike Alastor, you and Lucifer had hit it off right away, getting along like two peas in a pod. There was a certain camaraderie that came with being clinically depressed and still having to force a smile, which both you and Lucifer were experts at. Many late nights had been spent exchanging stories and finding humor in things other people might not otherwise find humorous. 

(“I tried to kill myself twice, and then end up getting hit by a car! That’s how I end up in Hell? What did I do all that work for?” That was the first time that story had been met with laughter, and that was when you knew Lucifer was a good guy.)

You were constantly thinking about how Alastor would react to knowing you enjoyed hanging out with Lucifer, or vice versa. It worried you to no end, so you tried to keep your friendship with Lucifer under wraps, for Alastor’s sake. He needed someone to back him up, and you wanted to be that person. You wanted Alastor to know he could trust you.

One evening, you and Lucifer were talking in the parlor, drinking tea. Alastor was out for a fancy Overlord meeting, so you were able to relax a bit. 

“I’m so glad we have Niffty around,” you were saying. “Sometimes I just can’t find the energy to do my laundry, but I know that if I leave it on the floor, she’ll take care of it right away.” You thought for a moment. “It’s not like I’m forcing her to do it. Or taking advantage of her. Right?”

“Nah, I thought cleaning was her job,” Lucifer reassured. “My loophole with that is all my outfits are the same. Also magic. Magic is very helpful.”

“Man, I’m jealous!” You gave a lighthearted groan. “I wish I could have magic like that.”

“Who’s saying you can’t?” Lucifer shrugged, sipping at his tea. 

You snorted. “Have you seen me? Do I look like Overlord material to you?”

“I didn’t think Mr. Crimson Asshole was an Overlord, so looks aren’t everything.” Lucifer hesitated. “Oh, shit, I shouldn’t have said it like that. You two are like, dating, right?”

You made a ‘fifty-fifty’ gesture with your hand. “Eh… Not really? It’s like… a mutual relationship. Neither of us are the ‘dating’ type, so we just kind of… vibe. But it’s fine, I get it. You should hear the things he says about you.”

“Oh?” Lucifer leaned forward, curious. You mimed zipping your lips, grinning playfully. “Alrighty then, keep your secrets.”

The feeling of guilt you’d been getting used to returned, but you smiled past it. If there was anything Alastor taught you, it was that you could hide everyone behind a smile. And it worked, for the most part. The only person who’d ever been able to see though it was Alastor himself. Similarly, you were the only person able to see through his ever-present smile.

Setting his cup down, Lucifer waited for a lull in the conversation. “Before I forget, I have something for you.” With a wave of his hand, a little yellow rubber duck appeared in his palm. Its features and markings made it resemble you. 

Eyes wide, you carefully took the duck from his hands like it were an actual duckling.

“This one doesn’t breathe fire or anything, but…” Lucifer paused, like he was struggling for words. “I haven't had a real friend in… a really long time. S-so I wanted to thank you. For that.”

You were at a loss for words. The only other person to get you gifts since you’d died had been Alastor. That feeling of guilt hit you like a train, but it was masked with a bright, grateful smile.

“Lucifer, I… I’m honored. Thank you.” You struggled to tear your eyes away from the duck. “Can I hug you?”

Instead of replying, Lucifer pulled you out of your chair, hugging you close. You matched it, hoping your appreciation for his existence was properly conveyed.

“Ahem.”

You and Lucifer pushed each other apart like a teenage couple caught making out. Alastor was standing in the entrance to the parlor, teeth bared. His grin was sharp, borderline violent, and his eyes were narrowed. 

“Al,” you tried, but no other words followed.

Then Alastor sighed, and the murderous look in his eyes disappeared. You were still holding the duck Lucifer had given you. Looking down, you realized you were shaking, and felt a little faint. 

You stumbled back, right into Alastor��s arms. Head spinning, you allowed him to set you down on the chair. Alastor kept a hand on your arm, watching your every movement with surgical focus. He knew, you realized. He knew how guilty you felt, how much anxiety it was causing you. How long he’d known, you had no idea, but you could feel it in the way he wouldn’t let you go. You didn’t want him to let you go. 

“Are you okay?” Lucifer looked frantic, obviously worried. “Do you need water? Something to eat? Medicine? I’m sure there’s some around here somewhere, if you just give me a minute—”

“I’m fine,” you interrupted, trying to muster a smile. You failed. How Alastor held his grin all day, every day, was a mystery to you. “Well, okay, maybe not fine.”

“They could use water,” Alastor provided, only a slight edge in his voice. Nodding, Lucifer ran off to get a glass of water, leaving you and Alastor alone in the parlor. 

Alastor was silent for a moment. You could tell he was trying to figure out what to say. “I apologize for not noticing your anxiety sooner.” A little joy fluttered in your chest. Alastor enjoyed watching everyone’s suffering—everyone except for you.

“It’s not your fault,” you told him. “I should’ve been more upfront. I just…” You were still a little shaky. Alastor’s hand moved so it rested over your hand. The rubber duck was still in your other hand, and you turned it over with your fingers, fidgeting with it. “I didn’t want you to leave me.”

“Now that is nonsense if I ever heard any!” Alastor laughed. “What a ridiculous sentiment, my dear. It would take more than that to take me from you, I assure you.”

“But I know how much you hate him.” You looked towards the direction Lucifer had gone. “You hate that he’s here. You hate that he’s meddling. And this is just another reason to hate him.”

Alastor was contemplating his words again when Lucifer came back. He gently handed you the glass of water, causing you to have to put your duck down. Alastor was right to ask for it—the water helped. The air was tense as Lucifer and Alastor glared at one another while also keeping an eye on you. 

“When you are happy, I am happy,” Alastor said out of the blue. Both you and Lucifer looked to him for clarification. “If talking with Lucifer makes you happy…” Alastor swallowed, gritting his teeth, glowering deeply at Lucifer, “then, by that logic, it makes me happy.”

“Hey, same here.” Lucifer put his arms up symbolically. “I’m not gonna leave my friend just because I hate their boyfriend– er, whatever you are, that is.”

“Partner,” you and Alastor said in unison.

“Right. That.” 

The air was still tense, but it made you feel better knowing that Alastor and Lucifer wouldn’t be fighting over you, at the very least. 

“Okay,” you said suddenly, having finished your water. “I’m going to bed. Thanks again for the duck, Lucifer.”

You barely heard Alastor growl at Lucifer upon realizing that he’d given you a gift, but it just caused you to smile fondly. Alastor was quick to step in beside you, taking your arm to escort you up to your room. 

“You’re welcome!” Lucifer called back. “But don’t think that just because you and Alastor are partners that I’ll make one for him too!” You had to stifle a laugh. Lucifer was too sweet for his own good, no matter how awkward it made him seem.

You turned so Lucifer could see your grin. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

[marvel-wlw]

Reunited

Natasha Romanoff x Fem!Reader

Requested by @geekyandgay98

Request: Could I please have an imagine where the reader was an Avenger who got dusted during Infinity War and her and Natasha were just about to admit their feelings for each other before Thanos came and ruined everything. When everyone comes back after 5 years the reader is sad when she finds out Natasha sacrificed herself to bring everyone back. So when the rest of the Avengers go to return the stones she goes to Vormir instead. When Red Skull sees her bring the stone back he offers to bring Natasha back (she had to die to get the stone, so in my head, bringing the stone back should be a way to bring Nat back) and just the aftermath of this. They reunite and finally get together. And then they come back and Natasha is reunited with everyone.

Disclaimer: I don’t own any of the characters, they belong to Marvel.

Tag list: @geekyandgay98

A/N: I'm so sorry it's been over a year since I've written anything. But I'm trying to get back into it! I used google Translate, so I’m sorry if it’s incorrect.

moya lyubov’ = my love

The darkness fades as you open your eyes. Looking around at your surroundings, you frown in confusion. The last thing you remembered was fighting Thanos.

You had been trying to get to where Natasha was, but that was when you had gotten a weird feeling in your chest, then everything went black. It felt like it was seconds ago. But there's no one around.

You start to panic and begin to frantically look around. "Natasha?! Wanda?! Anyone?!" Your breathing starts to become erratic.

"(Y/N)?!" Someone calls out to you. They finally come into view. Your eyes widen when you see Wanda.

Running over to her, you tackle your best friend in a tight hug. "Wanda, you're alright!"

"What happened?" Wanda asked, pulling away from the hug.

"I don't-"

Before you could finish your sentence that was when a portal opened and Doctor Strange walked out, telling you and Wanda to follow him.

xxxxx

After the long battle, you finally defeated Thanos. Once things had calmed down that's when Clint told you what happened to Natasha, how she sacrificed herself to bring everyone back.

Hearing that was like someone punched you in the chest then ripped your heart out and stomped on it. Right before the first battle with Thanos, you were about to tell Natasha how you felt. But now... now it was too late. She was gone.

At first your were just staring at the ground, breathing heavily. Then your knees gave out, you fell to the ground, crying. Both Wanda and Clint hugged you, trying their best to comfort you. But the only person you wanted was Natasha.

xxxxx

When Steve said he was going to return the stones, you offered to take the soul stone back to Vormir. At first Steve protested, but when he realized he wasn't going to win he stopped. You could be very stubborn when you wanted to.

But returning the soul stone was something you felt like you had to do. So traveling to Vormir is what you did.

As you made your way to Red Skull you could feel a heaviness in your chest the closer you got, you clenched the stone in your hand.

"Ah, someone has returned the soul stone." Red Skull said once you stood in front of him. He took the stone from you. "Now that the stone is back in my possession, I can bring back the one who sacrificed herself."

At hearing that your eyes widen in shock. "But how? I thought once someone sacrificed themselves for the soul stone it can't be undone."

Red Skull shook his head. "Whoever sacrificed themselves for the stone may be brought back should the stone be returned to me."

You had to stop yourself from getting too hopeful, you didn't want to get your hopes up to then suddenly be let down. That would just cause you so much more heartache than you're already dealing with. In the end if it didn't work, you're not sure if you could handle it.

You watched Red Skull carefully, waiting with bated breath. But once it was done and Natasha was standing right in front of you, you couldn't help but let out a sob.

You ran right into her, wrapping your arms around her tightly. Natasha was frozen in shock for a moment, once she realized what was happening she wrapped her arms around you, holding you close.

You pulled away slightly, looking at her. Your mouth opened and shut, unable to get the words you wanted to say to her out.

"Nat... I've been meaning to-" You were cut off when Natasha suddenly kissed you. Your eyes slowly fluttered shut as you kissed her back. Natasha didn't even hesitate to kiss you.

She had been waiting to do that for so long, then the blip happened and you were gone. Those 5 years of you being gone were hell for her, she kept thinking about the things she could've done to save you, all the things she wished she told you sooner.

Now that she was back, she wasn't going to waste any more time.

xxxxx

When you came back to the others with Natasha, to say everyone was in a state of shock was an understatement. There was a lot of hugging and a lot of tears.

Clint had hugged her so fast that he almost knocked her back from the force. Other than you he was dealing with what happened to Natasha extremely hard.

"It's so good to have you back, Natasha." Bruce said.

Natasha gave him a smile and a nod, she wrapped her arm around your waist, holding you close.

"We should all do something together. To celebrate Natasha being back." Bucky said.

Wanda shook her head, she crossed her arms over her chest. "I think that could wait, don't you?" She tilt her head to the side. "Let (Y/N) and Natasha spend some alone time together?" There was no way Wanda was going to let them interrupt your time with Natasha.

Seeing that caused you and Natasha to look at each other, chuckling.

xxxxx

You snuggle into Natasha's arms, resting your head on her chest. You let out a sigh in content as you listen to Natasha's heartbeat.

Natasha smiles, she runs her fingers through your hair. "I love you, moya lyubov’."

"I love you too, Nat." You blush and smiling, looking up at her.

"I've been thinking about something." Natasha says after a couple minutes of comfortable silence.

"What's that?" You smile up at her.

"I've been thinking about retiring as an Avenger." She smiles.

You sit up. "Nat... are you serious?" You're in complete shock.

Natasha nods, leaning in to kiss you gently. "I think it's time I start doing things that make me happy, and not focusing on the red in my ledger. Plus I want to spend time with you. We lost 5 years... I don't want to waste any more time."

You start to tear up and you move forward, straddling her hips. You lean down, kissing her lovingly. Natasha smiles into the kiss, she cupped your cheek with one hand, pulling you even closer, deepening the kiss.

Let's just say, you and Natasha didn't get that much sleep that night.

[moonselune]

heyo! your writing is phenomenal and I thank you for sharing it with us!

If you're still open to prompts/requests, would you consider writing a matching piece for the Bg3 male companions reacting to no ability to revive their partner? If not, that's okay!

Thanks again for your writing and for sharing your talents!

Goddamn this hit me hard in the feels writing this x thank you so much for your support and thank you for reading it xox

Gale:

The battle had been fierce and unrelenting, the ground littered with the bodies of fallen enemies and friends alike. In the heat of the chaos, Gale had fought with all his might, casting spell after spell to protect his comrades and turn the tide of the fight. But despite his best efforts, he couldn't save you.

When the dust settled and the reality of your lifeless body sank in, Gale's heart shattered. He rushed to your side, his hands trembling as he cradled your head in his lap. Your eyes, once so full of life and love, stared blankly into the void. He could feel the warmth leaving your body, and with it, his own will to fight on.

"No, no, no… this can't be happening," Gale whispered, his voice breaking. He frantically searched his pack for a revivify scroll, but found none. The last one had been used in a previous battle, and now he was left with nothing but despair.

Desperation clawed at his mind as he looked around at the others. "We need a damned scroll, something, anything!" he shouted, his eyes wild with panic. But the somber faces of his companions told him what he already knew—they were out of options.

"I won't accept this," Gale muttered, his determination hardening. "I will find a way to bring you back. I swear it."

Despite the protests from the others, Gale refused to listen. He cast a gentle preservation spell over your body, ensuring that it would remain untouched by decay. He would find a way, to bring you back, to bring you back to him, no matter the cost.

As he carried your preserved form back to camp, his mind raced with possibilities. Ancient rituals, forgotten tomes, divine intervention—he would exhaust every option. Gale's heart ached with the loss, but his love for you fueled his resolve. He would bring you back. He had to.

Astarion:

The battlefield was eerily quiet, the sounds of clashing steel and agonized cries fading into a haunting silence. Astarion's sharp eyes scanned the aftermath, searching for any sign of you. When he finally spotted your lifeless body, his heart plummeted into an abyss of despair.

"No!" Astarion screamed, his voice echoing across the blood-soaked ground. He sprinted to your side, collapsing beside you. His hands shook as he desperately tried to find a pulse, a sign, anything that you were still with him. But there was nothing.

"Please, no… you can't leave me," he whispered, his voice choked with tears. He tore through his own pack, then yours, searching frantically for a revivify scroll. When he found none, he turned his fury on the others.

"Where is it? Where's the damned scroll?" he demanded, his eyes blazing with a mix of rage and sorrow. He tore through their packs, heedless of their attempts to stop him. "There has to be one! There has to be!"

But there was nothing. No scroll, no hope. Astarion's strength gave out, and he collapsed onto your body, sobbing uncontrollably. His tears mixed with the dirt and blood on your face as he held you close, his heart breaking with each passing moment.

"I'm so sorry… I should have protected you," he murmured between sobs, his voice filled with guilt and anguish. "I can't… I can't do this without you."

Astarion's cries echoed through the battlefield, a haunting reminder of the love and loss that war brings. In that moment, all he could do was hold you, his tears falling like rain, and call out to every god- every devil, for a miracle that would never come.

Wyll:

The battle had been brutal, the toll high, but the true cost was only just being felt. Wyll had fought valiantly, as he always did, his heart and sword guided by a desire to protect those he loved. But it hadn’t been enough. He found your lifeless body amidst the carnage, your eyes forever closed to the world.

"No… no, this can't be happening," Wyll choked out, his voice trembling with grief. He fell to his knees beside you, his hands shaking as he cradled your head in his lap. Tears streamed down his face, unchecked and unstoppable, mingling with the dirt and blood on your skin.

"I should have been better," he whispered, his voice breaking. "I should have fought harder. This is all my fault."

Wyll's sobs grew louder, his body wracked with grief. He clung to you, his heart breaking with every passing second. The others watched, helpless and heartbroken, knowing there was nothing they could do to ease his pain.

In the back of his mind, a dark thought began to take root. What if he made another pact? What if he sought out a devil, any devil, who could bring you back? The idea terrified him, but the prospect of living without you was even more horrifying.

"I can't lose you," he murmured, his tears falling onto your still face. "I can't do this without you."

Wyll's sobs echoed across the battlefield, a haunting sound that spoke of a love lost too soon. He held you close, his mind torn between his grief and the desperate, dangerous hope that he could find a way to bring you back.

Halsin

The silence that followed the battle was deafening. Halsin stood amidst the fallen, his eyes scanning the field until they found you. His heart clenched painfully in his chest as he approached your lifeless body, his expression a mask of stoic calm.

He knelt beside you, his large hands gently lifting you into his arms. The others watched in silence, their grief palpable, but it was Halsin's reaction that truly frightened them. There were no tears, no cries of anguish—just a terrifying, emotionless silence.

Halsin stood, cradling your body as if you were the most fragile thing in the world. Without a word, he turned and began walking towards the forest. The others called out to him, their voices filled with concern and confusion, but he did not respond.

He walked deeper into the forest, the shadows closing in around him. The sounds of the battle faded away, replaced by the quiet rustle of leaves and the distant calls of woodland creatures. Halsin's face remained impassive, but inside, a storm of emotions raged.

He carried you to a secluded glade, a place of peace and beauty. Gently, he laid you down on a bed of moss, his hands lingering on your face as he memorized every detail.

"I have failed you," he whispered, his voice barely audible. "I should have protected you."

Halsin knelt beside you, his heart heavy with sorrow. He knew he would never return to the camp, never face the others again. His place was here, with you, in the quiet solitude of the forest.

Ngl when I did Halsin's all I could think about was him never being seen again and it developing into some kind of myth/legend about the druid in the woods forever mourning his beloved.

mwhahahaah

Hope you all liked it ! - Seluney xoxo