#love that; love 'my wife is becoming a baby' and understand I'm not making fun of him

[medicinemane]

Je suis tired

[satansdarlin]

Blue stained glass

While I work on the fourth chapter of a full deck of cards I also decided to write for another one of my boys! Welcoming Kurt Wagner to the stage! Apologies for any bad German, I'm still learning it and often forget that it is a gendered language so please forgive me.

MDNI

Rating: E

Word count: 8.3k

Pairing: Kurt Wagner x shy!artist!fem!reader

Warnings: reader being kinda stalkerish but not with bad intentions, implied that some of the students have harmless crushes on Kurt, Kurt being a flirt, smut! Because I missed writing it, Oral (fem receiving), PiV, mentions of Kurt's faith, you wife that man up!, pregnancy. Not beta read!

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

Golden light trickled in through the curtains as the sun set behind the school. The smell of dragon's blood incense wafted around the room in delicate wisps of smoke. The only sounds were the slight breeze outside and the dragging of bristles across canvas. You sat on the wooden stool, a slight hunch in your back you'd need to correct later with stretches. Your gaze followed along as you drew blue across the canvas. Blue had become a vital part of all your recent works, and you knew exactly why. Whenever you thought of art, flashes of blue fur, a spaded tail, the smell of sulfur, a silver cross, and a mischievous laugh filled your mind. You wouldn't call it obsession or infatuation. He was your muse. Not that he knew. How could you tell your teammate that he gave you such powerful inspiration? So the portfolio filled to the brim with artworks of just him remained hidden away under your bed.

Kurt Wagner. Everyone loved him. He was a friend worth keeping, made everything fun, always had the best ideas to keep the students entertained, and loved to chatter. Even Logan enjoyed his company from time to time. Kurt just had a way with people, with mutants. A few months back, you had a solo mission with him. It was awkward at first—the shy, quiet artist of the school and the impish chatterbox didn't know how to approach one another. In the end, the mission had concluded in giggles and soft-spoken words. Kurt was wonderful. That's why you couldn't understand why he kept insisting on spending time with you of all people. You were reserved, shy, introverted—the exact opposite of Kurt.

You had put the "Do Not Disturb" sign on your door before starting, hoping it would deter visitors. It did. Well, anyone who saw the sign didn't bother you; the same could not be said for the blue fuzzy imp. He didn't see it, to be fair. He had just gotten home from taking some students to the mall for shopping and wanted to show you the paints he had found, so he teleported. The smell of sulfur and the familiar BAMF sound filled your room, making your eyes widen comedically as you stared at the canvas. A painting of Kurt praying in a church with blue stained glass—one he was most certainly not supposed to see.

"Mein Freund, you would not believe the gift I have found for you— ah," his pleasant accent-tinted voice stalled as he gazed at your shape and then the painting before you. His eyes widened and filled with glee. "Oh mein Gott! Is that me? It's... it's—" he struggled to find the English word for a moment before settling on, "herrlich."

You stammered shyly as he walked up behind you, gazing at the painting with a smile that made your insides flutter like a thousand baby butterflies had hatched. "I... erm... yes, it's you, but it's not finished," you spoke hesitantly.

"Not finished?" Kurt moved closer, his tail swaying gently behind him in that way it did when he was truly excited about something. "But it's already so beautiful! The way you captured the light through the windows..." He leaned in, careful not to disturb your workspace, but close enough that you could feel the warmth radiating from him. "I had no idea you were watching me pray."

Your cheeks burned hot. "I... I wasn't. Not really. I just... sometimes I sketch you when you're around the mansion, and I remembered how peaceful you looked that one time I passed by the chapel..." You trailed off, realizing you might be revealing too much.

Kurt's expression softened, and a knowing look crossed his features. "Then perhaps..." he said, reaching down to carefully take the brush from your trembling fingers, "you wouldn't mind showing me the other drawings?" His golden eyes flickered toward your bed, where your portfolio lay hidden.

Your heart nearly stopped. "You knew?"

A gentle laugh escaped him, musical and warm. "Mein Schatz, I may be a fool sometimes, but I'm not blind. I've seen the way you look at me when you think I'm not watching." He paused, his tail curling slightly in what you had learned was nervousness. "The same way I look at you when you're lost in your art."

The confession hung in the air between you, as tangible as the wisps of incense smoke still dancing through the golden evening light. You sat frozen, brush dripping blue paint onto the dropcloth below, as Kurt Wagner—your muse, your teammate, your secret inspiration—waited for your response with bated breath.

"You... look at me?" You whispered in shock and a tinge of disbelief. He looked at you like you looked at him? That sounded impossible, yet the way his tail curled in nervousness and his foot tapped against the ground told a different story.

Kurt's hand came up to rub the back of his neck, a gesture you'd seen countless times when he was trying to find the right words. "Ja, I do. More than I probably should." His voice was softer now, almost vulnerable. "When you're in the garden sketching, or during the art class with the students when you create those beautiful displays... The way your face lights up when you finally perfect a piece you've been working on..." He trailed off, a deeper blue tinting his cheeks.

Your heart thundered in your chest as he took a small step closer, his tail now swaying in a gentle, hypnotic pattern. "I've wanted to tell you for so long, but..." He gestured to himself with a self-deprecating smile. "Well, I wasn't sure someone who creates such beauty would want..."

"Kurt," you interrupted, finding courage you didn't know you had. Standing from your stool, you reached for his hand, feeling the unique texture of his fur against your palm. "You are beauty. Why do you think I can't stop painting you?"

His golden eyes widened, and that brilliant smile you'd captured in countless sketches spread across his face. "Then perhaps," he said, bringing your joined hands up between you, "we've both been a bit foolish, ja?"

A small laugh escaped you, breaking the tension. "More than a bit." Your eyes drifted to the painting on the easel, then back to him. "Would you... would you like to see the others? The real ones, not just the ones I do for art class?"

Kurt's tail perked up, and he squeezed your hand gently. "I would love nothing more, mein Schatz. But first..." He reached into his jacket pocket with his free hand and pulled out a small paper bag. "I really did bring you something from the art store."

Inside was a set of iridescent blue paints that shifted colors in the dying sunlight, almost the exact shade of Kurt's fur when he moved. Your breath caught at the thoughtfulness of the gift, and when you looked up at him, his expression was so tender it made your heart ache.

"I saw them and thought of you," he admitted quietly. "Though I suppose I'm always thinking of you these days."

The confession hung in the air like a prayer, and you found yourself moving closer, drawn into his orbit like you'd always been, only now there was no need to hide it. The golden light that had started this evening's painting session now painted Kurt in warm hues, making him look almost ethereal—your own personal angel, right here in your art-cluttered room.

"Kurt," you whispered, not quite sure what you wanted to say, but knowing you needed to say something. The way he looked at you now, like you were one of his precious religious paintings come to life, made you understand why he'd always insisted on spending time with you. He'd been drawn to you just as you'd been to him, both of you dancing around each other in an elaborate routine of stolen glances and hidden feelings.

His tail curled gently around your wrist, as if he couldn't bear to not touch you in some way, and you realized that maybe this was what inspiration truly felt like—not just the desire to capture beauty, but to be part of it. With trembling hands, you knelt beside your bed, aware of Kurt's presence behind you as you reached underneath to pull out the large black portfolio case. Your heart hammered against your ribs—no one had ever seen these pieces before. They were raw, honest, intimate in a way your public artwork never was.

"I, um," you started, clutching the portfolio to your chest as you stood, "some of these are just quick sketches, and others aren't very good—"

"Liebling," Kurt interrupted gently, his tail swaying with barely contained excitement, "everything you create is wunderbar. May I?" He gestured to your bed, and you nodded, watching as he settled cross-legged on the corner, patting the space beside him.

You sat down carefully, the portfolio balanced on your lap. Kurt's warmth beside you was both comforting and nerve-wracking. Taking a deep breath, you unzipped the case and pulled out the first few pieces.

"Oh!" Kurt's delighted gasp made you jump slightly. His tail curled in pleasure as he leaned forward to study a charcoal drawing of himself perched on the mansion's balcony railing, looking out over the grounds. "I remember this day. It was right after that terrible thunderstorm, ja? When the sun finally came out?"

You nodded, surprised he'd remembered such a small moment. "The light was hitting your fur just right, and I couldn't help but..." you trailed off, embarrassed at admitting how much you'd observed him.

But Kurt was already reaching for the next piece, his golden eyes bright with wonder. "And this one!" It was a series of quick gesture sketches of him during a training session, his body in various poses of acrobatic grace. "You've captured the movement so perfectly. I had no idea you were watching so closely."

Your cheeks burned. "I hope that doesn't sound creepy."

His laugh was warm and genuine. "Nein, not at all. Though it does explain why you always volunteered to help supervise training." His tail brushed against your back playfully, making you squeak in surprise.

As you went through more pieces, your initial nervousness began to fade, replaced by a warm glow at Kurt's genuine enthusiasm for each drawing. He had a comment for every piece—remembering the moments you'd captured, praising your technique, asking questions about your process. His tail never stopped moving, expressing his excitement in a way his controlled expressions couldn't quite hide.

"This one," he breathed, carefully lifting a watercolor painting, "this is..." It was one of your favorites—Kurt in the library late at night, reading by lamplight, his tail curled around a cup of tea. You'd painted it from memory after watching him there one evening, trying to capture the peaceful contentment he radiated in those quiet moments.

"The way you see me," he said softly, tracing the air above the painting as if afraid to touch it, "it's so..."

"Real," you finished quietly. "That's just... how you look to me."

Kurt turned to face you then, and the expression on his face made your breath catch. "All this time," he murmured, "I thought I was alone in feeling this way. In seeing such beauty in someone else."

You ducked your head, overwhelmed by the intensity of his gaze, but his tail gently curved under your chin, lifting it back up. "No hiding," he said softly. "Not anymore, ja?"

The portfolio slid forgotten to the floor as Kurt's hand came up to cup your cheek, his touch feather-light, as if he still couldn't quite believe he was allowed this. In the fading golden light of your room, surrounded by scattered artwork that told the story of your hidden feelings, Kurt Wagner looked at you like you were the masterpiece—not the artist. Time seemed to slow as Kurt's hand remained gentle against your cheek, his thumb brushing softly across your skin. Your heart was doing acrobatics that could rival his best performances, and you wondered if he could feel how warm your face had become.

"Mein Schatz," he whispered, leaning closer, "may I...?"

You could only manage a tiny nod, and then his lips were on yours, soft and sweet. The kiss was gentle, almost reverent, and you could feel his smile against your mouth. His tail curled around your waist, drawing you closer as your hands tentatively came up to rest against his chest, feeling the soft fabric of his shirt and the steady beating of his heart beneath.

When you finally parted, you immediately buried your burning face in his shoulder, earning a warm chuckle that rumbled through his chest. "Hiding again so soon?" he teased, his accent thicker with emotion.

"Mmph," was all you could manage, which only made him laugh more.

"And here I thought artists were supposed to appreciate beautiful moments," he continued playfully, his tail squeezing your waist. "Perhaps I should pose for another painting? 'The First Kiss' would make a lovely addition to your collection, ja?"

You groaned and swatted his chest weakly. "Kurt!"

"Or maybe a series?" He was clearly enjoying himself now, his voice full of mischief. "We could call it 'The Evolution of Romance' or 'Love in Blue'—"

You pulled back just enough to look at him, your face still flaming. "You're terrible."

His grin was radiant. "Terrible, but yours?" The hope in his voice made your heart flutter.

"Yeah," you whispered, managing a shy smile. "Mine."

"Wunderbar!" He pressed a quick kiss to your forehead. "Though I must ask—do you have any paintings of our future together hidden away as well? Should I be prepared for more surprises?"

"Kurt Wagner!" You tried to sound scandalized, but you couldn't help laughing, especially when he waggled his eyebrows at you.

"What? It's a reasonable question! After all, you've been secretly documenting me for months. For all I know, you've already planned our wedding colors—blue and more blue, I assume?"

You grabbed a nearby pillow and tried to smack him with it, but he teleported across the room with a BAMF, leaving a cloud of sulfur and the echo of his laughter. He reappeared perched on your easel, careful not to disturb your painting, his tail swishing playfully.

"You know," he said, his golden eyes twinkling, "I think I prefer being your muse when I know about it. The poses can be much more interesting this way."

"Oh my god," you mumbled, falling back onto your bed and covering your face with your hands. But you couldn't hide your smile, especially when you felt the familiar displacement of air and suddenly had a warm, fuzzy mutant curled around you, pressing gentle kisses to your temple.

"Don't worry, Liebling," he murmured against your skin, his tail finding your hand and twining with your fingers. "I promise to be the best muse you could ask for. Though..." He paused dramatically, "I do have one condition."

You peeked through your fingers at him. "What's that?"

His smile softened into something so tender it made your chest ache. "That next time you paint me praying in the chapel, you'll be there with me. Some masterpieces are better created together, don't you think?"

This time, when you pulled him down for another kiss, you didn't hide your face afterward. After all, how could you when he was looking at you like that—like you were both the artist and the masterpiece, the muse and the creator, the beginning and end of something beautiful?

Though you did blush furiously when he later insisted on signing all your portraits of him with "Kurt Wagner, Professional Muse and Master of Stealing Artists' Hearts.”

.

.

.

The chatter of students filled the air and the sweet smell of honeysuckle surrounded you and your students. Truth be told, you hadn't even offered to do this job; teaching the art class wasn't something that had ever been on your mind, but Charles had asked you to do so, saying it would be good for the students to have an outlet for their emotions. Though teaching a bunch of mutant teenagers wasn't particularly easy, especially when half of them wanted to be in the danger room training to be X-Men—you probably got more questions about that than actual art.

"Your piece should be about expression. There is no right or wrong, only your feelings about your art," you spoke gently as you walked by the students settled in the grass of the gardens behind the school. A hand rose up and you looked over and nodded at the boy, Damian you believed his name was.

"Excuse me, but how exactly is painting helping us prepare for anything?" You sighed at the boy's question as he got some chastising nudges from some of your more kind students. You got that question about every class.

Before you could answer, a familiar BAMF sound and the scent of sulfur announced Kurt's arrival. He appeared perched on the garden wall, his tail swaying as he grinned at the class. Several students brightened immediately—Kurt had always been a favorite among them.

"Ah, but that is where you are wrong, mein junger Freund," Kurt said, gracefully flipping down to land beside you. His shoulder brushed yours in a subtle show of support that made your heart flutter, even after months of being together. "Art teaches us more than you might think. Strategy, patience, observation..." He winked at you before continuing, "How do you think I learned to move so efficiently in battle? By understanding space, movement, and perception—all things your talented teacher here helped me improve."

A few students giggled, well aware of your relationship with the blue mutant. It had become something of a school legend how you'd been caught with a portfolio full of Kurt drawings. Some of the older students even insisted they'd known all along, claiming they'd seen the way you both looked at each other during training sessions.

"Besides," Kurt continued, picking up one of the spare brushes from your supply kit and twirling it like one of his swords, "did you know that Leonardo da Vinci used his artistic skills to design defense systems? Or that camouflage patterns were created by artists? Even the maps we use for missions were drawn by artists."

Damian sat up straighter, suddenly looking more interested. "Really?"

You smiled, grateful for Kurt's intervention. "Really. And speaking of missions..." You shared a knowing look with Kurt before addressing the class. "Who wants to hear about the time my sketching skills helped us locate a hidden Sentinel facility?"

"Oh, tell them about the warehouse in Berlin!" Kurt added enthusiastically, his tail curling around your waist as he settled beside you. "When you noticed the architectural inconsistencies in my reconnaissance sketches?"

The students were all paying attention now, art supplies temporarily forgotten as they leaned in to hear the story. Even Damian had put down his phone, his previous skepticism replaced with curiosity.

"Well," you began, feeling Kurt's tail squeeze encouragingly, "it started when we noticed some unusual energy signatures in an old industrial district..."

As you recounted the mission, Kurt occasionally chimed in with his own colorful commentary, making the students laugh with his dramatic reenactments. You couldn't help but smile, watching him demonstrate his acrobatic moves while describing how your artistic knowledge had helped spot the hidden entrance.

"And that," Kurt concluded, landing gracefully beside you again, "is why we should never underestimate the power of art. Or artists." He pressed a quick kiss to your temple, making several students coo and others playfully groan at the display of affection.

"Mr. Wagner," one of the girls called out, a mischievous glint in her eye, "are you going to model for our class like you do for the teacher?"

Your face immediately heated up as Kurt laughed delightedly. "Sadly, I'm needed in the danger room. Though..." He grinned at you, that familiar impish look in his golden eyes, "I do have a private session scheduled later."

"Kurt!" you hissed, mortified as the students erupted in giggles.

He merely winked, pressed another quick kiss to your cheek, and teleported away with a theatrical bow, leaving you to face your amused students with burning cheeks.

"Now then," you said, trying to regain some semblance of professional dignity despite your flushed face, "back to your projects. And no, Jenny, you cannot paint Mr. Wagner for your assignment—pick a different subject."

The disappointment on several faces told you that more than one student had been planning exactly that. You couldn't really blame them though. After all, you had an entire portfolio that proved just how inspiring a subject Kurt Wagner could be. After the lingering giggles from Kurt's dramatic exit finally subsided, you circled back through your students, the grass crunching softly beneath your feet. The afternoon sun warmed your shoulders as you paused to observe their work, offering gentle guidance where needed.

"Sarah," you said, stopping beside a girl whose hands were literally glowing as she painted, her mutation allowing her to create luminescent colors, "that's beautiful. The way you're using your powers to add depth to the sunset—very creative." Her beaming smile made your heart warm; it was moments like these that reminded you why Charles had been right about teaching.

Moving on, you found Marcus struggling with his brushstrokes, his extra set of arms getting in the way of each other. "Try coordinating them like we practiced," you suggested softly. "Remember, each hand can work on a different section. Think of it like... like when Kurt coordinates his tail with his movements during training."

The mention of Kurt made a few nearby students glance up with knowing smirks, but you ignored them, focusing on how Marcus's face lit up with understanding. Within minutes, all four of his hands were working in harmony, creating an intricate pattern that would have taken others four times as long to complete.

"Teacher?" A quiet voice drew your attention to Amy, a shy freshman whose scales tended to change color with her emotions—currently a nervous purple. "I... I don't know if this is good enough." She gestured to her canvas where she'd painted a self-portrait, her scales rendered in beautiful iridescent shades.

You knelt beside her, careful not to disturb her workspace. "What makes you think it's not good enough?"

"It's just..." she glanced around at her classmates' work, her scales shifting to a deeper purple. "Everyone else is painting normal things. Beautiful things. I painted... me."

"Amy," you said gently, thinking of all the times you'd doubted your own artwork, of all the paintings of Kurt you'd hidden away because you thought they were too revealing, too personal. "Do you remember what Kurt said in his last ethics class about beauty?"

Her scales flickered with hints of pink—she had a bit of a crush on Kurt, like half the school. "That it comes in all forms?"

"Exactly. And look—" you pointed to how the light caught her painting's scales, creating rainbow patterns across the canvas. "You've captured something uniquely beautiful. Something only you could create, because only you know exactly how those scales feel, how they shift and change. That's not just good art, that's powerful art."

The purple of her scales gradually shifted to a warm golden hue as she smiled, looking at her painting with new eyes. Around you, other students had paused to listen, and you saw several of them return to their work with renewed purpose.

"Damian," you called out, noticing he'd actually started painting instead of just complaining, "excellent use of perspective on that building. Been practicing your architectural sketches?"

He tried to look nonchalant, but you caught his pleased grin. "Yeah, well... after what you said about the Berlin mission... I figured it might be useful. You know, for future X-Men stuff."

"Hey, teacher?" Jenny piped up, paint smudged adorably across her cheek. "Since we can't paint Mr. Wagner, could you tell us more about how art helped on missions while we work? Please?"

A chorus of agreements rose from the class, and you couldn't help but smile. "Alright, but keep painting. There was this one time in Moscow when my knowledge of color theory helped us identify a shapeshifter..."

As you shared the story, moving between easels and offering guidance, you noticed how the students' work seemed to come alive. Even the most reluctant artists were engaged now, their creativity flowing as they listened to tales of how art and heroism could intertwine.

The smell of honeysuckle grew stronger as the afternoon wore on, mixing with paint and teenage enthusiasm. A flash of blue in your peripheral vision caught your attention—Kurt, watching proudly from a nearby window between his training sessions. He blew you a kiss before disappearing again, leaving you with paint-stained fingers and a garden full of budding artists who were finally beginning to understand that there was more than one way to be extraordinary.

"Teacher?" Amy called out, her scales now a confident shade of blue that reminded you of someone special. "I think I'd like to do another self-portrait. Maybe... maybe one of me in an X-Men uniform this time?"

You smiled, thinking of your own portfolio of Kurt, of how art had led you to love, and how that love had led you here, helping these young mutants find their own way to express their unique beauty. "I think that's a wonderful idea, Amy. Just remember—"

"We know, we know," the class chorused together, matching your grin, "there is no right or wrong, only our feelings about our art!”

.

.

.

Evening had settled over the mansion, the last rays of sunlight painting your studio in familiar golden hues. The day's classes were done, art supplies cleaned and stored away, and you'd finally managed to stop blushing from Kurt's teasing comments during your lesson. You were just setting up your easel when the familiar BAMF announced his arrival.

"Ah, mein Schatz," Kurt's voice was warm as he appeared behind you, arms wrapping around your waist and tail curling affectionately around your ankle. "Ready for our 'private session'?" You could hear the playful smirk in his voice.

"You," you turned in his arms to poke his chest accusingly, "are terrible. Do you know how many knowing looks I got from the students after you left?"

He laughed, pressing a kiss to your forehead. "I couldn't help myself. You're adorable when you blush. Speaking of which..." His tail reached over to your desk, picking up your sketchbook and flipping it open to reveal today's quick sketches of him during his brief visit to your class. "Someone was inspired during their teaching duties, ja?"

"Kurt!" You tried to snatch the sketchbook, but he teleported across the room, perching on the window seat as he continued flipping through pages.

"Oh, this one is new!" He held up a sketch of himself demonstrating acrobatic moves to your students. "You captured my best side."

"All your sides are your best side," you mumbled before you could stop yourself, then immediately covered your face with your hands as he teleported back to you, gathering you close.

"Is that so?" he murmured against your ear. "Then perhaps we should make sure you have proper reference material for all of them?" His tail gently pulled your hands away from your face, forcing you to meet his tender gaze. "Now then, how would you like me to pose, Liebling?"

You gestured weakly to the arrangement you'd set up—a comfortable chair positioned near the window, where the last of the sunset would cast those perfect shadows you loved to capture. "Just... sitting would be nice. Natural. Like when you're reading in the library."

Kurt's expression softened as he settled into the chair, understanding your desire to capture one of your favorite quiet moments. He pulled out a small book of poetry—Rilke, you noticed—and arranged himself comfortably, his tail draped over the armrest.

"Like this?" he asked, and you nodded, already reaching for your charcoal. This was familiar territory now, though no less special than those first secret sketches. If anything, it was more intimate—knowing he was here specifically for you, watching you create, sharing these peaceful moments together.

As you began to sketch, Kurt started reading aloud softly in German, his accent wrapping around the words like silk. You'd grown to love these evenings, the gentle cadence of his voice mixing with the scratch of charcoal on paper, the way his tail would occasionally twitch in response to a particular phrase or stanza.

"You know," he said during a pause between poems, his golden eyes meeting yours over the top of his book, "I used to wonder why you chose me as your subject so often. Now I think I understand."

You paused in your sketching, curious. "Oh?"

"Ja. It's the same reason I can't stop watching you when you create." He marked his place in the book and leaned forward slightly. "There's something magical about seeing someone doing what they love, being exactly who they are meant to be. You see me that way when I move, when I pray, when I simply exist. And I see you that way when you're lost in your art."

The charcoal trembled slightly in your fingers as he continued, "It's like seeing someone's soul, isn't it? Their truest self?"

You nodded, unable to find words for how perfectly he'd captured it. Kurt rose from the chair in one fluid movement, crossing to where you stood. His hand covered yours on the charcoal, bringing it to rest against the easel.

"Perhaps," he whispered, turning you to face him, his tail wrapping around your waist, "we could find other ways to capture this moment?"

Your breath caught as he leaned in, his lips meeting yours in a kiss that tasted of poetry and promises. The charcoal slipped forgotten from your fingers as you wound your arms around his neck, letting yourself get lost in the overwhelming rightness of being held by him.

When you finally parted, Kurt rested his forehead against yours, a soft smile playing on his lips. "Though I do hope you'll finish the sketch later. I have a reputation as Professional Muse to maintain, after all."

You laughed, the sound mixing with his own quiet chuckle in the golden evening light of your studio, where art and love had become beautifully, perfectly intertwined.

"So how do you wish to capture this moment, hm?" You hummed up at him with a new sense of courage.

Kurt's yellow eyes sparkle with mischief and desire as he gazes down at you, his tail gently squeezing your waist. The sunset light casts a warm glow on your skin, highlighting the delicate curve of your neck and the soft fullness of your lips. He leans in, his breath ghosting over your skin as he speaks.

"There are so many ways, mein Schatz..." he murmurs, his voice low and husky. "We could start with a kiss..."

And he does, capturing your lips in a deep, lingering kiss that steals the breath from your lungs. His lips are surprisingly soft against yours, moving with a passion and tenderness that sets your heart racing. One hand tangles in your hair, tilting your head to deepen the kiss, while the other slides down your back, pressing you closer to him.

When he finally pulls away, you're both breathing heavily, your cheeks flushed and your eyes dark with desire. Kurt's tail tightens around you, keeping you anchored against him as he trails his lips along your jaw, nipping lightly at your earlobe.

"Or perhaps," he whispers, his voice sending shivers down your spine, "you'd like to capture the way my hands feel on your skin?"

Without waiting for an answer, he begins to unbutton your shirt, his fingers brushing against your bare skin as he reveals more and more of your body to his hungry gaze. Each touch sends sparks of electricity through you, igniting a fire that only seems to grow with each passing second.

As your shirt falls to the floor, Kurt takes a step back, his eyes roving hungrily over your newly exposed skin. His gaze is almost reverent, as if he's drinking in every inch of you like a man dying of thirst.

"Beautiful," he breathes, his voice filled with awe and desire. "You're absolutely perfect, Meine Liebe."

His hands come up to cup your breasts, thick fingers brushing over your hardening nipples through the thin fabric of your bra. You arch into his touch, a soft moan escaping your lips as he begins to circle and tease, building the pleasure slowly but surely. Kurt's hands continue their sensual exploration of your body, tracing every curve and dip with a reverence that makes your skin tingle. He leans down to press hot, open-mouthed kisses along your collarbone, his tongue darting out to taste the salt of your skin.

"I want to worship every inch of you," he murmurs against your throat, his voice rough with desire. "To show you how much you mean to me."

His fingers find the clasp of your bra, deftly unhooking it and sliding the straps down your shoulders. The garment falls away, baring your breasts to his eager gaze. Kurt pauses for a moment, simply drinking in the sight of you, before cupping the weight of your breasts in his palms.

"Perfektion," he breathes, thumbing your nipples until they pebble beneath his touch. He lowers his head, taking one nipple into his mouth and suckling gently, his tongue swirling around the sensitive bud.

You gasp at the sensation, your hands coming up to tangle in his hair, holding him close. Kurt continues his ministrations, alternating between your breasts, licking and sucking and nipping until you're writhing against him, desperate for more.

His hands drift lower, skimming over your stomach and hips before dipping beneath the waistband of your pants. He strokes you through the damp fabric of your underwear, his touch light and teasing.

"So wet already," he marvels, his voice thick with arousal. "You're so responsive, mein Schatz. So perfect."

He hooks his fingers in the waistband of your pants and underwear, tugging them down your legs in one smooth motion. You kick them off impatiently, standing before him in nothing but your socks and shoes.

Kurt takes a step back, his eyes raking over your naked form with undisguised hunger. He licks his lips, his tail swishing behind him in anticipation.

"Lie down on the couch," he commands, his voice leaving no room for argument. "I want to taste you." You obey without hesitation, settling into the plush cushions immediately.

 Kurt follows you to the couch, his eyes never leaving your body as he crawls over you, settling between your spread thighs. He runs his hands up your legs, his touch light and teasing, until he reaches the apex of your thighs.

"So beautiful," he murmurs, spreading your folds with his fingers and exposing your glistening flesh to his hungry gaze. "I can't wait to taste you."

He leans down, dragging his tongue along your slit in one long, slow lick. The sensation is electric, sending shockwaves of pleasure rippling through your body. You gasp, your hips lifting off the couch as you seek more of his touch.

Kurt chuckles, the sound vibrating against your sensitive skin. He looks up at you through his lashes, his yellow eyes gleaming with mischief and desire.

"Patience, mein Schatz," he teases, blowing a cool stream of air over your wet heat. "We have all the time in the world."

And then he's diving back in, his tongue delving deep into your core, lapping at your essence like a man starved. He circles your clit with the tip of his tongue, flicking over the sensitive bud again and again until you're writhing beneath him, desperate for release.

His hands grip your thighs, holding you steady as he feasts on your flesh, his groans of pleasure muffled against your skin. The room fills with the obscene sounds of his licking and sucking, punctuated by your own breathy moans and gasps.

Kurt brings a hand up to your clit, rubbing tight circles around the swollen nub as he continues to tongue-fuck your dripping cunt. The dual stimulation is too much, pushing you closer and closer to the edge with each passing second.

"That's it, Kleine," he encourages, his voice rough with arousal. "Let go. Come for me."

His words are all it takes to send you hurtling over the edge, your body convulsing with the force of your orgasm. You cry out, your hands fisting in Kurt's hair as waves of pleasure crash over you, threatening to drown you in their intensity.

Kurt works you through it, his tongue and fingers never faltering as he prolongs your climax, drawing out every last shudder and gasp until you're boneless and spent, collapsing back against the couch in a sweaty, satisfied heap.

He presses one last kiss to your sensitive flesh before crawling up your body, settling his weight on top of you. His erection presses insistently against your thigh as he wiggles off his pants, hot and hard and ready for you.*

"I need you, meine Engel," he breathes, his voice thick with desire. "I need to be inside you."

He reaches down between your bodies, grasping his cock and lining it up with your entrance. You can feel the heat of him, the pulsing need that throbs against your slick folds.

With one swift thrust, he's inside you, filling you completely. You cry out at the sudden stretch, your walls clenching around him like a vice.

"Fuck, you're tight," Kurt groans, his hips rocking against yours as he begins to move. "So perfect. So gut."

He sets a steady rhythm, pulling out slowly before slamming back in, his cock hitting depths you didn't even know you had. Each thrust sends sparks of pleasure shooting up your spine, igniting a fire in your core that threatens to consume you whole. Your heart flutters hearing him slur out German and English in a pleasure drunken haze. Kurt's tail wraps around your legs, holding them open wide as he pistons into you, his hips snapping against yours with increasing urgency. The sound of skin slapping against skin fills the room, punctuated by your shared moans and gasps.

"So good," he pants, his face buried in your neck as he laves his tongue over your pulse point. "So perfekt. So mine."

His words send a shiver down your spine, igniting a possessive heat in your core. You wrap your legs around his waist, pulling him deeper into your body with each thrust.

"Yours," you gasp, your nails digging into the fur of his back. "All yours, kurt"

Kurt growls, low and deep, his tail tightening around your legs as he pounds into you with abandon. The couch creaks beneath your combined weight, threatening to give way under the force of his thrusts.

"Ich liebe dich," he slurs, his words muffled against your skin. "Love you so much. Need you. Need to be inside you forever."

His confession sends you careening over the edge, your body seizing up as another orgasm rips through you. You clench around him, your walls fluttering and spasming as wave after wave of pleasure crashes over you.

"Fuck, Prinzessin," Kurt groans, his hips stuttering as he chases his own release. "Feel so good. So perfect. Gonna come. Gonna fill you up."

With a final, bruising thrust, he buries himself deep inside you, his cock pulsing as he empties himself into your waiting womb. You can feel the heat of his seed, the way it paints your insides, marking you as his.

He collapses on top of you, his weight pressing you into the cushions as he pants against your neck. His tail unwinds from your legs, draping lazily over your thigh as he nuzzles into your hair.

"I love you," he murmurs, his voice soft and sated. "My perfect girl. Meine schöne Künstlerin."

You smile, your heart full to bursting with love and contentment.

.

.

.

Nearly a year later

The chapel was quiet save for the soft whisper of your pencil across paper. Early morning light filtered through the stained glass windows, casting familiar blue patterns across the wooden pews. Kurt knelt at the altar in prayer, his tail curved peacefully behind him, rosary beads wrapped gently around his three-fingered hands.

You'd grown comfortable here in these morning moments, sharing this sacred space with him. What had once felt like an intrusion now felt like belonging. Your sketchbook was filled with these quiet scenes—Kurt in prayer, Kurt reading his Bible, Kurt simply existing in this place that meant so much to him. But this morning was different. This morning, your hand trembled slightly as you drew, your mind wandering to the small box hidden in your art supplies.

It had taken weeks to create, working late into the night in your studio after Kurt had fallen asleep. A hand-carved wooden ring box, painted with delicate scenes from your relationship—the first time you'd been caught painting him, your first kiss, teaching art class together, quiet moments in the chapel. The ring inside was simple silver, engraved with tiny crosses and artist's brushes intertwined.

"You're thinking very loudly this morning, Liebling," Kurt's voice startled you from your thoughts. He hadn't moved from his position, but his tail swayed knowingly.

"Sorry," you mumbled, adding another shadow to your sketch. "Didn't mean to disturb your prayers."

"You never disturb me," he said softly, finally turning to face you with that gentle smile that still made your heart skip. "Though I am curious what has you so distracted. Usually you're much more focused when drawing in here."

You set down your sketchbook with trembling fingers. "Actually, I... I have something for you."

Kurt's eyebrows rose curiously as you reached into your art bag, pulling out the painted box. His golden eyes widened as you stood and walked to him, kneeling beside him at the altar.

"Kurt Wagner," you began, your voice shaky but determined, "you've been my muse, my inspiration, my best friend, and the love of my life. You've shown me that beauty exists in so many forms, that faith can be found in art just as much as prayer, and that love..." you had to pause, swallowing hard as his tail curled around your wrist encouragingly, "love can be both the masterpiece and the creation itself."

You opened the box, revealing the ring nestled inside. "Would you let me spend the rest of my life creating with you?"

Kurt's breath caught as he took in the painted scenes on the box, his fingers trailing reverently over the tiny details you'd spent so long perfecting. When he looked up, his eyes were shining with tears.

"Mein Gott," he whispered, "you've managed to surprise the teleporter." His tail tightened around your wrist as he pulled you closer, pressing his forehead to yours. "Did you really think there could be any answer but yes? You are the greatest masterpiece God has ever placed in my life."

Your laugh was watery as you slipped the ring onto his finger, a perfect fit just as you'd hoped. Kurt cradled your face in his hands, his touch infinitely gentle.

"Though I must say," he murmured, his accent thick with emotion, "you've rather stolen my thunder, Liebling." With his tail, he reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a small velvet box, making you gasp. "I was planning to ask you after morning mass."

Inside was a delicate gold ring with a blue sapphire that matched his fur perfectly. "Great minds think alike, ja?"

You couldn't speak through your tears as he slipped the ring onto your finger, but you didn't need to. The way you pulled him into a kiss said everything necessary, the morning light painting you both in shades of blue and gold through the stained glass windows.

"I can't wait to see how you'll paint this moment," Kurt whispered against your lips, making you laugh.

"Already planning it," you admitted. "Though I might need my muse to pose for several reference sketches."

His tail wrapped around your waist as he grinned. "I believe that can be arranged. After all..." he pressed another soft kiss to your lips, "we have the rest of our lives to perfect it."

Through the chapel windows, the morning light continued to paint you both in blues and golds, artist and muse, two hearts creating something beautiful together. And if anyone noticed that your afternoon art class was especially romantic that day, well... they were kind enough not to mention it. Though you did have to tell Jenny, once again, that no, she still couldn't paint Mr. Wagner for her assignment—even if he was now your fiancé.

.

.

.

You woke up to soft snores and looked over, unable to help but smile softly. Your husband's sleeping face was too cute to not smile at. After five years of being married, you'd never grow tired of waking up to this. Recently he had taken to growing out a goatee, saying it made him look more mature (you couldn't help but agree—after all, it made your mind wander a lot too). You carefully pulled out of his embrace without waking him; his tail was always a struggle to remove from its place around your leg without waking him, but you managed it. After a small silent dance of triumph, you moved out of your shared bedroom to the room across from it.

The room was halfway painted, though you had been working on it for the past six months. It had paintings of stories and family littered across it—scenes from Kurt's favorite fairy tales, the X-Men as loving aunts and uncles, even a small portrait of Professor Xavier smiling benevolently from above the planned crib space. You picked up a brush and were about to continue when you accidentally kicked a paint bucket. That's all it took, and with a sudden puff of smoke your husband had teleported in, his stance ready for action but relaxing when he saw it was just you up early.

"Mein Gott, woman, I thought you were a thief!" He exclaimed, holding his three-fingered hand over his chest before walking over with a soft tired smile and pecking your lips. "You're up early, I don't even hear the morning birds yet."

"Needed to stretch my legs," you hummed back, and he hummed softly in suspicion. His hand rested on your stomach.

"Are you sure it is not because of the Kleine?" He spoke in a teasing voice as he gently rubbed your stomach.

You leaned back against his chest, letting his warmth seep into you as you both gazed at the wall you'd been painting. His tail automatically wrapped around your waist, just above where your small baby bump was beginning to show. "Maybe," you admitted. "I just... I want it to be perfect before they arrive."

Kurt nuzzled against your neck, his goatee tickling your skin. "Liebling, with you as their mother, how could it be anything but perfect?" His hand joined yours on the brush. "Though perhaps we could add a few more acrobatic scenes? A future X-Man should know their father's best moves, ja?"

You laughed softly, mindful of the early hour. "Kurt, we don't even know if they'll be able to teleport yet."

"Ah, but they're already showing artistic talent!" He moved to stand beside you, gesturing dramatically at your stomach. "Look how perfectly they've rounded out your usually straight lines!"

"Did you just call me fat, Mr. Wagner?" you asked with mock offense.

His eyes widened comically. "Nein! Never! I merely meant to say you're more... sculptural these days?" His tail flicked nervously as he tried to backtrack, making you giggle.

"Saved it," you murmured, turning back to the wall. You'd been working on a particular scene—a small blue figure learning to teleport while protective arms waited to catch them. "Do you really think they'll like it? All of this?"

Kurt's arms wrapped around you from behind, his chin resting on your shoulder as he surveyed your work. "Mein Schatz, they will love it. Just as they will love you." His hand splayed protectively over your stomach. "Though perhaps we should add a small easel next to the training equipment? Best to be prepared for all possibilities."

You turned in his arms, brush still in hand, accidentally leaving a small blue streak across his chest. "Oops."

His grin turned mischievous. "Oh? Is that how we're playing this morning?" He reached for another brush. "You know, the wall isn't the only canvas in need of some color..."

"Kurt Wagner, don't you dare—" But it was too late. With a playful BAMF, he was behind you, painting a gentle heart on the back of your nightshirt.

What followed was a careful (mindful of your condition) but enthusiastic paint war, filling the nursery with quiet laughter and colorful streaks. By the time the sun began to rise, you were both covered in paint, sitting on the drop cloth and admiring your handiwork—both on the walls and each other.

"You know," Kurt mused, his tail drawing abstract patterns in a small paint puddle, "this might be your best work yet."

You looked around at the cheerful chaos you'd created together—the story-filled walls, the paint-splattered drop cloths, the mixing of your artistic vision with his playful additions. Your hand found his, fingers intertwining as they rested on your growing bump.

"No," you said softly, "I think our best work is still in progress."

His answering smile was brighter than the rising sun, and as he pulled you in for a paint-smudged kiss, you couldn't help but think that sometimes the most beautiful art came from life itself—messy, unexpected, and absolutely perfect.

Though you did make him clean up the paint footprints he'd teleported all over the mansion before the students woke up. Your gaze went over to the window which Kurt had helped you place the stain on. The blue hues glittered over the room and it filled you with a sense of love and happiness. Blue would always be apart of your life now, and you wouldn't have it any other way. 

[macsimagines]

The most wicked but potentially horrifically adorable idea just popped into my head…

Bonten!Mikey, Future!Kazutora, and Future!Draken waking up one night to find darling gone. They rush out just to find darling outside, clearly distressed, because they want to leave but genuinely can’t bring themselves to do it��� That they’ll miss them…

Basically that sweet old Stockholm syndrome finally hitting, and hitting hard 🫢🫢🫢. How would they react to seeing that.

YUMMY YUMMY ANGST MY FAVORITE

TW:YANDERE BEHAVIOR, MINOR DNI, KIDNAPPING, STOCKHOLM SYNDROME, BABY TRAPPING, POSSIBLE MURDER, ABUSE MENTION

Yandere!Bonten Manjiro Sano (AKA Mikey)

The fact that you were able to sneak out of his arms while he slept with you was shocking, but the fact that you actually managed to slip out had been a miracle.

He wakes up in a cold sweat, and the hammering in his heart never stops since you're not there to hold him and shoosh him after another nightmare.

Honest to god, he's about to fucking loose it when he can't find you in the bathroom. Then he's sprinting out the door, gun in hand ready to pistol whip you with it for even trying to pull this shit then he sees you.

Sitting on the steps to the hideout, knees pulled up to your chest just staring out into the freezing October night. Your nighty is a little damp from a passing drizzle and he has no idea how long you've just been sitting there, just that you haven't so much as blinked at him since he got to you.

For a split second he's worried you're not even breathing, but then he hears the small little mutters coming from you and something in him just tears at your words...

"I can't go he needs me. If I leave then he's all alone, I can't let him be alone, I can't go, what is he supposed to do without me, how can I-"

Mikey can't listen to another word just scoops you into his arms, you're too cold, baby. How could you do that to yourself, and takes you inside where he can keep you safe and warm. Maybe its better this way. You can be broken together.

Yandere!Kazutora Hanemiya

He is so deluded that you're where you want to be that you leaving just isn't even a possibility for him. Not to say that he wasn't prepared for you to try it at first but after a half a year being his wife (prisoner) and you saying your first "I love you," to him a few nights back, he let himself get comfortable.

Then comes the night where he wakes up and you're not right next to him. His brain is surging and his heart is quaking in a new kind of fear he hasn't felt in years.

He's tearing the house apart screaming for you; "B-baby!? Time to come out now! I'm not havin' fun! Y/N WHERE THE FUCK ARE YOU!?"

When that doesn't work, he's heading for the door, knife in hand. Honestly the adrenaline has him delirious and he's not even sure if the knife is for you when he finds you or for himself if he can't.

Kazutora almost trips on your hunched form, but there you are! Curled up into a ball on the steps. "Y/N?" voice hoarse from all the yelling, but so goddamn happy to see you.

The knife drops with a loud clang and he's embracing you too tight that it almost hurts. "Hey, Kazu," you say very plainly. You couldn't even make it past the steps as soon as you got out the door.

You couldn't move your legs to run up the road, not even when you heard him screaming and wrecking the house inside. You weren't even afraid of what would happy when he found you. Just numb.

Kazutora brings you in, ignoring the whirlwind mess, even stepping on broken glass just to get you inside, where he can keep you safe and locked.

You don't even flinch when he locks the collar onto your neck. "J-just to be safe. You understand, right baby?" And you nod. Because the sick thing is you really do.

Yandere! Ken Ryuguji (AKA Draken)

You've been with him for years. Even before he took you. But about three years ago when you tried to go he made it so you never could.

But now was your chance, he'd become laxed, or maybe he had been too tired to keep up his usual routine, because he had forgotten to lock you in that night.

So Draken wakes up and you're not there. He's furious, how could he have forgotten to secure your chain before going to bed with you that night!?

He had just felt so relaxed and happy that day, but that was his own stupid fault. The reason he was so happy was because he had been careful, one fuck up and now you're gone.

He's running out of the house grabbing his keys when- he finds you. A bottle of his bourbon in your hands and you leaning against the side of the house taking swig after swig in the freezing night.

"Y/N," he hisses, almost like a question, because if you weren't going to leave then why the hell were you here?

"Tried to go," you tell him, words slurred, "Didn't make it very fuckin' far."

He stares at you for a moment, before finally asking; "Why not?" And then you turn to look at him although that look in your eyes kind of makes him feel like you can see though him, not at him.

Not breaking eye contact once you point up at your infant daughter's window. The child you didn't even want, the baby that for the first time since she was born, you actually had held that very day.

"Don't even fuckin' like that brat," you hiss at him, but god only know why you couldn't bear to leave her with him, "...I know." he'll say, reaching for the glass to have a drink of his own.

But you loved her enough to stay. Just like he knew you would.

[wehaveimagineshere]

Thanks for answering my question! I ask because I wanna keep the Carlos train going lol. I'd love to read something about him and his wife (the reader) being new parents to their first kid. Like putting her to sleep or playing with her. Anything super fluffy and sweet!! Thinking of Carlos with a little baby makes all my insides go fuzzy and he's such a girl dad to me. Thaaaaaaanks!!!!

(Also I love how much attention he's been getting here >.< normally you expect a flood of Leon but not this time!)

Of course, thank you so much for asking for clarification! Omggg he's definitely a girl dad, 100%, this is such a cute ask!!

I love how much attention Carlos is getting too! He's such a sweetie and I am so happy he's getting so much love! I expected a lot of Leon too but I honestly haven't gotten a single request for him yet. Not complaining cause it means I'm getting all these Carlos prompts instead! I love it!

~*~*~

There's one thing that became blatantly obvious not long after you brought your little girl home.

Holding her head against your shoulder, her body snug against your chest, you walk toward the sound of the front door closing, Carlos' "I'm home babe!" echoing into the house.

Your little girl goes still upon hearing his voice, and you can already picture her wide brown eyes, the same hue as Carlos', darting left and right over your shoulder, trying to find the source of the sound.

"Hey hey, look at my girls," he says as you turn the corner, smile blooming across his lips as he quickly steps out of his shoes. "One, as sexy as she'll ever be," he starts, pressing a quick kiss to your lips. "The second, being the cutest thing to ever live," he continues as you flip your baby around.

Her squeal nearly blows your eardrums as she finally gets to see him. Chubby little hands outstretch, fingers doing a weird wiggle as her body does the same.

Carlos takes her gently and holds her up, her little fingers doing those wiggles on his cheekbones as she does a mix between a gurgle and a laugh. "And what have you been up to today?" Upon her giggle, he lowers her to cradle her against his chest. "Sounds like you've been taking care of mom."

"She definitely has," you say, leaning in to give your daughter a quick kiss to her forehead before turning to give your husband a kiss on the cheek. "We had a full four hour nap earlier."

"Heeyy, way to go!" He kisses the top of her head. "Do you know how hard it is to get this woman to rest?"

You roll your eyes.

"I've had to beg on my knees once, you know," he continues, ignoring your eye roll. "I only succeeded because I managed to get your mom's pants down."

"Carlos."

"What? It's how she was made."

Your baby paws at his nose, drool leaking onto his shoulder.

"Still. No kid, at any age, wants to hear stories about that with their parents."

"Look, our agreement was that I could still swear until she starts learning words. Should be more specific." Hefting her up, he offers her back to you. "Hold her for a sec?"

Her expression shifts as if in slow motion. The smile turns into a frown, little eyebrows furrowing as her tiny brain tries to understand why daddy is holding her away. When she sees your hands reaching for her, the horrible fact that she's about to be passed settles and tears burst free, her wails nearly shaking the walls.

Grabbing her quickly, you make sure to position her so her back is to your chest. Adopting the bop dance that's become second nature, you manage to shush her down to pouty sniffles.

"The moment you walk in, all she wants is you," you say with a sigh.

Sticking his jacket into the closet, Carlos throws you a grin. "She knows who's more fun."

You scoff, fighting down the smile. "Oh yeah?"

"Dad comes home, and--" He snatches her up, doing a little spin. Laughter peels from her chest. "--she knows she's going to have a good time."

"She even takes bath time so much easier when you're the one doing it."

"I'm a natural."

That smile finally breaks free and you cross your arms. "I can't really deny that," you say softly, taking in the love of your life holding his little girl like she's the most precious thing in the world.

"You did good, you know," he says back, placing your daughter back against his shoulder as he leans to kiss your cheek. "She's one heck of a cute kid." His head yanks to the side as she finds a lock of hair and tugs. "Hey, we've talked about this."

Laughing, you follow him into the living room, finding your spot next to him as he frees his hair and places her on his legs. Pressing both index fingers against her cheeks, he smiles as she blows a raspberry with his help.

You thought you'd seen every expression Carlos could make, but the way he looks at his daughter always makes your heart melt. And you don't really blame your little one, really, for loving him just as fiercely back.

[annab-nana]

“How is my wife more badass than me?” with a character of your choosing :)

i am doing this with jaime reyes from blue beetle because i LOVE him and have to write something with him and just like every first writing i have ever written for a character, i'm not sure how i feel about it so i hope you like it love <3

warnings: not proofread, flash!reader, one use of y/n, use of pet names (baby, princesa)

❀ masterlist ❀

you don't know how it happened, but you felt on fire for one second, electrified the next, and then you were out.

when you woke up, your body was a weird mixture of sore and energized. you got up to get your phone, but you moved faster than you ever had. faster than was humanly possible.

"what the fuck?" you muttered to yourself as your hands started to tremble. your thumb hit the keys to call the only person you could think of to help you in this situation. your husband.

"hey, i was just about to call you. are you working late at the lab or something?" you pulled your phone away from your face to check the time and your jaw dropped. you were out for three hours. you swore it had only been a dew minutes.

"jaime," you let out shakily. his heart fell to his stomach on the other end of the line. "something's wrong."

"you still at the lab?"

"mhmm."

"i'll be there in two minutes."

the two minutes to you felt like an eternity. you were too scared to move. you felt like you were buzzing, not to mention very tired and hungry.

looking around you, you tried to put the pieces together as to what the hell happened. you remembered it was storming beforehand which was now just a light drizzle. the window nearest to you was broken and its glass shards littered the floor. earlier, you were holding glass vials of chemicals in your hands, but that glass was broken and on the floor too. finally, you looked down at yourself. your lab coat appeared to be both burnt and chemically singed.

"y/n?" jaime called out to you, causing your eyes to snap to the doorway where he stood. you watched his eyes jump around the scene, from the window to the glass on the floor to your destroyed coat. "baby, what happened?"

he took a step toward you, but you held your hand out. "stop," you warned him, "i don't want to hurt you. i- i don't know what i'm capable of right now."

"what do you mean?"

"well, i-" you paused before bolting from where you were to the other side of the room and then back to where you were. "i'm really fast and i feel a lot of energy coursing through me. i don't know what it means. i don't know what i'll do."

jaime took a small step closer to you and you both locked eyes. "i don't think you'll hurt me and even if you did, khaji's got me." he took another step and when you didn't look as frightened as before, he slowly made his way to you and took your hands in his to comfort you. "explain everything you remember to me in detail."

once done with your explanation, he asked you to run around the room so khaji da could inspect you.

"do you realize you can run faster than the speed of light?" jaime shared excitedly. "that's so cool! like, how is my wife more badass than me?"

your hand came up to swat the back of his head. though, his reaction was lessening your worry a fair amount, you were still scared. "jaime, focus."

"right, so i say, for right now, let's just go home since it's so late and i'll make some phone calls to see if we can get you some help, but hey, look at me." jaime paused to place his hands on your cheeks, forcing your focus on him. "this will be okay. trust me, i understand that fear at first. when you have no idea what is going on and all you want to do is get rid of it, but then once you've got it figured out, it starts to become really fun. but, you've got me. you know that, so let's go home. we'll get you something to eat and get you to sleep and then, i'll call some people."

while his speech was heartwarming and gave you some hope, you couldn't help but lean into the despair of it all. "who do you know that can help with this?"

"oh, don't forget, princesa." his voice was sickly sweet before he pecked your lips. "batman owes me a pretty big favor."

remember to support writers & reblog :)

turn on notifications for @annab-library to be notified when i post something new or join the tag list here!

[double--hh]

Frankly, I’m not a fan of this whole cheating plot, mainly because I’m not a fan of cheating obviously, I’ve become a MilkBread shopper at this point and I personally want Francis to have a happy ending where he feels unconditionally loved. But considering how Nacha feels, I understand where she’s coming from so you’re free to make your own unofficial B-plot for this, pookie or whatever nickname that is. You get to ship Focaccia while I have my MilkBread.

The real kicker is when Francis ghost’s comes back to haunt the Mikaelys-Ciprianni family. First, he’ll leave Anastacha alone for now. He’ll deal with her later. What his number one targets are Angus and Nacha. Obviously he’s gonna kill Angus for stealing his wife. For Nacha, his intense love for her has evolved into a twisted love-hate relationship. After finding out she’s been cheating on him for years, he resolves to get back at her. He now believes that everyone he’ll love will eventually betray him. So he haunts her the most too. Leave her alive but keep her imprisoned, “My dear sweet Nacha, why would you ever betray me? Were you in love with me before? Your love for me faded because of what?” Hell get every answer out of her that’s for sure, all the while he’s keeping her in his twisted inferno of his obsessive love again.

As for little Rosemary, let’s just say Francis utterly despises her. She’s everything Francis hates because it’s a reminder of Angus’s and Nacha’s union. A baby born to give him the biggest middle finger that Angus stole his wife from him. He’ll kill her too, no doubt, right after dealing with Nacha and Anastacha himself.

Anyway, it’s been fun to think about. Keep getting brain worms for this or whatever. I’m so glad you love everything about my AU. Makes me happy!

~ SK Francis anon 🔪

I don't condone cheating at all, I just want to depict that absolutely nobody is innocent in my story and everyone is excruciatingly flawed <3

Oh ho ho ho I'm already exploring what Franghost would be like :3c

Despite me being a Franti when he was still kicking, I enjoy the concept of Francis being a devilish little shit as a ghost.

Personally, I really uncomfortable with any sort of depiction of child murder, so I'm kinda staying away from that with Rosemary in Spoiled Milk. Methinks Franny mainly bothers Anastacha and sometimes causes havoc in the Mikaelys-Ciprianni household.

Fran does communicate with Rosemary sometimes, kinda like an imaginary friend who sometimes scares her for shits and giggles. He doesn't like her because she's obviously Angus' and Nacha's child, but Rosemary thinks he's oddly sweet sometimes.

Anastacha willing takes the brunt of Franghost's torment if it means he leaves her parents and especially her baby sister alone. Ana is not doing okay mentally.

Franny can't bring himself to speak to Nacha, even in her dreams, he's still taking in the fact that Nacha was cheating on him for literal years when they were married so see if he'd crack. Every time he tried he always pussies out and bothers Angus instead, having a better time with giving him shit XD

Omg I feel like I'm kinder to Franny now, what are y'all doing to me?!

[stinkrascal]

🌲🐻

TRANSCRIPT

picture one breanna: we finally made it! no bears neither! lucien: that's good. glad y'all are having fun.

picture two lucien: sorry we couldn't make it. breanna: it's okay, i understand! poor bonnie probably don't wanna waddle around the woods.

picture three breanna: y'know, when i was pregnant with y'all, i don't think i left the house, not even once. vladislaus: [ chuckles ] mostly, you slept. breanna: no shit, huh? that sounds right.

picture four breanna: the kids are having fun though! ilya said he's disappointed he ain't seen no bears—he's so rascally! lucien: they're hibernating, this time of the year.

picture five breanna: really? you're just like your papa, lu, you know all kinds of things. maybe when the baby's here we can go to the beach! does bonnie like the beach?

picture six breanna: where's bonnie?! is she around? i wanna talk to her! bonnie: hi, mrs. brie. breanna: hi bonnie! i miss you! we all miss you! bonnie: t-thank you.

picture seven breanna: next time we go on vacation, i'm taking you with us! we can hang out, and i'll make vlad watch the baby, so don't even worry about that! vladislaus: volunteering my time again, are you, my dear? breanna: yes, but it's a good cause this time, promise! vladislaus: hmm.

picture eight breanna: so whatcha doing? bonnie: playing with the cats. breanna: aww, i'm jealous! lucien: don't be, they stink. y'all got any plans for tonight? breanna: i'm gonna drink so much beer! lucien: nice, ma.

picture nine bonnie: [ sighs ] now i'm jealous. breanna: don't be! it tastes like shit! you want a beer, vladdy? vladislaus: i am okay. breanna: aww, you sure? vladislaus: indeed. try not to become too inebriated, my love.

picture ten breanna: ha! me? no way! never! hey, bonnie, after you give birth, i'm gonna give you the biggest bottle of wine i got, promise! bonnie: thank you. that would be nice.

picture eleven breanna: hey, bonnie, do you smoke? after the baby's here, you wanna blow down? bonnie: no, ma'am, i don't smoke. lucien: could you please try not to drug my wife, ma?

picture twelve breanna: aww, don't say it like that! you make it sound so bad. lucien: uhuh. so, did gen, carlile, and nikolai come with y'all?

picture thirteen breanna: oh, nope, just the twins and ilya. annie and klaus brought some of their friends too! i like them, they're nice, especially that tall boy. vladislaus: the loud one needs to mind himself. breanna: who, vaughn? i think he's nice! vladislaus: he is a nuisance. breanna: all teenage boys are!

picture fourteen lucien: sounds like fun. y'all gonna cook tonight? vladislaus: I am cooking, yes. breanna: yeah! we got a buncha food for the weekend! y'all are all so pciky. dunno where you get it from! [ laughs ] vladislaus: indeed, i cannot imagine where our children have acquired such a trait, my love.

picture fifteen breanna: [ laughs harder ] i know! crazy, huh! i'm gonna go help your dad cook—actually, i might call nikolai. have you talked to him any? lucien: nope. breanna: he don't never pick up his phone! lucien: text him, he'll get back to you in three to five business days. breanna: ha! good one!

picture sixteen breanna: oh, you know what! i gotta text carlile back! i ain't never replied! lucien: sounds good, ma. breanna: okay, bye for real this time! love y'all! lucien: love you too. bye. [ hangs up ] god, she talks forever.

picture seventeen bonnie: i like your mom. she's nice. lucien: yeah, makes it impossible to hang up though. did you do anything fun today? bonnie: no. not really.

picture eighteen lucien: did you talk to your internet friends? bonnie: i don't talk to them anymore. lucien: why not? bonnie: [ shrugs ] lucien: there's a writing circle at the community college, you should go.

picture nineteen bonnie: ...i don't know. lucien: you'd have a lot of fun, i'm sure, and you could make some friends too.

picture twenty bonnie: ...maybe. lucien: yeah? bonnie: [ nods ] mmhmm.

picture twenty-one bonnie: i'm tired. i'm gonna take a nap. lucien: oh. okay. ...are you feeling alright? bonnie: mmhmm. lucien: okay... sleep well. bonnie: [ yawns ] thank you.

[mobilis-in-mobili]

Kurt Cobain's Suicide Note (5 April, 1994)

To Boddah

Speaking from the tongue of an experienced simpleton who obviously would rather be an emasculated, infantile complain-ee. This note should be pretty easy to understand.

All the warnings from the punk rock 101 courses over the years, since my first introduction to the, shall we say, ethics involved with independence and the embracement of your community has proven to be very true. I haven't felt the excitement of listening to as well as creating music along with reading and writing for too many years now. I feel guity beyond words about these things.

For example when we're back stage and the lights go out and the manic roar of the crowds begins, it doesn't affect me the way in which it did for Freddie Mercury, who seemed to love, relish in the the love and adoration from the crowd which is something I totally admire and envy. The fact is, I can't fool you, any one of you. It simply isn't fair to you or me. The worst crime I can think of would be to rip people off by faking it and pretending as if I'm having 100% fun. Sometimes I feel as if I should have a punch-in time clock before I walk out on stage. I've tried everything within my power to appreciate it (and I do, God, believe me I do, but it's not enough). I appreciate the fact that I and we have affected and entertained a lot of people. It must be one of those narcissists who only appreciate things when they're gone. I'm too sensitive. I need to be slightly numb in order to regain the enthusiasms I once had as a child.

On our last 3 tours, I've had a much better appreciation for all the people I've known personally, and as fans of our music, but I still can't get over the frustration, the guilt and empathy I have for everyone. There's good in all of us and I think I simply love people too much, so much that it makes me feel too fucking sad. The sad little, sensitive, unappreciative, Pisces, Jesus man. Why don't you just enjoy it? I don't know!

I have a goddess of a wife who sweats ambition and empathy and a daughter who reminds me too much of what i used to be, full of love and joy, kissing every person she meets because everyone is good and will do her no harm. And that terrifies me to the point to where I can barely function. I can't stand the thought of Frances becoming the miserable, self-destructive, death rocker that I've become.

I have it good, very good, and I'm grateful, but since the age of seven, I've become hateful towards all humans in general. Only because it seems so easy for people to get along that have empathy. Only because I love and feel sorry for people too much I guess.

Thank you all from the pit of my burning, nauseous stomach for your letters and concern during the past years. I'm too much of an erratic, moody baby! I don't have the passion anymore, and so remember, it's better to burn out than to fade away.

Peace, love, empathy. Kurt Cobain

Frances and Courtney, I'll be at your altar. Please keep going Courtney, for Frances. For her life, which will be so much happier without me.

I LOVE YOU, I LOVE YOU!

[ass-deep-in-demons]

I love Domhall Gleeson so much, you have no idea!!! 😱😍😭❤️ I was already super interested in your wonderfully conceived Derufin before, and now I'm even more determined to bring him into my AU with a significant role! With your permission, of course!

I know he's technically canon, but the character is one of those blank slates that makes him practically an OC (in my view, anyway). When you have the time, could you please give me an info dump of everything you've created for him, as much as you are comfortable sharing? If you don't mind! :)

And speaking of fancasting, is his father Duinhir played by Brendan Gleeson by any chance? 😂

PS. Have fun with BG3! I haven't played it myself, but my sister spent a solid amount of time being lost to that game too. So I understand the fixation. 😂

Thank you so much for sending this ask @sotwk! And thank you for your infinite patience, unfortunately my new job has been hectic so I've had to delay forming a replay, but HERE WE GO!

The second I read your idea about Brendan Gleeson being Duinhir it immediately became my canon also <3.

There are some things about the Derufin/Morwen/Boromir triangle that I've cut out from Under Our Darkening Skies.

"When Lady Morwen had first arrived in Minas Tirith, she had wasted no time to approach Boromir and subtly prodded him on his designs regarding marriage. He was, after all, the most sought after bachelor in Gondor. A bachelor still, in his late thirties, to his father’s eternal chagrin. In response, the Steward’s Heir equally gently had let slip that he had not been planning to take a wife, and she had quickly pranced off to the greener pastures that the City offered."

Because of Morwen initially setting her sights on Boromir (I mean duh), Derufin is still to this day reluctant to make his feelings for her known. He thinks Morwen still prefers Boromir. In reality Morwen's making a pass on Boromir back then had been dictated more by her youthful ambition than any real feelings for him or even any genuine regard. So, Derufin, grow a pair and just ask her out already!!!

Some more trivia:

Derufin's older brother Duilin is prone to brooding and melancholy while Derufin is the funny, carefree one.

Derufin's love for Lady Morwen is rivalled only by his love for his finely made and custom-decorated yew longbow - a gift from Lord Steward given for Derufin's knighting. He has, of course, named the bow after the Lady. Boromir groans loudly whenever he's reminded of it. Derufin is so so so cringe about his bow but also INSANELY good at archery.

Derufin is one of the few people who know about Boromir's fling with the Archivist. He found out accidentally (and has been wishing to erase the image from his brain ever since).

Derufin is actually not the only member of Boromir and Faramir's friend group from their youth. The "pack", aside from Boromir, Faramir, Derufin and Duilin, also included Hirluin the Fair (nicknamed Pretty Boy by Derufin). Faramir befriended Hirluin when he squired in under Hador, the Lord of Pinnath Gelin. Hirluin (who has as of 3018 TE succeeded his late father) is a ladies man and a party animal, so his friendship with Faramir is an unlikely one. However, their bond is strong because of the shared memories from their youth.

I dread what will become of these babies during the Battle of Pelennor. Just know that I am out od my mind and I can promise nothing :D

[holfelderwrites124]

Thanks for the tag @illarian-rambling

Writer Questions

What is your absolute all-time favorite idea you’ve ever had?

It has to be sczhieldengoethe. It's a torture spell, that imbues the victim with intense magical pain just by gentle touches from the spell-caster. It causes no immediate damage to the person, and won't transfer along a blood shimmer link. It will eventually start to fry the nervous system of the victim, however, and can leave the victim with intense pain spasms and lingering chronic pain. Why is this my favorite idea? Because it's the idea that spawned me writing original fiction again. I was struggling with fibromyalgia at the time and wanted to torture my blorbo with something that was similar to the phantom but deadly pain of fibro. Once I wrote 65k in the fanfic universe, I decided that I adored the story and needed it to be original. Thus, Euwenn Gilmore was born, and the Unbreakable Series began! (Get The Curse and some fun stickers here!)

Is there a question you’ve been asked in the past that really stands out to you, and you still think about sometimes?

I can't think of a question that really stuck with me, but I can think of a question that spawned an entirely new book. Does that count? A beta asked me if the genders and sexualities of my characters really mattered in terms of the plot, because it felt unnecessary. This caused me to 1) recognize that not every beta is correct for every story, and then 2) to write a prequel. Because in truth, their gender and sexualities are important, just not to the second book. They are integral to the prequel, though, and to how the characters get together and become who they are by the time they reach the second book. (Check out Severed Threads, the result of this comment!)

What is your favorite part of being a writer? What parts could you take or leave?

Favorite part? Literally everything. I adore pantsing the hell out of my stories, plotting out scenes in my head to determine, even the actual typing. I find tippy-tapping, as my wife and I call it when I'm writing, to be just as therapeutic for the physical clicking and clacking of the keyboard as it is for the creative process. I think the one thing I would get rid of is the "oh I wrote a thing and now I have to market it" bullshit. Why can't I just let my children fly into the world and that be enough????

What is your greatest motivation to write/create?

Writing is extremely therapeutic for me. I find delving into characters and plots allows me control in a way that I understand I can't have IRL. I can project onto my characters, let them experience and heal from trauma. Plus, creativity is soul-cleansing for me. If I have done nothing else in the day, but I have created? Then I have done something worthwhile.

What is the best piece of advice you’ve ever read or been given as a writer?

There's a reader for every story. No matter how niche your story is, there's someone out there who needs to read it.

What do you wish you knew when you were first starting out writing?

You're actually pretty good at this. I started writing as a kid. Somewhere around 15 I decided that I was terrible, wasn't going to make it as a writer, and that having my friends in my head was "bad". (Baby me had some Issues.) Around ten years later, I got back into fanfic, and then eventually, original fiction. I recently reread the story I was working on (the original iteration of the Severed Threads gang) and I was like .... for a 15 year old? That shit was good. I wonder where I'd be if I had kept practicing and writing and exploring those lost ten years?

What is your favorite story you’ve written to completion? Link it if you’d like and can!

Honestly, right now it's got to be Finding Home. It's my most recent publication and I just love the story. Check out the back cover on my website, search it on amazon, OR OR OR buy it on my website and get some themed stickers and a bookmark :)

Which of your characters would you say has the most controversial mindset? Why do you say so, and how do you personally feel about their ideals?

Uhhhhh ... probably one of my villains, tbh. Most of my main characters are pretty non-controversial. I mean, I'd probably say Alabaster, since she's my main villain in the Unbreakable series trilogy bit (The Curse, The Rescue, and Alabaster's Revenge). I'd say she's a bit controversial because she's been wronged. She's been wronged by the plain (non mangical) police, who killed her son. No one has listened to her pleas, her ideas, her desires. But the way she takes that and twists it into reasons for revenge and murder ... well. Yeah.

If you, when you first started writing, met you now, what would younger you think?

Oh, she would be THRILLED. I always wanted to be a writer, to do something with this huge imagination that I have. :) She would be so excited for me!

I'll tag (no pressure -- only if you want to) @lofiyaketyblr, @frostedlemonwriter, and @goodluckclove and anyone else who wants in :)

[demon-of-the-ancient-world]

Dune: Messiah told by John Mulaney quotes

"I don't know if you've been following the news, but it seems like everyone everywhere is super mad about everything all the time."

"Hey, do you want me to kill that guy for you?"

"He then began a sentence the way anyone would: 'Aaahhhhhh!'"

"My wife is a bitch and I like her so much"

"He was a man most acquainted with misery"

"So my girlfriend is female and then I have all these female friends, so I thought 'oh great, they'll all be friends.' Nope!"

"I was lying. It was a lie. To get drugs. You know, like a crime?"

"Today I met a boy with no eyes..."

"So this could be an office. Or maybe a nursery."

"She studies me, like an anthropologist"

"Then you go to brunch with people and they're like, 'there shouldn't be a horse in the hospital!!' and it's like. We're well past that."

"Famous people are all weird as shit, your suspicions are correct"

"...I think I'm becoming more like my mom"

"That's not how you act when you don't recognize somebody, if I had amnesia you'd never know it"

"And I also don't want me to be doing what I'm doing"

"My wife's ticket didn't say anything but mine said 'priority access', it doesn't matter why"

"I'm 35 and have no children and she doesn't understand my career"

"Now when people make fun of me I deserve it"

"Any story about you might be true and even you don't know anymore"

"So we go into the church and I was like 'I got this under control'. But then I got schooled, because they introduced a bunch of new shit"

"It was like that scene in Ratatouille when the humans come in the kitchen and all the rats run in different directions"

"Is the horse...smart?"

"This summer, love is spelt with two eyes"

"In terms of instant relief, cancelling plans is like heroin"

"What was that town meeting like?"

"He can do that??!?"

"...so I don't drink anymore"

"Then it is revealed that she has no plan"

"Do you know what to say when a baby points at you and knowingly says 'he has a penis' ?"

"Nobody will ever see me again, goodbye!"

[loominggaia]

razzek

If this doesn't end in 100% Itchy, those pollsters are lying. XD

niittinaatti

I'm gonna go with Morbus, putting your crush's wife in a coma and trying to persuade him into having her euthanized is pretty hard to forgive

kid-az

Boy do I regret not picking Morbus after remembering just what happened in Love Poison….. Skel is an ass but atleast he wouldn’t do THAT!

aveture

Ah I forgot about morbus and the love poison. Can I change my answer to that?

kid-az asked:

No joke I actually really loved Morbus as a character until Love Potion. After that all I want is for her cats to leave her and be adopted by better people and her being unable to find a cure for her outwards appearance being (Half) as nasty as she is on the inside.

-- -- --

These are all good points! I think in the name of fairness, we should have a break down of each candidate's most punch-worthy actions...

Itchy: "Allegedly" fucked a goat, burglarized homes, mugged people at knife-point, calls people slurs, assaulted an elderly person unprovoked, various peeping-tom behaviors, straight up murdered a dryad once, stole a horse from a soldier.

COUNTERPOINT: He has poor impulse control due to brain damage, some of these behaviors are not really his fault. Once he understands what he's done wrong, he usually feels bad and tries to make up for it. Usually. He's very capable of love and empathy for others, he just doesn't show it at the appropriate times.

Lukas: Murdered his own mother, is verbally and sometimes physically abusive to his crewmen, almost axe-murdered his best friend while drunk, victim-blamed a crewman who was sexually assaulted, tried to goad Zeffer into suicide and then hired an assassin to take him out when he refused.

COUNTERPOINT: Lukas acts the way he does due to immense trauma, and he's fully aware that his behavior is unacceptable. Recently in the series he has expressed remorse and taken steps to become a nicer, more empathetic person. He takes full responsibility for the pain he's caused others and doesn't make excuses for it. He is ashamed of his nasty behavior and is trying to understand why he acts the way he does, so that he doesn't keep repeating his mistakes.

Gwyneth: Cheats on, takes advantage of, and abuses her "husband" Brogan, extremely greedy and miserly, regularly insults people for no reason, flirts with married women and tries to break up marriages.

COUNTERPOINT: Gwyneth has endured the horrors of retail for decades. 'Nuff said. (Just kidding...In reality, she was kidnapped by slavers and quickly learned that the world is brutal and unforgiving, so she fears showing any sign of weakness or tenderness towards others. Bad experiences in her life have hardened her. She was probably aloof to begin with, but the experience of being kidnapped kind of "broke" her emotionally.)

Skel: Racist, misogynistic, classist, arguably transphobic, almost abandoned his crewman Jeimos in a hostile territory, verbally abusive to his crew and everyone around him, general asshole behavior.

COUNTERPOINT: Much of Skel's bigotry is hypocritical, and it's apparent by his contradictory thoughts and behaviors that he's quite mentally ill. His actions are much kinder than his words, and he performs these kind actions in secrecy, as if afraid to show any kind of "weakness" in front of others. Much of his hostile behavior is due to untreated mental problems.

Frederick: Literally stole candy from a baby, physically assaults people (including his own father) to get what he wants, acts arrogant and defiant, bullies others for fun.

COUNTERPOINT: Frederick is young and most of these behaviors are a result of bad parenting on his father's part. As he grew into his teens, Frederick started realizing this behavior wasn't getting him anywhere in life and promised to change. He has shown gradual positive changes ever since, though he does still slip back into his bullying ways from time to time.

Morbus: Neglected her son in favor of her career, abandoned her family, sold harmful drugs for decades, fetishizes and sexually harasses male satyrs, acts sexually aggressive towards Che, verbally abuses just about everyone, poisoned Philippa into a coma out of jealousy, forces her pets to live in her nasty hoard, generally snotty, selfish, and rude behavior.

COUNTERPOINT: I think it's obvious that Morbus is very, very mentally ill. This woman has been spiraling into Hell for over a century, completely untreated, and all the fumes from her alchemy career probably didn't help. I think some of her behavior is just due to her shitty upbringing, and she probably is a bit of a selfish bitch at her healthiest. But I also think her more extreme behaviors are the result of sickness and trauma that were left unchecked for way too long. To her credit--and this is a big deal imo--she does display some empathy and usually rights her wrongs eventually...granted, she'll reach the point of nearly killing someone before she does, but tends to shape up at the very last minute and save them from herself. She also apologizes for her actions once her conscience beats her over the head hard enough, showing that she's not a total psychopath. Morbus is undoubtedly a despicable individual, but it's hard to say how much of that behavior is really within her control. She gives the impression that she's been fighting a horde of personal demons all her life...and she's not winning.

With all that said, if you haven't voted yet, you still have 6 days to do so! ---> Poll Here <---

*

Questions/Comments?

Lore Masterpost

Read the Series

[gravitywonagain]

Ok, but the whole Wen Qing sacrificial Au is like one big clusterfuck. And Wei Wuxian wouldn't know shit about the functions of his own new body. And what if the eyes of the body change color as a reaction to the new soul inhibiting it. He would have monthly bleedings! He would have to deal with cramps and fuck! He would understand so much more about his Shijie and Madame Yu!

Also correlating with the homecoming gift, what if she found a way to package her knowledge as a gift and Wei Wuxian now understands so much better why Wen Qing was so pissed about his disregard for his own health all the time. And he starts to connect that knowledge and know-how to develop his talismans and cultivation further!

How would Lan Wangji react to see the Wen doctor again, only for her to paralyze him after a fight with a monster where Lan Wangji just was not at his best, and actually check him over as if it was the most normal thing to do. What if Wei Wuxian went on and found a way to heal the scars on Lan Zhan's back to a degree where it's not visible anymore unless you know to search for it.

And he would get suibian back as soon as possible and fly with it. He would have his sword back. And if people ask he would just flippantly say that it only responds to people Wei Wuxian trusts and held dear to his heart.

Ah, sorry about my rambling, I have brain rot about this thing now. And I had a WIP where I was leaning on the aspect that Wei Wuxian was the son of a servant and had servant skills as well... You make me more work ^^'

yessss i love the rambling!!! i see the next one, too!!! sorry it took me a minute there was brain fog and then wife birthday daytripping and then many sleeps and now we're here

i am now a little bit obsessed with the idea of wq somehow passing on her vast amounts of medical cultivation knowledge to wwx. or at least imparting enough of it that he can do nonsense wwx innovation shit. something something the formation and structure of her core is built around the use of certain skills and techniques and this might have happened with mxy too but all of his previous knowledge was based off of wwx's own.................. yeah. fascinating. fun. i love it.

also the idea of wwx actually trying to pull of just being wq -- at least in public because there's no way he gets away with that around lwj -- is patently hilarious to me. but also! who knows her better than wwx and wn anyway? who else could possibly pull that off if not them? also i do love the shenanigans that ensue in a good identity porn fic.

okay so if i'm being very honest, half the reason for this au even popping up in my head is that i, like @jasontoddiefor, love a good genderswapped resurrection fic specifically because all of the nonsense that comes with having a uterus. (and also the idea of wangxian biological babies, like hell yes, their breeding kink dreams can become a reality, but also only if they try hard enough because actual conception can be fucking difficult!) and yes, after the years of malnutrition and general anxiety of living under threat finally starts to recede, wwx gets to deal with a whole new set of problems! lucky boy.

as for lan yuan, i feel like he might be grateful to see his qing-jie's face again, even though he's forgotten it, but would then mourn her presence and his xian-gege's face. it would be rough for him. moreso than with mxy because wq's face mixed with wwx's mannerisms might actually trigger some more memories earlier? idk, what do you think?

ALSO. i can't get over lwj figuring out how to marry wq without arousing the suspicion of the entire cultivation world. like this is early in my head. this happens just a few years after wwx dies. so a lot of The Nonsense hasn't happened yet. he gets out of seclusion and then immediately goes for the next worst person imaginable? the escaped but somehow not dead last daughter of the wen? lqr would have a fit. lxc would be confused as hell. jc would be furious and hurt and so even more furious. nhs would, probably, figure it out pretty quickly, as would jgy, and now the race is on. like this would be such a political nightmare and i'm living for it!!

[booboodaddysblog]

Argument

Some of you have asked how James met Roberta....

Roberta is Italian and came to the hotel because she found a job offer "Hotel Cortez is looking for someone to work in marketing". On the day Roberta toured the hotel, James appeared to her and began showing her around the hotel. He was delighted with her, and she with him. Love developed very quickly! They do not always get along in everything, but James will do anything not to lose his beloved!

Mr.March: Oh Darling you are a revelation to me! You give me so much happiness!

Roberta: Of course im a revelation and you chose the best!

Mr.March: My choices are always the best, I mean they are usually the best…

Roberta: Maybe your first choice for your wedding wasnt right, but then you found me and everything changed!

Mr.March: Wedding?! We need to talk about it again! Something makes me feel like having a new Mrs. March. The previous one does not meet my expectations, she likes to betray me…

Roberta: And what have you thought?! Are you saying that I can also betray you?!

Mr.March: You? I have no idea! It's up to you. I still have a wife because I can't divorce her because I am a GHOST! After my death she inherited everything that once belonged to me.... Even when you become the new Mrs. March, I will not be able to give you anything more but myself…

Roberta: My darling, I want only you for me, that's it! I don't need your belongings and your wife don't understand what she has lost! Such a gentleman as you!

Mr.March: She didn't care about me, but about what I have. You know yourself how she is. I am glad that you appreciate how I am, leaving aside my passions…

Roberta: For me you are just James, nothing more! Tonight love is in the air! No argue…

Mr.March: Thank you for talking to me so nicely. I don't feel like arguing today, although I did earlier. I got over it as soon as you smiled at me!

Roberta: I will smile to you always, my dear! I don't want to argue, but I'm going to ask you something...

Mr.March: Yes? Dearest, ask anything you want!

Roberta: Ehm... how do I ask you?!... hmmmm... I need… I need to go outside tonight, again…

Mr.March: Well, so you want to argue though... and it was so nice! You ruined it!

Roberta: But why?! I don't want to argue, you do! You have me every day, one night shouldn't make a difference!

Mr.March: I won't keep you because I don't want to get upset anymore today. You want to go, go.... have fun! I will even open the door for you..

Roberta: Oooh finally! Thank you my dearest! Don't be upset, I will come back soon!

Mr.March: Come back when you want....

Roberta: Are you going to wait for me all night? Tonight you don't have works to do?!

Mr.March: No, my only plan for today was YOU! I'm going to walk around the hotel, smoke a cigarette and think about, I don't know what…. Why do you ask?

Roberta: Can I be your plan tomorrow?! Please! I'm asking because I care about you and your business!

Mr.March: Very funny! You care about my business! Don't make fun of me! You don't have to care about what I do!

Roberta: Are you threatening me, darling? I'm not afraid of you! You can see that I do what I want!

Mr.March: No, I'm not threatening you! I don't even want to! I have more interesting things to do! For example, I can have a drink! I won't waste my energy on threatening you....

Roberta: You are such a baby when you don't get what you wants! And I'm not going to waste my time with you tonight too, you are so annoying and obsessive! Drink as much as you like! You are a ghost you are not going to get high so you'll remember everything! Even every bad word you said!

Mr.March: I wonder who started this pointless argument?! You provoked it! I'm jealous because I'm in love and that's the problem! No, the fact that I am in love is not the problem! The problem is that I'm trying to be nice to you, I care about you! And you leave me!

Roberta: All this for a one night out! The problem is YOU and your jealousy… and yes I want to be honest… I'm going to meet a guy tonight! You know that I love you, it's just a simple meet, two friends who hung out... that's it! I need my space!!

Mr.March: Oh good to know that you LOVE me! Therefore, you go to meet another guy! Fascinating! And just a moment ago we were talking about marriage!

Roberta: See, your fury is going to eat you! I want you to be a modern boyfriend, and leave me some fresh air! And I'm ready to marry you, I said, I really love you! But you know it isn't always easy to be with a ghost who is entrapped in a hotel!

Mr.March: All I hear in this whole speech is about how bad it is for you and that you have a "but" when it comes to marriage though! It's sad. I myself don't know what to think about it anymore! I thought you had everything, but from what I hear, however, this is not the case!

Roberta: Your ego is bigger than the whole world sometimes, my darling, and you don't see the reality as it is! I enjoy to be with you, very much, but I'm only asking you one thing…. you are overreacting!

Mr.March: Me overreacting? Me overreacting?! Maybe I’m, but that's just the way I am. You know that from the very beginning and you’re still in this relationship! You know very well that I don't keep you here by force! I opened the door for you and you didn't come out! I consider myself a GOD because no one can stop me!

Roberta: You don't keep me here by force?! I have to remember what you said to me? ”I MAY NEVER LET YOU GO!” So... But I'm GLAD to be with you, I don't have any other way to tell you this!! How much I want to slap you right now to punish you!

Mr.March: I remember perfectly what I said! I have too good memory! You can beat me as much as you want and I won't defend myself! I will surrender to you since it makes you happy! You have it too good with me!

Roberta: So what are we going to do now since my meet has been cancelled? Because of you, of course… but I preferred YOU, and it will always be like this... I’m telling you that I love you in all the way possible but you always yell at me!

Mr.March: Yes, because apparently there was a need! You provoked me! You know me and I wonder if you are doing this on purpose?! On purpose to piss me off! I think you should go to bed. I won't sleep tonight. I need to take a walk and smoke at least three cigarettes to calm down!

Roberta: Maybe I like when you get jealous, yes, I like it! But I didn't think we could arrive at this point, my love! Come on, forgive mee... And don't smoke too much… I don't like it when I smell cigarettes from you…

Mr.March: Dearest! Is it not YOU who arouses jealousy in me and demands that I behave differently? Or is it someone else doing it? Am I wrong?!

Roberta: Yes it was me! I love your jealousy, but I hate your obsessive manners, sometimes. So I provoked you, because I want to change this aspect of yours! And I won't stop until you will start respect my needs! Just one need!

Mr.March: We talk about you all the time... well, what about me? Do I have the right to expect something from you?

Roberta: Yes you have the right, but you want me to oblige to everything you say! So what do you expect from me now?

Mr.March: You know very well what I want from you. I simply want you! I don't expect anything else!

Roberta: You know how to calm me down.... Although tonight I didn't want to argue with you again, but we always have an unresolved case…

Mr.March: Dearest! What unresolved case again? Are we still talking about you wanting to leave the hotel and meet some guy? Or something else?

Roberta: Of course! It's my right and I don’t leave the hotel to meet some guys, I have also friends, my darling. But I don't want to argue! I miss you!

Mr.March: I'm also tired of these pointless arguments. Just keep me informed of your plans. Just don't do it when you're already about to leave. Because that makes me nervous. I like to mentally set myself up for being left alone…

Roberta: Mmmh we need to revise this deal… And I said, I missed you, what about you? Did you miss me?

Mr.March: You know very well that I miss you when you leave the hotel. I usually try to work when I'm alone, but I keep thinking about you and can't focus. Here is my answer…

Roberta: You know exactly how to melt my everything! But being alone increases love. I know that now, you love me more than yesterday!

Mr.March: I don't know if being alone intensifies my love for you, more my longing... and sadness. I have to get used to the fact that you will leave me more and more often, until you finally leave forever…

Roberta: So you don’t let me go out because you have fear to lose me? I won’t go anywhere, I swear! My love for you is bigger then the planet Earth! And the more I desire you, the more I love you, that’s how it works! So, separation is sometimes important…

Mr.March: I've thought it all through, and from now on, I will approach it with detachment.. I'm not going to stop you. You are not my bird in a golden cage. I can't lock you up. Although I would like to... You have the right to live and do what you want…

Roberta: Yes, of course you are not going to stop me!! But if I only try to get a step outside the hotel you begin to act as a FOOL! I am declaring my love to you, and you think only of yourself! So selfish!

Mr.March: Why don't you listen to me with understanding.... from this day forward I will not stop you or say anything when you want to leave.... do what you want...

Roberta: I listen to you with understanding, MY DEAREST, but your words are different from the way you act, thats it! And I think I’m done with the conversation now.. These days I’m having a hard time tolerating your temper. I will do what I want…

Mr.March: Good! I think we need a few days of rest from each other. I'll take care of my business and you take care of yours. We argue too often. And it's not nice… I don't want to lose you…

Roberta: Okay! As my lovely man desires! But I hope you will come begging me!

Mr.March: I prefer when you beg me… but this time it will be me, I sacrifice myself and fall to my knees before you!

Roberta: I am always submissive to you! So now it's your turn to sacrifice yourself for me!

————————————————————————

There will be more!

If you like it let me know by ❤️

@robnovetre ♥️

[violets-in-her-arms-writes]

This or That? Tag

Thank you for tagging me @writernopal ! You can find her post here, go read it ! 💜 I had a lot of fun developing the answers, sorry if it's all over the place ^^

|| HISTORICAL or FUTURISTIC ||

I love to read historical novels but writing them is waaaayyy above my competence level and I know I would get lost in the research part of it instead of, you know, actually, writing it. So futuristic it is because I can bullshit my way through it.

|| OPENING or CLOSING CHAPTER ||

CLOSING CHAPTER!!! I can't wait to get to the one in La Fledgling! I'm gonna break my own heart, it's going to be great!

|| LIGHT+FLUFFY or DARK+GRITTY ||

I wish I could write light and fluffy things but I can't. It might be pathological at this point. I tried to write a fluffy mermaid AU and Lou drowned in the first chapter, so now I give up. I'll accept my fate.

|| ANIMAL COMPANION or FOUND FAMILY ||

I have to choose animal companion because one of my favourite character (Lorelei, immortal witch, high priestess of Némésis goddess of revenge) has a familiar named Doll. It's a raven who believes himself to be a bird of prey but is actually just... broken. It once tried to incubate a skunk and to eat a cat, so. He can't see windows and can cut through steel with his beak (through sheer determination and will). I love it with all my heart. I've only had him for twelve years, but if anything ever happened to him, I would kill to get him back 🤺🤺🤺

|| HORROR or ROMANCE ||

Romance that becomes horrifying, where you would do anything for your partner, even betraying your values and your faith, to the point where you can't recognize the person looking at you through the mirror. Or where your lover becomes something other and you're not sure how to love her anymore.

(On this not, there's a great novel Our Wives Under the Sea by Julia Armfield where one of the woman is marine biologist and comes back to her wife *wrong* after six months lost at sea. It's terrifying, it's great!)

|| HARD MAGIC SYSTEM or SOFT MAGIC SYSTEM ||

Fuck rules. Do whatever you want! Why do dragons exist in my world? Because the god of poison had children with a crocodile metamorph and she gave birth to the dragons, next question! Why is Lorelei's magic different from the others'? Because she's OP and I love her and she's my chosen one! Why can Jo [REDACTED] because. That's it. That's my justification. I do what I want as long as it's fun 💃‍

|| STANDALONE or SERIES ||

I always say I'm gonna write a standalone and I rarely succeed. I blame it on my favourite books I read as a child which were all super long series with like 50 books in it, spanning generations and thousands of years (hi Heralds of Valdemar and The ballad of Pern) I also blame them for making me write dragons and over-powered women. I love you, you're the best, mwah!

|| ONE PROJECT AT A TIME or ALWAYS JUGGLING 2+ ||

I'm always switching between WIPs depending on my mood and my motivation. I can put aside a project for months (hi book 3 of WsT... I'm coming back for you baby, I'm coming back for you!), start three new WIPs, and then go back to one of my ancients projects. Every time I try to persuade myself to only work on one thing I get frustrated and end up not writing at all so I just let my creativity take me wherever. I'm not even a passenger anymore, I'm stuck in the trunk of the car, scribbling madly and trying to understand what's going on. It's not going well.

|| ON AWARD WINNER or ONE BESTSELLER ||

I don't really care about awards. Like sure it'd be nice to know critics and judges liked mu book enough to give me a Hugo or a Nebula or whatever, but what I really want is for *actual people* to love my stories. I hope I can touch at least one person with my silly little characters and their struggles. (Also, I want the fanfics and the fan-arts 😂)

|| FANTASY OR SCI-FI ||

I love sci-fi, especially sci-fi stories where humanity has to leave earth and terraform/colonize other planets, I love exodus. I also love to just write whatever like an archeology student getting kidnapped but an alien sect because they think she can resurrect their leader. And I love fantasy because I love swords, and dragons, and magic, and lesbians (and lesbian dragon shapeshifters with a sword), and prophecies. I love being able to craft a world and society and to just... have fun.

|| CHARACTER DESCRIPTION or SETTING DESCRIPTION ||

I don't do it enough, but I love setting descriptions because it helps paint a picture and you can leave little nuggets of foreshadowing in it. (You can also do it with character description but I think I might be too obvious when I do that XD)

|| FIRST DRAFT or FINAL DRAFT ||

First draft is a pain in the ass but I actually love the process of figuring out what the fuck is going on, who the characters are, what they want, what they need. It's like getting to know someone but sudoku like. If you don't put the numbers in the right order you understand nothing. (It's a bad comparison, I hate sudoku, but you get what I mean). Also, what the fuck is a final draft? I've never met her. i always want to change something even after I'm done. Which is also why publishing scares me so much : what if I want to change something and can't because it's already been printed? Nightmare 😱

|| LOVE TRIANGLE IN EVERYTHING or NO ROMANTIC ARCS ||

I'd rather have no romantic arc ever again than suffer through a poorly written love triangle once again. I'm tired of love triangles. Be original at least and give me a love octagon or something. I don't know dude, make one of them die in a war, her wife mourns then starts dating again and then, she comes back after being MIA for years. Don't make it bland between the dark-haired bad boy and the blond boy next door, please I'm begging you. And if you really can't write any other romance, then please just give me an action novel or a fantasy novel or a horror novel without any romance. Please. No more love triangles.

|| CONSTANT SANDSTORM or RAINSTORM ||

Rainstorm if I'm inside! It's so soothing, especially at night. I love thunder and lightning, I love being comfy in my bed, listening to the rain 🥰

Gently tagging @liv-is, @ladyniniane & @autumnalwalker if you haven't done it yet 😊

[johannadc]

Do you help with finding fic?

If you do I am searching for one for years and still can't find it. So I could take any help but if you don't sorry for bothering you.

This fic was about Mycroft wanting a child to be next in line in Holmes family. He tell this to all Sherlock people and this really upset Greg because he really wanted to be a father and tried with his now ex-wife they ever wanted to try IVF and/or adopt but couldn't and now Mycroft going to have a baby only because he want to have another Holmes .

And I remember that at the end they obviously get together but at the beginning of thier relationship Greg was only helping Mycroft with his baby but this fic was more about Greg being upset and Mycroft who didn't fully understand that and then making him feel better.

I do try to find Mystrade fics! Wow, that's quite the query! (And my apologies for the delay in response.)

I'm not entirely sure this is the one you're looking for, but it's got some of the premise... in "The Want for an Heir" (143K words, E) by CinRose, Watchinginthedark (orphan_account), Mycroft is an omega who uses Greg to get pregnant, and the rest of the fic is them learning how to co-parent and growing closer. https://archiveofourown.org/works/624971

This one is similar but with more angst and drama. It's also not concluded but with 150K words there's plenty there. "A Mutually Beneficial Arrangement" (E, WIP) by immortalemrys has Omega Mycroft contracting with Greg to have a child; in return, Mycroft will get Greg custody of his children from his evil ex-wife. https://archiveofourown.org/works/2675585

Now let's go to non-ABO fics with one of my favorite tags, "Accidental Baby Acquisition".

In "The Light of My Life" (34K, T) by accidentallyonpurpose, Mycroft finds an abandoned baby while on a mission, and Greg provides some helpful parenting advice. Then they go on the run and pretend to be a couple (more fun tropes!). https://archiveofourown.org/works/6385345

In "The Sum Of Our Failings" (12K, T) by wintergrey, someone leaves a baby on Mycroft's doorstop, which leads him to a serial killer, then to a new understanding with Greg. https://archiveofourown.org/works/1076632

"And Goodnight to the British Government Whispering Hush" (18K, E, WIP) by LoveandScience has the BEST title! Also a grumpy Mycroft with an abandoned baby and a helpful DI Lestrade who wants to see Mycroft get some sleep and so helps mind the baby. Greg is the best kind of friend. https://archiveofourown.org/works/1499113

This one has no Greg but some lovely Holmes brothers moments, as Sherlock tries to help Mycroft get through unexpectedly becoming a single parent. "The Hidden Truth" (13K, G, WIP) by Honeybeebatch https://archiveofourown.org/works/9619190

This one doesn't fit any of the above but it's an additional Dad!Mycroft story I enjoyed.

Greg finds out Mycroft has kids when the younger one gets kidnapped in "Code Red: Canary" (3900 words, M) by HumsHappily. (WIP but what's there is perfectly satisfying on its own.) https://archiveofourown.org/works/43209366