#she's convinced she let that part of her die a long time ago

[wistrea]

headcanon : reputation.

one of the most important things about kira is despite her reputation throughout the realm of hiraeth as the feared chaos witch is the fact that she forges bonds with the people she meets and actually allows to get to know her.  the infamy of her reputation is usually from knights of the order,   or monarchs who she has intentionally crossed before,   even archmages of mage towers because she threatens their very order and challenges their hierarchy of power as chaos incarnate.

it’s no secret that there are many enemies who would not think twice to take a dagger to her back,  and she believes she has earned their ire.   there are even more who have decided to fear her,   not just because she is the only one who is able to wield the magic of primordial chaos    ( a magic that is not labelled as feared because such a feat was never thought possible )   but because she has shown time and time again that she knows how to use it.    a walking calamity,   they’ve called her.    a title that one can associate with the smirking figure on wanted posters.    but if you asked the smallfolk and passersby,  they’ll remember kira horikoshi more than the chaos witch,  and many will have a kind word towards one of the most feared witches in their history.

the people of her hometown defend her name with every breath because the horikoshi siblings have protected anmatsuri for centuries.   their land is at the very edge of the empire of hazakura,   tasked with killing the abyssal beasts that threaten them during the time when the moon was banished from the sky.   that was a tradition that kira and her brothers upheld even when their parents had passed,  and they were so young still,   taking up a responsibility of not only their family’s legacy,   but the stability of their entire land.   the people of anmatsuri remember her as the little girl who would join her parents and brothers to the town to help them with their tasks,   and now as the witch who had a hand in making sure they had food and stability,  performed shows of magic for children,   who would defend her name even as the order brands her as a maleficar.

kira has done a lot for mages,   especially young ones who’s powers could have harmed them and those around them because they lacked the means to learn from a proper magic institution or were taught to fear or even be ashamed of their innate gifts.   there are many children who would tell stories about the witch in a purple robe who taught them spells when she passed through their town,   who helped calm their nightmares by teaching them how to silence the voices that plagued them.    the witch who banished the fear they harbored towards the lights in their hand by showing them how the stars glittered the same way.   kira who would give them the very staff she carried in her hands as a gift,   patting the top of their head and telling them to use it well.  

regardless of how expensive the artifact was or how important,    she gives it to them in hopes that they will learn magic as much as it can love them.    she was lucky enough to have been born to a family that never once made her fear her magic,    but she knows there are so many kids out there who do,    and she genuinely wants to help them.     how many children who’s education in the isles of lore     ( the best circle of colleges in hiraeth )    was sponsored by her just so they could have a chance.

[ckret2]

So a while ago some friends were talking about fans who claim the Same Coin theory is canon. And I made the mistake of saying:

Do you know who also has tons in common with Bill? Mabel. Yet nobody claims Bill reincarnated as Mabel. …wait now I want a "same coin but it's Mabel" AU. Funniest Bill reincarnation option. The all-seeing arsonist is making macaroni glitter art. The omnipotent tyrant is crying because a unicorn called her a bad person.

And then I overthought it for two months.

So—AU where after death, Bill's soul shoots 13 years into the past and reincarnates as Mabel. I'll call it ✨ Sparkly Coin AU ✨

Don't leave yet. Lemme show you why it works. Behold the eerie amount of parallels in their personalities, dialogue, behavior, mannerisms, tastes...

I could have kept going but my attention span ran out. All right, we all on board now? Convinced we could segue from one personality into the other? Great. Now here's why you should be interested: the juicy post-Weirdmageddon angst potential.

As long as a small fringe of the fandom still thinks Weirdmageddon is Mabel's fault, why not amp that up x100 and have some fun with it?

Is everyone sold now? Great. Let's get into the details. I've got 8 more pieces of art under the read more.

So the AU starts the instant Bill dies. Thanks to invoking his deal with the Axolotl—one way to absolve his crime, a different form, a different time—the Axolotl gives him a new shape and shoots him thirteen years into the past. Apparently, the Axolotl thought it would be very funny to stick Bill in the family that defeated him.

Which probably made for a jarring transition.

(It's fine, she's like 10 minutes old, she probably can't even tell who she's looking at. Not being able to tell who she was looking at is what got her into this situation ayyyy)

When Dipper & Mabel come back from Gravity Falls complaining about this triangular jerk Bill, their parents mention that Dipper's name was nearly Bill. See, after they knew they were going to have a boy, one night their mom dreamed about a visitor—some kind of magic pink salamander??—calling her child "BILL." Then at the next sonogram they found out they were having twins, the girl must've been hidden at a weird angle the first time, and they wanted matching names, so they thought, Bill and Bell. But they didn't really like Bell; but eventually they stumbled on Mabel, so to keep the names matching they switched from Bill to Mason. Isn't that the darnedest thing?

(Of course, Mabel and Dipper assume Bill harassed their parents to try to trick them into naming a kid after him. To be a jerk.)

When Bill meets Mabel, he's unaware that she's his future self—Bill's notably bad at doing things like, say, double-checking to see whether he's going to die anytime soon—but like... he can tell something's up.

Naturally, before visiting Gravity Falls, there were echoes of who Mabel used to be—but nothing anyone would be able to identify without context. All her Bill-ish quirks either smoothed out with time (see: how between second grade and fourth grade Mabel went from being the "freak" to the popular girl in class), or else they were accepted by her family as Mabel-ish quirks.

After they meet (and kill) Bill, they have the context to understand some of Mabel's behaviors... and unfortunately, some of Mabel's latent Bill-ness starts surfacing after she's been directly exposed to her prior incarnation.

The part of the Pines family familiar with Bill thinks the worst case scenario is that maybe Bill's survived and is slowly possessing Mabel; but far more likely, they think this is just some weird way of trying to subconsciously process last summer. Mabel doesn't think she's being weird, you guys are being weird, stop giving her weird looks. They get attacked by one triangle and now she can't wear yellow or pick up macrame as a hobby??

(It's not all red flags and uncomfortable triangle imagery, though. When Stan asks her what she'd like as a gift for some important event, she shyly admits that she thinks she's starting to outgrow her plastic gem jewelry and maybe she's old enough to get her first piece of real gold jewelry, if that's not too expensive? And Stan's never been so proud of her. Thirteen years old and already thinking about buying gold!)

But of course, the real fun starts when Mabel finds out.

That's the face of a girl who's just discovered that she tortured her great uncle. Now imagine running into the brother she possessed.

But I've already spent a million words and thirteen images on this post. If enough folks are interested in the AU maybe I'll expand on it later. Let me know what y'all think.

[moonstruckme]

Are you going to continue the roomate James series? I’m actually in love with it😍

Yes! Thank you for reading <3

part 1 │ part 2 │ part 3 │ part 4 │part 5 │ part 6 │ part 7 │ part 8 │ part 9 │ part 10 │ part 11 │ part 12 │ part 13

roommate!James x shy!reader ♡ 804 words

“Honey, I’m home!” 

A smile tugs at your lips, even as you roll your eyes to yourself. James has become more and more fond of these pet names, and of announcing his comings and goings like he’s worried you’ll miss him. (He’s never gone long enough for that, though you might actually miss him if he were.) If you don’t respond in some way or another, he’ll—

“Hey.” He pokes his head through your cracked door. “You alive in here?” 

You pause in folding your laundry to give him a deadpan look. “I could have been in my underwear.” 

He looks mildly horrified. “I’d hope if you were, you’d close the door all the way.” 

“You know, I did manage to stay alive even before you moved in.” 

James leans on your doorframe, giving you the sort of lazy grin you have to pretend doesn’t scare butterflies into flight in your stomach. You really hope that wears off soon. “See, but now I’m convinced if I don’t check on you, you really will die and it’ll be my fault.” 

“How would it be your fault?” 

“Classic case of roommate neglect. I smell the rotting coming from inside your room, the police come, they ask How did you not know your roommate was dead for a month? I reply, Well, officer, she said she could be galavanting in her underwear at any moment. They put me in handcuffs and I spend the next five to fifteen years having Sirius bring me cigarettes I don’t want so that I can trade them for ramen noodles in the yard.” 

You scoff, fighting a smile. “As if you would ever eat ramen.” 

“That’s what I’m saying, sweetheart. You’d be forcing me upon desperate times. But hey,” he raises his hands in a show of surrender, “I didn’t come in here to discuss prison currency. Would it be alright with you if I had friends over tonight?” 

“Of course,” you say, looking back down to match a pair of socks. “You don’t need to ask every time, it’s always alright.” 

“Thanks,” he says warmly, “but it makes me feel better to ask. What do you want on your pizza?” 

You blink. “Me?” 

“Yes, you.” He smiles. Butterflies all over again. “You don’t have to hang out with us to eat it—though we’d love to have you—but I’m not just going to order pizza to your own apartment without having any for you.” 

“It’s your apartment, too,” you remind him. “That’d be a very normal thing to do.” 

“Irregardless.” James waves you off. You wrinkle your nose at the word choice. “What do you want?” 

You swallow a sigh. There are some things, you’ve found, James is nearly impossible to argue with about. If you really dig your heels in, sometimes you can make him move first, but you don’t feel like it right now. 

You do the next best thing you can think of: choosing the least obtrusive option. “Cheese is good with me, thanks.” 

His eyes narrow like he knows what you’re doing, but he says, “Got it. I’ll let you know when it’s here.” 

“Thanks.” You turn your attention back to your laundry. James lingers in the doorway. 

A month ago, you would have kept ignoring him, working on the (unfounded) hope that he’d go away. Now, you look up. 

“Do you think you might come downstairs and hang out?” he asks. He has a strange look on his face, one you can’t quite decipher. “You know you’re always invited.” 

You give James a terse sort of smile. He’s not stopped inviting you to do things since the day he moved in. Your open invitation has been made very clear, and you’ve been accepting it more often lately. James is someone who makes it easy to feel close to him. He tosses pet names at you like they’re nothing, comes to check on you when he gets home, pretends he needs to go grocery shopping just because you need a ride to the store. Last week, you’d sat down to watch a movie with him and woken up to a black screen, your cheek smushed into his shoulder and his head resting atop yours. 

Somehow, you’ve let him spill into your life without meaning to, and now you have these childish, crush-like reactions whenever he smiles a certain way or calls you pet names with that familiar bent to his voice. You know you just need time to sort these feelings out. It’d probably be ideal to keep yourself from spilling into his life as much as possible in the meantime. 

But it’s hard to deny James anything when he’s so sweet to you. And he’s nice. His friends seem nice. 

“I might,” you say. 

“I’ll take the win,” James replies, smiling. These butterflies are seriously inconvenient.

[etheraltides]

Burning the Line

Pairing: Rafe Cameron x best friend!Reader

Summary: What started as a no-strings-attachment is quickly spiraling out of control. You and Rafe Cameron had rules, but rules were meant to be broken. As jealousy ignites, emotions boils over, and fists fly, you’re left questioning if you’re ready to risk your friendship for something neither of you can ignore anymore.

Warning(s): SMUT – oral sex, p in v penetration (wrap before you tap it, y’all), dirty talk, a bit of degrading kink. Substance use, jealousy, possessiveness, violence, toxic dynamic. Minors do not interact, please! 18+ ONLY!

Word count: 7.5k

A/N: I’ve used Grammarly to correct things so if there’s anything weird, blame it on that bot. Don’t forget to check my masterlist and maybe show your girl some feedback. Love y’all!

Rafe’s new place was alive with music, laughter, and the buzz of expensive liquor. The air inside was stifling, a haze of cigarette smoke and sweat from too many bodies crammed into the space. You nursed your drink, eyes scanning the crowd for no one in particular. Well, maybe someone in particular. But you’d rather die than admit it.

Rafe had been making the rounds all night, charming the crowd in that cocky, effortless way he had. His arm had been slung around Sofia’s shoulders not too long ago, and you’d tried to convince yourself it didn’t matter.

You’d known they were hooking up. It wasn’t a secret — not that Rafe had ever been shy about the girls he entertained. But this? This felt different. Too comfortable. Too prolonged. Rafe Cameron didn’t go back to the same person more than twice, three times max. Except for you.

That thought had always given you a strange sense of pride, something you’d never admit out loud. He’d been with you more times than you could count, and while you’d both sworn it didn’t mean anything, part of you had held onto the idea that it was different with you. That you were different.

But seeing Sofia press herself closer to him, her lips lingering on his ear as she whispered something only for him, made your stomach churn. It wasn’t just casual flirting — it had an air of possession, like she thought she had him. And the worst part? He didn’t seem to mind.

When Sofia kissed him, it was the final blow.

Her lips captured his like it was the most natural thing in the world, her hands threading through his hair, pulling him closer. And Rafe didn’t just let it happen — he kissed her back. His hand tightened on her waist, pulling her flush against him, his other hand resting on the back of her neck as though he was guiding her.

You swallowed hard, the burn of jealousy clawing at your chest. You told yourself it was just Rafe being Rafe, that he’d get bored of her eventually. But the kiss felt like it was lasting too long. Too intimate. Too much.

Your breath hitched, and you looked away, the sight of them together too much to handle. You gripped your drink tighter, the cold glass digging into your palm as if it could ground you, but it didn’t help. The ache in your chest only grew, and before you could think twice, you tipped the rest of your drink back, letting the alcohol burn its way down your throat.

Slamming the empty glass onto the nearest table, you forced yourself to move, the heat of the room and the weight of their kiss suffocating you. Without a word to anyone, you pushed your way down the hallway and into the bathroom, slamming the door shut behind you.

You leaned against it, your breathing shallow as you tried to compose yourself. But no amount of deep breaths could erase the image burned into your mind — Rafe’s hand on Sofia’s waist, his lips moving against hers like she was the only person in the room.

Staring into the mirror, you barely recognized the frustrated, jealous girl looking back at you. This wasn’t supposed to happen. You weren’t supposed to care who he kissed or how many times he went back to her.

But you did. And that truth was harder to swallow than the drink still burning in your throat.

You weren’t his girlfriend, not even close. Just… friends. Friends who had been tangled up in bedsheets more times than you cared to count, friends who couldn’t seem to keep their hands off each other after a few too many drinks. That was it. That was all.

It wasn’t long before it swung open and before you could shout that the bathroom was already taken, there he was.

“Been looking for you,” Rafe said, shutting the door behind him with a subtle smirk.

“Why? Thought Sofia had you busy.” The words left your lips with venom, barely able to hide it.

He smirked, stepping closer, and you hated the way your body reacted to his presence, like it was wired to his every move. “She’s not my type. You know that.”

You rolled your eyes, leaning back against the counter. “Then why were you all over her?”

He took another step, close enough now that you could feel the heat radiating off him. “What, you jealous?”

You scoffed, but it came out weaker than you intended. “Shut up, Rafe.”

His smirk widened, and before you could say another word, his hands were on your hips, his lips crashing against yours.

It was all heat and desperation, months of tension spilling out as he pressed you against the counter, his hands gripping your waist like he was afraid you might disappear.

“Admit it,” he murmured against your lips. “This is about her, isn’t it?”

“Shut up,” you snapped, pulling him closer, your fingers tangling in his hair.

He chuckled darkly, his lips brushing the shell of your ear. “You’re so full of shit, you know that? You care who I’m with.”

“I don’t,” you lied, pushing him back slightly, though your hands stayed on his chest. “We’re just friends, Rafe. Friends who—”

“Friends who what?” he interrupted, his voice sharp now, his blue eyes blazing as they locked onto yours. “Friends who fuck? Friends who can’t go a week without tearing each other’s clothes off? That’s not friendship, and you fucking know it.”

Your heart was pounding, your breath coming in short, shallow bursts. “You’re drunk,” you muttered, though the words felt hollow even as you said them.

“And you’re a coward,” he shot back, his hands gripping the counter on either side of you, caging you in. The air between you felt thick, electric, like the room itself was alive with the tension crackling between you.

“Rafe—”

“You feel it too,” he said, his voice softer now, though no less intense. “You can pretend all you want, but you’re lying to yourself if you think this is nothing.”

For a moment, the world seemed to stand still. The party, the music, the laughter – it all faded into the background as his words hung heavy in the air.

You wanted to argue, to push him away, to deny it all. But instead, you pulled him closer, your lips finding his again in a kiss that was equal parts frustration and surrender.

Maybe you were lying to yourself. Maybe you had been for a long time. But in that moment, with his hands on your skin and his breath mixing with yours, you couldn’t bring yourself to care.

His grip on your hips was bruising, pulling you flush against him, leaving no room for air or thought.

“Admit it,” Rafe growled against your lips, his voice rough, raw. His hands slid up your sides, pushing your shirt higher, fingers digging into your skin like he was trying to ground himself – or break you.

“Admit what?” you bit back, shoving at his chest even as your legs locked around his waist, holding him in place. “That you’re a smug asshole? That you think you can push me around?”

He grabbed your wrists, pinning them against the counter behind you with one hand, his lips curling into a dangerous smirk. “You’re so full of shit,” he said, his breath fanning over your face, his free hand trailing up your thigh. “You think you don’t care? You think I don’t see it? That I don’t know you?”

“Let go of me, Rafe,” you hissed, though the words came out weaker than you wanted, trembling with the electricity coursing between you.

“Make me,” he shot back, his voice dark, taunting. His lips crashed against yours again, his hand leaving your thigh to grip the back of your neck, forcing you to meet his intensity head-on.

You twisted your wrists, trying to break free, but his grip held firm. You hated the way your body betrayed you, heat pooling in your stomach even as you told yourself you wanted to push him away.

“Why do you always have to ruin everything?” you spat when you finally managed to pull back, your chest heaving as you glared at him.

“Me?” he barked out a bitter laugh, his forehead pressing against yours. “You’re the one who keeps lying. To me. To yourself. You think I’m ruining this? Newsflash, sweetheart, you’re the one fucking things up.”

Your jaw tightened, the words hitting too close to home. “You don’t know what the hell you’re talking about.”

His grip on your wrists loosened, but only so he could grab your face, tilting it up so you couldn’t avoid his gaze. “Don’t I?” he challenged, his eyes blazing. “Then why are you still here? Why are you letting me touch you like this?”

You opened your mouth to retort, but he kissed you again before you could get a word out, his lips moving against yours with a ferocity that stole your breath. His hands were everywhere — your waist, your thighs, your neck — gripping, holding, demanding.

You hated him for being right, for knowing exactly how to dismantle every wall you’d built. You hated yourself more for letting him.

“Say it,” he growled against your lips, his hands tightening on your hips as he pushed you harder against the counter. “Say you don’t care, and I’ll walk out that door right now.”

You clenched your fists, your nails digging into his shoulders as you glared at him, your anger and frustration bubbling over. “And then will you do what? Go back to miss pogue? Didn’t know you were into charity, Cameron.”

His smirk was sharp, cruel, as his hands slid to your thighs, pulling you even closer. “I’m trying new things,” he admitted, his voice dropping an octave. “But that was rude even for you, Y/N.”

Your breath caught, his words hitting like a slap, and you hated how much you wanted to kiss him again, to shut him up, to drown in the chaos of him.

So you did.

Your lips crashed into his with a force that left your teeth clashing, your hands gripping his hair, pulling hard enough to make him groan against your mouth. His hands were rough, sliding under your shirt, his touch possessive, searing.

The tension was suffocating, the air thick with everything unspoken between you. Every kiss, every touch, every desperate gasp was a battle —a clash of frustration, anger, and the kind of want that left you both teetering on the edge of destruction.

When you pulled back, both of you were breathing hard, your faces inches apart. His hands were still on your thighs, his thumbs brushing against your skin, grounding you in a way that made you want to scream.

“This doesn’t mean anything,” you said, your voice shaking, though whether it was from anger or the sheer force of what just happened, you weren’t sure.

Rafe’s laugh was low, bitter, as he leaned in, his lips brushing your ear. “Keep telling yourself that,” he said, his voice dripping with disdain. “But we both know the truth, don’t we?”

You didn’t respond. You couldn’t. Not when the weight of his words hung so heavy between you. Instead, you grabbed his collar, pulling him back to you, your lips crashing against his once more in a kiss that was equal parts anger and surrender.

Because maybe he was right. Maybe you did know the truth. But for now, this was all you could give.

The air in the bathroom was stifling, filled with the heady mix of alcohol, sweat, and lust. Your back slammed against the counter as Rafe’s mouth claimed yours, all heat and rawness. His hands gripped your hips hard enough to bruise, pulling you into him like he couldn’t get close enough.

“Admit it,” he muttered against your lips, his voice rough and demanding.

“Admit what?” you snapped back, tugging at his shirt, your anger and desire bleeding into every movement. “That you’re an insufferable prick?”

He growled low in his throat, his teeth grazing your bottom lip as he kissed you harder, swallowing the gasp that escaped you. His hands slid under your shirt, fingers digging into your bare skin, leaving a burning trail in their wake.

“You think this doesn’t mean anything?” he asked, his voice a mix of frustration and disbelief as he pulled back just enough to meet your gaze, his blue eyes blazing.

“It doesn’t,” you lied, even as your hands tangled in his hair, pulling him closer. “It’s just sex, Rafe. That’s all it’s ever been.”

He laughed, dark and humorless, his grip tightening. “You’re such a horrible liar,” he said, his lips crashing against yours again, his kiss rough, punishing. “You feel it, just like I do.”

You didn’t respond. You couldn’t. Not when his hands were sliding down your thighs, lifting you onto the counter. Your legs wrapped around his waist instinctively, pulling him closer as he kissed his way down your neck, biting just hard enough to leave marks.

The sound of the party outside was distant now, a dull thrum that faded into nothing as he pushed up your skirt, his hands rough, desperate.

“Tell me to stop,” he murmured against your skin, his voice low, almost daring.

You didn’t. You couldn’t.

Instead, your nails dug into his shoulders, urging him closer, silently begging for more. Rafe took the invitation, lifting your shirt with a fervor that spoke of his own desperation. Your breasts spilled out of your bra, the lacy confines no match for his greedy hands. He cupped them, squeezing gently before his thumbs found your erect nipples. He rolled them between his fingers, eliciting a whimper that you couldn’t hold back. The sensation shot straight to your core, making you wetter, needier.

Then his mouth was there, sucking one of your tits into his mouth, his tongue flicking against the sensitive flesh as he worked on the other with his hand. You arched your back, pressing your chest closer to him, silently demanding more. He gave it to you without hesitation, his teeth grazing your sensitive peak before soothing the sting with a soft lick. You moaned, the sound muffled by his mouth, your eyes squeezing shut as you felt yourself falling into the abyss of pleasure he so expertly created.

While he feasted on your breasts, Rafe’s hand slithered up your thigh, the fabric of your panties already damp with your arousal. He hooked his finger under the elastic, pulling it aside to expose your swollen folds. His touch was feather-light at first, teasing, making you squirm and grip his shoulders. Then, his fingers were inside you, pushing deep and curling just so, making your eyes fly open wide with a gasp. His thumb found your clit, rubbing slow, deliberate circles that had you trembling on the edge of the counter.

“You’re so wet for me,” Rafe murmured, his voice thick with lust. “Does it feel good, baby?”

With a feral growl, Rafe ripped your panties away, the fabric giving way to the strength of his desire. The sudden exposure made you gasp, your legs trembling as he positioned himself between your thighs. He didn’t wait for your response, instead plunging his face between your legs to taste your sweetness. Your hands clutched the counter, knuckles white from the intensity as his tongue delved deep, lapping up your arousal as if it were the sweetest nectar.

“Oh, God, Rafe!” you moaned, your voice echoing off the tiles, raw and unbridled. It was a sound that didn’t belong in the hallowed halls of friendship, but here you were, straddling that blurry line, your body begging for more of what he offered. His tongue swirled around your clit, flicking and stroking in a rhythm that sent shockwaves through your core. Your moans grew louder, filling the small space, a symphony of pleasure that you couldn’t hold back.

“Tell me you don’t want this,” he murmured against your sex, his breath hot and heavy. “Tell me this isn’t what you crave every time you think of me, every time you touch yourself in the dark of your room.”

“Fuck you,” you gritted out, the words muffled by the moan that followed, a testament to the way his tongue was working its magic on your clit. It was a declaration of war, a challenge, but the way your body responded was anything but adversarial. Your hips bucked upwards, meeting his mouth with a desperate rhythm that spoke volumes.

Rafe arched a brow, adding a finger to the mix, sliding it into your soaking wet pussy alongside his tongue. The dual sensation was overwhelming, his finger curling inside you, stroking that perfect spot while his mouth feasted on your clit. You bit down on your lip to keep from screaming, the pressure building, your orgasm cresting like a wave about to break.

But then, just when you thought you couldn’t take it anymore, he pulled away, leaving you panting and desperate. “What the fuck?” you gasped, your eyes snapping open to find him smirking up at you, his pants quickly unbuckled and on the floor.

“Turn around,” he instructed, his voice a deep rumble of authority that sent a shiver down your spine. You didn’t argue, you couldn’t. The need was too intense, the desire too overpowering. You spun around, gripping the edge of the counter as he bent you over it. The cool marble sent a jolt through your overheated body, heightening the sensation as he positioned himself behind you.

He didn’t waste any time, his cock sliding into you in one swift, hard thrust that made you cry out. The angle was just right, hitting deep, sending pleasure and a hint of pain spiraling through you. Rafe’s hands dug into your hips, his grip bruising as he began to fuck you with an aggression that bordered on feral. “You like it rough, don’t you?” he growled, his breath hot on your neck. “You’re such a dirty little slut for me, aren’t you?”

You couldn’t deny it, not when his words sent a thrill through you, making your pussy clench around his thick cock. You pushed back into him, meeting each thrust with an eager moan. His words were a balm to the anger that simmered between you, a reminder that this was what you both wanted, what you both needed.

“Shit, just like that,” you breathed, your voice ragged with need. The words were barely out of your mouth before Rafe’s hand came down with a sharp slap on your ass, the sting of pain mixing with the pleasure that already had you teetering on the edge.

He chuckled darkly, his voice thick with desire as he leaned over you, his breath hot on your neck. “You like getting it rough, don’t you?” he murmured, his free hand reaching around to squeeze your breast, twisting the nipple just enough to make you gasp.

“I’m going to make you cum so hard you won’t be able to walk out of here without everyone knowing what a slut you are for me,” he said, his voice a low, seductive taunt that had you clenching around him even tighter. The orgasm was building, coiling deep in your belly, a pressure that grew with every thrust, every slap of his body against yours.

“Oh, fuck, Rafe,” you panted, your forehead resting against the cool marble as he pounded into you relentlessly. The sound of skin on skin filled the bathroom, punctuated by your ragged gasps and his grunts of pleasure. You felt so exposed, so vulnerable in this position, and yet, it only added to the thrill.

“I’m close,” you managed to choke out, your voice shaking with the effort of holding back your orgasm. His grip on your hips tightened, his strokes becoming even more punishing, pushing you closer to the brink.

The tension coiled in your belly, a tight, unyielding knot that grew with every thrust. Then, with a final slap to your ass and a hard, deep drive of his cock, the dam broke. You screamed, the sound echoing off the bathroom tiles as your orgasm crashed over you, a wave of pleasure so intense it was almost painful. Your body convulsed around him, muscles clenching and releasing in a symphony of ecstasy that left you trembling.

But Rafe wasn’t done. He pulled out just as he felt himself reaching the edge, his cock glistening with your juices. You whimpered, the sudden emptiness making your legs wobble. Before you could protest, he spun you around and gently but firmly pushed you to your knees, his eyes never leaving yours. The look in them was one of hunger and possession, a silent demand that sent a fresh wave of arousal through your veins.

“Open your mouth,” he ordered, his voice strained, and you complied without thought, your eyes locked onto his. He positioned the head of his cock at your lips, the tip brushing against your bottom lip. You could feel the heat of him, see the veins pulsing with need. He was close, so close, and the power to bring him to climax was intoxicating.

As soon as your lips parted, Rafe grabbed a fistful of your hair, pulling you closer. The sting of pain made your eyes water, but you welcomed it, the sensation only adding to the intensity of the moment. You took him deep into your mouth, the muscles in your throat contracting around his thickness, the taste of him salty and addictive.

Rafe’s eyes rolled back in his head as you worked your mouth over him, your tongue swirling around the tip with every pull back, tracing the underside of his cock with each descent. His hand in your hair tightened, guiding your movements, setting the pace. You could feel his thighs tremble beneath your grasp, his breath hitching with every stroke of your tongue.

“Fuck, yes, like that,” he groaned, his voice a raw, guttural sound that only spurred you on. His hand tightened into a fist, tugging on your hair, and you moaned around his length, the pain mixing with the pleasure of pleasuring him. His other hand came to rest on the back of your head, pressing you closer, urging you to take more of him. You obliged, your nose brushing against his pelvis, your throat stretched around his cock.

The head of his dick hit the back of your throat and you gagged, your eyes watering, but you didn’t pull away. Instead, you swallowed around him, the sensation sending a shiver of arousal down your spine. Rafe’s body grew taut, his hips jerking as he fought for control.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he moaned, the words coming out as a strangled groan. You could feel his orgasm approaching, his cock swelling in your mouth. And when he finally came, it was with a roar, his cum spurting down your throat in hot, thick jets. You swallowed around him, eagerly taking every drop, your own desire spiraling out of control. His hand in your hair tightened, holding you in place as he fucked your mouth through his climax, his hips thrusting erratically.

When he finally pulled out, you sat back on your heels, wiping at the corner of your mouth with a trembling hand. You didn’t dare look up at him, not yet. The silence in the room was deafening, the only sound the harshness of your own breathing and the distant throb of music from the party outside.

Rafe stepped back, his chest heaving, and you took the opportunity to stand, smoothing down your skirt and fixing your shirt as best you could. The fabric was wrinkled, the buttons askew, but it was the best you could manage with shaking hands. You avoided his gaze as you bent down to pick up your panties, the shredded lace a sad testament to the ferocity of your encounter.

The silence in the bathroom was palpable, the tension thick as you both took stock of the situation. The anger was back, simmering just beneath the surface, a potent reminder of the unspoken words and unacknowledged feelings that had brought you to this point. Without looking at him, you straightened up, tucking the ruined underwear into your purse.

Rafe let out a dry, disbelieving laugh. “Seriously?” he said, his voice still thick with arousal. “You’re just gonna go back out there without panties?”

You shot him a glare, your cheeks flaming with both anger and embarrassment. “What the fuck do you expect me to do? You tore them off, remember?”

Rafe’s couldn’t help the smirk on his lips, his eyes gleaming with mischief. “I’ll get you new ones,” he offered, his tone mockingly sweet.

You rolled your eyes and turned to the sink, running cold water over your wrists in an attempt to cool down. “Just leave me alone, Rafe,” you said, your voice tight. “Go worry about your little party fling, Sofia, or whatever her name is. I’m sure she’s waiting for you.”

Rafe’s smirk fell away, replaced by a look of annoyance. “Don’t do that,” he said, his voice low and warning.

“Don’t do what?” you shot back, turning to face him, your hands planted firmly on your hips.

But before you could say another word, Rafe’s face contorted in a snarl of anger. “You know what!” he shouted, slamming his fist against the wall. Plaster rained down, the sudden violence making you flinch.

He stepped closer, his body a tower of rage, his eyes piercing yours with a ferocity that stole your breath. “You want to act like this doesn’t mean anything?” he yelled, his voice echoing in the small space. “You want to pretend like you don’t feel anything different?”

You stared at him for a long moment, your chest heaving with the effort of holding in the words that threatened to spill out. But you didn’t. You couldn’t. Not when the truth was a knife that would cut too deep, a wound that might never heal the friendship you cherished.

With a shaky breath, you stepped around him, reaching for the bathroom door. His hand shot out, catching your wrist in a vise-like grip. “You’re not going anywhere,” he growled.

But you didn’t cower. Instead, you yanked free, turning to face him with a look of cold determination. “Let go of me, Rafe,” you said, your voice shaking with barely restrained anger.

He took a step back, his eyes searching yours, looking for something, anything to hold onto. But you were tired, tired of pretending that the earth didn’t quake beneath you every time he touched you. So you pushed past him, the door slamming shut behind you as you stormed out of the bathroom, leaving him standing there.

You needed air. You needed to get away from him before you hazy mind let something slip.

You couldn’t loose Rafe. Couldn’t even entertain the thought of losing your best friend because neither of you could keep it in your pants.

The bathroom door slammed shut behind you, and you stumbled into the hallway, your breathing unsteady. You didn’t look at Rafe as he passed you, his expression hard, unreadable. The weight of what had just happened hung heavy between you, unspoken but impossible to ignore.

You made your way back into the party, grabbing the first drink you could find and downing it in one go. The burn of the alcohol did little to dull the mess of emotions swirling inside you.

“Where’ve you been?” Topper’s voice cut through the chaos, and you turned to see him holding a tray of shots.

“Nowhere,” you said quickly, forcing a grin. “Let’s do this.”

The atmosphere in the house was suffocating, the music pounding in your ears like a second heartbeat. You hadn’t noticed Rafe at first, but the air shifted when he entered the room. Your skin prickled, and every nerve felt attuned to him, even if you couldn’t see him yet. When your gaze finally found him across the room, your chest tightened.

He was standing near the bar, Sofia pressed against him. Her laugh, shrill and fake, echoed above the noise, and your stomach churned. You told yourself he didn’t mean anything by it — he wouldn’t. But then her fingers curled into his shirt, and your breath caught as you watched him tilt his head down with the cockiest smile, his lips brushing hers.

Your stomach twisted, and heat rushed to your face, equal parts humiliation and rage. You felt your heart drop before your emotions boiled into something sharper, hotter. If that’s how he wants to play it, fine. You downed the tequila in your glass in one burning gulp, then reached for another shot.

Your fingers tightened around the glass as the scene replayed in your head, fueling your every irrational thought. He doesn’t care. He’s never cared.

You slammed the shot glass onto the counter and turned, searching for anything—anyone—to pull you out of this spiral. Your eyes landed on the stranger who had been watching you, his smirk practically begging for trouble. Normally, you’d ignore someone like him, but tonight, his attention felt like exactly the kind of distraction you needed.

You stalked over, your steps deliberate, your chin held high. His grin widened when you stopped in front of him, your face set in a mask of forced confidence.

“You look like you could use some company,” he said, his voice smooth and self-assured.

“Maybe I could,” you replied, leaning in with syrupy sweetness. Without giving it another thought, you pressed your lips to his. The kiss was messy, clumsy, your mind clouded with tequila and spite. His hands found your waist, pulling you closer, and you let him. For those few seconds, you weren’t thinking about Rafe — about the way his lips had brushed Sofia’s, the way he hadn’t even tried to stop her.

But the illusion shattered when you felt a strong, unyielding hand grab the stranger’s shoulder and yank him away from you.

“What the fuck are you doing?” Rafe’s voice was low, lethal, his eyes blazing with an anger that sent chills down your spine. His jaw was set so tightly it looked like it might snap, his entire body coiled like a spring ready to explode.

The stranger stumbled but quickly regained his footing, shoving Rafe’s hand off with a sneer. “Seriously, man?” he spat. “Back off. She’s not yours.”

Rafe’s nostrils flared, his chest rising and falling with short, controlled breaths. His eyes darted to you for the briefest second, and the flicker of pain there was almost enough to stop your heart. But it was gone as quickly as it came, replaced by something far darker — jealousy, rage, frustration.

“Say that again,” Rafe growled, stepping forward, his voice deadly quiet.

“I said, she’s not yours.” The stranger smirked, glancing at you. “Though I wouldn’t mind if she was. She was clearly needing some.”

That was it. Rafe snapped.

The first punch landed square on the man’s jaw, a sickening crack echoing through the room. The stranger reeled back, clutching his face, but he wasn’t out. He lunged at Rafe, his fist connecting with Rafe’s cheekbone hard enough to split the skin. Blood dripped down his face, but it didn’t stop him.

Rafe’s expression was feral, his teeth gritted, his eyes burning with something raw and uncontrollable. He moved with precision, landing blows to the man’s ribs, his stomach, his face. The stranger staggered but fought back, catching Rafe in the stomach, then swinging wildly again. The crowd around them screamed, phones raised, some yelling for them to stop and others cheering them on.

“Rafe, stop!” you shouted, panic clawing at your throat, but your voice was lost in the chaos.

The scene spiraled out of control faster than you could have imagined. Rafe’s punches were relentless, his fists slamming into the stranger with a precision that made your stomach churn. The stranger fought back, landing blows of his own, but Rafe didn’t falter. His eyes were wild, blazing with fury, and you knew he wouldn’t stop until someone stopped him.

“Rafe, stop it!” you screamed, your voice drowned out by the shouts and chaos of the crowd forming around them. You tried to push through, but the bodies pressing in made it impossible to get close enough.

Desperation clawed at your chest as you scanned the room, your heart pounding. Then you spotted him — Topper, standing near the edge of the crowd with a beer in his hand, his eyes wide as he watched the fight unfold.

“Topper!” you yelled, your voice cracking with panic. “Topper, do something! Get him off!”

He blinked, startled, before realizing you were talking to him. “What the hell—” he started, but you cut him off.

“Now, Topper! Fucking help me!” you shouted, shoving someone aside as you struggled to get closer to the fight.

Topper cursed under his breath and shoved his drink into someone’s hands before rushing forward. “Rafe! Man, stop! You’re gonna kill him!” he barked, grabbing Rafe by the shoulders and trying to yank him back.

But Rafe barely reacted, his body tensing as he shook Topper off like he was nothing. “Stay out of it, Top!” he growled, his voice low and venomous, his fists still clenched and ready to swing again.

“Rafe, enough!” Topper shouted, throwing his weight into pulling Rafe back. “You’re gonna get yourself arrested, you idiot!”

With Topper’s help, you finally managed to push your way between them, your hands pressing hard against Rafe’s chest. His bloodied knuckles hovered in the air, trembling with the force of restraint as his gaze locked onto yours. His breaths were ragged, his chest heaving against your palms.

“Enough,” you repeated, your voice breaking, your hands shaking as you held him back. Topper stood just behind you, ready to step in again if Rafe tried to lunge.

The stranger coughed, staggering to his feet, blood dripping from his split lip. “You’re fucking insane,” he spat, glaring at Rafe before stumbling toward the door.

The crowd began to disperse after that, the tension slowly bleeding out of the room thanks to Topper helping send everyone away. But Rafe didn’t move, his burning gaze fixed on you, his chest still heaving beneath your hands.

Neither of you said anything after that. His fists were still clenched at his sides, the tension in his body radiating like heat. You didn’t trust yourself to say anything else, not when everything you wanted to scream was too raw, too real, too dangerous.

Rafe sat on the edge of the couch, his knuckles bloodied, his cheekbone swelling. You slammed the first aid kit onto the table, your hands trembling with a mix of anger and adrenaline.

“You’re such a fucking idiot!” you snapped, grabbing a clean towel and wetting it.

He didn’t respond, just watched you with that same infuriating, unreadable expression. His jaw clenched.

“What were you thinking?” you demanded, pressing the towel to his knuckles harder than necessary.

He winced but didn’t pull away. “He shouldn’t have touched you.”

You turned to him slowly, your head tilting in disbelief as you stared at him. Your lips parted, but no words came out at first, your thoughts racing too fast to catch. A bitter laugh finally bubbled up from your chest, and you shook your head, your eyebrows raising as if to ask are you serious right now?

“What the hell is your problem?” your voice sharp and incredulous. Your hands trembled at your sides, but you clenched them into fists, trying to steady yourself. It felt like your entire body was caught between rage and disbelief, your heart pounding as you searched his face for any hint that he realized how insane he sounded.

Rafe’s jaw was tight, his chest still heaving from the fight. His eyes dark and burning with something wild. “What’s my problem?” he snapped, his voice rough, practically vibrating with anger. “What the fuck were you doing, letting some asshole put his hands on you?!”

Your eyes widened, your brows shooting up as if his words had physically struck you. Letting some asshole? Your breath hitched in your throat, your body stiffening. For a moment, you didn’t even know how to respond, the audacity of his accusation knocking the air out of your lungs.

“Are you—” you started, your voice faltering as you let out another disbelieving laugh as you tried to wrap your head around the sheer hypocrisy. He cannot be serious.

You let out a bitter laugh, shaking your head. “Oh, so you get to shove your tongue down Sofia’s throat, but I can’t kiss someone else?”

His jaw tightened, his eyes narrowing. “That’s different. You did that to get under my skin.”

“Bullshit,” you shot back, tossing the towel onto the table and grabbing an antiseptic wipe. “You were trying to piss me off too, and congratulations — it worked. But that doesn’t mean you get to play the jealous boyfriend when I turn the tables.”

“I wasn’t jealous,” he said, though the lie was so transparent it almost made you laugh.

“Sure, you weren’t,” you said sarcastically, dabbing at the cut on his cheek.

His hand shot up, grabbing your wrist and stilling your movements. “Why does it bother you so much, then?”

You froze, your breath catching as his eyes bore into yours.

“It doesn’t,” you said weakly, but even you didn’t believe it.

His grip tightened, his voice dropping to a near-growl. “Liar.”

“Let go of me, Rafe,” you said, your voice trembling.

“Not until you stop running,” he shot back, his frustration boiling over. “You think this is just about sex? You think I’d care who you kissed if I didn’t give a shit about you?”

Your chest tightened, your heart pounding so loudly you were sure he could hear it.

“This—us—it’s a mess,” you said finally, your voice breaking. “And I don’t know how to fix it.”

Rafe sighed, his grip loosening as he leaned back, his eyes never leaving yours. “Maybe we don’t need to fix it,” he said quietly. “Maybe we just need to stop pretending it doesn’t matter.”

You didn’t respond. You couldn’t. Because deep down, you knew he was right.

A week had passed, but the tension hadn’t gone anywhere. If anything, it had grown heavier, thicker, stretching between you and Rafe like an unspoken dare. You’d avoided him since the party, throwing yourself into anything that would keep your mind off the bruises on his knuckles and the heat in his eyes when he’d pinned you with that question: Why does it bother you so much?

But Rafe was impossible to ignore. He always had been.

You were perched on a lounge chair by the pool at another Kook party – this one at Kelce’s place – pretending to listen to Topper as he rambled on about some stupid surf trip. The music thudded in the background, people laughing and shouting, but your focus was elsewhere.

Because Rafe was here.

He was leaning against the bar, a beer in hand, his expression unreadable as his gaze flicked to you for what had to be the tenth time that night. He looked the same as always — perfectly put together, the bruises from the fight almost faded. But there was something different in the way he was watching you.

It wasn’t just casual interest or playful teasing. It was heat. Frustration. Possession.

You looked away quickly, your stomach twisting.

“You okay?” Topper asked, raising a brow.

“Fine,” you lied, forcing a smile.

“Good, because we’re doing shots.” He grabbed your hand, pulling you toward the bar before you could protest. Topper and his damn shots.

And just like that, you were standing next to Rafe, the air between you charged and suffocating. You had to bite your tongue to don’t ask where his new pogue pet was. You had inflamed his ego just enough last time.

“Want one, Cameron?” Topper asked, oblivious to the way you and Rafe were studiously avoiding looking at each other.

Rafe smirked, his eyes flicking to you briefly before he grabbed a shot. “Why not?”

You reached for yours, your hand brushing his briefly. It was enough to send a jolt through you, and you hated the way your body reacted, even after everything.

“Cheers!” Topper shouted, and you all knocked back the shots.

The burn of tequila was a welcome distraction, but it wasn’t enough to dull the way Rafe’s eyes stayed on you, even as you turned away.

Later that night, you found yourself alone in the kitchen, searching for water to ease the heat in your chest. The party was still going strong, the chaos outside muffled by the thick glass doors.

“Can’t stay away, can you?”

The sound of his voice made you freeze, your hand tightening around the water bottle you’d just grabbed. You didn’t have to turn around to know he was standing in the doorway, his presence filling the room like it always did.

“What do you want, Rafe?” you asked, your voice sharper than you intended as you turned to face him.

He smirked, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “That’s the thing, isn’t it? What do you want?”

Your jaw tightened, your frustration bubbling over. “I want you to stop playing these stupid games,” you snapped. “You act like you care, but then you go around kissing Sofia or picking fights with random guys like some jealous psycho.”

His smirk faded, his expression hardening. “And you act like you don’t care at all,” he shot back, stepping closer. “Like none of this matters. Like I don’t matter.”

“You’re my best friend. Of course you matter,” you said, the words felt wrong even as they left your mouth. He wasn’t just your best friend at this point — you were sure friends didn’t do half of the things you’ve done.

“Bullshit,” he said, his voice low and dangerous as he crowded into your space.

You glared up at him, your chest heaving. “What do you want me to say, Rafe? That I’m scared? That I don’t know what the hell I’m doing? That I don’t want to lose the only person who—”

You cut yourself off, swallowing the rest of the sentence, but it was too late. The words hung in the air, heavy and undeniable.

His jaw clenched, his hands flexing at his sides like he was holding himself back. “You’re not gonna lose me,” he said finally, his voice softer but no less intense. “But you’re gonna drive me fucking insane if you keep pushing me away.”

“I’m not pushing you away,” you argued, though the words felt weak even to you.

“You are,” he said, his voice rising. “Every time I get close, you run. And I’m done chasing you, alright? You want this to mean nothing? Fine. But don’t stand here and tell me you don’t feel it, because I know you do.”

You stared at him, your pulse racing, your walls crumbling under the weight of his words.

“I don’t know how to do this,” you admitted finally, your voice barely above a whisper.

His eyes softened, his hand reaching out to cup your face. “Then let me show you,” he said, his thumb brushing against your cheek.

You didn’t respond, but you didn’t pull away either. And when he kissed you, it wasn’t rough or angry like before. It was slow, deliberate, filled with all the things neither of you had been able to say.

And for the first time, you let yourself kiss him back without fear or worry. Just you and him, in the quiet chaos of everything you couldn’t run from anymore.

[yuwuta]

*TEST DRIVE — YUUTA OKKOTSU

❝I WILL NEVER LEAVE BY YOUR SIDE, DON’T YOU KNOW YOU GOT A RIDE OR DIE

pairings. okkotsu/reader, uhhh implied maki/nobara and sort of itadori/fushiguro but that’s not so important for now

warnings, themes. non-curse/modern au, marriage of convenience au, i thought long and hard about who would fit this trope best and all i can say is that i didn’t really pick just one in the end, so if this spirals in a wedding/marriage playlist, you’ve been warned, um… sort of implied possessive behavior on yuuta’s end but it’s only teased for now :)

word count. 2.5k i can yap about him all day

playing. test drive/ariana grande, going crazy/exo, heart of glass/blondie, idea/taemin, tipsy/chloe x halle 

“I just heard the funniest joke from Inumaki,” Nobara says, welcoming herself into your apartment. You’re not surprised, and continue with your dessert preparations. Yuuji, to your left, spares her a wave, before going back to diligently preparing the vegetables. 

Maki is the only one to respond by turning slightly in her seat to raise an eyebrow at Nobara when she walks up to the island, “Since when do you think Toge is funny?” 

“Not usually,” Nobara admits, taking the neighboring open seat. She crosses her arms atop the counter, and squints at you, “But he surprised me this time.”

Your eyes fidget to Maki, who seems equally confused by Nobara’s unnerving stare, then to Yuuji, who appears none the wiser, because he happily chirps, “Well, I wanna hear it! Tell us, Kugisaki!”

“He said that it was soooo kind of you to share your anniversary date with Yuuta and have us all over for dinner,” Nobara drawls, “Then I got confused, of course—but then I thought, ‘Maybe they’re secretly together and I just didn’t know. Wouldn’t be a huge surprise.’”

You flinch at that, “What do you mean that wouldn’t be a huge sur—”

“This is the funniest part, though,” Nobara squints, “He said that you’re actually married, and he meant that today is your wedding anniversary. He was pretty convincing, though. He’s very committed to the bit—even challenged me to ask you at dinner, but I figured I’d straighten it out now,” she drawls, reaching over to steal a cucumber slice from Yuuji’s station, “You’re not actually married to Yuuta, right?”

You pause, for too long. Maki’s disbelief shifts from Nobara to you, morphing into a threatening glare that makes you chuckle nervously. Yuuji keeps turning his head between you and Nobara, waiting for one of you to crack. 

It’s not her. “Okay… define married,” you mumble.

Nobara all but jumps across the island, standing up and slamming her palms on the counter top. “What do you mean ‘define married’—there’s only one definition!” Yuuji frantically sweeps his preciously sliced vegetables out of her range. “You’re either married to Okkotsu or you’re not, which is it?” 

You pause again. Too long this time. 

“You’re fucking kidding me,” Maki says, “It’s true? Toge says that shit all the time, how he can ‘still hear wedding bells’ when you two are around. Oh, I’m going to be sick.”

“Wait, you’re married?” Yuuji quips, “Since when? You should have told me, I would have gotten you a present!”

“Okay, okay—enough!” you yell, taking a step back, “It’s… true, but it’s not what you think. Yuuta and I are legally married, but we’re not together together.”

Nobara reaches to flick you on the forehead, “What the hell does that mean?” 

“It means, we’re married on paper only,” you explain, strategically placing your knife in the sink, far out of Maki and Nobara’s reach. 

“Say more words,” Maki demands, “Now.” 

You sigh. Even Yuuji has paused his preparations, blinking at you with those big, wide eyes, and you know for sure there’s no way out of this now. 

“It happened four years ago. I—”

Despite being the one who asked you to say more, Maki is the first to cut you off, incredulous, “Four years? You’ve been married to that beanstalk for four years and neither one of you twigs thought to mention it?” 

“Maki, let her finish,” Yuuji pitches in for you, reaching a comforting hand out to your shoulder, “Maybe she was dying and needed Okkotsu-senpai to sign her insurance papers so the government didn’t sweep her away! I saw that in a K-Drama once,” he smiles proudly. Nobara pinches her face in disgust, immediately refuting and calling Yuuji an idiot for believing everything he sees on TV. 

“Honestly, that’s not too far off. I’m not dying—and neither is Yuuta,” you hastily correct the worried faces peering at you, “But he was sick as a kid, and long story short is something got fucked up with his insurance when his parents died. It wasn’t a big deal, at first, but it spiraled into a bunch of issues, the biggest being the threat of taking his parents’ house away from him.”

Nobara pulls back, crossing her arms. “Why didn’t Gojo just do something then? That idiot has more than enough money to spare for some petty hospital bill, even with twenty years of interest.” 

“He did,” you assure her, “But then the house became its own problem. His parents didn’t leave the deed in his name, and the community board tried to say that Yuuta had no assets and wasn’t a favored candidate for their neighborhood, even if he was their son.” 

“That’s bullshit,” Maki interjects. 

“Yeah, totally not fair,” Yuuji pouts, “That’s his dead parents’ house and they wanted him to prove himself?” 

“Pretty much,” you sigh, “Basically marriage is something that helped prove his eligibility… plus some doctored philanthropic donations on Gojo’s end, and letters of recommendation from Shoko and her co-workers.” 

Nobara tuts her bottom lip out. “I don’t know, I’m not buying it.” 

“No, it makes sense. I’m sure by now all his parents’ neighbors are a bunch of uptight, old heads who didn’t want some kid throwing parties nearby,” Maki argues, “But once they hear he’s a young, married, nurse with a side hustle in philanthropy, I’m sure those geezers welcomed him with open arms. Sounds like some shit my family would do, too.” 

Nobara hums, factoring in Maki’s evaluation. “Okay fine. Yuuta marries you, he gets his parents’ house back and probably commits insurance fraud too,” she settles, “But what about you?—You said this was mutually beneficial, so what did you get out of it?” 

You probably should talk to Yuuta about revealing all the details of your marriage to your friends, but you knew it was bound to happen sooner or later. Yuuta’s parents’ death and the issues that came along with it weren’t a secret at the time, but your problems are something you kept private. It’s a miracle you’ve gone this long under the radar, and you know Nobara isn’t going anywhere with unanswered questions. 

“Permanent residency status,” you tell her, “Yuuta’s a citizen, so in marrying him, all my problems about finding a job in six weeks after graduation disappeared.” 

“But… you got a job?” Yuuji questions, head tilted. 

“Yeah, eventually, but I didn’t know I would, and it was either take that chance, or be forced to go back home, and my time was running out,” you reveal, twiddling your thumbs together, “Look, I would have said something at the time, but everyone had their own shit to deal with after graduation. I would have asked any one of you to marry me, but I knew Yuuta was the only one with a reason to say yes.” 

The kitchen falls quiet as the news sits with your friends. Nobara and Maki’s stern disbelief slowly morphs into empathy, and Yuuji’s bright eyes grow steely with concentration as he pieces your story together. 

Then he springs up, “Wait, I totally would have married you, senpai!” 

You laugh, a lightness easing its way back into the room. “Thanks, Yuuji,” you lean to give him a kiss on the cheek, but you’re met with Nobara’s outstretched palm instead. 

“Nuh-uh. Just because I think this marriage is insane doesn’t mean that I condone adultery.” 

“It’s not adultery. I told you, Yuuta and I are married on paper only—he’s free to date and kiss whomever he pleases, and so am I,” You roll your eyes, pushing her hand away and giving Yuuji a kiss anyway, which he happily accepts, sticking his tongue out in mockery at Nobara.

Maki scoffs, “Are we sure that Yuuta knows that?” 

“Of course he knows that.”

“So then why hasn’t he dated anyone?” Maki presses, eyes lowering into a teasing glare. 

“I don’t know,” you shrug, “Who Yuuta does or doesn’t date isn’t really my business.” 

Nobara pulls at her hair, “Yes it is. You’re his wife.” 

“His contractual wife,” you correct. 

“Contractual?” 

“Wait—have Yuuta and Toge not totally kissed on several drunk, or am I the only one who saw that?” Yuuji interjects.

“No, that was you and Fushiguro,” Nobara says, “And nobody cares about you two right now.” 

You put a hand on Yuuji’s shoulder, “I care about you, Yuuji. Please, tell us about your drunk escapades with our dear Megumi.” 

“Save it, Itadori,” Maki cuts in, crushing Yuuji’s bright demeanor, “You and Yuuta are way more pathetic. Keep talking.” 

“Since when do you even like to gossip?” 

“Since she met me,” Nobara gleams, proudly, “Now, keep going.” 

You give Yuuji an apologetic glance before continuing, “I just mean that by the end of this year, Yuuta and I can get amicably divorced without raising any suspicion. Our marriage can’t be contested as a sham, I’ll be eligible for citizenship and housing on my own, and all will be well.” 

It’s quiet again, for a moment. You bite your lip in anticipation. Ultimately, you knew that none of your friends would judge you and Yuuta for what you did, but it wasn’t exactly normal to marry your friends for legal benefits, and then hide your marital status from almost everyone you knew. Still, this conversation was going about as well as it could, until Maki starts laughing. 

Her laughter starts off quiet, then grows gradually, until it becomes concerning. You don’t think you’ve ever seen Maki actually laugh before—a few amused grunts, and occasional drunk giggles, yes, but full-on, blown laughter is a first. It’s scary, and as you glance at Nobara and Yuuji, you’re clearly not the only one worried. 

“You actually believe that he doesn’t feel anything for you—that’s rich,” she says through laughter, clutching her stomach, “God help you if you think you can just divorce him. You two are so fucked, you deserve each other.”

“Wait, speaking of rich, did you sign a prenup? Isn’t Yuuta totally loaded now that he’s a nurse and related to Gojo—I also don’t think that you’ll be able to divorce him that easily, but if you kill him, you could be an instant millionaire,” Nobara reasons. 

“That’s so shallow!” Yuuji exclaims, “Also, I’m a nurse, and I wouldn’t say I’m loaded.” 

“That’s because you’re not cute like Yuuta,” Nobara mocks, “If you were, then you’d make the big bucks.” 

“I’m cute!” Yuuji cries, turning to you, “I’m cute, right?” 

You reach to pat his head, “Yes, Yuuji, you’re very cute. And perfectly well off enough. Yuuta works inhumane hours for his money, don’t be like him.” 

“Itadori, you make, like, quadruple what the average person makes,” Maki reminds him, “You just spend it all just as quickly.” 

Nobara scoffs, “Which he can afford to do because he’s a nepotism baby.” 

“You just said I was poor and ugly, and now I’m a nepotism baby? Pick a story, Kugisaki!”

“I don’t have to pick shit. Nanami-san sponsors your entire life, and enables your bad spending habits,” she huffs, “Yuuta’s a nepotism nurse, too. In fact, you both make me sick.” 

“Okay, then by that logic Fushiguro is also a nepotism baby!”

“Well, duh. He’s, like, the poster child for nepotism babies all around the world.” 

You drown out Nobara and Yuuji’s argument, mulling over Maki’s words instead. Did she mean to imply that Yuuta would make your divorce difficult on purpose?—you don’t see why; Yuuta doesn’t have a malicious bone in his body, and it wouldn’t serve him any purpose. You didn’t sign a prenup, but you would never argue ownership over any of his assets, and you know that Yuuta knows that; he’d already given you so much, you would never try to take anything from him. 

In fact, getting divorced would only open more doors for him. You don’t know if Yuuta hasn’t dated in the past four years out of some lingering loyalty to your marriage, but if that was the case, then you don’t want to stand in his way for any longer than necessary, and you especially don’t want him to grow to resent you for it. He would no longer be unnecessarily bound to you; he’d be free, legally, to carry on with his life—you would be the only one indebted to him for his boundless kindness. 

Truthfully, you hadn’t thought much of your divorce throughout your marriage. You knew that after five years, you could get divorced without consequence, but you hadn’t pictured how that would go. The thought of it somehow messing with your relationship to Yuuta, and your mutual friendships makes your head hurt. Maybe you should have married Yuuji instead. 

“Are you kidding, Yuuta would have mauled him,” Nobara chuckles, “Plus he would have lost his childhood home.” You blink. Guess you said that last part out loud. 

Her words spark more bickering between her and Itadori, and this time you turn to Maki. It was evident that she was just as much in the dark as anybody else about your secret marriage, but, still, it seemed like she knew something that you didn’t. 

“Maki, does... you said I think that Yuuta doesn’t feel anything—then what does he feel?” 

Maki blinks, then shakes her head, “You clearly don’t know who you married. That’s for you and your husband to work out.” She continues, this time that same wicked laughter is back, “Just know that whatever your plan for divorce was, it’s not going to be that easy. Yuuta is stupid, clearly, but he’s not that dumb. At least, I hope not.” 

You pout, shoulders slumping. That was about the most cryptic and least comforting response a person could give, but you shouldn’t have expected more from Maki. Luckily, Yuuji moves to give your shoulders a comforting rub, forgoing Nobara’s exclamations of him being a homewrecking harlot. 

At this point, you can’t tell if their arguing or your overthinking is causing your headache. Maybe you should cancel this group dinner all together; there’s no way you and Yuuta won’t be the topic of conversation all night, and you’re not exactly looking forward to pairing Maki’s mystic messages with Toge’s public humiliation, unless you start consuming liquor now. 

Deciding that’s the best plan of action, you turn to your cupboards to reach for a bottle of wine, pawning off popping the cork to Maki when your phone buzzes, catching your attention. 

It’s a text from Yuuta, similar to one you’ve received on this day every day, for the past four years, with something a little extra tacked on this year. 

from: yuuta 🌟 — happy anniversary (and i’m not just saying that because the feds are watching) (＾∇＾) — cheers to us, and many more! 🖤

[formylovetodaryldixon]

“Russian roulette.” Daryl Dixon Imagine.

(Not my gif)

The game of killing or dying was too much for you after Richard was about to use you as bait, so you left to not be part of that life. However, it happens that you have a husband who is an excellent hunter, and who swears to you that he would burn everything in his path until he finds you.

A/N: This is an imagine I wrote a long time ago, but that was the first time I wrote smut (I suck at it, really) that's why I never did it, but I tried my best hehe. I realized that I love, LOVE writing Daryl as a husband, is kind of hot♥ (Sorry if there are any grammatical errors)

From afar, Daryl sees you teaching the children of the kingdom how to use the bow in the archery area. Some little ones had good bases to become great archers, to protect themselves and others from the dead, but he sees too how they insist that you show them again how it was done. So you search inside the quiver that hangs against your back, taking an arrow with a red feather in it that shines in the morning sun when you connect it with the bow. With a fluid movement, you raise the bow to the height of your face, pointing towards the target in front but far from you, and your arrow pierces right in the middle of the yellow point of the objective.

Daryl smiles proudly, but decides not to get close when King Ezekiel approaches you. Instead, Daryl walks away from there and crosses the garden and some houses, while, near him, Richard keeps practicing in his own archery area, and watches Daryl as he approaches.

“I’m practicing. I have to start using these more.” He raises the bow close to his face, aiming towards the target, but the arrow hit the black point far from the center. “I know your wife can do much better.”

“She can.” Daryl says, and Richard turns to him.

“Morgan said you’re a bowman.” Richard takes the crossbow from the big box between them, holding a calm expression that Daryl doesn’t trust in, but he takes it, glancing at Richard with suspicion.

“Why?”

“Because we want the same things. And I need your help.”

He is talking about the saviors, Daryl knows it well, so he checks the weight of the crossbow in his hands before he lifts it close to his face, ready to shoot.

Daryl and Richard walk down the empty highway with green trees at the sides and a desolate view. The plan is to attack first, a surprise ambush that would cause a war between the Kingdom and the saviors, to then finally kill them to live safe. So they hide behind a big cargo truck by the side of the road, putting down their weapons and backpacks.

“They ride this road. If we see cars: it’s the saviors. They are coming in bands of 2 or 3. That’s why I need you. I can’t take them down alone.” Richard says. He kneels in front of his backpack, pulling the liquor bottles out of it. “We hit them with the guns first, then with the molotovs, and back to the guns until they are dead.”

“Why the fire?”

“It needs to look bad.” But Daryl doesn’t seem convinced, and walks around Richard with his crossbow in hand, forcing him with just a look to continue explaining himself. “The saviors who discovers what’s left…” Richard gets up and turns around to look at Daryl. “We want them to be angry. I left a trail from here to the weapons cache near to an open field that will take them… to a person who practices near here and that Ezekiel cares about.”

Daryl narrows his eyes, because he was too protective to let a person be exposed like that.

“Who’s that?”

“Just a person that will help.”

“Lives in the kingdom?”

“She practices out of there.”

Daryl stops himself.

“It’s a woman?”

Richard frowns, suddenly becoming impatient.

“What’s that matter? She got more balls than you and me together. She’s not gonna die, but when the saviors come and find their friends dead, they will follow the trail and go to the gun’s cache, then to the open field and they’ll try to attack this woman…”

Daryl frowns, growing impatient as well.

“What’s 'er name?”

“They won’t kill her, but that’s gonna show Ezekiel what he needs to do. He will see she was about to get hurt because of the saviors and just then he will fight.”

Richard’s betrayal begins to unfold in front of Daryl’s eyes, but he doesn’t like what he hears, and as a reflection, his hand tightens on the crossbow.

“'er name. What is it?”

“She is tough. She will live.”

The pieces of the puzzle begin to fit in and Daryl starts to have a complete view of Richard’s plan, but he doesn't want to act recklessly until he hears it with his own ears.

“Say 'er damn name!”

He needs to hear it to be sure. However, although his threatening look makes Richard almost surrender, he shows no fear, showing all his disinterest towards your life.

“(Y/N)”

Containing himself so as not to kill Richard at that very moment with a single arrow in his skull is the hardest thing Daryl ever did. But his body is shaking with anger; the blood on his veins freezes as he listens to that man and how he put his wife’s life in danger without remorse. As if your life is worth nothing, as if you didn’t have someone to defend you.

“Are ya fuckin’ crazy?” Daryl talks with a low, yet angry voice. “Ya jus’ dared to put in risk ma wife’s life jus’ ‘cause ya think she can handle a group of saviors?”

“You two told Ezekiel that anything had to be done to stop the saviors.”

Again, even when he has the chance, Daryl uses all his strength to not shoot an arrow in Richard’s face, and he walks around Richard to take his things before leaving that place.

“No.”

“She’ll live. Listen… this is how this has to happen. This is how we will get rid of the saviors. You two stayed in the kingdom for a reason: to prove to Ezekiel we can kill the savior. Together. So we can all have a future.”

“No!” Daryl passes him by, walking away from him.

“If we don’t do something people are gonna die!” Richard walks towards him and Daryl faces him. “People who wants to live!”

“Get the hell away from ma wife, ya hear me?”

Daryl gets close to him, looking straight into his eyes. Richard backs away, but hearing the roar of the cars that approaches in the distance attracts his attention. Daryl drops his backpack off his shoulder and holds his crossbow, watching the saviors’ path toward them coming down the hill.

There, Richard looks at Daryl.

“It’s them. We can wait for things to go bad, lose people, or we can do the hard thing…” He glances back at the saviors for a few seconds before looking at Daryl again. “Or choose our fates for ourselves.”

“No.”

Richard shrugs.

“Sorry.”

He turns around to carry out his plan with or without Daryl’s help, but Daryl drops his crossbow and takes Richard by the collar of his t-shirt to push him to the ground. He tries to fight back, but Daryl holds him with his own arm close to Richard’s neck, to then punch him, over and over until a river of blood descends from his nose to cover part of his face. Richard whines taking a canteen next to his face and hit Daryl, falling onto a side as both crawl on the ground to take their weapons to aim at their faces when they get up.

Richard breathes through his parted and broken lips and nods towards the saviors.

“There will be more. Or they will come back later, and we will have another chance. But we are running out of time. Your people need the kingdom to beat the saviors… We have to make sacrifices in one way or another. Guys like us… we’ve already lost so much.”

Daryl sees in his eyes the sadness for his loss, but that would never justify taking the life of another person to win that fight, not that way.

“Ya don’t know me.”

“I know that (Y/N) is stronger than us.”

To Richard’s surprise, Daryl lowers his crossbow, but the fierce look in his eyes is enough to make Richard take a step back.

“I’ll tell ya this jus’ once: If ma wife gets hurt, she dies, she catches a fever, she gets taken out by a walker, she gets hit by lighting, anythin’ happens to her, I’ll kill ya. Even if she jus’ gets a small cut in ‘er body, I’ll kill ya. So from now on: don’t talk to 'er, don’t look at 'er, don’t breathe near 'er. Fuck, don't even think about 'er.”

Richard holds his breath, looking at Daryl straight in his eyes.

“I would die for the kingdom.”

Daryl looks back at him, without any fear but with boiling anger.

“Why don’t ya?”

And then, he takes his backpack, his crossbow, and Daryl leaves.

When you turn off the lamp on the night table of your room, the light of the night comes in softly through the closed window, and you lay down sideways on your side of the bed as Daryl covers you with the blanket.

“Ya won’t take your clothes off?” He asks as he hugs you from behind.

“No…” You lie. “I’m cold.”

“I can help ya with that.” He says softly and moves to get closer to you. His arm hold you against him, giving you part of his warm. “Don’t worry ‘bout anythin’. No one ain’t gonna hurt ya. We’ll leave this place in a few days.”

You hold his hand on yours, waiting for him to fall sleep.

The anxiety and the fear inside you become one within you as the minutes pass in a dead silence. But suddenly, the world around you seems like a lie because everything is as quiet as if there were no walkers on the other side of the big gates, as if Richard hadn’t tried to hurt you without any remorse. Daryl told you because you already knew that something was happening and because he wanted you to stop going to that open field to practice. He couldn’t protect you without telling the truth. However, what hurt you the most is thinking how a life could mean nothing in the hands of other people: as if they had any rights over it. But the truth hits you hard too; because you did the same thing the first time you defended yourself from someone who tried to kill you for your weapon.

That didn’t make you a killer, too? Then, the guilt falls on you, the harsh reality of a murderer who tries to justifies a murder, just as Richard tried to do, just as you did. Everyone there, good or bad people were doing the same thing. Killing. Taking lives away. And you realized you couldn’t be part of all that. Not because you were weak but because you didn’t want to be the survivor that sees its friends die. And what if you die in the middle of the battle? Dying and causing pain to others, was that worth it? Or to stay alive but live in a constant pain? That life was like playing Russian roulette: none of you knew who could die or live, but all had to play. No exception. But you couldn’t stay and do it, so that night, you left before the game started.

That same night, you leave your backpack on the small bed and look around the place in that cold lonely night. It is a two-bedroom cabin. It is old, small but cozy, much better than a bed in the kingdom. This was a place you found days ago without telling anybody, not even Daryl. And as you lay down there, you hope that is the last time you start a new beginning far from killing, far from the fear of losing people, even if you had just lost your husband.

In the very early morning, near the garden of the Kingdom, a commotion catches Morgan and King Ezekiel’s attention. They run to the group of people who gathers around a fight, but no one is able to stop a wild Daryl, who is over Richard, punching him over and over until Morgan takes him by the arms and pulls him out of Richard before he could kill him. Daryl gets up and breathes hardly through his parted lips, watching Richard still on the ground and unable to move, or breathe.

“What is happening?!” Ezekiel asks, holding Richard and looking around. “Walk away, people. There is a lot to do today.”

The people listen, and Ezekiel glances at Daryl.

“Tell me right now why you did this.”

“That piece of shit did somethin’ to ma wife. She left!” Daryl is about to fall over Richard again, but Morgan holds him back. “I told him to stay away from ‘er!”

Ezekiel gets up leaving Richard on the ground, too weak to get himself up.

“What did Richard do to (Y/N)?”

Daryl looks at Ezekiel, not wanting to say what happened.

“Let him tell ya, I’ll go find ma wife.”

Daryl takes his crossbow from the ground and walks away with big steps towards the gates. Behind him, Morgan is following him.

“Daryl… Did (Y/N) leave a note?”

But he doesn’t stop.

“She wanted to get away from this fight. She doesn’t wanna see 'er friends being killed.”

“Because she knows that some of us could die.”

Daryl hates the way Morgan talks, like if Daryl didn’t understand that could happen. So, he turns around, giving Morgan a threatening look.

“Don’t talk to me like I was a damn child. Killin’ the saviors is the only way for me to make sure ma wife and friends will have a safe life.”

“Even if someone dies in the process?”

But Daryl doesn’t answer, and he yells at the man in charge of the gates to open it up. He walks out, completely sure he would find you sooner or later.

During a silent and almost deafening sunset, you walk through the forest near your house, with the quiver on your back and the bow in your hand, looking for some animal to eat. Everything is as it should be in the forest, everything there belongs to its place. Except you. But still listening to the birds sing in the long distance, you make your way until you find a squirrel that moves from here to there on the branch of a tree. You pull an arrow from the quiver; you connect it to the bow and lift it to the correct height close to your face, holding the air in your lungs. However, as a sudden sadness covers you because you couldn’t stop killing, another arrow flies close to you and sinks into the animal’s body.

You gasp in acknowledgment, so you turn around to see Daryl walking close to you, with your heart beating fast against your chest. He stops in front of you, looking at you through his head slightly down, just like he did when he was sad. He did that just with you, because just with you he was able to show how he truly felt, without feeling ashamed of feeling weak.

“This is the moment when you ask me why the hell I left you.” You say through the knot in your throat, but he just shakes his head softly.

“This is the moment when I say I missed ya.” He approaches you, almost afraid as if you are not real, and he puts his arms around you to embrace your waist, hiding his face in your neck, at the same time that you let go of the bow to feel him close to you. “I missed ya.”

As you sit down in your little bed, kicking your black boots off, Daryl leaves his backpack on the table in the middle of the room and looks inside for something. But before you know what it is, he throws it at you and you catch it perfectly. It is a peach, because he knows how much you like them. As you clean it against your clothes, Daryl sits in the chair that gives him a perfect view of you, resting his elbow against the wood, holding his chin in his hand.

“Explain it to me ‘cause I don’t get it.” He makes a gesture with his hand to point around the place. “I said I would protect ya. We were ‘bout to leave that place. But ya just walked away in the middle of the night… Why?”

His voice fill with disappointment pierces your ears, but you try to gather your ideas so that he understands your reasons.

“I’m tired. I’m afraid. And I don’t wanna see any of our friends being killed…and I realized I can’t neither. It’s too much to handle. I can kill, like, a person, and that’s what really scares me. I know they killed our friends, but this revenge, or justice, or whatever you want to call it: it will only endanger our people, and we will see more blood. And then we will have nightmares about their deaths, and we will not know what is worse: if sleep only to have nightmares about their deaths, or live awake in this real-life nightmare. I know I’m being selfish because they are willing to fight, but I can’t lose you or them.” You feel the tears in your eyes, but you rub your face with your hands to not let them fall right now. “I don’t want to be around if that happens.”

Daryl looks at you, rubbing his finger against his lip, trying to contain his own anger. He didn’t want to act like he used to, he didn’t want to yell at you for leaving him just the way you did. But that was hard for him too, it was too painful, almost impossible to bear the days he was without you, thinking that something bad could have happened to you because he couldn’t protect you. But right there, in front of you, he wants to tell you how scared he was when he didn’t find you by his side that morning, and that he couldn’t sleep the days after that.

“So what?” He says with a raspy voice. “What ‘bout me? I’m yer husband. Did ya think I’d jus’ sit there and do nothin’? That I would jus’ let ya get away from me? That was yer plan? Make me love ya and then leave me?”

Daryl was the strongest man, but the weakest too when it was about you. And you knew, that in that world or in the previous one, love was still a dangerous feeling, sometimes even more dangerous than a walker.

“That’s not true, Daryl: you know it.”

He laughs harshly.

“I realized I don’t know anythin’ about the woman I’m married to.”

“Ouch… That hurts.” You chuckle tiredly, then sighing until you found the right words. “I think it would be better if you get angry with me, if you kick the chair and tell me what I did wrong.”

Daryl takes a deep breath, trying to calm his wild heart.

“Nah. Ya are here with me now.” But, suddenly, he stands up, taking off his vest in his way to you, his gaze locked on yours as he begins to unbutton his shirt next. “But I think I need ya to learn your lesson in a different way.”

Your mouth is dry, and your own heart begins to beat at an alarming pace.

“Daryl… what are you doing?”

As he reaches the edge of the bed, he tosses his shirt aside, while, with the gentleness that didn’t usually characterize him on the outside, his thumb caresses your soft cheek, a warm contrast to his finger.

“Have ya ever been scared of me?”

Though he’s referring to that situation happening now in particular, you know he’s asking in general as well, if, perhaps, at some point in your marriage, you’ve seen him through different eyes. Perhaps with a fear reflected in them, a silent fear that would be overwhelming for him. But you shake your head, your gentle gaze on his ocean-colored eyes.

Daryl was a tender lover behind his tough appearance, and you were never scared, not by him.

“No. You know damn well I have not.”

“Not even once?”

His own doubt makes you smile a little bit.

“Not even once, Dixon, I know well you have a soft spot for me.”

“Hell yeah, woman, n’ only for ya.” He says, so serious like never before. “So if that’s true, lay down n’ lemme show ya how damn much I missed ya.”

You do as he tells you, your gaze on the wooden roof, feeling the knot in your stomach traveling to your lower part as he unbuttons and unzips your black jeans. It's torturously slow, but you know he's doing it as part of the lesson, because he's never denied you pleasure before. Since your marriage began, he was always a giver, taking your own pleasure as his own. It was like a rule for him to give you all the pleasure, and then give you a little more.

But when he removes all your clothes and his breath and his beard tickle your most sensitive area, your hands look blindly something to hold yourself onto, his long hair maybe, but he just pushes your hands away.

“No touchin’.” He says, dangerously low.

However, when his strong hands cling to your hips, his mouth sinking into you, you let out a tight gasp, your knees bending up. But the way he is moving against you as you move against him, too, makes him feel so needy for you, like he is in a beautiful hell. Your hands still in the air closed almost painfully, eyes closing too, arching your back, and mouth falling finally open.

“Daryl, wait–”

“Shut it.” He warns you, keeping his warm mouth close to your entrance. “Fuck, why ya always taste so damn good? Makes me wanna live in between your legs all the fuckin’ time.”

He wasn’t normally a very talkative person, but when Daryl was on the right mood he loved saying things that he knew would turn you on, leading you to the edge of being out of breath. He loved playing with you like he does again, his mouth kissing and licking and sucking, fingers holding onto the bones on your waist. The angry animal inside him woke up when you moan with open lips, sending a painful throbbing to the hardness in his pants.

He sucks hard on you, making you shake against him, holding yourself onto the blanket even when you want to hold his hair. But feeling you so needy for him, and only for him makes him feel about to explode, but he stops himself from lower one of his hand to his pants to stroke his manhood.

Daryl starts to feeling you moving against his face, and he takes pride that he could make you cum without being inside you, yet, because he’s not going to let you do that, hell no. No matter how much he enjoyed torturing you that way, he is ready to give you so much pleasure you wouldn’t think ever again about leaving him, no when he couldn’t live without you anymore.

So Daryl stands up, removing his hands from your body, giving you the time to catch some air as he unbuckles his belt, like the most erotic image in the world. His strong and naked chest rises and falls as he locks eyes with you, his mouth in a tight line as he removes his belt, not ready to smile even a little to you as you bite your own lips, hiding a smile.

“I will never be scared of you, but it scares me a little bit what is coming.”

He is kind of angry, but not with you, but with the idea of being a little bit animalistic, like to roll over onto your knees so he could hold himself on your hips, maybe even on your hair, pulling it just a little like he has done a few times when you two were getting playful.  

“Ya should be.” He says, so low and dangerous as he unbuttons his pants. “Now take the rest of yer clothes off.”

You swallow the lump in your throat, sitting back down to pull off your black t-shirt, with nothing underneath. The complete view of your now naked body is such a temptation for him, so much that he thinks he would give up soon. But no, he’s stronger than that.

“Now lay back down, n’ spread your legs open for me.”

Fuck. You think that couldn’t get any hotter, but you know it could with that look in his deep gaze, so you lick your dry lip and look back at him as he kicks his boots off, taking off his pants and his boxer next, while, still sitting, you try to look up only, even when there is a whole spectacle at the level of your own gaze.  

“Should I call you sir while I do that?” You smile sweetly at him, playing innocent.

And for the first time in the night, Daryl smiles back.

“I’m yer fuckin’ husband, peach, the same person that’s gonna make love to ya, maybe that way ya won’t leave me ever again. Now do as I tell ya.”

Though you can hear the sadness in his words, his voice doesn’t waver, not when he’s so ready to do what he promised, so with nothing else on your mind, you lay back down on the bed, spreading your legs as an invitation that Daryl immediately takes. He lays on top of you, and you can almost feel his own heartbeat as he sinks into you with one hand, while the other arm holds him up too close to your face. You feel him throbbing inside of you, and he holds himself on his legs, his free hand looking for the softness of your face to hold you there, kissing you deeply.

Your own hands hold his lower back, and this time, he lets you touch him freely. The warm of your fingers is melting him, but when he starts to move, he drowns your moans and his tense grunts in a kiss. His calloused hand grasps your face with a firmness but a sweet touch, as if you are a piece of glass, the most precious in the world, in his world.

Daryl never felt so primitive and he is too drunk with lust, but there is something intense and so erotic in the idea that he could push himself deeper into you, and that you would take everything and even beg for more. So he does, he presses into you deeper, harder than ever but not in a painful way because hurting you wasn’t in his nature, but he is taking you to the very edge in no time. You called out his name against his mouth as he starts moving faster against you, making you feel the tension building up on your stomach and in between your legs, so hot like hell itself, as intense as the beginning of the orgasm that is about to hit you soon if he keeps moving that way.

But it feels different from other times, short but in a new kind of intense. His thumb caresses your check, his forehead resting on your just a moment before he buries his face in your neck, the same finger sliding over your bottom lip, and that little action is so hot. The sounds he starts making against your neck are an arousing melody, sounds he muffles against your hair on his own path to much-needed release.

Your hands hold his lower back even harder, pulling him against you, your mouth against his shoulder, drowning out the forbidden sounds that come from between your lips, the view of the world fading as you close your eyes while letting out a hot cry as he makes you cum.

Finally, Daryl spills himself inside you, breathing through parted lips as he catches his breath.

After a long minute, or maybe two and when you can breathe again, you speak softly.

“I’m sorry, I never wanted to leave you alone, or make you think that I don't love you.”

Daryl raises his head, getting lost in the way you ask for his forgiveness with your eyes, too. But in that moment, he knows everything will be alright.

“So ya won’t leave me again?” He asks softly, but, too deep in your own sadness to speak properly, you just shake your head. “Good. ‘Cause ya got to know I’ll chase ya to the end of the fuckin’ world, burnin’ everythin' on ma way ‘till I find ya.”

[chaoticbardlady99]

I Wondered If I Could Come Home? (Astarion x F! Reader)

Synopsis- It’s been 4 months since you last saw Astarion and 3 months since you killed the Netherbrain with your other companions. Shortly after, you settled down in Silverymoon to begin a life out there and try to push Astarion out of your mind- except it can never be that easy. You shortly discover you are pregnant with his child- a child that could kill you during childbirth. Scared and alone- Shadowheart stays with you to help you deliver the baby and keep you alive.

While out at the local market, Shadowheart runs into Gale and invites him over for dinner. Gale has unexpected company.

CW: Pregnancy, mentions of potential death during birth, mentions of nudity, mentions of NSFW smut

To my fellow DND fans- no this is probably not canon compliant, yes I’m upset about that, but look I really needed to write this so sue me I guess

Author note- Self indulgent, I have baby fever, but don’t want a baby fic. I’m unsure of how long this will be or if it will have more parts-it depends on how angsty I feel, but I need to have like six different ideas to think about at a time soooo 😂

*This hasn’t been edited ✨well✨so please forgive me

*again, no fucking clue who’s picture it is, but it sure as shit isn’t mine so if it’s yours- reach out so I can give credit!

You keep yourself propped up against the sink in the kitchen as Shadowheart holds your hair out of your face and dabbing away the cold sweat that drips down your neck.

You are really sick of being morning sick. It’s absolutely the worst thing in the world- well besides your potential death from carrying your little girl inside of you. You sometimes think Astarion may get his wish- you may just die screaming.

You dry heave one last time- not a single thing comes up because you haven’t kept a single thing down since two mornings ago. Your morning sickness is inconsistent and comes on with little to no warning.

It’s been five months since you conceived this fricken kid, but it was like all the symptoms hit after you killed the Netherbrain.

A part of you really wishes you had somehow known before then- maybe it would have changed the cruel fate that ended your relationship with Astarion. You were literally pregnant in the middle of fighting Cazador. You think about what he last said to you all the time and just sob hysterically- like it happened yesterday.

A deeper part of you feels abandoned, but you blame yourself for him leaving. You should have been more convincing or maybe you shouldn’t have flat out told him no and explained why in the hells you didn’t want him to ascend.

For example- you didn’t want to lose him to some evil version of himself.

Ironically, you lost him anyway and are pregnant with his fucking child who insists on occasionally making you miserable.

Despite your inherent sadness, anger, and sickness, you find you are actually quite excited to meet her. You haven’t settled on a name yet and Shadowheart has been very helpful in regards to making sure you are healthy and strong for delivery. She’s your best friend and you could not be more grateful for her.

“I’ll go back to the market today and get you more of those herbs,” Shadowheart says quietly when she talks to you, “they seemed to help last time?”

You nod- exhausted and your head is pounding. You and this kid are going to need to have a serious conversation. You will not be letting a second Acunin make you miserable before she is ever born.

Shadowheart guides you to your bed upstairs, standing behind you in case you get hit with a wave of vertigo- which usually happens post vomit episode.

You pull your curtains closed- thankful that the desperate hope in your heart led you to buying black out curtains. You close your door and lay down on your bed- tears spilling down your cheeks freely.

You miss him terribly. You shouldn’t. You should positively hate him, but everyday of this pregnancy makes you ache for him. You should be doing this together.

You know it’s hormones- the weepiness, the intense longing, and the Gods awful horniness. Dreams are the worst. You wake up a squirming disaster at least three times a week with your skin burning hot with memories of Astarion touching you.

You are happy that isn’t the case currently, but the weepiness sucks too. Remembering how he used to curl around you, the way it felt to have him kiss you on the forehead, and all those late night conversations with (now empty) promises. You curl yourself around your pillows, willing your imagination to pretend it’s him, and you sob until you fall asleep.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Astarion tries to contain his excitement and fear as he follows Gale and Shadowheart to your home. Finally, after searching for literal months, he was going to see you again.

Astarion has been haunted by the last words he had said to you for what feels like eons now. He hadn’t meant it at the time and he certainly doesn’t mean it now.

He had been too afraid to come back to you after everything he had said. Astarion decided you probably hate him anyway so he tried to move on.

He tried being with other people (it always failed miserably because they weren’t you), he drank until he couldn’t remember a damn thing, and when all else failed, he began his search for the Ring of the Sunwalker.

After the nightlife of Baldur’s Gate lost it’s appeal and he finally found a ring location, Astarion found himself in front of Gale’s door in Waterdeep- begging him of all people to help him.

The wizard had been puzzled and melancholy when he realized Astarion was at his door. Astarion told him every little piece of how he feels about you, how much he misses you, and how he wants to be able to give you the life that you deserve. Astarion was practically on the verge of hysteria while trying to make his case.

Thus began the search for the Ring of the Sunwalker.

They were able to locate and obtain one after a grueling three month long journey and some help from one of Gale’s old friends. Then, they headed straight to Silverymoon- your last known whereabouts.

Running into Shadowheart had felt like a miracle, but to also have her living with you had made the trip even easier. Except Shadowheart was being really really weird towards him.

When Gale first asked if Astarion could come along too, Shadowheart had asked Astarion why he wanted to come and see the person he “hoped died screaming?”

Astarion had flinched at the anger and venom in Shadowheart’s voice. He figured the others would be mad, but he was hoping maybe Shadowheart would give him a little easier time like Gale had. Astarion was genuinely surprised by how quick she was to be defensive of you and your whereabouts. When Gale confirmed that Astarion was telling the truth, Shadowheart reluctantly said he could come.

The three arrive at the front of your shared townhome- it faces the beach and has the perfect amount of windows for the sun to light up the house, but one of the rooms is hidden from sight with heavy, black out curtains.

Shadowheart turns to both of them, “Tav might not be able to join us… she’s been sick for a bit now and is… recuperating.”

Astarion feels his heart drop to his stomach.

“Sick? For how long?”

Shadowheart shifts on her feet uncomfortably, “5 months, but it got worse around 3 months.”

“Tav has been sick for that long?” Gale exclaims, “why didn’t you write!? I could have helped.”

“This particular affliction is one you wouldn’t understand,” Shadowheart says with a finality that suggests the conversation is done as she leads them into the kitchen.

Shadowheart immediately gets fussing with the herbs while Gale looks around the house. Astarion is still unsure of what he should be doing. The house engulfs him in your scent and he feels positively intoxicated. You must be really sick though because your scent smells different- not bad at all, just different.

Does he talk to Shadowheart? Does he look around with Gale?

Or does he sneak off and find you? Astarion doesn’t want to waste anymore time than he already has. Slowly, he creeps towards the stairs.

“Don’t even think about it, Astarion,” Shadowheart warns.

Astarion looks at her and then back at the stairs. He does this a couple times until Shadowheart appears to be annoyed enough that she’s let her guard down a bit.

Astarion takes off up the steps and he hears Shadowheart and Gale coming up right behind him.

Astarion hears a dry heave from down the hallway and he goes racing for the door.

If you are as sick as Shadowheart has suggested (5 months is crazy long), Astarion may not have much time with you and Gods he needs to take advantage of the time he does have.

Shadowheart be damned.

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

You wake up feeling even worse than you did when you fell asleep. Your headache feels like it’s taken on a life on it’s own and Gods you are going to vomit all over the floor if you don’t move NOW!

You get up with an impossible amount of speed for how dizzy you are and you grab the pail on your nightstand and heave painfully.

You are rocking back and forth, groaning as more stomach acid comes up because again, not able to even keep anything down.

You hear a pair of footsteps and then Shadowheart screaming after-

“ASTARION! THEY ARE SICK! YOU NEED TO WAIT!”

“I have been looking for them for months now,” you hear him hiss, “if they are sick, I need to see them. If this has lasted five months- then who knows how much time I’ve wasted!”

“Will you stop being selfish for five minutes!? It’s not about you and who even says she wants to see you!?”

Shadowheart and Astarion are yelling in front of your door now. You feel tears prick your eyes- Astarion is here. Here here. A flurry of excited kicks from inside you catches your attention and a feeling of blissful happiness comes over you. Oh look, the nausea is gone. Of course it is.

“Traitor,” you whisper before laying down on your bed for a moment.

You are very happy that your unborn daughter appears to be pleased and feels good about her dad being on the other side of the door. You, on the other hand, are less than optimistic.

Wasted time doing what? And why did Shadowheart say I was sick!? In what world was that going to keep him from going upstairs!? Especially if he, your mind pauses, cares about me? Again?

Which you hope he does- you would hope Shadowheart wasn’t so sick of taking care of you that she brought him here to finish the job. Maybe this is all one big show.

Another, “I WILL DO WHAT I PLEASE” from Astarion, a “YOU SELFISH BASTARD” from Shadowheart, and a “Please can’t we all just be nice, catch up, and get along?” from Gale finally gives you the motivation to get up. The arguing feels far too much like being in camp again. You pinch the bridge of your nose, willing the growing headache to go away.

It doesn’t so you change into a pair of longer cotton pajama pants, a t-shirt that is unfortunately showing off your bump more than you’d like, and then you swing open the door in tired annoyance.

You are met with Astarion looking at you- his eyes scanning up and down your body- settling on your stomach. His expression is unreadable- it’s somewhere between lust, love, grief, and heartbreak. Embarrassed by Astarion’s intense gaze, you look over at Gale who is all smiles for you.

“Congratulations Tav!!!” Gale practically yells, making you wince, “the father is a lucky man.”

“I don’t think he considers himself a lucky man,” you say pointedly before turning to Astarion, “or do you?”

Astarion’s face changes entirely with your words. His eyes look at you, round and soft. His eyes are full of adoration and need- a look you never thought he would give you again. You have to fight the urge to grab him and drag him into your bedroom. You will not let the hormones win- you will be strong.

“I- it’s- I mean,” Astarion is fumbling over his words, “you are carrying my child?”

“Yes,” you say grumpily, crossing your arms,” and she’s been giving me nothing but trouble. Thanks to your genetics, I’m sure. This is day two of not being able to keep a damn thing down and this fucking headache is UNBEARABLE so please for the love of every God keep the arguing down.”

Astarion is still looking at you with a mystified expression- taking you in as if for the first time in his entire life. You look back towards Gale and Shadowheart- you are entirely too self-conscious and way too excited to see him for him to be looking at you like that. You are trying to be mad dammit!

Shadowheart gazes at you and your surely red tipped ears with amusement before she says, “I’ll go and get the potion ready for you- that should hopefully help.”

“I will- uh,” Gale says awkwardly, looking between you and Astarion, “join you! I might need to know which herbs to use… in the future?”

“Planning on getting pregnant Gale?” You say with a smirk.

Gale snorts at you, “Dear friend, as wonderful as you look right now- none of the side effects sound appealing.”

“Oh they most certainly aren’t,” you say,” but thanks for thinking I look ‘wonderful’. I feel, well, disgusting.”

“Gods, how could you even think that?” Astarion blurts out, appearing shocked that he even said it, “you look like…. A vision. A wonderful, stunning vision, Darling.”

Shadowheart and Gale excuse themselves as you struggle to find the words for Astarion’s comment. Your entire body feels like it’s on fire and you feel yourself begin to melt a little bit. You feel your emotions bloom into something resembling spring as he steps closer to you- looking at you with pleading eyes.

You clear your throat, “would you like to come into my room and talk?”

Astarion nods eagerly, following behind you so close that you once again have to remind yourself that ripping off the clothes of someone who literally told you they wanted you to die screaming was not healthy- at least not until you get a proper apology.

You sit against your headboard as Astarion walks around your room- running his fingers along the bassinet and rocking chair in the corner. You still can’t get a read on him.

“A girl?”

His question breaks the air.

“Yes,” you smile at him, “no name yet though.”

“I’m sure you’ll pick a nice one,” he says with a smile, but his tone is entirely too melancholic.

A painful thump in your heart fills your body with sadness. He doesn’t want to be involved. Of course he doesn’t want to be involved. You are his knocked up ex-girlfriend. What were you expecting? The lump forming in your throat is unbearable.

“You don’t want to be involved?”

Oh good Gods you are crying. Astarion rushes over to you the minute your tears begin to fall- sitting in front of you on the bed. He reaches out and gently wipes your tears away as he speaks.

“I want to be involved so badly it hurts,” his voice comes out scratchy and emotional, “but that is your decision, not mine. You have been on your own for months, my Love. Instead of trying to come back and make it better- I pushed it off until I thought I could give you what you deserved- a life in the sun.”

You almost whine in protest when his hands leave your face. He twists the ring around his index finger before continuing, avoiding your gaze, “But maybe I was wrong. Maybe what you deserve is a person that isn’t so damaged. Someone who can give you what you actually deserve which is a loving partner who hasn’t hurt you over and over again- a man worthy of being a father to ou- I mean your child.”

His confession and the tears that are streaming down his face are enough for you. Yes, you absolutely want to scream and yell at him, but you also ache for him. You can’t fault the man for being a slave for 200 years and then not taking it very well when you told him what to do. You always knew you would forgive him if he came back- you never thought he would, but here he is and like he said- there is no reason to keep wasting time.

“She is our child, Star,” you whisper and guide his eyes to look at you, “I want you to be involved. I don’t care what you think I deserve either. I have missed you so horribly since you left. It’s almost pathetic really. I’ve tried to blame it on the hormones, but… I don’t know. The picture has felt incomplete up until now.”

You absentmindedly put your hand on your stomach- receiving a kick. You glare at the place where your hand is resting.

“Will you stop kicking me for five minutes!?” You scream, “I WAS IN THIS BODY FIRST!”

Astarion looks at you bewildered and confused, but quickly realizes you aren’t talking about him. The smile that spreads across his face is wide and Astarion gingerly moves closer. You are still a little cautious- needing to protect not only yourself, but also your unborn child. He moves to the right of you and goes to move you just slightly so he can slip in behind you.

“Could I? I mean if it’s not crossing any boundaries!”

Astarion is on edge- you can tell that much, but he doesn’t look at you like he did that last time you saw him- Astarion is looking at you like you are the most precious individual who has ever walked this earth.

You nod shyly, and then Astarion slots himself behind you, your back against his chest, his face in the crook of your neck, and his legs on either side of yours. He cautiously puts his hands on your stomach and is immediately kicked.

Astarion laughs with joy, “she’s strong!”

“Strong willed and strong physically,” you shake your head and you are laughing a bit now too, “you may just get your wish yet.”

“What wish?”

It had slipped. You hadn’t meant to bring it up again- or maybe you did. You want to know for sure if he still feels that way, but the confusion in his voice says he doesn’t. You go rigid and go to dismiss it when you feel his posture change behind you, his grip loosening ever so slightly.

“Right… that.”

The silence is nerve-wracking. You’ve lost him again, you are sure of it. A stray tear begins to roll down your cheek.

“Astarion-“

“No, let me think, Darling. I want to make sure I say everything I want to say correctly.”

You continue to sit there in silence, he places soft kisses on your neck. You feel him smile against your skin at the needy moan that escapes your lips. You absentmindedly reach out for one of his hands and begin to play with his fingers while he thinks. Astarion used to let you do this all the time while you were traveling- it helps you feel grounded.

“I was so consumed by all that power in the moment,” he says slowly, “I wasn’t thinking. By the time I had realized what I had done, I felt like it was already too late- you most likely hated me and moved on.”

You have to bite your tongue- you want to scream. Hate him? Never. You had been miserable without him around for that last month of traveling. Your heart had felt like a dead weight in your chest and you had been moving around like a zombie.

“So I tried to move on… I even tried to be with others, but I just couldn’t do it. It’s selfish, but I want you. I never want anything bad to happen to you- I certainly don’t ever want you to die screaming. I don’t want you to ever carry a child that is not mine.”

You are surprised by the warmth in your core when he says his last sentence. There is something so primal there that you have to really focus on what he is saying next.

Astarion clears his throat before finishing speaking, “I don’t want to be without you anymore- four months is too long. I don’t want to miss out on anymore of your pregnancy and I want to be here for you- with you- doing this together like we should have been doing this whole time. I was a horrible fool- please give me another chance. Please, Darling. I love you- so so much more than I ever thought anyone could ever love someone.”

Astarion’s words hang in the air and you are trying not to begin crying for the 15th billion time. This is what you had wanted to hear all along. You can feel his tears on the collar of your shirt- the way he inhales as if to memorize your scent like this is the last time. Astarion is not expecting you to say yes- you know that because he’s starting to loosen up, pulling away from you so that he can respect your decision.

“I love you too,” you whisper, “I don’t want to be without you anymore either. I forgive you- please stay.”

“I won’t be going anywhere unless you want me too, my Love.”

[aggieharkness]

And in her arms, she cradled your heart

Pairing: Lilia Calderu x reader

Summary: It was a perfectly normal day at the shop, a tarot reading here, a book there, but after picking up a couple of things at Walmart you asked Lilia to do a pregnancy roulette with you, a fun harmless joke you had seen on Tik Tok, though when you looked at the tests that perfectly normal day changed completely.

Warnings: pregnancy, age gap, magical conception. I don't think there's anything else that needs to go here, for now.

Authors note: alright, I have finally come up with a lovely way to start this story, though I must say that @renafisher27 helped immensely so I must give her credit as well. I haven't written pregnancies in a while, so please be gentle but tell me how it looks, if you like it and all that. I accept constructive criticism, and if there's anything you might want to see in this story, don't hesitate to ask, I'll add it to the best extent I can. Also available on Ao3. Finally, let's thank Patti Lupone for giving us Lilia Calderu, and Jac for writing her so beautifully.

Word count: 8827 (I've managed to write something short! It might not be the case for future chapters, you've been warned.)

I'm not leaving you, for anything in the world

The garden was quiet and beautiful this time of year, the lilies you had planted not that long ago blossoming under the warm light that came from the blue skies above, a gentle breeze crossing from the open glass doors of the shop all the way to the hanging chair you were resting on in a corner, watching as the leaves and flowers swayed to its gentle dance, bees jumping carefully in between the white and yellow frangipanis that climbed up the walls and fences, the only flower that Lilia had specifically requested, the rest of the garden for your hands to do as they pleased with. The aromas that filled the air with its wonderful floral tones mixed wonderfully with Lilia’s incense and rosemary candles, only eclipsed whenever she came out of the bath spreading a citrusy perfume all over the house, though you would never tell her to stop using that shampoo and gel, it was wonderful to go anywhere and pick up a whiff of oranges or lemons, your mind travelling straight to her. Your eyes were closed as you soaked up the sun, head lulled back against a pillow, the book you had in your hands forgotten as your ears picked up on the buzzing of the bees and the chirping of the birds, the grass a perfect shade of emerald green.  

Lilia was watching through the kitchen window, letting her cup of tea rest on the counter as her eyes raked over your relaxed figure taking every inch of you in, from the way stray locks of your hair swayed in the breeze to how one of your feet dangled from the chair, brushing the cool grass with your toes. You had been a wonderful change in her boring life and every second she had spent without you in the Witches Road had been torture, but she had refused to let you go with her, she had told you that she would not be able to finish it if she had to worry about you and as much as you had tried to convinced her not to go you knew she had to. Parting had been a bittersweet affair, but she had promised you she would return, and everything would be alright afterwards, and you had believed her every word because Lilia had never ever lied to you or let you down. After her trial had ended and she had stayed behind she had thought of you, a single tear running down her cheek, but she had been at peace with her actions. If her sacrifice would save her coven and in extent you, she would die happy even if she knew it would break your heart, her mind wandering to you sitting by the door, waiting for her to come back when in truth she would never cross that threshold again, but then the impalement had never come. The road had expelled her and covered in mud she had crawled through the Earth until the evening sun had shone on her face, her palms pressed firmly over the ground as she breathed the fresh air that swayed over the yellow fields, tears of relief and pain clouding her vision.

She had walked home from the middle of nowhere trusting her magic to find her way back to you, embracing the rush that she had fought against for so long. The world had never seemed so beautiful before, the sky painted in oranges and blues, hot tears running down her cheeks as her bare feet walked through the warm grass, her dirty peppery ringlets stuck to the nape of her neck and forehead, but she did not care, not when she was thinking of you and how you would not have to mourn her forever, lost in a road that’s you would never be able to enter alone. By the time she had reached her shop the evening had moved onto night, gentle hues of purple and pink transitioning into a deep navy as the universe above appeared sprinkled with stars. She had pushed the door, surprised to see that you had left it open, the tiny bell that hung from the ceiling ringing melodiously to announce her return, and in slow motion you had pushed the beady curtain open to see who had come in so late at night only to find her. You had never doubted her, not for a minute, her robe flowing around your form as you rushed to her to take her in your arms, the odour of mud and sweat filling your lungs, but underneath all that her citrusy perfume remained. That night you had not let go of each other, not for a second, as well as the next day, though you had taken breaks from making love to talk about all those things she had never found the courage to speak of, tears and laughter filling up the room along with the hushed words that were spoken against each other’s lips.

Seeing you now through the window Lilia could not help but feel like the road had given her not only her confidence in her powers back, but the life she had never thought she deserved to live. Taking one sip of her nearly forgotten tea, she scrunched her nose at the taste, the usual cinnamon flavour leaving a soapy aftertaste on her tongue that she disliked tremendously. Forcing her eyes to tear from your form she dumped the entire thing down the sink, checking the pot to see if maybe she had forgot to rinse it, but there was no foam, simply the dark colour of the hot liquid. It was rather odd, tea usually lasted for really long periods of time, so she picked up the kettle and plugged it in to prepare a pot of vanilla and black tea, another favourite of you both, busing herself among the cupboards and such. It had also happened earlier that week that she had taken a bite of a cinnamon roll you had bought for her at Wendy’s and had had to spit the bite she had taken onto a napkin because of how horrible it had tasted to her; to you it was just as good as always. This was beginning to be a pattern, a sudden hate for cinnamon that she couldn’t quite understand, but it was not the end of the world, she thought, it would have been much worse had she suddenly developed an intolerance for chicken or cheesy fries. Just as she was thinking about a delicious bag of cheesy Doritos the kettle began to whistle, but even as she poured the hot water inside a clean pot that already had the leaves inside, she just couldn’t get the image of the Doritos out of her mind.  

The idea of having a whole bag just seemed to be seeping into her bones, making her ache as it had quickly shifted from something she might want to have to a need; she needed Doritos, and it was insane just how much. Lilia left the pot so the tea could brew, poking her head through the kitchen window. You looked so peaceful, so calm and relaxed on your free day from work, but she could not leave the shop, she was open for business today so you would have to go down to the store and get her a couple of bags, just to be safe.

-Darling, can you listen to me for a minute?

-I’m not asleep, I’m just laying here soaking in the sun like a lizard. What’s up?

-Can you do me a favour?

-It depends. If it involves clothes being taken off, I’m in, if it involves soap and dishes, sorry I’ll have to pass.

-Don’t get cheeky with me, as if you wouldn’t do the dishes if I promised to bed you two minutes later, but that’s not the favour. Can you go down to the store and get some bags of cheesy Doritos?

-Doritos? – you opened one eye to see her head poking through the window, the tender breeze that was twirling around in the garden caressing her face, making the lose curls sway around her cheeks and neck. She was looking at you with those big doe eyes that she knew you could not resist, her lower lip in between her teeth in an almost pleading manner. -You are not one to eat that sort of thing often.

-I know, but I’m really craving some, like I really need them. Could you do that? You can take the car down to Walmart if you want, get yourself something.

It wasn’t such a bad plan, you loved going down to Walmart or Target, and you had heard of this new flavour of Buldak ramen, maybe you could get yourself that. Nodding towards Lilia you stretched on the chair, feeling it sway as you moved but it quickly stopped when you placed your bare feet over the grass, letting its cool touch seep through your toes before picking up your book and heading inside. Lilia was quick to give you a peck as a thank you, a childish like grin on her lips as she poured herself a cup from the vanilla tea, the sip tasting perfectly fine. You noticed the other pot, sniffing the liquid and noticing the cinnamon aroma it held, your eyes drifting to Lilia’s back as she pushed the beady curtains away and stepped back into the shop. So, she still had a thing against cinnamon, okay, you thought as you put a pair of old vans on, leaving the book on the kitchen table; maybe she had just switched tastes, it had happened to you with strawberry ice cream, you used to hate it and now you just couldn’t get enough. Picking up the car keys, your wallet and your phone you stepped out into the shop just as an older woman was entering it, her eyes looking around for a minute before Lilia stood gently from her chair and greeted her, her voice sweet and tender as she guided her towards the table. You waved silently at her, Lilia smiling back at you, before stepping out into the street, opening her old Toyota from 2010 that was screaming to be retired, but neither of you had the money to get a new one.

It was a bit run down but clean, and you serviced it as often as you could, so it was not a threat to either of you or other drivers, but the pedals were beginning to get softer under the weight of your feet and the gear shift would probably need to be changed in a couple of years, maximum, which, to be fair, was shit but there just was no way you could magically fix it, you had tried without Lilia knowing. The journey wasn’t too long, the big Walmart that Eastview had was only like a five minute drive, and the parking lot was big enough that there were always empty spots, so after taking the next exit and swerving the car you braked and put it in neutral near the front doors before stopping it completely and stepping out, checking your phone to see a message from Lilia asking you if you could get a box of Cheez-it as well. You had to smile at that. She had been acting a bit weird in the last couple of weeks, though you weren’t sure if she had noticed, and the sudden development of craving for anything with a shit ton of cheese on it was one of the best things that was coming out from whatever she had going, the hate for cinnamon thought, that was peculiar because she really loved to use it for her candles and protection spells. Anyhow you were on a mission to find the cheesiest Doritos in existence, so you made your way to the automatic doors, shivering under the cold air of the AC. Divine Mother, it wasn’t that hot outside, you were going to freeze your tits off before you had reached the first aisle. Walking through dairy, meats and fish and the sauce aisle you finally reached the snacks one, eyes surveying every product you could see until you found the box of Cheez-it, which when you read the sign underneath it said that there was an offer of three boxes for only 23$, that was a good deal.

You threw them into your trolley and continued the search for the Doritos. You had barely taken three steps to the right when they came face to face with you, an assortment of over seven different flavour plus dips, your index finger tracing the shelves until you found a family size bag of cheese flavoured ones, which you picked two bags of and dumped them onto the trolley forgoing the dips all together as Lilia wasn’t a big fan of premade sauces and such, after all you had an entire cupboard filled with homemade tomato sauce that you two spent an entire day preparing every few weeks. They had moved things around, so finding which aisle had the ramen took you about four tries, including crossing the medicine aisle. In your house homemade remedies were the go-to, but Advil and Tylenol were the only two pills Lilia allowed to have in the bathroom cupboard, you had tried to get cough syrups, but it had been a lost battle. Your eyes moved over the colourful packages, still amazed at the number of medications that one could easily buy without a prescription until you came across all the pregnancy tests. Now wouldn’t that be funny, to come home and do a pregnancy roulette with Lilia. She would say no at first, of that you were sure, but hey, maybe you could actually get her to do it and you could have a laugh about two lesbians considering the possibility of being with child. Maybe it was only funny to you, but since you were the one paying you took two traditional ones and a Clearblue one, throwing them over the Doritos and continued your search for the Buldka, but when you arrived they had all flown, so you had to settle on the cheese hot chicken one because Lilia would most definitely steal from your plate and she only liked that one and the rose one.

You looked around for a few more minutes but didn’t see anything that you fancied at that moment, so you went to the checkout, the cashier looking at the tests and up to you a couple of times, a cheeky smile on her lips, but you didn’t say anything, simply paid for the items, wished her a good evening and went to get to your car. Throwing the items in the back seat you sat behind the wheel a sudden feeling of anxiety and anticipation blooming in your chest, though you did not understand why. The roads were empty and the spot you had left only twenty minutes before was still there, the nervousness that was spreading through every cell and limb nearly making you fuck up as you parked the car, but after a couple of minutes extra manoeuvring you finally turned the motor off and stepped out. There was an extra bag that you always carried in the trunk, and after you picked it up and placed the items inside you made your way to the store, noticing that it was empty once more; the woman must have left not that long ago as Lilia was tidying up her deck and blowing the candles she had lit. The sound of your footsteps made her lift her head, that beautiful ringlet that was always framing her face bouncing gently at the movement, her eye shinning up at you, her smile the most beautiful thing in the universe. You could remember the day you had stepped inside this shop, tired, done with the world kicking you in the butt, and to be honest you hadn’t expected to hear anything good or true, but the instant Lilia had appeared the universe stopped moving, time still as her plump lips smiled gently at you.

How were supposed to simply sit there when the most gorgeous woman you had ever laid eyes on was sitting across the table asking you to cut the deck. She had read you from front to cover, every single thing you had ever lived, every moment of happiness and pain, and the session you had expected to be no longer than fifteen minutes turned into an hour, and then a cup of tea to calm your nerves and then the secret that you were a green witch spilled out and you cried some more, but she was there to hold you and reassure you, whispering that she was a divination witch in your ear. You had entered her shop over two years ago and had never left, though you would never ever do if you had a say in it. She had healed you, protected you and taught you all the things that no one had ever bothered with, and in return you had given her all the love of your heart not spearing costs. Seeing her smiling up to you now was even better than that day, because this wasn’t a simple polite grin, it was her love speaking to you in every single way she could think of. Putting your hand inside the bag you took one of the Dorito bags out, her smile spreading wider, her hands clasping in front of her chest, rushing to you and giving you a delicious peck, the taste of vanilla tea lingering on her lips.

-Oh, thank you Y/N!

-You really are craving them.

-You don’t know. – she didn’t even wait until she was in the back, she ripped it open and pulled one perfectly shaped triangle, popping it in her mouth. The sigh of relief that she made as she chewed made you chuckle, following her into the kitchen so you could take the rest of the items out of the white plastic bag. Lilia was busy with her Doritos, but when she turned to ask you if you wanted some her eyes saw the boxes of pregnancy tests, her hand stopping mid-way to her mouth. – Why did you get these?

-You are going to think I’m stupid, but I thought we could take one each and do like a pregnancy roulette.

-That is the dumbest thing I’ve heard in a while, and I talk with Agatha and Rio on a daily basis.

-Okay, no need to be so harsh Calderu. – you carried on putting the Buldak and Cheez-it boxes away in the cupboard next to the stove where the cereal and a lonely bottle of Pringles were. - It’s just something fun and stupid we could do. You have been craving cheese like crazy and can’t stand cinnamon, can you imagine if yours came out positive?

-I really can’t leave you alone for one minute.

-No, you can’t. Come on Lils, I want to do it; you are not going to leave me hanging are you?

Your puppy eyes always managed to melt her and agree to anything, and this time it wasn’t going to be any different. It really was dumb, in her opinion, and a waste of money, but you wanted to do it, so why the hell not, you had got her the Doritos, and they had been family size, she owed you one. With a sigh she put the bag on the kitchen table but not before warning you not to touch them, wiping her hands on a tea towel and picking one of the boxes up to read the instructions as she made her way to the bathroom. One for you, you thought, picking up the other box to see what the hell you were supposed to do. You knew you were supposed to pee, but did it have to be on a cup or could just do it on the stick, you supposed it didn’t matter much as long it touched pee. A minute later Lilia came out with hers, and you quickly picked the extra one that came in the box and headed for the bathroom yourself after placing Lilia’s inside the now empty package. It really was easy but a bit messy, and you spend a whole minute washing your hands afterwards but when you stepped out you put in the box along with her, gently shaking it with a smirk on your lips, Lilia having picked up her bag of Doritos once again.

-And now we wait for three minutes or so.

-How much did the tests cost you?

-Why do you want to know?

-So, I can think of how much money you just wasted for “fun”.

-Oh, don’t be like that. – you poured yourself a cup of tea, the cinnamon pot already in the sink, sitting yourself next to Lilia as she carried on with her snack as if her life depended on it. - I’ve seen people doing it on Tik Tok, why not us?

-We are lesbians dear, unless you have forgotten how anatomy works, you can’t quite get pregnant the usual way.

-But there’s still the magical way, and I am a green witch, and I always get very excited when I’m with you.

-You are cheeky today.

Her kisses tasted like powdered cheese which wasn’t quite alright with you as you took another sip of the vanilla tea, but it could have definitely been worse. You could still remember a hot day in the summer of about one year ago when instead of using salt for her Bolognese pasta she had used sugar, a bit of a miscommunication issue after getting new jars, making lunch uneatable and forcing you to order uber eats. McDonalds was always a welcome meal after a hard day’s work even if that work had been lunch. Lilia took a Dorito out and handed it to you, but you declined, and she didn’t even give you the chance to change your mind before it was already in her mouth, the timer on your phone going off, breaking the comfortable silence that had filled the room as you both ate. Your heart was beating fast against your ribs, although you didn’t know why, both of you already knew the answers you were going to get, but it still raced as you picked up the box and shook it as if that could mix the two tests even further, a drumroll from your fingers against the kitchen table echoing around you both before you pulled one test out and placed it with the symbols against the wood, repeating the same action with the other one.

-At the count of three you pick one and I’ll pick the other and we show it to each other, okay?

-Fine, the sooner we are done with this the sooner you can go back to the garden, and I can relax without you in here.

-You hurt my feelings, Lilia. – in a faux feeling of pain, you turned your head away from her, a hand on your chest to make it even more dramatic, but it only lasted a second before you put your hand over one of the tests, curious. -Ready? One, two, three.

Lilia was a bit faster than you, and when she picked up her test and showed it to you, you saw only one line, relief washing through your veins. Children had never been a topic you two had discussed much and for some reason the idea of becoming a mum, be it by you expecting or not was something you had not considered until this very minute, but it was okay, it was negative. And then you looked up at Lilia, your hands showing the other test in her direction, and you saw how her face had turned white as milk, eyes wide, the weight of the world crushing her under its heaviness. Obviously in a hurry you turned the test to see a cross, and it wasn’t one strong line and a really faint one, no, it was a very clear cross. The world stood still right there and then, your blood running cold inside your veins for a second before you stared back at Lilia, but she had reacted opposite to you and she pushed herself off her chair to pick up the box of digital pregnancy tests, ripping it open with hurried breaths. She was clearly in distress and didn’t even bother to say a word as she took one and rushed to the bathroom, the box sliding across the table so you could take one as well, but your arms were suddenly frozen on the spot.

There was no way in hell it could be true, it had to be a false positive, you were both lesbians and neither of you had cheated, of that you were more than sure. At work there was no chance of you meeting decent people that could spark any interest whatsoever and even if they did, you would never ever hurt Lilia like that, and you knew that after all the pain and heartache she had gone through in four centuries she would never risk destroying something as precious as what you two had, something that had healed her and shown her what love was supposed to feel like. So how on Earth could one of you be expecting? It was a preposterous idea and yet there was something in your bones telling you that it was so, that it was very true, and that you and your magic were to be faulted. Lost in thought you hadn’t heard Lilia coming out of the bathroom, but you did hear her pacing behind your back for a few moments before everything turned quiet. Suddenly the world was rushing around you and you turned on your chair to see Lilia staring at the test she had in her hand, unmoving, her face unreadable. You knew you had to see, but part of you was terrified of what you might find out and yet you stood and on shaky legs you began to walk her way until you stood face to face, and your hands gently grabbed her wrists, moving them downward so you could see.

-Oh. Oh, Lilia. – it said pregnant plus a +3 weeks, meaning that in the time that had passed since she had returned from the Witches Road, since the night you had shared without a single care in the world, only loving each other, thanking the universe that the day you had said goodbye to Lilia wouldn’t be your last farewell, she had been creating a brand new life, nestled safely in her womb. This was your fault, you thought.

-Guess it wasn’t such a stupid thing to do after all.

-I’m so sorry, I know this wasn’t what we wanted, what we had planned. Oh Lilia, this is all my fault. What are we going to do?

-I’m the one who’s supposed to be panicking you know. – it was unnerving how calm she looked, how collected as she made her way to the closest chair, the bag of Doritos forgotten on the side of the table, her beautiful brown eyes unable to break their gaze from the test that she held tightly in her hands. You were quick to follow, kneeling in front of her with your hands on her knees, over her red and blue gown.

-I’m sorry.

-Don’t be. This is as much your fault as it is mine, neither of us thought your abilities could create life like this, not yet anyway.

-And what are we going to do? I mean, I’m glad to know why you’ve been acting kind of weird, but this … this is a baby, it’s not some thing you are going through and that will pass in a few days.

-I know. What do you think we should do?

-I don’t know that’s why I’m asking you, after all you are the one who’s expecting.

-Yeah. I’m the pregnant one. – it seemed to be dawning on her slowly, the shock making way for both a profound sense of terror and an unmeasurable feeling of happiness, both tainted with doubts. Tears began to build in her eyes, and you were quick to hold onto her free hand to steady her. -Oh, Y/N, I’m pregnant. We are going to have a baby! How did this happen!?

-I guess I didn’t control my magic. I had missed you too much and there was this fear that I might lose you and… I don’t know. I didn’t think that we could do this, I just wanted to have you close, to love you and never let you go. I don’t even know how I did it, how we did it.

-Well, this is big Y/N, our lives will change forever. I have no clue how we are going to navigate this whole thing. One thing is to visit Sharon’s grandnieces and nephews, and another completely different thing is to have a baby of our own. Are we ready? Do you even want this Y/N?

-How could I not when it’s a piece of you and me that you are carrying Lilia. It will be hard but I’m not leaving you for anything in the world. I will stay by your side through thick and thin, and I will love this baby until the day I die, no matter what. I believe we can do this; we’ve waited more than a hundred years to find each other and build something strong. We can do it.

-We can do it. We are going to have a baby.

The tears she had tried to keep at bay were now flowing freely down her cheeks, a timid smile spreading on her rosy lips before it turned into a bright grin as you gathered her in your arms, that terror that you were both feeling eclipsed by the happiness and joy of this news. Holy shit, you were going to have a baby! Lilia was pregnant, wow, this is certainly not how you had seen the day going at all, and you weren’t sure if your brain was actually comprehending the situation, but it didn’t matter too much, Lilia was your priority right now. She cried on your shoulder, her left hand still holding onto the test, her body suddenly feeling completely different. When she had been younger she had dreamt of having a family, but the gaps and the death of her coven had turned her life dark and bitter, and as she tried to find a place for herself only to run away when people discovered she was a witch, it just began to slip into the back of her mind until it only popped up when she was at her lowest, when she began to wonder if maybe living for so long wasn’t as wise as she had thought. The feeling that her chance had passed was a thorn that she could not pull out of her heart, the pain would have been too great, but after centuries of living like this her heart had grown around it, learning to cope with the missed dreams she would never have. Sitting in her small kitchen, nestle in between your arms she realised that said thorn was gone, vanished into the ether, every single reaction her body was making, every twitch and spasm bringing the fact that she was growing a whole person, after four hundred and fifty years, to the front of her mind as the news sank in.

She was supposed to have kept her walls up, her magic under control so yours wouldn’t be able to mingle with hers, but the road had left her vulnerable and the sight of you wearing her own robe, the perfume that still lingered in it comforting you through the entire ordeal, had made something inside her click, as if there had been one final piece of the puzzle left for her to find, and when her eyes had settled on your form it had been clear that that piece was you, awaiting her return. She had been raw and bare before you, under you, on top of you, and the gentle tendrils of yellow magic had enfolded your sweet sage ones as one, making her feel alive, cared for, loved. That night there had been a sparkle of something, a spell not really spoken, a deep desire that had set the wheels in motion. She pushed herself off your shoulder to face you, her deep chocolate eyes a bit red and puffy, streaks of tears painting her rosy cheeks and yet there was a bright smile on her lips, so precious that if it had been night she would have been able to light the entire town, and all the doubts and fears you had felt in the last few minutes vanished. You wanted this, you hadn’t known until this every moment that the prospect of having a child with Lilia was the most wonderful thing that had happened to you since meeting her.

In a hundred and forty-three years of life children had never crossed your mind, not even once, they were there, so to speak, they did their thing and you did yours, never crossing paths and you had been perfectly fine with that. You had felt far too young to think about it at first, but then wars had happened, depressions, crisis, and your life had just taken extreme turns, far too many for you to even consider forming a family and then of course had been the fact that, first, your magic was a mess and you could not control it one bit, and second, you didn’t have someone you loved enough to settle down with. All that had changed with Lilia and knowing that from the two of you she had been the one to fall pregnant both terrified and thrilled you. You were sure she would be the most beautiful pregnant woman in existence but what you were absolutely certain of was that she would be the best mother in the universe, in every universe. You could almost see it, Lilia sitting in the garden under the warm sun of summer cradling a little thing in her arms, the sweet quiet noises coming from the baby the most wonderful sounds you had ever heard, their skin soft under you finger as you caressed their cheek amazed by their fuzzy curls that resembled Lilia’s when she was younger, the wonders never stopping every time they opened their big eyes to look at you with that unique power Lilia had mastered throughout the years and that they had inherited. You could see that same bright smile Lilia was giving you right now in the kitchen, her face still carrying some of the baby weight she had gained, but it did not matter, she was still the most beautiful woman, the love of your life that had granted you a wish you had never even known you desired.

But until that scene could come true many things had to happen and suddenly reality crashed down over your head. You had no clue what you were supposed to do now, like was she meant to sit on the couch with her feet up until she gave birth? You would have to throw away every single pod of coffee, you had heard it was bad, an alcohol, and cigarettes, did the smoke of candles count? You felt your panic rising, but Lilia was quick to reassure you with a simple touch, the palm of her hand resting on your cheek as she finally let go of the test, letting it fall on the kitchen table. Your knees were beginning to hurt from how you were positioned on the floor, the tiles digging onto the skin and hitting your rotulas, so you pushed yourself onto a chair, still facing her as if by giving her your back would suddenly make you wake up to realise this was all a dream, fearing that she would vanish like smoke in between your fingers and you would find yourself in the still of the night waiting for her to return from the road. But she was solid, real, and she was having your baby, and you could not help the chuckle that escaped your lips, turning into a melodious laugh as you pulled her to her feet and gathered her in your arms, twirling around the room. Lilia had to join you, her arms wrapped around your neck as she let you sweep her off her feet, literally, her own laughter mingling with yours for a minute until she felt you placing her gently on the floor.

-Oh my God, I shouldn’t be picking you up like that, should I? - your hands were suddenly grabbing her upper arms as if she was made out of porcelain and could crack any minute, her own tapping yours as she chuckled. It touched her just how worried you looked, as if something could almost literally make her collapse, but she was perfectly alright, she felt strange but at the same time perfectly fine.

-It’s fine Y/N, I’m fine. I don’t think that this is going to do me much harm.

-Do we have any baby books or pregnancy books?

-No, not really. It’s not a topic we usually read about.

-Then I’ll have to check Google.

-Whatever for? – you let go of her and practically slid over the tiles to grab your phone from the kitchen counter, unlocking it and opening a brand-new tab, typing the single word “Pregnancy” as if instructions would pop up on your screen.

-I have no idea what we are supposed to do! Like, what can you eat, is there anything that you can’t do, is magic safe for you right now?

-Y/N, darling, calm down. Let’s just call Jen, she’ll know exactly what to do.

-Jen? Why do we need Jennifer, she’s a potions witch.

-She’s also a certified midwife. I would feel more comfortable if she were to come and check me instead of us having to fake a birthday and pay two hundred dollars to sit in a waiting room to see a doctor who’s going to complain about my age straight away.

-Okay, okay, if that’s what you want that’s what we’ll do. – you needed to take a couple of deep breaths before you lost your shit, leaving your phone on the kitchen table and moving your hands up and down to calm yourself before sitting back down on your chair. - Divine Mother, and I thought I was going to have a relaxing day doing nothing.

-Tell me about it, I just found out I have a tiny being inside me.

Lilia was always so collected, so calm, or at least most of the time, but underneath that smile and controlled breaths you could see the nervousness that was coursing through her veins as she wriggled her hands in front of her chest. This whole thing was going to be a big change, she knew, and she was no stranger to change but not to this calibre. With quiet steps she rummaged through her purse, on top of the coffee table, pulling out her big black phone before making her way towards her own chair. She unlocked it and tapped the phone icon and Jen’s name but suddenly she found herself unable to follow with her own words, fear overtaking everything else. Jen would be kind, she knew, but what if things went wrong, what if she let it slip and the entire coven found out before she was ready to share this news, what if they had got their hopes up, joy and happiness filling their chests only to be let down, to be told that there was nothing, that the test was wrong. She didn’t feel like she could fight that war, she couldn’t simply sit there and hear her say that there would be no baby, not after realising just how much she wanted this one. Without prior notice she felt tears gathering in her eyes and in an attempt to not cry she lulled her head back, taking a few deep breaths. It took you by surprise this reaction, the way her eyes had quickly shifted from happiness to unbridled fear.

-Hey, hey, what’s wrong? – you took the phone and left it beside yours, taking one of her hands in yours while the other grabbed her chin and gently moved it so she would look at you, a single tear running down her cheek.

-What if we are wrong? What if they are false positives?

-The probability of two being wrong is very low Lilia. But you can take another if you want.

-And if its negative? What if its you the one that’s pregnant and not me?

-Darling, you made me go to store to buy a bag of Doritos, which I’ve only seen you eat like four times in two years, and two of them were at Agatha’s. I’m not pregnant, I don’t feel any different from how I usually feel, I don’t get sick when I have some cinnamon, I don’t have these crazy cravings for cheese either, unlike you. Trust me on this, okay? Everything will be fine, I promise.

-Do you really mean it?

-I do. I know you are scared, but everything will be just fine. How about I call Jen, and you can take another test if it will make you feel better.

Your thumbs wiped her tears as tenderly as you could manage, hating to see her so upset when only a minute before she had been over the moon. You supposed this was brought on also by the roller coaster of hormones she must have going on, but you weren’t going to voice that, you didn’t wish to upset her any further; she didn’t deserve to feel worse than she already did. It was strange the way she nodded, vulnerable before your eyes just like when she had shared all those heartbreaking stories about her past, letting you handle what she couldn’t at the moment. She was carrying the weight of the world on her shoulders, doubts and fears crushing her under it all, but as long as you were there you would lift it off of her as much as you could. You pulled her into a kiss, her lips holding onto the cheesy flavour of the Doritos, but as much as you wished to deepen it you stopped yourself, pecking her forehead before you picked up her phone from the table. Lilia remained on her chair for a few more seconds as she collected herself and as you pressed the call button, she picked up the box and vanished into the bathroom. It rang once, then twice, and as the third one was mid ring Jen’s deep voice answered, greeting Lilia with a warm friendly tone.

-Hi Jen, it’s Y/N.

-Oh, hi. How are you?

-I’m not sure at the moment. Look, I called because Lilia and I have a bit of a situation going on here and I was wondering if you could pop over in like five to ten minutes.

-Is everything alright? Do I need to bring ingredients for an antidote again? – her tone was playful, but there was a slight jab that tainted them. She just couldn’t resist making you feel a little bit bad about your lack of potion skills, could she? Well, you had no time to engage her in a battle of ironies and sarcasms.

-No, but if you have like a… midwife bag it would help.

-You need me as a midwife? What’s going on? What did you two do?

-You can’t tell anyone Jennifer, and I mean it, no one. Lilia is already all over the place as it is, and I don’t want Agatha or Rio mocking her. We took some tests and hers came back positive.

-WHAT?!

-Jen, my ear!

-Are you serious? Like you got Lilia pregnant for real?

-Yes. Could you come over and check her or do whatever you are supposed to do?

-Sure, sure, I’ll be there in five, I just need to get my bag from my apartment.

-Thank you so much. She’s freaking out and she will only let you see her.

-Okay, keep her calm, I’ll be there soon. Bye

-Bye.

Jen cared for Lilia more than she let on, but you could see it whenever they were together, whenever they talked, she would look at her with a protective glaze in her eyes, as if she could keep her away from harms way. It did not mean she was in love with her, no, she cared for Alice that way, with Lilia it was as if they were sisters, looking out for each other, and you didn’t expect anything else after what they had shared in the tunnels and during Lilia’s trial. They had gone for three days thinking that the other was dead only to find each other in front of the psychic store when Jen had gone there to pay her respects and leave a bouquet of lilies, the flowers forgotten on the floor when they saw each other. Jen had only cried one time during the road but seeing Lilia alive and well after the entire ordeal was like seeing her sister after being apart for years, only an old letter in a drawer to remember her by. Jen could be many many things, like arrogant or rude at first, but once you got to know her, she was kind and caring and she showed it by jabbing you every once in a while, a playful banter that sometimes ended up in arguments that would soon turn into deep conversations over a cup of tea. You trusted her with Lilia because you knew she would never harm her, and she would be honest with all of her findings, exactly what you both needed. Lilia was yet to come out of the bathroom you noticed, her phone locked and on the kitchen table as you stood and headed for the powder room, knocking gently on the door.

-Darling, is everything alright?

-Yeah. – her voice was slightly muffled by the wood, but you could have sworn there was a happier tone to her affirmation, though your mind could totally be making things up.

-Does the test say anything?

-Yeah.

-Do you want to tell me?

The handle was pushed down, the door opening slightly for you to go in. It was a small room, an old ceramic sink on the left side with two glasses with your toothbrush and hers, a bathtub with a white shower curtain like four or five feet from the door and a toilet, where Lilia was sitting on, right in front of the sink and mirror. Without a word she lifted the three pregnancy tests that had been left in the box, two of them showing blue deep crosses while the other one, the last digital test, showed the same message, “+3 weeks pregnant”. Lilia could not believe the relief she had felt when they had taken barely a minute to show the results, like a wave that had swept away all the fear and worry. She was most definitely carrying your baby, there was no doubt about it after five tests, a weight lifting of her chest when you caressed her cheeks and smiling, kissed her tenderly. She still wondered how it was that she could not get enough of your lips, of how much your kisses grounded her and helped her sooth her aching heart when the past came to knock her down. It was the only thing she could never live without. Parting from her you did not move from your spot, squatting before her.

-Do you feel better now?

-Yes, very much.

-I talked with Jen and she’ll be here shortly. How far along do you think you might be?

-Seven or eight weeks? If we take the night I came back as the conception date.

-You were very receptive to me that night, I think it would be right to assume it is. How about you sit on the couch, and I’ll make you a cup of tea until she arrives.

-Just warm up the vanilla that’s on the pot, no need to dirty more dishes.

Perhaps you were seeing things that were not quite there, but she seemed to be glowing. Her eyes held a different light to them, her soft curves seemed to speak of a secret she nestled under her heart, so precious that she didn’t think she could love someone so much even before they had laid eyes on them, a little life that you had both created. There were no need for words, not anymore, and you took Lilia’s hands in yours to take her out into the living room, her body following without protest as the evening light began to change into oranges and pinks that bathed the room beautifully, the colours reflecting on Lilia’s peppery curls in a lovely rainbow that reached her eyes, so deep, so rich and happy. Walking backwards you rounded her favourite armchair and pushed her softly until she was sitting with her back on her flowery cushion, your lips making contact with the soft skin of her palm, sprinkled with freckles and spots brought on by time. You did not care that she was over four hundred years old, she could have been a thousand and you would have still loved her for all eternity, every second of every minute of every day without a doubt, without question. She had meant everything to you for two whole years, and now you had something else you could love her even more for. Your fingers slipped from hers as you made your way to the pot, the amber liquid lukewarm to the touch as you let a drop fall on your pinkie. Picking up a clean cup you poured her some and placed it in the microwave to warm up again, taking the time until the microwave beeped to head to the shop to turn the sign from “open” to “closed”, pushing the door slightly closed but not fully shutting it, the cooler breeze that was still coming through it and from the garden keeping the house at a nice temperature.

Night would soon come, and in your dreams, you hoped to see what the future may hold for you both, a little girl with Lilia’s curls or a little boy with her big brown eyes, you didn’t care much, as long as they were healthy, and Lilia had no issues. The microwave beeped as you stared through the glass to the sky above, the streetlamps having just turned on keeping the stars hidden from your eyes, but it did not matter, as soon as you crossed the beady curtain, Lilia’s head turned to look at you, a sweet smile on her lips as she curled on her armchair, her feet under her. Her eyes held all the stars you needed to see. Crossing the room to the kitchen you picked up the cup and placed it on a saucer, and as you turned to head back to her you saw the open bag of Doritos, a smile gracing your lips. Coming around Lilia you handed her the tea, a quiet thank you reaching your ears, but you did not sit down at her feet like you always did when you were watching the telly, no, you took your free hand and placed it on her lower stomach, her eyes travelling down to watch it as it rested over her red and blue gown. A gasp escaped your lips when you felt it, a small spark of magic that was not quite yours nor Lilia’s, your fingers tingling at the feeling, until she placed her own hand over yours, the electricity passing from yours to hers, both raising your heads to look at each other. Lilia’s smile was so deep and bright, so utterly happy that you could not help it, and you crashed your lips over hers letting her feel the joy and glee that was coursing through your veins, the tea forgotten on the armrest as her hand went up to your cheek. When you had woken up you hadn’t imagined that a simple joke could bring such happiness to your life, that your Lilia, your wonderful, beautiful Lilia would be the one to give you a family, though you could not imagine anyone else you do this with.

-I think Y/N, that we are having a baby.

[bubbles-for-all-of-us]

Butterfly I

a/n I'm clawing my way into this fandom since salt and pepper god took over my brain! Be gentle with me since it's my first time writing for this man! Happy reading! 🤍

summery: When Joel thinks that his life is over his little butterfly sends him a new reason to stay alive. The only problem is that he doesn't know how to love but when you are the meaning of love itself how can he not fall.

Part II can be found on my blog

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World had ended twenty years ago for Joel. Even more so, he was sure that he had died alongside Sarah. If he had a chance, he would have gladly been buried by his little girl. He didn't have a reason to be alive. Well, there was Tommy, but at that moment even that didn't seem like enough to keep him going. The moment Joel failed to do his first and most important job—protect the ones he loved—changed him without a chance of going back.

The morals had to die soon as well, and Joel had learned it the hard way. He tried to fight and protect the innocent at first. To stupidly ensure that everyone had been taken care of in the same amounts. Well, that resulted in him getting beaten multiple times. He didn't fight it at first. The physical pain numbed the emotional scars. But then something snapped in him, and he longed for the first blow. Then the second. Third. With a realization that this was how his sorry life was going be for the rest of his pointless existence. To fear less, Joel needed to become someone people feared, and he did just that.

Until, after one of his deals, he ended up running into you. Completely by accident as he tried to get away from the people he just had business with. Joel bumped into you, knocking you to the ground and causing you to hit your head on the pavement. "Shit, fuck", the male kneeled beside you cursing. You just laid there, and for a split second, Joel was convinced that you had died, until you let out a growl as you moved your hand to gently touch your pounding head. He debated whether he should just leave you there or take you back to his place. The first option was less complicated and demanded fewer efforts from him, but when he saw your eyes as you tried to look around, seeking to find who had caused such a collision, that's when he knew he couldn't just walk away like that.

Then a smile crept onto your face, followed by a light chuckle, and something inside Joel twisted again. He hadn't heard the sound of laughter in years. "Dang, for a moment I saw white horses running around", you laughed out loud, covering your eyes with your hands. Even more, concern washed over Joel. Had you hit your head that hard? He couldn't afford to get you medication or even a doctor for that. So he did the next best thing - assisted you in getting up and walking you to his place.

Everything after that was made up of Joel trying to hurt you so you would leave him and go your way. He desperately wanted to push you out of his life because he was afraid to admit that Sarah would have loved you. That she would have been nagging him constantly to bring you around. Imagining how life would have been with you before the outbreak. How would it have felt to come home to you making dinner? Hearing you and Sarah laughing together. Joel knew—he knew without even needing to think about it much—that his daughter would have loved you. He wished she had had the opportunity to experience your motherly love. The effortless, endless love that poured from within you. And finally, have a truly normal family built on love.

After all, Joel was convinced that Sarah had sent you to him herself. As if it was her way of making sure, even from heaven, which Joel barely believed in, that her father lived. Not just used up air and wasted his days away but found something to live for. You angrily bandaged Joel's arm one evening after yet another deal had ended poorly, leaving the man with a nasty cut on his forearm. Well, if he could even call that anger. Joel doubted you had that emotion implanted in your brain. You had pushed up your sleeves, not wanting the ends of them to get damp as you moved back and forth between a bowl of warm water and a cloth to clean the blood off his skin. That was the first time Joel saw the ink on your body. A butterfly, and then another one just above the first one.

Joel thought he imagined it at first. He knew he must have looked like a lunatic to you when he gripped your left hand firmly before pushing the material of your sleeve even further up. Three butterflies. All inching further up and up. Butterflies. Sarah loved them; she was Joel's little butterfly. The butterfly that got crushed by the brutality of this world.

"Joel," you carefully mumbled as his fingers traced the tattoos. A flicker of what was behind the mask flashed in his eyes. You knew that he was a broken man. People talked, and even if half of what they were saying was true, it was a lot to go through. Especially alone. Especially after losing the main purpose of your world. "This… when did you get this?", his words came out harsh, as if you should have felt guilty, "Not long before the outbreak. It just…", you giggled to yourself, "Feels silly now that they symbolize growth, a new beginning, and shit". However, it didn't seem stupid to Joel even if he had yanked the cloth out of your hand, pushing you out of the bathroom. Emotions took control of him. He couldn't love you. Couldn't stand you. But the way you kept knocking at the door, concern in your voice as you pleaded with him to let you in, only proved what he already knew. You two had found someone to hold onto. As scary as it may sound.

When Ellie first met you, she couldn't believe that you two were even here and had somehow mutually agreed on something. It seemed impossible to her. You were the polar opposite in her eyes. From the moment in the hallway when Joel had yanked her against the wall, you had warned the male as you leaned over to the girl. Ellie backed away at first, but it's like you had a magical touch, and not even a blink later, she was clinging to you as if you were the last straw for her survival. Joel had only grumbled more at the sight of that. "Get your hands off her," he said, motioning with the gun for the girl to move away, but all you did was tilt your head to the side, giving him one of those looks. "Joel…" you warned him, before turning your attention to the girl, "I'm Y/N, and that's Joel. He's always grumpy. It comes with age, so don't pay too much attention to him." For a moment, Ellie got scared that the gun might now end up being pointed at you, but the male only tightened his jaw before lowering the weapon. And that didn't change when you crossed the wall. You were there talking with her, making sure that she was okay, ensuring that Ellie's desire to communicate was satisfied, while Joel just frowned.

"Here you are", Joel's voice brought you out of your thoughts, and you smiled at him softly. You had just made your way to the safe house. Days of traveling rubbed off on all of you, so you were more than happy to indulge in some peace. "Was wondering where you crept away", even if Joel was 99 percent sure that he was going to find you here once he didn't find you in the dining room. It only took one look outside to know you'd be on the patio. Curled up on the bench watching the sunset. Any time you came by Bill's and Frank's, you always spent your evenings there.

"Missed the view," you mumble, resting your chin on your knees, "Or maybe the fact that there is nothing to fear here." Joel moved to sit next to you. His own eyes admired the view. He stopped doing stuff like this. Before the outbreak, it was work, work, work to keep a roof over everyone's heads, bring food, and give Sarah the best life that she deserved. After… well, moments like this felt almost forbidden. Not to mention that letting your guard down could get you killed. "Come here," Joel said, nudging your shoulder and wrapping his arm around you. Interactions like that between the two of you were rear but not completely foreign. You two had shared the bed numerous times. Joel had offered you a warm embrace when he saw that the world was close to crushing you. But you had never talked about who you two were or if you were anything more than a bed warmer for one another. "You do know that I would do anything to protect you?", Joel spoke out under his breath, bringing you even closer to him. Your heart skipped a beat as you moved your palm to cup his jaw, leaving a couple of kisses there as you nodded.

"Do you think they were happy when they…", you couldn't bring yourself to finish your sentence as the lump in your throat grew bigger. Joel hummed, "They had each other. That's all Bill and Frank needed". You moved to rest your head on Joel's shoulder. Breathing in both the scent of him and the brisk evening breeze. "Do you ever dream about finding the love they had?", the question was silly, truly, and you knew it. You and your existential questions had pissed Joel off more than once, but for some reason, you never stopped asking them. And for some reason, even through gritted teeth, Joel always answered them. The silence fell between you two for a moment. Joel hesitated to give you an answer. The truth was that the ten years you'd spent by his side had been surreal for him. Even if he constantly pushed you away, no matter the arguments you two would have, he always came back to you. Always. And you never walked away. You were always there waiting for him, even when he quite literally told you to get lost. When you were apart, all Joel could think of, was you. Nothing else mattered. He didn't matter. It was you who swirled around his mind. "Well," the male trailed off, "I've already…" But the door on the patio shot open as Ellie walked out, still looking down at the drawing on the shirt you had found for her.

"Hey, did you know that wild berry soup smells like strawberries?", she beamed till her eyes fell on the two of you. Her face instantly shifted since she had never seen you two this close. Well, she assumed that you might be together, but since she didn't see any grown-up interactions being exchanged, she just pushed that thought to the side. "Shit man, you are together. I was talking shit about him to you," Ellie practically cried out as she raised her hands above her head, making you let out a laugh against Joel's shoulder. "We're not dating, bug", "She talked shite about me?" you and Joel said at the same time. The fact that he had gotten visibly offended by it made you let out another chuckle before you tapped his chest a couple of times.

"Girls have to stick together," you shrugged, and Ellie quickly gave Joel the middle finger. "Okay, enough, you two. Go insane, pick something for dinner, and I'll be right behind you," you said, throwing the blanket you had with at the girl, as ushered Ellie inside. You brushed your hand over Joel's chest as you walked towards the door. Joel's brain screamed at him to catch your hand. To make you stop so he could tell you the words he was meaning to say before Ellie walked in, but he didn't. Only tightening his jaw as his lips thinned into a tight line. He was a fool. A true fool who never truly learned to express himself. If only he could, maybe he would be able to call you his.

Joel's gaze immediately shifted to the window that peaked into the inside of the house once the sound of something falling echoed through the air. You and Ellie were on different sides of the island. The girl had one of those smirks that usually led nowhere good on her face. Then the sound of laughter shot through the space as you took off running to grab hold of whatever Ellie was holding in her hands. The girl squealed as you both ran in circles. "Give me the spaghetti hoops, you little thief!", you yelled, but that only made Ellie laugh more. "I'll tell Joel", you tried to threaten her, but she only let out a huff, "You wouldn't snitch", Ellie narrowed her eyes at you. You quickly hopped onto the island and slid to the other side, taking hold of both of Ellie's hands but losing your balance as you two tumbled to the ground. Joel practically ran inside at the sight of that, the worst scenarios already running wild. He couldn't let you get hurt. Neither of you could get hurt.

Joel rounded the corner, his heart already beating fast. And here you were. Ellie was nearly on top of you as you, as you two stared at each other, both still confused at what had just happened. And then there it was again. The laughter. The whole-hearted laughter drenched Joel's heart dry. Your arms wrapped around Ellie as she giggled away, pressing her cheek against your chest. Joel picked up the can of spaghetti hoops that had rolled off and were long forgotten. "Oh no, daddy is here, and he is mad," Ellie shrieked playfully, not lifting her head away from you. "Don't call me that shit," Joel warned her before slamming the can against the counter. He quickly turned around, running a hand over his face. Your expression clouded as well. Carefully, you helped Ellie stand up. Her eyes were looking at you as if she were silently asking if she had overstepped a boundary, but you just gave her a quick wink before pointing to the pot. In a couple of steps, you reached Joel as your hands ran down his back. His muscles tensed under your touch, but the moment you pressed a kiss in between his shoulder blades, Joel let out a sigh. "How about you take a shower while we heat up the food? Clear your mind and all that?", you continued to draw patterns on his skin. Joel didn't say anything as he stepped away from you and over to the stairs.

"Is he mad with me?", Ellie's voice made you turn to her. Her big eyes watched you as you shook your head. "He… well, Joel struggles with his emotions. He cares a lot, but that ends up overwhelming him, and then this happens," you said softly, Ellie nodded her head as if agreeing with you. You nudged her shoulder gently and asked, "Want to make the whole feast tonight? Get the canned sausages out." The shower was indeed all that Joel needed. The hot water took that extra weight of tension off his shoulders, and the fresh set of clothes made him feel like a new man. He was excellent at ignoring his basic needs, but with you, there was no need to worry about that because you always reminded him about all the little things. Things to made him feel better.

Ellie was delivering joke after joke while you all ate. Her energy was surprisingly high, considering that the last couple of days had been rough. "I'm telling you, he just knows all the jokes", she grumbled when Joel hit the right answer to her fifth joke, defeating the purpose of her performance. Joel's hand had slipped under the table, casually resting on your thigh, and you occasionally gave it a little squeeze as if to ensure him that you were here with him. "Okay, can I try?", you weren't much of a jokester, but everyone knew a joke or two. Ellie nodded her head eagerly. You cleared your throat, "What do you call a fish with a bow tie?" You questioned the two of them, trying not to break into a smile. Ellie shrugged her shoulders. "SoFISHticated," Ellie just gaped at you, but Joel snorted under his breath. Your eyes fall on him in an instant. He shook his head, trying to keep the smile off his face. "You laughed, you fucker," Ellie said, pointing her fork at Joel. "I didn't," Joel argued back, "Yes, you fucking did. Y/N tell him", "Yeah, Joel, I consider that a laugh", you moved your hand to gently rub the back of his neck, and his eyes met yours. He got lost in the depths of them just a bit before another laugh escaped his lips. You bit your lip as you watched him, realizing how much you had missed the sound of that. Since the only time you heard it was when the two of you got shitface drunk, and he fell while trying to take his pants off.

"You can fucking laugh. Dude, you're normal," Ellie beamed, watching Joel chuckle. "Eat your noodles before I take them away," Joel warned, reaching over and scooping some of the spaghetti hoops from Ellie's plate, making her protest straight away. She leaned across the table to do the same, but Joel brushes her spoon away easily. "No playing with the food, you two," you gently warn them, even though you enjoyed watching them interact, especially Joel letting her in. They instantly settle back down, even if they continue to watch one another from the corner of their eyes.

Yeah, this was the closest to home that Joel had gotten in over twenty years. Now all he needed to do was own up to his feelings. Admit to himself that the scary feelings won't disappear. But he was going to be equally scared with you or without your officially being a part of his life. And he had promised Sarah, his little butterfly, that he wasn't going to let this go to waste. And that the three butterflies on your hand were possibly you, Joel, and Ellie; that you were all fated to meet. Maybe you two were sent here to change his life. Teach Joel how to fly again.

[maxislvt]

Could I request a dark fic where Vampire!Wanda and Mortal!Reader fall in love, and after getting married, Wanda offers to turn Reader into a vampire but Reader says no. However, years go by and Reader is on their deathbed, about to succumb to old age, when Wanda decides she must turn Reader whether they like it or not.

Thank you!

p.s. i am a simp for Vampire Mommy Wanda

warnings: angst, mention of terminal illness, arguin

I didn't realize the old age part so this is just kinda sadder than need be

Death was the price that came with loving a mortal.

As a vampire, Wanda was cursed to live forever. An eternity filled with nothing but quick flings that would amount to nothing in the end. It was a rather sad love life, but Wanda had convinced herself she was okay with it. With a legacy to keep secret and company to run — her schedule was pretty tight. A relationship would just add more stress. That's what she told herself. Then you came along and ruined a near two hundred year streak of being single.

You were everything Wanda wanted in a lover. Someone gentle and kind to cut down the bitterness she'd collected over the years. It didn't take long for her to realize how much she needed you. Wanda clung to you for dear life. The mere thought of you leaving her sent her into a spiral. You were always quick to put out her fears. You never even considered leaving Wanda. She gave you her everything — you had no reason to.

Wanda wasn't entirely sure what she'd done to make you change your mind.

"You said—" Wanda took a deep breath. She'd never been so upset with you before. "You said you'd never leave me! We were supposed to be together forever." You always had a way of making Wanda feel things that had laid dormant for years. She couldn't remember the last time she'd been this upset. Her cheeks burned with hot tears. After everything she had done for you, you were still so comfortable just leaving her? It wasn't fair. "I won't be able to love anyone else."

You flinch at the harsh reality in Wanda's words. "I'm not leaving you. It's just my time to go." You had come to terms with the fact you'd die months ago. The doctors handed you a diagnosis and said you only had so long. Fighting it was futile. You didn't expect Wanda to be okay with it. Finding love after decades of loneliness only to have it ripped away was a pain beyond your imagination. But you only had about two weeks left and you didn't want that dread hanging over your head the entire time. "Just love me as much as you can, while you still can." You spoke as softly as you could. "Come here, I want to cuddle."

Wanda took a deep breath before laying down next to you. Fear still ran hot through her vines. It was making her irrational. "I could do it forever if you'd just let me-"

"I don't want to be turned into a vampire. You have to respect that. "

"I don't want to be alone forever, can't you respect that?"

You sighed and rubbed your temples. "Wanda, you're being selfish. Think about all the people I care about and would have to watch die. I can't do that." Your arms wrapped around Wanda's body and pulled her close. "I don't really want to talk about this anymore. Let's just call it a night. Please?"

Wanda pulled away and looked down at you. She could see life fading from your body. You were paler and the bags under your eyes were getting darker. Even the light in your eyes was starting to fade. It was like looking at a doomsday clock meant specifically just for you. Wanda would do anything to keep that clock from sticking 12. She wasn't going to let you die. Your approval was going to have to take the backseat for her to do that. "Okay, I won't bring it up anymore." She placed a gentle kiss on your lips before laying back down and holding you close.

She wasn't foolish enough to do it while you were awake. Once Wanda was sure you'd fallen asleep, her fangs buried themselves into your lower back. Sickness had tainted the taste of your blood forever ago. The sugary sweetness had now faded into something bitter and medicinal. She sucked until she had taken just enough to turn you. Her tongue licked at the wound so it'd be healed by the morning.

You'd hate her for it. Maybe you'd argue again or run off screaming with the hopes of finding a cure. You would come back eventually. Eventually, Wanda would be the only one you'd have left to run to. It appeared you had figured that out faster than Wanda expected.

Wanda expected nothing less from someone as smart as you.

"Wanda," You whispered from the bathroom. Despite calling for her, you didn't even spare your partner a glance. Your eyes focused on the cut quickly healing on your finger. You wipe away the blood slowly. Focusing on the task to avoid blowing up at the woman standing in the door frame. A heavy sigh fell from your lips as you turned to face her. "Why'd you do it?" The look in your eyes was cold and almost uncaring.

That wasn't the first time you looked at her like that. It certainly wouldn't be the last now that you two had an eternity together.

"I did what I thought was best." Wanda stretched out her arms. "I know it's going to be scary at first, but I'm going to be here with you every step of the-"

You quickly pushed past Wanda. You grabbed a bag and began stuffing your clothes in it. "I can't be around you right now." Every word Wanda said fell on deaf ears as you continued packing. There was nothing she could say that would make you feel better. Just as you tried to zip up the bag, Wanda tried to snatch away. "Wanda, I don't want to hear it!" You shouted before snatching the bag away from her. It felt good to be strong enough to stand up for yourself. You turned and walked away.

"Stop walking away from me and listen!"

Your body stopped dead in its tracks. How could you have forgotten? Turned vampires were nothing to someone from a bloodline as powerful as Wanda's. That was just another way you'd be inferior to her.

Wanda turned your body so you were forced to look at her. "I did what I had to do to keep us happy. I will not sit here and let you make me a villain for putting you first!" She could see the anger burning bright behind your eyes "I gave you my whole heart and I'm not going to let you run off and break it!" It didn't feel right yelling at you. It wasn't your fault you were born a mortal or her a vampire. But something had to be done in order for you two to stay together. Wanda needed reassurance but all you were showing her was animosity. "Say something damn it! I need you!"

For a moment you just stared at Wanda. Fighting the urge to obey her wasn't easy, but you weren't going to let her win.

"I hate you more than anything right now."

[stevieharringtonwifeguy]

5 times Steph and Eddie refer to each other as husband and wife +1 time they make it official

Part 1 (also on ao3 here)

...............................................

Stevie probably should have shut this all down weeks ago.

The kids have been calling her mom since before she even came out to them, so she’s admittedly kind of given up on stopping that one. The problem is now they’ve gotten Eddie in on it.

Well, Eddie’s not calling her mom. If he started doing that, she thinks she’d no longer be fit for public. She’d have to crawl in a hole and never come out, like how old cats sometimes wander away to die alone, except she’d be dying not of old age but of the mortification of an unrequited crush. So luckily, that isn’t happening.

But now, as she arrives at the Wheelers’ house to pick up the kids after a D&D session, she’s forced to confront the fact that Eddie calling her mom is not apparently the worst thing that could come of this whole thing.

It starts when she’s getting on Dustin’s case about leaving his shit all over the basement. These kids treat every space they’re in like they own it, but Stevie is very aware how hard Karen had to work to convince Ted to let Eddie host Hellfire here, and she’s not about to let that hard work go to waste just because the kids left the basement a bomb site.

Dustin rolls his eyes at her nagging, lets out a long-suffering sigh and a “Yes, mom,” and Stevie has barely finished giving him an obligatory sisterly noogie before things get out of hand.

“If Stevie’s our mom, does that make Eddie our dad?” Lucas says, casually, completely unaware that putting ‘Eddie’ and ‘dad’ in the same sentence has just completely broken Stevie’s brain.

Eddie, though. Eddie smells blood in the water. He’s got that look on his face, that one Stevie usually loves, the one he always gets right before he commits to a bit with overdramatic vigour.

Sure enough, Eddie immediately prostrates himself over the couch, hand to his forehead, looking the picture of a lovelorn idiot. “Stevie,” he says, sounding genuinely heartbroken. “It’s just been so hard, raising our kids alone since the divorce.”

Stevie scoffs. “You’re raising our kids? You get them for a few hours once a week, pretty sure I’m the one shuttling their ungrateful asses to and from school every day.”

“Ungrateful?” Dustin splutters, as if he doesn’t show up at Stevie’s door at entirely random times of the day and demands she drive him to whatever nerd shit he’s got going on next.

“You’re right, that’s unfair,” she says, and then before anyone can get a word in: “You’re lovely, Will, always so polite. But the rest of you little shits. Ungrateful.”

Will smiles serenely as his friends immediately erupt into complaints, and Eddie ignores them all to prostrate himself at Stevie’s feet.

“I know I haven’t been around often, but baby, won’t you give me another chance?”

Stevie thinks she’d probably give Eddie anything he asked for, as long as he’s asking on his knees before her. It’s definitely a good look for him, and it’s only the clamour of the kids around her that keeps her face from going bright red.

She’s gotta play it cool here. Roll with the ridiculousness, always the best way to deal with Eddie, to keep him grinning at her like that, his whole face lit up like sunshine.

“Well…” she says, pretending to think it over, like she wouldn’t marry him in a heartbeat if he asked for real. That would be a bit much, given they’ve only known each other for a year and some change. “I suppose… although I’m not seeing a ring.”

Eddie grins like she’s fallen into some trap, and immediately slides the ring off his right hand- her favourite one with the big round stone in the middle that she likes to play with sometimes when they’re smoking together- and holds it up to her, a challenge in his eyes. Well. Only way out is through. She holds out her hand for him, the left one, and he slides the ring gently onto her ring finger. It fits perfectly.

“There you go,” he says, softly. His eyes are so warm, like pools of melted chocolate, and Stevie feels like she might drown in them. Her whole world has narrowed to the man on his knees before her- she’s distantly aware of the kids around them losing their minds (she’s pretty sure Mike is gagging, but that’s so far from her mind right now it might as well be happening on a different planet).

Eddie smiles up at her. “There’s my wife.”

“Your wife,” she whispers, unbearably fond. Stevie wants to hear him call her that for the rest of her life.

This really isn’t helping with her crush.

Sound filters in slowly, the world around them coming back in with the hushed whispers of the kids. Honestly, they’re quieter than she thought they’d be after this display, although the way Mike is rubbing his ribs suggests that this peace was hard won. They round the kids up pretty easily after that, with surprisingly little complaining as Stevie harangues them into cleaning up their shit. Eddie helps, occasionally glancing up at Stevie and looking quickly away with a fierce blush.

Later, after Stevie’s dropped off most of the kids and it’s only her and Will left in the car, riding home in silence as Stevie fiddles with the ring still on her finger, she tries not to read too much into everything that just happened. Will isn’t helping.

“So,” he says, in that sly, quiet way of his. “How long have you and Eddie been together?”

Stevie splutters. “That’s not- we’re not together. That was just- you know how Eddie is, he’s… theatrical.”

Will hums noncommittally. “He is. I don’t think that’s what that was, though. You like him, right?”

If this was any of the kids other than Will, Stevie thinks she’d deny it. God knows Dustin couldn’t be trusted with that information. But Will, quiet, sensitive Will- she thinks he’d get it.

“Yeah,” she says softly. “I really do. But it’s not- he doesn’t like me like that.”

She pulls up to the Byers’ house and parks the car in the drive. They both sit for a moment, basking in the silence. After a moment, Will suddenly leans over the gearshift, wrapping Stevie up in a weird, slightly uncomfortable hug. It feels nice.

“For what it’s worth,” he says as he pulls back and opens his door, “he looked really happy when he called you his wife. Even Eddie’s not that good of an actor.”

With that, he gently closes the car door behind him. Stevie watches as he runs up to his front door, and waves when Joyce comes out to greet him.

She drives most of the way home on autopilot, fiddling with the ring on her finger and thinking of Eddie’s face as he’d placed it on her hand. His gentle smile, his warm, chocolate eyes, full of something like love. His fingers had been rough with callouses as they’d brushed against hers, but still soft in a way that had nothing to do with his skin.

Maybe, she thinks, as she enters her quiet mausoleum of a house. Just maybe.

She goes to sleep that night, alone in her bed, with her last sight before unconsciousness being that of a gleaming ring on her left finger, and dreams of a husband who loves her.

[multi-fandom-simp]

Forever and always.. or maybe never. Part 2

[Part 1] [Alternate Ending]

Pairings: Aemond Targaryen x reader

Hanahakis Disease!AU

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the House of The Dragon or Fire & Blood characters. I do not claim any of them as my own. This work is purely fictional.

Summary: You're dead, and now Aemond must suffer the consequences of loving someone he can never have. How long until he can no longer handle it?

❗️TW❗️: Harsh language, mentions of blood and throwing up, character death, mentions of sexual situations, mentions of infidelity, slight violence, arguments, mentions of childbirth

(A/N: Part 2 is here! It took me a minute to put this together because I had so many ideas on how to do it, so I hope it is to your liking. I would love to hear thoughts, opinions, and ideas on it as well, I'm always open for criticism/suggestion! My asks/inbox are always open as well, I love nothing more than to talk about my fics, or just to you guys in general! I'm always up for having more mutuals on here! Also, if you are interested in the alternate ending for part 1, I posted a poll on what you would like to read in it, so feel free to vote. Anyways, enjoy!)

Word Count: 2,329

Taglist:  @libdarkheart @bibli0thecary @earthangels-things @iiamthehybrid @bellameshipper @introverbatim (I believe that is everyone who asked to be tagged?? I apologize if I missed anyone)

It was hours before anyone was allowed to take your body. Aemond had sat there, clutching you as you turned cold and stiff, staring off into the distance as the young boy inside his head wailed endlessly. It had been Helaena who convinced Aemond to let you go, and Daeron who supported him while he carried you to the maesters. Alicent was the first to cry out as you were pronounced officially dead, a piece of the queen's heart seeping through her lips as she wept against your hand. The small smart-mouthed girl that arrived nearly a decade and a half ago now lay unspeaking before her very eyes. 

“Tell me you were there” Alicent croaked out. 

“ Mother?” Daeron was the only one to question the queen. Helaena knew the question was not for her and Aemond still stood unmoving. 

“ Tell me you were by her side, Aemond! That she did not die alone!” Alicent stared directly at Aemond now, even if he did not look back. 

“ You think so low of me, that I would let her die unheld?” Aemond whispered.

“ I did not think you would cause her such heartbreak and yet here we are!” Alicent cried out. The fire in her eyes might even make you believe she was a Targaryen in more than just marriage. 

“ I did not know” Aemond argued softly. 

“ Then you will not know the time of her rest as well” All air sucked itself from the room and Aemond’s cardinal-rimmed eyes shot to his mother. 

“ You can not keep me from it” Where an authoritative edge was expected, vulnerability came instead. 

“ I am your mother and the queen dowager, I will do as I please” Alicent spoke harshly, “ I will take Aemys to the ceremony. I expect you to get rid of that bastard wet nurse in the meantime.” 

“ Mother-”

“ I will hear no more, Aemond! If I see you there, you will be thrown in a cell until it’s over” Alicent warned one last time while brushing hair from your face. She bent down to place a motherly kiss on your crown before turning away swiftly. Shortly after her departure, Daeron said his peace as well, followed by Helaena. Finally, Aemond stood alone with you once more. It didn’t take long for his legs to weaken and buckle, taking him down to his knees. The memory of the last time he had been on his knees for you tore a sob from his throat. 

“What are you doing?” You giggled in astonishment as Aemond removed his tunic and knelt at your feet. His hands dipped in the warm lilac water that your swollen feet soaked in. 

“ I’m going to massage the knots from your feet” Aemond explained, watching as your face contorted in bliss when his fingers dug into the right spot. 

“ That is what the maids are for, my love.” You proclaimed before laughing again, ”Most husbands would scoff at the thought of massaging their lady wife.”

“ I am not most husbands, am I?” Aemond countered, smirking up at you. He took one of his hands from the water to caress your swollen stomach. Though he had soaked your night shift with water, you could care less.

“ I suppose not” You sighed contently, “Avy jorrāelan.” I love you.

“ Avy jorrāelan, Ñuha prūmia. Besides, it is the least I can do when I am the reason why you ache in the first place” Aemond continued to soothe the bump, hoping to feel movement. Kicks were his favorite, they usually occurred whenever you laughed. As if on cue, a flutter of movement blossomed underneath his touch as you chuckled at his statement. 

“ If I recall correctly, I was a part of that same reason” You took a towel from beside you as spoke and let it flutter to the floor. Carefully, and with assistance, you removed your feet from the water onto the dry cotton. 

“ Mhm, that is true, you even had me on my back at one point” Aemond snorted.

“ As I remember, you seemed to enjoy it quite a bit” You teased. 

“ Did I? Perhaps you’ll have to remind me” Aemond surged at you before you could even comprehend what was happening. His lips moved deeply against yours as he shifted you to lay back. 

“ Aem!” You gasped in delight, holding onto his shoulders.

“ Yes, Ñuha prūmia?” He cooed mischievously, gleaming down at you like the Cheshire cat.

“ This is nowhere near the position we were talking of, ñuha zaldrīzes!” Dragon. Your dragon, always. Aemond nipped at your neck upon hearing the endearment that always caused his heart to stutter. 

“ Mhm, ‘tis not, but I quite like this position” He murmured hotly against your neck. 

“ You won’t like it when it’s the position I give birth in” You whispered. It’s not that you were scared of your first child’s birth or of death itself, you just worried about never meeting your child if you did perish. 

“ Stop that” Aemond scolded. 

“ Stop what, I’m-”

“ Overthinking. I can feel it” He rose slightly to press his forehead to yours, "Both of you will make it out just fine, though I imagine the babe might still scream well afterward” 

Aemond was right, Aemys did cry well into the night after his birth until you were awake and well to hold him that is. It’s ironic, Aemond thinks, how similar that was to now. You were unconscious after a taxing birth, now you lay unconscious on a pyre. Aemys screamed for you then, and he screams for you now, despite Aemond being there both times. 

“ Muña! Muñaaaaa!” Aemond silently braided a piece of the thrashing toddler's hair as he kicked and screamed. Even at three years of age, he was clever enough to know something was wrong. 

“ Muñaaa-”

“ Aemys, please..” Aemond sighed tiredly, turning the child to face him. 

“ Jaelagon. Muña.” Want. Mother. By the seven Aemond wanted you too, but he couldn’t have you. The realization caused a tightness in his chest, a breathless one, but he refused to cough. 

“ I know, byka zaldrīzes, I’m sorry.” Little Dragon. Aemys truly was still little and it broke Aemond’s heart that you would never get to see him grow big and strong. He brought the distressed toddler to his chest and held him tight, tears soaking onto the small amethyst tunic he had been wrangled into. 

“ Aemond” Alicent called out from the doorway, poised in an onyx dress with a belt of deep purple jewels to match her grandson and a hand full of lilacs. Your faithful hyena, Lark appeared as well, striding into the room slowly. 

“ Be good for your grandmother” Aemond spoke quietly but firmly, before standing to full height. He watched as Aemys toddled over to Alicent, giggling as Lark lapped the tears off his cherubic cheeks. 

“ Muña?” Aemys whispered, your eyes shining up at Alicent through his.

“Mama?” the young girl croaked, peering up at a young Alicent Hightower.

“ Your mother isn’t here-” Her voice faltered at the heartbreak in your innocent eyes, “but surely we can see her later, alright? Now, what else would you like, little one?” 

“Flowers?” Alicent chuckled, before taking your small hand in hers. 

“ I suppose I can show you the lilacs..they’re my favorite” The queen whispered down to you, smiling when your face lit up. You may not have been hers, and despite Viserys being the one to invite you, it was the queen who took you under her wing. 

“Mother.” Alicent’s head snapped up to look at Aemond, breaking from her memories. She blinked rapidly to dispel the water weight from her eyes. 

“ Your mother isn’t here, but we’ll see her…someday” Alicent reassured, taking Aemys little hand in her own. Aemond watched as they went before leaving the room himself. He trudged up to a small room at the top of the tallest viewpoint in the castle. Dreamfyre was circling the skies, waiting for Helaena to say Dracarys. 

“ Aemond!” The sound of his name on your tongue lapped at his ear and your footsteps echoed past him. Dreamfyre now flew towards the grassy knoll. 

“You’re handsome to me” The ghost of your fingers prickled goosebumps near his scar. Dreamfyre landed upon the ground. 

“Avy jorrāelan”

 “Avy jorrāelan.” Your proclamation of love faded away with a hot wind as Aemond’s rang through the air. Dreamfyre hurled fire as Aemond hurled petals. 

Whereas your suffering lasted two months, Aemond’s lasted a year. He never tried to conceal, nor cure it. Aemond once said he would die without you and he meant it. Over the course of his downfall, several had tried to convince him to remarry.

“She’s gone, Aemond-”

“ Do not speak my name. I am a prince, refer to me as such.” Aemond snapped coldly at Alys, who stood in front of him and his family in the hall. Unfortunately with a slightly swollen belly accompanying her. The very sight of it made Alicent and even Helaena nauseous. You had only been gone a few months.

“ Apologies, my prince-” 

“ I did not say your prince, I am nothing of yours.” Aemond corrected once more. 

“ You were once” Alys spoke, gazing wickedly at the man before her. 

“ You tricked me, bewitched me” Aemond sneered.

“ I merely used your lady wife’s blood to make you think I was her. You, Aemond Targaryen are the one who chose to believe it. You began to love m-” 

“ I loved her, not you! It will always be her-” Aemond turned swiftly as he felt the familiar dryness creep up his throat and out onto his hand, bringing rivers of scarlet in its wake. 

“ I was going to offer myself up to you for marriage, but it seems that your wife still calls to you even from the ground.” Alys tuts, “Such a pity that I couldn’t have either of you in the end.” 

Pity. It was a thing that Aemond found himself receiving often. Lords would offer their pity on losing such a gorgeous young wife. Ladies of the court pitied him for losing the only woman who could ever love a monster like him. Even Aegon pitied him, but not for the right reasons. 

“It’s a pity that you lost your wife brother, because now I have to find you another one through alliance. Which mother loathes me for because she believes it’s too soon” Aegon grumbled the last part into his chalice as to avoid his mother's glare. 

“ I will not take another wife” Aemond didn’t bother to eat nor look at anyone, he was only sitting at the table for duty’s sake anyway. In his head, he was in a whole other world where you were alive and happy. 

“ You will remarry, to a Baratheon girl. You will remarry, forget about your old wife, which will get rid of those damned petals you leave everywhere, and then sire more children” Aegon chuckled darkly. 

“ No.” Aemond refuted. 

“ Yes-”

“No! I will not take another wife as long as I lo-” Aemond wasn’t able to say the word much these days without it being an instant reaction. The blonde looked down at his hands and saw not only flowers but thorns. He was nearing his end. 

Aemond’s end wouldn’t come for many more months. Leaving him time to try and end his life quicker. Many morrows would pass and for each one Aemond sat on his knees in front of Vhagar, but nothing ever came of it. Either the dragon refused to kill another rider, or she agreed with Alicent on the fact that Aemond deserved to suffer as you did. Aemond also lived to see Aemys reach another birthday. He spent as much time with the boy as he could in between his duties. It was the only time he could ever get a glimpse of you outside of his mind. The four-year-old’s eyes had become windows to your soul. Not only did Aemys have your eyes, but he had begun to display your mannerisms as well. Mimicking the way you used to carry yourself, the way you talked, and ate as well. The only thing he held of Aemond was hair and emotional range. Though the latter did not develop until after your death. 

“ Aemys, father must go now.” Aemond stood in full armor at the child’s bedchamber door. 

“ Okay.” Aemys spoke with a soft smile before figuring out how to say his next words, “Tell Muña I say hi”

Aemond’s expression fell before it was quickly replaced. He memorized the look of his son once more before taking off down the hall towards Vhagar. Aemys’s words repeated through his head as he flew toward God's Eye. Blood trailed from the corner of his lips and nose, but he ignored and braved on. He would die a dragon rider's death, a brave death, so that he may meet you again in the afterlife. The universe, however, like before, had crueler plans. Air began to solidify into silk beneath the tissue of Aemond’s lungs. His bronchioles turned to thorns, and trachea to roots, all while his body remained the soil. 

“ I-I lov-” For the first time since your death, Aemond sobbed. He needed to say it, needed to say he loved you before he died. The sky, the clouds, the stars, the universe, all of it needed to know how he truly loved you. Aemond could not see caraxes flying towards him with a rider confused on why his nephew was kneeled over before the battle had even begun. Daemon would not attack an injured rider, it would bring him no pride or glory. Instead, he watched as Aemond slid sideways from Vhagar and plummeted towards the river. 

“ Avy jorrāelan” “ Avy jorrāelan” This time it was your proclamation of love that engulfed Aemond’s just as the river of sea and blood consumed him. Aemond Targaryen could not feel the crisp coldness of the water, only the soft warmth of your hands pulling him in.

[wangxianficfinder]

Fic Finder

Jan 19th

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1. Hello, I have lost a fic! It was an arranged-marriage au where WWX marries into the Lan sect. During the wedding all the Lans refuse to look towards WWX which hurts him deeply. Later on LWJ explains it is Lan tradition for no one to look upon the bride until the husband has removed her veil. This was just one of many cultural differences between the Lan and Jiang that the fic explored. Overall I think the fic was kind of somber and angsty? Probably had a happy ending though. Any ideas?

FOUND? Concord by Deastar (T, 41k, WangXian, Arranged Marriage, Gūsū Lán Sect Rules, Depression, Canon Divergence, Angst with a Happy Ending)

FOUND? In Love and War by Cataclysmic_Calamity (E, 68k, wangxian, A/B/O, Canon Divergence, Alpha LWJ, Omega WWX, Arranged Marriage, Kind of a slow burn, enemies to lovers ish, rampant sexual tension, WWX is a Menace to society and LWJ is doing his best, Miscommunication, past emotional abuse, Dubious Consent, Consensual Non-Consent, Semi-Public Sex, Anal Fingering, Dom/sub, Anal Sex)

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2. Hello, I need help finding a fic. I'm pretty sure I found this fic through your blog.

It's from Lan Wangji's perspective and takes place during the early sunshot campaign before Wei Wuxian's return. Wen outposts are attacked by some unknown entity and Lan Wangji goes to investigate. The culprit is a human shaped being covered in resentful energy. After a few confrontations Lan Wangji discovers that the being is an unconscious Wei Wuxian and finds a way to free him from the resentful energy. @bluekittenfire

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3. (First part added to an itmf) I cannot remember what it is called but there was one fic where WWX loses his foot/leg and the Wen build him a wooden prosthetic that I really enjoyed and am looking for more fics like this. Where characters are dealt a difficult hand but they work through it and yeah, any recs would be much appreciated thank you!

FOUND? we’re starting at the end by Miss_Enthusiasimal (M, 92k, WangXian, JC & WWX, Time Travel, Canon Divergence, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Golden Core Reveal, Burial Mounds, Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Starvation, emaciation, Cannibalism, Self-Harm, Amputation, Suicidal Thoughts, Sunshot Campaign, let JZX and WWX be friends club)

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4. Hi! I’m sorry to bother you, but maybe you can help me? I’m looking for a fic where Wei Wuxian is fighting at what I remember to be Qiongqi Path. I think Jiang Cheng makes a smart remark (something like “Are you just gonna play your flute or you going to help us?!”) and Wei Wuxian stops playing his dizi long enough to give JC the finger… only for them to realise what it means that he’s stopped playing and a flute can still be heard. Not long after LWJ pulls Su She out of the foliage with the other flute.

Vaguely I remember it being a fix it fic where less people die than in canon.

If you can help with this I would appreciate it since it’s haunted me for days now! And even if not I hope you have a pleasant day. ^^ @jestingknights

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5. hi!! i’m been looking for a fic for days. i read it forever ago but it’s during the cloud recess study arc and in it lan xichen realizes how awful the jiangs are treating wwx and tries to subtly convince him to leave tywng and stay in gusu bc he knows how much lwj likes him and he sees how talented wwx is and knows he would be a good asset for any sect to have. a specific scene i remember is that lxc would pretend to accidentally bump into wwx to talk to him. and they would go on walks and lwj saw it and got jealous. i think lxc was lowkey manipulative but in a way where he was doing it to make wwx care enough about himself to leave the jiangs. it was not jiang clan friendly at all. i kno this is so vague sorry about that. but it’s driving me crazy how i can’t find it when i know ive read it more then once. thanks for any help u can give

FOUND? If 5 isn't 🔒💖 Hoards and treasures by apathyinreverie (T, 21k, WangXian, Siblings, Family, not particularly Jiang friendly, YZY Bashing, slightly darker Gusu Lans, LXC being the best brother, Some manipulation, But with the best of intentions, and not between wangxian, Dragon LWJ, Fox WWX, Smitten LWJ, Fluff, perfect happiness, adorable WWX, Romance, Some worldbuilding, courting), it's very similar so here's hoping!

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6. Hello! I’m looking for a modern AU where WWX lives in and runs a theater, I believe LWJ is hosting his orchestra there for practice and for an event??? And it’s important that it’s successful to keep the theater open. I believe at some point, someone throws a rock or a brick through the front doors, and I believe the jiangs show up in the end and WWX confronts that. Im having such a hard time finding it or remembering more about it, and I’ve been looking for it for so long 🥲 @takemitchyleaps

FOUND? Talisman by Witch_Nova221 (M, 192k, WangXian, Modern AU, Eventual Romance, Theatre, Rock Band, Childhood Friends, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Spousal Abuse, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Fluff, Stalking, Minor Character Death, Friends to Lovers, Mutual Pining)

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7. Hi! I hope doing this right, can tou help me find a fic ? I remember that the sects start making alliances because they notice how the Wens are acting. The Jiangs and the Lans are going to ally through marriage, the choice is up to LXC, but because he is jealous of LZ, thinking he never had it difficult, when WY is offered to the Lans, LXC decides to marry him to make LZ suffer, knowing LZ and WY like each other. LXC is the one whose core is melted and LSZ is LXC and WY's biological son. @old-rose-peonies

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8. There's a fic I vaguely remember reading, and I don't know what it's called. There's a scene where Lan Zhan is trying to help Wei Ying eat again (residual starvation stuff), and there's an NSFW scene with honey where Lan Zhan is trying to help Wei Ying associate eating with Good Things. That's the extent of my memory. If you could please help me find it, I'd greatly appreciate it! Thank you! @amynchan

Oh oh! I know exactly which fic this is because it was written based on a post of mine! It's actually WWX helping LWJ and was written by the wonderful InTheGreySpaces (thank you again for writing this beautiful fic~) 😊 Though I could be wrong so please let me know if this isn't it 😅 - Mod C

FOUND! 🧡 Sustenance of the Soul OR Five Times Lan Wangji Refused to Eat and One Time Wei Wuxian Convinced Him To by InTheGreySpaces (E, 9k, WangXian, Grief/Mourning, Angst, Pining, Eating Disorders, LWJ Has an Eating Disorder, and WWX is going to help him get past it, Inedia, Inedia used in the wrong way, LWJ's 33 Lashes Punishment, referenced as the cause of his eating problems, Submissive LWJ, Sort of?)

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9. Hello! I'm looking for a specific fic that I'm afraid might've been deleted. It's a modern au set in the 90s in California (possibly). The Spotify playlist "LWJ DJs your life 1999" goes with it. What I remember is that LWJ is both a goth club DJ and a cello player, WWX drives a terrible car, and the gang is looking to buy the perfect huge house to collectively live in. It might've been part of a series, there's a Halloween party bit where LWJ dresses up at a classic style gothic vampire and curates an extensive party playlist. Thanks for the help! @aceaviatrix

FOUND? The Quiet Room by trickybonmot (M, 39k, WangXian, Modern AU, 1990s, Goth LWJ, Cellist LWJ, College Student WWX, House Hunting, Dating, Clubbing, San Francisco, Implied/Referenced Past Child Abuse, Mental Health Issues, Academic Disaster Aftermath, Getting Together, Repressed Teen Crushes to Strangers to Lovers, Homelessness, in the form of couch surfing, background NieLan)

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10. For the next fic finder: I'm looking for a longer fic where the wens find shelter at the nie sect. It was part of a way bigger plot and some wangxian shenanigans, but wen qing and nie mingjue end up sleeping together, mainly because wen qing is cold and is like "might as well". I do remember that nie mingjue was trans, also. Anyone have any idea what fic that was?

FOUND? 💖 Uninvited by WithBroomBefore (M, 13k, wangxian, canon divergence, fix-it, hurt/comfort, sect leader jyl, sick fic, happy ending) specifically chapter 3

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11. Hi! I need help in looking for a fic where Nie Huaisang was the one who sacrificed his body and soul to summon Wei Wuxian back to life. Thank you @etutb

FOUND? Crowded by nirejseki (G, 1k, NHS & WWX, WangXian, WangXianSang, Canon Divergence, Different Body Offering Ritual, Atypical Relationship Dynamics, sentient sabers) this is a nhs sacrifice summon (gone sideways) fic

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12. Hello. I am looking for a fic where there was a finger trap? You know, the “thing that traps the victim's fingers (often the index fingers) in both ends of a small cylinder”? Anyway i cant remember if it was a tweetfic or a fic on ao3 but wangxian had their fingers in this 🥲🙏

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13. Hi, I don't normally lose fics but I lost this one: Post-Canon, Jiang Cheng basically goes round all the clans and tells them what was wrong with their defences during Sunshot and what they could do better. He also has some unkind words to say about Lotus Pier's organisation. It sounds like he's making enemies but he's really not. Any ideas, please? @solo----

FOUND? 🔒 The Cold Wind of Harsh Truth (or How We Nearly Lost the Sunshot Campaign): A Treatise by Icarus (T, 13k, wangxian, Post-Canon, Humor, Angst, JC digs and keeps digging, Zidian lore, Fun with talismans, JC-centric, Competence Kink, Strategy & Tactics, Cultivation Sect Politics, Arranged Marriage, Trauma, Logic, POV JC)

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14. Hi, I am looking for a fic set post-canon (I think). I remember Wei Wuxian maybe living in the jingshi, possibly teaching classes, but definitely going into Caiyi with Lan Wangji and during a festival Wangji wins a game and the prize is this ugly turtle statue that Wei Wuxian adores. They go on to prank Lan Qiren with the turtle statue. I loved this scene but I can’t remember what fic it came from, please help!

FOUND! I think 14for the fic finder is from the actual book. It sounds like the last extra chapter. / Not saying there isn't a fic involving it, but #14 sounds a lot like the Yunmeng extra in book five, as well. Ring toss, ugly turtle statue, and Wei Wuxian considering pranking Lan Qiren included. The only difference is the location. Your searcher may have mistaken it for fic, especially if they read translations online. / #14 is one of the extra chapters from the actual novel (Extra 7 in the official English translation)

I found a few similar fics with a turtle statue if you want to check them out ^^ - Mod C

The Turtle in the Lanshi by Brierilee (G, 1k, WangXian, Post Canon, POV LJY)

Jin Ling and the No Good Very Bad Terrible Year of Cloud Recesses Bullshit by cringewerewolf (T, 2k, WangXian, Juniors)

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15. hi!! looking for this funny fic based on a silly story. Lwj rejects wwx on a dating app accidently right in front of him, i think they're on an airport? they end up talking obvs and it's cute and funny @ilyweiwuxian

FOUND? Ticket to Ride by mistresscurvy (E, 18k, wangxian, Modern, Online Dating, Road Trips, Service Top, Phone Sex, Dick Pics, Wedding Banquet)

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16. Hey was hoping you guys may be able to help, I've been look for a fic I read awhile back idk if it got deleted or something but. It is a modern time wangxian fic with tattoo artist wei ying, his parents are alive too. But he ends up renting a boyfriend/ Lan wangji off a boyfriend renting site. They have misunderstandings but get through it, he even gives lan Zhan a lotus tattoo like his own and they get together officially in the end. @yilingpatriarchsimp

FOUND! Rent a Gege by wayward_wing (E, 12k, WangXian, Fluff and Angst, Smut, Bottom LWJ/Top WWX, Bottom LWJ, Top WWX, Getting Together, Older WWX, Younger LWJ, Mention of wangxian with others, WWX’s parents are alive, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Happy Ending, Blow Jobs, Riding, Skinny Dipping, eating ass, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex)

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17. I have lost a fic where Wei Wuxian is a catfish for sale and he helps jilted lovers get back at their exes. Su She hires him to target Lan Wangji but Wei Wuxian falls for him instead. Please help me find this fic!

FOUND! I'm pretty sure this one is we'll get him falling for a stranger (or a catfish) by sweetlolixo (T, 38k, wangxian, modern, College AU, Catfish AU, Eventual Happy Ending, Crossdressing WWX, Rich heir LWJ gets catfished by pretty Weiying online that's it that's the fic, LWJ learns how to text with kaomojis, Gossipy aunties NHS and WWX: canon, sometimes LWJ gives you secondhand embarrassment, this fic is on crack, Pining LWJ, Fluff, Humor, lwj is a grade A+ SIMP, Identity Porn)

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18. lan xichen is driving after drinking at night and hits Jiang yanli and she dies. Plot twist ended up she committed suicide, but they didn’t know that before. The lans and jiangs had a fight and somehow lan wangji ended up getting married to Wei wuxian. Wwx is significantly older then lan zhan in this fic.

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19. Hello! I was wondering if I could get help looking for a fic. It’s a doctor AU where LZ and WY are both surgeons. It starts with WY being late to a presentation and showing up right in the middle of LZ’s presentation time. Then WY eventually ends up working on a research project or something like that with LZ? Wen Ning gets hurt at some point in it too and WY and LZ save him against LQR’s orders. I’ve been looking for this for forever and can’t seem to find it. Thank you so much!

FOUND? Anginal Equivalents by fakeplasticlily (E, 23k, wangxian, Modern, Medical Residents AU, Childhood Friends, Mutual Pining, Oblivious WWX, WangXian.mp3, Sexual Content, Podfic Available)

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20. Hi Peeps! Thank you so much for your dedication to this page, I'm a big fan! I'm looking for a specific fic: there's a cultural show being put on by the whole gang and Wei Ying is specifically doing a dance for it but he needs to have body paint and LZ graciously volunteers for it. He ends up writing characters out of an ancient poem that Huaisang tells him is LZ basically marking him for his own. It's not idiots in love, though that one was great as well. Thank you in advance! @nebuluscharlie

FOUND? Out of the Bin and Into Your Heart by Alaceron (T, 27k, WangXian, Modern AU, Fake/Pretend relationship, Oblivious WWX)

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[sparrowrye]

Demi Demon || Alastor x Reader, part 24

Synopsis: soulmate AU where you have the same mark on your body as your soulmate, and if your soulmate dies, you die too. Alastor needs to make sure that his soulmate is safe so he can continue his reign - whatever that takes. Though it looks like we have a couple secrets of our own.

Previous part

Part 24: fulfillment

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"There needs to be a central place," Charlie paced around the small map lying on the library floor. "Somewhere for everyone to hang out and share feelings and meet each other."

Husker and I sat on one of the window seats with a drink in hand. He had alcohol and I had tea. The hot summer days brought heavy rain in most of the afternoons, either cooling things off or making everything hot and muggy. Fortunately, today was a cool day.

Alastor stood in the corner between me and the fireplace. Since the start of this project only two days ago, he had been increasingly annoying and bothersome. He always had some snide, rude, or sarcastic remark to make to anyone and everyone. When it came to me, he was always putting a hand on my shoulder. Each and every time I pushed it off.

"What about just one big hall? Meals and other activities can be held there, too." Vaggie was just as smiley as Charlie. If I had to guess, they had been bored out of their minds for decades since their hotel went under.

To my great dismay, I had been outvoted for location of the Safe Haven. We were going to build it from the ground up in the field and forest right outside the house. Alastor had casted a smug smile, one without teeth, in my direction when the decision had been made. It infuriated me.

Later, when the sun had sunk into the ocean, I was told there would be two more people arriving shortly. They were residents of Charlie's hotel long ago and apparently jumped at the chance to help her again.

She greeted the Demons at the back door and brought them into the library. One of them was a huge black snake with red eyes dotted across his skin. He wore a black hat and had long fangs poking out of his sweet smile.

The other one had four arms and a pair of legs. I thought he was a woman until he spoke and introduced himself otherwise. Husker had immediately stood beside him and the new Demon wrapped his arm around his shoulders. Husker had never told me about him before.

My veins suddenly tightened. 

Oh no. 

I asked if anyone wanted anything to eat or drink and hurried into the kitchen. I used my tail to move the one door closed, quietly, and leaned on the counter. I clutched at my chest and tried to push the feeling down. I had forgotten to hunt this morning since Charlie had practically dragged me out of bed and downstairs to plan.

"Everything alright?" Alastor's condescending tone reached my ears.

"Never better," I said through gritted teeth. I took a deep breath and grabbed mugs from the cabinet. "And no, I don't need you."

"I didn't ask."

I casted a glare up at him. I used magic to heat the kettle faster and poured hot drinks for four Demons, knowing Husker wouldn't take anything other than alcohol. I brought the drinks into the library and set them in the desk. They were all in heated discussion and I realized just then how good of friends they were with each other. I suddenly felt very out of place.

I silently disappeared and fled the house. I shifted into my Dragon and hunted through the forest for any critters. I needed something to make the pain stop.

It ended up being a bat. I sat under a large tree to stay out of the rain and sunk my teeth into its skin. No matter how much of it I drank and ate, the satisfaction grew worse. It was almost as if my body had grown immune to this type of blood.

Shit.

I made my way back to the house. Once the planning for the Safe Haven was finished, I needed to convince Charlie to let the first inhabitants be the children from the ring fights. I could get what I needed in the skirmish.

Alastor was waiting just inside the front door. "Did it suffice?"

"Leave me alone." I went back into the library feeling itchy all over. Even my blood felt itchy. At least the sharp pain was gone and it was just an annoying thorn in my back.

I was quiet for the remainder of the night for the most part. I let the group do their own thing and only offered my input when no one could decide on something. Alastor perched himself on one of the chairs in the corner and was also relatively quiet. He pushed my shields a few times as if to remind me he was there.

****

Building began the very next day. Alastor, Husker, and I spent the morning casting the water into the ocean and drying up the earth. Apparently all Demons hated rain, execept for me. Fortunately, the sun came out and helped speed up the process.

The group from last night came back ready to build. My heart stopped when I saw the King of Hell walking down in front of them. Alastor's eyes locked on the small man and static gurgled in his throat. It took all of three seconds before the two of them were at each other's throat. No one could tell me why they hated each other.

The group had decided to focus on creating basic housing 'huts', food gardens, and a common space for the newcomers to use. Once we had more people, the easier it would be to truly build the city. Charlie seemed to have a certain vision for it and some of her sketches looked interesting. She was incorporating a lot of nature into the layout. I couldn't say that I hated it. I had lived on concrete most of my life and being close to nature in the past year was really nice.

The basic layout followed most of what today's cities followed: brick and stone. She was already accounting for lots of inhabitants so the building had at least two layers to them. Everything had lots of windows to allow as much sunlight in as possible. It made sense since, even in the summer time, all the Demons wore long sleeves and pants. Husker and I were the odd ones out who were always sweating and complaining of the heat.

Alastor didn't do much to help the group. He stayed on the porch and simply watched from afar. Lucifer helped by magically spawning the material into existence but even he didn't do much to actually build anything. The rest of us used bits of magic to build the basic huts and the 'grand hall', as Charlie put it.

It felt good to have something physical to do. It was also refreshing to be around people other than Alastor and Husker. I didn't really say much, content with being silent and observant. They all seemed like really good friends and I even noticed Husker was especially close with Angel.

Everything was going fine for the most part. The huts were made from basic wood dug deep into the ground. There was a glass wall at the front where a curtain could be pulled across at night for privacy. Each one held four beds. They would soon be filled with ex-ring fighters.

Everything was going fine...until it wasn't.

We were nailing in one of the boards on the side of the hut when Angel nicked one of his arms on a nail. He pressed at the wound and dropped the hammer. My eyes widened as the smell reached my nose.

Oh no.

My feet were bolted to the ground and my hands hung still in the air. My Demon side came out as the smell only strengthened when he pulled his hand away. My veins tightened and breathing became really hard. Everything hurt. Husker was too busy tending to him to notice my state.

I breathed out through my nose and held my breath. I squeezed my eyes shut and took the to the sky in my Dragon form. I wanted to turn around so bad. I wanted to taste his sweet blood. It had been so long since I last had Demon's blood and he was so close to me. But I couldn't. That wasn't me. I wasn't a Demon like that.

But boy did Demon's blood taste sweet.

My mind started to hurt. I flew deep into the forest and landed in a cold river. I tried covering myself in the freezing water but it did nothing to rid the feeling. My eyes scanned the scenery for life, finally landing on a deer. I ran and caught it within seconds, tearing apart it's fresh and drinking it's blood.

It did nothing.

I shifted to my Demon form and tried again. No amount of blood or flesh eased the agony. It was so painful everywhere, inside and out. I needed to breathe, to think, to be normal. I needed blood other than an animal's.

I looked at the dead animal in front of me. My claws up to my elbows were covered in blood and the fronts of my pants were soaked with it. The poor creature had died for nothing.

Pain surged through me again. I curled inward and fell on my back. It felt like my body was eating itself from the inside. I crawled over to the water and looked at my reflection. My horns were obvious and blood was smeared across my face. I looked like a real Demon.

I dunked my head into the river and rubbed it off. It took several tries before most of it had finally come off my skin. My shirt and pants would need to be thrown out.

"This is very unbecoming of you." My head jerked up to see Alastor standing a few paces from me, cane in hand.

"What the hell do you want?" I snapped. I dried my face with the clean part of my shirt. I was afraid to stand in case it made the pain pulse again.

"To ensure my soulmate doesn't die because of her stubbornness and stupidity."

"I'm not stupid."

"You have waited so long and let yourself reach such a painful state because you couldn't set your ego and morals aside."

"You're one to talk about ego." Another pulse ran through my body. I curled further into myself as nausea took hold of me. I dug my hands into the earth and let out a strangled yell. I just needed it all to stop.

"All you had to do was ask." His cane tapped the rocks as he stepped near me. He knelt down and held out his hand. A piece of red meat sat on brown paper in his palm. He used his claw to poke it so blood dripped out.

Hunger and pain threw me off balance. I clung to the grass as my world began to tilt wildly to one side. My breathing came out in long, hard gasps. My head felt cloudy and I couldn't think straight. All I could focus on was the sweet smell of the blood in his hand.

I reached for it but he held it up. "Ah ah, you have to ask me first."

"What?" I choked.

"If you want this pain to go away, you have to ask me for this simple antidote."

"I'm not...you're...you can't..." I gagged as the pain worsened. I put a hand into the cold water but it did nothing to wake me up. "P-please..."

"Please what?"

"Please..." I started to drool as I struggled to push myself to my elbows. Everything took thrice the effort. I didn't want to ask him but it was so close. All I had to do was ask. That's it. "Can...can I have it?"

"What was that, dear?" He put a hand up to his ear condescendingly.

"Can I have it?" I asked through gritted teeth.

"Of course, darling." He held out the meat and I snatched it from his grasp. My teeth pierced the sweet flesh and the blood soothed every ache and pain in my body. It felt so satisfying as it slipped down my throat and warmed my body.

My head cleared and my muscles relaxed as I swallowed it. I let out a heavy sigh and laid down. I craved more but it had satisfied what I needed. I felt calm.

"Come, darling, let's make you presentable."

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Author's Note:

OoooOoOOoh I liked this one a lot. Also, would y'all be interested in the Spotify playlist I listen to when I write this story?

[dirtbra1n]

you ever wake up at two in the morning with ace attorney thinker glasses on and then suffer consequences for days after. Ha ha

so we’re all on the same page that maya was only so comfortable being such—and I do say this so so so lovingly—a complete leach and pest, leaving phoenix exhausted and harried and dirt poor, because she trusted him not to run away. not to abandon her. not to leave her behind.

because mia did. run away and abandon her and leave her behind. maya LOVED mia and still does, absolutely. ABSOLUTELY. but mia left the village and left maya there alone to bear a burden that wasn’t supposed to be hers. left maya to handle their aunt morgan alone.

like a critical part of their relationship is that mia kind of sucks. this is such high praise for her as a character and a statement of love for her as a person Mia Fey kind of really sucks. she doesn’t not love her little sister, but she had to leave. she had to. leaving the village on one of the old motorcycles they kept in a garage-turned-shack, one that used to make grocery trips before a staff shortage shut down the store fifteen minutes away, and giving maya a long kiss on the forehead, holding her face in her hands, and getting on the bike with underclothes on, the only clothes she has that cover her legs and let her stretch them at the same time. and driving away, leaving maya standing there, alone. so little.

so life goes on. holding onto evidence. blunt force trauma. maya ends up with phoenix in the city—meets him, reserved, convinced she’s going to die in prison. is given the light of his unwavering faith in her innocence. sees the look in his eyes that says, I’m not going to leave you alone. cracks.

the maya fey that we get the privilege of loving, and getting to know, was born in criminal detention. a younger sister that gets to act like it for a while.

until she leaves first, because she can’t abandon pearl the way mia abandoned her. she goes back to the village to train.

have to say that maya’s grief of mia’s death was solely about never getting to really know her as a person. she’s never going to really know her older sister. but it’s solely about THAT because she’s had years to come to terms with the fact that the title and burden of being head of the family was going to be hers. years to practice ignoring the way aunt morgan’s eyes burned at her.

mia was a violent nervous person, by the way. we know this. punches under pressure.

redd white gets back to the gatewater with bleeding teeth marks on his arm.

anyway though. maya goes back to kurain to commit herself to her training, goes back to ignoring the burning in aunt morgan’s eyes. she doesn’t feel good about the way that seven year old pearly is mothering her. not that it’s pearl’s fault.

a mother that doesn’t really care about her happiness so much as her future success. because if morgan really cared about what pearly wanted she’d never DREAM of hurting maya. but that’s neither here nor there.

but phoenix. the three of them a family unit, eventually, when they’ve essentially just got each other. phoenix gets disbarred. trucy comes into their lives. their family unit, plus one.

maya doesn’t feel GOOD, exactly, with watching phoenix go the way he goes (drinking problem, mostly) but damn if she wasn’t born to help run a grift. (pearl does their finances.)

maya DEFINITELY doesn’t feel good about watching phoenix go the way he goes with kristoph, though. not necessarily that maya doesn’t trust kristoph. but those two… maya looks up from where she’s elbow-deep in dish water, turns around to look into the living room where pearl and trucy are passed out on the pullout sofa, past them. looks at the front door phoenix walked out an hour and a half ago to head out to dinner. he promised to bring some shitty too-expensive food back.

he might not be back til morning.

it’s probably not that she doesn’t trust kristoph as a person, but that she knows that those two… really aren’t…… good for each other. like it’s none of her damn business, but geez, nick.

saw a thread on twitter once about how maybe kristoph defended maya once, when phoenix was obviously unable to. I should go and find that again. because that’s kind of what I think happened here.

You didn’t just brain a guy with a juice bottle for no reason. Tell me why you did it.

phoenix wright and his unfailing bone deep trust in people. phoenix who absolutely did not trust kristoph with his life but didn’t really care about that so long as he could trust him to take care of loved ones. phoenix who did, also, fully trust kristoph with his life.

a contradiction. big surprise.

[satureja13]

Poor Ms Coombes. It was one of the hardest decisions in her long life to order oblibious Ji Ho to attack Vlad hidden in that mannequin. But Ji Ho would have never directed his powers purposefully at Vlad. No matter how angry they would have made him. Yes. She also ordered the others to additionally upset Ji Ho so he let out all his feelings and anger... They needed to find out what's about that spell Morgan mentioned. In a safe environment - before the Boys would return to the mundane world. (Ms Coombes is convinced that Ji Ho's grandfather put a spell on him to seduce Vlad. It must have happened two years ago, after Ji Ho left the Slums and lived in the ocean until she found him. Ji Ho's grandfather and the Council just waited until Ji Ho gained his feelings back and sooner or later they would further influence him to steal Vlad's powers and the Prophecy would be averted and the Council remained save. As it seems, Ji Ho's grandfather already managed to influence Ji Ho in the Therapy Game. They might be nowhere safe from him.) Luckily Vlad was prepared and able to parry Ji Ho's attack. Wesley also put a protection spell on the mannequin. The worst damage done is Vlad's broken heart. Was the love he felt for Ji Ho really a lie? They can only be sure after they found a way to remove the spell. But does Vlad really want this? Better under a spell than without Ji Ho.

The others gathered in the Screaming Mandrake for dinner. Ji Ho: "Where is Vlad?" Kiyoshi: "Oh, um... Ms Coombes has something to discuss with him. She has to leave soon and needs to make sure we are covered for the next days until our next lessons." They ate in silence. They love Ji Ho. But now, that they know what he's capable of... Ms Coombes did warn them to not let this incident change their feelings for Ji Ho - and of course it doesn't. Just...

They are more determined than ever to work extra hard to find a way to finally remove that spell. Ji Ho does still not know that Vlad was hidden in the mannequin. He's just so happy to finally feel powerful. Powerful enough to search for his grandfather and fight him. And once he's dead, that spell would die with him.

Ms Coombes joined them, she has to leave soon. She can't speak openly around Ji Ho, so she just told Sai and Jeb to meet Vlad to talk about their schedule for the next days... (Means to look after him in the hospital wing until he feels better ö.ö) And Ji Ho to clean up the Defense against the Dark Arts Classroom. (Because he caused the most mess down there.)

Jack and Kiyoshi care for Vlad in the night shift, so Kiyoshi took Jack to the beach. Vlad is Jack's best friend and he's worried beyond measure. He needs a break. Jack: "Thank you for saving Vlad, Kiyoshi. And for being there for me. I'm having a hard time." Kiyoshi: "Vlad will be fine. Even though Ji Ho hit him harder than expected, Wesley did a great job with that protection spell. He'll be out of the hospital wing by tomorrow, you'll see. And - I'll always be there for you."

Jack: "I'd love to be your mate - always. And... and I grew fond of you. Now that we finally left all the misunderstandings and madness behind us. But is this possible even though you're a deity know? Don't you have to leave again to do your eh... deity stuff?" Kiyoshi laughed: "Even though I've spent 6 decades in that tree, and there are people who think of me as a deity and worship me - to be honest they mostly worship the tree. And it's the tree who heals them. I just kind of nurish it somehow. Anyway, I'm not more special than you are, Super Soldier ^^' And no, I won't leave you again. I've learned my part. Painfully." Jack sighed and looked at the last remaining rash spot on his arm. He also learned his part, painfully: "That almost sounds to good to be true. I'm happy, you know?" Kiyoshi: "I'm happy too."

They sat there for a while and talked about this and that and Jack put his arm around Kiyoshi again to make sure he doesn't tip over, like last time... And Kiyoshi leaned his head on Jack's shoulder - until it was time to take turns with Jeb in the hospital wing to care for Vlad.

Sai spent the time in between with Ji Ho, doing homework and preparing their upcoming meeting where they'd discuss how to remove that spell from Ji Ho. And now it's time to go to bed. Ji Ho: "Where is Jack?" Of course Sai can't tell Ji Ho that Jack spends the night in the hospital wing with Vlad who got hurt by Ji Ho's attack... Sai: "Ah, he sleeps upstairs..." (That's not even a lie, since the hospital wing is upstairs - just upstairs the tops' bedroom...) Ji Ho: "With his Alphas? Aren't you going to drag him out of there?"

Saiwa: "I think we shouldn't worry about this anymore." Ji Ho: "Hm..." As if that were so easy! Ji Ho does not want Vlad to have anyone else than him! As soon as this spell is removed and Vlad - hopefully - still fells something for him, he will hit so hard on Vlad, he forgets Jack and his damn pheromones ever existed! Maybe Vlad will hate Ji Ho because he seduced him? Will Vlad still feel something for him when the spell is gone?

That's the same thing Vlad still worries about. How will it feel when the spell is removed? Will there be any attraction left between them to build a relationship upon? Or will they just be - what? They barely ever talked to each other or spent much time together. So they didn't even have something that could be called friendship. What will this make them after the spell is gone? Acqaintances? Gladly Jack is with him. His presence soothes him. Just a few more days and they'll know more.

Before Vlad fell in a restless sleep, he hears Skully singing from 2 floors below, until Sai told yelled at him to shut up already...

'Every night in my dreams I see you, I feel you That is how I know you go on

Far across the distance And spaces between us You have come to show you go on

Near, far, wherever you are I believe that the heart does go on Once more, you open the door And you're here in my heart And my heart will go on and on'

Celine Dion - My Heart will go on

TMI: I've never seen that movie! ö.ö No way I'm gonna waste my time when I already know beforehand there's no happy end...

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