#back in there day emotions weren’t a thing

[pathologicalreid]

merry christmas, please don't call | s.r.

in which Spencer pens an email to you, since you've already blocked his phone number

who? spencer reid x fem!reader category: angst content warnings: nondescript break up, described as spencer's fault, reader is mentioned to have worn lipstick, yearning, word count: 907 a/n: and the worst part is!!! that we both know!!!!! we are doing kind of an unofficial margotmas/reidmas! really i've just been building up christmas ideas for a while lol

To: xreader@gmail.com From: Spencer.Reid@gmail.com Subject: Merry Christmas

Hey,

Spencer shook his head, that was too casual.

Good afternoon,

Much too formal.

Hello,

Too rigid.

Darling,

I passed by the house that you told me you adored. It used to be your dream house; you’d always show me the Zillow listing whenever you were browsing. The owners didn’t put up their Christmas lights this year, and it looks like they’re getting ready to sell. I haven’t been online to check the listing, that was always your thing rather than mine.

Do you remember the house? It had four bedrooms for our kids to sleep in and a library with stained-glass windows. You always told me the stained-glass windows were your favorite feature of my apartment. I keep it covered now; the colored glass just serves as a painful reminder of you.  

Emily called me last week. I suppose no one told her that we weren’t together anymore because she asked what our holiday plans were. I haven’t made any since you left. I’m finding myself hopeful that we get called on a case over Christmas so that I don’t need to be surrounded by the world celebrating while I continue to wallow in the memories of you and me.

That’s all I have now: memories. We made so many of them over the course of three years that I don’t know what to do with them. I’ve always had the sneaking suspicion that having an eidetic memory is a curse just as much as it is a blessing, but with you gone, I know it’s more of a curse. I see you when I close my eyes as if your features have been permanently tattooed on the back of my eyelids, but when my eyes are open, everything is exponentially worse.

You left in such a hurry, so you were bound to leave a few things behind. When I went to make a cup of coffee and found one of your mugs in my cabinet, JJ and Penelope had to practically scrape me off the kitchen floor. There was still a lipstick smudge on it, a piece of our history the dishwasher couldn’t quite wash off. Your necklace was on the bedside table, though maybe that was left behind on purpose. I wish we could go back to the day I gave it to you, you could wear the same green dress, and maybe work wouldn’t get in the way. If I could, I’d call you to ask why you left it behind, but you’ve blocked my number.

There was no need for you to leave me things to remember you by, how could I ever forget you?

I’ve been finding myself grateful that you got so close with Garcia during our relationship, she doesn’t give me any explicit details on your life when she updates me. I never ask, but she knows I want to hear.

It’s a rather odd phenomenon to have once had someone who you shared everything with, only to one day find they want nothing to do with you. I always find myself reaching for my phone to send to a message, or leaning over to show you a line in my book, but you’re not there anymore. I don’t hold any malice in my heart for you, even after you called it all off. My biggest regret is that I couldn’t be the boyfriend that you needed, and I’m proud of you for realizing you wanted someone better. I’m sorry I couldn’t be better.

Maybe I still have some growing up to do. There might be some sort of emotional stunting as a result of my less-than-orthodox upbringing and education, which makes sense when you consider two of my most common nicknames, “boy genius” and “kid.” One day I could find myself in the same place you were, ready for more, but maybe then I’ll be with someone who is ready for the same things as I am. She’ll never be you though. You’ll always hold that special place in my heart.

Speaking of my upbringing, my mom keeps asking about you. Each time we talk on the phone, she asks if she can talk to you, but I’ve been telling her that you’re still working or are otherwise preoccupied. I know I shouldn’t lie to her, but if I tell her, she’ll inevitably forget, and I’ll be forced to recount the story of how I lost the best thing to ever happen to me forever. That would be my eternal damnation. There’s Sisyphus and Tantalus and Spencer Reid, slowly becoming nothing but a myth. I wonder if I’m a story that you tell your friends at O’Keefe’s.

I go there sometimes, just to see if I can catch your gaze, but you’re never there.

I know this is your favorite holiday, and I don’t intend to ruin your holidays with my message. I suppose I just needed to see if you still dream about that house. To see if you still dream of me the way I dream of you.

Merry Christmas,

Spencer

He clicked send nervously, ready to snap his work-issued laptop shut when it chirped with a notification. Surely you hadn’t responded that quickly. Spencer opened his inbox once more, checking the latest email.

To: Spencer.Reid@gmail.com From: mailer-daemon@googlemail.com Subject: Delivery Status Notification (Failure)

Message blocked.

Your message to xreader@gmail.com has been blocked. See technical details below for more information.

[finelinevogue]

bump

summary - you don’t like people constantly touching your baby bump

word count - +1k

pairing - azriel x reader

✨🌙💫🌟✨🌙💫🌟✨🌙💫🌟✨🌙💫🌟✨

The party was in full swing.

It had been 2 weeks since you’d announced to your close friends and family that you and Azriel were pregnant - after having 1 month living with the news just you two.

Somehow, Rhys had managed to plan and pull-off a party in that short space of time in order to celebrate your pregnancy.

It was relatively low-key, only people that were closest to you and your family having been invited - mainly because you didn’t want a huge thing made of it but also because Azriel was a mad-man at the moment and wouldn’t let anyone he didn’t trust with his life near you.

Azriel had been overprotective to say the least.

Just the other day you’d tried to reach for your favourite mug in a very accessible shelf above you, but Azriel saw what you were doing and instantly panicked - moving you gently out of the way and fetching it for you. To which he also proceeded in making you a tea as he didn’t want you anywhere near boiling water.

“I can make my own cup of tea, Az.” You sighed.

“I know you can, but I can also make one for you.” He replied. That was his usual reply nowadays.

“I’m not incapable you know?”

“I know. I just… I can–.”

“Yes I know you can, love, but I don’t need you to all the time, okay? I love that you want to take care of me, but I also don’t want to feel useless.”

“How could you be useless? You’re currently doing the most important thing that you could ever be doing.” Azriel placed a soft hand on your stomach.

But after shunning Azriel for being too overprotective, you sort of wish he would bring it back again in this moment.

This party was lovely, but it was also so overwhelming.

You didn’t realise how many people would be so interested in coming up to you and feeling your baby bump. Hands constantly touching you when they usually wouldn’t if you weren’t pregnant. It felt weird and uncomfortable.

“Y/N!” Layla called, walking up to you with a glass of bubbly in her hand.

“Layla, hi.” You smiled at your friend who had worked with you in the Velaris bakery for many years.

“I can’t believe you’re pregnant.” She gushed, giggling a bit with excitement.

“Really? With the amount Y/N and Az sneak around every moment they get, I thought it was about damn time.” Nesta came up alongside you, rolling her eyes as is her and Cassian don’t do the exact same thing.

“Well with a mate like Azriel, I don’t blame you.” Layla wiggled her eyebrows and you gave her a small smile - feeling a little insecure that someone as beautiful as Layla was gushing over your mate whilst you were starting to look like an inflated balloon.

You felt Nesta give you a side look before wandering off into the crowd, leaving you to once again speak to Layla alone.

“So how far along are you?” Layla asked.

It would have been fine if she just asked that, but she had to go and put her hand against your bump at the same time.

You were far too polite to say anything but you really didn’t like her hand on your stomach. Not just hers but also everyone else’s who’d decided to just touch you without asking first.

It was starting to feel invasive.

“About 12 weeks.” You gave her a small smile, stepping back slightly.

Unfortunately for you she just followed, adding her hand back.

“Wow so you didn’t have any symptoms for a while then?” She asked, cupping the roundness of your belly with her palm.

It didn’t feel as comforting as when Azriel touched you. Nothing ever would, but there was something so overstimulating about someone other than your mate just touching you before asking. It felt a little violating.

Before you could get emotional about it in front of a crowded room you excused yourself.

You hurried as fast as you could out of the nearest door and walked through the corridors of the House of Wind.

The tears had arrived as you were walking, your heart beating fast and hands shaking with nerves.

Was it rude to not let people touch your bump? You couldn’t help but think.

Yet, at the same time you would never just go up to a female and put your hands on her pregnant bump - even if it was Feyre - You respect their boundaries too much. So why did you feel like getting upset about this was silly?

Was it the hormones? Because they had been making you feel slightly crazy recently.

You made it to the kitchen without bumping in to anyone.

You braced your arms on the kitchen counter and sunk your chin to your chest, letting out small whimpers as the tears fell.

There was no need to jump from your skin when Azriel’s arms snaked around your waist to hug you because you’d felt his presence the moment he’d appeared in the room. His cheek was delicately placed on the back of your head to still allow you the time and space to be upset.

Some of his shadows were already snaking around your arms in support and stomach in protection.

“What’s wrong, love?” He asked and you had to laugh at his tone.

“Ask me what you really want to ask, Az.” You lifted your chin up and tilted your head to the side to try and see him.

“I’m not sure asking you who I need to kill is the right thing to say when you’re crying.”

You chuckled, kissing the side of his face.

Azriel let you turn around in his hold, not letting your waist go for a moment though. Now his head was tilted down to face yours.

“Tell me.” He said softly.

Your smile broke as your lips wobbled, trying to focus on not crying and instead talk it through with your mate.

“I hate it.” Your voice wavered.

“Hate what? Who?”

“I hate purple touching my bump.”

“Okay.” Azriel said but didn’t add any thoughts for you. He wanted to hear you say everything on your mind first.

“N-not you. But, people have been touching my bump all day without asking and I hate it. I hate it so much, but I feel like a witch if I tell them to get off. Like it’s just my stomach at the end of the day..”

Azriel moved his hands quickly from your waist to cup your cheeks, stroking his thumb carefully over your cheeks. His touch immediately stopped you from talking.

“Woah, woah, woah. No. Don’t do that. Don’t try and talk yourself out of feeling the way you do. It’s your stomach, love. It’s your baby. No one should be doing anything you’re not comfortable with - ever.”

“No I know, but…”

“No buts. Y/N, love, if you feel uncomfortable then that’s the line I draw. The next person to touch your bump without asking is going to lose their hand.”

You give him a stoic look, but part of you was seriously wondering whether he was being truthful.

“Will you stay with me for the rest of the night?”

“Or how about we don’t go back at all.” He raised his eyebrows in suggestion at you.

“If you’re on the same wavelength as me then yes - please!”

“Perfect.” He kissed you softly, both your chests warming at the touch, “You get the ice-cream and I will get the blankets.”

[mysticmutants]

not a lot, just forever (pt.2)

summary: weddings weren’t logans thing, but being at one with you made him mind them a whole lot less. your (not so) subtle confession may have helped—but now it’s his turn to make the next move.

pairing: logan howlett x reader

word count: 1.3k

warnings: romcom themes, weddings, possible ooc!logan, reader is described as wearing a dress

authors note: thank you to everyone who read and interacted w my first fic. it genuinely means so much! here’s a part two for everyone who was asking<3 I’ll be working on requests over the next few days, feel free to keep them coming loves! part 1 is on my profile (still figuring out hyperlinks and such, masterlist will be coming soon!) ౨ৎ

logan doesn’t think he’s ever been more excited for a party. whenever there’s been a gathering or a social event at the mansion in the past, he’s been enthusiastic, sure, but mostly at the prospect of being able to get drunk off of his ass—not having to deal with the heavy weight that finds its home in his chest when he’s sober.

this time, though, it’s not the liquor. that’s almost the last thing on his mind, for the first time in years. right now, all he can think of is you. you in your dress, your perfume overwhelming his senses in the best way possible.

his heart finds a shaky rhythm in his chest as time inches on, throwing noncommittal glances at the altar where jean and scott exchange their vows. his knee bounces up and down sporadically, as he attempts to subdue his racing mind. he can feel you next to him, feel the heat radiating off of you—or was that him? he wasn’t so sure. he steals small glances at you, biting back the urge to reach for your hand; settling instead for resting his arm on the back of your chair.

he almost lets out a cheer when everyone begins filing out of the venue—ripping him from his thoughts. his eyes catch on you momentarily, breath hitching in his throat at the mere sight of you, holding up your dress and treading carefully on the grass. if he was bolder, less reserved, he’d extend an arm and help you. as everyone gathers outside, cooing at the newlyweds, he’s only focused on one thing.

the bouquet.

everyone knew the old wives tale. whoever catches the bouquet, is next on the list to get hitched. determination swells in his his chest, eyeing the assortment of pink and white blooms that rest in jeans arms.

he observes the surrounding area as photographers flash a few pictures of the couple— the more animal side of his brain working overtime, like a wolf stalking a caribou. he doubts that he’ll actually go for it, too rational to do something so childish. it seems he has no choice, however, because as soon as he sees a flash of pink and white against the blue sky, he’s already taken off—as though his legs made up his mind for him. he weaves through the crowd, hushed apologies falling past his lips. once he reaches the clearing, he jumps off, reaching for his prize. a smug grin adorns his lips, as he grazes the wrapping of the flowers—only to have it jerked away from him.

his brow furrows as feet meet solid ground once more, only to soften when his eyes lay upon the person who actually caught the bundle of flowers.

you stand in front of him, eyes locking with his. any frustration in his mind is washed clean as he sees the grin on your face, flushed cheeks. you stay gazing at him for a little too long; even as your shared friends gather to congratulate you.

those who were close to you, though—namely your teammates— knew that this meant something deeper. anyone who knew logan could tell that he had feelings for you, and vice versa. the stolen glances, hands brushing as you walk side by side.

as the throng of people begin to head for their cars, logan tries to spot you in the crowd, itching to tell you how he feels—to confess— spilling every emotion he’s ever felt for you onto the dirt for you to do as you please with. he sighs gruffly, heading for his motorcycle.

the road to the mansion is practically ingrained into his memory, unfortunately giving him enough time to overthink the rest of his evening. what if he misread? what if you changed your mind? what if he got you hurt? what if it was actually about someone else? like scott, or hank.

please don’t let it be scott.

he pulls up to the large building, gates propped open to allow guests easy entry. upon entering the room where the reception is held, his eyes immediately search for you: something that’s become a daily occurrence in his life since you stumbled into it. when he finds you, you’re already there, staring right back at him. if he had a tail, it would be wagging.

he rolls up his shirtsleeves, tugging at his tie anxiously, hating the way it clings to his throat. he clears his throat gruffly, swallowing his pride before starting across the polished wood floor, directly to you. he stands in front of you, his cheeks flushed this time.

“hey,”

he starts, any plan or script he had in mind abandoned once he saw your face. placing a palm on the back of his neck, his jaw tightens.

feelings.

logan had seen the worst parts of humanity. its darkest corners—and conquered it. risen above. yet feelings, were something he could never seem to overcome. but he’d be damned if he didn’t try for you.

“logan,” you speak, voice soft and low. he knew you. you hated to see him struggle—always wanted to finish his sentences so he didn’t have to say the hard things. he raises a hand, stopping you in your tracks. “let me,” he huffs. he takes a moment to look at you, really look at you. your parted lips, pupils wide. he has all the courage he needs.

sucking in a deep breath, he finds his footing.

“you were right. about me, i mean. i am scared. fuckin’ terrified, actually. im…” he trails off, swallowing hard in an attempt to regain himself, to soothe his racing mind. “telling you this— telling you how I feel, scared me, darlin’. but after you telling me you felt the same I realized that… never getting the chance to hold you—at least not in the way I want to—scares me a hell of a lot more.” he finishes, gazing at his feet. if he met your eyes right now, he didn’t know if he’d be able to continue, his brain screaming at him to give into fear. to run away.

for once he didn’t want to run. not this time. silence hangs in the air for a moment after his words, the anticipation allowing him to drag his eyes up your body, meeting yours.

before he can register, there’s a hand on his jaw, and one on the back of his neck pulling him closer. your foreheads meet, dark eyes gazing into yours. he almost melts at the way you look at him. doe eyed, completely at his mercy. he meets you halfway, plush lips meet his. shaky hands wind around your waist, tugging you in closer to him.

for a moment, the world stops.

it’s just you two. no nightmares, no impending doom. just this.

as you both pull back, logans heart calms in his chest. for the first time in a long time. he can breathe, actually think—cathartic. his eyes stay closed, chin coming to rest atop your head as he pulls you into him.

“I love you.”

your words make him jump a little. he knew what he was feeling. he had for a long time—too scared to admit it to himself. he softens after a moment, warmth filling his chest. it felt right. his right person.

“I love you too.”

as you pull back, world around you seemingly coming back to life— a slow song plays from the speakers softly, couples and friends gathering to dance. a hand reaches for logans wrist, guiding him to the dance floor.

his hands find their place around your waist, yours around his neck. your bodies intertwine, your face to his chest and his chin on your head. his eyes flutter shut, heightened hearing tuning out everything around him, focusing in on your heartbeat. steady, soft. home.

you sway softly, gathered by friends, and loved ones.

the beginning of forever.

[hitlikehammers]

oh golden boy (don't act like you were kind)

part i : you were mine but—

for @kultiras at the ❄️ Winter @steddieexchange 🖤🩵

Arguably the sharpest knife in his chest about this whole fucking shitshow?

Eddie thought they were doing good.

Like: so fucking good.

Eddie thought they were on the cusp of…that they were building something.

He’s such an idiot. Such a…

A heartsick fucking idiot.

But if he’s gracious—which he’s not, least of all to himself—when he puts all the pieces together, lines the evidence up and analyzes it, thinks of it in terms of a narrative that he can understand and recognize the flaws in, where he’d rewrite the ending or tweak the rising action so everything slides into place realistically, cause and effect in balance just right: Eddie can see that the way this has all shaken out is fucked up. So, so fucked up.

Because there honestly hadn’t been any signs that they weren’t laying the foundations of something long-term, something lasting; that they weren’t in this deep and rooted, strong and committed and serious in a real, tangible way, and, just…

Forever. Eddie was…he was playing for keeps, here. He thought, he just, he thought—

Fuck.

He just…really believed he wasn’t alone in it all.

Again: idiot.

It’d started so fucking predictably, really, because if there’s one thing that Eddie clocked about Steve Harrington from the get-go of actually getting to know him versus operating on the popular-gorgeous-jock framework he’d distilled the guy down to in his head before 1986: the one consistent thing he’d figured from what he’d heard and what he’d seen put together was that: Steve Harrington?

Bastard’s protective to a fucking fault.

So when he blinked back to the land of the living with Steve goddamn Harrington at his bedside? Standing guard, looking a little haggard—like he cared, at least enough to worry—but still fucking devastatingly pretty, good god-

When he woke up to that, Eddie was surprised and also: not at all surprised.

The way he lit up when he saw Eddie was conscious, like world was less before that moment and something right slid back into place? Eddie…Eddie felt like his body was pretty wholly broken but that fucking cracked something down his middle, decimated parts of him in new ways that hadn’t been already devastated on another plane, were sitting ripe for wholesale ruin.

He’d let Steve blame the breathiness that’d overcome him on coming back from the brink of death, because Steve didn’t need to know the sensations, the emotions, that were running riot through Eddie’s veins.

But then it hadn’t stopped.

Steve standing guard at his side became a constant, like Eddie couldn’t quite comprehend save that it felt like his body was knitting itself around the fact of this more-than-good dude and Eddie wasn’t entirely sure what to do with that, save kind of just…poke curiously at the new shape of everything he was for it, and once he worked through the fear of the unfamiliar in it?

To kinda…savor it. Roll around in it and relish.

Probably it was gonna be short lived anyway. Probably it was gonna go away when Eddie finally got out of here. Only made sense to soak it up while it lasted.

And it was one of those early days, where Eddie was soaking it up and before anything possible beyond the bubble of middle-space they were existing in inside Eddie’s hospital room was even hinted at. Steve had gone to check on Max while Eddie grappled a bit to look down at himself a little better under the handkerchief that the hospital deemed sufficient as clothing, and he braced for the worst because it felt like the worst and what he did remember at all from the scene of the inter-dimensional mauling definitely aligned with being ‘the worst’: but it was honestly mostly bandages and pain.

Eddie didn’t…on second thought he didn’t know if he was ready to see what was underneath just yet, so he was actually kinda grateful that his hubris about it all didn’t immediately have a chance to floor him, especially when he was alone because he’d thought it’d be easier to stomach if it was just him—but the prospect, the bullet dodged, lodged in his throat and proved him kinda instantly wrong for the sharp cut of bile rising in him, and the violent jump of his pulse right behind it.

His hand had gravitated to his chest, though, like he could keep his heart from cracking his ribs that way, and he noticed that…even the light pressure ached, so he looked down a little more carefully, didn’t think the little fuckers had concentrated their attacks on the center of his chest so he tucked his chin and tried to see what was causing the sting—maybe just like, general area tenderness after playing buffet table to fucking…flying hellspace rodents but—

No. No: even from this weird-ass uncomfortable angle, Eddie could see the outline, coukd make out the dark stain of a bruise.

In the shape of a hand.

And listen, Eddie wasn’t foolish. He knew that everyone busted ass to get him topside and to a hospital. And that probably involved…stuff he didn’t want to really dwell on too long in terms of the nitty-gritty of his own mortality. He was also very much aware that Steve had played a crucial role, even if the man himself didn’t stand up and declare it. The kids didn’t have any sense of a fucking filter, so.

Eddie knew.

But Eddie then started tracing the splay of fingers on his sternum, his heartbeat so fucking heavy under even just the brush of his nails as he followed the outline of the purpling over, and over, and over, imagined what it would take to make that kind of an impression on his skin because Eddie was fucking pale, yeah, he marked quick—but not that dark.

Not that deep.

“Shit.”

Eddie’d startled, snapped his attention to the doorway where Steve had reappeared, looking a little breathless as he took Eddie in, came quick to his side and leaned to look closer at the monitor next to him and oh: Eddie hadn’t realized that the beeping was so loud, so fast. Hadn’t realized his heartbeat had ratcheted up quite so high.

Not that he was surprised.

“Shit, are you okay,” Steve barely breathed, eyes so goddamn big about it as his hands had kinda hovered, as he’d tried to figure out what to do, how to help, because that was what he was always doing; that’s who he was to his core, and Eddie…

“Oh god, let me call the nu—”

“Don’t.”

Eddie’d half-moaned it, god: scratchy but desperate as he reached for Steve’s hand and he…

He suspected he knew exactly how big that hand was; what shape it’d make to a fucking T. But he needed to see

For sure.

“What are you,” Steve’s brow had furrowed in that way Eddie was becoming increasingly aware he wanted to kiss smooth, and he started to ask it as Eddie grabbed to uncurl his grip from the bar at the side of the bed but Steve gave up fighting quick, focused on stopping Eddie from moving at all instead, from stretching the way he was against the precarious threads holding him together as he reached for the neck of his gown again, still loose enough from where he’d pulled the back up, left his ass out against the sheets to bare his breastbone, the mess of the tattoos on his chest more grisly after everything than any horrors he’d gotten inked before but—

This was a different kind of horrifying thing. Not least—maybe most—because it was entirely possible that it was also the most beautiful, sacred thing to ever touch Eddie’s skin. To ever beat through Eddie’s fucking veins.

“You,” Eddie let go of the last breath he could wrestle out before his lungs seized up too tight, because then he was watching it happen, watching Steve’s broad palm as it hovered over the imprint, shivering when Steve’s warmth made contact: eclipsing the bruise near-perfect, just like Eddie knew deep down it fucking would.

His heart took the hint and started shivering under Steve’s hand immediately, like it had something to prove.

“Ed,” Steve’s voice was wispy, choked a little; eyes too bright and Eddie feels like there must be so many kinds of dying, because he’d felt one keenly under that angry red lightning; this was a wholly other thing.

But felt just as keenly life-or-death.

“You,” Eddie whispered, the words, the truth, the feeling of it all too fragile, too precious to disturb, and he wondered if his heart knew Steve had pushed the bruises down around it to save it, if that’s why it was so unbridled and unabashed in hammering against that touch, that touch—

“I think I heard you.”

And Steve? Big eyes framed with those feather lashes, stretched wide and all made of shine and earnest fucking feeling?

“You didn’t…want to lose me?” Eddie’s voice had been so small, so so small because he did think he’d heard that, and the wisps of recollection, of a frantic but resolute voice demanding of him: what he was able to collect and try to tie into a whole matched up when he paired it all with Steve in his head, but what if he was wrong?

What if it was all just fever dreams and wishful thinking on his deathbed, what if Steve had no investment in him beyond keeping the Party safe in its entirety, no exceptions; what if Eddie was fucking wrong and showed too much of his hand with this, with Steve’s palm pressed to his thrashing heart and—

Then Steve was brining his free hand to Eddie’s cheek, fucking…cradling it like it fucking meant something, like he could matter and—

“I couldn’t lose you.”

Oh.

“You,” and so many possible ways to end that thought had swam through Eddie’s head—you barely know me, you can’t possibly care if I live or die, I cannot matter one fucking bit in your universe, so why would it matter but Steve’s hand was warm under his, and Steve didn’t pull away, only leaned in, only stayed close enough that Eddie could feel his breath on his skin and Steve could chart the way Eddie’s heart took to pummelling his already-taxed ribs but it didn’t matter, it couldn’t matter because Steve held there, so careful of the pain but nothing short of steady, devoted, a soul-sworn guard of that heart under his hand like it did matter, like Eddie did…

Like Steve ever could—

“Stevie,” Eddie would probably have flushed if the situation had been anything but what it was. If his heart wasn’t racing into Steve’s touch at the chest and just under the jaw where Steve’s thumb pressed almost proprietary, almost like a shield but also like a welcome, like the idea of Eddie’s heart beating into him wasn’t a dealbreaker, and fuck, fuck—

“I don’t know what I’m doing,” Steve breathed out against him, prickling dangerous across his skin and Eddie’s heart leapt a little, fuck; more than a little and Steve felt it, front-row-center, couldn’t not feel it but he just leaned closer still, and Eddie was front-row himself to the catch in Steve’s inhale, undeniable and unapologetic as he murmured low, turning into Eddie’s cheek a little and Eddie maybe resented how it forced him to pull away,until his lips brushed the tip of Eddie’s jawbone and drew a whole ass shudder down his goddamn spine.

“Just know,” Steve gasped there, fucking…panted and hell if it didn’t catch in Eddie’s blood like pure bliss; “just know why.”

And fuck, but Eddie could only press in to the warmth of Steve’s lips where they moved for the words alone, let alone what words; what Eddie thought maybe they meant—

“Me too,” Eddie rasped a little, because fuck him, man; this was something…something else, swelling up in his chest so strong and Steve had to be able to feel it where he still held against him, palm to his galloping pulse at the source, feeling the life he coaxed back into the world.

“Does it have to make sense just yet?” Eddie asked, knew he sounded too hopeful, too desperate, more than he’d earned, than was safe but his heart kept knocking against that hand, so fucking insistent and who was he to deny it, to try and wrestle in into being less when he couldn’t even hide it, when it was evident to the man it was leaping at; for.

“I don’t think so,” Steve mouthed more than spoke where his lips dragged wet across the stubble on Eddie’s cheek.

“Then,” Eddie tipped his head, tried to catch Steve’s eyes, aimed to reason, to convince but the moment he moved, Steve dipped his chin just so to take Eddie’s lips, to kiss so hard, so complete with what felt like it couldn’t even be reasoned as less than all of him, because how could less than all feel like this—

Fucking impossible.

And Eddie couldn’t shy away—as Steve kissed him breathless, left him gasping; Eddie couldn’t shy away from the sense that he was being killed and revived all over again, endless and unbreaking, and it was perfection.

Jesus fuck.

And the kicker was that…weeks passed. A whole month, close to another. And if anything changed it was all for the better, for the more and Eddie wasn’t entirely sure what to do with it, if he was entirely honest. He…the bruise healed, y’know? That brand above his heart but—

He didn’t need it anymore. That was the thing. He didn’t need to see.

He was very fucking aware. Every minute of every day. He was…so aware. It could kill him better than those bats, it was so big and so much, and so quick, but with all that, probably because of all that: Eddie’d never felt anything even remotely like what it meant to shake off sleep and have Steve Harrington kiss you to wakefulness, to hold you for the nightmares as much as the news of small victories on the road to recovery: never wavering.

Never leaving.

When Eddie got the go-ahead to continue his rehab outpatient-style, his original conviction that all of this ended at the latest upon discharge was immediately challenged, because Steve had become so much more than he’d started as, but Eddie still worried. Made himself sick over it.

Felt like an indefensible monster as Steve rubbed his back, brought him soup, tended him like Eddie didn’t cause his own suffering, and all for the terror of losing the very man who was there, without question.

Then he signed himself out, and Steve drove him home.

Save that Eddie recognized where they were headed and…he only knew one person in Loch Nora.

“Your uncle’s still in the motel by the plant,” Steve had explained what Eddie already knew but hadn’t put together when Eddie raised an eyebrow in askance, wholly unsure how to process any of this, any of this; unsure how to hope in the face of what he was seeing, held against what he was wishing.

“Government’s being fucking assholes about setting you up with someplace appropriate,” and something in Steve’s tone had made plain that he was not just very clear on what constituted ‘appropriate’, he was probably actively involved somehow in holding the people in question rightly accountable for appropriate, and nothing less.

And Eddie…he did say he didn’t need a mark you could see on his heart, didn’t he.

“You need the room while you get better,” Steve murmured as he killed the engine, and lifted Eddie’s hand to his lips, pressed his mouth on the knuckles, nuzzling a little, eyes closed and Eddie…Eddie didn’t know what to do.

The only saving grace was that he didn’t have a monitor to rat his ass out when his heart started trying to escape orbit—fuck just his ribs, how pedestrian—this time.

They sat in a living room that looked like it was once absolutely pristine and still was, mostly, but up close Eddie could see little snags on the sofa, could feel the texture of the fabric different under his fingers for scrubbing out a stain. He suspected four infamously unmannered teenagers were the culprits. The remaining stiffness of the cushions was good for the way his body was still working through being gnawed apart, but he was gone far enough to kind of immediately hope he’d see how they wore with love and use and maybe something more once they got there, once Eddie’s body cooperated again, because he…Steve brought him home.

And maybe they didn’t have to stop when Eddie left the hospital. Maybe he didn’t have to lose.

He’d only made it shortly past the best fucking grilled cheese he’d maybe ever tasted, and he didn’t think it was only because it was his first meal without an aftertaste of sterile in too fucking long—but he only lasted a little more than an hour before Steve’d helped him to a guest room on the first floor that’d obviously been reworked for him, from the way he could reach the bed from just inside the door, to the fucking posters that he knew for a fact Steve wouldn’t have had on hand, and Eddie’d giggled a little wetly at the Ozzy one, because he figured the man steadying him at his side would never be anything but intertwined with the Prince of Darkness in his mind, now—but Steve, who’d more than proven he was so far beyond any kind of king, won hands down. By a landslide.

And who could have seen that coming?

“Careful,” Steve chided him gently as he guided Eddie slowly down to the mattress and made to tuck him in, and the word was so warm, so warm but Eddie had to…

He had to reach. Again. He needed Steve, he…needed.

The handprint on top of his heart didn’t need to be a thing he could see, but he needed Steve to…know some level of what he was feeling, of how much was inside him already, and growing, the momentum building and he didn’t want to feed it, didn’t want to let it run if he wasn’t going to have someone to catch it, to run with him but he also didn’t think there was any chance to stop it, now, he didn’t think he could trim it back or tame it from consuming him and he wasn’t sure he’d even want to if he actually had the power because it was the best feeling he’d ever known, even if it was terrifying, even if it could hurt him more than anything he’d ever known and—

“I don’t want to be alone,” was what spilled from his lips with Steve’s hand above his heartbeat as it pumped so goddamn hard it couldn’t be denied, it couldn’t be misconstrued, and he didn’t want to sleep alone, didn’t want to lose what he’d rebuilt himself around all these weeks, he—

“Good,” and Steve leaned down, cradled Eddie’s face and tipped him up to kiss him full, hard, one hand still on his chest because that was the mark, the promise, the fight for all that this was and all it could be like a fucking vow and Eddie melted for it on sight, on contact.

“Because I’m not leaving,” and Steve brushed the tip of his nose back and forth against Eddie’s, his smile like honey in his tone as he pecked Eddie on the lips one more time before stretching his hand to follow him across the bed, to crawl to the other side and slide in next to Eddie, to carefully arrange him against Steve’s body, to wrap around him with so much care, to touch nothing too tender and everything safe to hold as Steve tucked his face against Eddie’s neck and kissed behind his ear as he breathed:

“Never gonna leave you all alone again.”

And Eddie believed him.

Eddie believed him.

And when, weeks later when Eddie was hurting less and moving more, perched in the corner of the couch that was starting to give a little under persistent weight, starting to feel like it was meant to be used and lend comfort; as Eddie was poking at campaign notes for the gremlins, pen caught between his teeth, he only paused when he felt the gravity of a familiar gaze settle on him—not immediately, because he liked just existing in it, feeling its heft, but after enough moments to satisfy him he looked up, met those eyes and felt them in his goddamn soul as he asked:

“What?”

And Steve had just kept on staring, the bare hint of a quirk at the corners of his lips spreading to the full sunrise of his smile.

“You fit, here,” and he’d said it so simply, so…much like a truth, a fact of the universe—Eddie Munson fits, belongs in this place, this space, this home, this life—and then the smile dimmed ever so slightly, cloud cover across the shine as Steve shifted a little, crossed his arms loose but still as a barrier over his chest: “if you want to, I mean—”

And Eddie sat up straighter, and he reached both his hands out to Steve because:

“I want to,” it was all he wanted, really; it wasso far beyond his wildest dreams but it was real, Eddie could see and touch it, taste it, feel it through his blood when it pumped, tracking through his whole body, filling up his heart overfull and magnificent and he as just…

“Sweetheart,” he took Steve’s hands and tugged him down to sit next to Eddie, settled him so close; “I’ve never wanted anything as much as I want that.”

He leaned back, wholly prone and never once letting go of Steve’s hands, never once doing anything but keeping them laced together and anchored, locked tight and Steve matched him, followed him as Eddie drew him to his healed-enough chest to settle right at the center, to hear Eddie’s heartbeat for the declaration it was, it already was in its entirety:

“You fit here.”

And he did. They both did. Their worlds had shifted, grew around the shapes they made together and after not-long-at-all, they fit so fucking well that it was bespoke to their cells, they’d never fit anyone else. It was quick and it was heady and it was fucking right.

For months

And then it all went to shit.

Because Steve decided what should have been expected, honestly—that Eddie wasn’t worth the hassle, that he wasn’t right for Steve, that Steve’s staggeringly-expansive capacity for love was wasted to hell on this low-life dipshit who couldn’t even graduate on his third try at high school, who maybe didn’t have a murder charge anymore in the legal system but would never wash it clean from the court of public opinion, who was…trouble. Always trouble.

Not fucking worth it.

It’s just…Eddie never thought Steve would stop wanting him. He maybe went in reticent at first, but Steve had loved so hard out the gate that as soon as he knew he was allowed, and welcome? Eddie didn’t hesitate to meet that love beat for beat.

He just never imagined his love would ever be unwelcome; that that's how his heart would break.

What breaks in the moment, though—the heartbreak is constant, and unfortunately proving to be kinda fucking unending, really—but what breaks now is…possibly the handle on the front door for the way someone’s banging and jiggling it back and forth like the first time it didn’t give against the lock was just a fluke.

He frowns, considers waiting out whoever’s enough of a dick to knock like that but apparently not so witch-hunty to throw a brick through the window—which: Eddie will take progress, he guesses—but when a concerning creak sounds from near the hinges, Eddie thinks of Wayne, and how his uncle doesn’t deserve a broken front door, so.

Heartbroken or not, Eddie has to drag himself to deal with…this.

Then he’s throwing the door open and…this is—

“We need to talk.”

This should have been expected. There’s really only one little asshole who’d assault his door with that much…determination.

“Henderson—” Eddie huffs, because he knows he needs to set a date for them all to get together, he left the campaign they were in kinda dangling on a thread when he didn’t hold the gatherings at St—

Well, when their regularly scheduled venue became too much for Eddie’s heart to handle.

Which: okay, fine, he gets it but like, he can’t care as much as he maybe should when he feels like this, and the kids need to fucking take a chill pill and if they can’t understand, then at least they can just shut the fuck up for at a couple more weeks while Eddie licks his wounds and sees if they decide to finally scab over enough that he doesn’t keep with busting them back open every time he breathes—

“About Steve.”

Eddie’s heart shudders just to hear the name. He’s avoided hearing it for weeks, now; it hurts too much.

He hears it enough in his own head, in his dreams, in his nightmares when he see the worst, in the cadence of his fucking pulse because his heart doesn’t know how not to be Steve’s, kinda feels like it’s not interested in learning, will never be anything other than what it is now, forever, and—

“We need to talk about what you did to Steve.”

Wait.

Wait, what he did to—

What?

❄️

>>> part ii

for @kultiras🖤

✨permanent tag list: OPEN (lmk if you want to be added/removed): @pearynice @hbyrde36 @slashify @finntheehumaneater @wxrmland @dreamwatch @perseus-notjackson @estrellami-1 @bookworm0690 @imhereforthelolzdontyellatme @nerdyglassescheeseychick @swimmingbirdrunningrock @goodolefashionedloverboi @sanctumdemunson @theheadlessphilosopher @sadisticaltarts @bumblebeecuttlefishes @shrimply-a-menace @wheneverfeasible @1-tehe-1 @themoonagainstmers @dreamercec @ravenfrog @live-laugh-love-dietrich @stealthysteveharrington @tinyplanet95 @theohohmoment @samsoble @tinyloonyteacups @askitwithflours @awkwardgravity1 @pretend-theres-a-name-here @dragoon-ze-great

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[theartofwoompwoomp]

Oh scrap pt.2

Soundwave x human reader

Summary: the decepticons start talking about who’s the hottest one, and agree that an alien could break the tie (aka reader) and without a hesitation they say soundwave, not knowing this guy can hear everything lol

Pt.1   Pt.2

———————————————————————

You had forgotten about the whole ordeal. As we mentioned, chaotic things happened all the time.

So you really didn’t think much of it. Not until you started noticing something different.

Now, you are aware of your crush on Soundwave, and usually that’s not a bother since you rarely think of it. Just keeping those emotions on the down low.

However you have realized a difference in your schedule. You’ve been assigned with your crush and his cassettes far more often than normal. 

Not that you mind at all, more opportunities to appreciate your crush. 

And you wouldn’t have been worried, if it weren’t for the change of actions in the bot.

He’s always so calm and steady at his work. But recently you’ve noticed that whenever you’re around he always tenses and soon leaves the room. 

It’s a little sad, I mean, you’re not exactly sure what you did to upset him. And anytime you get near he twitches a bit before giving you his back and leaving. 

Having no human bestie around you went to next thing you had that resembled that on the nemesis.

You entered Knockout quarters, making sure to catch his attention.

“hey, um, I know you’re busy, but can we talk a bit?”

He saw the stress on your face and didn’t deny you your request. After all everyone needs to vent from time to time.

“Well doll maybe he’s acting that way cause he heard your confession the other day.”

Wipping your head towards him with eyes far too open your confused panic showing through your voice. “What the hell are you talking about. I never confessed not even in front of others.”

He vents a bit leaning down closer to you, “so you seriously don’t remember the day you publicly confessed you want Soundwave.”

Your face blooming with warmth you quickly hush him as you remember what he’s referring to, “ugh i had forgotten about that, …do you think someone told him?”

“Oh doll, I doubt he isn’t aware of the situation.” You bury yourself as far as you can in your arms. Worrying for his true feelings towards you.

It’s interesting to him how every time you don’t want him to know something, your own emotions betray you and become so loud it’s impossible to ignore.

Normally he’d be drained from all the baggage your little brain seems to carry. But recently he’s come to realize that he’s become addicted to your love. 

He can feel what you feel for him.

And anytime you were nearby these feelings of your were stronger. At first it didn’t affect him, but the longer he got attached the harder it was to hold back. 

Slowly but surely, he was falling in love with you. <3

———————————————————————

Masterlist 

previous

[vanillarosekiss]

Hi lovie! May i request something? Can you write angst to comfort with simon or john? Love me some ex to lover or just like another chance romance where the boys are grovelling teehee

Of course I can, angel!♡ I hope you like this, I'm so sorry that it's late. I really wanted to make it more angsty at the beginning and sweet at the end so enjoy.

What Remains ₊˚⊹♡

Warnings: angsty, simon being a bit of a prick tbh, fluff at the end.

The dreaded knock came late—sharp and deliberate, breaking the silence of your small apartment. You weren’t expecting anyone at this time, but the minute you opened the door and saw him standing there, everything froze.

Simon.

He looked the same, but so different. The mask was gone, but his darkening aura stayed the same. He didn’t say anything; he stared at you like he wasn’t sure you’d let him speak.

“What do you want?” you said, voice harsher than you expected.

“I came to talk,” he muttered, his voice low, almost hesitant, “To apologise.”

You let out a harsh laugh and crossed your arms.

“Talk? Now? After you walked out of my life without a word? Months, Simon. Months. And now you want to talk?”

“I know,” he said quickly, his tone defensive, as if bracing for impact.

“I know I fucked up.”

“Fucked up?” You stepped back, gesturing wildly, “No, Simon. You didn’t just ‘fuck up.’ You destroyed me. Do you even get that?”

He winced, his lips pressing into a hard line. “I left to keep you safe. I didn’t have a choice.”

“Oh, don’t give me that bullshit,” you snapped. “You always have a choice. You just didn’t want to deal with me, so you made the easiest one. Don’t pretend you did it for me.”

His head snapped up at that, and for the first time, you saw something crack in him.

“You think it was easy? Leaving you? That it didn’t tear me apart every time i thought about it?”

“Sure looked easy from where I was standing,” you fired back. You knew it wasn’t like that, but you had lost it with him now.

“I was trying to protect you,” he said, voice harder now, colder. It was like he went back to who he was in the field, merciless and cruel.

“Do you have any idea the kind of shit that follows me? The kind of danger I drag around? I left because I didn’t want you caught in the crossfire. You know I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if anything happened to you.”

“Protect me?” You let out a bitter laugh. “That’s rich, Simon. Did you ever stop to think about how it felt on my end? Not knowing if you were dead, alive, or just done with me? You didn’t protect me. You abandoned me.”

That word hit him like a slap. His jaw clenched, and something in his expression shifted, turning darker. “You think I wanted to do that? That it didn’t fucking kill me to walk away? I was trying to do the right thing.”

“Yeah, well, you failed,” you shot back. “Congratulations. All you did was prove I meant nothing to you.”

He let out a sharp, bitter laugh. “You think you meant nothing? Christ, I couldn’t stop thinking about you. I thought about you every fucking day. Do you know how many times I wanted to pick up the phone? To come back? But I couldn’t.”

“Why? Why couldn’t you?” you demanded, your voice breaking. You didn’t want to get emotional with him but you couldn’t help it.

“What stopped you? What could possibly be worse than what you did to me?”

Simon’s voice dropped, “Because I was scared, alright? Scared I’d lose you for good. Scared you’d get hurt because of me.”

You stared at him, the weight of his words hitting you like a tidal wave. For a small moment, neither of you said anything, just stood there in the wreckage of everything unsaid.

“You broke me, Simon. You left me with nothing. And now you just show up, expecting me to forgive you?”

“I don’t expect your forgiveness,” he said, his tone softer now, the fight draining out of him. “I just… I couldn’t stay away anymore. I had to try. Even if you want to slam the door in my face, I’ll take it, but I needed you to know I’m sorry. For all of it.”

You felt your resolve cracking, the anger giving way to something else—something just as painful.

“You don’t get to do this to me,” you whispered. “You don’t get to come back like this and try to undo everything I’ve been through.”

“I know,” he said gently. “But I can’t let you go without a fight. Just because I left doesn’t mean I don’t love you anymore.”

Your arms hung limp at your sides, the weight of his words crushing you. You couldn’t tell if you were angry at him or just upset.

“I know I’ve been a prick, baby, trust me I know. And I hate myself for ever doing this to you. I wasn’t thinking properly. Fuck, I just- ”. He sighed and rubbed his eyes.

He looked… lost? Like he didn’t know how to fix this, and it tugged at something deep inside you, even through the anger.

“Simon,” you said quietly, your voice softer now.

His hand dropped, and he looked at you, the raw emotion in his eyes catching you off guard. “I’ll spend the rest of my life making this up to you if you let me,” he whispered. “I just want you back. Please.”

The sincerity in his voice broke you, and you couldn’t even get a moment to second-guess yourself.

“One chance, Simon. That’s all you’re getting.”

Guys i fear this is one of the best things i’ve written (my favourite). And it’s actually proof-read because i could be asked to get the grammar correct!! So proud. Thank you anon for this lovely, lovely request `౨ৎ~

Tag list: @soapisgod @slut-lmao @sebastianstans-slut @ilikeoldmen @g1rlfa1lure0 @queenoflaflames @tmartin0918 @kkloubee @goldie-221 @patricksoulmate @writingandsins @mxnee777 @caro-line19  @decaffeinateddelusionbread @poohkie90 @senoritaleeda @xoxoxoaspen @i-ship-stony-and-superfamily @simonrileysdarling @angelica456

Please lmk if you’d like to be removed or added to the tag list, I won’t take any offence!

[kenziebluex]

The Broken Heart That Makes Us

We are back!!! (updates will be every Friday in January 😊) Hope everyone had a great finals week and happy holiday!

Story Description: 

Your arranged marriage is on its last legs. After making an agreement with your step son, Megumi, you are puzzled when you are faced with finally making a decision.

Your whole life so far has been planned for you, leading you to struggle with the idea of moving on and finding something stable…someone stable.  

Will you finally be able to let go of the life that was made for you? Will there be others out there willing to pick up the pieces?

(18+) Pairings: Toji, Goji, Geto, Nanami, & Choso.

Read on ao3: TBHTMU

Chapter 2:

You weren’t surprised when the morning after Toji was nowhere to be found. He even packed up most of his stuff this time. What wasn’t even more surprising was that he didn’t show up for his son's martial arts tournament that was 2 days later. 

You knew how important this tournament was for Megumi since it was the last tournament before he would advance up a level in his class. If he won this match he would advance a color.

So when he walked out on stage and scanned the crowd for you. You made sure you were front and center not wanting him to feel alone. His face lit up as he noticed you in the crowd wanting to wave even though you knew he wouldn’t out of fear of embarrassment. Megumi continued scanning the crowd even though you hoped he wouldn’t. 

As much as he puts on a strong face you knew one thing that he had that you regretfully had a few days ago too.

Hope.

It all happened at once you watched as a wave of realization hit him. He looked back at you for a moment and you could see a tear slowly falling down his face. You felt sick to your stomach knowing that he was hurting. Megumi seemed to realize where he was and let out a laugh to distract himself. Getting back into his starting stance. He was going to do what he always does and channel his emotions into the fight.

You can just imagine what happened next. 

Megumi won the match 3-0. 

✿❀○❀✿

Practically running backstage after the match you barely manage to not trip over your own feet. You usually waited after the match in the front with the other parents but you needed to see him. You just felt an intense urge to tell him how proud of him you were. 

“Meg,..megumi” calling out softly in the crowd of people backstage you were met with a voice you didn’t recognize.

“Megumi’s over here.” said a man you weren’t familiar with. Megumi was sitting on a chair in the far corner of the room. You didn’t need to see his face to know by his body language he was frustrated and crying.

You couldn’t help yourself but to crouch down and hug him ignoring the people that were near him once you got to him. Surprisingly you were met with a tight hug back as he silently sobbed into your shoulder. Megumi usually doesn’t like public affection but you figured this was his one exception. 

“I’m so sorry Meg, but I'm so proud of you” you whispered next to his head, not wanting to draw more attention to him. Continuing to hold him and assuring him everything is okay you finally look up at the man that was standing in front of you as if he was blocking the view so you two could have some privacy. 

The back of the man had your eyes almost popping out the back of your head. The man was wearing a tight black compression shirt that made sure to emphasize the muscles on his shoulder and back. You could almost see the outlines of his veins and the back of the shirt left little to the imagination. He had to be a security guard. 

“Excuse me” you say softly because you didn't want to alarm Megumi. He didn’t seem to hear what you said which you figured would be the case. It was very loud backstage with the people and the wrap up music playing. Reaching out to touch his arm you hesitated causing you to jerk back.

The sudden movement seemed to have got his attention. He turned around and you wished he hadn't. 

“My god.” your eyes instantly locked on to his abs. You were right earlier at this point he might as well just not have worn a shirt. His abs were hugging the shirt and you could have sworn you could see his nipples if you looked hard enough. You could tell this man worked out daily. 

His white hair was pushed back and don’t get me started on his beautiful blue eyes. They seemed to sparkle even though the lighting wasn’t shining directly on him. He looked like a delicate painting that would be hung on the wall in an art museum. You were sure you could write a poem about how handsome- 

“SORRY” you say in a horrified whisper when you realize you have spent the last minute staring at his body. 

“You can stare all you want.” the man said with a smirk before bending down to the level me and Megumi were on. He was even more intimidating up close. 

“You guys okay? I saw him crying and led him over here for some privacy. I know these matches can be quite intense.” he sounded different from the joking tone he just displayed a second before. His voice was filled with genuine concern. 

“We are okay sorry for worrying you Sensei.” Megumi said, removing his head from my arm while slowly standing up. Sensei? I have never seen him before. I would have remembered meeting him. I stood up to not wanting to be kneeling on the hard floor any longer. 

It was a brief awkward silence as we all stood up not sure which one of us was going to talk first. I could barely look at the man in front of me, still embarrassed from my actions earlier.

“Mom this is Sensei Satoru Gojo, he’s a Sensei for the upper class students. He offered me a spot in his class.” Megumi said, breaking the silence. I turned to Megumi in disbelief, usually he asks permission before accepting after school classes. 

"We will talk about it at home Megumi." you said trying to put a positive smile on your face. You were met with a smile back and knew you would give in.

✿❀○❀✿ - (big jump skip, present time)

It’s been two years since you’ve been  rebuilding your life after divorcing Toji. To be honest, life became…somewhat peaceful. But it would be a lie if you said that overcoming everything was easy. The marriage was arranged to benefit your father so you thought divorcing had a heavy price to pay.

 Time passed and marriage to Toji was no longer needed for the firm’s success, making it just another fruitless expense. You still can’t believe that your dad uprooted your life based on a whim  just for you to go through hell and in the end, everything fell apart. But, you couldn’t complain much. After all, Megumi was all yours and you wouldn’t have it any other way. 

You figured that finally getting into a steady beat while taking care of Megumi was going to be a breeze. (Since that was something you were doing anyway.) And you know that he is not the type to complain much about anything. However, a guilty reminder racked your brain. 

Megumi needed someone to look up to. Up until now, you have always been the safety net to Toji’s broken promises and a part of you feels ashamed for separating him from his father. You concluded that enrolling him into Gojo-sensei’s martial arts classes was a good sign since it was the first time he truly asked for something from you. So, you gave Megumi all the support he needed to succeed and that’s why you’re parked outside of the dojo 20 minutes early before his class ends, right?

You eyed the rearview mirror while making final touches on your lashes with your mascara until you heard a blaring car horn. Shocked out of your focus, the mascara skidded leaving a dazzling black streak under your eye. Your head snapped outside the driver’s seat window of your blue Chevrolet Equinox.

“What the hell? They’re early!” The panic fell from your lips as you worked double time trying to tidy up the mess under your eye and fumbled through your purse to prepare to go inside. The other students filed out of the dojo and into their parents' cars while you had to prepare for a ‘fun parent-teacher conference’ as Gojo had stated. 

You exited your car, with your shoulder bag in tow and entered the dojo with a million thoughts running through your head.

‘Why a conference? Is Meg finally going through his rebellious phase?’ 

A thoughtless sigh escaped your lips as you discarded your heels to step up to the tatami mat of the cleared out dojo where only two people remained. 

 As soon as you passed through the double doors, brilliant clear quartz blue eyes pinned you in place. Phantom white hair slicked back from the sweat of a rigorous practice. The wet of his forehead trickled down into the scandalously opened chest of his white Gi that no doubt explored down the rest of his well-toned body. 

“Mama Megumi has such shameless eyes.” Serpent like words hummed from a deep bassy voice. You blinked twice as your gaze focused on the playful grin that tugged the lips of the tall mischievous man. He allowed the collar of his Gi to fall slightly, parading more of his wickedly muscled peck. Your lips tightened at his obvious teasing. 

You ignored his taunt and shifted your gaze to Megumi, who wore a similar Gi but a color belt of a few ranks below. 

“Meg, is everything ok?” You asked, fully focusing on your son whose typical spiky black hair laid flat from his work out. 

Megumi’s eyes shifted back and forth between you to Gojo, lightly acknowledging the banter.

 It was always a game between you two. He’d flirt, you’d ignore. You tease and he bites back. It was a battle of wits everytime you two met which is precisely why you wouldn’t play his game today. Megumi’s wellbeing always came before whatever shallow flirting you had going on.

“Yeah mom. I-.” Megumi began.

“Megumi is doing just fine.” Gojo interrupted as he swung a lazy arm over Megumi’s shoulders. Your eyebrows scrunched in confusion.

“I don’t get it then. Why did we need a conference?” Your arms slumped as you felt the rush of worry escape your body. All that was left was confusion. Gojo had whispered something to him and after a formal bow, Megumi departed to go gather his belongings. 

Gojo leisurely planted his hands on his hips and gilded himself towards you, leaving only a forearm’s length in between. His towering figure overshadowed your frame as the heat of his gaze spoke a thousand words. 

“I think we are past the stage of stick-up-your-ass formalities.” Gojo purred. Playfulness showered his lips while his eyes left a danger to be desired. 

“I don’t have time for games when it involves my son, sensei.” You answered firmly. He raised a hand and used his thumb to brush under your eye. You assumed he was cleaning up the aftermath of your mascara but heat remained as his thumb caressed your cheek. 

You gently slapped his hand away and it fell to his side. You shot him a glare warning him to stop wasting your time. He smirked, humored at your fiery response.

“I just wanted to do a follow up for the letter I sent you through the mail.” He confessed.  Your head fell to the side and your eyes trekked downwards in deep thought. You don’t remember receiving any mail recently from him but then again…

“Ah-. I changed my address.” You raised your head too quickly not knowing Gojo hovered low enough where his nose barely brushed yours. You took in a gasp. 

Gojo studied your face and his peering blue eyes paused at your lips. You subconsciously wetted them with your tongue and you watched his breath hitch. His eyes then fell to your chest that teasingly left the first two buttons open of your blazer. 

“This is our new address! We fully moved in about a year ago.” You broke the tension. Your body turned to fumble through your purse looking for a small piece of paper and a pen. You settled for an old restaurant business card and began to write your address on the back. 

With his index and middle finger, Gojo swiftly swiped the card from your hands. He exchanged looks with the card and your face and then looked back at the card and flipped it over. He snorted a laugh and covered his mouth to contain it. 

“What?” You shrugged trying to take a peek at the card to see if you spelled something wrong. 

He flipped the card up to your face.

“Coupon for Chuck N Cheese’s?! Are you 6?!” He threw his head back and boomed in laughter. You shoved his shoulder and attempted to swipe the business card back. He was faster than you and raised the card in the air to force you to jump for it.

“Give it back, dickcheese.” You leaped again and attempted to take the card back. Gojo’s wicked smile only grew while he watched your embarrassed reaction. 

“Ha! And I’m the childish one?!” You huffed.

You felt a hand curl around your back and he pulled your chest against his. The force sent you both tumbling with Gojo breaking your fall. 

Your eyes grew wide as your chest pressed plush against his and his long legs straddling the sides of you. You tried not to focus on something rock solid that bullied its way against your pelvis. You felt his hand on your back slowly rub up and down, teasing the top of your ass. 

He took another glance at the card with your address written on it.

“Got it. I’ll swing by tomorrow at 8. Dress nicely.” He ordered and you pushed yourself up to meet him face to face. 

“What game are you playing?” You whispered looking for deception in his gaze. His head fell back on the mat and he gazed up at you under hooded eyes. His hand stopped just before the curve of your ass. He parted his lips as he was about to answer.

“Oi, pervert!” A bellow emerged from the changing room and you quickly scrambled to your knees and Gojo sat up after you. Megumi’s face was twisted in disgust directed at Gojo. 

Before another word was uttered, Megumi marched over to you and pulled you up by the wrist. He stood in front of you protectively. However, Gojo was completely unphased.

“Oh! That reminds me. I wanted to recommend Megumi to extra practices. I think he could train for a higher belt before the end of the year.” Gojo explained nonchalantly. He perched up his knee and rested his elbow on it while flicking the card back and forth in between his fingers. 

You rubbed the temples of your forehead.

‘This could have been a fucking email.’ You groaned internally. 

“Of course…I do need a parent’s approval. It means that he’s going to be training more during the week and I wanted to make sure that was ok with you.” Gojo rose up to his feet. You were taken aback at how reasonable his explanation was. Watching Gojo flirt back and forth from playful to serious was kind of sexy in a way.

His gaze turned soft as he eyed Megumi knowingly.

“I want to see him succeed.” Gojo confessed. You noticed the flicker of sincerity in his tone. 

Keeping up with Megumi’s practices was hellish already. Although moving gave you the distance you needed and the living space Megumi deserved, traveling was brutal. His shoulders slumped. He knew this too. But if jujutsu martial arts was something he wanted to do, distance be damned!

“I think we can spare a few extra days. Right Meg?” You placed two hands on his shoulders and he turned his back to face you in disbelief. Then, the pinch of hope you briefly saw in his eyes disappeared in an instant.

“But you’ve been pushing yourself. There are no buses near our house and you have to drive me to school everyday and then from school to practice. I don’t want to be a burden again…” The last part of his sentence trailed off almost like a silent apology. He almost struggled to look you in the eye. Being a burden was the last thing you wanted Megumi to think. Especially after it took years to heal the wounds his father left that made him have those thoughts.

“Erm! *cough* I’ll take Meggy home if he’ll need a ride.” Gojo suggested. Both you and Megumi snapped your heads towards him. Megumi pondered the suggestion.

“This just gives me more reasons to camp out at your doorstep.” He continued and once again wore a mischievous grin. You clicked your tongue and rolled your eyes.

“Stalker.” You uttered while guiding Megumi to the exit. 

“Remember! 8 O’Clock on the Dot! Okay??? Do you hear me?!! Hey!!! Hey helloooo!!!” You heard Gojo holler from behind you as you and Megumi exited the dojo. You displayed a pretty little middle finger to Gojo without sparing him a glance. 

“Mom, don't associate with him. He’s ill.” 

“Yeah…I know.”

tag: @beetusbritt❤ @nousija divider by @cafekitsune art credit 1: ig: arekushisu (commission do not use) art credit 2: twitter: ayushnz_ ❀follow for more ❀ ao3: kenzieblue❀ -kenzie & des

[dissapointu]

Smoke and Mischief

The dim lighting of the room cast long shadows on the walls as you leaned back in the chair, cigarette in hand, eyes half-lidded with the relaxed calm that only came after a long day of tension and work. The haze of smoke hung lazily in the air, mixing with the sharp scent of burnt tobacco. Ran sat across the room, arms crossed, eyes fixed on you, their usual stoic expression never faltering.

But then, without warning, you blew a thick cloud of smoke directly into their face. The action was playful, mischievous—a challenge.

Ran’s eyes narrowed immediately. Their sharp features twisted slightly in surprise as the smoke billowed, swirling around them in a thick, gray mist. They sputtered for a moment, the suddenness of it catching them off guard. For a heartbeat, you thought you saw them actually struggle to clear the air, but then—like magic—it was gone, and all that was left was a chuckle. A sound you’d only ever hear from them when they weren’t entirely irritated, which was rare.

“You brat,” they muttered, their voice a low, gravelly mixture of affectionate irritation and amusement, the hint of a smile tugging at the corner of their lips. It wasn’t much—just a small, teasing grin—but it was enough to make you pause. Ran wasn’t a person who expressed emotion easily. They rarely ever showed their softer side, preferring to keep their thoughts—and their emotions—guarded. But in moments like these, they let down their defenses. Just a little.

You grinned, leaning back in the chair further as you took another drag. The smoke curled up, drifting in the air above you, but Ran wasn’t done with you yet.

Before you could react, Ran’s hand shot out, their fingers closing around your ankle with surprising precision. You barely had time to process it before their grip tightened, pulling you effortlessly from the chair and dragging you toward them.

“Come here, you little shit,” they growled under their breath, their voice low but playful, filled with a mixture of fondness and mischief. Their other hand shot out to catch the back of your neck, guiding your fall as you stumbled forward, pulled down onto the bed beside them.

You landed with a soft thud, your body pressing against the cool, soft sheets. For a moment, you were stunned—caught off guard by the suddenness of it all. But you didn’t stay down for long.

You pushed yourself up onto your elbows, shooting Ran a teasing grin. “What, you can’t handle a little smoke?”

Ran didn’t immediately respond. Instead, they leaned back against the bed’s headboard, their fingers still wrapped around your ankle, keeping you close. Their expression was unreadable, but the amusement in their eyes was unmistakable.

“You’re lucky you’re cute,” Ran muttered, their voice softer now, the teasing edge gone as they studied you with a mixture of affection and something else you couldn’t quite place.

You raised an eyebrow, rolling your eyes playfully. “Cute, huh? I think that’s the nicest thing you’ve said to me all day.”

Ran’s eyes flickered over you, their gaze moving with a quiet intensity. “Don’t get used to it.” They smirked again, a small, knowing smile that sent a thrill through you.

With one quick motion, Ran pulled you further onto the bed, their hand never leaving your ankle. You were now lying beside them, close enough that you could feel the warmth of their body against yours. Their sharp eyes were still locked onto you, studying you with a quiet kind of focus that made your heart race a little faster.

“Did you think you could get away with that?” Ran’s voice was low, just above a whisper, and there was something in it—something playful and dangerous—that made your pulse quicken.

“I wasn’t trying to get away with anything,” you replied, though your voice had a slight tremor to it, betraying the thrill of being this close to them. You could feel the tension building between you, thick and electric, like the calm before a storm.

Ran’s gaze softened, but only just. They leaned closer, their breath warm against your cheek as they spoke, their voice just above a whisper. “You’ve got a lot of nerve, you know that?”

You swallowed, heart hammering in your chest as you met their gaze. “Is that a problem?”

For a brief moment, neither of you moved. The air between you was thick with tension—tension that had been building for days, weeks, maybe longer, both of you trying to ignore it, pretend it wasn’t there. But it was undeniable now, hanging in the air like smoke.

Ran’s fingers slid down from your ankle, tracing along your calf slowly, deliberately, as if to remind you that they were still in control. You shivered at the touch, and you couldn’t help but notice the way their eyes darkened in response.

“You’re pushing your luck,” Ran murmured, their voice husky and laced with something you couldn’t quite place—something dangerous and intoxicating.

You could feel the air around you growing heavier, suffocating in the best way possible. You swallowed again, feeling your pulse speed up as they leaned closer still, their lips just a breath away from yours.

“I like pushing limits,” you said, your voice barely a whisper. The words hung between you, daring them to respond, daring them to act on the tension that had been simmering beneath the surface for so long.

Ran’s eyes flickered between your lips and your eyes, their expression unreadable. But then they chuckled, a low, dark sound that made your heart skip a beat.

“You’re lucky I don’t throw you out of here right now,” they said, their voice low and steady. “But I think you’ve earned a little more time, just this once.”

Before you could say anything, Ran’s lips were on yours, firm and demanding, as if they’d finally given in to the pull between you. The kiss was everything—everything you’d both been holding back, everything unspoken, a collision of desire and something deeper, more complicated.

Ran’s hands were everywhere now, pulling you closer, urging you to stay with them in this moment. They were more than just the sharp, calculating strategist you had come to know. In this space, this quiet room filled with the remnants of smoke, they were something else entirely. Something more vulnerable, more raw, and infinitely more dangerous.

When the kiss finally broke, you were both breathing heavily, your heart racing. Ran’s eyes were dark, still holding that spark of mischief, but there was something more—something real—in their gaze now.

“You’re lucky,” they repeated, but the words held a different meaning now, softer, less teasing. “Very lucky.”

You smiled, your fingers tracing lightly across their chest. “I’m not the only one.”

Ran just smirked, a small, quiet chuckle escaping their lips. “We’ll see about that.”

And as the smoke lingered in the air around you, both of you knew this was just the beginning of something far more complicated.

[itheunknown]

odi et amo - (01) all i had

negelected! meta! reader x platonic! batfam

masterlist / prev / next

(TW) : emotional neglect, self-destructive behaviour, self-harm, suicide, depression, unhealthy coping mechanisms, underage smoking, underage drinking, alcohol abuse, depression, bpd, depictions of mental illness, violence, trauma, ...

the wind was howling.

your bag felt heavy on your shoulders as you brisked through the night, flickering street lights as your only source of light. your phone died a while back, but it's fine since you knew every nook and cranny of the route from your workplace back to your aunt's apartment. 

you've had a pretty shitty day so far: customers yelling in your face about things out of your control, your bicycle getting stolen (again) rendering you having to travel back on foot, and on top of that, you have exams coming up this week.

all you could let out was a tired sigh while trying to revise the material under your breath.

just as you're about to turn the knob of the apartment door, looking forward to finally getting some sleep before having to drag yourself to school that starts in a few hours, the door swings open violently and you stumble back, startled. the sight of your aunt gripping the door while holding a broken bottle greets you as she stands there with an unsettling and wild look in her eyes, her tone final.

“get in the car, now.”

sitting in gotham’s police department with the background noise feels distant, everything is incoherent, too much noise, too much light, just too much.

you feel hollow.

can’t wrap your head around the series of events that had just occurred, alternating between gnawing your lips and picking your fingers, the chatter zoned in and out as you just sat there, not knowing what was to come.

you don’t know how long you've sat there while the police were making phone calls and running through their data records of you after taking multiple different samples 2 days ago in order to decide where they should toss you to next. you’ve been placed under watch just so they could make sure there were no complications from the injuries you sustained, practically living in the station. it wasn’t that bad, the GCPD was well-insulated, safe, and you’re given food to eat for free (not that you can taste anything). it’s much better than being left to fend for yourself in the streets.

you know you should be planning on what to do next, but yout brain feels like tv static, nothing making sense. you had worked so hard despite the circumstances you were in, tried to make the best out of the shitty cards dealt. you weren’t happy, but you were in control, you had a plan. work hard, save up, get a degree and move the fuck out of this godforsaken city. star tover.

staring at the ground, a pair of shoes enters your vision.

“your labs came back, we got your DNA results.”

this was not what you had in mind.

you’ve never been in a car this luxurious before. the man who introduced himself as alfred, the wayne’s family butler, your father's butler, was seated in the front driving to your supposed new home. you stare outside, gaze unfocused, arms cradling your backpack close to your chest - your entire life in it: your school supplies and a few other personal items, while the rest remains at your aunt’s apartment - that is currently taped off by police and under investigation. eyes trained on the passing view outside, you feel bad for alfred who’s tried to strike up conversation to get to know you, but you couldn't find it in yourself to elaborate on your short responses. you hope he doesn’t take it too personally.

before you knew it, the car rolled to a stop outside the wayne manor. grabbing your bag, you trail behind the butler, the feeling of dread suddenly consumes your entire being.

“i do apologize for the absence of master bruce, young miss. i’m certain if he weren’t caught up with this current case, you would've received a personal welcome from your father himself", he gave you an apologetic smile.

you nodded in response, not really processing his words despite the tiny feeling of disappointment felt as you step foot into the grand yet empty manor. your presence a stark contrast to the room you've entered.

however, you do look forward to seeing your new family: your father and siblings that alfred mentioned in brief, insisting for you to get to know them yourself while singing them high praises.

maybe this was the start over you needed. maybe you'll finally know what it's like to be loved.

you should've known then.

expectations only lead to disappointment.

you're tired, so very tired.

you're done.

nothing feels worth it anymore.

you don't have it in you to continue.

feet dangling off the crumbling abandoned building, you feel oddly at peace. everything is quiet. everything feels right, no responsibilities, no burdens, no more. you've decided.

for once in your life, you feel assured, this is the most optimal solution.

for once in your life, you're looking forward to something.

death must be so peaceful, lay buried within the earth, surrounded by silence. no yesterday, no today, no tomorrow. forget time, forgive life.

you'd be no more.

the wind is howling.

you stand up, staring down the steep drop. standing tall, unafraid, certain.

everything was quiet.

you're ready.

you shuffle closer to the edge, one foot hovering off as you will your other foot to do the same, fighting against your body's survival instinct. you're finally doing something for yourself.

"that's a big drop."

you stumble forward in surprise, nearly falling off until a hand grabs the back of your shirt, pulling you back further from the edge. you're stunned speechless, turning to see the source of the whistling voice.

"that's pretty ballsy of you, kid, i gotta admit."

this is embarrassing.

still unable to form any response, you let out a strangled noise in return as he let go of your shirt.

why the hell is one of gotham’s vigilante here.

an uncomfortable silence ensues, you don't know what to say, occasionally glancing up at the masked vigilante while you shifted your weight from one foot to another, feeling awkward.

just as you're about to try and weasel your way out of the situation, he beats you to it.

"nice spot! how'd you even get in?"

he asks casually while stretching and looking around. you don't know what to say.

"it's a still a weekday tomorrow , don't you have school? your parents must be worried you're out here."

your aunt is still waiting for you to return with your half of the pay for the rent. you have an assignment due tomorrow that's worth 10% of your final grade. there's nothing to look forward to.

"...i guess?"

you're uncertain, not knowing whether he genuinely didn't understand the implications of your actions or trying to lighten the severity of the situation.

he's uncertain.

he doesn't know how to approach this. he's never had to deal with this before.

you can tell by the strained smile and tensed posture that he also doesn't know what to do. somehow, you appreciate it. the situation is somewhat amusing now that you think about it. one of gotham's most dedicated vigilante standing in an abandoned building trying his best to stop a nobody from ending their insignificant life.

you almost let out a chuckle.

the vigilante bends down to pick up your discarded bag that was tossed to the side, handing it to you. you mumble your thanks, grabbing it and swinging it over your shoulders.

hesitantly, he places his hand on your much smaller frame. his voice warm and soft.

"go home. i'm sure someone is waiting for you."

you've waited for a year.

surrounded by the four walls of your assigned bedroom in the more cold, desolated part in the manor. you didn’t really mind, this arrangement was a blessing in disguise as it turned out, or maybe this arrangement was what turned you into the person you’ve become.

you don’t think you’re a great person, but you weren’t bad either, so you don’t understand why no one in the wayne manor would give you their time of day. sure, you were never reduced to begging for life necessities and having to bust your ass off at some sketchy restaurant working under legal age, while also balancing school work - this was objectively a far better environment for a person to live in compared to when you lived with your aunt. 

but was it wrong to want to be noticed by your own family? against your better judgement, you dared to hope.

you hoped to feel the warmth and care of what being tied by blood could grant. you hoped for an embrace, you hoped for company, you hoped for compassion, you hoped for connection. you hope and hope and hope, all you did was hope, until your memory was mostly filled with what you hoped, until you finally understood you were with them yet you were alone.

you had no place in their life.

just like the day you first arrived, bruce wayne, your father, was always busy. a persona to upkeep in the public eye, an enterprise to maintain, and his children to look after, to be a worthy role model.

but not you, never you.

despite alfred’s effort in trying to arrange for you two to get to know each other in the first week, there was never time. you were trying to wrap your head around the drastic changes that happened, from the procedures of transferring  schools, collecting what little belongings you had from the police station after the investigation, and quitting your job. meanwhile, bruce was still busy chasing leads to his case, determined that he was close to solving whatever it was. it took another week for you to stand in front of bruce’s door, wanting to formally introduce yourself and express your gratitude for taking you in, even if he was legally obligated to. when you finally saw him, you dared to hope. standing in front of you was your father, someone who shared your features. you see him, you see yourself. 

you could never forget the look in his eyes.

it was clear he had no idea who your mother was, but it was fine, you didn’t know her either. your desire to get to know him was not returned. was this what having a father is meant to be like? he couldn’t care less about you. all he did was run you through the ground rules of the house, who to go to if you were to request something, to inform him if you needed anything.

you needed him to look at you.

tim drake was the next person you encountered, your slightly older brother. you hoped that with the proximity in age, it would be easier to connect to him. however, it always seemed like he was preoccupied with something more important, he could not even be bothered to pretend to show interest when you had introduced yourself. you felt small, both in the figurative and literal sense. he was undoubtedly intelligent and talented. you’ve seen the way bruce look at him, actually hold a conversation with him. he was deserving, nothing you could measure to. bruce actually looked at him.

why does nobody look at you?

then you ran into jason todd. to your knowledge, he does not primarily reside within the manor anymore, which would explain why you haven’t really seen him around at all. it doesn’t explain why your first encounter with him was assuming a burglar had snuck in through the window at 3 in the morning. you had nearly dropped your cup of coffee, hearing a brief commentary on how there was another caffeine addict in the house before leaving the kitchen with you still holding your breath in shock. you can’t form a solid opinion on him since you barely see him.

in stark contrast, you had met richard grayson, or dick. the ever sweetest and most amazing older brother that any younger sibling would dream to have. you do too, seeing how much of a brother he was to the other members of the house, but not to you. never to you. you’d like to blame him for blindly hoping for things to be different, with his empty promises when he accidentally runs into you while on his search for someone else, and small talk when he’s waiting for something. you catch your father’s appreciative glances towards him sometimes, when dick helps out with managing your siblings.

especially damian al ghul, your half-brother. you were excited to have a younger blood sibling, not that the others were any less important to you, but merely for the delusion that blood could bring you together.

blood meant nothing.

damian was introduced after you were brought in, and his last name was promptly changed into wayne. your encounter was different from the others, him being the only one that sought you out first. again, you had hoped. trying to hide your excitement, you had mistakenly thought he was different from the others, your flesh and blood. 

it’s all the same.

damian had berated your existence, bringing up how you were so unworthy of being a wayne you had yet to receive your father’s last name. you stood there listening to everything he had to say. your flesh and blood.

you admired his strong personality and ability to assert what he wanted. you were complete opposites. it’s no surprise that that’s why he was worthy of the last name.he ended up being the one who had interacted with you the most, even if it was mostly him bullying you. secretly, you held him dear, seeing resemblance between damian and your aunt. he was your flesh and blood.

cassandra cain was yet another sibling you falsely assumed having something in common would bring you two closer. but at this point, you no longer had it in you to put effort in forming a connection with anyone else, worn down by the countless times you’ve been casted aside. 

you remain in the shadows, watching them carry on their daily lives, watched the life you had desperately wanted to be part of but found it impossible. you don’t belong with them, you don’t belong anywhere.

their silence made you feel forgettable.

do you even exist if no one remembers you?

the wind is howling.

and so are the voices.

i don't think im a good story teller since i mostly wrote analytical essays ^^' hopefully it makes sense like who let them (me) cook?? likes and reblogs are appreciated!!

(TAGLIST) lmk if you'd like to be added to the taglist :heh:

@confused-they @hoeinthehouse @heartjwonie @strwberryglass

[baji-sideblog]

Fairytale Yans

A warlock’s beginning

•⑅♡⑅•⑅♡⑅•⑅♡⑅•⑅♡⑅••⑅♡⑅•⑅♡⑅•⑅♡⑅•⑅♡⑅••⑅♡⑅•⑅

Argon Velver was an esteemed warlock known for his innovations in spell crafting and being the founder of transfiguration magic. When his spouse gave birth to their first son Argon knew he wanted him to live up to his legacy to surpass it even. For him he knew the support of his childhood love turned spouse Mercury helped a lot with his journey.

So he decided to give his son a love of his own to help him blossom into a powerful warlock. Casting a spell he looked at his son’s soul to figure out who may be fit for him. After hours of searching he found you a recently born child around his son’s age from a humble family. Argon judged you’d be a good fit for his son a perfect one even.

He knocked on your parents’ door introducing himself and made them a proposition. To let them bound you to his son Mangus so their paths always cross and in exchange he’ll pay them handsomely in gold. Your parents were luckily for him weak to the offer a well respected rich warlock asking to just have their child basically be friends with his. It was too good to pass up especially since with the money they could take care of the family for a long time without worry.

Plus not like he could link you and Mangus as soulmates for magic that strong was out of all warlocks, witches, and wizards’ abilities. To them they figured you still had a way out if the two of you didn’t get along.

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Months later after they took the deal Argon and Mercury appeared at their door holding baby Magnus so he could meet baby you. Magnus instantly clicked and cling to you while you just didn’t do much being a baby.

As the two of you grew up and meet up occasionally you didn’t really care for Mangus his hot temper and bratty personality was not fun to deal with. Especially when you were trying to make friends since Mangus didn’t allow it at all. He showed off his magic to you trying to impress you. He even started learning advanced magic at a young age to get your attention since his usual spells and tricks weren’t working.

No matter what he tried as the years went on you never seem to look his way it hurt him a lot. He became so strong just to get your attention, but quick strength has its downsides. Because of how strong he got so fast out of desperation to impress you he had to get hundreds of tattoos of spell symbols and words into his skin to help control his magic. Since Magnus being a still young warlock at the age of 22 his magic was still very liable to act out due to his emotions.

One day when you two met up in private he started to lash out a bit in anger asking you, begging you to look his way to notice the effort he put in for you. But when you retort how you didn’t like him and how he butted his way into your life kicking out your friends and anyone you reached out to making you lonely. Mangus snapped out of anger and pain blanking out. When he gained back his awareness he realized what he had done, he had cursed you to turn into a swan whenever the sun was up.

At first he was shocked at what he did, but once he calmed down he didn’t feel bad at all. To him it felt like you deserved it for constantly ignoring him. Mangus made things very clear to you as you stood in your swan form for the first time.

“This is what happens when you defy me. Now birdie if you want me to undo the curse you’ll have to marry me if you refuse well I’ll just make you a swan permanently. And I’ll keep you locked up in a little cage alone forever. So be good and make the right choice, I’m tired of being nice to an ungrateful brat.”

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[mejaemin]

best gift ever - lee taeyong

wc: 2.2k

summary: bsf!taeyong gives you the best gift you could ever ask for ‎♡

warnings: fluff, i definitely did not proofread this, doyoung cameo, f2l, taeyong is so cutie so biteable, fem!reader (as always), i tried keeping the holiday vague so if u see any mention of christmas lmk so it can be changed!

an: I LOVE BUBU !!! also as a hispanic person i celebrate early so im posting this on my christmas eve :333 happy holidays everyone !!!

───── ⋆⋅ ⊹ ⁺ 𐔌 ᩧ ຼ ͡ ৯ ♡໒⁀ ᩧຼ ꒱ིྀ ⁺ ⊹ ⋅⋆ ─────

bsf!taeyong who is absolutely smitten.

every time he goes to the store, you get a million notifications of him sending photos of something he finds, asking if you’d like it.

in the cold weather, he’s taken you out for more holiday activities and hot coffee/cocoa trips than he can count on all fingers and toes

he’s always sharing and giving up his warm winter clothes for you when you “forget”

when the snow starts falling in heavy, fluffy flakes and you ask for him to take pictures of you, he can’t help but let you know that you’re the most gorgeous girl he’s ever seen.

is it the cold that’s making his cheeks so pink, or is it something else?

“yongie, look how pretty the park is! can we go take pictures please?” you turn to him, bouncing on your feet excitedly. in the distance, you’re pointing to the park that’s blanketed in so much snow it’s like a winter wonderland.

he follows your finger and nods, allowing you to lead the way. you skip all the way to your photo spot of choice, being a tall pine tree covered in fluffy snowflakes. you hand taeyong your phone before bending down to pick up the snow in your bare hands, posing for the camera. immediately upon hearing the shutter, you switch poses, putting a bit of snow on your head before giving him a heart pose.

taeyong snaps another photo, his cheeks and nose pink as his mouth hangs open slightly. his breath fills the air with soft white clouds, yet he doesn’t feel a thing due to the warmth of his cheeks. pocketing your phone, he puts his gloves over your own hands all while avoiding eye contact.

“you looked so pretty in those pictures.. i think i might have to put them up somewhere!” he tries to sound fully invested in the moment, but as you lead him to another photo spot he’s feeling incredibly pensive, your beauty among the glittering landscape too much to handle.

bsf!yong who finally realizes his feelings might not be normal..

for the longest time, he thought it was just admiration, and was fairly casual about his emotions towards you.

however, after mentioning you for the thousandth time while you weren’t around, the idea of a crush was brought up.

with some serious pondering and a little bit of denial, taeyong realizes that it might be true

thankfully, he’s got a loving friend who will help him come out of such stupidity

“yes, and then after we went to-“

“taeyong.” doyoung cuts him off, holding his hand out to signal him to stop.

immediately he flushes, rubbing his neck. “what..? i wasn’t talking for too long, was i?”

the younger sighs heavily, mouth shaped into a flat line. “you were. you’re seriously embarrassing yourself, yong. you talk more about her than anything else.”

taeyong sinks back into his seat, feeling almost like a child caught in the cookie jar. so what he likes talking about his best friend all the time? he’s proud of their relationship, and thus of course will brag about it often. he thinks about you all day? well, you’re the person he hangs out with and sees the most, of course you’re going to be on his mind a lot. his positive and extremely affectionate attitude towards you is totally normal. very casual.

“so, what? she’s my best friend. anyone who’s a good friend will talk about them with pride.” he mumbles, looking anywhere but at his friend.

“that’s really what you think this is taeyong? you’re sure that this is all platonic admiration? you’re not in love or anything?” doyoung sounds like he’s truly scolding the other, but they both know it’s coming from a place of good nature where he’s really just teasing.

like in the movies, taeyong hears the words ‘in love’ and all of a sudden they’re repeatedly echoing in his mind. visions of him admiring you and hanging out with you wobble and rotate through his mind, and pictures of you smiling at him come into rotation. if he wasn’t already spiraling due to these thoughts, he sure was now.

“if i am in love with her.. how do i know? are you sure this isn’t just normal friend feelings?”

bsf!taeyong who starts plotting the minute he’s sure of his feelings.

it’s literally the day after his conversation with doyoung that he sees you once again

now that the idea of a crush is in his mind, the feeling in his chest upon seeing your face might actually not be normal

after he drops you back home, he heads right out to the store, going gift shopping for you another time, this time for gifts a little more romantic

your day of celebration is in two days, so he’s got some time but his plan needs lots of time to be thought through.

gifts and a heartfelt letter in tow, he heads back home to think of the big thing: how to do it.

with doyoung on speakerphone, he leaves his phone on the coffee table while he sits on the floor next to it wrapping your gifts. admittedly he went a little overboard, but if his confession goes well he has to show his gratitude somehow, right?

“i don’t know, doie, i’m scared. i don’t think i should do this..” taeyong whines, pouting heavily as he re-folds the corner of your wrapping paper for the fifth time. it keeps wrinkling, and he won’t settle for anything less than a crispy fold in your favorite color wrapping.

the other sighs, and it can’t be seen but he’s running his fingers through his hair in annoyance. “taeyong, you’re starting to aggravate all of us.” he’s referring to the rest of their friend group, who have all said the same thing. “you’ll never know how she feels if you don’t try.”

he curls into himself, squirming as anxiety courses through his veins. “but still.. if this goes bad i think i’ll die.”

“it won’t trust me. even if she says no, which i have a feeling she won’t, it’s not like she’s gonna cut you out. your friendship is too strong for that.”

even if doyoung is lying for the sake of comforting the other, it really does provide some reassurance. the worst that will happen is you saying no, so it’s worth a shot. even if the fear of rejection is strong, your relationship is strong enough to not break even with something like this happening. or, at least he hopes so.

bsf!taeyong who finally starts organizing your holiday date, the same one you have every year, however with more of a romantic intent behind it.

every year, you and taeyong go on a “friend date” for your day of celebration. rather than spending it with family or friends, you reserve it for each other.

last year, you went on a simple date to see your city’s holiday tree and shop around, and this year may be similar, but it’s a little more fancy.

you’ll be visiting the tree once again, however there’s something a little more special coming beforehand; dinner!

it was quite a struggle to find somewhere open on the day of, however it worked out and he spent quite a pretty penny on reserving the best place he could find.

since reserving a table at the nicest restaurant in the area, taeyong’s on around night three of feeding on whatever random snacks are laying around and cup ramen. he always spends his money on you, but the holiday season gets impossibly worse. of course, he’ll always make sure to have the funds and will never go without, but one day he might seriously go into debt if this keeps on.

sitting on his floor (it’s becoming a theme to sit right in front of the couch rather than on it), he stares at the wall while thinking of a plan on how to make his confession. ‘step one,’ he thinks, ‘take her to dinner. that won’t be anything new, so there’s no reason to freak out.. yet. step two.. visit the tree. should i give her a compliment while we’re there? ugh, no, too cheesy… just be regular. step three, hopefully it’s dark outside so we can take some pictures together. then, once they’re done, just say it. i’m madly in love with you and have been basically since we’ve met. no, scratch that! running away and crying is the only option !!!’

of course, these thoughts are very far fetched, but if the almost painful furrow of his brow isn’t evidence of his hard thinking, nothing else is. he’s even written a letter that’s safely tucked into one of your gift boxes in case he chickens out. he’s thought of every possible outcome, even the highly unrealistic one where you start sobbing while chicken dancing. he’s really so nervous, so much so that his heart pounds every time he thinks about it. every possible effort he can make to make sure everything will go right has been made. even if you reject his advances, only the best will be given to you.

bf!taeyong who gives you the best set of gifts you could ever ask for.

your day starts out with him coming over to your house, where he brings you breakfast and watches as you get ready.

next, he hands you your gifts, all wrapped in paper of your favorite color and characters.

when you try to open them in front of him, he immediately flushes, putting his hands out and begging you to wait until you part.

after that, he takes you out to dinner. it’s very cozy, jazz music filling the restaurant as you eat together. his hand brushes yours multiple times, but you pay it no mind.

finally, you visit the tree together and… see for yourself :)

⊹₊ ˚‧︵‿₊୨୧₊‿︵‧ ˚ ₊⊹

night has fallen, and you and taeyong stand in front of the large holiday tree, sparkling with lights and glittering ornaments. it’s always your favorite sight that comes with the holiday season, and it’s even better now that you’re sharing it with your best friend. he’s given you the best day you could ask for, and as you pose in front of the tree for him to take pictures for you, you’re wondering what could’ve warranted this treatment.

taeyong lowers the phone, taking a deep breath before stepping closer to you. your name leaves his lips with a heavy breath as if he’d been holding it. “can i tell you something?”

you smile, nodding your head as he takes your hands. “of course! what is it?”

your eyes are sparkling with all the festive lights around you, and he’s losing his breath. “there’s something that i’ve been thinking about for a while, and i think i’m ready to tell you… is that okay?”

you’re face immediately turns to a look of concern as you place a hand on his shoulder. “always, bubu. you don’t have to ask, is everything okay?”

he looks away, fidgeting with the seam of your gloved hand. “well, i, uh.. i really like you, a lot. romantically… and of course, if you’re uncomfortable with that we can pretend i didn’t say it, but i really needed to tell you.” he rambles.

immediately your smile grows bigger as you wrap yourself around taeyong in a hug. “oh, really? thank goodness, because me too! i like you so much too, bubu, and i was planning on telling you soon too.”

immediately he’s releasing his breath once again, reciprocating the hug so tightly that you’ll never be able to get out. “really? then, can i give you one last gift?” his eyes are so big, glossy and glimmering with so much hope and love that your heart flutters.

when you nod he pulls a card out of his pocket with a small box taped to the front. when you take it from him, you open the box to reveal a necklace with a dainty rose charm hanging from it. a soft gasp leaves your lips and you immediately take your gloves off to put it on. taeyong would’ve helped but his hands were so preoccupied with fidgeting out of anxiety that he didn’t even think of it. opening the card, it’s got a gift card to your favorite store and a message on the other side. it reads, ‘to my favorite person in the whole world, will you be my girlfriend?’

you pocket the gift and with a glowing smile you nod your head, wrapping your arms around his neck with a smile. “yes, yes of course taeyong! i’d love to be your girlfriend.” you back up, your face a short distance from his as you admire his smile that mirrors your own.

“oh thank goodness, i was afraid you’d say no..” his eyes flicker to your lips, “well.. i have one more present to give you, if that’s okay?”

your eyes trail down to his lips as well, and before you can even fully nod his lips are on yours. his kiss is gentle, lips soft yet cold as they connect with your own. it’s so sweet, the way he kisses you so softly yet long enough to know he’s not dreaming. under the festive lights and light snowfall, he shares his first kiss with you. it’s safe to say that it’s one for the books, and something you’ll never forget as you do this for years to come, your favorite holiday now becoming your anniversary with your best friend.

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[httpsdana]

Can you do promo 14 and 21 with kenan on how he never thought about actually dating until he met her and how she changed his opinion on dating

When It’s You~Kenan Yildiz

・❥・prompt list

・❥・masterlist -> part 2

・❥・who I write for

14-“I never planned to fall in love, but here we are.”

21-“I can’t believe you remember all those little things I say.”

Kenan Yildiz had always been a bit of a skeptic when it came to love. His focus had always been on his career, his goals, and his dreams.

Relationships, with all their messy emotions and potential distractions, didn’t fit into the plan. He was the type to scoff when his teammates talked about love, rolling his eyes at their lovesick grins and romantic anecdotes.

But then he met her.

It wasn’t a thunderbolt moment or an immediate spark of realization. It was more like the quiet breaking of dawn—slow, steady, and impossible to ignore.

He noticed the way she laughed, genuine and hearty, as if she weren’t afraid to fill the room with joy. The way her eyes lit up when she talked about her passions. How she always managed to bring out the best in him, even on his worst days.

Kenan found himself seeking out her company, making excuses to talk to her, and eventually, he couldn’t ignore the growing warmth in his chest every time she was around.

One evening, the two were sat in his living room , the movie playing on the TV flickered in the background, its plot long forgotten. Kenan sat beside her on the couch, unusually quiet, his gaze fixed on the floor as if lost in thought.

“What’s going on in that head of yours?” she asked, nudging his leg lightly with her foot.

He looked at her, startled, as if he hadn’t realized she was paying attention. A faint smile tugged at his lips, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “Just thinking,” he said simply.

She tilted her head, studying him. “Thinking about what?”

Kenan hesitated, his fingers tapping lightly against his knee. “You probably don’t remember, but the first time I ever talked to you, I told you I hated pineapple on pizza.”

She laughed, the memory instantly coming back. “Of course, I remember. You ranted about it for ten minutes. I thought, ‘Wow, this guy really has strong opinions about fruit.’”

His lips quirked up into a small grin. “It wasn’t my proudest moment.”

“Well, I thought it was cute,” she said with a shrug.

He looked at her, his expression softening. “I can’t believe you remember all those little things I say. I didn’t think anyone listened that much.”

“Of course, I listen,” she replied, reaching over to rest her hand on his. “Everything you say matters to me.”

Kenan turned his hand over, threading his fingers through hers. He stared at their intertwined hands for a moment, his thumb gently brushing against her skin.

“you know...I never planned to fall in love,” he admitted, his voice low. “But here we are.”

The sincerity in his tone made her chest tighten. “Kenan…”

“I mean it,” he said, his eyes meeting hers. “I thought love was something other people did. Something that would just get in the way of my plans. I didn’t think it was for me.” He gave a soft chuckle, shaking his head. “But then you came along, and now I can’t imagine not having you in my life.”

Her heart swelled, and she squeezed his hand. “Well, I’m glad I changed your mind.”

He smiled, leaning in to press a soft, lingering kiss to her forehead. “You didn’t just change my mind. You changed everything.”

And in that moment, with his hand in hers and his words still lingering in the air, she knew that she had done the same for him.

my taglist: @barcapix @paucubarsisimp @spidybaby @mxryxmfooty (lmk if you want to be added!!)

[ink-stainedkiss]

Love is So Cruel - Yuji Itadori

Synopsis: Your breakup with Yuji was probably one of the worst memories you can think of, even if you dated when you were both so young. Now, both of you have grow and see each other once again at a Christmas party. Outside, Yuji wants to know why he can’t be happy and have you at the same time…

Sigh, you guys have got to hate me. It’s quite literally Christmas Eve and I’m only gifting you sadness. 🙁 the bad thing is I can't stop because angst hurts so bad, but it makes my frontal lobe develope in the right way. Aways, only one more day till Christmas and I promise I will give you all a real gift. Please feel free to comment and request! I love seeing your ideas❤️

Warnings:None, unless you count sadness as a trigger.

Word count: 1.6k

The wind rushed by. Its coldness makes good bumps rise on your skin at the smallest touch. You could be warm, inside with all of your loved ones and friends. A comforting yellow glow illuminated from the house and the light was so enchanting, but you needed to settle something. At first, the party was great. The food was homemade and delicious. A Christmas movie played in the background, something old and familiar that anyone could sit down and watch. Small games were happening in the dining room, gifts were being passed back and forth, and no one was sure what they would get.

It was a beautiful sight, but you weren’t inside to see it. You stood, in the cold, a light jacket providing no warmth, but how could you care about the weather when he was standing right next to you? Even past the small flurries of snow, his light pink hair showed through, looking as bright as it did all those years ago. There was a cup in his hand that he occasionally sipped at. You didn’t have to guess what was in it. You watched him carefully. He looked so grown. He was taller, his shoulder broader, and his teenage features were nothing but a memory. It seemed just yesterday he was bouncing around the school, excited and so naive to exercise curses.

The job kills. Mentally and physically. You were just some of the ‘lucky’ people who had kept all of their limbs. But you weren’t out here to talk about being successful sorcerers. No. Yuji cleared his throat, not daring to look you in the eyes as he said,” So, you and Megumi look happy.”

You can’t stop the soft smile that melts onto your face. You and Megumi had gotten married a little over five months ago and things were going a lot better than expected,” We are.” You were happy, so so happy, but tonight, as Megumi held onto your hips, you had gotten a glimpse of the boy you loved so long ago. His face was showing an emotion you couldn’t pinpoint.

You understood why he wasn’t exactly thrilled that you were dating one of his closest friends, even if your relationship had ended. You understood if you were in his shoes, you would be just as numb. There was no pact. No promise. No soul-binding contract that vowed you would find each other again, so you hadn’t done anything wrong. You had simply…moved on. And you were so sure Yuji had done the same. Before Megumi and you even started dating, you checked Yuji’s posts, finding a gorgeous girl who held tightly too. Sure, at the time you felt how Yuji is feeling now, but you saw no point in grieving over a love that was bound to fall apart.

“Do you remember what you said to me that day?” His voice cut through your thoughts like a heated blade. It stunned you at first, but you slowly made the connection,” I do.” His eyes never left the trees encasing the humble home,” You told me that you will love me forever.” There was no amusement nor sadness in his tone,” And I believed you. I really did.”

You sighed, your breath forming a small cloud of fog,” That doesn’t mean I stopp-“

“Don’t.” He cut you off sharply,” Don’t lie to me. I saw how you looked at him and you never once looked at me like that.” His voice was bitter. Frankly, you scoffed,” We were kids Yuji. I committed to something I didn’t even understand completely. I just didn’t want you to hurt.”

“So you go and marry my best friend?” He spit, his jaw tightening. You inhaled slowly, trying to keep calm,”Did you expect me to just sit around and wish you would come back? I couldn’t do that to myself or Megumi. I had to continue to live.”

There was a reason for these venom-laced words being uttered. You and Yuji’s relationship didn’t end in a pretty way. Yuji had gotten too caught up in the missions and ultimately had forgotten about you and your well-being. So when you would scold him for being reckless, he only found it annoying, and after weeks of petty fights and disagreements, you decided it was time to go on a break. You suggested this in the middle of your guys' worst argument yet. You had already been crying, but when you muttered those words, tears started to flow from Yuji’s eyes.

You hated how he begged you to change your mind. He told you he could change and how much he loved you, but he had said those words before and nothing happened. So as he clung to your body, his tear-stained face in the crook of your neck, you told him the truth.

“I will love you forever. Nothing will stop that.”

A hiccup escaped the poor boy and he held you tighter,” Please, don’t leave me. I'm so sorry for everything I’ve done, just don’t go.”

Your heart panged harshly. Oh, how you wished he could turn his desperation into hate. His broken voice and deep sobs were some of the worst sounds you had ever heard. They made your skin crawl, your hands clamping into tight first, and worst of all, they made this so much harder. How easy it would be if Yuji were to despise your living being. Maybe then you could get through this.

Unbeknownst to you, amid your silence replaying the scene, a single tear streamed down your face and you quickly wiped it off. Love was so cruel. It felt nice to float above the clouds, soak in those mesmerizing sunsets and rises, but suddenly, the screen of ultraviolet was torn from your vision and as you looked down, you realized you were free-falling toward the cold and dark earth. Alas, you had already been crushed.

Slowly you turned your head, gazing longingly at the people inside, and you told yourself it was time to go. For the first time that night, you looked at Yuji willingly,” I’m sorry, again.” He made no comment, but you weren’t looking for one,” Maybe in another universe we could have worked out.”

You turned, body screaming to be free from the freezing temperatures, but in the blink of an eye, you were being forced back towards Yuji, who had grabbed your hand all too quickly. He held you close, your bodies touching. The warmth he was producing was almost soothing, but you didn’t move an inch. You stared up into his eyes and it was as if he had been rejuvenated and you were looking at the same Yuji you held onto that night. Even in the darkly lit area, you could see the sadness welling in his eyes.

“Why not this one?” His voice cracked and you felt a wave of Deja Vu. His eyes searched so desperately for an answer, but you couldn't find one. At least one that could give him peace. It was a soul-shattering display. To see someone so determined to be strong for the people he cared about, being torn apart by losing the only one he loved. If you couldn't see how much you meant to him then, then you surely saw it now.

Guilt was eating away at you and it only got worse as he tried to pull back the tear falling from his eye. Instinctively, you cupped his cheek, your thumb wiping away the droplet and caressing his tired face. You loathed how he leaned into your palm, needing some sort of affection, even as the sparks of hope flickered out.

“I know you’ll find someone Yuji.” You stated under your breath,” Someone who laughs with you. Someone who loves video games and movies,” You let out a bittersweet chuckle,” And I know you will find happiness.” Your tiny smile faded,” Just promise me something.”

“Anything.” He said instantly.

“Promise me that you will go out and find her, instead of only searching in the past.”

Your words hit Yuji right in the heart, but deep down, past the yearning and grief, he knew you were right. So as much as his heart denied it, he nodded slowly. You gave him a smile, one that unfortunately made his heartbeat pick up. Slowly you let go of the boy, trying to ignore how his hold on you lingered until you were taking a step back.

“Hey!”

You both whipped your heads around, finding your loving husband standing in the doorway,” You guys are going to miss dirty Santa if you keep chatting out here.” You watched as Megumi held himself, never one to enjoy the cold, and giggled,” Sorry love, we’ll be inside in a second.”

He nodded, already moving back into the warm room,” Good. I don’t want either of you freezing your ass off.” And with that, he shut the sliding door.

It was quiet after he left. You watched the snow-covered floor, and then you made your way back to look at the man,” I’ll see you around, Itadori.” He didn’t have time to respond as you walked away, heading inside to your husband and the party. Megumi opened the door for you, planting a sweet kiss on you the moment you stepped foot into the room and Yuji could see it all.

The only thing that mattered was that you were happy and if that meant it wasn’t with Yuji, then he was going to have to accept your wishes.

Sadly for both you and him, the only person you described matched only one person. But he had already let them slip through his fingers.

[popka310]

Endlessly Yours

Pairing — nishimura riki x fem!reader

Synopsis — Nishimura Niki, the quiet kid, harbors a dangerous obsession with you. What begins as a simple crush quickly spirals into a suffocating need to control every aspect of your life.

Genre — Psychological Thriller, romantic suspense, yandere, drama, dark romance, obsessive love.

Word count — 642 (this is only the first part)

CONTENT WARNING(S) — Obsessive behavior, manipulation, possessiveness, emotional abuse, stalking, mental manipulation, psychological distress, threatening behavior. (Prob missed some so…)

FIRST PART — A Love Too Deep

The school bell rang, signaling the end of another long day. It was a typical afternoon, filled with the usual chatter and the rustle of students gathering their things to leave. You packed your bag, the sounds of lockers slamming and feet shuffling filling the hallway. There was a sense of relief in the air—people were eager to get home, to relax, to unwind from the chaos of school.

But for you, the end of the school day meant something different.

Niki was always there, waiting for you.

At first, it had been a coincidence. You’d seen him a few times after class, in the same spot near the school gates, as if by chance. You hadn’t thought much of it. But then the encounters began to feel a little too regular, a little too planned. He always seemed to be in the same place, right when you walked out of the school building. Always with that easy smile, the one that made you feel both welcomed and strangely trapped at the same time.

You’d tried to brush it off, to tell yourself it was just a coincidence. After all, you didn’t really know him. Sure, you’d exchanged a few words in the halls or in class, but nothing beyond that. He was a quiet, unassuming presence in your life. Yet, as the weeks went on, his presence became more unavoidable.

Today was no different. As you stepped out into the school courtyard, you saw him standing there, leaning against a pillar, his hands tucked casually into his pockets. The moment he spotted you, his expression softened, and his lips curved into a smile that, while friendly, always seemed to have an undertone that left you feeling uneasy.

“Hey,” he said, his voice smooth, like it always was. “How was class today?”

You stopped in your tracks, a little caught off guard. “Uh, it was fine,” you said, trying to sound normal. “Nothing special.”

He pushed off from the pillar and took a step closer, the same easy smile still on his face. “That’s good. I was wondering if you’d be done soon. I had a feeling I’d catch you here.”

You blinked. “You knew I’d be here?”

He nodded, as though it was the most natural thing in the world. “Of course. I’ve been waiting for you.”

Something about the way he said it made your stomach twist. It wasn’t an invitation—it was a certainty. A quiet, calm certainty that left you with a feeling of dread.

“Uh, well, I’m heading home,” you said quickly, taking a step back. “So, I’ll see you around.”

But he didn’t move. His eyes followed you as you started to walk away, and for a moment, you could feel his gaze heavy on the back of your neck. When you glanced over your shoulder, he was still standing there, watching you. There was something in his eyes—something that made you pause, something you couldn’t name.

“Are you sure?” he called after you, his voice light, but there was an edge to it now, a subtle insistence. “I was hoping we could walk together. I don’t mind taking the long way home.”

You hesitated. You didn’t want to be rude, but you weren’t sure you were ready to spend any more time with him. You barely knew him. Yet, something in his tone made you reluctant to say no.

“I’m really fine,” you said, forcing a smile. “Maybe some other time.”

Niki didn’t seem upset. In fact, his smile only deepened, though there was something almost too knowing about it now, something unsettling that made your skin crawl.

“Alright,” he said, nodding. “I’ll see you tomorrow, then. I’ll be waiting for you.”

You didn’t say anything else. You turned quickly and walked away, your mind racing with questions, with that strange, nagging feeling that something wasn’t right.

[theartofwoompwoomp]

Please can you write maybe a small comfort fic for Jazz? I LOVED your headcanons for him!! He would be so fun to be with

I’m glad you liked it, he definitely deserves more love <3

Only the best for you

Jazz x reader

Summary : Jazz always seems to surprise you.

————————————————————————

You know he’s been planning this for awhile now. Always being so secretive, well, at least he thought so, you caught him various times muttering and giggling softly as he wrote in his datapad.

And whenever you asked him he’d always hit you with, “sorry darling, can’t let myself ruin the surprise,” then would winked at ya and give you a small kiss on the forehead. 

It was endearing to see how excited he was for whatever he had in mind.

Though, you definitely weren’t expecting to wake up one morning seeing him massed shifted into a pink apron, that was a bit too tight, as he finished making your favorite breakfast. 

“Oh Darling !” He turned the stove off, “Guess who got their own personal chef for the whole day~” he came closer, wanting to close the distance between you. See what expression you were making.

To say you were flabbergasted was the least. Your eyes were wide open, trying to focus on him and not totally on his looks, as you stammered a bit to respond. “Jazz my love, you made- did all of this?” 

The softness of your voice warmed his spark. His own emotions needing to be displayed, he warps his arms around you and places his helm at the side of your neck. Successfully capturing you. “Why of course,” his breath makes contact with your skin, almost making you shiver, “you, my love, deserve the best.”

He lifts his head, staring right at you. Inspecting every feature with adoration. You’re also looking back, not wanting him to let go.

Ugh, why are you soo freaking adorable. Cupping your face peppering you with kisses, first your nose, then your cheeks. You raise your hands acting as if trying to block his love.

But he’s not having none of that. 

You deserve all his love, and grabs your arms also spreading them with kisses.

The whole thing has the both of you laughing, “Jazz, what the hell are you doing?” Your tone cheery and still oh so ever barely holding back your snickers. 

He raises himself a bit as he leans back down, but this time stops right in front of your face. He smile wide and proud at making you happy.

“What, you don’t like my love?” 

Oh god, and to think this was only the beginning of his planned day. 

———————————————————————

masterlist

Thanks for the request, i think we all needed a bit of jazz love today lol

[auspicioustidings]

Chapter 1. Amendment 4-O

Masterlist (inc Content Warnings)

November

Charu Hale had already been serving when Amendment 4-O made headlines and the debate around the country had been overshadowed by the fact she was pretty busy trying to save the fucking world.

Not officially in close combat of course, she wasn’t allowed to do that then, but despite the word medic on her file she did a lot more than patch fellow soldiers up.

Sure omegas weren’t allowed to serve in close combat, but on a technicality she certainly had been. Combat medic was still classed as a support role despite the fact that she was almost always up close and personal with people shooting at her and she was almost always shooting back.

But still, her mother had sacrificed a lot to be special forces and that was the dream on signing up. And with Amendment 4-O, the right of omegas to serve in any capacity in the UK military would finally be afforded to her. She honestly hadn’t thought it would make it to law, the whole country had been in bitter argument over the whole thing and the majority of politicians voting on it were alphas. At that point, there were only around 30% betas and a measly 6 omegas sitting in parliament.

She remembered the day it was announced it had passed. She had been in hospital for a checkup on the burned scent gland on the right side of her neck that had her on medical leave. It was a heinous thing to mess with anyone’s scent glands, but especially an omegas given their social value to society. What better way to torture someone than use their own designation against them?

She hadn’t been held for very long thankfully. Only one gland burned since her captors had wanted to leave the other side of her neck and her wrists working to see exactly what she smelled like when the scent blockers and suppressants wore off. She wasn’t stupid, she knew as soon as it started to come out of her system they would be eagerly awaiting her heat. Did they want her to be ashamed of how she would lose control? When alphas treated their own loss of control during ruts like it was God’s fucking gift to prove how dominant they were? Not a damn chance. She had been fully prepared to go through a heat with them and not break over it.

Her CO was eager to discharge her entirely. After all what would have happened had she went into heat and they had claimed her? It would tie her to them permanently while any of them lived. They’d be able to feel her through the bond, know exactly what her emotions were doing when they interrogated her.

Funny how that CO never mentioned that the reverse would have worked. She’d have been able to feel them too. Not only that, but they’d have to fight their instincts to protect her constantly if they wanted to torture info from her. Unless of course they didn’t let her complete the bond. It was an disgusting thing to bite someone and not let them bite back. The bite wouldn’t ever settle, would stay painful and swollen and get worse and worse the longer it went. It would need to be on a scent gland because that was the only way to get a forced bite to take.

If that had happened to her she’d at least know she’d probably only have a year or two before she went totally mad to the extent she barely understood what was happening to her anymore.

Even so, alphas were hard wired to protect omegas so it would be difficult for any alpha to do that to someone. It was incredibly fucking stupid that her designation was the one seen as a vulnerability when plenty of alpha soldiers had been undone by a pretty omega perfume.

Betas had always been allowed on front lines too despite not having as good a nose. How was that fair? Charu could get the emotional temperature of someone from one sniff and it had saved lives because she knew whether negotiating was going to work or if she had to take the shot. She knew if someone was nervous or if they were hiding something. Even if they were on scent blockers, omegas were the best of the bunch at reading pheromones absent of scent, so she was the one that was the best bet for reading enemies.

Most people in the military were on scent blockers. Strong ones. Sure they wanted to hide their own scents, but for a lot of them it was to do with their packs. Any bite would carry the scent of the person who left it and while bite scents could be suppressed by the person wearing them fairly easy, it was hard to keep them suppressed under stress. The last thing any solider wanted was to give their enemies the exact scent of their pack mates. Not an issue for her given she didn’t have a pack.

She remembered sitting in that hospital room off of scent blockers with the beta doctor looking at her scent gland like it was the most hideous disfigurement he had ever seen. It didn’t affect her scent that much, all of her others were still in order. She remembered how the omega nurse had asked her in a whisper if she had seen the news. She remembered how it felt to know that she were going to follow in her mother’s footsteps despite her wishes when she had been alive and be special forces because now they couldn’t fucking stop her.

She’d have never gotten to trials had it not been for the help of omegas along the way. Omegas who pushed through paperwork, ignored pressure from higher ups to slow things down, went against every alpha medical professional who tried to discharge her as medically unfit for whatever reason they could find and testified on her behalf that she was fully fit to take part.

At some point it became its own pressure. She didn’t want to be to be the first omega in the special forces, she didn’t want to be a trailblazer or someone to look up to, but it’s what was happening as a consequence of wanting to be special forces regardless of her designation. With all that expectation on her, failure wasn’t really an option. Quitting wasn’t an option.

Even if a certain pack made it their mission to get her to give in.

—

January

John Price didn’t much care what a bunch of soft bickering politicians said, omegas did not belong on the front lines. It was a basic fact of biology, the stress alone would kill them, the alpha instinct to protect them would kill their team mates and if by some miracle neither of those things happened and they got captured? It made him feel violently ill. He knew what evil men did to omegas. He’d seen it once. He hadn’t known him but it was to torture him, to have him watch this poor omega be broken apart using every single part of his designation against him. He still had nightmares.

He thought he had saved him. He got them both out. At that time Ghost was pack and the two of them tried so hard to help him. It wasn’t enough, he was already too far gone. It was Ghost who found his body.

They would not stand for putting an omega in harms way, not when they knew what that meant. He’d argued against the proposed fitness standards, saying if omegas wanted to be SAS then they should be able to prove the same physical fitness as any other designation. That was shot down considering the standards were different between alphas and betas because at the end of the day an alpha was going to have a significant natural strength advantage.

He at least had them set as hard for omegas. If he was being honest with himself harder than it would be for alphas if you boiled it down to what was considered hard for each designation, but he was willing to play dirty to do what ultimately amounted to the right thing. If none of them ever passed the standards, none of them would ever get put into situations not compatible with their biology.

It was frustrating because he knew both him and Ghost probably sounded like alpha elitists of the highest order, but that wasn’t it. He desperately wanted to find their pack omega. He wanted to give them the whole world and keep them safe. He wanted an equal partnership that acknowledged their designations but didn’t hinge their whole relationship on them.

That became even more true with the addition of Gaz and Soap to their pack. Soap wasn’t a traditional alpha, half the time he acted like an omega. Gaz had none of the hot headedness that came with most alphas, instead acting more like a pack beta with how he calmed situations down and made sure they were all looked after. A traditionalist omega would hate them, would never accept alphas who didn’t dominate their way through the world like him and Ghost tended to do.

But he just knew there was an omega out there that would be the perfect fit. Not totally submissive, just enough to soothe their alphas while still standing up to them when the occasion called for it. Happy to accept that Gaz would be their partner in handling the maintenance of pack bonds when that was traditionally down to the omega only. And someone who didn’t take offence to Soap wanting a say in the nest, because they all knew he’d be heartbroken if he didn’t.

The biggest hurdle would be asking an omega to be part of a pack made up of all special forces alphas. They would be gone so much of the time with no guarantee of when or even if they’d return. Him and Ghost had spoken about it at length, considered if it would be time for one or both of them to retire if they did find their omega. But the idea of not having their younger pack members backs was terrifying.

Maybe they just weren’t meant to have an omega. Wouldn’t be fair to put them through being packed with the 141, perfect match or not. He was willing to have his pack always be missing something if it meant sparing an omega the pain and grief of being with them.

He did not hate omegas. He did not see them as less than. But they did not bloody well belong on the front lines.

And yet here he was trying not to march straight into the new batch of recruits and drag the omega out of there by the scruff. He should have known as soon as it went into law that there would be a reckless omega trying to prove something. She was a sturdy thing for sure, short but stocky. Sort of reminded him of Soap and he quickly dismissed the wondering about if she perhaps did the same as his boy when on leave, let herself get a little softer around the edges so whoever was waiting for her back home would have something to really sink their fingers into.

He’d checked her record. Charu Hale, 24 years old, presented as an omega at 16. Presentations varied, but 16 was considered young. Her height was noted at a diminutive 5 foot 4 inches, but he couldn’t help but think she looked even shorter in person. She signed up at 17 and he had been growling reading her record since then. It was cruel. Her COs had been so consistently cruel. It was in how they wrote about her, the assignments she got given. It made him feel uncomfortable because he knew he was gearing up to be much the same to get her the fuck out of here.

Not much family noted, but he could take a guess at why. Alpha mother and beta father. Female alphas were already somewhat of an anomaly, but for them to do anything but pack with male alphas and an omega was frowned upon. He thought it was bullshit, traditional pack dynamics being forced on anyone was heinous. But it didn’t change the fact that there was a non-zero chance their relationship had found them cut off from their families. Even more a social sin their pack had taken the beta’s name rather than the alpha’s.

The father was a civilian, but the mother had a record. Special fucking forces. He wasn’t proud of the digging he did to pour over the service record of Hasina Devi (looked like it changed to Hale about 6 years in, he wondered how they met), to figure out the journey she took from India to apply for the British army (Commonwealth citizens were given eligibility, but he couldn’t imagine it was made easy for her) and the way she gave seniors no choice but to accept her to the SAS with her frankly incredible test results. She only ever made it to Sergeant.

He tried to make sense of it. This wasn’t the record of someone who was a Sergeant. Some of the ops she went on? It was ridiculous he had never heard of her. They’d scrubbed her from their history. Let her record sit gathering dust in a drawer rather than admit that a female alpha had been one of their best.

Look, he got it. He got why her daughter would want to follow in her footsteps, legacy was a powerful thing. But Hale was not her alpha mother. She was an omega.

Ghost would probably do something that would get him discharged to get her to quit, Gaz would try convince him to let her give it a shot and Soap… he had to get her out of here before Soap ever set eyes on her. Out of the pack he was the one that felt strongest about them missing a pack mate, one he hoped was an omega. Plus he’d always insisted that their omega wouldn’t just give them an easy time, that he knew deep down whoever their mate was would keep them on their toes. Putting an omega soldier who was stubbornly trying to qualify for the SAS despite everything in front of Soap was practically MacTavish bait.

He needed to do this himself and quickly. He didn’t relish the idea of her failing, he knew it would probably cause her distress, but it was better she went through this now than died and got everyone in her team killed down the line.

“Move Corporal.”

“Sir?”

Price just raised an eyebrow at the Corporal sitting in position to be ‘rescued’ which got her on her feet, saluting and accepting the dismissal. If some little omega wanted to prove she could rescue a downed comrade, it would be all 6 feet of him. And when she couldn’t because realistically he was a big alpha and she’d have to get him a fair distance under time pressure, well good on her for trying out but back to supporting roles.

He watched as she set her jaw and marched up to the starting line. Hm. He had expected her to throw a tantrum if he was honest, he was very much twisting the rules and she could probably get him into trouble over it. He respected that she didn’t. If it weren’t for those omega pheromones giving away her biology, he’d probably have bet on her making it to the end just from how she held herself when a Captain was clearly out to get her.

As she came running over he found himself pissed off all over again. He shouldn’t be surprised by this point that cushy desk job wankers never thought anything through, but Christ on a bike hadn’t they already figured out that people with different biology needed different kit? They’d given her what he’d guess was for a beta woman, a designation/gender match that was fairly uncommon in the special forces. But omegas carried more weight in their hips and legs, less on their shoulders and back.

To even qualify to try out she’d had to have been serving for at least a few years. Had she been running around in ill-fitting kit that entire time? The weight distribution was all fucking wrong. This bloody military was going to cause omegas permanent damage. Did he think omegas should be in roles that required this kind of kit? No. But that didn’t change the fact that they were in those roles and should be made safe doing them if the government insisted on letting them.

He might be able to stop her from getting into special forces, but she’d go right back to being a combat medic once she’d failed out of the SAS trials. He made a mental note to call Kate and see what pressure she could put on from her end to get the kit looked at. The Americans did have omegas in the special forces so they must have proper kit sorted out.

“Hey! Sitrep sitrep!”

She’d not fallen into any of the traps so far, checking the area and spotting the mock landmines that would have failed her had she missed them in the rush to get to him. He was being extra awful because the victim here was supposed to be in shock but able to move, although he was wondering why she switched out to her handgun and trained it on him when he was supposed to be getting saved. He was playing an unconscious dead weight even as he stared at her. Charu Hale had pretty green eyes and he watched as something dangerous flashed in them.

“I have a man down here” she said after tapping her mic on, checking him for any identifying marks but finding none since he wasn’t geared up, just combat trousers and a compression shirt. “No ID, we missing any friendlies?”

Smart arse. She’d been briefed on finding a woman a half foot shorter than him with glaringly different physical features. He was almost annoyed he hadn’t considered the right thing for her to do was actually to check in instead of going straight for a rescue. Explained the gun still trained on him.

There was a flash of disappointment on her face as she listened to whatever was going on in her ear. The instructor was content to give her a hard time too then, probably saying to retrieve him even though it was clear he was making the test impossible. He hated it, he really hated it, but it was a necessary evil.

“Ok Captain Price, you’re coming with me.”

Well fuck him, he couldn’t help but admire the stubborn determination. Maybe when all was said and done he’d check in when she was on leave just to figure out her scent. On duty everyone was taking military grade scent blockers so he had no clue what she smelled like, but he was curious.

The growl that ripped from him was involuntary. She’d jammed her fingers under his bite collar, same as hers to cover scent glands, and pressed on one of his. Hard. His cock jolted and he grabbed her arm, only freezing when the muzzle of her gun pressed right between his eyes.

“Morning Captain, now that it seems you’re no longer unconscious, why don’t you let me help you to the safe zone. Orders from up top.”

He wanted to shred her to pieces with his damn teeth. His alpha instincts wanted him to rip her bite collar off and sink those teeth right into that pretty throat while he sunk his cock into that sweet omega cunt. Fuck. It had been a while since an alpha urge had hit him quite that hard. But then it’d been a while since he had been this close to an omega.

Thoroughly furious but unable to do anything about it without humiliating himself he let her help him up and to the safe zone, in silence and with a petty amount of his weight on her.

It wasn’t lost on him that as he stormed off his cock was still straining against his pants. Charu Hale huh? She was going to be a massive fucking problem.