#because he wants her to be happy (more than maybe anything he wants her to be happy) and he couldn't make her as happy as pike | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

tender-rosiey · 5 hours ago

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WE’VE SEEN SUKUNA WITH A SHY DAUGHTER, BUT WHAT ABOUT..SUKUNA WITH AN EXTROVERTED ENERGETIC HUMOROUS DAUGHTER⁉️⁉️

mischief reign — ryomen sukuna x f!reader

a/n: I HEAR YOU ANON

sukuna, the king of curses, master of terror and destruction, sits cross-legged on his throne with a look of pure exasperation carved into his features.

his crimson eyes follow the whirlwind of energy that is your daughter as she darts across the room.

“stop running, d/n,” sukuna orders, his voice heavy with authority. “you’ll trip over your own feet and break your neck. then what will you do?”

d/n skids to a halt in the middle of the hall, her little arms spread wide for balance.

her grin is as wide as her father’s, though hers is filled with boundless mischief rather than malice.

“then you’ll fix me!” she chirps without a second of hesitation, twirling on one foot.

sukuna pinches the bridge of his nose, muttering under his breath. “you’re too much like your mother.”

“is that supposed to be an insult?” you call out, stepping into the room with a knowing smile.

sukuna’s gaze flicks to you, and though his expression doesn’t soften, you can tell he’s relieved by your presence.

“it’s a warning,” he retorts. “one is enough. two of you? that’s a curse even I don’t deserve.”

d/n bounds over to you, her tiny hands clutching at your robes as she peers up at you with wide, excited eyes.

“mama, did you see me? I ran so fast! like this—zoom!” she dashes in a quick circle around you, nearly tripping over her own feet in the process.

“I saw,” you reply with a laugh, steadying her before she topples over. “but your father’s right. you’ll hurt yourself if you’re not careful.”

she pouts up at you, her brows furrowing in an uncanny imitation of sukuna. “papa’s always telling me to stop. he’s so grumpy!”

“because you don’t listen,” sukuna snaps, his tone sharp but not unkind.

“because you’re always grumpy!” d/n shoots back, sticking her tongue out at him.

the audacity of her response earns a low growl from sukuna. “insolent brat,” he mutters.

you stifle a laugh, knowing better than to let sukuna see you encouraging her sass. d/n, on the other hand, has no such reservations.

she scrambles up the steps to his throne, plopping herself down beside him with all the confidence of someone who knows they’re untouchable.

“why don’t you smile more, papa?” she asks, leaning her chin on her tiny hands as she gazes up at him.

sukuna stares at her like she’s just suggested he grow a third ear. “I don’t smile because I have to deal with you,” he replies flatly.

“you’re so mean!” d/n huffs, crossing her arms. “mama, tell him he’s mean!”

you step closer, your hands resting on your hips as you give sukuna an amused look. “you are so mean, sukuna.”

“I will show you mean later,” sukuna counters, eyes focused on you before they narrow as he turns to look at your daughter. “the world isn’t soft and kind. you might as well learn that now, you brat.”

d/n puffs out her cheeks in defiance. “but the world isn’t just mean either! there’s fun and happy things too! like flowers, and festivals, and—” she pauses, a sly grin creeping onto her face. “—frowny grumpy old men like you!”

sukuna’s eye twitches, his patience visibly wearing thin. “old?” he echoes, his tone dangerously low. “do you have a death wish, child?”

“maybe!” d/n chirps, completely unfazed.

the sheer audacity of her response leaves sukuna momentarily speechless, and you have to turn away to hide your laughter.

“d/n,” you say gently, crouching down to her level. “why don’t we give your father a break? he’s had a long day.”

“but he doesn’t do anything!” she protests, pointing an accusing finger at sukuna.

the cursed king leans forward, his crimson gaze locking onto hers with a dangerous gleam. “do you want to find out what I can do, little girl?”

“sure!” d/n replies brightly, hopping off the throne and striking a playful fighting stance. “let’s see what you’ve got, old man!”

sukuna’s lips curl into a predatory grin, and for a moment, you think he might actually take her up on the challenge.

but then he leans back with a huff, crossing all four of his arms.

“you’re not worth the effort,” he declares.

d/n pouts, clearly disappointed. “you’re no fun,” she grumbles, flopping onto the floor dramatically.

“and you’re exhausting,” sukuna fires back.

you step between them, shaking your head with a fond smile. “

“alright, that’s enough. d/n, why don’t you help me in the garden?”

“but I don’t wanna leave papa!” d/n whines, clinging to one of sukuna’s lower arms. “he’s fun to tease!”

sukuna pries her off with minimal effort, holding her at arm’s length like a particularly annoying kitten.

“I don’t need your help to be teased,” he growls. “I’ve got your mother for that.”

you chuckle, reaching out to take d/n from him. “come on, troublemaker. let’s go pick some flowers for your father. maybe that’ll cheer him up.”

“good luck,” d/n mutters, allowing herself to be led away. “papa doesn’t like anything.”

“except for you,” you murmur under your breath, glancing back at sukuna.

his eyes meet yours, and though his expression remains unreadable, there’s a flicker of something softer in his gaze.

as you and d/n move toward the door, sukuna’s voice follows you, low and gruff. "you're both in the same lump to me," he says.

your eyes widen slightly at the admission. your raise your head to look at him, suddenly right in front of you. you’re about to respond.

but without waiting for a reply, sukuna lightly bumps his shoulder against yours as he passes, the motion almost casual but undeniably intentional.

his gaze never wavers from the throne, but you catch the small, reluctant smirk that tugs at the corner of his lips.

"don't forget that.”

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love-quinn · 2 days ago

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— THREAD OF GOLD

summary — a thread of moments that defined your relationship with mike.

warnings — uh i don’t think there are? me not caring about the irl timeline of events and making up my own shit cause i can. also i switch between past and present tense like nobody's business so we're all gonna pretend we don't notice that.

pairing — mike faist x fem!famous! reader

pronouns — she/her

word count — 7.8k + social media posts

note — hi sorry i’ve been MIA i’ve been working on this for 5ever truly it came to me one day and i couldn’t write anything else. this isn’t edited because it’s nearly 8k and i’m not about that life.

important note that i tried to make it so yn’s skin tone changed in at least some of the pictures to make it more inclusive but pinterest fought me SO hard i spent maybe four hours just finding images. this is NOT meant to be a depiction of what yn looks like, just a general vibe of the images used in the thread <33

ONE. july 2017

California doesn’t have seasons the same way your hometown did. California has two seasons: wet and dry. You grew up in the suburbs of New York, in Westchester county, about an hour north of Manhattan. You went to the city a few times growing up, but you spent almost all of your upbringing on a quiet street with a cul-de-sac and a park a street away.

You’d lived in California for a while, you were based there for most of the year, but you’d still say you lived in New York. You were lucky enough to be at a break between projects where you got to spend more than a few weeks at a time at your New York apartment.

You’d been back maybe two weeks and knowing that you didn’t have to go back to the west coast for at least six months felt like a major weight off your chest. Finally retreating back to your cocoon, the air around you still felt thick, but this one felt more like a wall keeping things out rather than one keeping you in.

So, naturally, the first thing you did with your newfound seclusion was to venture outside with a man you’d been trying to go out with for a few months now.

You and Mike had known each other for a little over half a year now. You’d met at a new year’s party hosted by a mutual friend of a mutual friend and you had known immediately that he was someone that you wanted to know desperately. You’d been elated that he seemed to reciprocate. Unfortunately, with your work schedules, this was the first time since January that you’d had enough time in the same state.

He was unlike anyone that you had ever met, and now that you were in the same place, you were revelling in his presence. He’d taken you to a park near his apartment, he’d let you hold his hand on the subway and you were pretty sure that he was going to kiss you later.

It had been a while since you’d been outside - like, properly outside, and Mike was enjoying how happy you seemed to be. While you’d been trying to organise yourselves, Mike had spent hours on the phone with you, trying to avoid sounding so disgustingly happy that he scared you off. This may have been your first real date, but Mike already knew that you were it for him.

You were chattering about a story from your childhood, and he was really trying to listen to you, but he was focused more on the way the golden hour was hitting your face, and the way you would subconsciously squeeze his hand when you made yourself laugh.

“Yeah, since then my mom makes sure that she puts the cat treats away whenever he comes over,” you giggled. Mike let the sound fill him from the inside. He opened his mouth to reply but was interrupted by you dropping his hand. “I’ve needed this,” you let your head fall back to bask in the dying sunlight. “Air that I’m not sharing with Buzzfeed HQ, grass that is made in real dirt.”

“I see,” Mike nodded seriously. “You’re not even here for me, you were just waiting for a guy to take you to see some trees.”

You reach back and grip his hand, eyes sparkling directly into his. “Thank you,” you say sincerely, “for knowing your place.”

He laughed and let you drop your hand again, watching fondly as you speed off in front of him, stopping maybe fifteen feet in front of him. “Will you come with me to the emergency room when I fall out of the tree I’m about to climb.”

Mike was sure you could see exactly how much he wanted to kiss you from the look on his face. He laughed, nodding. “That’s actually the next stop I had planned anyway.”

TWO. october 2017

You couldn’t remember dolling yourself up for a date in so long, but it was clearly paying off the way that Mike hadn’t let you out of arm’s reach the entire cab ride. You hand two hands on his arm and he’d been talking in your ear the whole ride.

You were taking him to lunch at one of your favourite places in the city, quiet, not visible from the street, with a wonderful goat cheese salad. He’d been ecstatic that you were clearly showing him parts of your life that you kept close to your chest.

The two of you had only been together properly for about three months now, but you’d known each other for nearly a year. Mike hadn’t really dated anyone in the industry before, definitely not publicly.

You’d mentioned to him a few of your past dating experiences before, and you had been steadfast on the fact that if you were going to have a relationship that it would be as completely private as possible.

Mike didn’t think he’d ever hesitated less to reply - he was all in, same page. It felt simultaneously too fast and too slow. You’d been dating for three months, sure, but he’d known you since January, and it had felt like that first seven months had been confirmation that he liked you again and again and again.

Mike had been calling you his girlfriend to everyone, his friends, his family, some of his closer co-stars. But as he sat across from you at the restaurant, he realised he hadn’t actually asked.

He valued communication, he thought he was pretty good at it. But he’d settled into such a comfortable settlement with you that it had slipped his mind entirely. You didn’t mind. You were on the same page as him.

You referred to him to those closest to you as your boyfriend. You weren’t sitting around, desperately waiting for him to ask you to be his girlfriend, if that’s how you felt you would have asked him before you got to this point.

The two of you were doing what you usually did, you ordered a few different things with the intention of sharing, and Mike, as usual, was way more interested in what you had picked than he had.

You were giggling across the table at him, watching the way the breeze from the window by your table kept blowing his hair into his mouth. .”Here,” you took the scrunchie from your own hair and stood up, coming to a rest behind him.

He tilted his head back - good for him, he could see your face; bad for you, you couldn’t grab all his hair - while you worked and after a second you’d tied his hair up out of his face.

You moved to return to your seat, but he half-lifted himself from his chair to make sure he got to kiss you before you left. “Thank you, honey,” he said softly. Your thumb rubbed his cheek with a soft touch.

“‘s okay,” you mused, looking at him. He loved the look you got in your eyes when you were fully concentrated on his face, he wondered if he got the same look when he saw yours. “You look cute.”

“Says you,” he mumbled, looking down at your outfit. He could tell you’d put in extra effort, he wanted you to know it hadn’t been for nothing. “Y’look so pretty today, can’t believe I get to be the one here with you.”

You giggled, preening under his thoughtful gaze. You could feel your cheeks growing warmer, but you made yourself not look away from him. “Yeah?”

He turned his head and kissed the palm of your hand. “Can’t believe I haven’t asked you to be my girlfriend properly,” he sounded so positively disappointed that you couldn’t help but giggle. “Don’t laugh at me, it’s embarrassing.”

You giggled a little bit harder. “Oh, baby,” you let your thumb brush his lips, soaking in the way he kissed the pad of the finger. “Can’t be embarrassed, I didn’t even realise.” Mike hummed in question. “Don’t know,” you shuffle in place. “in my head you’ve been my boyfriend for like six months.”

“Thank god,” Mike laughed, letting his head drop. “Quick, sit down, I need to ask you to be exclusive so I can tell people that I did.”

You pause for a second before nabbing the fork on his plate, scooping up a piece of chicken before sitting back in your chair. “Go on, then, boyfriend.” You take a bite. “Get it over with, I’m hungry.”

THREE. december 2017

You were curled into Mike’s side when you got the text. You didn’t usually look at your phone when the two of you were together, but he was watching a documentary about something that didn’t interest you, while you were reading a book on your phone.

He had his hand sitting on the back of your neck, knuckles brushing a line from the nape to the top of your shoulder. It was one of your costars from an earlier project, sending you a link.

“LMAOO not people”

It was a People magazine article, one that instantly had you rolling your eyes. Mike sensed your shift in mood and laid his palm flat on the curve of your shoulder. “Okay?”

“People says we’ve been together since…” you scrolled through the article.” “October last year,” you snickered.

“Cant believe you didn’t tell me.” Mike let his head fall back against the sofa. “I wish,” he said as an afterthought.

“You didn’t even know me back then,” you pointed out.

Mike leaned forward and kissed your temple. “Still,” he said, concretely no but with supreme amounts of gentleness. “I’m sure I would’ve wanted you with great desperation.”

You and Mike had gone through conversations before about revealing your relationship to the public. You had little to no intentions of doing that, especially not so soon. But you’d wanted to manage expectations.

You’d become famous young, not as young as some, you’d only been twenty when you landed your first major role. You’d done principal photography during your summer break in college, working towards getting your degree, and by the time you graduated you had two feature films and one golden globe nomination under your belt.

You’d had a college boyfriend at the time, it had ended naturally, not without pain, but not as a result of your blossoming career. The magazines had eaten it up, though, with all sorts of speculations.

You didn’t want that again. You didn’t owe them anything. And you were so grateful that Mike seemed to share the sentiment. You were so grateful to your fans but you knew at the end of the day that they didn’t own you, which is why you were not above lying to them to keep them out of your life.

Especially when the comments of the post were already filled with dozens of suggestions to who it could be. Not when your friends, your coworkers, or random strangers who hadn’t done anything other than be someone people thought you might like if you met them, we’re getting their personal lives dug into in order to confirm a suspicion that a stranger had about you.

Not when you were curled up in the arms of one of the kindest most charming men you’d ever known, one that you might even want to spend the rest of your life with. He definitely didn’t deserve this, and neither did you.

So, you went into your camera roll and found a selfie you’d sent to one of your friends a few days earlier. You typed up a short sentence and then hit post on your Instagram story without thinking too hard about it.

When you showed it to Mike he smiled endearingly. “Aw man,” he mumbled, pressing his face to the crook of your neck. “Can’t believe you didn’t tell me we broke up.”

FOUR. march 2018

Days on set were long, they were often exhausting, and they were where you’d thrive.

You’d finally wrapped after thirteen hours, and the first thing you did when you got your phone out of your trailer was to text Mike.

He was in New York still, but you guys had been speaking as often as you could. With him three hours in front of you, it often ended up in the two of you just missing each other. Mike had texted you four hours earlier while you’d been filming.

You look pretty here.

It’s a Vanity Fair video that you filmed about a month ago with one of your costars. It was a movie about love, being in love, loving people, loving places, loving time. Your character was the main romantic love interest to the main character, and she was one of your favourite characters that you’d ever played. A young woman who finds love in her career, love in her family, and eventually begins giving it to the main character. You and your costar had become very close, and you were talking candidly to them in the video about your experience with love.

Mike had sent you a screenshot of the video, where you’re smiling across to your costar. It had been a simple question they’d asked; have you ever been in love.

Now, you couldn’t say blatantly, “yes, I have a boyfriend.” And you couldn’t say that for two reasons. Number one, you and Mike had been so careful to the point where you didn’t even think your fans knew that the two of you were aware of each other, let alone that his tongue had been in your mouth.

And number two was that you hadn’t actually told Mike that you loved him. You did, god you did. You probably would have told him months ago if things were more normal. If you both worked 9 to 5s, you lived primarily in the same city, you could go on dates and pull him over to the side of the sidewalk, interrupting him mid-sentence to kiss him.

Unfortunately, you’d spent months apart, and while you spoke multiple times a day, at least through texts, it felt like not the right time.

You try to brush off your smile as you reply to him. Stop ittt you’re giving me an ego <333. In that exact moment, you know what you’d been spewing some media trained answer that avoided mentioning your partner but still felt authentic. “I’m just really glad that I spent most of my early twenties trying to find myself before trying to find someone else, I guess.”

Mike took a moment to reply. Guess you didn’t find me :(

You giggle as you finish changing back into your own clothes out of the costume you’d just been wearing, ready to head home now that your last scene of the day had concluded. Nope! You sought me out 100% I actually have no idea who you are.

That time the reply was instant. This is awkward then. What else is instant is the knock on your trailer door, the way you wrap your arms around him once you’d thrown open the door, and the knowledge that you’re going to tell him that you love him.

FIVE. september 2018

Mike knows that most people are more nervous to meet their girlfriend’s parents than he currently is, and ironically that actually does make him nervous.

It wasn’t really his first time meeting them, he’d spoken to them on the phone before and he’d even texted your mom a couple of times when you’d asked him to. You’ve been his girlfriend officially for almost an entire year, but the two of you both agreed that you felt you’d been together since July of the year earlier. That was over one whole year together. Even if your parents didn’t like him - which, based off the amount that not only he’d spoken to them, but you’d talked about him, seemed almost impossible - it wasn’t going to be the be all or end all.

But he wanted your mom’s birthday brunch (of which she was very serious about) to go well as his first official family event that he attended as your boyfriend.

The two of you were getting ready at his place, as you do most days that you’re in New York. You spend maybe two or three months in your home state and as you and Mike are together for longer and longer, you spend as much time together as you can. Mike had not only let you spend every second you could at his apartment, he’d actively encouraged it.

You’re wearing an outfit he’s seen on you a hundred times, standing in front of his bathroom mirror as he ducks in to grab his phone. He stops behind you, watching you apply mascara, and places both his hands on your shoulders.

“Love you,” you say absent-mindedly, trying to focus on not stabbing yourself in the eye.

He squeezes your shoulders and kisses the back of your neck, the closest part he can reach. “Love you more. I’m ready to head out whenever you are.”

You lean back so your face is no longer just inches from the mirror. “Reservation’s at 11 so we should probably leave soon,” you say. “Give me five or so minutes.”

You let him hold your hand the entire way to the restaurant, knowing exactly how nervous he is. He’s a grown man, he knows your mom already loves him, but he appreciates that you don’t say any of this as he follows you into the restaurant.

Your mom is already there, with two seats beside her that Mike knows are reserved for you, and she leaps out of her chair at the sight of you. You greet her with a hug and a happy birthday, having let Mike hold the gift so he felt less like he was coming empty handed (you’d bought it together). The second you’re out of her path, she’s coming for him. “Oh, it’s so lovely to finally get to meet you!” She’s gushing over him and he’s trying not to look embarrassed in front of you.

He fits right in with your family, sitting on your left hand side while you sit pride of place beside your mom. He gets caught up in one of your mom’s friend’s conversations (“Oh I just adore Broadway, what’s it like?”) and that’s when your mom takes the opportunity to lean over and whisper over her bellini to you.

You lean in so you can hear her without much strain.

“I’ve never seen you look this happy.”

You beam back at her.

SIX. november 2019

You’re thinking of selling your California apartment.

You know it’s probably a bad idea, and that because you spend so much time in LA, it’s good to have a place to call home. But you also feel like it’s keeping you tied to the west coast. That you’re more likely to spend more time in California if you have a place there, and that’s not something that you want anymore.

You’ve been in California for the last nine months, it’s been longer than that since you’ve seen your family, your friends, or your boyfriend. You missed your two-year anniversary because you spent the day on set and Mike wasn’t able to fly out due to his work schedule.

You have your co-stars, people you spent months with every day that you genuinely enjoy being around - one of them you even worked with on a past project, you spend a lot of your free time with them between takes - but it’s not the same.

And now you’re done. You have over seven months until press from this movie begins and then you have to start working again. Normally, you’d stay in California while you looked for another project to latch onto, but that wasn’t what you wanted to do.

You missed Mike, plain and simple. He was in New Jersey filming a movie, but that’s about as far away as he’d be if he was in New York. You knew of plenty of actors who didn’t live in LA and still made it work just fine, and as far as home states went, you could definitely have done worse than New York.

“I think if it’s something you want to do you should look into it.” You’d called your boyfriend to have him either talk you into or out of it, but frustratingly all he’s done is point out that it’s your apartment and that he’d be kind of an asshole if he pushed his opinion on your assets onto you.

“I want your opinion,” you let out a dramatic sob, sitting at your kitchen counter. Your phone is on speaker while you’re on your laptop, answering emails.

Mike laughs, it’s crackly through the phone but you know the ins and outs, the layers of breath. “My opinion is that you should do what feels right for you, and I’ll back you up no matter what.”

“You’re annoying,” you grumble, changing tabs to instead look through your camera roll. You had a few days left to post one of your monthly photo dumps, something you much preferred to posting consistently. There was one photo that your camera roll had put in the forefront, of you at dinner with Mike and two of your mutual friends to celebrate his 27th birthday. You’d taken the photo almost eleven months earlier, and hadn’t done anything with it, but you did think you looked cute.

“I love you,” he offers instead.

You hum in response, bringing up the photo. “Is it weird if I post a photo from your birthday dinner? You’re not in it, obviously.”

He laughs at your bluntness. “Right, because why would I be in it? It’s only my birthday.”

That brings you out of it. “No, wait,” you giggle. “Just cause I don’t want them to know that it’s your dinner, idiot.”

Mike groans. “I was gonna ask when you next are coming home but I actually don’t care anymore about it.”

“I’ll forgive you if you tell me what to do about my apartment.”

“Forgive me?”

“Fine, I love you or whatever.”

Mike laughs again, and you don’t even notice the crackles. “Or whatever.”

SEVEN. november 2019

You don’t think you’ve laughed this hard in a while.

“I’m sorry,” she moans, leaning on your shoulder.

You’re with one of your closest friends, sitting on your sofa, almost crying with laughter. You’d been staying with her while the sale of your California place was going down, with every intention of moving back home to New York after it was done. She’d commented on your yearly photo set, talking about a photo of you and your mom, and you’d realised exactly where people’s minds would go.

“No,” you giggle, “I was the one who decided to be messy and post the photo.” You’d posted a photo that had been taken of you and Mike when he’d come to visit you on set the year earlier. Everyone knew it was old, you’d thought it was funny, and sure you had probably revealed a little bit too much about your relationship, but Mike had thought it was funny too, so that was enough for you.

Your favourite part, though, was that not a single person had commented, tweeted, messaged you asking who he was, if he was your boyfriend, or what was happening. You hadn’t seen a single person give a fuck.

The two of you had been sneaking around like teenagers and literally no one had cared, so Mike had allowed you to be a little messy on your Instagram feed.

“If I’m the reason you and Mike get doxxed you can feel free to post any blackmail you have of me,” she promises. You can tell she feels awful about the possibility of having just exposed your multi-year long relationship, but if you’re honest you think it’s kind of funny.

You wave her off. “No, I guarantee no one even cares. Worst case scenario someone asks, you just tell them you were talking about the photo of me and my mom, it’s so fine.”

The reason that you’d posted that photo now was because when it had been taken, things were definitely too new to be making hints towards it, and you would have posted a more recent picture but that was literally the only one of the two of you you could fine.

And the best part was while all this was happening, so blatantly obvious to everyone who knew, you still got so many comments, dms - fucking interview questions - asking if you had a boyfriend, and every single time you’d either dodge it or outright say no.

Your phone vibrated; a text from Mike.

Rachel told me she hasn’t seen a single tweet about it and if anyone would have seen it it would be her.

yeah i run a stan account of you and haven’t put my phone down in 8 years - rachel :))))) She sends an entire row of kisses with hers.

You’d met his costar a few times, only over the phone, and he sent you pictures of the two of them together on set often. You heart her message, giving his a thumbs up and knowing that she’d appreciate that.

“See, it’s fine.” You show your friend.

She breathes an audible sigh of relief. “In my defence you did post the photo.”

EIGHT. june 2020

The plan had been in the works for six months before it got derailed. Your California apartment had officially been sold, and you were set to move in to Mike’s place until you settled back in. Once things had calmed down with work for the two of you, you were going to start looking for your own place together.

You’d ended your lease in your New York place, you had all of your stuff - not that you carted much around with you anyway - most of the furniture you had came with the place, and you’d donated or sold most of it. You had been living off of display furniture and minimal decorating, knowing that wherever it was would sit vacant most of the time anyway. This was going to be it, where you finally started building a life, and you’d be doing it with Mike.

And then the country had gone into lockdown and, after a very lengthy conversation, the two of you had decided to relocate back to Columbus, Ohio, where he had a place for when he went to visit family.

It had been a fast move, but you’d planned for every thing that you possibly could have. Your family was safe, in New York, and you knew that was the best place for them to be. Your dad had an autoimmune disorder, so you knew that even if you were living in the city you wouldn’t be able to visit them much anyway. After three years with Mike, spending most of your relationship states away, you couldn’t let him leave without coming with him.

So, there the two of you were. In Mike’s house in Ohio, one that was entirely familiar to him and somehow, it felt that way to you as well. Like you knew him so well that anything he knew was something you instinctively understood.

Despite how long you’ve known Mike, how long you’ve loved him, you feel a bit like you’re taking over his space. Like when he moves something to make room for one of your trinkets that you’re minimising him in his own home.

He doesn’t let you think that for long. Sometimes you’ll come into your shared bedroom and find him rearranging his bookshelf so your books fit too, moving his Grammy to a shelf where there’s enough room for it to sit beside your awards, changing the sheets to a set that you’d picked out.

You’ve been a successful working actor for the last eight years now, for almost five of them you’ve forgotten what it’s like to go outside and not worry that you’re going to be spotted.

Sure, when you go outside now, you’re masked and there’s less people outside to recognise you. But to the people you do run into, you’re not an actor to them, not a celebrity, not anything. You’re Mike’s girlfriend.

You can understand how that’s frustrating, you are your own person, but after three years of being together but constantly apart, you’re okay with your neighbours knowing you simply as Mike’s girlfriend.

Now that you’re always in the house your screentime goes way down, you don’t need to text him anymore. All of the things that had you stressed and anxious to leave the house for have changed. And of course the state of the world is by no means good, but if everything is going to be happening anyway, you’re glad that you’re able to be with him during it.

NINE. october 2020

You had become a bit of a homebody in the 9 months that you’d been living in Ohio. You only ever left the house when Mike did, and you didn’t go with him every time. Mike can tell it’s starting to wear on you a little bit.

So, in an effort to pick yourself up a bit more, you’ve started doing all the grocery shopping. You and Mike make a list together so as to not give you all the mental load with it, but you walk down the few blocks to the small general store.

It’s convenient, a nice place, with a pharmacy attached to one side and a bakery on the other. Sometimes you take Austin and the girl who works at the bakery puts a bowl down for him while you go in and get your medication.

Sometimes you drive, when you have the aching exhaustion that only comes with being sad for hours on end, or when it’s raining, but the fresh air and just the act of being outside was usually enough to make you feel better.

It was late, and the pharmacy was closing soon when you realise you’d forgotten to pick up your medication, so it’s a no brainer that you’ll zip down and grab it while Mike makes dinner.

You’ve slowly started setting down roots here, the shop assistants know your name and your prescription, they know you and Mike have officially moved into the mostly vacant house a few streets away, and they know that you seem like you’re maybe not always doing the best, because they’re always extra kind to you when you need it.

You like the domesticity. Sitting on the kitchen counter while goes through the fridge, telling you what to write down. Walking his dog - Austin absolutely loves you, which Mike did tell you is normal for most people - or holding his hand with his spare one on the leash.

You’ve been really tired lately, and despite the fact that it’s meant to be your time to be by yourself and get fresh air, you find yourself in the kitchen, arms around your boyfriend’s waist. “Please?” You ask.

Mike’s stirring something cheesy on the stove. You can smell it behind the wall of his cologne, the smell of wood and cinnamon. “Dinner’s almost ready,” he laughs and you feel the vibrations where your cheek is pressed to his back. “It’ll be cold by the time we get back.”

Your voice is small, and he knows he has zero intention of actually saying no to you, but he’s wondering if you’ll change your mind given a little bit of coaxing.

“We have a microwave.” He wouldn’t be able to hear you if you weren’t so close to him.

He loves you, and he’s also not blind. He can see you’re struggling. He likes to think he knows exactly when to give you space, and when you need him there. He puts the spoon down on the cutting board he has beside the stove and turns off the gas. “Okay,” he says comfortingly.

You brighten, and he feels you stand up straighter. “You’ll come with me.”

Mike doesn’t even pretend to think about it this time. “Of course I will.”

TEN. february 2021

Press was finally happening for your project that you had filmed all the way back towards the end of 2019, and with that came your first ever zoom interview. It was a bit awkward, you’d never really liked doing press much face to face but now online it was worse.

You and Mike had both found it a bit weird. He’d done a bit more of it in 2020 than you had, so you’d asked if he’d be in the room where possible to help ease your nerves.

You were in your bedroom, set up at the designated Work Spot. You and Mike had made an agreement, no work was to be done outside of the Work Spot. It was the only thing that stopped it bleeding into your everyday life, especially now that you were working from home.

Mike was out of frame so you could still see him, sitting in the corner reading a book. He’d glance up at you every single time you looked at him, like he could feel that you needed him.

Things were going well, it wasn’t a standard interview with an interviewer, but rather you’d been given a list of questions that the group of you took turns asking the others and then answering yourself.

There was a bit there where you knew you had a note written down about something important, but you’d written it on Mike’s phone. It was the only one near you at the time, and you were actively regretting it now.

You muted yourself on your computer and tried to subtly gesture for him. He notices you immediately and comes to stand right beside him.

“Can I grab your phone really quick?” He hands it over.

“You okay?” He asks, wary of the camera he’s standing just outside of frame of.

You unlock his phone and open up his notes app, trying to find what you’re doing. Mike didn’t have a phone case until you met him, but you’d cajoled him into a clear on“Did you…” you hum. “Did you move my note?”

You handed Mike back his phone and told him what he’s looking for and he scrolled for a second. “No?” He frowned. “Uh…” he bites his lip. “Oh wait, I cleared out a bunch of stuff hang on.”

You can hear everyone else, so you know no one has clocked your absence yet. “Found it,” he hands you back his phone and pulls up the one. “This one?”

“Love you,” you say in lieu of an answer. He gives you a look that makes a smile worm its way onto your face.

Mike goes to sit back down as you skim through your note, ready to have your talking points ready. “Love you,” he calls back.

When it’s eventually your turn to answer, you turn your microphone back on like nothing ever happened. And your costars, who all knew everything were was to know about exactly who you’d been talking to, all kept their mouths shut too.

ELEVEN. august 2021

The material of your dress was scratching his skin, but Mike couldn’t seem to mind when you were so deliriously happy. In one hand you had a glass of champagne and in the other a beautiful bouquet of flowers that you’d snatched from the air after it had left the hands of your childhood best friend.

People had been giving him knowing looks about it since then, upturned smirks and elbows to his ribcage. Mike laughed it off. The two of you were good, and he knew that you weren’t the type of girl to expect a proposal just because she caught the bouquet.

Over the course of the night he had stood by, chatting idly with another group of plus ones. He’d met your best friend countless times, but there was no denying that he would not have been invited if he hadn’t been with you for the last four years. He was just happy that you seemed to be having a good time.

Eventually, you staggered over to him, wrapping your arms around his neck. You weren’t drunk, didn’t need to be, you were simply so elated to not only be able to leave the house without feeling anxious but also to be able to celebrate your best friend getting married.

“You okay, sweetheart?” He chuckled, your nose pressed to his adam’s apple.

You hummed. “Yeah. Tired. Happy. Miss you,”

He ran his hand along the back of your dress, cringing at the material. “‘M right here.”

The night was winding down, it was out in a big greenspace that they’d rented, the sun had well and truly set. You were basking in the glow of the massive outdoor lamps they’d set up, and they bathed you in a golden hue.

“Thank you for coming with me,” you said genuinely. “I’m really happy.”

You were swaying on the spot slightly to the faded jazz playing in the background, and he let his arms envelope you, pulling you impossibly close to him. “Of course, baby,” he’s beaming wide, his voice low and soft. You can hear how happy he is.

It’s your first time being back in New York since you left, your longest stretch away from your home state in your whole life. The two of you have started looking for work again now that things are starting to open up. Mike’s riding the high of his West Side Story performance, he’s been getting offers since it came out. He hasn’t taken any of them, though, instead focusing on smaller things that he likes more. The TV show he’d spent a while filming in Texas had been cancelled, which was a shame because you really enjoyed watching TikTok edits of him in that.

Instead, he’d been waving off scripts his agents sent him. He’d been asked to do a screen test in a movie in the UK, but he didn’t seem to interested in it. The most interesting thing about it was that his screen test was apparently with Zendaya, so you’d encouraged him to go just to meet her.

Things are picking up again. Your agent’s sending you offers and auditions and after two years of not being on set you’re itching to get back.

But, getting back meant going back.

You’d settled in Columbus. You didn’t want to leave, but you and Mike both knew that you’d have to go back to New York.

It was something that you’d been talking about for a while, getting another place in New York. You’re fortunate enough that it’s something you’re able to afford, and it seems like a good idea. It doesn’t need to be discussed tonight, though.

Instead, you ask him quietly, “Are we ever gonna get married?”

Mike mused, “Do you want to?”

You’re playing with the longer strands of hair on the back of his neck. “I think I might. With you.”

“Yeah?” He asks. He feels so warm inside there’s glee practically pouring from him.

“Not right now, though,” you admit. “I think I want more of a career before I’m willing to become known as someone’s wife.” Mike knows exactly what you mean, and that even though you eventually want to be his wife, that regardless of what you’ve accomplished, from that moment on there will be people who know you exclusively as ‘Mike Faist’s wife.’ At this point in time, you’re not even known as his girlfriend, a fact that the two of you enjoy.

“You just let me know,” he hums. “I’m ready whenever you are.”

You’ve been together almost four and a half years now and still no one knows. You don’t really need people to.

You kiss his jaw and reach down to take off your heels, complaining about your feet. He takes them from you and watches as you make your way back towards your friends. He knows he’s going to ask you one day, and he knows you’ll say yes. The two of you know just how much you love each other. You don’t need anyone else to just yet.

TWELVE. november 2021

So, a new arrangement has been reached. You n’t living in New York permanently but you have a lease on a place together. You’re back to doing live press, with the movie finally being shown in theatres. To be completely honest, you’re pretty much done with press on this movie. When you were cast in it three years ago, you didn’t expect that you would still be doing it.

Mike is sympathetic but amused. They haven’t organised the screen test for that one movie yet but that’s because the director was working on another project and the one Mike had been scouted for had been pushed back for a short period.

Sometimes companies will send you a car to come to your interview, but you take the subway home. Mike comes with you most times, more than happy to come tag along and sit in a room with your stuff and bring you your water bottle between shoots.

“Thank you, baby,” you tell him genuinely the fourth time he does it. He kisses your forehead. “You didn’t have to come with me, I appreciate you.”

He hums as if the idea hadn’t occurred to him. “I need to earn my keep somehow, I’ve been your stay at home boyfriend for like two years.”

You giggle around the straw of your water bottle, softening at the way he reaches to take it from you. “And your services have been appreciated and they will be missed when you inevitably book again.”

It’s not something that you expect to be so comforted by. The knowledge that wherever you’re living - Ohio, New York, California, wherever, even if you’re in different states - that you just love being around him. No matter how much time he spends with you, he doesn’t get sick of you, you don’t get sick of him.

You’re infinitely happier when he’s within arms reach than when he’s not.

“Only book I care about is the one I’m reading over there,” he leans in to kiss you briefly. The director of the shoot gives out the five minute warning to roll into the next section, Mike takes your phone and water bottle and heads back to his corner.

It’s almost comedic, the way that the producer immediately starts the next section with asking you “Do you have a celebrity crush?”

You have to make a conscious effort to not look over at Mike, even though you know he’s watching you.

“Uh,” you laugh awkwardly, “I don’t really have one.”

Your coworkers’ faces are stone, and you don’t know if that make you want to laugh more or not. You keep your eyes directed straight at the barrel of the camera and you know everyone’s going to see how uncomfortable you are.

“I guess having one when…” you struggle to find the right words, “when you are where I am in life, is just kind of weird,” you laugh again. “It feels wrong, I don’t know.”

You finally let your gaze land on your boyfriend. He’s smiling at you, and you calm immediately knowing that even once you’re out of this building, back on the train to your one bedroom, your hand in his, sharing earbuds, he’ll be there.

THIRTEEN. april 2022

“Tell me again, what she said,” your feet are in Mike’s lap. You have people over, and you can’t imagine being happier. Your apartment is bustling, a charcuterie board that you are very proud of on the kitchen counter. You still have New Years decorations up, and there’s music playing. Mike got back from his screen test a week ago, and you’re revelling in his presence again.

Mike takes a sip of his drink and moves so he’s resting his arm on your calf. You have a few of your friends sitting on the sofas around you, hanging on to every word. “She told me to tell you-”

You interrupt him, too excited “She brought me up!” You giggle over your champagne.

Mike giggles, the side of his mouth pinching up with his smile. “Zendaya wanted me to tell you that she had just seen your most recent movie, and that she thought you were really good in it.”

You flail back so you’re resting on the arm of a friend. “Zendaya knows my name.”

One of your friends puts his drink down on the coffee table. “Don’t you guys have a Grammy in your bedroom, why are you surprised by this?”

“It’s not mine,” you roll your eyes, tipsy off the champagne and drunk on the party. “I would never take credit for my wonderful boyfriend’s accomplishment.”

“She’s taken so many selfies with it,” the friend you’re leaning on chimes in.

Mike laughs and almost as if by magnet you’re trying to get closer to him. Your head comes up beside his, resting on the wall behind the couch, his hand on the back of your neck.

You don’t even know what you’re celebrating. Just being able to have people over, having a space to have them in. Having someone you’d want to host a party with.

“Okay, and?” you shoot back. “You’ve taken selfies with me.”

He’s kissed the hollow of your collarbone, his hair, getting longer now, tickling your neck. You love him so much, you’re surprised there’s enough room in the apartment for all your guests with how much space it’s taking up.

The apartment itself is obviously a new development in your life, but the area isn’t. Just two streets over is the apartment you were living in when you met Mike. Barely furnished, not decorated, not lived in.

A place so physically close to the room you’re sitting in with a group of people you love more than life, but that couldn’t have possibly been further away. Now you have family pictures on the wall, you have his toothbrush right beside yours. You have a ticket to the show of Dear Evan Hansen you went and saw right when you two got together, sitting front row in the audience and marveling in the fact that the man onstage liked you, pride of place in your clear phone case. He has a ticket stub from that time a theatre in Columbus was playing a rerun of your feature film debut and he’d dragged you with him to go see it wedged in his. You have a delicate chain around your neck with an M on it so well hidden it might as well be lost to legend, he has your first initial hanging on his keychain.

It’s been five years, three lived-in states, several hundred shared meals, and an apartment just two streets away, but as you laugh at a story someone is telling, your cheek pressed against Mike’s, you’ve never felt closer to home.

#mike faist #mike faist x reader #mike faist fic #art donaldson x reader #art donaldson #challengers

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ssa-danhotchner · 2 days ago

Text

Happier | Aaron Hotchner x fem!reader

summary: Years after their breakup, y/n struggles with seeing Hotch move on with his new partner, Beth, while still working alongside him every day.

cw: use of y/n, past relationship, heartbreak, angst?, themes of moving on, Haley mentioned. let me know if I missed anything

wc: 1k

note: English isn't my first language so please be kind. I had the entire sour album stuck in my head. Please give me some ideas to write

The sound of laughter echoed faintly through the bullpen as the last of the team packed up for the night. You sat at your desk, staring blankly at the screen of your computer. The words of your report blurred together, the glowing monitor casting pale light over your exhausted face. You didn’t even know why you were still there; everyone else had gone home.

Everyone, except for him.

Aaron Hotchner.

It had been years since the two of you had ended things, but the wound never seemed to fully heal. Time had dulled the ache, sure, but it hadn’t erased the memories.

You could still see the way he’d smile when it was just the two of you, the way his hand would linger on yours longer than necessary, the way he whispered your name like it was the only word that mattered. Back then, it felt like you had something unshakable, something real. But life had a way of pulling people apart, and for you and Aaron, it had been no different.

It wasn’t a dramatic breakup. There were no screaming matches, no accusations hurled in the heat of the moment. It had been quiet, almost agonizingly so. You’d both known it was over before either of you said the words. The demands of his job, his grief over Haley, and the ever-present weight of being a single father—it was too much for him to bear. And you, despite loving him more than anything, hadn’t been enough to bridge the growing gap between you.

“I can’t give you what you deserve,” he’d said that night, his voice heavy with regret. “You deserve more than stolen moments and half-hearted promises.”

And that had been it.

You had cried, of course. For weeks, maybe months. But you told yourself you’d be fine, that you’d move on. You tried to convince yourself that his words weren’t true, that you could have made it work. But deep down, you knew he was right.

Still, knowing it was the right thing didn’t make it any easier.

Now, years later, you had settled into a new normal. Working alongside him every day was a constant reminder of what you’d lost, but you’d learned to compartmentalize. You had to. There was no room for personal feelings when lives were on the line.

Or at least, that was what you told yourself.

Your eyes drifted to his office, where the light was still on. Through the glass, you could see him sitting at his desk, his phone pressed to his ear. His face softened as he spoke, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

You knew who he was talking to.

Beth.

The name tasted bitter on your tongue, though you hated yourself for it. She was kind, warm, and good for him. You’d never met her formally, but you’d heard enough to know she made him happy. And wasn’t that what you wanted? For him to be happy?

But it wasn’t that simple.

Because every time you saw him with her—every time you heard him mention her in passing—it felt like someone was twisting a knife in your chest. You wanted him to be happy, but not like this. Not with her.

I hope you’re happy, but not like how you were with me.

The lyrics played on a loop in your mind, echoing your most selfish thoughts. You wanted to believe he still thought of you, that some small part of him missed what you’d shared. But the rational part of you knew better. Aaron Hotchner wasn’t the type to dwell on the past. He had moved on.

“Hey.”

His voice startled you out of your thoughts. You looked up to see him standing in front of your desk, his expression tinged with concern.

“You’re still here?” he asked, his brow furrowed.

“I could say the same to you” you replied, forcing a small smile.

He didn’t return it. “You should go home. It’s late.”

“I will” you said, though you had no intention of leaving just yet.

For a moment, neither of you spoke. The air between you felt heavy, weighed down by all the things left unsaid.

“Are you okay?” he asked finally, his dark eyes searching yours.

You hesitated. “Yeah. Just tired, I guess.”

He nodded, but you could tell he didn’t quite believe you.

“Goodnight, y/n” he said softly, his voice carrying an undercurrent of something you couldn’t quite place.

“Goodnight, Hotch”

You watched him walk away, the sound of his footsteps fading into the quiet of the bullpen.

Once he was gone, you let out a shaky breath, the weight in your chest threatening to crush you. You hated how much power he still had over you, how his presence could unravel you so completely.

Leaning back in your chair, you closed your eyes, letting the memories flood in despite the pain they brought. You thought of the nights you’d spent tangled together, whispering secrets in the dark. You thought of the way he’d kiss your forehead before leaving for work, murmuring promises to come back to you.

And you thought of the way it all ended, the way he walked out of your life without looking back.

It wasn’t fair.

You wanted to move on, to let go of the love that still clung to you like a ghost. But every time you tried, you found yourself pulled back to him, to the man who had once been your everything.

You sighed, grabbing your bag and shutting off your computer. As you walked to your car, the night air was cool against your skin, but it did little to soothe the ache in your heart.

Sitting behind the wheel, you gripped the steering wheel tightly, fighting back the tears that threatened to spill over.

“I hope you’re happy,” you whispered to the empty car, your voice cracking. “But don’t be happier.”

The words hung in the air, a quiet confession to a love you could never fully let go of.

And as you drove away, the memories of him lingered, a bittersweet reminder of the love you once had—and the happiness you’d never find again.

#Spotify #criminal minds #aaron hotchner angst #aaron hotchner x y/n #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner #aaron hotch x y/n #aaron hotch x reader #angst #angst with a sad ending

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twstfanblog · 2 days ago

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Little curious, but what’s Yuu’s genuine reaction to Malleus’s overblot and the first part of chapter seven? Like up to the point they’re still in Lilias dream? Like a lot of people said that it’s basically impossible for Malleus to overblot considering how much magic he has, but it’s legitimately supposed to be ACTUALLY IMPOSSIBLE for Idia considering his curse and he did.

But then comes Lilias withdrawl from school, the going away party, Malleus suddenly appearing with Silver, declaring he has a gift, Ortho yelling about an increase in blot, the students trying to fight Malleus and failing, Malleus’s signature spell, and maybe one of the last things Yuu sees before she are put into a magical sleep, is her date mates overblot before Yuu ‘wakes up’ in a dream

It's kind of funny in and out of context, honestly. Yuu basically crashed out during book 6. Like she was ripping panels and wiring out of shit to force open doors in STYX, home girl was NOT OK.

Book 7 is that X10. Literally Malleus overblots and she screams at him that he doesn't get to do this shit. Yuu's unknowingly and knowingly under a lot of mental strain and Malleus's overblot is just another two tons thrown on top of her. I've vaguely alluded to it and talked about it in private chats with mutuals, but my Yuu DOES have the prophetic dreams. She just doesnt remember them, and thats because Yuu is much more mentally aware in the dream scape.

There's story beat reasons for this. Because I also plan on Malleus trying to trap her in her own dream, but she fully rejects it. While Yuu's home life was far from ideal, she knows what her family was like and loved them anyway, anything different could never be accepted. But in an ideal world where everything is perfect and it's literally made for her happiness, the concept of loving but not LIKING your family isn't something Malleus could recreate properly. Yuu is happier in Twist, but she still holds a lot of fears about her situation and misses certain loved ones from her own world. The only way Yuu could have accepted her dream was a complete memory overhaul since her family trauma started basically when she was gaining long-term memory.

From what we see of the dreams, they're pretty standard 'What If' scenarios, and the characters arent really changed other than thinking one or two events went differently.

Yuu and Malleus will have a private chat in the void because Malleus genuinely does not understand why Yuu wouldn't want this perfected version of her family. Nor the false narrative that she always lived in Twist.

But during Lilia's dream, Yuu's just pushed down her own fears and emotions on the topic of Malleus's overblot and wants this to be OVER already. She is very 'Malleus, I love you, and your feelings are valid, but once this is over, I'm going to beat you to death with a laddle.'

#twisted wonderland #twst #disney twst #twst wonderland #yuu oc #valencia rambles

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rekino2114 · 2 days ago

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Okay, so after the wonderful Fami introducing her boyfriend to Yoru request I got to thinking. How about a sequel where after Asa and Yoru get a boyfriend, she decides to introduce her boyfriend to Fami and her boyfriend. I'd also like Fami to talk with Yoru, asking her if she gets what she was saying before about loving her own boyfriend more than anything in the world.

Yoru introducing fami to her boyfriend

This is a part 2 to this post

A/n:since there are two y/ns here, I will write (f)y/n whenever they're talking about fami's boyfriend and I will color their dialog differently, here's every dialog color to make it less confusing

Yoru=red

Asa=blue

Fami=white and pink

Y/n (asa and yoru's boyfriend)=white

(F)y/n (fami's boyfriend)=pink and white

Yoru didn't actually want to introduce you to fami that much at first. It's not that she didn't like her. They were sisters after all. it's more like she thought she was kinda weird, and with her threatening to kill her one of the last times they met, they didn't talk that much.

However, it seemed that you and fami's boyfriend were friends and you told him that yoru was your girlfriend and he told fami, which in turn made her tell yoru that she wanted to meet you. She reluctantly agreed, and that led to the 4 of you (5 if you count asa) walking in a restaurant to get to know each other

"It's nice to meet you, I'm famine but you can call me fami"

"Oh nice to meet you too"

You and the pink haired girl shook hands as she went back to eating her burger. When she finished her first bite, she looked at you again and started talking

"How did you and war met?"

"Oh well, she....appeared when me and asa were kissing and-"

"So you're dating asa too?"

"Yeah, is that a problem"

"No, not at all, I suppose it would be awkward otherwise, I was just curious about how my little sister managed to get a boyfriend"

Yoru scowled and looked at her sister who had resumed eating in the meantime

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"Your......situation makes it hard to talk to humans, and I didn't think you were the type to fall in love"

"W-what do you mean?"

"You want to kill every person you meet"

"You can't argue with her on that one"

"You're still here?"

"I just wanna make sure y/n isn't uncomfortable"

"No, I mean, why are you here? You have nothing to do with this conversation"

"Y/n is my boyfriend too"

"And I'm making him meet MY sister, you have no family for that anyway"

".........."

Your girlfriends mental conversation was interrupted by you elbowing yoru causing her to look at you angrily

"That was a low blow yoru"

"....what? it's the truth"

"You're not getting any kisses tonight"

"Wha- hey, no fair"

"Then don't be mean to asa"

"Tch, fine then, sorry asa"

"....i-it's fine"

Fami finished eating and continued staring at you. Her cold gaze was slightly unnerving, but her words reassured you

"......You're good for her"

"Eh?"

"War isn't always willing to apologize like that, I'm glad you're there for her"

"Oh thanks"

"You make it sound like I have no manners"

".....last week you turned the barista in a sword because she spelled my name wrong"

"That bitch deserved it, she even refused to apologize"

While you sighed, the famine devil continued to look at you and her sister, even if it was impossible to tell with her emotionless face. She was happy, happy that yoru finally found love with someone

"You have my blessing y/n"

"Eh?"

"What are you saying? You're not my mom"

"Yes, but as the older sister, I have to play that role. Y/n, you are allowed to marry war, and invite me and (f)y/n too, just make sure there's a lot of food"

Hearing this, both you and yoru blushed heavily with your girlfriend immediately starting to yell at her sister

"W-what the hell are you saying fami? We're not getting married!"

"Oh that's a shame, I was looking forward to it"

Yoru's blush grew even more as her voice lowered

"I-i mean not right now, maybe later- ughh what am I even saying, look we just didn't talk about it!"

"OK, keep me updated, me and (f)y/n are thinking about it too"

"......w-we are?......not that I mind"

You all finished your meals and walked outside. You and fami's boyfriend decided to have a talk while the horsemen spoke to each other

".....do you get it now?"

"What?"

"What I said before about loving my boyfriend more than anything, do you get it now?"

"I guess"

"You love y/n right?"

"Yeah"

"......would you kill someone for him?"

"Yeah, in a heartbeat, I already did actually"

"Then you understand what love feels like, isn't it wonderful?"

".......yeah, it's like what I feel watching humans slaughter each other but times 100"

"It's the same for me and food......I'm glad someone was there to make me feel that"

"......me too"

Fami and yoru both looked towards their boyfriends with a look of pure love on their faces, even if they were some of the most feared and powerful devils in existence, they could still feel love all because of them, and they were so happy about it

#chainsaw man x reader #chainsaw man #chainsaw man part 2 x reader #chainsaw man part 2 #chainsaw man 2 x reader #chainsaw man 2 #x reader #csm x reader #csm #yoru x reader #yoru x male reader #yoru #asa mitaka x reader #asa mitaka #fami x reader #fami #x male reader #male reader

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elizabethsnuts · 2 days ago

Note

OH MY GOD I SAW HOUSE MD IN YOUR RECENT POST AND I RAN TO YOUR ASKS😭

what about young or toddler daughter seeing house as her hero and really looking up to her dad. asking for verification if she’s doing it right and plays pretend as a doctor all the time with him as her patient.

Maybe she comes into work with him and everyone sees how soft he is with her and the sweet nicknames he has for her and is surprised (except cuddy who is use to it)

anyways…love your writing! you’re soooo talented:)

Baby House

Gregory House x Daughter!Reader

Summary: House takes you to work with him where you play doctors together.

A/N: I really hope you like this!! I find House being soft with a child so adorable!

———

As a person, House wasn’t exactly someone to look up to. As a doctor, of course, but as a person in general? Not so much. Unless you’re Chase that is. He was a jerk, he had a horrible bedside manner and was a general asshole, except to you of course. He was your daddy, in your eyes he was the best person in the entire world, the coolest guy ever. He was pretty cool in your defence, he was a world-renowned diagnostician, being able to figure out patients' mysterious illnesses with no explanation was pretty damn cool.

House had taken you to work with him, no one could stop him and Cuddy loved you so as much as she told House to stop, she never really did anything about it. You were Mini-House, a baby medical genius, or that’s what House called you because apparently, you were smarter than all his stupid team members.

You were getting pretty bored of just sitting in your chair while the others kept throwing out ideas of potential diagnoses for the patient. You wanted to play doctor, not listen to doctor. You let out a little huff, looking up at your dad who was standing by the whiteboard. “Daddy, play doctor?”

House looked down at you, nodding before looking up to the other three doctors in the room. “We can play doctor when someone says something that can actually fit the symptoms.”

Foreman crossed his arms, sighing. He was getting annoyed at House as always, especially when he kept shutting down their ideas. “Lupus.”

House just let out an exaggerated groan and you copied, throwing your little head back in annoyance. If there was one thing House taught you it was that it never was Lupus. He looked down at you, leaning on his cane. “Y/N, what is the diagnosis never?”

You let out another huff, looking at Foreman like he was an idiot. “Never lupus!”

House nodded, pointing to you. “See, even a 2-year-old knows more than you, morons.”

Chase spoke up, shrugging slightly. “You suggest lupus all the time!”

House rolled his eyes dramatically. “No, I don’t.”

You were getting more bored, so boring. You wanted to play doctors now. “Daddy! Doctors!”

House shooed the team off, telling them to go do a lumbar puncture on the patient. He brought you through the door to his office, handing you your doctor-play kit. “Alright, we can play now.”

You let out a happy giggle, you had taken Wilson’s doctor coat to really fit the doctor role. How was Wilson meant to say no to your adorable little face just wanting to play doctors so bad? He caved. You waited for House to lay on the floor, opening up your kit in the meantime, pulling out a plastic pretend needle.

“Shots!” You stated firmly, putting on your best ‘serious’ tone.

House looked to the side to where you were standing with the toy, he let out a mock-dramatic cry, shaking his head. “No shots.”

You tried to hold in your giggle, giving House a sympathetic pat on the head. “Shhh shh, it ‘kay. Just pinch.” You shoved the blunt top of the needle toy, pretending to give him the shot. You quickly whispered to him quietly, not wanting to break character too much. “Daddy, it right?”

House nodded, whispering back to you quietly “Perfect, good job, little lady.” The both of you quickly got back into character, patient and doctor. House made an exaggerated expression of pain to make you laugh, he held his arm like it was searing in pain. “Ow! That hurt! I could sue you, y’know.”

You let out a sigh, shaking your head and putting the needle back in the box. “Not legal issue.” You picked up a toy stethoscope, putting the ear pieces in your tiny ears and the chest piece on House’s chest. “Daddy, dis right?”

House smiled, gently moving the chest piece a little higher on his chest to where his heart was. “Yep, you got it. You’re very good at this, Doctor House.”

You smiled happily, taking the stethoscope off and putting it back in the kit. “Tanks! You all good, Daddy.”

House put a hand to his heart, turning over to you. “Are you sure, Doctor House? I think it might be exploding, there’s too much love in it, I think it’s bursting.”

You giggled softly, putting a hand on his chest. The both of you were oblivious to Foreman, Chase and Cameron standing in the doorway, as well as Cuddy. You hummed curiously, pretending to feel his heartbeat. “Hmm… how love there?”

House pretended that his heart was about to blow up. “Well… there’s this little girl, named Y/N. She makes my heart blow up! Can you believe it?”

You gasped in surprise, a big grin on your face. “Hey, dat me! How we fix?”

House smirked, immediately grabbing you in a tight hug. “I need a kiss! Right now! Before my heart bursts and explodes, you can lose your license for that y’know?”

You just giggled, hugging House tightly, burying your face in his shoulder. “All better!”

Meanwhile, in the doorway, the three diagnosticians were standing there with the most surprised looks on their faces. Foreman whispered to Cameron and Chase next to him. “I didn’t think it was humanly possible for him to be affectionate.”

Chase nodded in agreement, staring wide-eyed as House hugged you. “Did he take extra Vicodin?”

Cuddy just rolled her eyes in amusement, looking at the three of them. “Don’t get used to it, he’s only like that with her. He might fire you if he sees you.”

Cameron, Chase and Foreman stood for a second longer, before quickly scrambling off, no doubt going to have a long long discussion about this while testing the patient, just like they always did, gossiping in front of patients.

You smiled as you saw Cuddy, oblivious to the others who saw, not like you’d care. “Cuddyyyy!”

Cuddy smiled, walking into the office and looking down at you. “Hey, beautiful girl! Are you playing doctors again?”

You nodded, making a silly face at House who just made one back to you. “I save Daddy!”

House may have been the least affectionate and loving person, but not to you, you were the one that kept him sane, kept him going when it was hard. You were his daughter, as much as it surprised him to even hear himself say he had one.

#daughter!reader #gregory house x daughter!reader #greg house x daughter!reader #toddler!reader #gregory house x toddler!reader #greg house x toddler!reader #house md #gregory house #greg house #dr house

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tired-teacher-blog · 1 day ago

Text

Characters : Tattoo artist Aizawa/ Florist fem reader

Featuring : Eri/ Hizashi Yamada/ Nemuri Kayama/ Oboro Shirakumo/ Emi Fukukado

Warnings and Genre : Fluff/ Romance/ Smut and Angst in future chapters/ Multi Chaptered Story

Summary : In a desperate attempt to get closer to the tattoo artist dominating every speck of your brain, you decide to pay him a visit one evening as a client seeking his service. This encounter will prove to be the beginning of something much bigger between you two, but will this new found passion be enough to stand against the difficulties your future holds?

Notes : Loosely inspired by this/ Art below is by the wonderful @/ael-draw who gifted me this gorgeous piece.

Masterlist|Second Masterlist|Third Masterlist

Chapter Count : Part 1 • Part 2 • Part 3 • Part 4 • Part 5 • Part 6 • Part 7 • Part 8 • Part 9 • Part 10 • Part 11 • Part 12

_ "Thank you, have a lovely day." you bid the young couple goodbye and watch as they walk out of your shop, arm in arm while the girl held her beautifully wrapped present of lilies and dahlias to her chest.

A sight such as this one used to fill you with warmth and give you desire to work harder in order to see more of the happiness and love-filled-eyes of the people carrying the blooms for themselves or their loved ones.

Used to..

Yes used to, because as of recent, a sight such as this one has become no more than a reminder of your strained, so called "relationship" with the man you allowed yourself to fall head over heels in love with, and you hate yourself for that.

You hate yourself for not taking into account the possibility of his past coming back to hunt you both, you hate yourself for selfishly thinking that you could perhaps replace Eri's mother one of these days, and you especially hate yourself for not admitting the depth of your feelings when you had the chance, because truthfully, that would be the last thing he'd want to hear right now, it would only confuse and make things even harder than they already are for him.

You sigh heavily and look up at the ceiling, a snide smile curves your lips as you start thinking about the irony of it all.

You've always imagined the moment when you would finally say the words "I love you" to him, it was supposed to be perfect, just as you pictured, perhaps after one of your dates when he drops you off and kisses you goodnight, but instead of watching him walk back to his car, you would pull him by the arm and claim his lips again, deeper this time, catching him off guard and taking control, then -and only then- would you mouthe the words into the kiss before finally pulling back and watching the blinding smile illuminating his face as he whispers them back.

_ "Huh, that would have been beautiful but.." but truth be told, you no longer imagine that blinding smile, nor hear him whisper the words back, if anything, all you can see is hopelessness and sorrow on a shell of what that man used to be, because that's all what's left of him.

You pick up your phone and check your recent conversation to see if he has replied to your unanswered messages when you were lost in thought, but alas, he has not..

The decision is yours to make, you can either keep clinging to him and to your false hope of having things back to normal, or you can just let go and walk away so he could probably have another shot at happiness.

Both answers are nothing less than a death sentence to you, so maybe you should consider what's best for him and Eri instead.

You put down your phone and almost wince at the sight of your tattoo, as memories of how it came to be comes rushing back like a hurricane, it's what started it all, a once source of joy that is now but a painful reminder.

The little bells hanging at the entrance ring when swayed by the opening door of your shop, bringing you back to your senses as you prepare to greet your new customer, "hello and welco.." but the rest of the word gets stuck in your throat when you recognize the newcomer.

_ "Hello." It's her.

_ "Oh, Ms Fukukado.." what is she doing here again?

She offers you a smile and closes the door after herself before stepping inside, it has been a while since you last saw her which was during that fateful evening at your boyfriend's place, as a matter of fact, you haven't seen much of him either ever since, but that's beside the point..

_ "Can we talk? I know you're busy so it doesn't have to be now," she's only a few steps away from you now, her elegant presence is as overwhelming as ever, "but here is my number, you can give me a call whenever you get a chance and we'll meet for a coffee, please, it's important." and with that she waves you goodbye and vanishes just as quickly as she has appeared, leaving you standing stiffly in your spot, eyes wide open and lips slightly parted as you held her business card with a shaky hand, wondering if that really happened or if it was just a figment of your imagination..

_ "Hey beautiful."

Oh he's finally calling after more than a week of avoiding you, and hearing his soothing voice almost brings tears to your eyes.

_ "Hi.. Shouta, how are you?" you would actually like to curse at him, to yell and reprimand him for ignoring you the way he's been doing for days, but you cannot find it in yourself to do so, all the agony and confusion are now washed away with a simple greeting he mouthed from the other end of the phone.

_ "I've been terrible without you," he lets out a sigh, and you can almost imagine the tilt of his head on whatever surface he must be leaning against right now, "I'm sorry for everything, you were caught in the middle of what's happening and had to suffer through it all."

It's true, completely and utterly true, you feel powerless and shackled by the whole ordeal, like a caged animal..

_ "No don't say that, I'm totally fine I promise," oh the lies..

He remains quiet for a while, the only thing you could hear from his end is the sound of his deep breath, and you wonder if maybe he has caught your bluff.

_ "I want to see you tonight, can I visit you after work?" and he finally speaks again.

Your eyes widen at his request, it's what you've been waiting for in what seemed like forever, to the point that it ceased sounding possible, but now that it's finally happening, something is compelling you to refuse.

Perhaps you're afraid that seeing him again, will only make parting ways all that harder, and maybe it's because of the woman staring at you from across the table as you spoke to him, "can I.. call you later? I'm a little busy right now, I'm really sorry."

You instantly regret the answer as soon as you speak it, granted, it's more than he has done for your sake lately, but you still hate the way you worded it.

It has never been this way between you two, so maybe this is actually another sign that your time together should come to an end..

_ "Yes of course I don't mind, please take your time, we'll talk later." you cannot see his face, but you can clearly feel the pain in his voice, and with those last words of his, the line finally goes dead.

_ "It's him I see," she scoffs before crossing her legs and leaning more comfortably against her chair, "I appreciate you not telling him that you came to see me."

_ "Yeah, it's not a problem, but you still haven't told me what this is about." your heart is racing in extreme restlessness, no matter what she has to say, it can never be in your favor.

_ "I think you know what I want." she places her cup of coffee on its saucer with a loud clink.

_ "You want me to disappear from Shouta and Eri's life." you comment knowingly and watch as she slowly nods in agreement.

_ "Everyday I spend away from them is torture, do you have any idea how painful it is to watch your child grow from afar? To see the only man you've ever truly loved with another woman?"

It's strange, she doesn't seem as smug and derisive as she usually is, because right now, the look in her eye is almost.. pained?

_ "I'm sorry, but you're the one who abandoned both of them and disappeared without a trace, that was your decision not mine, so why do I have to suffer the consequences? Eri is your daughter and that's something that will never change, but Shouta.." you choke on your words and stop yourself before bursting in tears, you cannot understand your reaction because what she asked of you is exactly what you've been already considering, but only now has it finally sunk in, that that's probably where you're headed, and it's terrifying.

"I know I'm asking too much, but please understand that this is my child and her father for we're talking about, isn't it fair for us three to be together? If not for me and Shouta then at least for Eri, she deserves to have both her parents around."

It's a compelling point that you've been running away from for a while, but maybe it is time for you to face the reality and do what you must.

The woman in front of you seems sincere with her intentions, she came back to right her wrongs so what gives you the power to deny her that?

_"You're right, I will back off I promise."

To be continued..

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galaxymagitech · 3 days ago

Text

like fields of lavender swaying in the breeze

For @casscainweek

Day 1: Scars | Flowers

Summary: Cass does her makeup for her ballet performance. But the perfect girl she sees in the mirror looks more like a doll than anything else.

Characters: Cassandra Cain, Bruce Wayne

You can read it here or on AO3!

(Title is from The Ballerina by Marisa Webster.)

***

It’s all wrong. It’s all wrong.

The little bottle slips from Cass’s hand and spills all over the wood floor of Bruce’s room. Cass lets out a wail, sinking to the ground. Her shoulders curl in on her body and she clutches the thin fabric of her tank top.

It’s wrong. Why can’t she get it to look right?

This was supposed to be a good day. Cass was supposed to be happy, supposed to be spinning in a tutu, toes pointed, arms-like-wings, pirouette, arabesque, perfect. Cass was supposed to be perfect.

But she’s on her knees, her toes folded underneath like they always are when she’s sad and her eyes closed so that she doesn’t have to see her reflection in the mirror.

Cass has watched Barbara put on her makeup what must have been a hundred times. Moisturize, prime, foundation, conceal, set. Paint the lines onto her face, the shadows around her eyes, the black lashes that accent the green of Barbara’s eyes. So, Cass knows how to do makeup. But on her skin, it looks chalky and pale, the parts with makeup standing out from the parts without no matter how hard she tries.

That’s where Bruce finds her, crying on the floor of his room, hunched over the bottle of foundation. “Cass?” Cass turns to Bruce and reads the bewilderment in his stance, the tilt of his face, the—

She looks away. She doesn’t want to read Bruce right now. This day was supposed to be about her, about the focus of the moment and the curve of her spine and the tips of her toes. Her body, her mind, her spirit. Herself, with the audience shrouded in the background. No weapon. Just Cass.

And here she is, trying to paint over her scars, and it just looks—

“What’s wrong?” Bruce asks, crouching down next to her. His hand hovers over Cass’s shoulder, right where one of the bullet scars lies, and she shrinks away.

“Wrong,” Cass repeats. She doesn’t know how to explain this, how she’s doing everything right but it’s not working. She’s sure she’s doing everything right. She watched. She learned. Cass doesn’t make mistakes. “I—it’s wrong.”

“Are you trying to do your makeup?” Cass looks away. She’s sure that if she could see him, there would be pity. She doesn’t want pity. She wants to do it right. “Maybe…” Bruce swallows. “Maybe this could wait until after your performance?”

Cass shakes her head. This is for the performance. Ms. Landeau told her to cover up the scars for the stage. It needs—Cass needs to be perfect. She’s not perfect, so she has to make herself perfect. It’s so simple. Why doesn’t Bruce understand? Cass’s body is screaming not enough, fix me, make me perfect, and Bruce doesn’t see it. No one sees it except Cass.

So, she cries out again, hunching even further over and wrapping her arms around her stomach.

“Need to…” Her words are failing her. “Fix it. Fix me.”

“Cass, you aren’t bro—”

“No!” Bruce isn’t understanding. He thinks she means fix mind, fix self, but she means fix vessel. Fix body. She needs to look perfect for the stage, so the scars don’t distract the audience. Because Cass isn’t just dancing for herself—she’s dancing for them, too. She’s performing.

Just another kind of tool.

“I need—for the.” Her lips don’t form performance. Cass knows the word. It’s there in her head. But the coordination isn’t. “For the dance,” she tries, and thankfully, it comes out.

“You need makeup to dance?” Bruce asks. “For the stage?”

Cass nods, staring at the ground. The puddle of foundation is spreading. She should pick it up. She should—

“Okay,” he says. “Let me help you. What’s wrong?”

Cass throws up her hands. If she knew, she could fix it. But she doesn’t know, so it’s hopeless.

“Can you look at me?” Bruce asks.

Reluctantly, Cass turns towards Bruce. The care in his face is too much, so she quickly shuts her eyes against the storm of love. She can’t hold it in her chest. She’ll overflow. She needs a dam, and that dam is her eyes.

“Oh,” Bruce says. “Were you trying to use my makeup?” Hesitantly, Cass nods. “It’s too light for you,” he explains. Cass doesn’t understand. “Do you understand?”

Why does Bruce need to ask? Why can’t he read her confusion?

Cass shakes her head.

“The foundation needs to match your skin tone,” Bruce says. “This one matches mine, not yours. You’ll need a different foundation.” Oh. So Cass wasn’t doing it wrong. The makeup was wrong. Or—Cass was doing it wrong, because she was using the wrong makeup, but her mind hasn’t failed her. She had chosen Bruce’s makeup because he told her she could always go in his room unless it was locked, whereas her brothers might get mad. But she hadn’t realized that she couldn’t just use Bruce’s makeup—how was she supposed to know? “I’ll get Alfred to pick up some new makeup, alright? And then you can get ready for your performance. We’ve got time.”

Slowly, Cass nods. Bruce hands her some wipes to remove the makeup already on her skin, and she does so, rubbing the foundation away and taking that strange, awful texture with it. Bruce sits with her the whole time, telling her about how excited he is to go to her ballet performance and how he’s sure it’ll be amazing.

Eventually, Alfred brings a tray of brushes and makeups into the room. Cass sits cross-legged in front of Bruce, eyes closed. Slowly, he paints her face and neck and arms and shoulders and back, hiding Cass’s imperfections away. As he does her makeup, Bruce talks about getting ready for galas. Spending a summer at theater camp as a teenager, because Alfred wanted him to be more human. Learning to disguise himself as someone else with a few contours on his face.

“Okay, Cassie,” Bruce says. “You’re ready.”

Cass opens her eyes and stares into the mirror.

A girl stares back out at her. Smooth, scarless skin. Bold, red lips. Dark, long eyelashes. She looks beautiful. She looks perfect. She looks wrong.

Cass knows she should be happy to see herself perfect. If she can’t be perfect, she can’t perform. But she doesn’t see herself perfect, because that girl in the mirror is not Cass. That girl in the mirror wasn’t shot until she learned to move out of the way. That girl in the mirror has no weight on her shoulders and no scars on her skin and no bloodstains on her perfectly smooth hands. She looks like a Cass-doll. Smiling. Empty.

“No,” Cass says, tossing her head back and forth. Her arms wrap around her chest as she holds herself close, rocking on the balls of her feet. “No!”

“Cass—”

“No!” She wants to run. She can’t just—she can’t just flee. Now there are people, family. Bruce and Alfred. She has to explain. It’s not enough that she sees the doll. They need to see the doll too. Cass squeezes her eyes shut and focuses on coordinating her lips. The first time, no sound comes out; she’s forgotten how to force the noise. The second time, she chokes on her words. The third time— “It’s not me. I see…a fake. A doll.”

And then Bruce’s hands fall gently on her shoulders. He pulls Cass close, turning her so that she can’t see the mirror and her forehead leans against his chest. “You’ve worn makeup before,” Bruce says quietly. “Is there something different this time?”

Cass has let Dick paint her nails and Tim put blush on her cheeks and Steph do fancy eyeliner. But the scars were always still there. The past was always still there. “No scars,” Cass whispers. “She’s just blank.”

Bruce’s arms are warm around her back. Cass thinks she’s crying. The tears drip down her cheeks. The black eyelash paint is running. The makeup is turning to water. Cass is ruining everything. “We’ll do the makeup again,” Bruce says. “But lighter, and without the concealer. You’ll still see the scars.”

Cass shakes her head into Bruce’s shirt. She needs to look perfect for the stage. So her scars don’t distract the audience. So she becomes the perfect tool. So her body is not her own.

(Cass doesn’t know how to move if her body is not her own.)

“Ballerinas—” Cass practiced that word, over and over, so her lips could form it as easily as ‘yes’ or ‘no’ or ‘love.’ “Ballerinas have to be perfect.”

“Cass…This is a community group. It’s not a professional performance, they’re not paying you. You’re doing this for you and you’ll look how you want to look. And…” Bruce’s hand runs through Cass’s short hair. She can’t help but smile in spite of herself. “Anyone who says any different will have to deal with me, okay?”

“Yes,” Cass says.

So, she wipes the makeup off her face, and this time, she and Bruce do it together. She evens out the colors, hides a little spot of acne, adds in the contours and highlights to her face. But the scars stand out, raised and bright. They will shine in the stage lights. Cass can’t bring herself to hate them.

She goes back to her room and puts on her lavender bodice, and long, fuzzy socks, leaving the rest of the costume for backstage. “Ready, Miss Cassandra?” Alfred asks by the front door. The others will be there at the performance, but Cass has to be there early.

“Yes.” Cass smiles.

***

On stage, Cass dips and twirls and bends. Her body moves with her mind, and her mind moves with her body. The audience is dark. The stage is lit. Cass’s family is there watching her, but she dances for herself. Glissade. Relevé. Pirouette. Then arabesque—

Arms spread gracefully. A bird taking flight.

#CassCainWeek2025 #dc #batman #cassandra cain #bruce wayne #dc fanfiction #dc fanfic #batman fanfic #batman fanfiction #batfamily fanfic #batfamily fanfiction #dcu #dc universe #dc comics #cassandra cain fanfiction #fanfiction #fanfic

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