#but if you asked him to make literally anything else

[reidphobic]

i’ll show you heaven (if you’ll be an angel all night) - s. r.

in which you give your pretty boy neighbor a few much-needed lessons in pleasure. 4426 words.

inexperienced!sub!spencer x dom!fem reader, unprotected sex, mommy kink, brief hint at nursing, praise, oral (f receiving), no use of y/n, reader is super condescending at times but it’s hot i promise

You’re utterly enamoured with the pretty boy next door. You know next to nothing about him, only that his name is Dr. Spencer Reid (his mail); he’s bookish (you first met when he literally bumped into you in the hall with his nose in a book); he keeps very odd hours; and, most crucially, in the four years you’ve been his neighbor, he’s never had a girl over.

It’d be enough to make you think he just isn’t particularly interested in sex, if not for the paper-thin walls you share. You’re not trying to listen, but it’s hard to keep yourself under control when you know he’s only feet away, stroking himself to a whimpering, moaning orgasm in the dead of night. He just sounds so pretty, pliant and delicate, like he’s begging to be wrecked.

Your little crush has been spiralling out of control for a while now — you’re going through a dry spell, and it’s hard to keep your gorgeous neighbor out of your fantasies when they’re all you have. Your heart flutters when he smiles and waves from across the street, kicks in your chest when he nods at you in the hall. It’s embarrassing. Eventually, you have to take action. You order a parcel to his apartment, put your feet up and wait.

There’s a soft, timid tap at your door a day or so later, and you force yourself not to sprint to the door. “Hi,” Spencer says, bright and cheerful, an openness in his face that you’re dying to take advantage of. “Is this yours? It was delivered to my apartment by mistake. I- I’m Spencer. Reid. I live next door.”

Time for the performance of your life. You paste on a shocked, grateful look. “Yes! Oh, thank you!” you gasp. “I’ve been trying to get my money back all day, and it’s been a fucking nightmare,” you laugh, taking the box from him and leaning against the doorframe. Your eyes flicker down his body, tall and lean, catching on his hands for a second before landing on his lips. You smile, lick your lips. “Hey, d’you wanna come in? I’ll make you a coffee as a thank you.”

Spencer glances at his watch, then smiles, and, oh. You swear to yourself right then and there that you’ll do anything in your power to make him smile like that again. “Sure. I can’t stay long, though. Work,” he adds with an apologetic shrug.

“What is it you do?” you ask politely, closing the door behind him and busying yourself in the kitchen.

“I’m in the FBI,” he answers, like it’s the most casual thing in the world. Your eyes bug out of your head, and you turn to face him. But then you catch his expression, resigned and almost bored.

You let your eyes widen just enough that he knows you’re impressed, and then shrug. “And I bet that’s all you get to talk about when you meet someone new, am I right?” His face cycles through surprise, confusion and then relief, and he nods. You sit, slide him a cup of coffee, try not to be too transfixed by the muscles in his throat as he swallows. “So let’s talk about something else. You’re a doctor, right?” He tilts his head quizzically. “You’re not the only one who gets other people’s mail by mistake. The whole FBI thing means you’re not a medical doctor, at least, I don’t think, which only leaves a PhD.”

“Three, actually.” At that, you can’t stop your eyes from bugging out. He can’t be more than twenty-five! “Mathematics, Chemistry and Engineering.” He almost sounds sheepish, deliberately tucking in his shoulders to seem smaller as he speaks.

“Oh, my God,” you say faintly. “Well, I was going to ask about your thesis, but apparently I have to specify.” You pause. “Which one is your favourite? No, I wanna hear,” you say when Spencer opens his mouth to protest. “I won't understand a word, but I’m told I’m a really good listener.” You lean forward, smiling sweetly, and he fiddles nervously with his tie, stumbles over his words.

True enough, you don’t have the faintest idea what he’s talking about, but the way his eyes light up and his movements grow more animated the longer he talks more than makes up for it. You’re content to sit and listen, carefully memorise him as you hang onto every word, and the best part of an hour flies by like that. He pauses to take a breath, checks his watch and winces. “Crap. I’ve gotta go. This was… really nice. Thanks,” he says, setting his empty mug next to your sink on his way out.

“Hey,” you call out, and he pauses. “You’re welcome to come by another time, if you’re up for it. No offence or anything, but I kinda get the sense you need someone to talk to who’s not in the FBI.”

Spencer chuckles softly. “Is it that obvious?”

“A little,” you tease. “I’m sure your work is super serious and important, but, really, drop by if you get the chance. I’d like to see you again,” you add, letting the smallest note of interest creep into your voice at the last sentence, and you can tell by the way he falters mid-step that he picks up on it.

But he only smiles, offers you a polite goodbye, and disappears into the elevator. You don’t see him for a little while after that, but just when you’re starting to kick yourself for not getting his number, he taps on your door. It’s so late that you’d thought he wasn’t coming home for the night, but you smile warmly when you open the door, assure him he’s not bothering you at all, of course not, and you work nights anyway, so it’s not even close to your bedtime.

“You want something to drink? It’s a bit late for coffee, but I have tea? Wine?” You pad across the living room, hyper-conscious of Spencer’s gaze on your bare thighs, your short silk robe doing very little to protect your modesty.

“Wine would be great, actually,” he says, balancing himself delicately at the edge of your couch.

“Rough day?” you ask, pouring two healthy glasses and passing one to him.

He laughs ruefully. “Like you wouldn’t believe.”

“You wanna talk about it?”

Spencer bites his lip. “I’d really rather not,” he says quietly, looking down at his shoes. “How about you talk and I listen this time? About anything.” He laughs softly and you launch into your best first-date stories, slowly working your way through the wine and inching closer with each new glass. Both slightly tipsy, your head rests in his lap and he’s staring down at you like you hung the moon, and you can’t take your eyes off his lips, his pretty, flushed cheeks. “Hey, what was in that package they delivered to my apartment?” he asks, and you’ve got him.

“You don’t wanna know,” you smirk, toying with the hem of your robe and dragging it up, revealing just a sliver more of your bare thigh.

“I do, though,” he pouts, carding a hand gently through your hair.

Your smile broadens. “Well, you know what they say about curiosity.”

“It killed the cat?”

“Sure,” you answer, hands sliding up to the tie around your waist. “But satisfaction brought it back.” You untie your robe, let it spill into his lap and across the floor, hear him suck in a sharp breath at the sight of you. Lace in a shade of red so deep it’s almost black cradles the curves of your body, and you study his face carefully for a reaction. Spencer’s eyes are wide, pupils blown, and his hands tremble where they hover above your skin. “Do you like it? I bought it to cheer myself up. I’m in a real dry spell at the moment — but, you know about that, right?” you tease.

Spencer clears his throat. “I, uh… huh?” He sounds practically tongue-tied, poor thing, and you reach up to smooth his hair behind his ear.

“Spencer. Come on. Unless your mute girlfriend only comes in through the fire escape, you’ve never had a woman in your apartment,” you say, playful but just mean enough to get under his skin.

He flushes crimson to the tips of his ears. “Is it, uh…” He licks his lips. “Is it really that obvious?”

You smirk. “Yeah. Be honest, is this driving you a little crazy? Do you think I look pretty?”

“I think you’re beautiful.” You sit up, plant yourself squarely in his lap. He’s stiff, back ramrod-straight, fists clenched by his sides.

You shift your hips, grind down against him. “Do you want me?” you breathe, leaning in close. Spencer nods weakly, entirely at your mercy. “Spencer,” you purr. “Are you a virgin?”

“No!” he says indignantly. “I’ve had sex. Just not, you know, for a long while.”

Taking his hands, you place them on your waist, and his head tips back like he can’t believe his luck. You laugh, low and dark. “You blush like one.” Leaning in, you speak against his lips, so close he can practically swallow your words. “Do you want to fuck me, Spencer?”

He nods frantically, so hard you’re afraid his neck is going to snap. “Please. I want… God, I can’t—”

You drag your thumb across his bottom lip to silence him, resist the urge to press it deeper into his mouth. “Aw, you’re so needy, baby. So cute,” Spencer whines, pouts up at you as you shift your hips. “It’s okay. I’ll take care of you,” you murmur, finally leaning in to kiss him; nothing more than a soft press of lips, at first. Then his hands slide up from your waist to your jaw, pull you in again. His kiss is starving, feverish, almost crazed, like he’s gone so long without it that he can’t relax.

You nip playfully at his bottom lip, pull it into your mouth. He slides his hands into your hair, happily cedes control as you slip your tongue into his mouth. His face scrunches up in displeasure when you pull away. “You’re not very experienced, are you?” you say, taking one of his hands and skimming it down your back. “All the theory in that brain of yours, but no application, right? Does that make you nervous?”

Spencer flushes impossibly redder. “I… Yes. I don’t… I want it to be good for you,” he murmurs, deliberately avoiding your gaze until you tilt his head up to meet his warm, honey-brown eyes.

Pressing a soft, near-chaste kiss to his lips, you gently twirl a strand of his hair around your finger. “It’s okay, baby. I can teach you, huh? How’s that sound?” You slip your hands under his sweater, slide them up his slim, toned chest.

“Mhmm,” he murmurs, head dipping to kiss your neck.

You giggle. “Such a quick learner, baby. You wanna bruise me up, just a little?” His teeth scrape at your neck, a messy, graceless thing; pain blooms under his touch, skitters down your spine. “Good boy,” you murmur, and he shudders. “Oh, you like that, don’t you, pretty? Be a good boy and take your shirt off for me, okay?”

He scrambles to obey, practically rips his shirt over his head and tosses it away. You pull back to gaze at him, trace your fingertips over his bare chest. “Stop it,” he says quietly, almost a whine, squirming under you. “Stop looking at me like that.”

“Can’t help it,” you grin. “You’re just so pretty.” You grind your hips down, moan just a touch theatrically. “And so hard. This all for me, sweetheart?” you ask, and he melts under you at the epithet. “I asked you a question,” you add, digging your nails just slightly into his jaw.

“Yeah, it’s for you. S’yours, baby, I want you,” Spencer pleads, eyes wide and lips parted.

“So eager, baby. I’ll give you what you need, don’t worry. You wanna stay here or go to bed?”

Spencer grabs at your hips, squirms under you, meets your hips at an angle that sends pleasure cascading over you. “Bed. Please,” he gasps, burying his head in your neck and whining.

You stand up without a word, affecting casualness, but you feel the loss of his warm body between your thighs like an ache. “You coming, pretty?” you smirk, glancing over your shoulder to where Spencer is still sitting, stunned. He scrambles to his feet so fast he almost pitches over, stumbling after you as you pad into your bedroom.

Spencer doesn’t follow you into bed, though, casting a sweeping, curious look around your room. You snap your fingers impatiently. “Hey. Stop profiling the half-naked girl who wants to have sex with you.” Obediently, he climbs onto the bed next to you, kisses you sweetly as your hands slide down to unbuckle his belt. You tug his pants and boxers off in one motion, let him awkwardly kick them to the floor. Suddenly, he’s gorgeously naked in your bed, his cock hanging heavy and hard between his legs.

You stare openly, mind blanking for a second as your mouth waters. All you can think about is how beautiful he is, how good he’ll feel inside you. “Are you… Am I, uh… Okay?” Spencer asks softly, like he’s embarrassed. You gasp, grab his face, kiss him fiercely.

“Sweetheart,” you murmur, cupping his cheek as he blushes. “You’re gorgeous. Such a pretty boy for me, huh?” you breathe, connecting your lips and taking easy control of the kiss, your movements languid where his are frantic and desperate.

“Please,” he murmurs against your lips, the pathetic sound of it falling straight between your legs.

You smirk against Spencer’s lips as his hands rove along your back like he’s searching for something. “It undoes from the front, honey.” You guide his hands to the clasps, let him loosen your lingerie and pull it off, and he moans openly at the sight of your naked body.

He sits up to gaze at you, lips parted and eyes darting around as if he’s mapping every inch of you. “You’re incredible,” he murmurs, hands hovering over your chest until you grab them and rest them on your boobs. Arching up, you press your chest into Spencer’s hands, moan when he squeezes softly. One hand trails down your body, down your side and along the curve of your hip, under your leg to grab at the point where your thigh meets your ass. “How do you want me?” he breathes, a nervous tremble in his voice.

“It’s alright, baby. Take your time. I’m all yours, promise.” You smile softly up at him, let him cautiously explore your body, learn exactly how to pull a soft moan from your kiss-swollen lips. Spencer dips his head, kisses the hollow of your throat, works his way down until he’s wrapping his lips around your nipple. You whine when he sucks softly, laps at the peaked bud.

It seems like you’ve found something that makes him tick, because it’s minutes before he lifts his head, and only to switch to the other side. His eyes are glazed over with lust when he finally looks up, and you smile down at him. “Enjoying yourself?” you tease, and he flushes a now-familiar red. “It’s okay, pretty. Don’t need to be embarrassed. But I wanna fuck you now, ‘kay?” You crawl on top of him, grind your soaked cunt against his stomach. “Feel how wet I am, baby? S’all for you, gorgeous.”

Slowly, you push yourself up onto your knees, Spencer’s hands clutching your hips like you’re a mirage, like you’ll fade into a dream if he lets go. “Oh, my God,” he moans, eyes fluttering closed as his hips twitch in desperation.

You circle your hips, carefully line him up with your dripping hole. “You ever done cowgirl before?” He shakes his head mutely, mouth open but no sound coming out. “You want to?”

“Yes,” he rushes out. “God, yes. But, don’t you wanna… condom?”

You lean down to whisper in his ear, conspiratorial. “No. It’s hotter that way.” You shift your hips again. “I mean, I know I’m clean, and you haven’t had sex in over four years, I’m on the pill… I can go and get one, if you want, but I really want to feel you cum inside me, Spencer,” you murmur, and he gives a full-body shudder. “Yeah?”

He nods frantically. “Yeah.” You trail your hands down his stomach, the muscles bunched tight under your fingertips.

“Relax, okay, sweetheart?” you coo, still roaming your hands across his stomach. “S’only gonna feel even better if you just relax for me.” Spencer breathes in deeply, closes his eyes, exhales the tension. “Good boy.” Oh-so slowly, you sink down on him, the aching stretch delicious between your thighs. His whimpered fuck when you’re fully seated makes you pulse around him, back arching involuntarily. “Do you need a minute, baby?”

Spencer looks up at you, dazed, and nods. “You feel so good,” he groans, half-broken already. A moment or so passes, giving the both of you time to adjust to feeling each other. You can sense that he wants you to move by the way he starts twitching inside you, his nails digging harder into your hips.

You watch him suck his bottom lip into his mouth, screw his eyes shut, fight not to make a sound. Pouting, you slide your thumb over his mouth until his lips part obediently around the digit. “Who taught you that?” you murmur, scrunching your face in displeasure. “Who told you to be quiet, Spencer? Don’t do that with me, okay? I wanna hear all your pretty noises, honey. You gotta let me know you feel good.”

Nodding, Spencer moans your name the second you free his mouth, hips jerking as pent-up, needy whines spill free. Something that might be the word please stumbles from his lips, over and over until it’s the only sound you can hear, filling the room and humming under your skin.

Despite all his efforts, you hold still, though every nerve in your body is screaming, begging for you to fuck yourself on his cock. “Is there something you want, sweetheart?” you say, sickly-sweet and patronising. “Beg me for it, pretty.”

“Fuck, come on, please!” he whines. “Want you s’bad, please. God, I need you, please, Mommy, want you to fuck me, you feel so good, please!” he gasps. You don’t think he even realises what he’s said, too far gone in his desperation. You, however, are far more lucid.

You rock upwards, lift your hips off him, and he whines at the loss. “Is this what you need, baby? Need Mommy to fuck you like this?” Spencer covers his face in embarrassment, but he can’t hold back the gasping moan that slips out when you sink down on him, grind your clit against his stomach. “Stop it,” you snap, pulling his arm away from his face. “How many times do I have to tell you? Don’t be embarrassed, and don’t hold anything back. How’m I supposed to teach you if you don’t let me know what makes you feel good, huh?” Setting a slow pace, you start to bounce in his lap, every sound that escapes him pathetic and delicious. “I’ll be your Mommy if that’s what you need, pretty.”

Whining, Spencer gazes up at you, eyes fixed on your tits and practically drooling. “Tell me— shit— tell me what to do,” he pleads, grabbing greedily at your ass and moaning.

“Such an eager boy. Just wanna please, right?” He nods, moans your name and yes and Mommy. “Give me your hand, okay?” You take his hand, carefully press his index and middle fingers against your clit, moaning at the sudden stimulation. “Little circles, okay, baby? Just keep goin’, try and find—oh, fuck!” You choke on your words, a bright bolt of pleasure shooting up your spine as your thighs clench around his hips. “That’s it, baby, good fucking boy. Don’t stop,” you moan.

To his credit, Spencer knows what don’t stop means; doesn’t try to move faster, harder, just works at you in those same tight little circles, arousal sliding hot and sticky down your spine. His hips jerk, fucking up into you harder, and you grind down into his lap, against his fingers. Ecstasy pools in your belly, drips out between your legs, your hands fisting in the sheets.

You clench around him, roll your hips, lean down just enough that he can wrap his lips around your boob, grazing your skin with his teeth in his desperation. “Feel so good, Mommy,” Spencer moans, writhing desperately under you. “I’m gonna— gonna fucking— please,” he whimpers, choking on his own moans. Desire threads under your skin, pulls taut in your belly.

“You gonna cum, pretty? Aw, baby. Cum for me, yeah? I wanna feel it.” Your instruction seems to be all Spencer needs, twitching and jerking under you as he spills in your cunt. “Good boy,” you murmur. He shudders, goes limp, smiles dazedly up at you.

“Thank you,” he gasps as you climb off him, kissing you sweetly, frantic desire dispersed into slow, indolent passion. “That was… you’re… I mean…”

You giggle. “Oh, my God, are you speechless?” You press your lips against his, chest clenching with affection as he blushes. “God, you’re so cute,” you add, and Spencer closes his eyes, scrunches up his face in embarrassment.

He pouts up at you, all pleading brown eyes and soft hands skimming up and down your body. “You didn’t finish,” he says, and he sounds genuinely forlorn, earnestly apologetic.

“It’s okay, baby,” you say, and although it’s far from the first time you’ve said that in bed, you really do mean it. “This was about you, yeah? First time you’ve had sex in, oh… five years?” He nods. “You were never gonna last, sweetheart, it’s alright,” you coo, stroking his cheek as he presses his body close to yours.

“Aren’t you supposed to be teaching me? If I just… like that… How am I supposed to learn?” Spencer says slyly, the corner of his mouth quirking teasingly upward.

Oh, he’s learning, all right. You grin. “I’ll teach you something, Spencer. You ask a woman anything with that look on your face, she’ll do it.”

Spencer smiles faintly as you slide his hand down your body, along the inside of your thigh, let him explore you with the tips of his fingers. “Can I… I wanna taste you. Please?” You thread your fingers into his hair, tug lightly just to make him whine.

“Yeah? S’that what you want, pretty?” He nods as you lift his head, straining frantically to reach your lips where you hold him tantalisingly out of reach. “Oh, you’re so good, honey. God, I’m so lucky I got my hands on you, sweetheart, so good for me, such a sweet boy,” you say indulgently, and he scrambles down your body as soon as you let go of his hair. “Slow down, baby, s’not a race. You wanna take your time, alright? Kisses, a little bit of tongue, make me want it, yeah?”

“Okay,” Spencer breathes against your skin, kissing at your lower belly. His tongue swirls over your body, tracing delicate patterns over your skin that work you into a frenzy. You’re desperate, a fire burning you from the inside out, your body aching with it. You moan his name, and you feel him smile against you. “You want something?” he says, sounding all too pleased with himself.

You scoff, tugging on his hair. “Don’t get cute,” you scold, pulling him down until his lips meet your core.

Still teasing, he presses soft little kisses to the insides of your thighs. “What am I supposed to do?” he asks, wide eyed and faux-innocent even with his mouth achingly close to where you need it.

“Use your imagination,” you groan, tugging his head down until his tongue finally makes contact with your core. He’s hesitant, at first, licking a slow stripe along your cunt, but your moan and the way you slam your thighs closed around his head seem to spur him on. Suddenly, he’s frantic, hands clutching at your hips as he buries his tongue inside you. Pleasure burns under your skin, creeps up your spine, drips out against Spencer’s mouth. He pauses between every new motion, every movement of his tongue, every trace of his fingers, studies your reaction oh-so carefully.

He’s hungry, and it only makes you more feverish, his sweet little moans into you coaxing matching ones from your own lips. His nose bumps your clit and you whine, a bolt of heat lurching through your body. Smiling, Spencer repeats the motion, brings his fingers up to circle your soaked clit. You grind against his face, down on his tongue, arousal winding tight between your thighs. “Shit, honey, I’m close,” you moan, holding him close, crossing your legs behind his head. He murmurs something unintelligible, but the words vibrate deliciously through you all the same, dragging you ever closer to your peak.

You whine when he moves his fingers away, clenching uselessly around nothing and bucking your hips in a silent plea. His lips wrap around your clit, sucking harshly and moaning into you. The sudden wave of stimulation is all it takes, your vision cracking and splintering as ecstasy crashes over you. Your cunt pulses against his mouth, his name spilling from your lips in a nearly crazed litany, pure pleasure wiping your mind clean. You’re half-convinced you left Earth for a second, your body melting into the mattress with his still tangled between your hips.

When you finally regain the strength to move, you let go of him, and he climbs eagerly up your body. “Was I good?” he asks, quiet and almost fragile.

“Oh, sweetheart.” You cup his jaw, kiss your own taste off his lips. “You’re so good for me, baby, did so good. C’mere, let me hold you.” You hook one leg over his, let him tuck his body into yours. “Such a good boy,” you murmur.

You’re conscious of the state of both of you, sweat-soaked and sticky between your thighs, but, selfishly, you just want to hold him a little longer. “Thank you,” Spencer says softly. “Do you… Can we, um. Do this again sometime? Maybe?”

You smile. “Honey, I’m not even close to done with you yet.”

[wonderjanga]

You Knew the Demon Head?

For this AU, I suppose we’d have to pretend that Ra’s al Ghul isn’t hundreds of years old, but rather thousands. So pretend for that this specific post he is.

Billy got a call from Nightwing. The man said he’d meant to call for Batman but had instead fumbled and called him instead for help. Cap still came to see if they needed anything. See, it turned out that Nightwing, Red Hood, Red Robin, and Robin were all patrolling when one of them found Lazarus Pit. So, now all four of them, now with the added Captain Marvel, were all standing around the Pit watching the green liquid.

Marvel: “Geez it’s been a long while since I’ve seen a Lazarus pit.”

Red Robin: “You know what these are?”

Marvel: “Yeah, I had a friend who used them to stay young.”

Robin!Damian: “The only people who use them for that purpose of the League of Assassins.”

Marvel: “Oh? You know about the League of Assassins, Robin five?”

Robin!Damian: “Robin five…?” *looks him up and down before shaking his head* “I was apart of them.”

Marvel: “Wait, really?”

Robin!Damian: “Yes?”

Marvel: “Wow… Y’know, I haven’t heard that name in so long, and think I get to meet a real life member again. You’re sort of young, but I do remember Ra’s mentioning taking in orphans.”

Robin!Damian: “You say that like you knew my grandfather.”

Marvel: “Ra’s is your grandpa?” *looks him up and down* “I don’t really see the resemblance.”

Robin!Damian: “I’ve been told I look more like my father.”

*silence*

Nightwing: “Uh, Cheese? How do you know about the League of Assassins? Let alone Ra’s al Ghul. I would’ve thought something like this was a little too… gritty for you.”

Marvel: “What’s that mean?”

Red Hood: “He means you’re like a ball of sunshine, and that people like you don’t really associate with stuff like assassins. You normally fight mad scientists or witches or whatever.”

Marvel: “Uh… Red Hood? Your name is Red Hood right?”

Red Hood: *nods head*

Marvel: “I fight against monsters, mind control, and Nazis on an almost daily basis. This isn’t really above me.” *looks back to Nightwing* “Anyways, you asked how I knew him, right?”

Nightwing: *nods head*

Marvel: “Well, you see, a long time ago we used to be best buds!” *all smiley*

*another silence*

Nightwing: “What…?”

Red Robin: “You were best buds with the head of a- sorry, the organization of assassins.”

Marvel: “Yeah! Me and Ra’s go away back. Like thousands upon thousands of years back. I was actually apart of the original LoA if you think about it.

Robin!Damian: “So you and grandfather were comrades?”

Marvel: “Guess so. But we stopped talking ever since I died.”

Red Hood: “Huh…?”

Marvel: “I die, I revive as a new person, and then I remember who I was before, if that makes sense. That’s happened multiple times.” *trying to be as vague about the Champion of Magic stuff as possible*

Red Robin: “So you reincarnate?”

Marvel: “Something like that. It’s not really reincarnation because it’s not my soul that gets reincarnated, it’s mostly just my memories. I become a completely different person.” *looks to Damian* “That’s probably why when your grandpa and I met again, he was a little upset that I wasn’t the me he knew before.”

Robin!Damian: “You’ve both met again?”

Marvel: “We’ve met multiple times over the years. He’s still a little salty whenever he sees me, but I think it’s gone down a little bit.”

*silence*

Nightwing: “I’m still confused though! How do you just become besties with the Demon’s Head?”

Marvel: “Well, he wasn’t always the Demon’s Head, Robin one. He used to be a healer.”

Robin!Damian: “Grandfather was a healer?”

Marvel: “Yeah, he understood germ theory before literally anyone else. You know that right? He was a brilliant man, really. Anyways, when I was just a normal kid before I got my memories, we became friends. Then, when I got my powers and memories back, me and the tribe helped him take over the city.”

Red Hood: “What city?”

Marvel: “You know, the city. The one that Ra’s and his tribe took over after a king sentenced him to killing his own wife, even though the prince of that city actually killed wife.” *said all of that in one breath*

Robin!Damian: “I have a grandmother?”

Marvel: “Yup! I have no idea who your parent is though because when she died, I don’t recall them having any children.”

Red Robin: “I love how you’re dropping all of this lore like it’s nothing.”

Marvel: “Fun fact, after taking over the city, that’s when he started calling himself the Demon’s Head I think.”

Marvel continued to drop multiple lore bombs about Ra’s after that. Meanwhile, Ra’s is minding his own business somewhere else.

Ra’s al Ghul: *pauses whatever he was doing* “Something just happened…”

[ford-ye-fiji]

this got too long for the tags, sorry op you just get this up here now. Anyway, do yall wanna know??? Yall wanna know?!! GET READY HERE IT GOES

background: I, college aged adult, live with my parents and younger siblings. The economy is in shambles okay. I’m glad though because it means I was able to help out with this nonsense.

January 2nd starts with driving my grandma to a faraway hospital for foot surgery. Stop to see her husband Pop (she is in memory care and he won’t move out of their house) HE IS SICK AND IN KIDNEY FAILURE. Meanwhile at home, two kittens go into heat a month early and are peeing around the house. We have to install a pee watch cause if they get on the carpets, it is the literal end of the world. At 11 pm, we pick up a cat cage for them to spend the night in, we can’t get a vet appointment for a couple of days but at least that’s earlier than we hoped for. Meanwhile, we have to force Pop to go to a hospital by calling an ambulance on him. He was literally two seconds away from dying surrounded by his own pee filled diapers. That’s the 2nd day of 2024 and it only gets worse from there.

the rest is under a read more cause it got too long, just like this year

hospital visits hospital visits hospital visits, rehab, physical therapy etc etc etc. We can't let Pop go home now that we’ve got him out of the house or else he'll never leave again. He can’t live alone and he lives over an hour away from us. His house is also a hoarder nightmare we’ve been trying to clean for 5+ years. In March, we finally move Grandma into a memory care closer to us, they say Pop and his 2 cats can move in with them (we had been searching for the last five months for an affordable memory care to take them both- if he could ever manage to convince him to move + cats).

Now, Pop is 90 years old (a fact he is fond of saying) and ready to die (a fact he is also fond of saying) so he makes vaguely threatening suicidal comments (which he has in fact been making for the past 50 years). Memory care freaks out and says he needs a psych eval before he can be admitted and IF HE IS they can still kick him out anytime cause he does not have an official dementia diagnosis (bc he hates doctors). Pop is also pretty much deaf and refuses to use hearing aids plus he has a catheter in (because of the kidneys) so extra fun times. Now, the memory care place tells us to take him to the ER for a psych eval. We get there at 2 pm bc this literally happened MOVE IN DAY. At 2:30 am, we finally return home and since pop has no place to stay and we have no room he sleeps on the couch in our living room. Father HATES this. I could understand at this point. He is a neat freak and pop is unequivocally not. He is the exact opposite. He's Pigpen from Charlie Brown.

Anyway, A WEEK LATER, memory care says ok he can come in. Over this uncertain week, we have come to terms with the fact that they could kick him out again at anytime for anything + pop has an aversion to doctors and hospitals + this will be a living hell for him. Like the man hasn’t been to a dentist in over 50 years and pulled his own teeth out rather than go to see them, he is DETERMINED. We make the decision to finish the basement. It is the only spare room we have available and finishing it would make it livable for a 90 year old man. Plus, with him helping to pay for it and if we budgeted really well it should be possible THIS IS STILL MARCH, LIKE MARCH 25TH, THE YEAR HAS BARELY EVEN BEGUN YET.

We ask uncle (oldest son of pop) to help as he is only other living nearby sibling. Uncle is handy man so can help with basement and thus help pop save money since he is also paying for wife/grandma memory care. He says yes. His wife and our SIL is also like my father. She is a neat and control freak. Pop goes to stay with them while we begin construction mostly bc we have to fill the living room he’s sleeping in with stuff from the basement. My bedroom is in the basement, so I move out of it out and sleep with my littlest sister- who sacrifices graciously with little complaining about the invasion of her personal space. Our SIL on the other hand makes our lives hell for the next two months, constantly complaining about his presence and not being able to do stuff she wants AND that we are taking her husband from her, who btw only came down to our house seven days total to help and that was spread over weekends across about two months. This is all done in passive aggressive fashion over group texts?!?!? Uncle is a really great guy but overestimates how much we can do ourselves. We have to finish with contractors but still got a lot done, thank you uncle, plus we learned how to diy drywall and mud. We still paint the basement ourselves to save money, finish in 3 blistering days and I ache in every way imaginable BUT. JUNE. IT IS FINISHED IN RECORD TIME. Pop is in the hospital again (since around the end of May) bc of an infection. When he is discharged, we take him back. We get his catheter out after a prostate shrinking op, which is wonderful! No more pee on couches from the occasional faulty catheter leaking.

Meanwhile, we have been cleaning out their house, trying to find what is actually salvageable and meaningful in their hoarders nest of a house cause we need to sell it to keep Grandma in memory care cause that is PRICEY. Pop isn’t a perfect house guest but if you leave handwritten notes or ask him not to do things he will comply (like we had to ask him not to clean what little remains of his teeth out with toothpicks in the living room and to not then spit the food bits??? Onto the carpet??). Gentle reminders and wordless gestures pretty much communicate well. He is also always saying thank you and making funny jokes which more than makes up for the downsides. Sometimes he has fits of old man temper, as he is 90 now, but that is to be expected. His brain is going and he is no longer quite the Pop we once knew and loved. Father doesn’t get this and is constantly seething about what how filthy he is. Familial strain is at an all time high because these are the grandparents his children love immensely because they were a) always willing to help- like Pop literally wired our house and b) were always around and always helping us and c) very loving and doting grandparents. However, bc of father's discomfort, we decide to ping pong Pop back and forth with uncle and SIL (they have a massive house and much older kids all moved out except one) theoretically every six weeks. We also finish cleaning out their house as much as possible and sell it. Lots of crying. This is the only house they’ve owned, as dirty as it was, they lived there for sixty years. Mom grew up in it. I practically grew up in it. It’s gone now.

August 16th we send him to uncle and SIL so we can have a break. Our family has given up a lot, especially mom who stopped her part time job + helping out at church + doing things she loved. Shoutout to my mom actually for being the best daughter in the world, I cannot compete. We all just need a minute to breathe from this.

But two days later he’s broken his hip at Uncle and SIL's house. We coordinate hospital operations and get him into a rehab near us. Then move him back in. Since both me and Pop now sleep in the basement, I spend these months sharing a bathroom with him and helping monitor his health. I sometimes wake up and, hearing that he isn’t coughing, go to check on him and make sure he’s alive.

September 16th, Grandma is in the hospital after a fall. After a lot of consultations, it is found that she needs to be on hospice. She doesn’t have long. We spends the next few weeks visiting her a lot and taking pop to see her.

October 8th. Grandma dies. We have to tell Pop. We coordinate and plan her funeral.

December, we need a break so we cautiously send Pop back up to stay with uncle and SIL. Pop has a doctor's visit almost a week and a half later so mom goes with SIL bc she is basically his medical manager and SIL doesn’t really know much.

We've known that his heart could fail at any time and that they could fix it with a surgery (which pop wouldn’t want. He has remained adamant that surgeries are not an option for him, he only got the prostate op done cause it wasn’t invasive at all). There is also a minimally invasive operation for his heart that might give him longer to live, but he needs his teeth fixed first. That will never happen and pop would not want it ever. So, our only option is, he needs to go on hospice. He also needs a short hospital stay (because his heart can’t pump properly so his lungs are filling with fluid, which will eventually kill him if the fluid isn’t sucked out periodically. He is drowning on dry land, it’s horrifying). SIL tries to dump him back with us because of this, she does this without asking or saying explicitly just by bringing all of his overnight stuff back to our house. Uncle simply comes down himself a couple days later to get pop from hospital and his stuff from our house. I am privy to more family drama than I have ever wanted to know.

Anyway as of today 12/31, he is still alive and well and due to come back to our house early on the 1st so uncle and SIL can go on a family cruise. I say Pop for 2k25, he can do it!

THINGS THAT I FORGOT:

-grandma was constantly in and out of the hospital bc of falls cause she forgot she was wheelchair bound and tried to stand

-having to find our grandparents cats a new home which almost didn’t happen and was a huge source of stress because for a time we were afraid that we'd have to give away these sweet creatures to a shelter

-constantly having to drive grandma to wound care that was an hour away because of her foot operation

-in December we also helped my oldest brother move from his apartment to a house and painted his living room and bedroom in three days bc we have painting experience now 💪

-the kittens refusing to stop licking their incisions from their operation and absolute refusal to wear cones and us scrambling to find a solution for that. They hated it but they didn’t lick the glue off and we got to take pictures of their misery so ha

-one heart stopping twelve hours where we thought one of our cats got rabies but he just got out and ate a bug. apparently cicadas can make your cat foam at the mouth PSA everyone

-I finally found another job and I started school back up

-my mom was so stressed her body decided to screw her over and give her vertigo for a few horrible weeks where she couldn’t drive anymore

So TLDR; 2024 was not my year

and grandma and pop I’ll love you forever

[blueberrypancakesworld]

Begging you for more Caracalla fanfiction pretty please?? Literally no one writes for him ??

I’m so ashamed but can you write Caracalla and fem reader who starts her period, how he’d help her through any pain or discomfort? Also disgustingly good period sex to get rid of cramps if this isn’t too weird?

I just started at work and have no products with me so we die like men in Rome, free bleeding 🩸

Blessed if you do, blessed if you don’t 🙏🏼 ty xx

Bleeding free for love

Emperor Caracalla x wife!reader

warning : +18, smut, hurt/comfort, tiny emotional, kissing, body worship, blood play, period sex, family problems

Summary : When the sun was in the sky at midday, it was the aches and pains that afflicted the goddess of Rome, hot and cold baths hardly seemed to help and hardly any food was right. When her husband has a certain idea to take away her pain and they both could get closer to each other.

info : So finally dear i have finished it i wish you a lot of fun reading and hope you have survived your period well. I had a lot of fun writing this everytime again and wish you lots of fun ;)

masterlist

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Blood had many uses for rituals, animal blood for eating, for painting, blood was something that gave life and could take life it was the most valuable thing known to man because without it you died.

One thing the soldiers in the battles knew as soon as they saw the blood of their opponents they had won, the midwives saw the blood of the mother as a life was born and a dead man would bleed as his head was cut off.

A thing that everyone knew, every child, every man and especially every woman who felt the blood on a day of the month followed by pain and upset.

A natural process that could lead to life according to certain doctors or midwives to whom one went to have herbs and tinctures mixed against the pain, but as death would haunt everyone, so would pain haunt every woman of Rome.

A pain that also commanded the empress in a moment of adversity, from the moment she woke up she had felt on the edge of Olympus.

She loved her husband and her brother-in-law but her smile wanted to smile less and less, everything seemed to interfere and nothing worked her mood was completely controlled by the gods a thing that only disturbed her even more.

At breakfast, her appetite didn't seem to be for anything except for a delicious sweet fruit or honey glazed nuts, but nothing else seemed to appeal to her either, ,,I'm sure it won't be anything bad" she had told Caracalla, who was already giving her a worried look, normally the three of them tasted their way through the whole breakfast and were not so reserved.

At midday in the palace garden she was only in the shade, the sun seemed far too strong, although even Geta and Caracalla were in the sun, ,,Just leave me" she had said more cheekily than necessary when they both wanted to pull her to the table for a game and she had retreated with her servant.

But above all, her stomach pains didn't stop, pains that she feared were something worse and she wanted to turn to a healer after the senate meeting...but the answer came to her with a knowing sigh.

She rose from her seat in the senate to help her brother-in-law's argument, knowing that Caracalla was not fully present in his current state when she felt the first drop and she cursed inwardly.

,,I commend myself, something has come up" she only hastily said to Geta and gave Caracalla a brief smile as she tried to get away from the gazing eyes as quickly as possible.

But while Geta tried to reassure the senate that all was well, it was Caracalla in particular who seemed to snap out of it and looked anxiously after his wife.

Gods must you make me bleed now? she asked the saints and at least the answer was only why her abdomen hurt and why her mood was so different, she had bled once more.

A bleeding that made her go straight to the bathhouse where she washed herself because of course it didn't stop at a drop, she sometimes felt as if she were an animal bleeding to death in its last moments.

It stung and pinched so much, no wine or food seemed to help and the water always seemed too cold, ,,Warm it up once more" she ordered her tone again harsher than she wanted and the servants informed the slaves.

The bath water warmed up again after a few minutes and she sighed as the pain disappeared, at least for a moment, as she tried to concentrate on the rose petals and the scent of avender that came through the flowers floating around her.

A scent that at least helped her with a headache did some good, at least the gods were a little merciful to her because the rest of the day she would be bleeding in her room.

Her feelings were as numerous as the gods and she probably didn't take pleasure in anything, just lying in bed perhaps listening to music to distract her from the pain.

Whatever it was she was going to do it was all better than being around people, she had kept the dinner with Caracalla and Geta as short as possible, ,,I will find a way to take away your pain that is my duty as your husband" her heart tried to cheer her up and gave her a quick kiss.

A kiss that actually made her smile for a moment, it seemed that no matter what situation or how much pain she was in Caracalla always found a way to make her smile, one of the things she appreciated so much about him.

He liked to fight with himself, the madness taking him over more and more from time to time but for her he always tried, ,,And I will accept this as your wife" she replied and gave him a kiss too as Geta only had a pleased look for the two of them, glad that his family didn't stop at madness and blood.

After dinner, everyone retired to their rooms to rest, the day had been exhausting enough and she just wanted to try to sleep, a sleep that was not granted to her, but minutes turned into almost hours in which she turned from left to right and knew that as long as she continued to be stabbed in her abdomen, she would find no rest.

Until the moment she heard a knock on her door and smiled, ,,Are the gods not letting you sleep either?" she heard her husband ask and saw that Caracalla had a small tablet with some things on it.

Sitting up in her bed, she tapped the fur next to her, ,,The honourable ones seem to be stabbing me right now," she replied, but immediately saw her husband get a worried look on his face.

In his state, where he was probably at least a little more aware of his surroundings, it was always better than him having a full-blown seizure and hurting someone else.

Setting the tray down on the bed, he scrambled over to her and placed his hand on her stomach, surprisingly gentle for someone who seemed so worried but at least it had a little ,,The warmth of love" he grinned as he saw her features relax and her hand rest on his.

Maybe it really was the bond between man and woman that could help them, that could ease their pain as she saw some sweet treats on the tray.

Treats they fed each other, the sweetness and warmth actually helping a little, ,,My caring emperor" she murmured to him before giving him a kiss.

A short kiss really, but one that made the blue-eyed man want more, his hand sliding from her belly to her side, letting her know he wanted her, ,,The healers said...a touch of body might help with your pain," he said as they parted, the smell of sweetness mingling slightly with the tang of metal.

She felt the slight shame burning on her cheeks, she knew it was supposed to help when they slept together it always seemed to make no difference, an agreement, a bond could do so much

,,But the blood" she already knew the skins and pillows needed to be cleaned even without the sex through her blood, but Caracalla just smirked, ,,Has an attractive effect on me" he just giggled before he kissed her again.

A kiss as they lay gently on the pillows, hands carelessly taking the clothes from each other's bodies, the room seemed too warm, too heated by their love that burned as his hand went to her breast.

The gods gave her the pain but also the sensitivity something that also struck her lover who looked at her almost proudly, ,,Never be ashamed of our union no blood will keep me from you" he assured her and began to kiss her neck.

The little bites and marks turned her on more than usual, her mind plagued by lust that surfaced between the pain whenever she thought of her husband, an emperor who continued to take care of her body.

His fingers skilfully massaged her breasts, teasing her nipples as he lightly pinched them and she shuddered as she groaned, ,,Mhhh gods you've made a pack with him" she giggled as she saw the amusement of Caracalla as he continued to take care of her body.

Every piece of her had to be loved by him, everything she needed he gave her, praised her, kissed her, bit her, licked her everything he just wanted to be with his wife.

His goddess who loved him so much it was the only right thing to do that he helped her through everything in their life together.

Blood was what he liked in the Coloseum arena, and her blood seemed to act like an aphrodisiac on him, making him lose himself in lust and slight madness.

He finally kissed her belly before running his hands along her thighs and pushing them slightly apart, ,,Your emperor will take away any pain...as sweet reddish as a cherry you are" he compared them and the couple both smiled at the sweet but apt comparison.

A comparison as his hand held hers as she saw him caress himself a little and yet she opened her legs, his hungry expression meeting her slightly pleading one.

The feeling as he was inside her not unfamiliar but pleasing the sounds of the couple mingling as he kissed her again the brief moment of time to geen hung between them.

But now their shared love seemed to diminish, with every thrust he made, every movement, every lustful sound that escaped them both, their love for each other only blossomed more.

His hands went from her hips to her body every now and then, giving it further attention, knowing that it made her feel good when the pain was taken over by the pleasure.

,,Don't stop" she only breathlessly brought out, wrapping her legs around his hips to feel him deeper after a few minutes.

The healers were right love could banish pain and how love could banish it, rarely had she felt him so intimately and arousing it was something a look at her husband told her they should both do more often.

Her hands shakily detached themselves from the fur and scratched along his torso, his grunts letting her know he was the one enjoying the pain, something she gave him more of.

His thrusts increasing whenever she pulled at his light-coloured hair, scratching along his skin, his back streaked with red.

The couple gave themselves to each other, savouring everything and the sounds that echoed off the stone walls as if they were looking at each other from afar.

She heard him stammer ,,I love you" almost sensing that he was close to his climax, a tingling sensation in her stomach that she could only answer with a nod as she pulled him even tighter against her.

The moments passed and the movements became more hurried and intense until the stifled cry was lost in the kiss as the couple shuddered and clung to each other as the climax came over them both.

A moment in which the pain and the blood didn't matter, his care didn't matter, they held each other and only separated after a short moment.

He lay down next to her with a slight grin and put his hand on hers, ,,The gods should honour us like this more often" and the couple had to laugh again when she turned to him and held his hand.

But no more pain plagued her as she gave him a kiss on the forehead and now knew that love could conquer even the pain of blood.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

@cottoncandiescupcakes , @somepallings , @k-yurieee , @qardasngan , @sweeteststing , @songbirdmunson , @abundance-of-fic-reblogs , @bel0ved-heretic

[misayani]

Thanos smut hcs? LOL TYYY🩷

— THANOS SMUT HCS

◜ featuring ... thanos (choi su-bong  / player 230)

𔗨 author's note — mmmh first male x fem reader on my blog. probably the most lewd ive written so far AND -!!!! i just realized that my anonymous asks werent on until someone pointed it out, so theres that.. i turned it on!! [lowercase intended]

warning: smut & slight angst [it's thanos, expect the worst]

- bondage..... whew starting off strong !!

- literally doesnt give two shits. he would use zip ties to tie your wrists for all he cares. 

- his apartment is nasty as fuck

- dont even get me started on the fucked up couch he has in his apartment with disgusting stains that are probably permanent at this point 

- spits in your mouth mid fucking

- would sometimes spit the ecstasy pill from his mouth to yours 

- cigarettes after sex? nah, cigarettes during sex.

- and to you, it makes the experience even better

- the thing is, when you're high, you won't give a fuck about anything that's happening around you

- public sex !! he's the type to shamelessly fuck inside clubs

- would blow the smoke directly onto your face as you cough

- loooves to cum on your face. not on your stomach, not inside, not anywhere else but your face.

- he loves it messy and dirty. he feels pride just from seeing you in front of him kneeled down and face covered with his cum

- degrading.

- you will NEVER hear even a single praise come out from this man's mouth. even after you give him the best head he's ever had

- angry sex, mostly caused by you getting hit on by someone else and just thanos being possessive 

- its no biggie though, he's just giving you a small reminder who you belong to <33

- man's a sadist. he would just laugh at you for crying because of overstimulation

- your safe word won't work on him the first time you say it. second time, he'll act deaf and will continue pounding into you. although when he sees that you're clearly in distress, he'll make considerations and will pull out and make you suck him off instead

- if you're being too hard headed and bratty during sex, 100% he'll slap you across the face hard so you'd finally get your shit together

- doesn't care whether you get yourself off or not. all that matters to him is that he gets to cum and thats it.

- im sorry but he knows nothing about aftercare

- he would just stub his cigarette, throw it somewhere, and fall straight to sleep

- you'd stare at his sleeping figure blankly with no thoughts inside your head

- but you felt empty and lonely. not realizing yet that such a small pill can change someone's way of acting.

- you truly deserve better.

thanos' breathing slowed, deepening into his sleep. you lay beside him, body still tingling from the overwhelming sensations he gave you just earlier. silence swallows you, leaving you staring blankly at his peaceful face.

it's strange—the way your chest feels so hollow, an ache you couldn't quite place, like you'd expect for something that was never going to come. he'd been so alive just moments ago, what the hell happened? now he is gone, lost into unconsciousness, leaving you alone in the weight of aftermath.

@misayani

[sschizoid]

Hello :3 may I pretty please request like, hcs of the tulpar crew traveling together?

I mean imagine this, they gather all their last paychecks from Pony Express and decide a place to go, how, what to see...etc

I just think I'd have some fun dynamics

omg hehe this ask has so much room for fun interpretation, like where are they going, how they're getting there, etc. but I think I'm gonna narrow this down tooooo badadadadadadadadum AIRPORT! where they're going is up to you!

-- curly

he's what you would call an Airport Dad™. wakes up EARLY to pack everything into the car and to pick everyone else up. keeps worrying that they're going to be late but they end up arriving 3 hours before boarding

overpacks. has a checked luggage just barely within weight parameters, as well as a carry-on AND a backpack. he packs for every scenario, every weather type, every activity

he's the one that bought everybody's ticket and holds onto them for safekeeping. he's also got one of those airline SkyMile credit cards, so he got everyone a pretty good deal regarding expenses!

brought one of those neck pillows since he gets stiff pretty easily when sitting down for too long. also brought one of those cooling eye masks and comfy socks. bro is the plane equivalent of a passenger princess

jimmy

he was still sleeping when curly got to his house. oh also he forgot to pack the night before, so he makes everyone wait in the car for 30 extra minutes while he takes his sweet ass time shoving random shit into a backpack

probably the least traveled of the group. his family never took vacations when he was growing up, so the furthest he's been from home is just a state or two, and even then it was just for work and not leisure

takes up as much space as humanly possible, stretching his legs, spreading his elbows wide, etc. if the person sitting next to him tries to ask for a bit more space, he puts on headphones after the fact then pretends he doesn't hear them

definitely the type to glare at the mother of a crying baby in hopes of making her feel embarrassed or ashamed

anya

super forgetful and cannot remember if she packed toiletries or not. oh god, what about socks? did she pack socks ??? ends up spending $50 on various airport-priced items just in case

lowkey really scared of flying. she's done it tons of times before but still white-knuckle clenches the armrests during takeoff

brings lots of books. this is a great time for her to catch up on the reading she's been putting off with all of her work and schooling

never gets to reading said books, and instead sleeps like a log the whole trip. she's tired !!

swansea

was the only person ready in time when curly came around to pick everyone up. like, standing outside on the porch, bags at his feet ready

waits 20 minutes in line for coffee, but when he gets to the front and sees that a 12oz black drip is $5 he turns around and walks away. complains about airport prices for the next few hours, talking about "highway robbery" until they're finally boarded

"remember to pop your ears, you'll get a headache if you don't"

aisle seat. NEEDS an aisle seat. if the ticket curly bought him isn't in the aisle, he'll shamelessly ask other passengers to switch with him. he likes the extra leg room and ease of access to the bathroom

daisuke

makes the metal detector go off multiple times. "oops, forgot my belt!" BEEP "oh, man, that's probably my keys, sorry." BEEP "oh shit, my phone!" BEEP "waitwaitwait hold on hold on—"

his goal is to be that one person you see in passing at the airport that is just the most beautiful stranger you've ever seen. his hair? styled. his skin? dewy. his fit? fun, colorful, and literally insane for the setting. he dresses to impress!

checking out all the shops and food options before boarding, just straight wandering off without saying anything. comes back 20 min later with a keychain that says "I LEFT MY ❤️ AT ______ INTERNATIONAL AIRPORT" because he thinks its funny as fuck

insists he take the window seat but keeps the curtain closed the entire flight because the sun is casting a glare on his handheld

--

THANK UUUU for your request, I hope this is sufficient! if anyone else has any requests; my asks are open !! ⁽⁽ଘ( ˊωˋ )ଓ⁾⁾

[consistantly-changing]

[Image descriptions in order: a tumblr reblog chain which says:

082: does anyone else want yaoi cocaine

catfanblog: I know that op is probably joking, however I don't understand what's funny...fetishizing mlm relationships isn't funny it is a serious problem. I think you all need to read posts before you reblog them, I'm truly hoping most people reblogging didn't see the "yaoi" part or something. Jfc I thought we were past this

neotrances: kinda homophobic to be agaisnt yaoi cocaine

catfanblog: You have blood on your hands]

[An anonymous tumblr ask which says: hey people are harassing the guy who commented on the yaoi cocaine post could u like get them to stop or something? he seems genuinely upset abt it

neotrances replies: ?? i'm not making anyone do anything and five other people responded to him / were sending him messages before i said anything in the post sorry that's happening but like. i literally did not say anything other than yaoi cocaine

catfanblog reblogs with an image of an anime boy crying in the rain.]

[A tumblr post by vergak which says: Anyways who else wants some yaoi ibuprofen?

catfanblog reblogs saying: Stop tormenting me. Please. I am asking nicely]

[A tumblr reblog chain which says

vampirate: ok so aside from this person does anyone else want yaoi cocaine

catfanblog: You aren't funny, kid.

atrisrising: but is the yaoi cocaine free?

catfanblog: Be honest. Would you be sad if I died. Would you feel guilty]

[An anonymous tumblr ask which says: very insensitive of you to say that my boyfriend is on a yaoi morphine drip at the yaoi hosptial because of a yaoi cocaine overdose :/

vergak replies with a fanart of Sonic the hedgehog unconscious in a hospital bed with Knuckles standing beside him and crying.

catfanblog reblogs saying in all capitals: enough about the yaoi drugs enough about the yaoi drugs]

[A tumblr post which says: All of you want me dead

catfanblog reblogs saying: All I do is reblog saying my opinion and everyone had to attack me. Just leave mlm alone

#vent tw]

[Tags which say #tw truama #traumacore #depressed #actually insane #pain #suffering #anger #hatred #sadness #yaoi cocaine]

[A screenshot of a post on catfanblog's blog, which shows seven images of crying anime boys.]

[A tumblr post by getouuu, showing a drawing of two anime boys making out (who might be L and Light from Death Note), with the caption "Yaoi moment." Below the image they say: catfanblog this could be us if we took some Yaoi cocaine and relaxed <3

catfanblog reblogs saying: i'm actually feeling something between us... should we explore this? let me know]

[A screenshot of DMs between vergak and catfanblog, which say:

vergak: Legitimately brilliant satire. Id love to share a yaoi blunt with you.

catfanblog: i want you]

Yaoi cocaine saga

[atleastpleasetelephone]

53. holding the other’s jaw with Greg Nolan please 🫶🏾

A/N: Yessssss Greg!! This is just a little drabble.

Afters

Pairing: Greg Nolan x housewife!reader

Word count: 729

TWs: Reader cries, there's a little bit of dirty talk. Think that's it!

Greg shrugs his jacket on and straightens his tie. “Gotta go, baby.”

You’ve literally just pulled a pot pie out of the oven, and you huff in frustration as you place it on the pot holder. Putting the oven mitts on the side, you smooth your apron down over your dress and try to keep it together. Turning around with your best attempt at a smile. 

“But it’s dinner time, Greg.”

This is the third time this week he’s had to go back to work in the evening. You’re starting to get worried. 

“Sorry, baby. Have to get this photoshoot done.”

He grabs his camera bag and slings it over his shoulder. 

“But I made chicken pot pie. It’s your favourite.” You know you sound whiny but you can’t help it. Tears are shining in your eyes but he’s too busy grabbing the things he needs to notice. 

Stepping towards you, he kisses the top of your head lovingly. “I’m sure it’ll be just as good warmed up later, honey.”

“N-no it won’t!” You exclaim, frustrated and upset. “You know it won’t! It’s better now, just out of the oven!” Tears spill down your face as you rage about the pie, hands balling into fists. 

Greg blinks in surprise. He knows you like to cook, and you like to spoil him with your delicious food, but he didn’t think you’d be so upset about a pot pie. He wipes your tears with a thumb. 

“C’mon darlin’. I promise I’ll love the pie just as much when I come back later.”

You push his hand away, angrily. “It’s not about the pie!”

“It’s… not?”

“You don’t love me anymore, do you? You’re seeing someone else.” It comes out in a rush and you tremble with emotion.

Your lower lip wobbles, and then suddenly you’re really sobbing, body shaking as the tears flow down your cheeks, bringing your hands to your face to try and control it but it’s far beyond control at this point. All of your fears and insecurities come pouring out of you in the form of salty water. You’ve always been a little worried that you’re not pretty enough for Greg, but ever since he started the late nights at work, coming home and going out again, you’ve been convinced that he’s found someone better. No-one needs to do this much photography, surely?

Greg is shocked, letting his bag fall off his shoulder and catching it just in time to place it on the floor. How on earth can you think he doesn’t love you anymore? Because of the pie?

He gently prises your hands away from your face and sets them by your sides, before raising his large hand to your jaw, holding it gently. When you keep looking down, sniffing, he carefully tilts your face towards his. Your eyes find his blue ones, reluctantly. 

“What makes ya think that, baby?” He asks, trying to make his voice as soothing as possible. 

You groan. “All these late nights. You can’t be taking photos. Unless they’re photos of some other girl.”

He blinks slowly. Well, he is taking photos of other girls, that’s his job. But he decides now isn’t the time to be literal. 

“I promise you I’m jus’ doin’ my job. The new boss is fussier than the old one and he keeps wantin’ things redone. And tomorrow mornin’ is the deadline for publishin’. I’m sorry, baby. I don’t want ta work either.” He looks deep into your eyes as his grip on your jaw tightens. “Can’t think of anything I’d like ta do more than eat your gorgeous home-cookin’ and then put ya between my legs under the dining table for your desert…” 

You stop crying abruptly as warmth spreads between your own legs. “R-really?”

“Really, baby.” His thumb brushes over your lips. “I haveta go, but I’ll be back as soon as I can for that dinner.” He wiggles an eyebrow suggestively. “And afters.” Pressing a kiss to your lips he pulls back a little, his hand still on your jaw, making sure he’s got your full attention. “I love you, darlin’.”

“I love you too, Greg," you whisper, reassured.

“You’re the only one for me, baby,” he tells you as he lets your jaw go, reluctantly, and picks his bag back up again. “I’ll be thinkin’ of ya waiting here for me.”

***

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[corkinavoid]

The Tip Of The Iceberg · Owl City

Grumpy x sunshine

Winter wonderland

DPxDC Love at Frost Sight

Jason's favorite season of the year was fall. Early fall, to be exact, when the trees become red and golden, and the air smells of pumpkin spice because of all the coffeeshops simultaneously deciding it's the time to bring it back once again, and it's not yet cold enough to wear a coat, but just cool enough to put on a comfy sweater.

On the other hand, his least favorite season was winter. All of it, starting from late November and ending in early April. His bones ached in the cold that no coat could manage to keep out, the roads were always slippery, no matter how much salt was thrown over them, and he despised the amounts of hot tea he had to drink to keep himself from freezing to death.

Not to mention the lack of sunlight, the vitamins he had to take daily, the shiver that ran down his body when he stepped out of the shower and-

"You know, if you keep frowning like that, people are going to start thinking I've brought you here under the threat of a gun."

Jason blinks and tears his gaze away from the dimly lit, snowy scenery of Robinson Park and looks to Jazz, who is walking just beside him, a steaming cup of coffee in her fingers. She looks beautiful, even wearing a puffy purple jacket that makes her look like an off-color penguin and a knitted hat that hides all her red hair.

Jason huffs and rubs his forehead, smoothing the wrinkle between his eyebrows manually.

"You still hadn't told me why are we taking a walk in the park instead of doing literally anything else," he reminds her, and Jazz smiles, holding her chin higher.

"I have my reasons," she tells, her voice full of mischief. Jason rolls his eyes and hides his freezing palms deeper in his pockets. "We're almost there, don't roll your eyes at me," Jasmine shorts a short laugh and pokes him in the side.

Almost where, he wants to ask, because he is pretty sure she can't show him anything he hasn't seen before in here. He is a Gothamite, after all, and she just moved here two years ago, and Robinson Park couldn't have changed that much since his whole dying and coming back act.

But then, Jazz finishes her coffee in a few large gulps, tossing the empty cup into the nearest bin, and takes his elbow, all but dragging him forward, off the path and into the who knows where.

Jason stumbles over his feet but catches himself quickly enough to not faceplant the snow. Yet, that doesn't help in the slightest with figuring out where they are going because, well, it's half-past-six, which means it's already rather dark around them even with all of the street lights, and Jazz can be really fast when she wants to, and-

"Here," his impossible girlfriend suddenly stops, so abruptly like she's just ran into a wall. Jason, despite all his vigilante training, is not capable of canceling the laws of inertia on command, so he takes a few more steps forward to slow down.

"And what exactly is here?" He shakes his head, trying very hard not to snap, because he is cold, and he doesn't like surprises, and Jazz can be frustrating more than she likes to admit. But, before she can answer, and before Jason is able to put all that winter irritation into words, there's a snap.

Jason turns his head sharply, looking for the source of it just out of habit.

And halts, feeling his eyes go wide and his head completely empty.

The lights appear one by one, a slow, charming process of illuminating the small clearing they've run into. Warm and fuzzy, like tiny stars, or maybe fairy lights, but with no strings to hold them, they light up the trees and the sparkling, untouched snow under their feet. Jason blinks. The sight that he's grown to associate only with those decorative glass balls full of fake snow doesn't shatter.

And, to be fair, Jason knew winter could be beautiful - he's seen countless pictures and movies, and he understood the appeal it had on some people. But he's never really felt it, what with winters in Gotham, even at Christmas Eve, being more glum and gray than sparkling white and twinkling pretty.

But this is exactly that.

The tall trees covered in white snow, the gentle fall of snowflakes over them, the bright yellow lights that surround them.

"Close your mouth, love, you'll catch a cold," he hears Jazz say with a fond, soft laugh, and only then he realizes he is gaping.

His mouth closes back with a snap as he turns to face his girlfriend.

"How did you..." he trails off, not even sure what he's asking. How did she bring a fairytale into life? How did she find this place? How did she manage to bring him here?..

Jazz's teal eyes hold the reflections of countless warm lights around them, and she is grinning from ear to ear, her hand finding Jason's to intertwine their fingers.

"Danny helped," she admits, "But I just wanted you to see it. See why I love winter - not just because my brother is a living icicle, but because winter is magic, in a sense. It's only in winter that you can feel what's really warm and what's not."

Jason has half of a thought to ask her what she means, but he gets it just a moment before the words fall out of his mouth.

Because this, standing in the silent snowfall among the tiny lights of miniature stars, holding Jazz's hand in his, is warm. Not in a literal sense - his skin is still moments away from freezing - but something inside his chest feels like a tiny, flickering flame.

And that flame makes him smile.

"It's very pretty," he says, not taking his eyes off Jazz, and watches her cheeks become pink.

Somehow, he is certain it's not because of the cold.

~•~•~•~

This was written to not one but two Owl City songs. The first one was, as requested, 'The Tip of The Iceberg', and the second was 'Peppermint Winter', my all-time favorite winter song.

And here's the additional aesthetic!

Danny, who is responsible for the gently falling snowflakes and keeping the lights from going out, sitting invisible in a tree above them: what great lengths do I go for you, Jazz, you better get me something nice for Christmas or I swear to Ancients-

[plasticfreckles]

🪶 think-ception masturbation rookanis enjoy 🪶

He knows why his entire being feels off. Too much wine, too much coffee, paired with too little food and too little rest.

It dulls his mind, clouds his judgement. Makes him cold in the feet and warm in the face. Stirs something else.

As numb as his brain is, he can't forget the sight of Rook during battle, moving the same as any Crow and yet somehow substantially more graceful than anything he'd ever seen, even though it moved her hairpart from just above her right ear to the middle of her crown, had her chest heaving trying to catch breath and a ghost of sweat forming on her forehead. There's a flash of green and purple from the depths of her cleavage and her many necklaces stick to her freckled skin.

She'd caught him looking at her, with her wide eyes and unnervingly steady gaze, mid-fight, and flashed him a quick, but all the more genuine smile before she ducked away from an incoming suckerpunch and pinned the Venatori to the shack behind them with their own blade through their shoulder.

With an almost nonchalant gesture, she'd flicked her part back above her ear, though her curls were dripping with rain and blood and sticking to her skull from the center again by the end of the skirmish.

Her gleaming aura, despite all their struggles, despite her being soaked to the bone with the diluted blood of others, stayed with him the entire day.

And so did she. Wiped down the dining table, set the dishes, refilled the water carafes. She'd briefly, fleetingly touched his forearm as she moved past him in that small cooking corner of the hall, reaching for the balsamic and the herb salt, fingers lingering for barely more than a heartbeat, but the memory of their weight on his skin burning like acid in his throat.

If she has anything to say about how he doesn't stop to enjoy the fine wine, doesn't stop to consider the texture of the pasta sauce, she doesn't mention it. She'll probably chalk it up to a long day, or Spite being especially grating, and patiently wait for Lucanis to come to her for venting of his own volition.

Though, to be fair, Spite is especially grating tonight, oscillating around her so closely that Lucanis cannot look away to ignore him. To ignore Spite would also mean to ignore Rook, and she's done nothing wrong.

Next time you sleep, Spite taunts, trying to go for Rook's eartip with his teeth but catching hair instead. Rook doesn't know the way a strand of purple sticks out from her head just behind her ear. I will tell her.

Absolutely not, Lucanis replies, in this strange space they share inside his mind where he does not speak out loud, but Spite hears him anyway.

Rook won't mind. She won't hurt you. Doesn't want you hurt. I'm not hurting, I'm longing. You're hurting. Us both. Rook will help.

Lucanis knows that Spite's correct, and that's what's truly terrifying him. If he asked, she would, with no regard about what it might mean for her.

Rook picks up her plate, then his, then Bellara's, puts them on the tablet and walks off into the strange, ceilingless scullery.

Spite follows like a shade behind her, crouching down when she stops to open the door, tablet balanced against her hip to free a hand.

She smells of it again. Spite's words are muffled, somehow, inside his mind, as he pushes his nose between Rook's buttcheeks. Smells like you. Between her legs. Coffee and cologne and stupid useless longing. Don't be ridiculous. There's no way.

Even if he meant it in a literal way, that would mean Rook snuck into his things and put his cologne on her genitalia, and she's smart enough to know that's a terrible idea. And Lucanis would probably smell it himself. He never uses much of it, but the cedarwood is rather pungent. There's no cedar in the Fade.

Yes, she does. Smells like you. You smell like her, between your legs. Soil and chocolate and comfort.

Lucanis knows for a fact he hasn't snuck into Rook's things, and he's not worked with chocolate in days.

She does it. Thinks about you. Wants us to touch her. The scullery door is long closed, but Spite still crouches by the door, knees by his ears and hands on the floor.

His mind wanders, before he can stop himself, to fingers sneaking into pants, to hair over cushions, curling toes and cheeks pressed into fabric.

The inseam of his slacks starts to feel uncomfortable against the swelling muscle.

Lucanis pours himself some more wine.

-

When he finds himself on his cot, he doesn't fight himself as his hands slip under his clothes, as his mind walks out of the pantry, across the grounds and into the Lighthouse.

Imagining himself perched on that green sofa he's at most seen five times is a lot easier, suddenly. Somehow. Because right now, he's more alcohol and caffeine than flesh and blood, probably.

He doesn't feel dirty or wrong for thinking of her, this time. He knows he should, now more than ever before.

Because this time, his fantasies have her naked, her knees by her face and a hand between her legs.

He can't find it in himself to care.

Her hair is parted from the center, her chest heaving and a ghost of sweat on her forehead. Her necklaces pile up in the dip of her neck, the green and purple crumpled up somewhere in his periphery.

This Rook twirls her nipples the same moment he touches his own, claws her fingers into the supple flesh of her freckled breasts and pulls her knees a little closer to herself.

What exactly she looks like, between her legs, Lucanis can't imagine, but she runs a wet forefinger around her clit in quick, tight circles. Her legs uncurl, her toes flex against his leg, she pushes the back of her head into the cushion beneath her. Her moan is quiet and choked.

It makes him reach around his sack and squeeze.

If this were real (it isn't, it can't ever be), he'd lean over and kiss her open mouth, uncaring of their teeth colliding or the strain in his low back, maybe dare to let go of himself and let her teach him what she needs. He'd feel the soft warmth of her chest under his, the give of her ass as he lifts her legs, one over his hip, the other over the back of the sofa. She'd complain about the way her heel collides with the bookshelf behind that, but there'd be no bite to it, and the brief pain would be forgotten by the time his hand finds her and hers finds him.

But it isn't real, so he contents himself with the thrill of his imagination. He pumps into his hand once, twice, and Fantasy Rook curls two fingers into her wet, glistening cunt.

They fuck themselves in sync. Unceremoniously, almost, with no thought other than taking the edge off. (That edge she likes to walk so close to her toes dangle in the air).

And yet, there's something so enchanting, so seductive and effective about it that his decorum has long ago given up the fight.

When he thrusts slow, her fingers still and she grinds down, and when she returns her attentions to her clit, his own fingers move to his balls.

He whispers her name more than once, when he wipes up what he leaks already, tries to use it for the wet of her he can't have.

She's at the same time, more vocal than him and not. She tries his name more than once, when her thumb pushes into her clit just right or her pulls on her nipple shoots that delicious lightning up her spine, but then her voice breaks over the second syllable and she struggles to catch air between thrusts. His nipples abandoned, he runs a finger along his trail, and Rook moves to work clit and cunt at once.

The thought of her breaking with his name in her mouth, thinking of him as she chases her high, maybe pretending it's his fingers pushing her over the edge is what makes him break, writhing and whining.

In his mind, she's flushed pink all over, her chest is heaving, some hair sticks to the forehead on her brow. Her eyes are half-closed and glassy.

She looks so happy.

He turns his face to his side, tries to choke the sounds out of him with what he can reach of his pillow.

-

He wakes some time later, both hands still in his pants, even somewhat rested for once.

After cleaning himself up the best he can without water or towel or change of clothes, he walks out of the pantry to see Rook, already armed with breakfast and having an animated conversation with Davrin.

She smiles at him, small and tired and close-lipped, around her spoon.

"Good morning, Lucanis," she says, nodding toward him just barely.

"Good morning, Rook. Davrin."

Her hair's parted down the middle and a hint of green and purple lace peeks out the deep cleavage of her shirt.

"You were in my dreams last night."

🪶

@victias slow but steady or whatever <3

part 2 to this, based on this

I have no excuse exept im v horny for this man.

[~rina]

[morphean42]

Falsettos unpopular opinions because two people asked for this and honestly I don’t give a fuck anymore. I want to state this isn’t in response to anyone in particular, though, and if you get offended by any of these think about why. For a good reason? Please tell me and I’d love to debate it, truly. For a petty reason? You’re simply part of the problem.

1. They are Jewish. End of story. If I see anything related to Christianity or Christmas or whatever the fuck with them… shut up. Yes Whizzer is half-Jewish, yes in the revival Cordelia isn’t Jewish (WHICH BRINGS ME TO ANOTHER POINT ILL GET INTO LATER), yes they are most likely secular as evidenced by Mendel’s “religions just a trap” and ‘Days Like This’, no this does not give you the right to ignore their ETHNICITY AND CULTURE.

2. It’s okay to like the revival more. It’s not okay to ignore the original just because you get blinded by conventionally attractive men. Going to my Cordelia point, she’s Jewish in the original, her line ‘Shiksa caterer’ is ‘Kosher caterer’. Again it’s fine if your headcanons and fanfics and fanarts are based on the revival, I love it too, but stop acting like it’s the only version.

3. Whizzer’s entire personality does not revolve around being gay. He’s not a sassy twink. He’s a full grown man with issues that need to be addressed. Again, I reiterate, he is not a twink. Stop. Drawing. Him. Skinny. And. Hairless. I don’t care if ‘ oh but but that’s just my art style!’ Shut up.

4. Correlated to the above point, here are things Whizzer is not: a prostitute, a drug addict, relying on Marvin for everything, a twink (saying that again to get it through peoples fucking skulls), innocent. I’m 100% positive if the people who had these headcanons watched the OBC version of the show they’d never continue to advocate for them… once more I’m begging you guys to look past Andy Randy’s beautiful face and actually use critical thinking skills when it comes to Whizzer.

5. Short but (not) sweet: don’t claim to understand Marvin if you haven’t watched In Trousers. Just don’t.

6. If you flat out hate any character in the show, you’re wrong. Yes I’m still mad about the Mendel thing; if you think any one character is worse than the rest and isn’t just a fully human person with flaws and nuance, you don’t understand the musical as well as you claim.

7. It’s not the ‘gay’ musical. If you like falsettos for Whizzvin and nothing else, please, just… I don’t even know. There’s so much more to it than ‘ooo boys kissing.’ Please grow up, this leads into a whole other point but fetishisation is never okay, no matter who does it.

8. So many people treat Trina as either a perfect angel or just the side character in the way of the gay people. She’s an entire person, an entire character with flaws and hardship and terrible actions done by her and to her. Treat my homophobic queen with the respect she deserves, and acknowledge her faults too. It’s more misogynistic to treat her as perfect when she has issues too than just saying ‘she’s never done anything wrong’.

9. Stop making AIDS jokes.

10. This next one is probably the most iffy on the list. I will never be one to police fandom and creation, you can engage with material in any fucking way you like it literally doesn’t matter to me… but I dislike AUs. Now, I’ll always enjoy a little fun, adding in a twist like lesbian Whizzvin, or enjoying a feel good college AU. But. Especially for Falsettos the canon events are so fucking important and cannot be disregarded as casually as some do. AIDS is an extremely important part of the story, as well as the fact that both Marvin and Whizzer are men. I’m trans myself, but I dislike making them so simply because everything about their characters, all the characters, are so highly specific and important to take these aspects away is to disrespect the message of the musical.

11. It’s very important Mendel is straight. I see some people headcanon him as bisexual or trans or so on, and this just feels so wrong to me. Trina and Mendel are straight and that’s why their acceptance and love for the others in the Tight Knit Family is so important, especially Trina struggles with moving away from the idea that these ‘homosexual tendencies’ are wrong. They are straight but they love Whizzvin and the lesbians just as much as anyone else.

12. This one is so petty and I accept that, but… HIS NAME IS NOT MARVIN GARDENS. GARDEN IS A JOKE CHRISTIAN BORLE MADE BASED ON MONOPOLY. Jesus guys please just stop it it’s so stupid, William Finn didn’t have a last name for Marvin on purpose, and though I can’t do more than theorise what that purpose was, Gardens is so stupid. It’s not even funny. Same goes for Cohen, which just is odd. The only name I could begin to accept is Falsetto, and even then… just work around the last name in your fics.

12 1/2. SIDE TANGENT Jason would never take Weisenbachfeld as his last name. As a child of divorce… no. He’ll never view Mendel as a true father over his own dad, especially after Falsettoland, and he wouldn’t take that name. Hell, I’d known my ex step-father since I was two and I’d never have taken his last name. So, please, I never want to see Jason Weisenbachfeld again. That’s just not how it works.

At the end of the day this is just me alone in my room bitching… I just hope these points resonate with others.

[coraniaid]

I know that the idea that Amy Madison is secretly in love with Willow is not canon.

I know the show only really embraces the witches-as-lesbians metaphor in Season 4 (almost a year after Amy's last pre-rat appearance). I know it also largely drops that metaphor (in favour of the unfortunate "magic is a bad, addictive drug" subplot) at pretty much the exact time Amy returns to the show. I know we're not supposed to read anything into the fact Amy was the first girl Willow ever did magic with, or that Amy is introduced to us as Willow's childhood friend, or that The Wish establishes that Willow and Amy hang out off-screen without Buffy, or that every one of the high school episodes Amy appears in starts with her entering the scene with Willow or saying hello to Willow before anyone else.

I know it's just a coincidence that Xander discovers Amy is a witch and threatens to blackmail her over this secret (in her very second episode on the show) just one episode after he discovers Larry is gay which makes Larry assume he was threatening to blackmail him over this secret (in Larry's very second episode on the show). I know we're not supposed to ask why, still in her second appearance on the show, when she's been a practicing witch for at most a bit under a year, and probably much less time, Amy is already able to complain to Xander how difficult it is to make a spell that will "make somebody love you for all eternity", or why she knows that "intent has to be pure with love spells" or who she might be thinking about when she says "if you don't want to be with her forever, then what's the point?".

I know we're probably meant to take Amy's claim (in Season 6's Smashed) that she was hoping Larry would ask her to the Prom literally, and just ignore -- as I suspect the writers did -- the fact that Larry is very heavily implied to have come out months before Amy turned herself into a rat (he was talking about coming out even before her second appearance on the show!). We're not meant to think Amy might have some reason to lie to Willow about this.

I know we're meant to see Season 6 Amy as the evil magical junkie who introduces Willow to her dealer (and just not think about exactly when Amy is meant to have first met Rack). I know we're meant to assume Amy only spends time with Willow in order to take advantage of her, and ignore the fact that Willow turns Amy back to a human and starts going out dancing with her mere days (possibly the day after!) being broken up with by her girlfriend. And that she does this immediately after promising Amy the Rat that she'll find her "a nice companion" who she can "love and play with".

I know that, unlike me, the show fundamentally does not care about Amy as a character at all.

But what I keep forgetting is that "Amy is secretly in love with Willow" is not even a particularly popular bit of fanon. As far as I can tell, most people seem to prefer the default canon interpretation, which is ... uh. Amy is just some random girl who shows up with a new hairstyle and backstory and personality every season or so, as and when the plot requires, spends a few years living as a pet in Willow's dorm room but quickly gets over it, and who doesn't particularly want or mean or represent anything else.

Surely after twenty years we can do better?

[riinniies]

ITOSHI SAE X FEM! READER

Yandere! itoshi sae, stranger to.. lover?, possessive behavior, kidnapping, age gap (6 years) , kinda ooc sae (not kinda tho), Weird Reader, Sae and Reader (not) literally the same but with different fonts. I'm sorry if it's weird, English is not my first language.

You were just an ordinary girl who, for some inexplicable reason, suddenly found yourself in.. a misfortune

Words count: 5531

Actually i'm just lazy to made it into chapters so this is the whole things.

Oh, and there's bonus chapter link in the end. I hope you liked it!

My writings

• Day One

On the first day you were kidnapped, you were angry, rebellious, terrified, and cried. You did everything you could to escape—breaking a window and running as far as possible from the house in the middle of the forest, even trying to ride the kidnapper’s motorcycle. But nothing worked.

The kidnapper, who introduced himself as Itoshi Sae, simply stood watching you with his arms crossed, leaning against the wall. His gaze was calm, as if he knew you couldn’t escape him.

Like now, your leg had been shot with a rifle, and you fell off the motorcycle. Your head felt dizzy, and soon after, you heard footsteps approaching. His tall figure stopped in front of you, and then he knelt down to pick you up.

“It’s only the first day, but you’re quite persistent, aren’t you?”

You felt your vision darken as his words faded.

---

• Day Seven

“Open your mouth,” he said. You glared at him in annoyance but still complied. At the moment, you were sitting on a sofa in the living room.

Because of the gunshot wound in your leg, you couldn’t go anywhere or do anything by yourself, not even bathe without his help.

He was feeding you lunch. It had been seven days since you were confined in this luxurious house in the middle of the forest, and you were starting to give up. He truly intended to kidnap and trap you here. Sometimes you wondered—how did he prepare everything so perfectly? Especially since you’d never met this man before.

Lost in thought, reflecting on the bizarre events that had unfolded, you noticed Sae’s calm gaze fixed on you. He continued feeding you until the plate was empty.

“Sae,” you called. He raised an eyebrow.

“Hm?”

“I… have a question.”

There was silence for a moment before you heard a sigh.

“What?”

You swallowed hard, feeling both scared and nervous.

“W-why did you kidnap me?”

Silence. Again, no answer for several moments. But then you felt his cold hand lift your chin, forcing you to look into his teal eyes, which were, annoyingly, stunningly beautiful.

“Because I… love you.”

You froze at his words. You couldn’t believe what you just heard—it didn’t make sense.

• Day 30

Your leg was starting to heal, but you still couldn’t walk unaided. Sae continued helping you walk, and not just that—he helped you eat, drink, bathe, and everything else.

You felt frustrated. You had tried everything to get information about your whereabouts, but Sae seemed to know your intentions and kept his lips sealed whenever you asked.

For 30 days, your life here had been relatively normal—except for being shot in the leg when you tried to escape. You ate, watched TV, and read comics. Somehow, he knew you liked reading, as the house had a large library filled with novels and comics you loved.

Sae never did anything inappropriate to you. Maybe… not yet? You weren’t sure. Even when he bathed you, he didn’t try anything. He genuinely just bathed you, and you weren’t thinking about this because you wanted him to touch you, okay?

---

"(Name)," Sae’s deep voice called from behind the library door. You put your book down and replied, "Yes? I’m here." You waved your hand. Since you couldn’t walk to him, Sae approached you and sat beside you.

You looked at him curiously. “What’s wrong? This is unusual.”

“In two weeks, I’ll be leav–”

“For where?” you cut him off, feeling panicked. Where would he go? Was he leaving you? Alone? Why did you care?

“Only for three days,” he said. You sighed in relief.

Sae then looked at you intently. “Three days.”

• Day 44

Today was the first day Sae left you alone. He left plenty of supplies and even gave you a phone! Though it could only be used to call or text him, it was still exciting.

After spending so much time here, you began to learn things about Sae. He was a soccer player—actually, a world-class soccer player. That shocked you. Sure, he had muscles and good looks, but you had assumed he was a model, not an athlete.

How did you find out? In the library, you came across a thin biography with Sae’s full name on the cover.

You learned he was 24 years old, six years older than you, and had a younger brother named Itoshi Rin. He was also the eldest sibling, just like you. Reading his biography made you miss your family. Weren’t they looking for you?

Your phone rang, breaking your thoughts. Without looking, you already knew who was calling.

“Yes, Sae?”

There was silence on the other end. You raised an eyebrow.

“Sae—”

“Yes, hold on,” Sae interrupted. You sighed in relief, thinking something might be wrong.

“What is it?” you asked again. He cleared his throat.

“Talk to me,” he said.

Talk? You were confused. He was the one who called, so why did he want you to talk?

“Uh… what are you doing?” you asked spontaneously.

“Training.”

Practice, he said. You nodded, even though you knew Sae couldn’t see your nod.

"I saw in your biography, you… are a soccer player, right?"

"Yes."

You sighed hearing Sae's answer. Why did he always answer your questions so briefly? You felt annoyed.

"So… are you done with practice?"

Tutt.. tutt..

"What? Did he hang up?" You sighed roughly, confused and feeling more annoyed. How could he be like this?

• Day 46

After the strange incident of Sae calling you on the first day he left you alone, he never called again. Right now, you were lying on your bed—along with Sae—and you were bored! You were tired of reading the comics and novels Sae had prepared for you.

A while later, you suddenly heard the sound of the door opening. You sat up. Did Sae finally return? You got off the bed and went outside your room, smiling when you saw Sae.

"Sae!" You ran—well, walked quickly because your leg was still injured—toward him, then stopped just a few steps away. Sae, as usual, just stared at you calmly. He then patted your head without saying anything.

Then, he walked past you and placed his bag on the sofa before sitting down. He looked at you and patted the sofa beside him.

You understood what he meant and sat down next to him.

"Why didn’t you escape?" Sae asked, his gaze serious. You stared at him with a confused look.

What’s wrong with this person? You thought. Was he so exhausted that he was thinking of something… unreasonable?

"How could I escape? I don’t even know where I am, and I know you’ve set up many traps outside."

"You’re smarter than I thought," Sae said, and you glared at him, feeling offended.

"If I were stupid, I would have been killed by you a long time ago." Sae fell silent, seeming to agree with your response.

"Do you know how long you’ve been here?" Sae asked, still staring at you with his annoying gaze.

"Of course, I’ve been counting." Sae raised an eyebrow when he heard your answer. He seemed more interested in this topic.

"Oh, really?"

"Yes, today is day 46, right?" Sae nodded, then smiled.

"Tomorrow, we’ll go somewhere else."

• Day 47

You were on a plane.

You touched the window, marveling at the view. Although you’d flown before—since your mother wasn’t Japanese—it was your first time in business class.

The cabin was eerily empty. It was just you and Sae. Had he booked the entire section just to hide you?

“Sit still,” Sae’s deep voice snapped you out of your thoughts. You adjusted your posture and turned to him.

“Where are we going?”

“To Madrid. Didn’t you hear at the airport?”

You nodded sheepishly. You had forgotten.

“Sae,” you started.

“Hm?”

“Do you… know everything about me?”

“Yes.”

“Liar.”

“Why would I lie?”

You rolled your eyes, frustrated by his bluntness.

“How old am I?”

“Eighteen.”

He was right.

“When’s my birthday?”

“January xx, 2006.”

You froze. How did he know that?

“What’s your favorite food? Katsu curry. Favorite colors? Sky blue and pastel pink. You have one younger brother. Your mother is from (country). You go to XXX High School. Your blood type is AB. You had a crush on a classmate who already has a girlfriend—”

“Okay, stop!” you interrupted, overwhelmed. How did he know all this?

“How… how long have you been stalking me?”

“Since I was 18,” he replied casually.

You widened your eyes. That meant since you were 12.

“Are you a pedophile?”

"How ridiculous," Sae replied, clearly offended.

"But you liked me since you were 18? When you were 18, I was only... 12 years old," you pointed out.

"...I'm not a pedophile," Sae said, his tone firm.

You sighed, exasperated by his defensive response.

"But why do you like me? I don’t remember ever meeting you. From what I read in your biography, you never lived anywhere near where I’ve been."

You swallowed nervously. It was a question you’d asked him many times, but Sae never seemed willing to give a proper answer.

He fell silent for a moment, as if deciding whether to tell you or not. After a few long minutes, he reached out and gently touched the scar on the back of your neck. Your eyes widened in shock. He even knows about that?

"Do you remember?" Sae asked softly.

You shook your head, confused.

"You saved me that day, (Name)," he said quietly.

• Day 48

You sit in a luxury hotel couch in Madrid, gazing out the window at the unfamiliar yet breathtaking city. Sae is in the bathroom, and you finally get a moment to yourself—even though you know it won’t last long.

Sae's words on the plane keep swirling in your mind. "You saved me back then." But how? When? Why can’t you remember?

You massage your temples, trying to connect all the pieces of your life that suddenly changed ever since he kidnapped you.

The bathroom door opens, and Sae steps out with wet hair, a plain white T-shirt clinging to his muscular body. He glances at you briefly before sitting on the sofa beside you.

"Still thinking about it?" he asks bluntly.

"Of course. I don’t even know what really happened. How could I have saved you when I don’t even know you?"

Sae leans back on the sofa, his teal eyes staring at you sharply yet calmly. "It happened when I was 18. I was in Japan for a junior tournament. That night... I had a little accident near a rural road. I fell off my bike."

You fall silent, trying to remember something relevant.

"I could barely move, and people walked by without caring. But you... a little girl with a school bag, ran up to me. You gave me water from your bottle, called someone to help me."

You furrow your brows, and slowly, a vague memory starts to resurface. A teenager with a wound on his leg, blood on the side of his head, and you, panicking, calling for an ambulance. It was him.

"That was you?" you ask, almost in disbelief.

Sae nods slowly, no expression on his face. "Since then, I kept looking for you. I wanted to know who you were and why you helped me so easily. I thought it was just gratitude, but it was more than that."

A chill runs through you. Does that mean ever since that moment, he decided to learn everything about you? Kidnap you?

"But that’s crazy, Sae. You kidnapped me and think that’s normal?"

He moves closer, lifting your chin so you look into his eyes. "I don’t care what you think. I love you, i will make sure you stay by my side. No one can take you from me."

His cold tone makes it hard for you to breathe. Yet, you can’t look away from his teal eyes, full of determination.

"And if I say I can’t love you back?" you challenge, trying to stay calm.

Sae gives a small smile, but it’s not warm. "You don’t have a choice, (Name)."

What are you really facing now?

---

• Day 50

Two days have passed since you arrived in Madrid, and your routine with Sae hasn't changed much. However, your feelings are starting to shift—not entirely hatred, but far from comfort. There’s something about the way Sae watches you, the way he treats you so carefully, that confuses you.

Today, you’re at the stadium where Sae is training. You sit in the VIP stands, surrounded by luxury that makes you uncomfortable. The stadium is empty, with only a few staff members busy on the field.

Sae, in his training jersey, is running on the field. You watch his movements, how he looks so focused and professional—as if this world is his. You can’t deny that he looks incredibly handsome, but you quickly shake your head, trying to erase that thought.

When practice ends, Sae walks toward you. A towel hangs around his neck, and his face is slightly damp with sweat. He sits beside you, placing a water bottle on the small table.

"Did you enjoy the practice?" he asks flatly, as usual.

"I thought you didn’t care about what I think," you reply, trying not to be intimidated.

Sae glances at you, the corner of his lips curling up slightly. "I care, but I don’t need validation from you."

You sigh and turn your face away. "Why did you bring me here? Wouldn’t it have been easier for you to leave me in Japan?"

Sae looks straight ahead, his voice cold but full of resolve. "I don’t trust the world to keep you safe. You’re only safe when you’re near me."

"Don’t you realize how crazy that sounds?" you ask, your voice rising.

He turns to face you, his eyes full of intensity. "Crazy or not, I won’t take the risk of losing you. I don’t care how you see me, (Name). What matters is that you’re here, with me."

You sighs, feeling frustrated and confused. But before you can respond, Sae touches your hand—something he rarely does. His touch is cold but not intimidating.

"You might think I’m a monster, but I’ll never hurt you, (Name). I just want you to be safe."

Those words make you pause. There’s sincerity in his tone that’s hard to ignore. But still, it doesn’t erase the fact that he kidnapped you, trapped you, and now brought you to a foreign country.

"Safe? You think safe means locking me up like a bird in a golden cage?" you ask sarcastically.

Sae doesn’t answer. Instead, he stands up and walks away, leaving you alone in the stands.

• Evening

You’re sitting in your hotel room, staring at the phone in your hand. The phone only has one contact: Sae. You try to find a way out, trying to make use of the situation. If only you could contact someone, anyone...

Think. Is there a way out of this? But the longer you think about it, the clearer it becomes that Sae has planned everything carefully. There’s no easy way out.

Your phone suddenly vibrates. Sae’s name appears on the screen. You quickly pick it up.

"What is it?" you ask coldly.

"I’m in the dining room. Come here," he says without pleasantries, then hangs up.

Reluctantly, you leave your room and head to the hotel dining room. Sae is sitting at the table, with food already served.

"Sit," he orders.

You obey, too tired to resist. Sae looks at you while resting his chin on his hand.

"Starting tomorrow, you’ll go out with me," he suddenly says.

You stare at him, surprised. "Go out? You mean... outside the hotel?"

He nods. "I can’t always watch you up close, but I want you to get used to being near me in public. You’re mine, and I want the world to know that."

His words make you uncomfortable. But before you can respond, he adds, "But don’t misunderstand. I won’t let you go."

You bite your lip, holding back the urge to snap. Sae continues to look at you with a cold yet intense gaze, as if he has already planned everything ahead.

And deep down, you know—this game is far from over.

• Day 51

That morning, you feel anxious even though there’s no clear reason for it. Sae has decided to take you out of the hotel, and while that might seem like a small freedom, you know he’s watching every move you make with intense scrutiny.

You sit on the sofa, staring out the slightly open window of your hotel room. Outside, Madrid looks busy, filled with people who never know about your feelings right now, about the crazy situation you’re in. It almost seems impossible to believe this is your life now.

Your phone vibrates again, startling you. It’s a message from Sae: I’m waiting for you in the lobby.

You sigh and stand up, feeling a bit sluggish, but you know delaying it will only make him more frustrated. Slowly, you leave the room and head to the lobby.

Sae is standing there, dressed in a perfectly fitted black suit. His eyes are on you, and this time, his smile doesn’t look like his usual one—it’s a smile that holds something deeper, perhaps pride.

"We’re going to the city center," he says calmly, "don’t talk too much, and stay close to me."

You nod slightly, though your mind is occupied with all the possible things that might happen when you go out together. Walking through the crowd with no way out, it’s frightening—especially because you know Sae is watching every movement you make.

---

• Madrid City Center

You feel like the world is watching you. Everyone passing by seems unaware that something isn’t quite right between you and Sae. But inside, there’s an unbearable tension. Sae walks beside you with his usual calm demeanor, and you know he feels it too—the feeling of being trapped.

He leads you to various places: a bookstore, a small café that seems to exist just for people like you. All the while, you try not to show your confusion or fear, even though it’s incredibly difficult.

At the bookstore, you stop by a fiction shelf. Reflexively, you begin scanning the books, trying to find an escape in a different story. But Sae stands behind you, closer than you’re comfortable with. His eyes are watching every movement you make, as though he’s monitoring whether you’ll try to run or not.

"There’s no need to pretend," he says softly, startling you. "You want to leave, don’t you?"

You turn your body and look at him, trying to stay calm even though your heart is racing. "I don’t want anything from here. I just... don’t know what to do."

Sae smiles cynically. "You don’t need to know. You just need to follow what I say."

You hold your breath, your emotions mixed. Is this real? What do you even expect from yourself? An impossible escape or simply acceptance of the fate that has already happened?

He keeps watching, like a predator who knows its prey can’t run anywhere. All of your conversations are just a game—a game where you have no full control.

---

• Evening

After several hours, you return to the hotel. You sit on the sofa again, feeling physically and emotionally exhausted. Sae sits next to you, his body so close you can feel the warmth of his skin.

"How does it feel?" he asks in a low voice, looking at you with an unreadable gaze.

"It feels... strange," you answer honestly. "Like I’m living in a different world. Like I can’t find a way out."

Sae nods slowly. "That’s my goal, (Name). This world is too dangerous for you. That’s why I won’t let you go. I’ll protect you by any means necessary."

You look at him, his head slightly lowered as if searching for something inside you. A moment later, he speaks with a deeper voice, almost like a whisper. "I can’t forget you, (Name). From the moment you helped me, I knew. This isn’t just an obsession. I feel... I need you."

You feel a tightness in your chest. Those words are heavy, and you don’t know how to respond. But there’s something different about Sae in that moment. Something more human, more vulnerable. Maybe this is a side of him he rarely shows.

"Why... why can’t you let me go?" you ask, quieter this time.

Sae looks at you deeply. "Because you’re a part of my life now, (Name). And I won’t let you go."

For the first time, you feel that reality—what he says is not just a threat but also a promise, full of determination. And in that silence, you realize that somehow, someday, you will find a way out—or maybe, you’ll be trapped in the world Sae has made for you.

• Day 52

After that meeting, a night full of confusion and tension, you couldn't sleep. Your mind kept spinning, wondering about so many things that remained unanswered. About Sae, about your increasingly chaotic feelings, and most of all... about your family.

You still clearly remember the face of your mother, the warm smile of your father, and the cheerful laughter of your younger sibling. Thinking about them only made your heart heavier. It’s been more than a month since you were kidnapped, and you don’t know if they’re looking for you, or even if they know what happened to you. Every night, before you fall asleep, you try to calm yourself with the thought that one day, it will all end and you’ll be able to go home.

However, every time you think about asking Sae, you hesitate. You know that any question you ask will probably get an unsatisfying answer, or maybe no answer at all. But that night, you couldn’t hold back your feelings any longer.

You get up from your bed and walk to the living room, where Sae is sitting in his chair, his sharp eyes focused on his phone. You approach him and stand in front of him.

"Sae," you call him in a low voice, strong enough to get his attention, but soft enough not to make him feel threatened.

Sae looks up at you, his eyes unchanged, still sharp and mysterious. "What?"

You swallow nervously, feeling anxious about the question you want to ask. "I... I want to know about my family. Are they looking for me?"

Sae pauses for a moment, and for a few seconds, you feel like he’s considering giving you a more honest answer. But finally, he shrugs indifferently. "I don’t know."

You feel frustrated, wanting to say something, but the words get stuck in your throat. "You must know something, Sae. They... they must be worried. My mom... my dad... my sibling."

Sae stares at you blankly. "They don’t know where you are," he answers flatly, as if it’s no big deal. "You don’t need to worry about them."

"Why?" you almost shout, unable to hold back the emotions building up. "Why are you so calm? They... they’re my family, Sae!"

Sae sighs deeply, as if he’s tired of these questions. "Because they’re not here. And you chose to be here, didn’t you?" he replies in a cold tone.

You stare at him, confused and disappointed. There’s no warmth in his answer, only hopelessness. "But... I didn’t choose this! You kidnapped me, Sae. You brought me here."

He shrugs again, as if he couldn’t care less about the anger you’ve just expressed. "It’s just my way of life, (Name). You can’t change it."

You want to say more, to ask how he can be so calm and not care about your feelings or your family, but you know it won’t change anything. Sae isn’t someone who’s easy to talk to about things like this. His answers are always brief, always avoiding the things that really matter.

You stand there, confused and disappointed, but you know there’s something bigger at play here. Something more complicated than you imagined. Something that makes you feel trapped, and maybe, one day, you’ll find out what it is.

---

• Day 54

You haven’t stopped asking about your family. Every time there’s a chance, you ask again, even though you know the answer won’t be different from before. Sometimes you feel like a fool, asking someone who clearly doesn’t care about giving you the answer you want.

"Don’t you feel worried about them?" you ask again, while Sae is staring at his phone.

Sae doesn’t answer immediately, only shifting his gaze to you. "No."

Of course not. He doesn’t care. You stare at him, feeling like there’s something missing between the two of you. All your feelings about family, about home, about freedom—everything feels farther away, like it’s floating out of your reach.

"Do you know how long I’ve been missing?" you ask, waiting for an answer that might just make you feel more alienated in this world.

Sae doesn’t look at you. "It’s been more than a month. And that won’t change."

You feel like you’re facing an immovable wall. There’s no emotion there, just flat words that make your heart emptier.

"Why won’t you give them a chance to look for me? Why do you keep holding me here?" The question slips out, unplanned.

Sae raises an eyebrow, his eyes still cold. "Because I love you, (Name). And I won’t let anyone take you from me."

Those words hang in the air, and although you’re used to how Sae talks, this time, something feels different. Is it anxiety? Or maybe fear? You’re not sure. But you can feel how dangerous that feeling is for Sae.

"So, you’re going to keep doing this?" you ask, trying to understand what’s going on in his head. "Keep me here, without giving me a chance to go back to my family?"

Sae looks at you deeply, then nods slowly. "I won’t give any chance to anyone who tries to separate us."

You can only stare at him, feeling like even though you keep asking, you won’t get the answer you want. And maybe, in the end, you’ll have to learn to accept this harsh reality—that Sae, with all his obsession and feelings, will never let you go.

• Day 56

Since that conversation, the atmosphere between you and Sae has become more tense. Although he still acts the same, something has changed. Something you can’t quite explain. You feel more trapped than ever, and every day that passes gives you less hope of returning home.

Today, after a few days of no serious conversations, you try asking again, even though you know the answer won’t be different from before.

Sae is sitting at the dining table, folding some papers he just read. You sit across from him, pausing for a moment, trying to find the right words. But eventually, you decide to ask again, even though you know it might trigger tension.

"Sae," you begin, speaking softly but firmly, "Won’t they... my family, won’t they look for me? Doesn’t anyone know where I am?"

Sae lifts his gaze from the paper he folded, looking at you with his usual calm eyes. "No, they don’t know. And it’s better that way."

You feel the anger building up inside you again. "Why? Why won’t you let me go? I want to see them, Sae! I can’t keep living like this!"

Sae’s response comes quickly and flatly. "You’re not going anywhere, (Name). I won’t let you."

But this time, there’s a deeper, firmer tone. It feels like he’s starting to sense the tension between the two of you. However, he doesn’t show any irritation, just determination.

"This isn’t your decision to make," you say, your voice trembling with frustration. "This is my life, Sae. Not yours. I have a family who’s probably looking for me, and you..." you can’t continue. The words feel too painful, but they’re all locked inside your heart, buried deep.

Sae leans back in his chair, staring at you with an empty expression. "I know this is hard for you, but trust me, it’s for the best for both of us."

"The best?" you ask, almost sounding like a joke. "This isn’t for the best, Sae! You don’t understand, do you? You don’t understand what it means to have a family that loves you, who’s probably missing you."

Sae is silent for a few seconds, as if he’s processing your words. Then, with a more serious tone, he replies, "I understand better than you think. But I can’t let you go. I’ve chosen you, (Name). I won’t ever let you go just like that."

You feel almost broken hearing those words. Even though there’s some trust in him, in Sae, who’s always present in his strange way—whether out of fear or the love he has for you—whether it’s real or just obsession—you know, your feelings are very different.

• Day 60

Days go by and each one feels like more pressure. The longer you stay here, the harder it becomes to tell what’s right and what’s wrong. On one hand, you still want to go back to your family, but on the other hand, Sae, in his strange way, has given you so many things. Attention, food, comfort, and also a sense of security—even though it all comes at a very high price.

However, your curiosity doesn’t die down. You keep trying to ask about the past, about Sae, about your family. But Sae always gives ambiguous answers. Sometimes his answers make you feel a little more at ease, but more often, they only add to your confusion.

You approach him again that night, when Sae is staring out the window. You feel it’s time to ask a deeper question.

"Sae..." you start, your voice a bit shaky. "You said you know a lot about me... since I was little."

Sae turns to you, his usual sharp gaze now softer, a little worried. "Yes."

"So... why didn’t you tell me everything? Why didn’t you tell me more about yourself, about our relationship, or even about our past that I can’t remember?"

Sae takes a deep breath, as if trying to choose his words carefully. "There are many things better left forgotten. I just want you to focus on us, not the past."

You feel anger, confusion, and even a little hurt. "But I don’t know who I am! I don’t know who you are! And you always avoid every question I ask!"

Sae stands up and walks closer, looking at you deeply. "We’re going to live this life together, (Name). That’s all that matters. No need to know more. No need to find reasons."

You stare at him, feeling like there’s a growing emptiness between the two of you. Sae might be okay living this way, but you? You can’t just forget your past and your family.

"Can I go back one day? Back home, Sae?" you ask in a weak tone, unsure if he’ll answer honestly.

Sae smiles faintly, and even though it looks like a calming smile, there’s something very dark behind it. "You’re already home, (Name)."

That answer only makes your feelings even more mixed up. You don’t know if it means he really wants to live with you, or if he just wants to trap you in the world he’s made.

But one thing you know for sure, as long as Sae is by your side, you’ll never be truly free.

• Day 62

On Day 62, you start to feel something strange stirring within you. The tension that once existed between you and Sae begins to ease, although it hasn’t completely disappeared. Each day, he continues in his usual calm way, taking you to far places, giving you attention that you can’t deny, making you feel somewhat comfortable. But that comfort comes with an anxiety that never fades. What does Sae really want from you? You’re still confused.

But there’s something odd in your heart. As time passes, your fear begins to fade, and something darker replaces it. Maybe it’s because you’ve been here too long. Maybe it’s because, somehow, you’ve started to feel that the world outside is slowly disappearing.

• Day 64

On Day 64, you wake up in the morning with a vague feeling. Amidst the outside noise and Sae’s usual calm presence, you feel confused. Even when you wonder about your family, you feel farther away from satisfying answers. You don’t even know why you keep asking anymore.

"You look different," Sae says one day, noticing you in deep thought. You just shrug, ignoring the fact that your answers seem to be fading from your mind too.

"I’m fine," you reply flatly.

But deep inside, you know that’s not entirely true. You’ve started to forget many things—the faces you once loved, places you once knew, even the sounds around you that once felt so familiar. All of that is fading, as if Sae has rewritten this world, and you’re just following along.

• Day 78

On Day 78, you spend more time reading the book Sae gave you. You read, but you’re not really paying attention. Every page feels empty, like parts of you are disappearing. There’s no curiosity anymore. What once mattered now feels trivial. What you once wanted now feels distant, and Sae... Sae has already become part of this world.

"Why don’t you try to escape again?" Sae asks one day, as if he knows how weak your desire to escape is.

"Because I don’t know where to go," you answer without emotion. "Maybe, this is my place."

He just nods, seeming satisfied with your answer. You feel like you don’t have any reason to resist anymore. Sae might be right. What else should you be fighting for?

• Day 97

On Day 97, you feel even more distant from your past. Something that once touched your soul seems to have disappeared. The name of your family no longer feels important. You no longer feel anxious or pressured, even though this reality feels strange. Sae is still here, and although you can’t fully understand what he wants, you no longer feel lonely. Somehow, he has become the only person you know.

You sit with him in the living room, watching TV. The atmosphere isn’t so strange anymore. It feels like this is now your routine.

"You never ask about my past," Sae says one time. "Aren’t you curious?"

"You’ve already told me everything I need to know," you reply with a smile that almost doesn’t feel sincere. You feel empty, but for some reason, it doesn’t bother you anymore.

• Day 100

On the 100th day, you finally realized one thing: you’ve forgotten almost everything. The faces of your family, the voices of your friends, even the home that once felt so warm now seemed like a distant memory. Everything about your past self seemed to be fading away.

You sit next to Sae, gazing at the sky, which seemed different, though you no longer think about it. Occasionally, Sae glances at you, as if observing every change in you. You know he’s watching, but you no longer feel anxious. There is no fear within you anymore.

"Do you feel different?" Sae asks gently.

"Yes," you answer softly, looking at your own hands. "I feel... I’ve forgotten so many things."

Sae smiles in a way that’s hard for you to read. "It’s okay. This is your home now."

You nod slowly. Something inside you is gone, and even though it feels strange, you can no longer remember what is missing. Maybe this is the new life— the life Sae has made for you.

And at that moment, you realize, you no longer care.

This is the bonus chap for the.. explanations??

[pastelwitchling]

Let's talk about Violet Sorrengail. I'm currently rereading Iron Flame in preparation for Onyx Storm, and I have so much to say on the brilliance of this series so far that I figured I could do it here. I particularly wanted to address the controversy I see around Iron Flame, which is on the conflict between Violet and Xaden, and I've seen people mostly siding with Xaden, calling Violet whiny or annoying or stubborn, and... I (not-so) respectfully disagree 😂 Warning: the following post will contain spoilers on both Fourth Wing and Iron Flame, so read at your peril:

I put out a post yesterday on fable where I basically said I was getting frustrated all over again at Xaden's secret-keeping, and I got two very different responses. One said they were angry at Xaden as well, and the other said they were annoyed with Violet. This is an excellent example of why I love this series so much: you could easily argue for both sides. At least, I could. I get that Xaden has to worry about the whole revolution and everyone involved, I get that there's more on the line than either of these two characters, I get there's a risk with Dain getting ahold of Violet, especially because we're not sure we can trust him anymore. I get there are risks, I get Xaden wanting Violet to trust him enough that she doesn't need every detail. I get all of it, but... I also really get it from Violet's perspective as well.

This is a girl who came in already one step behind everyone else, not just because she's disabled, but because she didn't train her whole life for Basgiath the way the other riders had, she never volunteered, she didn't have the drive for it going in that everyone else did. Her only option was to survive, and not because she hoped to have a dragon, but because she had no other choice. She couldn't join the scribes, so either she survived or she didn't. Her motto is literally "I will not die today" because that's all she can hope for. The only weapon in her arsenal and which she relies on to help her make it every single day is her intelligence and knowledge. She's the smartest, she can think her way out of any problem, she's intelligent enough to see paths where others wouldn't. Now? Now her only weapon is gone.

Her world's been turned upside down, one of her best friends died trying to protect her from a creature she never knew existed, everything she thought she knew and could rely on is gone, and Xaden puts her back in Basgiath, encourages her to isolate herself from her friends, not let on that she knows anything is wrong as innocent civilians are dying and towns are attacked left and right, and essentially tells her not to worry her pretty little head about it. He and the others will take care of it. What are they taking care of exactly? Well, who knows? Because he won't tell her.

DO NOT GET ME WRONG. I LOVE Xaden, he is... incomparable to me. But aren't his demands a little cruel? He has yet to tell Violet he loves her, but wants to hear the words from her. He has suspicions that Varrish will look through her things, but doesn't have anyone warn her. Maybe he can't tell her everything, but he can give her some idea on how the revolution is going, how plans are panning out, and refuses to do any of it. The most he tells Violet is that he wants her to ask the right questions, and my dude! You want her to ask you the properly-worded question so you can, what, give her another half-answer? And until she figures out those proper questions, there's a good excuse not to tell her anything? Especially when you are isolating her from everyone she holds dear, leaving her utterly alone while you get to keep your friends to rely on? And he can't tell why she'd be upset about this?

I got to the point last night in the book when he finds out she's researching the wards, and tells her that she's risking her life and he just wishes she would've been honest with him, and I guess my brain had completely blocked the hypocrisy out from my first read because I was gaping! He risks his life every day and tells her nothing about it, tells her not to even worry, but he demands honesty from her now?? With what right, sir???!!

Also, ALSO, just humor me for a second, but assume Violet did do as she was told. Assume she did try not to worry about it, not to get involved, not to do anything Xaden doesn't want her to. How does that make her a badass fmc? I think of books like Quicksilver and When the Moon Hatched and Crescent City, where the fmc was all bark and no bite. She TALKED about how much she cared about other people, she TALKED about how much everyone meant to her, she TALKED about injustice and how angry it made her and how much she wanted things to change and be better, and what did all of those fmcs have in common? They either did NOTHING, constantly yanked around by the male main character with every excuse to continue to do nothing, or they selfishly went out and made things worse in the name of doing something.

What did Violet do when Xaden told her not to worry about it? She fought back, she understood why she couldn't be told, but still asked for something so that she wouldn't go out of her mind. She was thrust back into Basgiath, lost and not knowing who or what to trust, and decided she was going to be productive, she was going to look into the wards and find a way to protect people in a clever and quiet way. And spoiler alert? It's her work with the wards that ends up saving everyone, and she doesn't get innocent people killed or in trouble doing it either.

I am so eternally sick of being TOLD why female main characters are badass and how caring and wonderful and self-sacrificial they are, and what do we get? We get unbelievably selfish characters like Bryce, or fmcs from Quicksilver and When the Moon Hatched and One Dark Window whose names I've already forgotten because all they did was snarl and talk and had no abilities to follow it up.

So yeah, I'll defend Violet until the hilt because she's out there DOING something helpful and worthwhile, she's actually contributing, and her anger makes sense. She's separated from everyone she loves, the one man she wishes she could talk to is gone most of the time, and giving her half-answers when he's actually there. She doesn't know what to trust, this is a girl who recites the history of her world to calm herself and give herself courage, and who has now discovered that that history is a lie. Xaden is supposed to be the guy that believed in her abilities when no one else did, and now she feels like he's become just someone else who doesn't trust in her strength to guard her thoughts against Dain. Whether or not it's true doesn't matter because it's how he makes her feel, and her feelings are already a mess after everything that's happened.

Does it come off a bit stubborn? Sure, but... how I think of it is a lot like Harry Potter from Order of the Phoenix. He was angry during that whole book, too, but I don't know, these characters are always so good and brave and clever and genuinely caring and willing to do what it takes for the people they love that when they can't take it anymore, when they've been pushed to their limit, it's not fair to tell them to just be reasonable and follow orders and keep quiet. They know too much, too much has happened, too many people around them have hurt them. I think that warrants a little anger, a need to be useful and do something when everything else feels so hopeless.

If Xaden wanted somebody that was content not knowing and not helping and not caring, if he wanted someone that wouldn't have put their lives at risk to save people and, above all, save him, then he should've fallen in love with someone else.

[absolute-decay]

Do you think in the most twisted, misguided, disgusting, and almost idiotic way, Chisaki saw his young self in Eri, and thought he would be to her what the boss was to him. Like. This lost young orphaned child with nothing but the clothes on their back taken in by a Yakuza. That's literally their only similarities but do you think Chisaki decided that was enough? That he should be the one to "save" her?

I know it sounds ridiculous but just stick with me here.

This single image from chapter 136 screams so fucking much about Kai's brain and his relationship with Eri to me. Because ask yourself. "Why doesn't Kai just put Eri into a coma like he did The Boss?" Because that would solve so many of his problems. No chance of Eri escaping. No chance of any Heroes finding out about her. There'd be minimal resources spent on her since all he needs is to keep her alive regardless of physical condition. It literally solves everything, it almost feels like a plot hole. But then you remember the fact that Eri was entrusted to Kai by The Boss, and then you take another look at the image above, and it kinda clicks, doesn't it?

He doesn't do that because he genuinely, truly wants to take care of Eri. He might even really see himself as her father figure. And I think that makes so much sense, especially with his other relationships. Case in point, Shin Nemoto.

We saw the results of Shin using his Quirk on Kai, and he says straight up, "I like you, I trust you, your presence makes me feel at ease." And he didn't even seem shocked or upset after saying it, so it wasn't a truth he was unaware of or didn't want Shin to know. That's simply how he felt, cut and dry. But, with that being the truth, he was more than willing to use him as an expendable asset, have him be a fall guy after the raid with the other Bullets, and fuse with him, which he seems to believe will fucking kill him. That's not Kai using a pawn: That's just how Kai is with someone he cares about.

So, it wouldn't be far fetched to say, the same applies to Eri, and that really does recontextualize every one of their scenes, huh?

"You're the centerpiece of my plan."

"To this girl, you're no hero."

"You're cursed, every action you take kills someone."

"Someone else is going to die because of you!"

"She doesn't want you."

None of this is manipulation or scare tactics or anything like that. This is just what Kai thinks of humans. That he can hurt and pull and abuse them in the worst ways possible, and do it over and over again, and not understand when they want to run away. And I feel like him being raised in one of Garaki's "orphanages" just rubs salt into this wound.

Because, he takes care of Eri, doesn't he? He gets her toys and a pretty room and a soft bed, and he's nice and calm with her, doesn't even use his quirk to kill her and bring her back to life painfully as punishment! He doesn't seem to be physical with her at all, outside of the blood extractions. She has everything a girl could ask for, and she spurns him? Runs from him? Well, no matter. That's just how children are. Ignorant, illogical, they just don't make sense.

...It's such an incredibly fucked up way of thinking. And I think it's ingrained so deeply in Kai's mind because it's what he thinks he never had.

I think the way he treats Eri is how he thinks loving parents would have treated him. Pretty toys and nice clothes and good food and absolutely nowhere in his mind does any genuine relationship dynamics or aspects of unique personality come into play because after years and years of not having it he just. Doesn't. Get it.

So that's why it's lacking in his relationship with Eri. In all of his relationships, really. Because The Boss took him in and loved him and cared for him and Kai knows that but he doesn't understand that. So he's trying his best to "love" and "raise" Eri by being an empty photocopy of a parent at his best, because that's all he is. That's what defines Kai, till the very end.

He's empty. And so is his love. So Eri's room will always be full.

[miamooooo]

Lowk thinking about Josh being head over heels and following around alt!reader the second he meets her 😵‍💫

him being soooo into her the second they meet he just follows her around like a little dog

sub!josh with a dom!alt!reader fills my braaiinnnn

i can absolutelyyyyy see that. i can honestly see josh being a service sub too. like he isn't very direct or open about it, but you can just tell. he wants your approval soooo bad it starts to get so obvious.

(warnings): nsfw, handjob

the moment josh spots you, he's immediately interested in you. he's instantly into your vibe and look, he just thinks you're really hot. he literally makes it his goal to have at least one conversation with you. he would definitely have some terrible opener that he thought would be cool until he actually says it. "hey, so.. what's your deal?" it's terrible and awkward and he knows it, but he's desperate to get a conversation to happen. it would be something so out of the blue that it catches you off guard lol. after the conversation happens, omg he's hooked. he's literally obsessed with you. he finds every little excuse to be around you; following you around like a puppy, catching up to walk beside you and slinging an arm around your shoulder to start up a conversation about literally anything. he'll do whatever to be in your presence. josh tries to be casual about the whole thing, but it was impossible. it was simple gestures at first; he would start inviting you out to places, introducing you to his friends, and maybe sometimes even deciding to buy you your favorite cup of coffee in the mornings. yes, he's just that obsessed with you that he had to know what your favorite kind of coffee was. he doesn't think it's creepy.. or at least he tried to convince himself that it wasn't. at first, you're a little annoyed by his naturally witty, joking, and slightly overbearing nature, and the fact that he always conveniently had to be around you, attached to you like a leech. but as time goes by, it starts to click for you, and you start to find his little obsession endearing. he's so cute and you wanna get your hands on him. and it surprisingly didn't take long for that to happen! of course, josh had very dirty thoughts about you two every now again, but he never even thought he'd be in a predicament where he was the one getting pinned against some random bathroom wall, watching the person that he was completely obsessed with give him a handjob. but he absolutely wasn't complaining. especially when your hand felt so perfect wrapped around his cock. he would look so pretty as you gently fisted him, thumb swiping over the slit of his tip that made you quickly find out where he was the most sensitive. you do it again, teasingly, and it has him jerking his hips forward, a loud groan rumbling in his throat. oh you were gonna make him feel so good. he deserved it. he’s so vocal and obvious about how you're making him feel too. he would be leaking precum, his bottom lip caught in between his teeth, head thrown back against the wall as he grips tightly at your waist. "f-fuck yeah.. keep doing that," his voice is low and shaky, a huge contrast to how he presents himself to everyone else. it was almost like he was afraid of telling you what to do. but you listen to him anyway, because how could you not? you start to twist your wrist rhythmically, hand moving up, then back down. your thumb would occasionally rub over his tip, and you couldn't help yourself from softly laughing at the way he'd start desperately fucking himself into your hand. "gonna cum?" you teasingly asked, and it only makes josh huff out in frustration and thrust his hips harder. of course he was gonna cum! when he cums, he makes the biggest mess everywhere. he's spilling all over your hand and his own pants, and it's so much of it, like he's been saving up for this very moment. even after his orgasm, he's still so eager to please you! he would probably beg to be inside of you next.