#of someone who only resents you and sees you less than a person now. Like do i think she fully forgave him for not doing much and possibly

[dykedvonte]

I think about the fact Anya locking herself in the infirmary with Curly to kill herself and how it is in way reclaiming a space that was initially hers from Jimmy.

Not to mention how she must've been aware of Jimmy's obsession with Curly and the idea that he would lose his power over the both of them (based on the fact she likely thought they would never get the door open) and having to face the responsibility of two deaths being on his hands as acting captain.

It was her final act of agency stuck on that ship with her abuser and it says something that she chose to die next to Curly, despite his inaction, leaned against him as if they were just in a casual conversation before her death. Despite everything, Anya made the final decision on her own terms and it speaks volumes considering her treatment and demeanor up until that point.

[brittlebutch]

sonic and snufkin actually kind of feel like very similar characters to me. holding hands over “my personal sense of freedom and dedication to making decisions based on what I think is right is what matters most, and if you’ve built some idealized version of me in your head then that’s none of my business and it’s not my responsibility if the reality of who i am lets you down in some way”. also the deep connection to nature and all.

[aperrywilliams]

Ocean (Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader)

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Author Masterlist

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Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader.

Summary: Spencer has shut you out for months, and you don’t know how to get to him. A new argument endures, and you think this might be your last chance to make him understand how deep your love for him is.

Word Count: 2.6k

Warnings: Angst/hurt/comfort. Spencer doesn't want to see reasons. Reader and Spencer cry. Mention to Spencer’s time in Milburn.

A/N: It’s just another self-indulgent fic to tell our boy how great he is.

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"Are you going to say something?"

Your voice is clipped, and you feel a whole storm bubbling inside of you. Spencer's silence doesn't help to ease your desperation—a last call for some hope in your already damaged relationship.

As he sits on the couch, his eyes are lost in the window of your shared apartment, tranced by the distant bustling of the streets below. It seems everything is better than looking at you right now.

‘How can someone stand so damn close

And feel like they're a world away?

I can see your sad story eyes

So how do you have no words to say?’

“Please, say something. Anything."

Your insistence sharply contrasts with the demanding tone with which you initiated this conversation—or fight, as Spencer accused you earlier.

Still standing in front of him, you only want him to look at you, to see in his eyes what he really wants.

“Do you want me to leave? That's it?”

You don't know what else to do or say. After bickering for a solid forty-five minutes, Spencer decided he didn't want to respond to your questions/accusations anymore. Coincidence? Hell no. He went silent just after you touched a nerve mentioning the tabu, the only thing Spencer decided must remain unspoken: the three months he was locked in Milbum.

You understood his reluctance at first. Of course you did. Putting in words the nightmare of his days there can’t be easy for anyone, and to Spencer, you bet your ass it was tougher. To lose control, to engage in a world he only knew from afar. Exposed. Vulnerable.

You understood why he didn't want you to visit him there. His pride and self were wounded. However, you would never resent him for it. You said it to him but respected his wishes so as not to put more pressure on his shoulders.

It didn't hurt less, but you were willing to take it.

Weeks followed, and the only news you had about your boyfriend were the messages and phone calls from his coworker, Penelope, and his boss, Emily.

The day he was released must have been the most chaotic you had in your life. And for Spencer, sure, it was worse: His mom was kidnapped by another psychopath, threatening her life.

As Spencer hugged Diana at the BAU, you stayed back, looking from afar, not wanting to disturb such an important moment.

Penelope hugged him after, and then JJ and Tara. The whole team welcomed him before you had the chance to.

When your time came, your eyes locked for the first time in months, and you knew. That man wasn’t the same Spencer you saw the night before he went to Mexico. And you were far from expecting he was, but something felt different with you compared to the reaction he had with the rest of the people there.

Not saying a word, Spencer enveloped you in a tight embrace. Hiding his face in the crook of your neck, he couldn't articulate anything to say. You were the one who reassured him, mumbling encouraging words.

‘Everything is going to be okay. You’re safe now.’

And you believed every word, even knowing the road would be hard. Knowing there would be bad days and not-so-bad ones. But you were determined to make it work because you loved Spencer, and he didn't deserve less from you.

All I want is to fall in deeper than I've ever been

Why won't you let me?

I can handle your heart, so help me.

But Spencer didn't open up to you the next day, nor the week that followed, or the month after. You were patient. You didn't take personally the prolonged silences, the avoidance, the eagerness he showed to go back to work.

At some point, you start to wonder what you have been doing wrong because there is definitely something wrong.

Waiting for him to confide you was the only thing you decided to do. He would come to you eventually. Instead of pushing him, you offered your solace and a safe space for him to be peaceful.

But after three months, things didn't get better; they were quite the opposite. Spencer frequently showed signs of irritability at home and started to snap at almost anything.

And that's when the arguments started. You were getting exhausted by his behavior and the null display of trust from him.

Today has been no different. After coming back from a case, Spencer barely acknowledged your presence, opting for lounging on the couch, too invested in a book to tell you he almost got hurt in the field, and you find it out from Penelope calling you to know how he was doing.

“Spencer-”

“You can leave if you want,” he mumbles, not making eye contact.

“That's not what I asked. I asked if you want me to leave.”

There is a lump in your throat, but it doesn't stop you from voicing your thoughts.

“And for once, be honest with me. Do you want to be alone? Do you want to sulk yourself for God knows how much time?”

There is a brief silence where you think Spencer is truly contemplating his response.

“Yes.”

He says it without looking at you, but his voice is firm enough for you to wonder if he’s lying or not. It hurts. But it hurts you more because he’s hurting and not for the pain he’s inflicting you with his words - or lack of.

“Why?”

“Why what?”

You get his attention this time. He wasn’t expecting you to ask him that.

“Why do you want to be alone?”

You can’t understand why he’s so determined to shut you out. Or maybe you do, but you’re not ready to accept it. Not when you love him more than anything in this world. Not when you are sure your love must count to something for him. Yeah, maybe you can’t ‘fix him,’ but you’re sure as hell you can help him to heal.

Spencer huffs in frustration. What can he say? The truth? It's too simple and yet too complicated to voice.

“I realized it’s better that way. There is no reason for you to stay.”

Is he turning his motives into altruistic ones? It's like he doesn't know you at all.

“There isn’t? You are not reason enough for me to stay?”

Spencer stands from his spot, running his hands through his hair.

“You don't get it? Do you?! Do you want me to throw the words on your face? Uh? I thought you were smart enough to realize by now I can’t love you anymore!”

It's the first time he has yelled that way to you in months. Years, maybe? All the last arguments you both had recently were more like ‘snappy-sassy Spencer’ and a ‘sassier you.’

He just said, ‘I can’t love you anymore,’ and not ‘I don’t love you anymore.’ You don’t miss the wording, and you’re praying right now not to be reading this wrong.

Maybe this is the crack you were waiting for to get to him. Carefully, you look at Spencer, waiting for him to continue, but he doesn't.

“Okay,” you mumble, sitting again on the couch, your feet planted on the floor and hands on your knees. Spencer raises an eyebrow, confused by your posture and response.

“Okay?”

You nod. “Yeah. Okay. You can’t love me anymore. I accept it. And I’m not happy with that, but okay. I can’t obligate you to feel in a certain way if you don’t.”

“But you should be hating me,” he refutes. “I failed you, and now I’m ending things.”

You take in his words. Spencer assumes he’s the one to hate, and even if you want to, you know you can’t.

With pursed lips and soft eyes, you gesture to the spot beside you on the couch, inviting him to sit. Spencer understands and, after a second of contemplation, slowly moves to sit there, curious about what you are thinking right now.

“Can I tell you something?” you start. “It's humanly impossible for me to hate you. And yeah, maybe I should, but I can’t. Maybe you can’t love me, and thank you for doing it at some point, by the way. But it doesn't mean I’ll stop caring about you. It doesn't mean I don't want to see you happy because, despite all the awful things you think about yourself, oh, flash news, you deserve to be happy.”

“Don’t-” he wants to refute, as always he does, but you have to make a point.

“Spence, please, let me say it.” Spencer stops and concedes at your request, even if he thinks it useless and that you shouldn’t put that effort into him.

“I know you think you disappointed people for what happened. You haven’t told me that much, but I know. And I can understand you are scared and that maybe I’m not the one you want to confide in. I respect it, really. But please, if at least a fraction of what I think matters to you, believe me, I have never doubted whatever you did in there; you did it to survive. There is nothing to be ashamed of. Nothing.”

It's a hard pill to swallow for Spencer. He never wanted to tell you what really happened when he was in jail. Granted, you are not a profiler, but you know him enough to see through him.

Here you are, next to me

So much beauty at my feet

All I wanna do is swim, but the waves keep crashin' in

No, I'm not afraid to drown

Take me out, take me down

I'm so tired of the shore

Let me in, baby

You're an ocean, beautiful and blue

I wanna swim in you

“You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to. And I’ll leave if it's what you think I should do, but not before telling you how I see you. God, Spencer. You have no idea how great a human being you are. You always prefer to sell yourself short instead, but I know you. If the time we have known each other taught me something, it's how compassionate, understanding, and loving you are. Believe me when I tell you that to love you has been the best thing I have done in my life. And I would do anything for you, even if that means walking away from you.”

You don't know when the tears started to fall, but now you can feel them running down your cheeks and landing in your hands resting on your lap.

Spencer’s glassy eyes tell you he has heard everything you said, and you hope he believes you. At least you have tried pouring your heart into words. It isn’t easy for you to do. That’s something you have in common with Spencer. Your love language is acts of service more than words of affirmation, but you know this time, you need the words.

A tear makes his journey from Spencer’s eyes down his jaw. But he can’t say anything. He thinks if he says something, everything in him will crumble.

You wait, not so sure what, but wait. As Spencer keeps his silence, you think you have nothing more to do, so you break eye contact.

“Okay. That's what I needed to say. I guess that’s it.”

A shaky breath anticipates you getting up from the couch. You stroll to the bedroom to grab your go-bag.

Approaching the door and grabbing your keys from the bowl, you bit your lower lip because you don’t want to cry in front of him anymore.

Like a lighthouse, I've been shinin' bright

Through the dark for both of us

And I've done it outta love is not enough

But God, how I wish it was

And I don't wanna find out

How much lonely I can take before you lose me

Baby, look at me and swear you won't lose me

Determined to leave, you open the door, and before you cross the threshold, a heartbreaking sob paralyzes you in place. Then, a wail and Spencer's broken voice.

“Please, don’t leave!”

It is heartbreaking and comes to you like a prayer from the depths of his being. You stop in your tracks but refuse to look back at him.

“I know I don't deserve you, but please, I can’t - I can’t lose you.”

Wiping away his tears, Spencer gets up from the couch and quickly reaches the door. You still have the bag in one hand and the keys in the other, with your back to him.

“I love you more than you can imagine, and I was determined to let you go. I thought I had hurt you enough.”

“Did you were setting me free? From you?” you mumble, still not wanting to turn around, tears blurring your sight. Spencer sniffles.

“I thought it was the right thing to do. Why drag you to my shit once more? Fuck, you always have been there for me, and it is so unfair. How did I repay you?”

“Repay me?” You let the bag fall with a thud. This time, turning to face Spencer. “Do you think this is about repaying? Jesus, Spencer. I never had ask you that.”

“I know. I know,” he rushes to say. “But I feel like I’m not good enough. An ex-junk. An ex-convict. And a lot of baggage to carry.”

Your fingers fidget with the keys as you hear Spencer beating himself.

“Nothing of that has changed the way I see you. I’m not saying you have to be the same, nor do you have to keep still about it. I love you with all the scars you have and the ones that will come. And I want to help. You don't have to do this alone.”

“It's a lot. I don't even know where to start,” Spencer’s voice croaks, shoulders slumping in defeat.

“We can figure it out. Together. It won’t be easy, but I promise it will get better.”

Your soft eyes and hopeful words warm Spencer’s heart. He can’t conceive you are even real. He can’t fathom how you are still here in front of him after all. He can only conclude that your love is big enough to hold you two at this moment when his weakness consumes him.

Still sobbing, Spencer rushes to envelope you in a tight embrace. But unlike the hug you shared in the bullpen when he was released months ago, this time, he's the one telling you reassuring words.

“I love you. I couldn’t be more grateful for having you. I promise I’ll heal. I promise not to shut you out again. My love, my everything.”

As you cry with Spencer enveloped in his arms, your heart feels hopeful that you both will find a way to get through this. Together.

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Spencer Reid's Taglist: @dreatine @nomajdetective @jayyeahthatsme @rosalinasam2 @averyhotchner @lovelyxtom @princessmiaelicia @pastelbabygirl19 @reidsbookclub @alexxavicry @gspenc @spencerreidisbae123 @calmspencer @pauline5525mgg @anamiad00msday @milivanili99 @laylasbunbunny @leahblackk @miaxx03 @missabsey @taintedstranger @khxna @pleasantwitchgarden @dysphoricsanity @themoonchildwhofell @silver138 @lovelybaka @shinytinywhispers

[mochinomnoms]

MOCHII

Hi hi hello

What do you think will happen if like— one day Crowley finally find a way to bring back mc back to their world?? And mc just went with it cuz like personal reasons.

How would the PTM characters especially Jade would react?? I wanna hear your thoughts about this PLEASE MOTHER FEED ME ANGST??

Within the 'canon' of PTM, Yuu can't actually go back, but more information as to why will come up in the later chapters, so I haven't actually thought about it tbh.

Considering how attached all the characters are to Yuu at this point, it would be absolutely devastating to most of them. Some understand, those who are particularly attached or close with their family, and while sad to see you go are happy for you to finally found your way back to your loved ones. They couldn't imagine their own life without their family, being so close with them, so they understand why you went.

Some are less than understanding, maybe even angry! They can't understand why you'd want to go after all you've gone through with them! Do near-death experiences mean nothing? Does their care for you mean nothing? Why, how could you leave!? It ends up with a bitter goodbye, something that they'd grow up regretting as they remember the last time you spoke, full of anger, tears, and spiteful words.

But Jade? Well, it greatly depends on whether or not a confession has happened yet. If taking place before, then there's a great divide within him to confess and yet not. If he confesses, then you might feel obligated to stay with him. Or not, he's not sure what would feel worse. But there's also the possibility of you resenting him if that were to happen, the pressure to stay taking away your only remaining opportunity to go back.

But personally, I feel like it would be much more devastating if Jade and Yuu were already a couple by this point, and they decided to go back. He spent so long pining after you, with you, knowing just how deeply and intensely he cares for you. How you know him so intimately, not just from your telepathy, but just in your ability to read him in a way no one else really has. It's not like he can even lie to you, you can hear the thoughts in his head, the devastation, the pleading, the sheer feeling of grief washing over you as you leave through the mirror with olive and gold eyes watching your form merge with the mirror. What makes your heart mourn and the tears fall from your face is the blankness in his stare, the lack of feeling other than a soft, polite smile on his face. No one else, except his brother and even Azul perhaps, can tell there's something off about him. The whispers of others commenting on his lack of reaction, their doubt of his affections for you, it only deepens the wound. Perhaps it was foolish of him to open up, to be vulnerable with you, to be someone other than Jade Leech, all to become yours. Now all he's left with is a gap in his heart and an even crueler disposition.

[flashypunches]

( REUPLOAD I ACCIDENTALLY DELETED IT im so sorry )

You're someone who's held great resentment for your godfather.

For your first meeting, for his ego, for his murderous intent towards your father.

For his failure to provide comfort or understanding when your parents refused you as a son, when your friends have left you as a corpse.

You suffer through long years, sticking with him through thick and thin, because he’s the only one like you, the only other Death refused to take.

( The daughter he made, the cousin you mourned, Dani, is gone. She will not return to either of you. It is always his fault. )

Because he’s all you have left. The only one who wouldn't refuse you.

He moves you to a city that matches your dreary state. Vigilantes take residence, closing in on crime. Closing in on your godfather.

Vlad leaves. He doesn’t take you with him.

He leaves you his wealth, a place in a school that makes you miss home, and an order to never speak to the ones who made him run– the Waynes.

He doesn’t return. Never properly. You make due with phone calls and brief visits every now and then. You don’t mind, you preferred this more than his haphazard attempts at providing companionship when it was too late.

Your schoolmates does not like you. That is okay, even if it leaves you longing for friends.

( Sam and Tucker are in Amity and will stay there until they die. They would never come and visit a corpse like you. Not when you desecrate their friend's body, parading it around, like you're him. They know who you really are. They've always known, they just couldn't see sense before. )

But you find someone who could be one.

He is prickly, rude, disliked less, but disliked nonetheless. But he is the only other person who does not care about your worn out shoes, for your scars, your clammy skin, all the things that made your parents refuse you as a son, as sentient— or about you coming in the middle of the school year.

You care not about his attitude, desperation clawing at your mind for any form of socialization not from Vlad or who he calls company.

You make quick work of befriending him, a shared rivalry for an annoying schoolmate pulling you close together.

You learn his interests, his pets, his family. You know his name but do not ask for it. Willful ignorance could be considered bliss. Just for a moment.

He lets you stay at his house for a night, though his siblings push the matter more enthusiastically. You do not see his father.

( “He’s on a business trip.” Daniel blinks, looking up at his friend.

“Who?” he asks, despite knowing there’s only one person that Damian could be referring to.

Damian tsked automatically, “My father, you imbecile. He will return in two weeks notice.”

Daniel thinks of his godfather, of his various excuses over the years to many people, including him. But instead of telling Damian the likely truth, that his father won’t return, never like how his best friend wants him too, an “Okay” comes out in place of it.

Let him bask in ignorance, Daniel tells himself, Let your friend have this. )

His father comes back. You don’t call Vlad when he forgets you. For all he wanted you as a son, now he never tries to treat you as such.

You continue the cycle of avoiding an empty house, of sleep-overs, of waiting for something to happen.

And something does. Your godfather comes back. He lies to you that he won’t leave again. He says that he will stay longer, that the family who tried to run him out won’t succeed again.

You do not think of your best friend. Why would he even care?

Your godfather treats you like he had before, when you still had your friends, your home. Like you are a misbehaving child, and him, the tired parent.

( Shouts of an argument ring from an dead manor, before being shut out to the upstairs.

Daniel slammed the door, not caring if Vlad had heard it or not. Ancients, he'd forgotten how much of an utter fruit-loop Vlad was. He gritted his teeth, rubbing the bruise left on his wrist by the man.

Why'd he expect anything different? Vlad was just going to be his usual nutty self, and go back to treating him like he was still some misguided kid, that he would just come around to playing nice with Vlad.

The wood of the door was smooth, most likely sanded down from any splinters by the past families who lived here. Daniel moved his fingers along the grooves, faintly remembering how he had done this before, when he was better. He bit his tongue, ignoring the bitter taste of ectoplasm it brought forth.

He hadn't thought of who he was before since he'd ran. He hadn't been this angry at Vlad since he ran. He hadn't felt so like himself after he ran.

Daniel would be lying if that thought didn't make him feel just a little bit better.

He let his head fall into his knees, back leaning against the wooden door, limbs sagging. He did not cry, because the Danny from the empty home did not do that. )

It irks you, but not like before. Maybe you were doing something right if he’s treating you like this now, treating you normally. Maybe you’re back to who you were before, before the rejection scarred you.

Damian notices the change in your personality, as you notice his change in costume. He is on the rooftops, in the streets, cloaked in muted colors, not unlike your own old costume, and his family knows your godfather is back.

When you come back to school after a week of Vlad trying to bond with you without success, Damian doesn’t say a word about your godfather.

You don’t either. What even is there to say?

“Oh, I know that you are investigating my godfather, and that you’re a vigilante, surprise!”

You would have been killed ages ago if that was your response.

Your friend does not invite you over anymore. You know why, understand why but it still stabs your core, in the way a butter knife does to wood. Dents it but does not cut.

You repeat the loop of boring conversation, of stilted companionship. You grow tired of it, as you always do.

Vlad's signature is easy to forge. You get to skip your classes under the guise of it being a family emergency.

( Damian is near the gate when he gets off the bus. Daniel's ratty sneakers are hitting the ground, as he walks over to him.

The weight of his backpack feels heavy, the evidence that Daniel had stuffed inside not helping his back. Damian twirls around at his steps, a scowl already on his lips.

Daniel smiles back, readjusts the straps on his shoulders. He whispers to Damian, uncaring of the fight currently breaking out in the front, the fight that Damian is watching, "I'm getting out of school today, wanna come with?"

His friend tears his eyes away from the brawl, looking intrigued at Daniel's offer.

Damian considers the chance. The thought of having to sit through another day of school with only Jon for mild company sickens him.

"I suppose I can, though if this is a trap Masters, then let it be known that—"

"Yeah, yeah, I get it, you in still?" Daniel flashes his (only) friend a cheesy grin, ignoring Damian's eye-roll at his theatrics.

"..Yes."

-

The route to the local park is quick, though slowed by the need to be away from the public's eyes, lest they be caught right away in their venture.

Daniel gasps in a breath, ancients, did he need to jog way more. Damian easily strides beside him, the only sign that he was showing off being the smug gleam in his green eyes. Bastard.

The papers, the records, the flash-drive, all weigh down his back. Vlad has definitely noticed them missing, and he most definitely knows who took them.

But Daniel didn't care, not right now, because right now, he was spending time with his bestest friend in the whole wide world, and he'll deal with Vlad later. )

You drag Damian over to a secluded bench, taking no mind to the mutations Poison Ivy has given the plants near. The backpack is emptied, and you guide your only friend to the path that leads to Vlad's destruction.

The dread fades away, the high of adrenaline taking its place, at the crimes left behind in pieces, put back together in a backpack, and let loose into the hands of your only friend.

It feels good, like something’s been taken off your shoulders. You know that Vlad has anticipated you telling someone about what he’s done. He’s still not leaving.

Your high is running down, as you start to beg Damian not to arrest him, lying to your only friend that Vlad is a better man, and doesn't deserve to rot in a cell. You know that when you take a separate route to your homes, that he’ll tell anyway.

You can’t bring yourself to care. Vlad’ll just weasel out of it, as he always does.

He knows what you did, doesn’t bring it up, with the only sign being a watchful eye whenever you’re back in his grasp.

You get invited to a gala by your friend. You accept, uncaring of Vlad's reaction.

Your friend gets held ransom. No one’s worried, no one feels anything but annoyance. You stay away, not wanting to feel your core straining to help, to protect.

The Bats swoop in to help. You ignore the envy at their luck at having a team of other heroes to depend on.

( Your friend ) The Waynes send people after your godfather. He tries to bribe his way out of the charges, out of the jail cell that cannot hold him. They leave with him in tow.

You start staying overnight at your friend’s house even more. Damian doesn’t say a word about it.

His father does. His siblings do.

They talk about adopting you, they fight about Vlad, about what they are meant to do with your godfather, and what to do with poor old Danny. You don’t listen in much. They remind you of your parents, just a little bit. It hurts.

Vlad is let go. False charges, apparently. You know he just bribed the judge and juries.

He wants to talk to you, intent on having a conversation that lasts more than five minutes without shouting and tears ending it.

I'm sorry for not being there, please, give me forgiveness, are the only things you remember from the conversation. You do not give him what he wants, but the conversation doesn't end in slammed doors and withheld tears.

You sleep under his roof for the first time in weeks, the most civil conversation you’ve ever been with him looping in your mind. You even wonder if he’ll let you go to your friend’s birthday party.

You don’t sleep at your friend’s house as much. There’s not much need to anymore.

You wake up one night, to hear the sounds of ectoblasts and footsteps. They are on the roof, and you know what they’re here for.

You go ghost, going up the roof, watching invisibly as Plasmius shoots at the vigilantes who yell about something. You stay like that for a moment. You almost decide to let him go.

He's the only one you have left, to leave him, to abandon him, is to leave the last person in your corner. That thought is the only reason why you lift your thermos up, capturing Vlad in one fell swoop, before he leaves too.

The vigilantes are not pleased, as the Bat barks out orders to find you. You can imagine Vlad is the same, fuming at your disrespect inside the can.

With Vlad in your thermos, the Bats on your tail, there is no hope in your mind of getting out of Gotham with everything you need.

Oh Danny, what are you going to do?

[pascaloverx]

OUR SECRET — MYG

chapter one

Summary: You and Yoongi are having an affair. No, you are not being his lover. But the world is not ready to know that an idol is dating someone. So you two were doing your best to make sure no one found out. Until he breaks up with you. His mistake.

Author's note: This fanfic will contain inappropriate language and intimate moments between some characters. Be warned. I will let you know if anything becomes inappropriate. Please enjoy this Yoongi fanfic.

AO3LINK NEXT

"You're in denial, you could just say you didn't want me anymore. But you prefer to pretend that..." You throw his favorite book out the window like it means nothing. 'Cause now it doesn't mean.

"You can't blame me, our romance should have ended a long time ago. But you and I..." Yoongi seems almost too serious saying this. Do you mean nothing to him?

"You and me what?" You respond from the balcony of your apartment. Luckily your neighbors aren't too curious to know why you're yelling at your ex-lover.

"You know I can't shout that here, some fans might be here." Poor little thing, at that moment you wonder where the brave man is who asked you to embark on this relationship even though you knew your worlds would never be the same.

"I thought the whole point of paying a lot of money to live in an apartment far from the big city and known for its discretion would be being able to yell at you at two in the morning." You don't care if he thinks he's going to leave you without anything more or less, and that you're going to come out of this situation smiling, he should have found someone else to have sex with.

"If you would let me come up, we could talk like adults." He speaks subtly with an impressive poker face. If he stops being a musician, perhaps he could try a career as an actor or a gambler.

"Like adults? I'll be waiting for the other adult to arrive." You say throwing some clothes that are in your apartment that belong to him.

"Like you're being mature about all this. Damn!" One of his belongings ends up breaking near his feet. In fright he lets out several swear words, you luckily end up laughing.

"You break up with me over the phone and I have to be mature. I gave up part of my freedom to be yours. And look what I get in return." Anger took over you initially but now all you can do is try to keep from crying.

"Y/N. Let me in, so we can talk. I can see you almost crying from here." You smile lightly as you feel tears fall down your cheek. What a humiliation.

"If you cared about me you would have had the decency to say that you wanted to finish it the last time you were here." His cowardice can only be explained by his fear of having to do this in person.

"I couldn't. I didn't..." That was exactly what was left of the two of you. An awkward silence and resentment.

"Do you know how frustrating it is not being able to curse your name or tell someone you broke my heart?" You say that sobbing. What a tragedy it is that has made you sentimental now.

"Just because we don't work anymore doesn't mean I don't love you." You look at him and for a moment you feel more sorry for him than for yourself.

"If this is how you love someone. I'm sorry to inform you that you don't know love." Ironically it makes you smile. Maybe this is all his fault, not yours.

"Love..." It's very painful to see the man you've been involved with for the last year, call you that and not be able to respond.

"I'll send the rest of your things to the company. Don't worry, I won't expose you any more than I already have. Now get out of here, you and your fake love." Using one of his songs as the grand finale was a majestic act. Crying yourself to sleep, unfortunately, is not so majestic.

Two Months Later...

"You were the only person I thought would understand my situation. Try not to judge me but I need an opinion." You say looking Namjoon in the eyes. You got really close to him during your secret relationship with Yoongi.

"Is it too big a secret?" He asks entering his new home. A home where you swore you would start over.

"You tell me..." You say, opening your coat and revealing your stomach.

"Did you call me here because you gained weight after the breakup or do you have worms?" Namjoon asks and you smile nervously. Until you shake your head denying.

"Let's say the weight gain is due to something prior to the breakup..." You try not to say the word. Maybe the situation will go away if you don't name it.

"You are pregnant?" He named his current situation. Now it means it's really happening.

"Surprise!" You say trying to liven up the situation but you know you're fucked. Namjoon seems really surprised. As soon as he assimilates the information, he hugs you. You knew you could lean on the friendship you two have.

[throneofsapphics]

I figured I should ask before requesting but here goes nothing, again, ‼️TW‼️;

Can I request more angst with Az? Like uhmm.... Maybe the reader has extreme trust issues and she finally has opened up to Az but now that Elaine is here, she finds Ax drifting (not much but they don't do their normal dinners together as much as they used to, they don't bathe together as much, etc, small things she needs to that stability) and it starts to eat away at her but she doesn't want to tell Az about her feelings because she feels like a burden but then maybe Mor or someone convinces her to talk to him but he's had a long day so he snaps at her and leaves and she ends up... Offing herself..... Uhm.. and then Az's finding her body the next morning and his reaction and everyone else's too...... 👁️👁️

It only takes three 

Azriel x Reader

Summary: “There were three words you came to say, three little syllables, and it only took three to shatter you.”

Warnings: suicide, pills & alcohol, suicidal ideation, angst

A/N: I appreciate you asking, thank you for the request! & what’s a little more trauma for the inner circle? know your triggers y'all, this is heavy

Azriel dedicated himself to gaining your trust. The one person who managed to knock those walls down, and it took decades before you’d opened up to him. Mor was a close second. Maybe it was a cliche, but he understood you, more than anyone else. He’d listened through everything, listened as you broke, and helped you put the pieces back together. 

All these years, you’d been waiting and hoping he’d see it, hoping he’d feel the same bond you did. You were somewhere between friends and lovers, nothing ever clear or defined. But, you knew he was the one person you could rely on. 

Resentment was ugly, and so was jealousy, but you couldn’t help those emotions as you watched his infatuation with the middle Archeron sister grow. It was nothing against her, she truly was a lovely person, and you could see why Azriel took an interest in her. The nasty little voice told you he’d grown tired of you, that you were too much, that he’d found someone less burdensome - as you’d always feared. 

At first, you wrote it off as him being busy. That’s what he said - and he’d never lied to you. After the war with Hybern, things hadn’t quite settled and his workload was high. You tried to be understanding, to be respectful of the boundaries he’d subtly set. But you craved your old routine. Wednesday morning breakfasts, him slipping into your bed when he couldn’t sleep, bringing him tea when you knew he was working a late night. He used to always leave his door cracked, but recently it had been locked. Any knocks went unanswered, even though you could hear him inside. Instead, you’d leave the cup outside of his door, only to find it there in the mornings - untouched. 

It really began to fall apart, to you, when you went to visit Feyre at the River House. Azriel said he had some kind of work mission, that he’d be out for the day, and as Feyre led you around, he was in the gardens, with Elain. You didn’t let him see you, instead you stuck out the rest of the tour with a smile, saving your tears for home. 

It was a different type of torture, watching the one person destined for you fall in love with someone else. You tortured yourself too, holding on to hope he’d realize and he’d come back to you. 

Finally, you built the courage to tell Mor. You needed a sounding board, someone to give some advice, someone outside of your head. 

“Tell him,” Mor encouraged you, “he’ll understand.”

“He’s been pulling away, I don’t want him to think I’m trying to … I don't know, trap him.” 

“Az,” she sighed, “he’s wanted to find his mate for … well maybe even for centuries. For a shadowsinger, he’s too stubborn to see what’s right in front of him,” her mouth curved up at one corner. “If you don’t tell him, he might never know. I imagine you’re tired of waiting.” 

“You have no idea,” you laughed, but stood. Brave. Three words; I’m your mate, and at least the weight would be off your chest. Whatever happened next, whatever his reaction was, you could figure that out as it came. Despite the growing distance, he was still the person you trusted above all, and you knew he wouldn’t hurt you. 

For once, his door was open. This felt like a good sign. 

“Az,” you called, peeking your head inside the room. “Can I talk to you about something?” 

“Tomorrow,” a clipped one word answer, not even bothering to look up from his desk. 

“It really is important.” 

“It can wait.” there was such a finality in his tone. Almost like he thought nothing regarding you could be important. But you wanted to give it one more shot. 

“Please-” 

“I don’t care, whatever it is, I. Don’t. Care.” 

Well, he’d finally looked up at you, like you were some obnoxious fly he was trying to get rid of. Swallowing your tears, you nodded and turned away. Part of you knew you couldn’t promise tomorrow. 

There were three words you came to say, three little syllables, and it only took three to shatter you. To shatter the fragile self he’d helped you build. 

-

Maybe it was intentional. You knew exactly what this cocktail could do to you, and you wanted that sweet release to drag you under. When every breath felt like a chore, every word like an ache tearing out of you, it felt like the only option. 

One hand clutched the bottle of pills, the other the bottle of wine. 

Pills from a friend, who warned you taking too many could kill you. That warning was a siren call now. 

You were already drunk when you poured the entire bottle into your hands, throwing them back without a second thought, wine washing them down. It would take you into sweet, sweet oblivion, and only the mother knew whether you’d wake up on this earth or not. 

Maybe your soul could become one of those pretty little spirits, migrating on starfall. Or maybe you’d end up in another universe, like the ones you studied in the library. You giggled to yourself. Anywhere else felt like a better option now. 

You were definitely hallucinating, because three little butterflies floated in front of you, reaching out you felt them touch your fingers. Was it welcoming? Or an omen? The butterflies faded, bursting into dust, and the tears began. A few minutes later, you knew nothing.

-

“Where’s y/n?” Mor asked Azriel as he stalked into the room. He was still in a piss-poor mood, and this was the last thing he wanted to do this morning. Going to a court meeting. 

“Do I look like her keeper?” 

Mor seemed a bit confused by his response. “Can you get her?” 

He wanted to ask; why not you, but it felt a bit too childish. Besides, he needed to talk about last night anyway. Too late, a shadow whispered in his ear. It’s never too late, he could fix this. Taking the stairs two at a time, he headed for your bedroom. Shadows swirled around him, in front of him, searching and … storming the room. They unlocked the door before he could, gone, gone, gone, they whispered to him. Had you left in the middle of the night? He couldn’t hear you in there, but your scent was still fresh. 

And alcohol. A pit settled in his stomach. Gone. Too late. 

Azriel pushed the door open. Not in your room. A small click and his shadows opened the door to your bathing room. There were sweet and tender memories from that room. Him washing your hair, delicately working through the strands that always seemed tangled, you washing his wings. 

He didn’t think this would be one of those memories. 

Pushing the door open, he fell to his knees. 

-

Mor heard the guttural scream, one of pain and sorrow. Something she’d never heard from Az. Mor didn’t bother taking the stairs, and winnowed to your door. Directly across from her, another door was swung open, offering her a clear view. Azriel on his knees in front of … your body. Lips blue, skin white. His hands pressed down on your chest, up and down, up and down. 

“You’re late,” Rhys said, echoing through her mind. She only cast the image to him. Within a minute, more voices and footsteps sounded inside the house. Mor had already crossed the room, kneeling next to Azriel, her magic searching desperately for a sign of life. 

Minutes later, Madja was there, crowding in behind her. Cassian pulled a thrashing Azriel away from your body. 

Mor could only stand by the door, mouth parted and body still in shock. 

An empty pill bottle, one blue pill laying next to your hand, as if it had fallen out. An empty bottle of wine on the floor, dregs of red liquid still gathering in the bottle. 

Today was supposed to be good. Last night, you’d told Azriel you were his mate. She was prepared for the two of you to miss today entirely. 

Something had gone terribly wrong. Whirling around, she took one step closer to the shadowsinger, each movement laced with fury, entire body trembling. 

“Did you reject her?” Mor had skipped the earthly and deadly quiet, and screamed at Az, power rumbling through the room. 

“What do you mean reject?” 

“She is - was - your mate.” 

-

Azriel felt like his world stopped. Each word sliced into his chest. Mate. 

That’s what you wanted to tell him, and he told you, unequivocally, that he didn’t care. He was the person you trusted above all others, at one point. The one who spent decades breaking down those walls, slowly and carefully gaining your trust. Decades working towards that goal, and a year to throw it away. 

This was his fault. 

He could imagine the hopeful look on your face as you peeked into his door. If he’d seen that … if he’d just looked. 

“Az, can I talk to you about something?” Fuck, he’d forgotten to lock his door. Papers obscured his entire vision. Today had been too damn much, and he didn’t want to talk to anyone. It wasn’t specifically you.

“Tomorrow,”

“It really is important.” Desperation, but he knew there wasn’t much going on in your life. A shadow swirled angrily at the callous thoughts. 

“It can wait.” 

“Please-” 

He looked at you, your face had fallen. The beginnings of tears gathering in the corners of your eyes. Listen, listen, listen, his shadows were nearly begging. Tomorrow, he told them. 

“I don’t care, whatever it is, I. Don’t. Care.” 

You finally left. A small tinge of guilt, but he’d make it up to you tomorrow, or maybe the next day - that would be Wednesday, and he’d get up early to bring you breakfast, the old tradition you’d fallen out of habit with. Something easily revived. 

Tomorrow, however, would be chock full of meetings. Meetings you’d be at too, and he’d make the time to hear you out, to apologize. 

Now, a shadow curled next to his ear, pleading. He ignored it. They’d always favored you, and now he’d even say they were fussing. You were strong enough. 

Azriel had ignored everything. Ignored each warning sign, ignored the desperate pleas of his shadows and the tears on your face. You cried, but it was never often. 

“It’s my fault,” he said - more to himself. “My fault.” 

He felt himself crumble, felt everything he used to keep himself in check slip away, his magic threatening to burst from him, to turn this house to rubble. He didn’t fight as Rhys grabbed him, as he winnowed him out to somewhere far out in the mountains. His brother released him as soon as they landed, but didn’t leave, he didn’t abandon him. Rhys should’ve, should’ve left him out here to bury himself. That’s what he deserved. 

The ground shook, parts of the mountains surrounding him faded into dust, snow flooded down the sides, birds squawked as they fled. He spent hours, hours and hours up there - until his siphons dulled, until he felt his magic start to protest, until Rhys had to knock him unconscious before he let it tear him apart.

[iliveforyouilongforyouvesuvia]

full hcs for what post-route m6 would say if they got to talk to pre-memory loss mc for a few minutes?

The Arcana HCs: Post-Route M6 get 10 minutes with Pre-Memory Loss MC

Julian

He's sorry

There's a lot more he wants to say, but he begins with a stream of apologies when the person in front of him isn't the investigator who became his ally, but the assistant he failed to protect

He's not proud of it, but for a moment he feels himself slip back into who he used to be

Someone whose value lay solely in how useful he could be to someone else, self-hatred creeping back in like an estranged family member when he sees how useless he was to you

But the you from back then, standing in the middle of the plague and seeing someone stronger, better-fed, less sleep-deprived, the you from back then can see that he's grown. He's happy

The you from back then only seems to want to know if the plague you died trying to make up for had a cure, and if the doctor you lost your life assisting was ever able to find it

And he did. Twice. Without having to prove himself to anyone

Asra

Oh, how they used to miss this version of you

There's so much running through his head. On the surface, it's the first and only chance he's really had to see the difference between who you were when he lost you and who you are now

But deeper, it's the wave of phantom pains, pulling them under and back to when they would've given anything to see this version of you again, when they waded through hell to get you back

And the fear, flashing up from an underlying simmer, that the you then and the you now are so irreconcilably different that there's only one of you he can truly love

As they fold you into the kind of hug that only old friends share, the first difference they notice is that your heart doesn't beat in time with theirs the way they're used to - and it's their revelation

He had enough love in his heart for who you were - and it grew to love you back into his life - and more again to hold both of you in the current one. He has enough for every piece of who you are

Nadia

She's ... humbled, a little

The you that she knows and loves now is someone who has faced down the terrifying and illogical with her, who has supported her through the rejuvenation of an entire city

But the person standing in front of her reminds her more of the person who first walked in through the Palace gates

You're ... normal

Not in a bad way at all, but - you look like every other citizen her carriage passes on her way through the streets. She's reminded all over again how important seeing you in her dream was

Because if you hadn't been pointed out to her, if your first proper meeting hadn't been you freeing her from three years of nightmare plagued sleep, she would have never thought to seek you out

So when the you from the past seems surprised to see the elusive Countess, not nearly as well-known as her extravagant husband

All she really wants to do is thank you by showing you your worth

Muriel

Well. This is awkward. And that's coming from him

There's a well of emotions swirling in him as he looks at you, at the you that Asra left the hut to live with, at the you that took his only found family from him, at the you he came to resent

Because if the worst he can see when he looks at you is someone who captured more of his friend's attention than he did -

What do you see when you look at him?

The you from the past wouldn't have known him when he was retired and forgotten, the you from the past would've known him when he was a gladiator

Or more accurately, when he was the Count's executioner

He's not sure it's good for either of you to be looking at each other

But he can't turn away, and that's because not only do you not seem to be afraid of him, you won't stop looking at him

Your gaze feels the same. Exposing. Open. And though this one is considerably less affectionate - safe, somehow

Portia

She is both starstruck and deeply disappointed

Starstruck because the person she's looking at seems a lot more put together than who you are now, if a little less ... developed

Your magic hovers around you like an old friend and your eyes seem a little more sure about where they want to look

And that's exactly why she's also a little disappointed

Because you aren't like the person she loves now in that way. Who you are now is always looking, always soaking up the world around you like a sponge, because so much of it is still new to you

And nothing seems new to the past you - not even her

She's so happy to take your hands in hers and ask you all about who you've been and collect all the stories and fill in all the gaps she can, to better know how you got to where you are now

And then when the visit's over, she'll happily wave goodbye and walk forward to who you are now

But not without a word of encouragement to her darling first

Lucio

Oh. Ohhh boy

You see, he was fortunate to meet you when you knew fairly little enough to encounter him with an open mind. By the time you learned about his horrible past, you knew his present self

But past you ... past you seems to know quite a bit more

And he doesn't like the way you look at him

There's an edge of uneasiness to the way he plasters on a smile and loudly calls your name, only to be met with a gaze that's polite at best

You're not supposed to be polite to him, you're supposed to love him, to want him, to admire him when he's done good and call him out when he's done bad and forgive him when he tries to do better

At the same time, this is the version of you whose death he knows he's responsible for. It makes him wonder if he's a bad person for being relieved that you changed before meeting him

He'll be happy to leave - but he does manage an apology, first

[modedelagauze]

𝓢𝓤𝓜𝓜𝓔𝓡'𝓢 𝓗𝓔𝓐𝓣 ᯓ★

​​Pairing: Abby x F! Reader Summary: You move into your apartment just outside of campus. Abby sees you struggling and decides to help move everything in. CW: Mostly fluff, Abby is having dirty thoughts about you (2k) This work belongs to a larger series though it can be read alone without the context of previous chapters. Read the entire collection on AO3 HERE or refer to the Tumblr master list HERE

Only about five miles from the grounds where you would be receiving your education for the upcoming years, you sat fanning your reddened cheeks with the loose slip of a welcome flyer once pinned between clips stuck to your apartment door. The place was an old brick fortress so clearly taken advantage of by a landlord who clearly couldn’t give a damn about college students unacquainted to the heat of the city. The mockery of a poorly printed image of the sun wearing sunglasses alongside a short list of locations to pick up some form of air conditioning listed on the sheet was long forgotten as you got up to approach the refrigerator. Would it be so wrong to stand in front of an open freezer door and allow the cooling hum of the ice maker to calm your sweaty nerves? Apparently it was quite possibly the worst decision you could have made when you realized that the ice maker wasn't even on and that this had to be none other than an act of god punishing you for picking the apartment on the third floor and deciding to move in mid day when the sun was revealed itself most. You hadn’t even registered how loud the string of curses that escaped your lips had been until you were startled by the figure standing in the hallway of your home.

“What's going on?” You blurted out, face fixed into a scowl, unsure why some random stranger was standing in front of you. Hopefully she was some random student belonging to management, here to make something apparent that wasn’t already emailed to you since you hadn’t really had time to see the office other than to pick up your keys an hour ago. That would make the interaction a whole lot less weird.

“I was gonna ask the same.” She spoke, quickly attempting to diffuse the situation with her hands up, “I just thought I heard someone get hurt or something and the door was wide open.” The woman continued while motioning at the door that you’d forgotten to shut and lock after struggling the first of three large boxes into your apartment. “I knocked, but I didn’t hear anything.” 

You would’ve been more irritated with the audacity of the burly blonde standing in front of you had she not, well, looked the way that she did. If God had indeed been punishing you earlier, then this was a reward. Give and take if you will and being given a hot neighbor was worth all of it since living in the Appalachians didn't really have much to offer. You sighed, closing the ajar freezer and realizing just how stupid you looked at the moment. “I’m so sorry that was rude and you're so sweet. It’s just hot and I have so much to move.”

“So you’re okay?” she further probed.

“As okay as any actively melting person could be.” You huffed in response.

Now with crossed arms as she scanned the large box leaning against your front door labeled Section A, the woman inquired “Do you need help with the rest of it?”

You sighed, resting both your hands on top of your head, resenting the very thought of carrying up the rest of your things alone. “I would really love that.”

The blonde walked forward to meet you where the hallway and kitchen met, extending an arm out to shake your hand. “My name’s Abby.”

You shook it, now up close enough to take in the details of her exquisitely designed face. Really, the girl was something to marvel at considering the freckles sprinkled along her T-zone and the slight bump at the bridge of her nose; the mix of blue and brown in her eyes framed by golden eyelashes and those untamed brows. She was a natural blonde too. This was like dangling fresh salmon in front of a starving bear. Not to mention you were considered tall for a woman, but she still managed to have a good couple of inches on you and her physique had to be hand carved by the gods themselves. As selfish as it may be, you prayed she didn’t have a girlfriend. “Y/N,” you stuttered, then repeated yourself. “Y/N, L/N.” 

Abby echoed your name, smiling as she said it and you loved how it sounded coming from her mouth. Already you wanted to hear the girl say it again and again, but it was too soon. You didn’t even know her last name. Together, the two of you marched down the hall to your closest stairwell, navigating through the numerous other bodies also moving into the building. Halfway down the first flight of stairs Abby asked why you picked Washington if you couldn’t stand the heat and you responded with something along the lines of believing the state to have had perfect weather all year round. She laughed, suggesting you should have moved to Bellingham instead if you wanted year-round gloom. “Did you not visit before commiting?” She asked as you approached the mailing room.

Shaking your head as you unlocked the locker where the remainder of your packages had been delivered, you answered “I always wanted to leave the midwest for a big city and Washington, on paper, looked pretty good. Can you blame me?” 

Hailing from Salt lake City, Abby admitted she couldn't relate and accepted your reasoning as the two of you maneuvered around the boxes, stacking them on top of one another before lifting on either side. “How do you feel about it now then?”

Somewhere between a groan and sigh at the girl’s ability to continue on with all of the questions while lifting so much, you told her that you knew already that you wouldn’t give it up for the world. Fortunately, Abby could tell that you were growing winded and allowed you a breather up the stairs. After reaching the last step, you spoke before she could start back up again. “So why’d you come here? Salt Lake is beautiful, I've heard.”

She laughed, though you couldn't see her face over the boxes and cursed them for hiding it. “I picked the best school I got accepted to.” You pressed your backside against the apartment door, slowly forcing it open only to be kicked shut by Abby following you in seconds later. “You know, Utah actually had the better program, but staying home felt like I was playing it too safe so I picked the second best option.”

After setting the boxes between an assortment of smaller collections, Abby pressed for more information regarding your point of origin. “Maysville. It’s this little border city right in between Kentucky and Ohio.” You responded without looking at the girl, actively searching for a box labeled kitchen where both cleaning supplies and tools for reconstructing your carefully packaged furniture should’ve been. Sandwiched among several other boxes labeled kitchen, the last and only mid-sized box was the jackpot which you then placed in front of Abby before prancing over to your CD player, its wires haphazardly strung across the floor. It was the one and only thing you’d actually cared to put together upon arrival. “I think the website said I’d only need an allen wrench and flat head to put the couch together.” Abby nodded her head in approval, though she’d never heard of Maysville nor did she know what size of either tool that she was looking for.

“Do you have a preference for any one genre?” You asked, turning to reach for a small box of various albums and compilations. It was always better to ask than scare the girl off with some obscure industrial that had been left inside the sound system from its last use.

“Not really, but anything from the eighties is usually solid.” Instead of squatting beside the box, you bent over it rather cartoonishly, with a fingernail stuck between your upper and bottom lip as you thumbed through the collection. It wasn't so much a deliberate attempt to provoke the girl, but rather that the stretch created a burning feel in your hamstrings, so you prolonged the search, pretending you haven't found anything yet. In truth, you weren’t the only one pretending when really the girl had already found the right tools ages ago. She’d actually found them right away, but instead of saying anything she’s just allowed her hands to swim around the trinkets with the purpose of keeping up just enough noise to keep you distracted, imagining her to still be looking through the box while she was actually staring at the way your shorts had ridden up, giving her a hint of what you looked like under them, admiring the crease where your ass met your thighs. She wondered how it would feel flush against her abdomen, how beautifully your back would arch as she drilled into you from behind. 

“Found it.” You chimed revealing Wham’s ‘Make It Big’ and she echoed your words with a little too much excitement, holding up the steel instruments for you to see. An eyebrow was raised in question at the girl’s sudden enthusiasm, though she laughed it off. You then sat down cross legged in front of the girl, pulling a box over to slice open with your keys, having lost the box cutter again. “Do you not have any plans for the day?”

Abby grinned, bringing up a hand to massage her neck as she rolled it around. “Not really. I was just coming back from taking out the trash when I heard you earlier.” Absolutely perfect. You really did have a hot neighbor and not some random girl who just so happened to be in your complex visiting someone or something of that nature. “I live across from you actually.” Unboxing all three of the cardboard containers that would eventually comprise your couch was enough to lay you out across the concrete again, spread like a starfish. Your eyes closed momentarily, “I don’t know how you’re alive right now.” 

“No. It's taking everything in me not to start stripping down now.” Abby spoke, sounding closer than you remembered, and your eyelashes fluttered open to reveal the girl now kneeling over your form, the tail end of her braid only a pinch away from tickling the tip of your nose. She wouldn’t say it aloud but she wasn't suggesting stripping down because of the heat, though you were unsure if that was the true implication. 

“Be my guest. I’d walk around naked if I could.” As if you weren't already halfway there. Clad in a pair of low rising denim hot shorts and a spandex tank top with a scooped neckline, everything was pretty much outlined for the girl to see and my god the blonde took every opportunity for a glance. She’d take you on this very concrete, still sticky with sweat, right now if it wasn’t considered inappropriate to fuck your neighboors only hours after meeting them. Normally, the blonde wasn’t one to be foaming at the mouth over some girl, but there was something about the way you walked; the way you didn’t seem to visibly react to her at all. I mean, Abby knew good and damn well how to stop a room and did it often, but it was almost as if you didn’t even know that you were in the room. Regardless, patience was a virtue. The following hours passed as if they were only a fraction of moments, filled with laughter and the occasional sneak glance from either party toward the other and yet no conversation of if the other was seeing someone. Your personal rule of thumb was if it wasn’t explicit flirting then it couldn't hurt anyone. The night was a striking contrast to the midday heat and the two of you’d managed to completely finish all of the larger furniture, before it grew late. The session concluded with you standing in the doorway of Abby’s apartment, only two doors down from where you lived, as she learned against its frame with cheeks still rosy from a mix of the prior heavy lifting and all the breathless cackling you managed to snatch from her throat. 

“You should come over tomorrow.” She suggested as you glanced inside of her barely lit residence, catching a flurry of band posters plastering her entryway; each one framed and appearing to be perfectly spaced away from each other. 

“Yeah if I wake up tomorrow. I think I'll be up all night putting the rest of the kitchen together.” You huffed, chewing at your cheek. 

“Then I’ll come over tomorrow. How's that?”

“Perfect.”

[fiber-optic-alligator]

For the one word prompts: caught?

For you, anon, you get Rodimus being a well-intentioned asshole! How fun!

WARNING: THIS STORY INCLUDES SAFE VORE. THIS THIS IS SOMETHING THAT MAKES YOU UNCOMFORTABLE, THEN PLEASE DO NOT READ.

The night is dark, and you are alone. Sitting at the bar, voices and music mingle together and create a despondent melody which does nothing to ease your aching heart. You stare into the drink you are nursing; the amber liquid makes your lip curl with a grimace. Shaking your head, you push it away.

The bar is lively, yet lonely. You aren’t the only one here who is by themselves, yet the company of solitude isn’t one you wished for or anticipated. Gnawing resentment hollows out your gut. This is the last time you ever trust one of those stupid matchmaking apps. Stood up on the fifth date, and you don’t even know what you’ve done wrong. Is it your clothes? Does your breath smell? What about your hair? Is your personality shitty? You’ve spiraled through the panic and sadness, but now is time for the stage of dull anger. If they didn’t want to be with you, they at least could have told you properly. It’s a whole lot better than being completely left in the unknown.

Someone slides up into the stool next to you. No mind is paid on your part until they speak. “Rough night, huh?”

You lift your eyes to the man and take him in. He’s slouched forward with his arms crossed on the counter, head lowered a bit so he can see your face. His hair is held up by an orange headband, and he has a massive black flame tattoo rippling down his right arm. His eyes are curious and kind. His smile, though soft and without teeth, somehow dazzles you. He’s sort of dressed like he’s ready to go to an 80’s-themed Halloween party…but you can’t deny that he is quite handsome.

You huff and look back at your drink. “I’ll say.”

“It’s fine.” The man’s voice is smooth, practiced. You have a feeling he’s spoken to others in this exact same scenario before. “Plenty of people here are goin’ through it. But you…you seem more defeated than upset.”

You don’t appreciate this stranger butting into your private life while you’re wallowing in your misery. Shooting him a glare, you spit venom from your lips. “I didn’t ask for your pity, and I certainly don’t want it. Who even are you, and why the hell are you trying to talk to me?”

He holds up his hands placatingly. “Woah, woah. I’m not trying to start anything, if that’s what you’re worried about. I just…I saw you, alright? I saw you, and you looked…really down. Kinda tugged at my sparkstrings-uh, heartstrings-to see someone so sad like this. I thought…maybe I can help cheer you up.”

You give him an incredulous look. “Are you trying to hit on me by telling me you’re sad to see me alone at a bar?”

“What? No! Did you not hear a word I just said? You look like you could use some company, that’s all!”

“Well, I don’t want company. I want to be alone.” Your voice cracks a little. I feel like I’ll be alone for the rest of my life.

The man is silent, searching your features with those soulful auburn eyes. His voice is nearly a whisper. “Date chickened out on you?”

“...I guess it’s pretty apparent, isn’t it?”

“Not to be an asshole, but I kinda guess that’s the main reason why I see miserable people drinking alone at a bar.”

You laugh. It’s not a bitter sound, yet it isn’t totally happy either. It’s simply a sign of minor relief to be laughing at all. To feel your heart do that funny little jump that comes with being around someone who doesn’t make you feel totally lost. Despite only having met him a few minutes ago, this man has a charismatic aura about him that naturally pulls you in.

He grins. “Look at that. I got a laugh outta you. That’s a good start. Why don’t you tell me what’s going on?”

“I don’t tend to reveal just anything to strangers I’ve only known for less than 24 hours,” you reply.

“Touché. So why don’t we become more than strangers? I believe the term is…acquiescence?”

“Acquaintance.”

“Ah, right.” He rubs the back of his neck, sheepish. “Sorry. English…isn’t my first language. Anyway, what’s your name?”

“Y/N,” you answer. “What’s yours?”

Panic crosses his face fleetingly. “Um…m-my friends call me…Roddy.”

“Roddy?” You raise an eyebrow. “That’s…interesting.”

“I know, I know, not ideal by people's terms. But it’s just what stuck.” He shrugs. “I like your name better. It’s pretty.”

“You think so?” you ask, unable to hide a genuine smile.

He nods. You are caught in his gaze, and there’s something distinctly captivating. His eyes make you want to believe every word he says. “Why would I lie? It’s a whole lot better than ‘Roddy.’ It’s…nice. I like saying it.”

“I’d hope you’d know better than to try and seduce someone who just got their heart broken.”

“Who says I’m trying to seduce you? Maybe I’m just trying to be your friend.” He laughs, then scoots towards you and dips his head down to peer at you through his lashes. “What, do you think I’m trying to seduce you?”

There it is. You know you’ve lost this battle. “God,” you grumble, ducking away to hide how red your cheeks are. “You are incorrigible.”

“C’mon, it’s making you feel better! You need to get your mind off what happened, right? Hanging out with a friend is exactly how to solve the problem!”

“We aren’t friends. We literally just met.”

He pauses and pouts, leaning back and crossing his arms. You think he almost looks hurt by your claim. “Don’t be like that. We could be friends. This is how humans get to know each other, right? Talking and laughing and bonding?”

You wrinkle your nose in a short chuckle. This guy has the weirdest ways of talking, but you don’t really mind it. You find it endearing. “All of that takes time. I’m not going to trust you instantly. Relationships always need to grow, platonic or not.”

He’s listening with a serious expression. He goes along with what you say, and you genuinely think he’s listening to you. When you’re done, he nods. “You’re right. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to come on so forwardly, if I did. I…I’d like to be your friend. You seem like you could use one right now. And…I’m here to find one, too.”

“Finding friends in a bar? Are you sure that’s a good idea?” you ask.

He smiles. “I found you, didn’t I? You fit the bill. I can tell you’re kind…sweet. I think we’d be really good friends.” He reaches forward and brushes his fingers against the top of your hand. Something strange happens; there’s a jolt of static that makes your skin tingle, and a shiver goes down your spine. For a moment, your vision seems to swim, and you think you see flashes of red and orange and Roddy’s eyes turning a bright, alien blue. You blink, disoriented, shaking your head in a vain attempt to clear the sudden fog clouding your mind.

“So, what do you think?” Roddy asks, silky smooth. “Will you let me keep you?”

“Keep me…?” you echo.

“Keep as in…befriend. I want to show you there’s more to this universe than the sadness you’re experiencing. This world…Earth…is so small. Wonderful, but…tiny compared to what else is out there. So much to see, so much to do. So much to find. And guess what? I’m gonna find it all. You wanna come with me?”

“You’re confusing me,” you whisper. “I don’t know what you mean.”

He interlocks his fingers with yours. “Let me show you.”

He leads you out the back door into the bar’s parking lot. You feel like you are walking through a daze. You don’t know what’s happening to you, but you want to put your trust in this man. The way he looks back and gives you such a radiant grin, like the sun itself shining upon you, melts your heart.

In the back of the lot, a car awaits. It looks…retro, like him. Sleek, yet exceedingly loud, it’s some sort of muscle car with a host of red, orange, and yellow. Flame decals are painted across the hood. As the two of you draw closer, the lights turn on and the engine rumbles, growling with a pulse that runs through your bones and makes your heart stutter.

Something feels wrong.

It didn’t before. Roddy exudes no sense of danger. Yet this car…it’s off. Not normal. Alarm bells begin going off in your brain. Your feet drag you to a halt.

Roddy gives you an inquisitive look. “What’s wrong?”

You can’t take your eyes off of the car. “I…I don’t want to go near that thing.”

He winces, worrying at his bottom lip as he glances at the car with a concerning amount of confliction. He squeezes your hand.

“It’ll be okay,” he says. And then, his entire body ripples with a burst of static, and he disappears.

You don’t know what’s happened. Staring at your hand, you blink in shock. You can still feel the warmth of the man’s fingers pressed between yours. Was…was he even there at all? Did you imagine it? No, you couldn’t have. The car is still there. What the hell is going on?!

The car moves.

An alien sound emits from it as you watch it begin to shift in on itself before your very eyes. The mass of metal expands and grows, forming a pair of arms and legs, a torso twisting and snapping into place, massive shoulder blades heaving upward with a head rising up with sharp finials extending like dragon horns. Twin pairs of bright cyan optics open and immediately focus on you. You feel your heart drop straight into the pit of your stomach. It’s a robot. A car-turned-robot. You think you might have ingested too much alcohol, but the way the robot’s body whirs with the smooth sound of machinery as it takes a step towards you, the way you can feel the vibration of its feet hitting the pavement is so, so real, you know this is happening. This isn’t a hallucination.

You still don’t know where Roddy went.

The robot makes a purring noise, squatting down and extending a hand. Panic rips through you, and you stumble back, avoiding the reaching fingers. “No!” you shriek. “Stop! Don’t!”

It pauses and frowns, making a low whining noise. It shuffles closer and gestures for you to get closer. You wish to do no such thing; you want to get as far away from this monster as possible. What does it want with you? To kill you? Eat you? No, robots can’t eat. Is it going to abduct you?

Letting out a huff of exhaust, the robot’s eyes narrow resolvingly. It inches closer, and you continue to move back. There is nowhere to go. You can’t make a run for it. It’s faster. You can tell. There is no chance of escaping.

Your eyes flash to the bar’s back door. Not thinking about the possible consequences, you act only upon pure, desperate instinct. Like a deer bolting from a wolf, you whirl and pelt for the door, pushing every ounce of strength into your legs to propel yourself as quickly as possible. Get away. You need to get away.

You aren’t fast enough.

The robot slams its hand down on top of you. The breath is knocked from your lungs as metal presses you into the pavement. Fingers tightly cage you in, pinning your arms to your sides. Everything spins when you are lifted into the air, slowly, gradually. You cry out and struggle with all of your might, screaming bloody murder at the thing. “No! No! Stop! Stop it! Put me down!”

The robot warbles loudly. Is…Is this fucking thing laughing at you?

Well, all of your bravado goes out the door when it brings you close to its face. Bright optics study you with unsubdued excitement while huge metallic lips part. It grins triumphantly, making a multitude of loud purrs and hums while it turns you side to side like you’re some sort of exotic creature. Fear grips you; there’s so much terror in your soul, you can barely breathe. Too much. This is too much for one night. It’s been tumultuous, and now there’s a giant robot holding you and you might die, you might be-

The robot’s mouth opens wider. There’s a blue pulse deep within it that is the same color as its eyes. You see teeth bigger than your head loom closer as it draws you near, segmented tongue reaching to meet you.

Ah. So you’re going to be eaten, then.

Your scream is cut off when the robot carefully tosses you in. Jaws slam shut and artificial saliva soaks you as you are turned over and tasted again and again and again. Your mind reels with the overstimulation. Everything is happening at once and your brain isn’t keeping up with it. And when you feel the robot tilt its head back and begin pushing you backwards towards its awaiting throat, you can only think of one thing: doom.

Your fingers dig into the plush tongue, searching for any hold that will prevent you from going down. But it is to no avail; the robot simply raises the unbelievable muscle and gives you one last coaxing nudge. With a shriek, you are caught. The throat bobs and gives out a squelching glk. Blue light completely envelops you as you are squeezed and kneaded at all angles. It’s a long journey, one you are hardly conscious of since you nearly pass out from your terror. And when you make it to your final destination, there is no letting up in the embrace. Walls of muscle made out of strange, squishy cables filled with pumping pink liquid force you to sink into their warmth. By god, you are so warm. The robot’s stomach gurgles happily, giving you long repetitive squeezes. You aren’t in any pain. But you are exhausted from the mental and physical strain being eaten alive has exposed you to.

Lying on your stomach, you try to push yourself up in order to fight. The stomach senses this and hugs you even tighter. Your arms shake with fatigue, and you fall back down into the puddle of saliva you landed in. There’s no use fighting. You can’t get out.

Somewhere above you, the robot is purring. A steady hand presses against you from the outside and begins lightly massaging your little form. You let out a weak groan that is meant to be words; perhaps a plea for mercy, or maybe a string of curses. Whatever the intention might be, you don’t have the energy to properly form it. Right now, all you want to do is sleep.

So you do. You are out like a light, pink being the last thing you see. All the while, Roddy’s words repeat themselves to you, over and over and over again. “Will you let me keep you?”

It seems he’s decided not to give you a choice.

[peace-for-levi]

{when you need me...}

who would i be if i didn't project my mental health onto 2D characters/reader and not write about it? i see so many fics of reader being worried for nanami while he's out in shibuya and… we all know what happens there.

content warning: detailed descriptions of anxiety, reader refers to themselves as 'wife' (reader thinks they are a bad wife) and the use of 'she'. it's otherwise in the 2nd person perspective. negative self-talk/beliefs. use of pet names. nanami being the bestest husband. i miiiiight have made him OOC and overindulged on how soft i made him BUT ITS OK YOU GOTTA BE A DELULU IN THIS ECONOMY.

+18 discord server

No, you were not going to call him. Absolutely not! Or text him either, for that matter.

The anxiety had been bubbling away all day inside your head like billowing storm clouds. You were grateful work kept you occupied, but once you arrived home, you trudged to your bedroom. You didn't even change out of your work attire.

You knew the source of all this, too.

Nanami came home injured while you were out dealing with another curse of your own. Thankfully, he had dealt with the bleeding himself and got checked out by Shoko. But to see him come so depleted of energy – dark shadows hanging under his eyes like bats, shoulders heavy – left you extremely unsettled. You were already an anxious mess, and now there are talks of a special-grade 'patchwork' curse. Not to mention the two unregistered cursed spirits that Gojo encountered.

What was going on in the world?

Now, he had been called out to the school again. After being badly injured, no less!

What if he was asked to fight the patch-work curse again? Was that curse able to perform Domain Expansions? Your husband never reached that height of jujutsu…

Would he… make it home okay?

You worked a "normal" job, not being employed at as a teacher at the highschool. As a grade one sorcerer, though, you were sometimes called in on particularly difficult and awkward missions. Your figured your problems with anxiety in the past would slowly fizzle away if you quit working at that highschool; after all, they couldn't make you exorcise and hunt down curses as often if you didn't work there. In your naivety, you assumed that'd be the end to your worries. But they only persisted and got worse the longer your husband of four years continued to work there as a teacher.

You couldn't resent him for it, and you knew he found greater fulfillment in being a teacher than adhereing to the laborious life of a salaryman.

But, maybe… your selfish thoughts got the better of you when you wished he could work a more "normal" job like you… If he worked a job where his safety was guaranteed…

How could you say such a thing? What kind of wife says that?!

Your hand collides against your forehead, releasing a (poorly contained) groan. Your teeth continued to chatter.

Now, I'm a bad wife on top of everything else…

Gruesome images flood your mind's eye. It's obsessive, relentless. After all, you have to prepare for the worst to come, right…? That's what you always do.

If you were by his side, would that make you feel any more relieved? Just by seeing him? But like a jolt, any solution you try come up with is met with more disturbing imagery. It was so vivid, it is as if you were there.

All that gore and worry conjured up in your cursed, anxious little head. The redness – so much red – of your imagery. It seeps and spreads along the ground at a terrifying rate, the image of someone – Kento – bleeding out. No one is there to help him.

You are.

You aren't gifted like Shoko, though.

There is no amount of horror – be it from forms of media or the wicked imagination – that can prepare a person for seeing the life ebb from another; the hopelessness, the tearing at the soul that is the departing of the other. As your loved one leaves this earth.

You're anxious, you're spiralling… You just wanted him to be okay. You wanted him to confirm with you he was okay. But you disturb him enough already with your texts and calls during missions.

Of course, in reality, if you hailed for Kento, he'd drop everything to be with you. He always has.

You didn't realize your thumb was hovering above the 'send' button. Through bleary eyes, you can see a hastily constructed text. Loaded with typos and errors. You're hardly able to read it though. Thumbs fidgting, you toss the phone.

You knew, logically, that he would want to help. He always has helped. But god, maybe you wanted to be big girl for once and try deal with it without him? Maybe be a good wife who doesn't send him a barage of texts when she's anxious?

Anxiety is the leak in your boat. You have to find a way to patch that hole or you'll drown.

But how can you when your worries revolve around your husband's safety?

You try cling to the logic that he has never refused you, made you feel stupid or invalidated you. Ever. But why would you cling to logic when the voice of your anxiety echoes through megaphone at you.

Of course, you're a distraction. Of course, you're a nuisance.

You hadn't even done a single chore to help around the house today. Some wife you were…

Kento would tell you that these thoughts you have are ridiculous. But you couldn't help it. You felt like you were holding him back from everything he deserved – you were so blessed to have a husband like him. You counted your lucky stars to be with him, but you ultimately felt like you didn't deserve him.

But Kento wasn't here now. So all you had was your mind to bully you.

The thoughts come as an electrical storm in your brain that, quite honestly, are painful. It's different from a headache and it feels the same as intense sorrow. It's uneven breaths as you claw at your chest, and it feels like you're suffocating; all the oxygen has been sucked out of the room. It's sobbing to the point of staining your shirt. The intense images come at you with cursed intent. Like being hooked up to a cattle fence - not enough voltage to kill but sufficient to keep things uncomfortable, paralysed with fear and unmoving. And you couldn't, for the life of you, talk yourself out of the spiral.

It wasn't as if you didn't want Kento to be there. You were just denying yourself of his presence. You thought you were being brave, you thought—

Ping!

You lower your hands from your eyes. You gaze at the phone, blinking owlishy, before picking it up.

You let out a groan. In anxiously twiddling your thumbs by your screen, you had sent the (questionable-looking) text.

You don't even have time to berate yourself, for your ringtone begins to chime.

"[F/n], honey. I don't quite understand your text," he greets. He goes back to doing what he was doing – it sounded like he was tidying something away. "Principal Yaga has us staying behind at the school to–"

He stops.

He immediately stops upon hearing you whimper over the phone.

"Sweetheart?"

You mumble, "I-I– Um, N-Nanami, I–"

What if he loses his patience today? Will this be the straw that breaks the camel's back?

You can hear him shuffling over the phone. "Talk to me, what is it? Are you hurt?"

You don't want him to leave work on your account. Damn, your thumbs! If only it stayed as an unsent draft.

You panicked. "I-I'm fine! I think I just–"

You hear him sigh. "You're a terrible liar… You're not fine." A pause. "I'm coming home."

"No, Kento, please–!"

The call ends there. Your fingers seize up and your phone falls to the bed. Your wrists bash off your head, hitting yourself. Stupid, stupid, stupid…

Ping!

Be safe. I'll be there in fifteen.

Your heart sinks, especially knowing that he'd probably break several road safety laws to get back to you as soon as possible.

Another notification arrives swiftly after that.

I love you. You'll be fine.

The fifteen minutes drag by so slowly. You're still rooted at the side of your bed. Not having changed, started laundry, started making dinner. You shake your head. It's frightful how automatically you chastise yourself for anything and everything. Once you hear the click of the door, you shudder and cower, waiting for him to come into your shared bedroom to berate you.

Your eyes are clamped shut still, even when you feel his calloused thumb rub at your knee.

"Oh, sweetheart…" he says, and when he speaks it's so soft. Soft like he'd holding fine china.

He's careful to not press your boundaries too much, not wanting to hold you tighter. But he doesn't sense any resistance right now. You let him hold you.

He holds you like you are the most precious and loveliest thing in his world.

(You are.)

As if you weren't crying enough already, his touch makes you crumble more.

"What has you so anxious, [F/n]?" he asks, rubbing your arms up and down. He pulls away briefly to ask, "May I sit?"

You nod and he sets himself down. You overwhelmed by his love. You always have been. He always spoils you with his soft, passionate touch and his gentle words. You sniffle and it takes every ounce of self control to not explode into a heaving, babbling mess (more than what you currently were.) You continue to sob into his arms.

"Shhh, shhh. You're alright, you're going to be just fine, sweetheart. But in order to be okay, you're going to have to stop holding your breath like that."

You hadn't even realized. You always had been an open book to him.

Breathe, breathe, breathe…

Your thoughts were so out of control, you were in a terrible cycle of either hyperventilating, or holding your breath. You shake your head, trying to break free. He doesn't let go entirely, but he loosens his grip. His hands hold yours, breathing deeply, as if trying to do it for you. You continue to resist, fighting his hold more as you take agonizing breaths.

"Let me hold you. Let me make things better. Let me stay."

You sob harder, knowing that once again he'll be picking up the pieces. Your pieces.

"What has you so worked up?" he asks, in between practiced, deep breaths.

Before you even have a chance to say anything, he whispers softly against your temple, "I love you. So, please, let me in."

And you let everything out.

He holds you close again once each and every worry comes out. He rocks you slowly back and forth, he plants the odd kiss to your dewy temple. He listens to you intently, taking in everything you say and more. He has heard these worries countless times before, and he listens to them as if these are being revealed to him for the first time. He gently 'shhhh's against your brow when you start to hiccup and unravel more.

As your husband, he wants to be able to promise you his safert; he wants to promise he'll come home in one piece.

But he can't do that. Because he doesn't know how any of this will play out.

So he hugs you, impossibly tighter.

"What can I do to help? Tell me what I can do to make it all okay…"

You want to be a good wife; you don't share the selfish thoughts you have, of wanting him to work at a normal job again. Even when he hated it, even when it left him feeling so drained.

So you say nothing and you let your little lie spread its wings.

You calm down in his arms, holding you until your limbs feel heavy. He continues to soothe you as best as possible. His voice was so achingly gentle, rubbing circles into your hips. It has your heart shattering into pieces.

Mindlessly, you mumble under your breath. "I just want you to be okay…" you admit.

He averts his gaze helplessly, because knows he can't promise you that. He relaxes and lays down on the bed, taking you with him. You undo the top button of his shirt.

He smiles sadly. It's the one thing he can't promise.

And though he'll never let you know, he feels like he fails in this duties as a husband.

But sometimes, he knows he's at least doing something right when he helps calm you down from such a state that you end up dozing off in his arms. He holds you til his arms limp and heavy.

In this blood-stained, fleeting life, he'll walk with you to the ends of this earth.

Even if he must depart early.

taglist: @levi-my-beloved @licuadora-nasir @nelapanela94 @whattheheckmidoriya @poisonpeche @unadulteratedtreecrusade @notgoodforlife @sckerman @theferricfox @happybird16 @jayteacups and idk who else

[rustycopper4use]

Ok, uhm....I've seen someone make a request for poly Ozzie x Fizz x Reader in which the reader is Blitzø's brother, but I got a better one for you! How about (poly ofc) Ozzie x Fizz x Male Reader who is Striker's older brother? Like, maybe he heard about what happened in greed ring and came to apologise on his brother's behalf and maybe offer his services as bodyguard?

Fizz x Ozzie x Male reader!

sorry I went a little bit off the rails but I hope you like it!!

At the beginning you were close to fizzaroli as kids.

 you first met him at one of his shows, and you would try to see all his shows. And ended up dragging your younger brother striker to them, much to his protests.

  You would spend hours with fizzaroli, him being the only sense of affection in your life. Giving your family’s old fashioned values. His was the escape from it all.

 Your father resented the wasted time spent with some lowly circus clown, he would try every thing to make you to stop seeing him. After awhile he even turned Striker against you, which in retrospect wasn’t hard he idolized him. 

 In the ended up with you sneaking out the house everyday to see the goofy imp.

 However that was until the fire. You had been only been able to talk to him when you actually came to the circus.

 So one day you went to see him, with a small birthday gift you’d be able to pay for.

 only to met with ashes, and burnt remains of childhood memories, it was hauntingly void of life still fresh with smoke.

 And you never heard from him again.

  You left the gift in the remains. It became a regular thing, you’d leave a small gift every year on his birthday.

  A way to remember him, maybe you’d just like the sadness that came with it rather than the bitter empty feeling in your cold aching chest. 

 Or you’re still in denial, waiting for the day he’ll somehow come back and it’ll be some big cruel joke.

  After that you replaced that time with meaningless jobs, helping dad around the farm. 

  While your younger brother took up kill for hire, you would be along aside for protection, an extra set of hands. 

 This new attitude brought a sense of pride to the rest of the family.

 Your relationship wasn’t the same with your less than functional family. You weren’t ever close to your father or brother but, it got even more distant. Opting for only talking when needed.

  One day striker came back from a job beaten bruised, and burned.

 As you fixed him up, he whined about his failed attempt, he brought up an all to familiar name.

 “Y’know that lowlife clown was such a brat to deal with, and his pathetic friend Blizto-“

 “Are you talking about fizzaroli?”

 “-Wait no, Fizzaroli’s alive?.”

 “Look I don’t care if you had a soft spot for that thing, I had a job and I’m gonna go through with it.”

 “You never thought to tell me he was alive!”

 “Of course I didn’t, Dad and I knew you were going to act like this, you became a better demon because of us.”

 “Get out.”

 Striker gets to door before turning back towards you.

 “Im not gonna give up this job because you’ve grown weak.”

 “Oh I know you won’t.”

 He left.

  You weren’t sure what to do now. Striker was a stubborn person, he wouldn’t give up till Fizzaroli’s head was on a stick.

  Luckily for you. you were just as petty as the snake.

 For the next few days you looked for opportunities to work at Ozzie’s. You came across for a listing for a personal bodyguard for Fizz. 

 You got scheduled for an interview, part of you dreaded seeing him again.

 You headed down(up?) to the lust ring. The gorgeous neon lights, against the calming rain.

  The Ozzie’s club was nothing short of a spectacle. And the start to your new life.

  Ozzie was apprehensive on hiring someone with relations with the demon that kidnapped Fizzaroli in the first place. 

 But Fizz reassured his worries, he knew you weren’t like him.

 The start of this job was- not exactly awkward, but there was this weird air around you three. A few weeks in and you’ve finally settled in, you grew comfortable with the duo and life finally felt back on track.

 You still felt guilt for what your brother did, you would always give gifts to fizzaroli as a form of an apology, a better change than what you did for 15 years. You also get into the habit of going above what was asked for even at your own expense.

 Even when Fizzaroli explained he didn’t blame you, it was your brother’s actions after all. You settled for buying him flowers every other day.

  The two would flirt with you, fizzaroli being more bold, knowing exactly what makes you tick and that special spot that makes you melt.

  Ozzie on the other hand, had a different approach. He took on a more romantic strategy, he learned very early on that his voice was your weakness, a few praises and you were a goner. 

 When striker found out he was pissed. His own brother fooling around with blue blood, how did you turn out like this.

 Every time he would show up you always up lovey-dovey just to rub salt in a wound.

  Fizzaroli adored it when you’d get riled up and your southern accent would slip. He would purposely push your buttons lovingly just to hear it.

 Every time Fizzaroli would want attention you’d always make sure to hold his face given it’s the only part he can really feel now.

 Ozzie was the only one that Could cook, and that still didn’t change with you around. Sure you weren’t as bad as Fizz but still.

 Fizzaroli would call you a cowboy (affectionately)

[ariasakka]

If Touya Todoroki were still alive he’d hate to know what his lover was doing with his father. 18+

Reader notes

Heads up, I think my stories are a bit (or a lot idk) longer than most people’s I see on here. 6k words. I’m not an experienced writer so don’t expect it to be written perfectly. Hopefully you enjoy!

18+ , smut, age difference, daddy kink, power imbalance if you squint I guess

You can find all of the stories I publish to tumblr about Enji under the hashtag enjiaria

If Touya Todoroki were still alive he’d hate to know what his lover was doing with his father. 18+

You were dating Dabi/Touya. You met at the smoke shop. Touya needed a job and you were the same. You’d been working there since you were 15. You and Touya quickly became fond of eachother and began dating. You continued dating for the next 5 years. Touya ended up joining the league of villains as a way to seek revenge on his dad. You knew he had daddy issues and you sure did too but you wished he didn’t join. You worried about his safety daily. You didn’t end up joining the villains and continued working different jobs until you landed one at a bakery. It payed the most. Touya sure didn’t make a lot being a villain. Not unless he robbed someone but you didn’t want to pay rent with stolen money in fear of being caught. The best the both of you could afford was a small run down one bedroom apartment but you didn’t mind as long as you got to be with your love. Touya could be mean, he had anger issues but at the end of the day he was always so sweet. You couldn’t imagine life without him. He started being more distant as the final fight against his dad approached. He knew it would be his last he was already getting more and more burnt up with each fight he knew he couldn’t last another. He loved you so much but in the end revenge would consume him. You hadn’t heard from him in a week. He never said goodbye. He never left a note. Nothing. You desperately tried to find him. You heard from one of his villain friends where the fight would be. You rushed into the danger yelling for Touya begging him to stop and come back to you. Touya mouthed “I love you I’m sorry” when he saw you. He wished you didn’t show up he didn’t want you in danger that’s why he left without word or location. Endeavor looked over at you. Seeing you crying for his son. He felt horrible. Then..then it all went down. Touya and Dabi were gone. You spent everynight for a month mourning him. Clinging to photos you had of him in your chest. You had no one. Touya along with every single one of his friends who were also your only friends were dead. You were the only one left. After a month passed you found out Rei and Endeavor had set out a grave for Touya. You visited it everyday.

Endeavor always wonders what his son was like, he desperately wants to ask you being that you are the only living person he knows of that knew anything about him. He often saw you at Touyas grave but always waited until you left not wanting to disturb you feeling like you probably hated him too. He had previously hired a private investigator years ago to spy on Touya. He wanted to get to know his son better. In almost all of those pictures Touya was with you. Kissing you. He knew you had to be the closest person to him. Now that Touya’s villain friends were gone he knew you were the only living person who knew Touya in his older ages.

You had heard on the news that Endeavor’s family members cut him off after that fight. His wife divorced him and kids moved out. You also saw he started doing more charity work and less press. In all honesty you didn’t hate Endeavor you saw him as a broken man who changed or was trying to change for the better. You’re hoping he finds peace you actually hold no resentment towards Endeavor you are a very forgiving person.

One day when he sees you at the grave he has the courage to approach you. He slowly walks up behind you and puts a hand on your shoulder keeping you in place not wanting you to turn around and look at him or he’ll be too nervous to ask. He tells you to hear him out but that if you hate him you’re allowed to hit him, kick him, yell at him, punch him anything that you want and then leave just hear him out first. He says he feels horrible that the way he treated Touya made him turn out this way and that you’re the only living person he knows that his son was close with and loved. He asked if you’d be willing to tell him about what his son was like. To his surprise you turned around slowly grabbing his hand off your shoulder, holding it softly smiling gently at him saying you’d be happy to. He was amazed by your grace and seemly no hatetrid towards him but he didn’t question it he had to know about Touya’s life.

You gave him your number and invited him to come over to your apartment for tea to tell him about Touya.

He came over on a weekend when he was off work. You made him matcha tea. As he walked in he noticed how small, run down, and bleak the apartment was. It was in a horribly unsafe area of town too. He was shocked you lived here he didn’t expect this as you looked so put together plus he assumed Touya had to make some money being a villain didn’t he? He also noticed some pictures hanging of you and Touya together hung on the messy run down walls.

You told him that you and Touya lived here when he was alive and that Touya didn’t really make money from being a villain so you mostly worked. But you only worked at a small bakery so you didn’t have much money.

After your conversation Endeavor and saw that it went well he asked if he could see you again. He told you he wanted a friendly somewhat close relationship with you because of your connection to Touya. That and he was honestly really lonely and you were the only person who didn’t seem to hate him but he didn’t want to admit that.

You said yes. You told him after Touya and all his friends died you didn’t have anyone close in your life. You explained how the main person in your life was Touya and his friends but now you didn’t have anyone so being friendly with Endeavor would be fine.

He comes over again next weekend. You enjoy telling him more about Touya. It’s nice having someone to talk with about him now that everyone who knew him before is long gone.

On Monday on endeavors lunch he took a longer break to be able to go over to that awful side of town. He visited the bakery you worked at as an excuse to see you. You were suprised at how nice and warm he was it was very unexpected from what Touya had told you about. You only saw this as a positive sign meaning that he must have been truly changing, you trusted him more because of this.

He offered to invite you over to his house next weekend for dinner but you declined insisting he comes to your apartment instead saying it’s too dangerous for you to go back home so late because of the part of town you live in.

Endeavor frowns at your statement concerned of what awful things his son must of gotten his lover involved in. Surely you couldn’t have lived like this before Touya. He declines and insists but more like politely demands that you come over anyways he tells you to sleep in one of the guest rooms so you won’t have to worry about going back home. You accept.

When you arrive at the previous Todoroki house now just Endeavors house you’re in awe at how big and beautiful it is. When you enter Endeavor hands you some soup telling you to eat then saying he needs to have a serious conversation with you after. You’re nervous. Though he’s sweet to you and seems like a good person now his dominate personality is intimidating. Too intimidating to disobey anything he tells you to do. You quickly eat as he watches you in silence. After you finish you take a gulp of water and he guides you to the living room couch sitting you down next to him.

You speak laughing softly trying to play off your nerves

“E-Endeavor you’re making me awful nervous you know”

Endeavor

“Call me Enji please.”

You

“O-okay yes Enji”

Enji

“I apologize if this sounds rude but your apartment looks like it could break if you breathe too hard. The part of town you live in is scary even to me the number 1 hero. I don’t want the girl my son loved to be living in such a horrible place. I want to offer to pay for an apartment on this side of town. There’s many close to this house but i can get one in whatever building you like. If you keep living where you do I fear you’ll only be alive for another 10 years. Touya wouldn’t want this. I don’t want this.”

You

“Thank you for your offer Enji but it’s too far of a commute to make it to the bakery and I can’t have you spending money on me I’d feel to bad.”

Enji

“Nonsense. I have more than enough money to know what to do with myself. Bakery’s pay more over here anyways. I can find you a new job. Please accept my offer I’m worried about you.”

You excuse yourself to the restroom to collect your thoughts. You hate that he’s offering you feel as though he looks down on you for being poor. You question it for a few moments and think it couldn’t be that bad. You’d have to be pretty stupid to turn down this offer from Endeavor of all people. It’s not like any of your friends are alive to judge you anymore. You pull out your phone to see what the apartment costs here are. You audibly gasp at the cost! It’s more than tripple what your apartment is now. You simply would feel too bad having Endeavor/ Enji do that even if he is rich. You remember how’s he’s told you his family moved out into a new home he built them. This house is pretty big. Honestly the size of a small hotel. You decide to ask to live in one of the spare rooms instead it’ll be a smaller cost to him. Plus you can cook for him often to show your thanks as a way to makeup for the trouble of you being there.

You go back out to the living room and tell him your idea. Nervous to hear his response.

Enji is suprised at your suggestion wondering why on earth you’d ever want to live with an awful man like him?! But then again he thinks it is a big house, he’s getting lonely in his older age, plus he’s usually working so it’s not like you’d have to see him often. He accepts.

Enji

“Alright. I only use two rooms in this house. One for sleeping, one for training. You’re welcome to pick whatever rooms you’d like then for whatever you choose. I work most of the day so you won’t have to worry about me being in your way. I’d like you to move in as soon as possible please.”

You

“Thank you Enji. What meals do you like? I can cook for you for when you get back from work. It’s the least I can do after everything you’ve done.”

He ponders fighting the urge to tell you not to cook for him but decides not to fight back finding your kindness endearing. Plus he wants to be more likeable he doesn’t want to hurt your feelings saying no. He accepts and tells you what meals he likes.

You end up moving in the next weekend. Enji is ready to help you with loads of boxes but you only have one. To be honest you didn’t have much stuff. He felt a little sad knowing all you had was one box. Enji carried it for you the entire way back to his home. When you both arrived back Enji pulled out some cash and handed it to you for a “shopping spree”. Now that you were here he wanted to spoil you. He didn’t get to do that with his wife or children he wanted a chance to be that way for someone. Plus he knew Touya would be happy knowing you were being treated well.

You got a new bakery job quickly and went shopping for new clothes with Enji’s money over the next week everyday after work. That weekend he was home all day. You wanted to be even closer with him since you would be living with him from now on. You were feeling a bit playful this weekend…to be honest it was mostly because you had sneakily drank some of Enji’s beer while he was sleeping. You gave him a little clothing haul showing him all the outfits and stuff you got with his money. Showing him how thankful you were.

He liked how playful you were being. He was starting to see you as a family figure. He was growing attached to you quite quickly maybe it was your kindness or just the fact that you seemed to be the only person who didn’t hate him he didn’t know.

You have been living together for a month now. Feeling a bit closer everyday over the meals you shared together. It felt domestic but sweet. You hadn’t seen him much the past week he was busy with hero work. You honestly started to miss him it surprised you. One morning you woke up to the sound of him grunting working out. You were happy he was back. You rushed out of bed to see him and ask if he was okay. He had never been away this long before you were worried. When you arrived at the opened door of his workout room you saw him shirtless and sweating grunting loudly while kicking and punching his punching bag. You stood there silently for a moment taking in the site of him. You’d never seen him shirtless before. He usually was in long sleeves and sweatpants. To be fair when you had first met it was winter, now it’s warming up so it’s not surprising to see him in different attire but still you didn’t expect to see this sight. You subconsciously bite your lip, you start to have lewd thoughts about him but quickly try to get them out of your head. God why are you thinking this? Is it just because you haven’t been layed in a while? You were used to Touya using you 3 times a day. Enji was the only person you were around aside from work. Do you really need to get out that badly? You stumble trying to get those thoughts of your lovers dad out of your head. Enji hears a noise and notices you in the door. He pauses for a moment noticing you biting your lip. He always thinks you look so cute in your sleep wear. Your sleep wear is some old t shirt of his and old sweatpants of shotos he had given you on your first night here. The way your looking right now is making him flustered but he tries to ignore it. No way Touya’s girlfriend would ever be thinking of him like that and no way could he think of you like that either.

Enji

“Hi, how long have you been there?”

You

“Sorry. Just a minute. I heard you were home and wanted to check on you. Are you alright. You’ve never been gone that long.. I was worried about you.”

Enji

“Sorry I didn’t text I didn’t think you would care. I’m alright sweetheart. I just had to go out of town to fight a difficult villain with Hawks. The hero’s over there had a difficult time getting rid of em. I’ll text you next time how long I’ll be gone so you don’t worry. Okay?”

You

“Okay. I’m going to bathe and get ready. Did you eat yet? When I’m done I can make you some breakfast.”

Enji

“Some black coffee and pancakes would be nice if you don’t mind.”

You

“Ah the bakery has been making pancakes recently so I can do that. It should be done in an hour.”

You leave the room to head to the bath. You can’t help but hear his deep voice calling you “sweetheart” over and over again replaying in your head. Why did he call you that? Did he mean to? No, he was just being nice he probably views you like a daughter. Why did you like it so much. You guess it’s not that bad to find Endeavor sexy, it’s not like half of Japan doesn’t already. It’s not like anything will ever happen.

You finish your bath. It’s hot today so you put on a lavender tank top with a black skirt. You go to make the pancakes.

The pancakes are finished and Enji walks in the kitchen. Your hair is still wet from your bath. Your wet hair sits on your chest soaking your top slightly you move the hair out of the way as you go to give Enji his food. You don’t notice but Enji sure does…the wetness of your hair being over your chest makes your lavender top stick to your skin..not wearing a bra it looks completely see through on your breasts. Enji can’t help but stare. He gulps at how perky your breasts, and how pink your nipples are. He tries to move his gaze elsewhere to be respectful but it only leads him to your legs. Suddenly noticing the skirt you’re wearing. You had never worn something like this before. Your legs looked so soft and sensual it was driving him crazy. He quickly grabbed his food and ate at the table not saying a word to you. He glanced over at you cleaning the kitchen while he was eating. You clearly still hadn’t noticed your top was completely see through. It’s alright though it was starting to dry. He didn’t want to embarrass you so he didn’t say anything. Plus he didn’t mind the veiws. You were short so as you got on your tip toes to put away things in the kitchen cabinet your ass showed slightly. Enji almost choked on his coffee when he got that view. He wanted to know what you looked like bend over the counter top and what you sounded like moaning from his touch. He had to get those thoughts out of his head. You weren’t related so it wouldn’t be illegal but he couldn’t do that to Touya. He figured his feelings were just because he hadn’t had sex since Rei left. Nothing more.

Over the next few months Enji continued to casually call you sweetheart during sentences he didn’t notice he started doing this but you couldn’t get it out of your head. It sent tingles down your spine every time he did. Your attraction towards him only grew stronger and you hated it. You tried to tell yourself it was just because you hadn’t been layed but that was a lie. You had a one night stand with a customer you met at the bakery a month ago and it did nothing. It didn’t help you relieve anything you felt at all. Thats how you knew all of these feelings weren’t because of anything other than you having a crush on Enji. Touya’s father. What would he think of you? Enji isn’t the same bad man he was when Touya was little. He’s so sweet and caring you found it endearing. A big strong sexy man with a soft spot only for you? You loved it. Your feelings got the best of you and you decided to ask Enji to train you. Just simple work outs. As an excuse to see him be all hot and sweaty. Nothing had to happen you weren’t going to make a move.

Little did you know he wanted you just as badly. He didn’t mind casually complimenting you or shamelessly teasingly flirting with you. Finding any excuse he could to hug you or put his hands on your shoulder. He didn’t think you’d ever feel the same way and felt too guilty to make a real move so he found all of these actions to be harmless. Oh was he wrong.

When you asked him to workout with you he accepted. When he saw the outfits you wore to workout with him slowly becoming more and more revealing he lost his mind. He didn’t think you were doing it for him he simply thought it was just because of the weather. You on the other hand were pushing your limits tempting him trying to see if he would look at you. That’s all you needed was a look from him at your body. You figured it would be enough to get you off at night then you could go back to playing a sweet and innocent daughter role.

Little did you know you were getting to Enji. The second he went to bed he touched himself to the thought of you in your pretty little outfits. He had enough self control not to be obvious in front of you but god the second he was alone he went mad over you. He wanted to see you on your knees, bent over the bed. He wanted to see you in so many ways. The guilt that he was feeling this way over his son’s girlfriend felt so naughty it was oddly turning him on more.

The next two weeks you continued you train and also lost your self control. You touched yourself to Enji every night when you thought he was asleep. Unknown to you he could hear your moans and the sound of you finger fucking your pussy. On the last night of those two weeks he heard you moan his name while you were touching yourself and he lost it. He pulled down his boxers and began to touch himself to the sounds of your moans. You both finished at the same time. He cared for you deeply he felt bad that he also wanted you in this way too but now that he heard you moan his name..he figured you just wanted him sexually. Could that hurt? A woman has needs too. He could please you and then go back to being sweet and warm with you the rest of the time right?

The next day you were working out with him. He was trying his best not to act awkward after hearing you moan his name last night. He tried the best he could but ended up not paying attention to where he was putting his feet causing you to trip over his big foot.

You tripped and he grabbed you quickly his thumb resting right under your breast. You never seemed to wear a bra and he noticed. He stared at your lips. Then gazed his eyes down the rest of your body panting harder the longer he looked. Unknowingly to him his face was growing redder.

You

“Why are you looking at me like that?”

Playing innocent. You were hoping he’d make the first move so you didn’t have to seem like the bad one.

Enji

“It’s not my fault you always look so damn beautiful”

He was about to say sorry realizing what he had just said out loud but he quickly noticed your pupils dilate when he said that. They got so big your eyes looked black.

Enji

“Am I going mad in my old age or..do you feel more than platonic about me?”

You

“Of course I do. Your…you’re like a father figure”

Enji

“Mm I know you’re smart don’t play stupid sweetheart.”

You gasp before saying

“I- I… I’m sorry. I wasn’t trying to feel this way I just- I want you. So bad.”

Enji

“I can hear.”

You

“W-what?”

Enji lowers his mouth to your ear and says

“I can hear you moaning my name at night. I can hear you touch yourself. Do you always touch yourself to me or was it just last night?”

You

“I- I’m. It’s always to you. But..we shouldn’t do this. Touya. It’s just..you’re becoming too irresistible E-Enji”

Enji against his better judgment replies

“What kind of host would I be if I didn’t please my guest hm? And for Touya..I know I’ve held myself back from you these last few months because of him but then I thought..would he really want his beloved to go touch starved for the rest of her life? I’m sure he’d want you to be spoiled. I can spoil you sweetheart. Let me.”

You think it can’t be that bad. He is Touya’s father in a way you’ll always have a part of Touya with you this way. You bite your lip and moan softly. Enji takes that as a yes. Usually your head length is right below his nipples while standing. He lifts you up in his arms so your face can reach his. He kisses you softly trying to hold himself back at least somewhat. He doesn’t want to hurt you he knows in the past he can get carried away and be too rough in bed. With you he just wants to please you gently for now that’ll be enough for him. He walks to his bedroom with you. You had never been in his room before the scent smelled just like him. It was so comforting. You had such weird mixed feelings between intense lust for the big man and also wanting him to hold you in his arms and treat you like his spoiled girl. He sits up on his bed with you in his lap. He grabs your ass gently before tugging at your shorts taking them off. He grabs your bare ass and feels down further, teasing your wet entrance with his thick fingers.

Enji

“So fucking tight sweetheart do you not put your fingers inside when you touch yourself?”

You say though soft moans

“Mm I do but y-yours are really big you know”

Enji lifts up your hand placing his fingers next to yours. Two of your fingers aren’t even as thick as one of his. He knew he was a big guy and you were a petite girl but still he didn’t expect you to be so tight. He was used to being with Rei for years who had plenty of years of experience taking all of him he had forgotten what she felt like at the beginning. He knew it would be a tight fit. The thought of it made him drip precum in his boxers. You were so innocent he could teach you everything. But were you? You’d been with Touya surely he wasn’t going easy on you if he took after his dad in any way and surely you had to had been with plenty of men Enji thought to himself. If so..why were you so god damn tight even on his thick fingers?

Enji

“Tell me something sweetheart. How many men have you been with?”

You

“Two.”

Enji

“Touya and who?”

You

“Touya and one guy who came in to the bakery. Only once. I was just trying to get my mind off of you but it didn’t work. It wasn’t very enjoyable to be honest.”

Enji

“I didn’t expect you to be so inexperienced sweetie.”

You

“I- I’m sorry I- Touya was my first boyfriend-“

Enji

“It’s alright, you’re just so pretty I would’ve thought you’d been with more men. You could clearly get anyone you wanted. It’s not a bad thing. I just know to go easier on your little pussy okay? I’ll be extra gentle with you.”

You

“Thank you Enji”

Enji

“Let me do everything. I want to take care of my sweetheart. It’s the least I can do after you cleaning and cooking for me all the time.”

Enji flips you over laying you on your back. He kisses your neck gently as he traces his fingers down your body until they reach your thighs. You close them slightly out of instinct. He forces your legs open. He lifts his leg up slightly pressing his thigh against your leg to hold you open and still. The way he’s taking control is only making you go more dizzy. You can feel yourself getting wetter by the second. Enji can see your pussy leaking onto the sheets. He moved his fingers over to your hole collecting some of your juices on his fingers before rolling circles on your clit. You try to hide your face out of embarrassment of how sensitive he’s making you feel. Enji grabs your chin with his free hand gently instructing you to look up at him.

Enji

“Don’t take your eyes off of me sweetheart. I need to see your pretty little face okay?”

You

“Okay..”

Enji

“Say yes sir for me.”

You

“Y-yes sir. Yes sir, I’ll look at you.”

Enji says in a deep sultry tone

“That’s my good girl. I’m going to take care of your pretty little tight pussy. I want to make you cum..more than once if you can handle it.”

Enji slowly slides a finger into your entrance. It goes in so easily with your wetness. He thrusts a few times before pulling out and adding a second finger. He knows he needs to warm you up to three of his thick digits for you to be able to be even close to taking his cock. He pushes both his fingers knuckles deep inside holding them still while tracing circles around your clit with his thumb. You cant help but pant and moan being drunk off of his touch already. He starts to thrust his fingers in and out of your tight wet pussy. With his free hand he sticks two of his fingers down your throat. He wants to be gentle with you but he also likes seeing his women submissive, at his mercy. He wants to see just how wrapped around his fingers you can be. His eyes darken as you willingly take his fingers down your throat and begin to suck them. He gasps when his fingers are knuckles deep down your throat and you aren’t even gagging. Fuck that was impressive. At the very least he wants to see some tears drip down your face from his fingers down your throat. He slips a third finger in your pussy slowly without warning. You try to moan but it’s muffled by Enji’s fingers. His hardness is growing more and more at how accepting you are of just letting him keep his fingers in your throat. You’re taking him so well in every hole. He can feel you cum on his three fingers. That brings a dark smile to his face and low chuckle out of him. Tears are coming down your face but he can’t tell if it’s from your pussy being stretched too much or from his fingers not releasing from your throat. He removes his fingers from both ends and strokes your hair gently while leaving soft kisses over your face.

Enji

“Are you ready to take me baby? I’ll go really slow sweetheart.”

You

“Yes sir. I’m ready. Please I need you so bad.”

Enji pulls down his pants setting his heavy cock on your body. It reaches your belly button, it’s so thick you couldn’t wrap your hands around it. You thought Touya had the biggest dick you had ever seen but you were greatly mistaken. You can’t believe that monster could even fit inside of anyone but surely it had to after all Touya had to be born somehow. Enji notices you looking nervous. He opens his bedside drawer and grabs a blindfold placing it over your eyes.

Enji

“Here sweetheart. Don’t focus on that now. Be a good girl and just focus on how good it feels. I won’t go all the way in don’t worry.”

God the way he was talking to you so sweetly was making you want him even more. He slowly placed the girthy tip at your entrance. You could feel all his precum god you were happy you were on birth control. You were made for him to fill you. Enji spread you apart slowly. He put in just the first few inches. You screamed, a mix of pleasure and joy. It felt like he was completely ripping you apart. You could hear him chuckle softly. Your screams only turned him on more he loved a little bit of pain but that wasn’t unexpected Touya was the same way. Enji gently traced circles around your clit again as he began to push himself in deeper. The feeling was so over stimulating but you didn’t want him to stop you couldn’t now that you finally had him right where you wanted him. You were squirming slightly from his touches.

Enji

“Shhh hold still. Let me do everything. I know it’s a lot baby I know. You can take it can’t you? You want to be a good girl for me don’t you?”

His grip on your hip tightening to hold you still. His sweet words were sending you over the edge you began to cum all over his thick cock. You screamed and shook. It felt like you were going to break with every clench down on his cock it felt way too big the more you came. But Enji wasn’t done he needed to cum too.

Enji

“Such a good girl I knew I could make you feel good right?”

Enji began to thrust faster. You grew dick drunk beneath him.

Enji

“I’m going to fill you up and you’re going to thank me.”

You tried to say “yes sir” but you were so brain dead underneath him all you could do was babble nonsense. On the plus side you were so overstimulated from cumming you could no longer feel much pain from his girth anymore.

Enji

“Awe my dick made you cum so hard your brain fell out your pretty little head didn’t it? Sweetheart daddy’s gonna cum inside your perfect little cunt now”

You couldn’t think much but you definitely made out the fact that he just referred to himself as “daddy”. You’re starting to notice the similarities between him and Touya even more now. Touya would throw a fit if you forgot to call him daddy every sentence in bed. God it was hot. You loved how dominate it made them feel and how powerless it made you feel. You loved strong men who had their way with you. Enji referring to himself as such made you squirt underneath him as he came inside you. You didn’t think it was possible for someone to cum so much especially a man his age. You were milking him so good.

You

“Thank you sir. Did you like that daddy?”

Enji

“Oh- oh. Tsk tsk you’re so naughty you liked that didn’t you?”

You

“Yea, yes. Daddy fucked me so good I’m gonna be sore tomorrow you’re so thick.”

Enji

“….can daddy make you feel good again? Maybe I can make you feel good quite a bit if you’re okay with that sweetheart..”

You smirk and say

“Mmm I’d like that a lot.”

Enji pulls your panties back up

Enji

“Keep my milk inside you. I want you to stay filled for the rest of the day okay”

You giggle softly at his statement and nod. He pulls you close to his chest with ease. Wrapping his big fingers around your body. His hands practically drown your torso. God he was good at cuddling just as you expected. You never wanted to leave this bed. After a nice hour long cuddle session you both bathe together. Enji is so sweet and gentle with you in the bath. You know the feelings you feel for him are more than lust and he feels the same. He doesn’t know what to make of these feelings. You’re so much younger than him he wouldn’t have expected you to want a real relationship with him but you did.

You both finish the bath and go on with your day.

The next week goes by and you both behave as normal. One day Enji has to work late. Too late to eat dinner. He comes home exhausted not even enough energy for a bath. Only enough strength left to get out of his clothes and lay in bed. You’re feeling needy and knock on the door. He’s too tired to hear. You climb into bed with him and lay your head in his chest. He wraps his arms around you not expecting you to be there.

Enji

“Hi sweetheart sorry I got home late. What’s wrong?”

You

“Nothings wrong I just missed you daddy”

The way you called him “daddy” so effortlessly and naturally sent shivers down his spine. He almost forgot what that was like casually. He made Rei call him “daddy” but he’s been separated from her for a while now he had almost forgotten how good it made him feel.

Enji

“Daddy’s right here sweetheart”

Enji holds you closer and caresses your back gently.

You

“Enji..can I sleep here with you?…everynight?”

Enji

“Everynight? You sure you won’t get tired of me?”

You

“No I could never get tired of you daddy. Ever since that night I can’t stop thinking about you. Not just sexually but I want you to hold me. I want you to want me.”

Enji

“Oh baby..I do want you. I want you so badly. But daddy’s 22 years older than you..I don’t want you to waste your time on me.”

You

“Enji it’s not a waste. Plus you’re related to Touya so it’ll feel like I have a part of him always with me too. I don’t care anymore please I want you.”

He can’t help but admit you’re right. Being with you would also feel like he always has a part or Touya with him as well. That’s not the only reason he wants you though of course.

Enji

“Do you have to be so irresistible sweetheart? I want you alright. I’m..to be honest I’m falling in love with you. I didn’t expect to feel this way after all these years. I don’t deserve you.”

You sush him knowing nothing you say will make him believe he deserves love and happiness after all the trauma he’s caused to his family. You pull him in for a kiss attempting to comfort him in different ways. Enji’s missed kissing you after that night. You both get addicted to the taste of eachother. Enji climbs on top of you slowly. He wants to make love to you. He pulls down both of your pants and sticks his tip at your entrance. He’s too tired to prep you for him tonight but he knows you’ll be wet for him and you are. He shoves himself in slowly. It goes in so much easier than before. He can tell you’ve been practicing with yourself he’s flattered he can tell you’ve been wanting this again. Wanting to be able to take him better. You’re such a good girl for him. He thrusts himself into you balls deep. He puts his hand over your mouth sushing your pretty screams. He’s too sleepy to take his time he needs to come now. He uses his other hand to grab a vibrator from his bedside drawer and places it to your clit on the highest setting. He needs to see you overstimulated and in tears. He needs you to come fast. It’s only a minute before you in a puddle beneath him cumming like crazy. He thrusts faster slapping his balls aginst your ass desperately needing to cum. The way he’s fucking you is primal yet still gentle. He still doesn’t want to be too rough. He fills you with his seed. He pulls you in his chest afterwards. His cuddles are so soft leaving kisses all over your back. You both fall asleep content, happy to finally be with one another.

I might do a part 2/ continuation of this storyline to this but for now this is all I have. 🩶

You can find all of the stories I publish to tumblr about Enji under the hashtag enjiaria

[aphverse-confessions]

I think making Vylad the middle kid of the Ro'meaves actually takes away from their dynamic considerably, especially Zane and his specifically. Also any time I see someone doing that, it's usually to benefit Zane's story in some way, when really, he doesn't need more intrigue than he already has

Vylad in MYS being the one to skip a grade back in Highschool makes sense and I'm tired of people saying it should be Zane that's the overachiever. You're telling me it makes more sense for Zane, who was (let's face it) coddled by Zianna his whole life due to his sickness and eye injury as a kid, to feel like he needs to do well academically and prove himself? Zane doesn't want her doting attention on him, he actively avoids doing anything that would put the spotlight on him in a positive manner. He wants to destroy her view of him so she'll leave him ALONE. I think people genuinely forget about that, because he was such a different person in MCD

While Vylad has been consistently ignored by everyone in his family, ESPECIALLY his parents. As long as he isn't breaking rules, they don't care. Of course he'd want to excel in academics, he wants even a sliver of the attention Garroth or Zane gets on a day to day basis. As much as he may joke around or make comments about how he likes the attention not being on him 24/7, there's still going to be a deep-rooted pain and jealousy that he's considered less than his brothers just for existing.

And also the idea of Garte making Zianna have Zane last as a sort of "fix" for the affair baby that Vylad is.. also doesn't sit right with me? I wouldn't put it past Garte, but just, something about the idea doesn't make sense for everyone's characters except his?

And then in MCD it equally doesn't make sense!! I'm not kidding, it actively takes away from Vylad's character for me. Backstory wise, him being the youngest means he's /expendable/. O'khasis only knows him for his death, they wouldn't care otherwise. Garroth is the heir, Zane's in case anything happens to Garroth, and Vylad- is there, and ultimately pretty ignored

And I know we love Zane, but I've seen a few people make him the youngest in MCD so he could look up to both Garroth AND Vylad but. Not only does Zane, again, not need more intrigue than he already has- but ALSO I think Vylad being the one to look up to both his brothers is objectively more heartbreaking? Imagine looking up to your two older brothers your whole life, growing to know you're worlds apart in importance- both to the world and your parents. Knowing you're just a spare part and a mistake.

And then it takes dying to realize what a bad person one of them is. You can't tell if your resentment and pain is because you're now an unnatural being- still, not meant to exist. Never meant to exist- or because you're right to be angry.

Him being a middle kid that Zane looked up to would mostly take away from all of that, for me anyways

ANYWAYS, this got really long I'm so sorry 🙏 (also if you do make Vylad the middle kid in your rewrite I don't like- hate you or anything, their dynamic just isn't as interesting to me unless you give Vylad some new source of interest)

.

[lacy-oh-lacy]

how about sam or taras reaction to ghostface killing reader? and maybe getting revenge?

'Til Death

Pairing: Sam Carpenter x Reader (& Platonic Tara Carpenter x Reader)

Word Count: 0.7k (pretty short, sorry ♡)

CW: Death, violence, grief, angst, murder, brief sexual reference, you die sorry, graphic language, unhappy ending

Sam was going to Kill Richie.

She was going to tear him open again and again until he couldn't even scream without choking on his own blood.

It didn't matter that she’d been stabbed, it didn't matter that he had the gun. Seeing you fall to ground, gushing blood, she knew she was going to fucking kill him.

"You know, Sam. I'm starting to think I wasn't the only one being a little less than faithful." Richie gestured to your motionless form. "Or are you gonna tell me you haven't been eye-scissoring your galpal over there since we came to Woodsboro?"

"Fuck you!"

She hated the red-hot fury coursing through her. She hated that she’d already made up her mind about this. You’d always told her she was nothing like her dad, but…

She had to make him pay. For what he did to Tara, to her and now to you.

You, the first person she ever opened up to. You, who were so understanding and still said you loved her just as earnestly.

She felt like the biggest idiot in the world for ever thinking you could've been Ghostface.

When she saw you again for the first time in five years she was so mesmerized she almost forgot why she was in Woodsboro. She almost forgot she had a boyfriend too.

You wrapped your arms around her and it was like she was 16 again in one of those fleeting moments where nothing else mattered because she was with you.

Then a bouquet that must have been for Tara grazed her back and she remembered where she was.

"Hey... It's good to see you again, Sam."

"That's a relief..."

A relief she wasn't so sure she was owed.

How you could greet her like that with the history the two of you had -with the bitter way she had brought that history to a close no less- she had no idea, but she clung to you gratefully.

You were as soft and warm as she remembered and all too soon she had to pull back and retreat into herself. You weren't her's anymore, she ruined that. She couldn't let you make her heart flutter like nothing changed. Like she didn't have a boyfriend now.

"It's good to see you too. Or it would be if the circumstances weren't so fucking shitty."

"I know. I can't believe it. Have you spoken to Tara?”

Despite herself, her heart fluttered. You’d always cared so much about Tara, not as an obligation because you were dating her sister, truly cared. It was one of the things Sam liked most about you.

"Yeah, I have... and she mentioned you've been looking out for her since I... went away. Thank you."

You smiled -but it wasn't that bright, disarming smile you had that hit Sam's system like a love potion. Your face struggled against it.

"Yeah. Of course."

So... You did resent Sam a little. She guessed it wasn't fair to expect any different.

Despite that resentment you still visited Tara again the next day. You still saved Sam's boyfriend when Ghostface attacked the hospital-

-except you didn't, because he was never in any real danger... And that was ex boyfriend now.

And now you were lying on the floor, bleeding out and unresponsive because of fucking goddamn Richie.

He was getting cocky. He underestimated how much strength Sam had left in her because she was crawling away, he couldn't see the rage bubbling beneath her fear.

He couldn't have made it easier to get the knife in his neck.

A woman possessed, she stabbed him again and again and again, tearing into his chest until it was more blood than skin.

She couldn't stab him enough for every betrayal, for every way he hurt someone she cared about but she could fucking try.

With nothing but bloody remains left in front of her, profound coldness settled inside Sam. She stared long and hard at what used to be Richie because she knew when she stopped she’d have to look at you. What used to be you.

A piercing gasp came from behind her, Sam’s insides twisted as it turned into sobs.

Tara found you.

It was only when Richie’s body blurred that Sam realized her sister wasn't the only one crying.

Scream Masterlist | Main Masterlist

[riley-writes]

Damaged Goods (Dhawan!Master x GN!Reader)

Hi! It’s been soooo long. Grad school will be the death of me. Enjoy this fic that I wrote instead of studying for an exam I’ll take in less than 36 hours that determines whether I graduate or not. This was more fun though. Please excuse any typos I proofread this once and now I have to go study to prove that I can be a professional at hearing people's worst memories while helping them be okay

Dhawan!Master x GN!Reader

You’ve accepted your fate on a planet you don’t even know the name of after being left behind. The last person you expect to see is your ex-friend’s best enemy.

Notes: So reader is gender neutral but there’s a throwaway line that more aligns with the queer/trans experience, but could probably read as anyone who is an outsider or struggled to feel accepted. Enjoy babes!

Warnings: Reference to torture, brief SI language but no followthrough, angst, abandonment. The works.

This certainly wasn’t the way you’d expected to die. Well, that might not be exactly true. You had expected some kind of trouble that you and the fam got into would end in your demise, but foolishly you’d thought that maybe it would be quick.

This was not quick.

While on some godforsaken planet that you couldn’t remember the name of, the Doctor had managed to piss off another alien race, leading to you all fleeing to the TARDIS under heavy fire. And only you hadn’t made it on time.

At first, you’d been confident that the Doctor would come back and rescue you. But the first day passed, and then the second, and then the third, and then before you knew it, you’d been being tortured for… well, you didn’t know anymore. Hard to keep track when you have no clue how long you’ve been passed out for after getting the shit beaten out of you for not knowing where the Doctor had run off to. 

You weren’t really sure when you’d started resenting her for it–for leaving you behind. She and the fam had taken you in when no one else was there for you, when no one would accept you for who you were. You had no one back on Earth. And now you had no one period. It hurt. To be left behind and forgotten like a toy that had been broken and discarded.

And that’s what you were. Broken. You’d held onto your spirit for so long, but as you heard the barred door down the hall swing open, you realized that you just wanted it all to end. You just couldn’t take it anymore.

You didn’t look up as the door to your cell opened and someone was shoved to the ground, followed by the door slamming shut and locking once more.

“Oh come on boys, it was all in good fun!” said a familiar voice, causing your blood to run cold. You snuck a quick glance, and confirmed– yes, the Master had just been thrown into your cell. Unfortunately, your movement didn’t go unnoticed, and his head snapped in your direction. You quickly diverted your eyes, but the damage was done. You heard him tut and wander towards you, and your entire body tensed. 

“Now what is one of the Doctor’s little pets doing in a place like this? Lost, love?” he asked cruelly. You didn’t respond or look up, still curled in on yourself. He stepped closer and your body got impossibly more tense. Your lack of response encouraged him. “Waiting on your precious Doctor to come and save you?”

You couldn’t help but let out a quiet scoff at that, which egged him on further. “How long has she left you here to rot?” He made an irritated sound when you didn’t respond. “I asked you a ques–,” you saw him reaching for you.

“Don’t touch me!” you shouted, vaulting yourself away from him across the cell. You could feel yourself start to hyperventilate, breaths coming quicker and quicker. Yep, this was it. You were dying. The Master was frozen in place, an unreadable look on his face.

The only sound was your quick breathing. He took a step forward, and you pushed yourself into the corner as far as you could.

“Don’t…” you sobbed, terrified. The Master held his hands up and took another step forward as if he were approaching a wild animal. “Please,” you whispered.” He hesitated.

“I’m not going to hurt you,” he said after a moment. There was some emotion on his face that you couldn’t quite place– though that was reasonable, being that you hadn’t been in contact with anyone that had shown you anything but disgust and anger. Still, you didn’t relax.

“You need to breathe or you’re going to pass out. You humans are pathetic like that, only having one respiratory system,” he said with jest, and you let out a short laugh in shock. He took this as a good sign, because he slowly approached and knelt down next to you. He seemed to not quite know what to do, but settled on a gentle hand on your back as you steadied your breathing.

“Now. I’m going to go destroy every other being on this planet, and then we’ll leave. Consider this my good deed of this regeneration. Can’t be ruining my reputation now, can I?” he said quietly. You looked up in surprise, and were met with an intense gaze. You nodded, throwing your trust to someone who’d never shown you anything but disdain up until this moment. What did you have to lose?

And as you got on the Master’s TARDIS, you couldn’t help but wonder what life had in store for you next.