#sorry anon I know it took me like a month to write this

[todayisafridaynight]

Hey so Snap this is going to be so fucking weird, but honestly don’t care. So I was watching a clip of Drag Race Philippines and it was the make over episode and I think they were making over family members and this father was all about getting into drag. So, I just wanted to tell you never forget how much of a lovely loving kind and caring father you have, who loves you and protects you and makes you feel heard. That’s all.

i'd have to die before i forget how great my dad is thank you for the opportunity to brag about him again anon

[pathologicalreid]

If your down could u write an imagine where reader is new to the bau and Spencer is just coming back from jail and he makes reader nervous and when he notices he starts to mess with her nothing to wild but he teases her every now and again -🖤

drop | S.R.

in which reid seems to be there every time you drop something

who? spencer reid x fem!BAU!reader

category: fluff

content warnings: fluff, lighthearted teasing, clumsiness, obliviousness, reader is mentioned to be shorter than 5'7" (sorry it just worked for the story)

word count: 1.1k

a/n: hey anon! thanks for requesting, i think i may have verged away from the request on accident. also this is the one i posted about earlier that had been deleted by word so i had to rewrite it and therefore it's not very thoroughly proofread. hope you enjoy.

It came as a shock, most people needed to apply to the BAU and even then, they spent years trying to get in. You had gotten a call four months ago and were told you were leaving IOD in the Hoover building and would be expected at the BAU the next morning.

Years ago, you had a run-in with Emily Prentiss while she was heading Interpol in London, but you didn’t think she remembered you – let alone wanted to work with you. She brought you on to the team to help catch Peter Lewis

Now, Peter Lewis was dead, and Spencer Reid had been exonerated. You thought your time with the team was done, but when Emily caught you packing up your things, she told you she had no intentions of sending you back to the International Operation Division.

So, you made yourself comfortable at your desk across from Luke’s, even adding a picture of your family, just to make it seem a little lived-in.

It was something you’d had drilled into your head by your father: if you’re not early, you’re late. That was the reason why you were usually the first to the BAU, only sometimes being beaten by Dr. Reid.

Penelope said he was harmless, but that didn’t change the fact that he made you nervous. Not nervous in the sense that you were scared of him, but nervous in the way that he was something of a legend in the FBI.

Even more so since his recent release from prison.

You felt a sort of disconnect from the team when it came to them trying to get Reid out of prison, whenever Nadie Ramos came up in conversation, you picked up your files on Mr. Scratch and distracted yourself. Of course, you helped where you were needed, but you didn’t know him like they did.

This particular morning, you had beaten him to the office, taking your spot at your desk and flipping through a file you had abandoned in the name of sleep last night. A slight crash made you jump so badly that you fumbled with the papers in an attempt to not drop them. You looked up to see Spencer had dropped his bag on his desk, “Good morning, Y/N.” He greeted you.

Blankly, you stare at him for a moment before giving him a half smile. “Good morning, Dr. Reid,” you responded.

“I told you that you could just call me Reid, or Spencer,” he said, sitting down at his own desk.

Nodding, you found yourself interested in your coffee cup. “Yes, you did,” you took a deep breath. “Good morning, Spencer,” you tried again, offering him a fuller smile.

That seemed to appease him for now because he flipped open his own files and started inspecting them.

As you were preparing for the 10 o’clock debrief, you found yourself in the office kitchenette, pouring a cup of coffee from the pot that had been brewed an indeterminate number of minutes ago. Vaguely aware of the person standing behind you, you turned around to find Spencer, holding his own mug in both hands. “Oh! Hey,” you said, mentally smacking the palm of your hand to your forehead.

You moved out of the way as you added cream to your mug, watching as Spencer poured his coffee and followed it up with an almost equal amount of sugar. As you were about to make your way to the round table room, Spencer spoke, “You know, before 1975 you wouldn’t even have been able to be an FBI agent.”

Furrowing your eyebrows, you stopped in your tracks and turned to face him, “Wait, what? Why?”

“Before 1975 people shorter than 5’7” couldn’t be FBI agents,” He responded plainly, but there was a bit of mischief in his eyes.

You looked at him curiously, warmth flooding your cheeks. You stammered something about being late and rushed to the roundtable room, taking your usual spot next to Luke, and watching what Garcia presented to you—pretending not to notice Spencer across the table from you.

The BAU had been asked to consult on a case, but there were no precincts that had asked the team to make a trip to them. You had finished the paperwork on a recently closed case and got up to bring it to Emily, stuffing the papers in a file folder, you turned around and ran into Spencer. “Sorry!” You squeaked out, dropping to the floor to pick up the papers. To your surprise, he crouched down next to you and helped to pick up the papers. “Oh, jeez, now they’re all out of order,” you moped, setting the papers back down on your desk.

“It was my fault,” Spencer said. The honesty in his voice made your shoulders slouch.

Shaking your head, you smiled at him, “It’s okay, Spencer. They’re just papers.”

He looked at you like there was something more he wanted to say, but he didn’t, he just turned from your desk and walked out of the bullpen, leaving you staring.

When you finally brought your papers to Emily, she asked you to close the door behind you. Patiently, you stood in her office while she added your file to the menacing pile she kept on her desk. “I’ve been meaning to ask how you’re doing. With the BAU, I mean,” she told you, leaning over her desk.

“Good, I think. I’ve gotten very few complaints so far,” you told her, unable to help the uneasiness you felt. Had someone said something?

Emily nodded, her dark hair shining with the movement, “Good, I haven’t heard anything negative about you at all. Which is actually uncommon for the BAU.”

You let the rest of the day pass, but as the team trickled out of the bullpen, only you, Emily, and Spencer were left.

At the sound of rustling, you looked over to see that Spencer was packing up his things and putting them into his familiar leather bag. Resting your cheek on your hand, you went back to your case file, marking thoughts in the margins.

Jumping when something hit your desk, making the metal rattle, you dropped your pen on the ground. Peering up to see Spencer giving you a lopsided smile before he bent down to pick up your pen, “Hey, at least you didn’t drop a bunch of papers again.”

You flushed as your eyes followed him out the glass doors of the BAU, turning around to see Emily watching on, leaning on the railing outside her office, looking between you and Spencer as if she knew something you didn’t.

[gutterfuuck]

Can I request a mark drabble w/ breeding kink 👉👈 I'd love either bff mark or sinister mark but if you go the sinister route can I be a bit of a coward and ask that he be a little. Softer. Maybe specifically for the reader bc I am a little pansy and I get unrealistically offended when I'm condescended or treated like property, and while it would be hot if this man talked down to me I would also be inclined to punch him in the baby maker and then we'd all suffer bc no smut would ensue 😭

Sorry, I just dumped a bit of unwarranted baggage on u there but you come off as really sweet in all your posts so I hope it didn't bother you too much! Thank you for all of your posts btw your writing is delicious! Also your English is very good, you have a great grasp of the language and I respect and appreciate all the effort you must put into making all of your writing so articulate. English especially is said to be very hard to learn so I immensely respect the effort that goes into it, regardless of any/how much help you require/accept to do so. Manifesting a mild inconvenience to that anon a while back who accused you of faking for some reason I hope they step on a wet kitchen tile while wearing socks or something and rethink how they choose to speak to people online. 😊♡

hello anon!! thank you so much for your considerations, maybe it is because i am emotional since i get very choked up when it is birthday season but this had made me cry happy tears 😭😭 also, i agree!! if anyone was to talk to me like i am disposable in real life, i think that i would break down and disintegrate haha!! it is not cowardly to ask for things, do not be swayed!! baggage is never unwanted here, i am the baggage 😂!! i will do the upmost of my best ability, as i have been waiting to write for s!mark again 🤭🤭 also, i do agree people should be more mindful about what they say to others! you never know what anyone is going through, just because you can hide behind a screen mask doesn’t mean you should or can be mean to people!! i do not judge those who do though, they will learn as months and years pass, people do learn and change!!

cw: mdni, smut, breeding kink, just a little drable to warm up my fingers hehe!! minor injury, reader patches him up

you could hear your husband come crashing through the juliet balcony of your bedroom, bumping into the bed and waking you up fully. you bolted up, scanning the darkness of the room and staring at the silhouette of your lover, crouched over in the shadows. “mark?” you peep, eyes still adjusting as you clicked on the bedside lamp, your eyes instantly closing when the brightness took you by surprise.

he looks back at you, pulling his mask with its flimsy broken black goggles off of his face and discarding it to the floor with a heavy sigh. mark always found it so cute how you’d gasp with your hands flying to cover your mouth when he returned with an injury, your worried eyes looking him over as you jump out from under the covers, hands flying up to cover his cheeks and observe his cut nose bridge, one of his eyes squinted due to the budding bruise on his upper cheekbone, “gonna nurse me back to health, baby?” he asks, smiling down at you and placing a kiss to your forehead. he listens to you lecture him about being careful when visiting other planets, rolling his eyes like he’d really just die like that. you knew he was tough, but it didn’t hurt to be concerned.

he sits on the side of the bathtub in the bathroom, tilting his face to the side so you could rub his injuries down with antiseptic solution, mumbling something about how he was still half human so he still had to be a little careful. he didn’t know how many times he’d had to tell you that even though he was still half human everything else was 100% brutal alien. each time he told you, you ignored it. maybe you liked patching him up, placing cute bandages on his face to stop his bleeding. he was hardly injured but he’d be damned if he didn’t let his cute little wife dote on him like this, the sleeves of your fluffy gown he’d bought home for you rolled up your arms as you fiddle with the first aid kit.

“y’know what’d me me feel better?” mark says, taking your hands into his. god, he could just crush you right now, you were so adorable. you hum in response, intertwining your fingers with his as he brings them to his lips, trailing kisses up your arm and pulling you closer, inching towards you slowly. your mouth hangs open with a breathless silent mewl as his lips stop just by your jawline, finding it hard to hold himself back from nipping your skin and marking you up. you nod at his earlier question which draws a chuckle from him, hands moving down to grip your hips and pull you onto his lap, “let’s go to bed, then.”

you’ve got your face in the crook of his neck, holding onto his back as he pistoned his hips in and out of your tight heat, never being shameful of your moans. music to his ears, he thought, letting you cry out so desperately into the night. if you had neighbours you’re sure they’d complain. he groaned when he felt you clench around him, muscled thighs stuttering for a moment as you suffocated his cock within your walls. “oh, babygirl-“ he tilts his head back, holding you firmly as your legs wrap around his waist, practically bouncing you up and down on his dick himself, “m-mark..-!” you squeal, voice raspy and throat dry when you feel him buck up into your g-spot, weeping head poking at it repeatedly, trying to pull your orgasm out of you. you whine loudly, holding onto him like you’d fall apart if you let go.

“shhh, s’okay, hold onto me like that, there we go.” mark comforts you, such a strange comparison from when he’s out causing mayhem to now. if those who opposed him were to see him right now, they’d think he’d be a different person. he was so soft with you, treated you like you were made of porcelain and you loved it. you were glad that you’d somehow tamed him in a way, molded him into your perfect husband as he made you into his perfect wife. domestic bliss.

you stifle your noises with his shoulder, softly biting on it as he snapped his hips up into yours vigorously, his own orgasm approaching hard and fast. you could feel the way his cock throbbed inside of you, the way he slowed his hips a little before trying to keep up his pace. “so tight, always so perfect n’ tight f’me, aren’t you?” you nod brainlessly into his shoulder and he coos at you, eyebrows furrowed together as he gasps lightly.

“i’m gonna cum, princess.” he says breathlessly, humping against you for his own orgasm, “inside…” you whisper to him and he almost loses it right there, almost falls over when he thinks about the implications it might have. “inside? yeah-fuck, gonna let me cum inside, just for me?” mark pants, pussydrunk figure caging you in under him as he chases his orgasm, “gimme a kid… f-fuck, gimme a baby, wanna make you a mama… g’na look so perfect— fuh-uck..!” he babbles, vision blanking as he cums inside of you, wave after wave of his warm seed spilling into your cunt, seeping into your womb. he canted his hips a few more times, almost fucking himself into overstimulation as he continued talking, “..gonna give me a mini me, huh? complete our little family?” he asks as you nod in agreement, too fucked out to even process what he’d said to you just now.

[katiascraft]

so i thought like reader being williams social media manager and she is also Francos ex girlfriend. And now Franco is coming into f1 and they see each other again? I don’t know if it makes sense hut yeah. Maybe you like the idea. Love your stuff💗

Hey sweetie 💌 ooooooh I love the idea! I love drama and second chances! Hope you like it. Thank you so much for your request! You are the first to do so. And so I wanted to let you know you made me so happy today :3 (sorry if it took a while but better late than ever! And I hope you have a wonderful day as well 🩵)

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“But we were something, don’t you think so? And if my wishes came true it would’ve been you” | FC43

Parings: Franco Colapinto x WilliamsRancingEmployee!Reader.

Summary: Franco and you broke up a while ago. You didn’t expect to see him ever again until he starts driving in F1 for Williams Racing Team.

Now playing: “The 1” by Taylor Swift.

Word count: +2,4k.

Warnings: a little angst? And fluff. Not a native English speaker so there could be errors. Not proofread.

Author’s note: thank you anon for your request again! First time writing about Fran - maybe I could get used to this. Don’t forget to like or reblog! And follow me so we can be friends :3 (and drink mate together!)

MASTERLIST

You were trying to not lose your umbrella because of the wind. It was raining pretty heavily. England was never a city where happy spirits lived. The sky it’s pretty much sad and depressed most days of the year. But you loved it. You loved feeling melancholy. Remembering your past with a smile or tears.

You had something of not overcoming the past pretty fast. It’s really hard for you to let go and deal with deadlines.

You got finally to the bus stop where a ceiling was now protecting you a little from the water. You were heading for the Williams Racing factory where you’ve worked for a few years now. You were the social media manager at Williams. And you had a meeting with the marketing department.

These last few months were really hard on you. And the reason was just one single person. And that was Franco.

You and Franco dated for two years back when he got in F4. You were teenagers. But still he was the guy who made you feel all the butterflies for the first time. The relationship didn’t end pretty well. You didn’t wanna end it but he told you that he had already made his decision. He needed to be focused to be able to jump to F1 and your romance to him was a distraction. That hurt you so much. And it still hurts thinking about it.

You heart stoped for a second when you saw a guy walking towards your same bus stop - you thought it was Franco because he takes the bus to work just like he always did since you two met. But it wasn’t. Though the guy from afar looked a lot like him. You calmed yourself down.

You job got pretty tricky since Franco jumped finally into F1. You were so happy for him. You wanted to talk to him and tell him how proud of him you were but you couldn’t. You were supposed to hate each other. Working with him was a challenge. You just decided to pretend you didn’t even know who he was and treat him as you treated Alex or Logan before. Even though your heart raced so fast by just looking at him, talk to other people.

First time you saw him was back in august when James announced a new driver was chosen to replace Logan. You loved Logan. Such a great guy. But you understood this was also a business and money is top priority. And Williams isn’t a team with many economic resources so each penny counted. James did an introduction to him a day before the race. He said hi to everyone. When you two saw each other just shook hands. You couldn’t even look at him. When you were back home you had a breakdown and needed to call your therapist because you don’t know how the fuck you were be able to deal him every single day. And even post about him most of the time because for your unlucky luck people became obsessed with him. Everybody loved Franco. And you understood why: he was the most charming and handsome boy you have ever met. And he didn’t change a bit after one year of not seeing him - you thought - forever.

Finally you took the bus. You were gonna be late so you texted your co-worker Amanda to let her know it. You sat on the only free seat that there was.

You were preoccupied in revising everything you had to stay and show in your meeting you didn’t realize the guy sitting next to you was actually franco.

After an awkward silence Franco broke the ice “hey… buenos días” he said with a raspy voice. He was nervous. Not sure if you were okay if he even opened his mouth.

You felt colder than the weather when you heard him. You looked at him to check you weren’t dreaming and indeed you weren’t. You give him a little smile. “Oh hi fran” that’s how you used to call him. Your heart sank a bit. “Good morning. Sorry I didn’t see you. I have a reunion and didn’t want to forget anything. You have a workout today?” You just decided to talk to him. A little chat wouldn’t kill you. And you hated pretending you didn’t know him. He smelled just the same. The same perfume. He had his mate bag with him and a boca juniors gym bag. Just as how you remembered him. You licked your lips nervously.

He nodded shyly and you saw his cheeks turning red for some reason. “Yeah I have gym today. And everything’s gonna be fine at the meeting. You always explain yourself perfectly” he said, sending you a sweet smile. His voice was deep and raspy. You knew he was still a little sleepy knowing it was almost 8am. You smiled back at him.

“Thank you” you said sweetly. Another weird silence took place between you two. You didn’t know what to say. You just looked around.

“Are you still mad at me y/n?” He said out of nowhere. The words just jumped out of his mouth. He was still hunted by what happened between you two. You looked at him again, giving him a sad look. You denied it with your head.

“No I'm not… I’m just sad. We were something right? But you know. It was hard to let you go but yeah…” you hesitated in what you could tell him. You didn’t even know what you were feeling right now. He stared at you a few seconds and nodded looking down. He started playing with his fingers.

“Maybe we could talk about all of this when you finish your meeting? I really think we should talk. I… I don’t like when you pretend you don’t know me… like we never knew each other you know? I feel really guilty about it. And… I’m proud of where you are now. It was your dream and you made it. And you’re really good at it. You give fans what they need” he said shyly and sad? He was working hard to show he can be an F1 driver. That he deserves a seat. But also he was really sad because he since decided to end things with you. He already regretted it.

Yes, he was more focused but he didn’t have your support. He isn’t into physical touch but your hugs were his favorites. He would let you touch him forever. He felt empty and really lonely. Even his family had to deal with the grief of not having you around anymore.

Yes, it was worth it for a while when he had James tell him he was gonna drive an F1 car for the end of the season. But when he saw you standing there. More beautiful than he has ever seen you. You looked so happy and profesional. So beautiful. And bright. He hated himself right there. Because you'd have done it together if he wouldn’t have been so selfish. He didn’t think he was in love with you when you broke up. But as the time passed he felt miserable. Getting home and seeing no one. No music. No you playing sims and showing him the sims you created while he was gone. No cooking cookies for tea time or ‘merienda’ how it is called in Argentina. Anyone to share mates with or talk about the day. No one to cuddle on the sofa or to forget about everything in bed. No one to go out and eat dinner. Or day trips to London. There was nothing left.

He was an asshole to you. And he really hated himself for that.

You couldn’t keep on talking because the bus was really where you needed to be. You both got down the bus in silence. And just walked side by side into the Williams factory announcing yourselves at the gate.

You were thinking about his offer. Like you needed it but at the same time you were scared. But you decided to follow your heart.

“See you after the meeting then?” You said when he opened the door of the factory for you. His sad look turned into a very smiley one. He nodded.

“Yeah yeah. I’ll be waiting for you at the cafeteria. Is that okay?” He said walking behind you because you were running late for the meeting. You turned to him a little.

“Sounds good to me Fran. See you in a bit” you said in a smile but feeling really weird at the same time. You didn’t know if that chat was gonna be the end of you or the relief you just needed. You didn’t know. But you knew you couldn’t keep going the way you two were.

You disappeared from Franco's view while you ran up the stairs to the office where the meeting was being held. He just stared there for a few seconds wondering. He didn’t know if talking was the best move but he felt better after you said yes. And he realized how bad he missed hearing you call him Fran. He got into the gym. Everyone was already there so he didn’t have time to keep thinking about you. Now it was time for a great workout. And a pretty intense one.

(…)

You got out of the office 2 hours later. It was intense. You had a headache now and you needed some coffee. You were regretting deciding to meet Franco but it is what it is. Maybe could it be relaxing? You didn’t believe yourself. But you were sure you just had to give him another chance and maybe be friends.

You walked down the stairs and headed to the cafeteria. When you got there you could see Franco sitting alone at one of the tables. There wasn’t anyone. It was just you and Franco and the women at the kitchen. You smiled. You were a little bit more relaxed knowing it was kind of private. First you headed into the kitchen and asked for a coffee. You knew Franco didn’t want one because you saw him drinking mate. The woman handed the coffee politely to you and you thanked her with a sweet smile “have a good rest of the day Amelia” you told her sweetly grabbing your coffee and now walking towards franco.

He saw you and gave you a bright smile. “Hey” he said, moving his stuff so you could sit with him at the table and have space for your coffee and things. He was reading some papers that were given to him by one of the engineers back in the simulator.

You smiled looking at him. He had showered and smelled incredibly good. And he looked so gorgeous by the sunlight that was coming in from the window. “Hey did I make you wait too long?” You said sitting down and getting comfy.

“No no I got here like 30 minutes ago” he said softly and sweetly. You looked so beautiful in your formal outfit. Though he remembered being crazy about you when you wore pajamas. You looked so cute. He missed you. Like crazy.

“Oh okay. Thank you for waiting for me” you thanked him and took a sip of your coffee. And he did the same with his mate.

“So… how are you? How’s your life been?” You said to start talking and leave the uncomfortness of the situation behind and just chill out and be okay with this. Or at least you wished that but you were a bit anxious of this conversation taking place.

“Well… to be fair it just depends on which aspect of my life you ask. In my driving life everything’s been great. Better than I could ever have expected. In my personal life to be honest I’ve been miserable” he said, giggling a little at the last part of his answer. You smiled sadly looking at him.

“Well maybe we aren’t so different. I’ve been miserable too personally. And at work gray. Better than ever. But you know a guy I used to date decided to fuck my life up by just being selfish so yeah - life’s shit” you really didn’t want to go there so fast but you just couldn’t control yourself. You’re still hurt. And you needed to be vocal about it. You deserve it. You could see he got nervous and readjusted himself on his chair.

“Oh yeah I think I remember him. He was an asshole to you. Then he felt empty and guilty and lonely and got depressed. But you know he deserved it for being such an idiot. I wouldn’t have let you go if I were him. You are in fact an incredible woman with the worst sense of humor I’ve ever met. And by worst I mean best.” He said talking in third person funny. You couldn’t help but laugh a little. You looked at him nodding.

“Yeah he was a selfish asshole but we can also agree maybe that he looks gorgeous now. If he has another girl then I would be really jealous. He is really a sweetheart. And a professional clown. Very funny. He should do stand up” you followed his way of navigating all of this mess you two created. He laughed and your heart melted. You loved making him laugh. Your heart started racing and butterflies reappeared in your stomach. You felt dumb.

“Oh no he is pretty ugly in my opinion. You were too much for him but like positively. You are fucking sexy and he is just a dude” he said raising his shoulders quirky and funny. You got so flustered.

“Well maybe you're right. I’m not gonna deny I’m on top level” you said joking giggling. He smiled wildly. There you were again. The you he was madly in love with. And the he was. The guy who made you laugh until you cried. The one who made you so happy.

It would’ve been fun if he would’ve been the one. Or maybe does he still have a chance?

“Look y/n I’m really sorry. I really am. I know that saying sorry doesn’t fix anything but I would really love it if we could be friendly and try to figure this out on good terms?” He said more seriously and you nodded agreeing.

“Yeah we can try. Everyone deserves a second chance right?”you told him. You had mixed feelings about it but you knew that maybe this was the best you could do. Try to make things easier between you two will also be beneficial for your work.

“Alright” he said with the biggest smile you saw him having since you saw him again. “You want some?” He asked, offering you mate and you just nodded, smiling at him and agreeing.

Just like the old days.

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Hope you liked it 💌 if you have anymore ideas my inbox is open so send your requests!

[phntmeii]

Hil

Im not sure if your taking requests for writing, but if you are I was wondering if you could do a slashers × S/O who is very strong but doesn't look it?

If that makes sense...

Like the S/O is very sweet, short and small, like she looks petite and fragile but it turns out she can easily lift extremely heavy things, or can punch really hard.

Like even harder or stronger than the slasher.

If you could specifically add Bo Sinclair, Vincent Sinclair, (NBC) Hannibal and Will, and maybe Thomas Hetwit?

Sorry I don't know if that's too much to ask for, I just love your writing so much!

Being Stronger than Slashers .

[ SFW + Fem Terms]

Pairings: Bo Sinclair, Vincent Sinclair, Hannibal Lecter, Will Graham, Thomas Hewitt x petite!strong!Reader General Warnings: Descriptions of Gore/Blood, Violence, Slightly OOC, Descriptions of panic attack/episode, Manipulative behavior mention

A/N: ty anon for request <33 Back to slashers :) Sad I haven’t posted more of them literally in Halloween month but I’m working on it (last second lol) </33

Bo Sinclair

Absolutely turned on to the fucking max when he sees your strength.

Small, sweet partners was always his type. He just loves fulfilling the typical male stereotype of being a protector over his partner.

When he turned the corner, looking to finish off the last victim of the lot within his abandoned town, only to see something better.

He watched as you effortlessly were carrying the body of the victim over your shoulder like it was nothing. Head completely caved in, more of a mass of flesh and blood than an identifiable person. Your other hand held a bloodied hammer.

Bo was completely still, but not of fear. He was standing there like a man who had completely re-fallen in love again.

His eyes were shining as his grin grew wide. Approaching, he was nothing but prideful.

His voice was light with a chuckle, thumb brushing away the blood on your cheek. “Shit, sweetheart… Never knew a pretty girl like you was so… strong. I love it.”

Vincent Sinclair

Vincent was overprotective a lot of the time. He was insistent you were never near his work nor would you be involved when victims were in town.

He loved you too much to have you a part of him and his brothers’ work.

Vincent was slightly startled, hearing the door of his studio open. He knew both his brothers were out.

Seeing it was you, he approached, silently looking down at you. You could tell there was an air of disappointment at you being in his studio when he didn’t want you to be.

A ragged, strained voice spoke from behind his mask, “Why?”

With a shrug of your shoulders and a smile, you walked past him, further into the studio. “Bo said he needed a box in here.”

Watching you walk past, his eyes were hidden but widened as he watched you easily lift up a heavy table to look under it, scrolling past the items underneath it.

He approached confused but didn’t stop you. “Oh! Here it is!” Your arms held up a filled box of tools and parts.

Vincent followed you around curiously for the rest of the day like a shadow. He was completely fascinated by your strength, wanting to see it again.

Once you returned from helping Bo, Vincent couldn't let go of you. He kept his arms around you, head on your shoulder. His quiet, strained voice simply said, "Show me again... Please?"

Hannibal Lecter

Hannibal always held an air of curiosity about you. Your sweet nature was like an untainted part of his life. A woman so far from himself.

Hannibal’s curiosity was never-ending. He took advantage of his intelligence to learn as much as he could. Stalking, Manipulative behaviors in “therapy”, etc.

You were almost always at his place. He liked it better that way although it provided some maintenance when it came to his extracurricular activities.

Hannibal had been making another of his fancy dinners for the two of you. The presentation had to be precise and perfect. Presentation was half the work for him.

He absentmindedly spoke while you were cutting vegetables beside him, “I have not set the chairs. I will do so in a moment, my love.”

Immediately, you wanted to assist. You always liked helping out. “I’ve got it!”

Watching you walk away, he expected to finish his current task before going off to assist you. Instead, he looked up to the doorway to see you easily walking past with a heavy wooden chair in each hand, easily carrying the two like they were just a stack of papers.

A small smirk curled at his lips as his hands slowed in their work. He whispered to himself, knowing his eager curiosity was not wasted, “You are… a delight, my love. You will make for something truly wonderful.”

Will Graham

Will was someone who was vigilant and aware. His mind always raced a million miles an hour with tiny observations and connections.

There was something about you but he just couldn’t place it.

But, what was there to prove? You were sweet and kind, seeming so far from what he knew. That was part of why he held love for you—You weren’t him.

Will was in his head again, silently panicked by his own mind. It was torturous to live in a prison of his own violent thoughts.

You were someone who always noticed. Always could pick up when these episodes started.

Holding his hands and speaking sweetly to him to draw him back to reality, unfortunately, wasn’t working this time.

His eyes kept darting back and forth while his breath quickened. With him standing still, quivering, you had to make the choice.

With simple ease, you picked Will up bridal style, walking away with him.

It took him a moment to realize what happened, breaking out of being inside his head. His eyes just stared at you when he was placed onto his bed, sweat drenching his forehead.

He broke out into a small smile, absentmindedly licking his lips, as was his habit. "I... didn't know you could do that."

"Is it a bad thing?"

"No. It's... really attractive, actually."

Thomas Hewitt

Tommy was always a protector. Toward his family, it was evident. A given. Toward you, it was an inherent need.

The last thing he'd ever want is for you to be hurt, especially when victims come around.

He would lead you and Luda Mae into a room, having you two barricade it while him and Hoyt took care of the unfortunate victims who made their way to the wrong home.

You waited, albeit anxiously. And it only grew once you heard a loud thud followed by Hoyt's yelling.

"Goddammit, Tommy! The fuck are you doin'?"

Immediately you knew something went wrong. Despite Luda Mae trying to keep you in the room, you ripped away the makeshift barricade on the door and rushed out.

Tommy was on all fours, holding the side of his head. A man, you assumed one of the few victims, held a hammer in his hand. He quivered holding it, as if horrified by his own self-defense.

Without thinking, you grabbed the nearest chair, pulling back and cracking it hard against the man. Aimed for his head, he dropped to the floor unconscious by the impact.

You rushed over to Tommy's side, panicked. "Tommy! Tommy! God- Are you okay?"

His arm just instinctively shot out and held you to his body, protecting you in his mind. He opened his eyes and looked past you to see the victim with broken wooden pieces of the chair on top of him.

With his mask on, his expression was hidden. But inside, his heart warmed at how you were strong enough to protect him too. His own protector.

[jazzyoranges]

Late nights - drabble

Tara Carpenter x fem!reader

Summary: sorry anon, i accidentally deleted the request 😓 but they asked for me to write a fic with tara in fem!reader’s hoodie (aka cuddly tara strikes again)

Words: 0.9k

A/n: hopefully a lil something to get me out of my writing slump. let’s hope this isn’t too bad considering i haven’t written in a few months 😅

You really didn’t mean to be out for so long

First your boss asks you to do one favor, then another, and next thing you know you’re at work for 4 hours more than you’re supposed to be. The asshole didn’t even pay you for all the extra shit you did! You made a mental note to go job hunting this week.

Maybe the gay club was looking for a stripper? Nah. Your girlfriend would get jealous

So you were angry. Angry about your paycheck

Next a few storm clouds roll up that night. Of course you forget to bring your rain jacket that day. Not to mention, rain feels like hail stones when you’re on your motorcycle. Apparently it’d be a cold day in hell before you dressed right for the weather

So along with being angry, you were cold and wet. Shitty might’ve been the lightest way you could’ve described your day

At least you could come home to your wonderful girlfriend in an apartment of your own. It took lots of convincing and hundreds of game nights to convince Sam to even accept the idea of you and Tara being alone together. Fortunately you were blessed with patience and homosexuality — two things that could withstand Sam’s will to protect her sister

Was the older Carpenter’s place on the floor right above you and Tara’s?

…

Yes. Yes it was.

But if it made your girlfriend and her sister happy, you had no reason to not be as well. Other than the elevator that never fucking worked but that was out of their hands

Your shirt and hair were absolutely soaked in rainwater by the time you reached your apartment door. The was a small trail of water behind you from where you walked but that might’ve been the least of your concerns. Fishing around in your damp pants for your keys, you fortunately find them without much effort

Opening the door with as little energy you can, you lock the door behind you and triple check you locked it just like Sam told you

Not wasting any time you slide off your wet shirt in the middle of your living room, throwing it on a chair and missing the younger Carpenter waiting on the couch for you half asleep

“Baby?” Tara rubs her eyes. You stand in the middle of your hallway like a deer in headlights. You were awfully vulnerable while wet and almost naked. Who knew.

Before you can respond, there’s shuffling behind you then something weighted and warm on your back. Tara’s leaning into you with her arms around your torso while you’re wet and almost naked in the middle of your hallway. What a sight.

“Why were you so late? You’re working tonight…” Your girlfriend’s hand dips a bit below your waistband and you have to resist the urge to shiver. From the cold? From Tara? Only god knew

“My boss had me do extra shit. I’ll find a different job that doesn’t have me out so late” You turn around to face Tara while her arms were still around you “I promise”

The younger Carpenter only hums into your chest without any sign of moving. So you don’t. It gives you the chance to really soak in the moment along with the rainwater on your skin. You only pull away when your girlfriend also starts to shiver

Of course she’s wearing nothing but a hoodie

Specifically, Tara’s wearing nothing but your hoodie

“How long have you been fighting sleep? Go to bed, love” You pick up your girlfriend with her legs wrapped around your waist and her arms loosely thrown around your neck

“Since you decided you hated me” Tara mumbles into your shoulder

“When was that?”

“When you didn’t come home on time”

“And I gave you a reason why I was late”

“Which doesn’t excuse you, because you could’ve hurried up” Tara plays with your bra strap as you stop walking toward your shared bedroom

“What I’m hearing is, you don’t want to take a late night shower with me? Even after a long day of work, where you could help me de-stress?” You say with a certain smugness in your voice

Your girlfriend whips her head up at your offer but you’ve already made it to your shared bed, not wasting a second to plop her down

“Waitbabypleaseididn’tmeanit-“ You’re already in the bathroom as Tara’s trying to scramble to you

“What? Sorry, love! Can’t hear you over the shower”

You had a childhood cat that always followed you around when you were younger. Tara reminded you of when your cat would scratch at the door whenever you went to the bathroom. Your girlfriend even had the scratching down just like your cat

When you were about to hop in the bath for a quick shower, something stops you from getting in. The imagery alone that Tara is probably leaning against the door waiting for you to get out is enough to pull at your heartstrings

You weren’t mean. You missed Tara as much as she missed you. It’s why she always wore your hoodies and you always took her shirts that fit you

So against your better judgment and the water bill you’re going to have to take Advil for, you unlock the bathroom door but you don’t open it

You’re both in the shower and you’re in Tara less than a second later

[n30nwrites]

hiya neon <3

How you been ? ໒꒰ྀི ˶• ༝ •˶ ꒱ྀི১₊˚⊹♡

hope you're having a good day ~ ฅ^•ﻌ•^ฅ

Anyways, can you write something fluffy about poly!141 and male reader

Just...cuddle piles bro...hhfjsjsk

-- 🪸anon

Like Real People Do (Poly!141 x Male Reader)

Sorry this wasn't long, a lot has happened in my life lol.

I've been okay, everything is turning up.

I debated on doing more but if It did it would've turned to angst so.

You were always tired, work didn't have to be stressful and you would still be tired. You think it had to do with interacting people, just talking could make you tired.

The only thing that could make it better, were the people that greeted you at your home.

Gaz is cooking. The smell swallows you and your stomach turns, growling for the food. You can tell its Gaz simply because of the smell of seasoning, something you were still helping the other three boys on. Soap and Ghost either did Microwavable dinners or take out, and Price thought that the only seasoning he should use is salt and pepper.

He's such an old man.

Your knees ached, as did your ankles and back. It was usually hurting, but you never got it checked out, didn't consider it important too.

The solo mission lasted 3 months, you know they had each other for company and some part of you questioned if they really needed you. If they could last without you for 3 months, what's the rest of their life?

Then Soap opens the door and grabs you like his life depends on it, and all that doubt disappears. He holds you, his arms wrapped around tight and your bag of items drops to reciprocate the hug. He feels like home.

They are home.

You attempt to let go and take a step forward but he still holds on, and you kind of just awkwardly shuffle into the door.

Ghost calls out your name and announces you're home. Price comes through the door wearing your favorite pair of sweatpants (that looked so good on him) and a tanktop, Ghost is in similar wear, and you could take a guest that they just stayed home all day.

"Soap you gotta let him go at one point." Soap is buried in your chest, pushing himself further so his words come out mumbled. "What is Gaz cooking?"

"How do you know it's Gaz cooking?" Price asks.

"Cause I can smell how good it is, you left the window open." You tell him which causes Ghost to go over and shut it, locking it as well.

"He's making some rogan josh-"

"Oh god..." You moaned, most of the food you ate was dry crackers (that tasted like cardboard) and some bad lasagna. You had always loved food, that was one downfall to being the governments rat. "God I'm starving."

"Thankfully you're home just in time." Gaz comes in wearing the stupid apron you got him, it's pink and frilly, a stupid gift because that was just the tradition on Christmas. Soap had gotten you a shirt that said 'Don't Bully Me I'll Cum :(' on it, which unironically became your favorite. You got Simon a shirt that said 'I Identify as an American Patriot and this is my Pride Flag' which the Brit hated but everyone else had a great time.

"Tell me you have naan."

He did

----

You ate like you hadn't before, the dinner was delicious and it brought you all to the bedroom to rest like never before.

You laid against the pillows set up on the wall, Gaz was laying in between your legs and on your chest, Price was laying on your right side, his head resting on your shoulder as Ghost laid on the opposite with Soap on top of him, though with the way Soap was laying, he was on top of everyone. Soap was holding your hand as you rested your head on Ghost, the tv is playing a show called The Maid, it was interesting so far, you were going in and out of focus on it, more focus on your boyfriends next to you.

Eventually husbands, hopefully.

You took a glance to the side where the bedtable sat. You each got a drawer for your stuff, and in yours were five rings that took 5 paychecks to get. You were just waiting.

There would be a right time.

Soap's loud snores fill the air, and you laugh a little at how sudden it is, as does Ghost. The bed was crowded but none of you cared, it was perfect.

They were perfect.

"I love you guys." You mumble, and Price leans over to you, causing you to turn your head and kisses you. It's soft, not leading to anything and it's not holding expectations, it's warm and soft and everything to you. And when he stops, you just smile, because this was it.

[scary-grace]

the boy anon spooky prompt here and it would be very cool to see it reader x shigaraki if possible. I just really like the way you write it and i think it would be interesting.

Hi! Thank you so much for the prompt! I had to go check out the movie for this one, and I agree -- it was really interesting to write! I hope you enjoy this take on it. Happy Halloween! (dividers by @cafekitsune)

d-o-l-l-h-o-u-s-e

You need a job and a place to hide. The Shimuras need a nanny for their five-year-old son Tenko while they take a three-month trip abroad. It's a match made in heaven -- or it would be, if it wasn't for the fact that Tenko's been dead for seventeen years, and they want you to look after a doll that looks just like him. It wouldn't take much for you to be convinced that the doll's haunted by Shimura Tenko himself. And it is haunted. Just not the way you thought. (cross-posted to Ao3)

You’ve been on and off apprehensive since you stepped off the train at Kurouzu station, and more on-apprehensive than off since the directions you printed off pointed you straight out of town, but when you actually reach the address you’re aiming for, the nerves kick into high gear. This is the Shimura family’s estate, all right. The address is right, and so is the sign. And you know the Shimuras have money, or else they wouldn’t be able to afford paying a broke twentysomething to live in their house and watch their son – but still, you weren’t expecting their house to be this huge.

It feels iffy. Is it actually iffy? Or do you just want it to be iffy because you’re into self-sabotaging and you’re nervous about babysitting a five-year-old for three months? Whether it’s iffy or not, you still need money. And somewhere to stay. And you made a promise. You take a deep breathe, then ring the doorbell.

The door opens so fast that it gives you whiplash, and you find yourself staring up at a tall, dark-haired man with fine features and a mouth that’s primed to frown. “Mr. Shimura?”

“Yes. You’re late.”

“I’m – sorry?” You stumble on the words. “I thought I was – just a few minutes –”

“You’re fine, sweetheart.” A pretty, brown-haired woman appears over Mr. Shimura’s shoulder, a nervous, strained smile on her face. “Kotaro’s just a little anxious. It’s been years since we took a trip, and he’s still a little worried that something’s going to go wrong.”

“Yes,” Mr. Shimura agrees. There’s a pause. “Come inside. Tenko is quite anxious to meet you.”

Right. The kid. You put on a smile. “I’m excited to meet him too.”

The Shimuras’ house is pretty on the outside, fancy on the inside – but dark. All the curtains are drawn, and the lights aren’t bright enough to compete with shadows. It doesn’t look like the kind of house that a five-year-old lives in. You don’t know a lot of people with five-year-olds, but you’re pretty sure that five-year-olds are messier than this. There should be toys around. Or kids’ books. There should be brighter colors, better lights, maybe an open window or two. It can’t be good for Tenko to have things this dark.

What do you know? You’re not a parent. Then again, you’ll be the one responsible for Tenko for the next three months, so maybe you can make a few changes around here. You bought a book on developmental theory to read on the train, but instead you ended up watching TikTok videos until the 5G vanished. Maybe you’ll start reading it tonight after you put Tenko to bed.

“So, um –” you start, as Mrs. Shimura leads you up the stairs. “Can you tell me a little bit about what Tenko’s like? I mean, obviously I’ll ask him, but –”

“Oh, we can tell you!” Mrs. Shimura’s voice is bright. “He’s –”

“After you meet him,” Mr. Shimura interrupts from behind you. “Wait here.”

You pause, and Mr. Shimura slips past you to join Mrs. Shimura up ahead. They duck into a particular room, and you can hear them talking quietly. In the meantime, you take stock of your surroundings. The Shimura house is sparsely decorated, but on the wall opposite from you, there’s a family portrait hanging. It’s a good one. Mrs. Shimura, Mr. Shimura, and two children. The boy, the smaller one, must be Tenko. But there’s another one. A girl.

She doesn’t look that much older than Tenko. Is she old enough to go on a European tour with her parents, or is she staying with somebody else? If she’s staying with somebody else, how come Tenko isn’t staying there, too? Before you can really wind yourself up over something that’s none of your business, Mr. Shimura steps out into the hall, followed by Mrs. Shimura, who’s carrying Tenko. He must not be very heavy – she’s beckoning you forward with one hand.

“He’s a bit shy,” she says, apologetic. You have a split second to realize that something’s off about the kid’s position in her arms before she steps forward, fully into the light. “This is Tenko, our son. Say hello.”

You can’t say anything at all. All you can do is stare, because Tenko’s not a little boy like you thought he’d be. Tenko’s not a boy at all. Tenko’s a doll.

“A doll?” Manami asks. “Are you sure?”

“Of course I’m sure,” you hiss into the phone. It’s a big cordless phone, and you’ve got it pinned between your ear and shoulder as you pack and unpack your suitcase over and over again. “A big, creepy doll. Why would I lie about this?”

“I mean, I don’t think you would,” Manami says. She sounds bemused more than anything else. Maybe you need to say “creepy” again, with more emphasis. “How big is it?”

“Like, kid-sized. They put it on the bed at night.” You can’t think of the whole bizarre ritual Mr. and Mrs. Shimura demonstrated for you without feeling like you’ve lost your mind. “They have a daily routine for it – I’m supposed to wake it up in the morning, and take it out of its pajamas and put it in its clothes and make it breakfast –”

“Why do you have to make it breakfast? Dolls don’t eat.”

“I know dolls don’t eat. Everybody and their mother knows dolls don’t eat! Even little kids only fake-feed their dolls.” You want to scream. “But they want me to make it breakfast. And play music for it. And read aloud to it – and make it lunch and dinner and read it a bedtime story like it’s a real kid. I’m even supposed to give it a goodnight kiss.”

“But it’s not a real kid,” Manami says. You hit your head against the bedpost, producing a hollow thunk. “Why do they have you taking care of a doll like it’s a real kid? Do they even have real kids?”

“They do. Did.” You wouldn’t let the Shimuras leave without giving you an answer about that one, and because they really wanted you to stay and look after their creepy doll for three months, they didn’t screw around. “Two of them. Tenko – the one they named the doll after – and an older girl named Hana. They both died in an accident seventeen years ago.”

“Oh, that’s awful.” Manami sounds like she’s tearing up. You probably would have teared up, too, if the Shimuras hadn’t told you that after they’d handed you the creepy doll they named after their dead son. “They lost both their kids at once? I would go crazy too.”

“That’s the thing. They didn’t,” you say. “Not all the way. There’s only one doll.”

“That’s kind of weird,” Manami admits. “Why wouldn’t they make one for Hana too?”

“It gets weirder. Hana has a shrine. I’m supposed to take care of it.” That’s the least weird part of your job. If all you were doing was taking care of shrines to the Shimuras’ dead kids, you’d be perfectly happy. “They don’t have a shrine for Tenko. And the only picture they have of him is in this big family portrait on the wall.”

“Huh,” Manami says slowly. “Rich people are weird.”

“That’s all you’ve got to say?” you ask, exasperated. “Rich people are weird?”

“They are. Poor people wouldn’t make a life-sized doll of their dead kid and pay somebody to take care of it like it’s alive,” Manami says. You think she’s probably right. You’re poor, and if you had a kid who died, you – well, you don’t know what you’d do. You definitely wouldn’t do that. “Does it look like him?”

“Yeah. Creepily like him.” When you were racing upstairs to drop the doll on the bed and lock it in, you were unnerved enough to stop by the family portrait and check. “And creepily accurate, size-wise. Like, if you didn’t look too hard, you’d think he was real.”

“He is real,” Manami says, and you almost drop the phone. “I mean, the doll is real.”

“Right.” The doll is a little too real for your taste. “I think I meant alive.”

“That’s creepy,” Manami says, and you breathe a sigh of relief. You called her looking for validation, and you got it. You should have expected her to ask for details first. You would have. “What are you going to do?”

“I can’t stay here,” you say, but even as the words leave your mouth, you know they aren’t true. “I can’t leave, either. I need the money. And I need to be – away. For a little while at least. Until everybody forgets.”

“Until he forgets,” Manami says. Your ex-boyfriend, everybody. He’s so popular in town that they might as well be the same thing. “He came around last night looking for you. Danjuro told him off.”

You were already on edge over the doll thing, but that piece of news soaks you in an instant cold sweat. “Did he say anything?”

“Danjuro or Keigo? Danjuro would never,” Manami says, offended. You try to pace your breathing, praying you won’t hyperventilate. “Keigo said he was just worried about you, because he didn’t see you come to work yesterday – and when he asked everyone said you’d quit – so he thought he’d stop by –”

“Fuck.” If you could go back in time and give your past self one piece of advice, it would be to send the town’s youngest police chief in history packing when he asked if he could buy you a drink. That one bad decision spiraled into a nightmare you’re still struggling to escape. “I don’t understand. What is it going to take to make him stop?”

“You’re doing the smart thing. Going away, letting things die down,” Manami says. “I know this new place is creepy, but you picked it for a good reason. They’ll pay you cash, so Keigo can’t trace your cards. It’s a small town off the map, so it’ll be hard for him to find –”

“And I’m supposed to spend all day playing house with creepy Tenko, so no one will be able to tell him they saw me.” You’ll wear a disguise if you have to go out into town. Now that you know Keigo’s still looking for you, you need to be even more careful. “I just wish I wasn’t stuck here. And I wish it was a real kid.”

“Real kids pee their pants and cry,” Manami says practically, and you manage a wheeze of laughter. You knew talking to Manami would make you feel better, even if nothing has changed. “Trust me. You’re better off with the doll.”

You might be better off with the doll than a real kid, but for the first week or so of your stay in the Shimura house, you neglect doll Tenko in a way that real Tenko would never have let you get away with. Real Tenko probably wouldn’t have put up with being locked in his room all day, or being fed breakfast at two pm because you stayed up late and slept in later the night before. And real Tenko definitely wouldn’t have tolerated being schlepped around feet-up because you don’t like having his scary porcelain face so close to yours.

Then again, real Tenko probably didn’t like listening to classical music at max volume, either. Real Tenko’s also been dead for seventeen years. It’s probably safe to stop worrying about what real Tenko would think of how you deal with his freaky little homunculus counterpart.

Whenever you’re not conspicuously ignoring Tenko’s schedule, you’re getting to know the rest of the Shimura house – and outside it, the Shimura estate. It’s beautiful, so beautiful that you have a hard time imagining how anything in Europe could measure up, and when the weather allows it you spend a lot of time outdoors, poking around on the trails that cover the property and watching whatever animals wander by. The animals here aren’t very scared of people. The Shimuras probably don’t allow hunting on their property, and based on what the mailman does when he stops by every afternoon, nobody in town likes coming near the property for too long.

One person does, though. The Shimuras let you know that somebody comes by to deliver groceries – and bring your payment – once a week, and you’re coming back from a walk on a grey, foggy day when you see him. He’s balancing four grocery bags in one arm and trying to unlock the door with the other. You hurry forward. “Here, let me get that. I’m sorry.”

“I rang the bell.” The delivery guy’s face is completely concealed by the pile of grocery bags he’s toting. “No answer.”

“Yeah, I was out for a walk.”

“I thought you were supposed to stay inside. You know, since Tenko’s allergic to the air the rest of us breathe.” The delivery guy steps through the door after you unlock it, then drops the bags on the kitchen table and looks around. “Where is the kid, anyway? He’s usually attached to Mrs. Shimura at the hip.”

“He’s, uh, taking a nap.” You look the delivery guy up and down, noting blue eyes and spiky white hair, along with some burn scars and a ton of facial piercings. “I’m sorry, they didn’t tell me your name.”

“It’s Touya.” He holds out a hand to shake, and you copy him as you introduce yourself. “Yeah, Mrs. Shimura mentioned that someone new was coming, but I wasn’t sure you’d still be here. They’ve tried out a lot of nannies, but Tenko’s kind of picky. Or so I hear.”

“Are you making fun of me?” you ask. Touya’s eyebrows lift. “We are talking about the same Tenko here, right?”

“The d-o-l-l? That’s right,” Touya says. You give him the weirdest look you can manage on short notice. “Yeah. The Shimuras get pissy if we don’t talk about him like he’s real, so we all got in the habit. You will, too, if you’re here long enough.”

“We,” you repeat. “How many of you are there?”

“Me and my siblings. The Shimuras hire us to do stuff,” Touya says. “The weekly deliveries are usually my thing, but Fuyumi or Natsuo might fill in sometimes, since they can drive, too. Fuyumi helps with their garden in the summers and Natsuo does maintenance shit. I won’t bring the brat out here until it’s time to chop firewood. One of these days I’ll get lucky and he’ll lose a limb.”

You think Touya’s joking. You’re not sure. “Which one’s the brat?”

“Shoto. My baby brother. Daddy’s favorite.” Touya scoffs. “He gets all the pocket money he wants. He doesn’t even need to work, but does he let that stop him? No. He makes me drag him out here anyway –”

Touya breaks off, glances at you. “Do you have siblings?”

“Yeah.” You have siblings the same way the Shimuras have kids, but you don’t bring that up unless you’re forced to. “I’m the oldest. I’m guessing you are, too?”

“That’s right.” Touya runs a hand through his hair, spiking it up even higher than it was before. “Not that I care too much about your backstory, but you must have something really shitty going on to make this the better offer.”

“Yeah. You could say that.” You’re not too interested in Touya’s thoughts on your backstory, either. You collect the envelope with your pay and sort through it quickly, confirming that it’s all there, then look up at Touya. “Do I need to tip you or anything?”

“Twenty percent is customary.” Touya doesn’t let that crack stand for very long. “No. The Shimuras might be off the wall, but they pay well for everything – grunt work like what I do all the way up to caring for their precious little boy.”

There’s a thud from somewhere upstairs, and you jump out of your skin. Touya startles, too, but he recovers faster. “Sounds like the monkey just fell off the bed. You should probably go check on that.”

“Yeah. It was, uh – nice to meet you,” you say. Touya snorts. “See you next week.”

You don’t actually think Touya would steal your money, but you take the envelope with you when you race up the stairs to the second floor, and drop it on your bed before hurrying into Tenko’s room. You spend as little time in here as possible. It’s like a time capsule, frozen on the day the Shimuras decided to replace their dead son but not their dead daughter with a photorealistic porcelain doll, and it gives off some of the worst vibes you’ve ever felt.

You leave Tenko in here most of the time because looking at him creeps you out, and in spite of Touya’s joke about monkeys on the bed, he’s exactly where you left him. What’s fallen over is a mostly-empty bookshelf, and there’s something behind it – a little alcove in the wall, with a pile of old, dusty toys. Action figures, mainly, along with a single plushie. You go to investigate, and discover that while you’re not much of a comic-book fan, you recognize almost all the action figures. They’re from Adventures of All Might, a cartoon your brother used to watch. It’s been off the air for ten years at least. What are toys from a show that old doing in a five-year-old’s room?

The answer occurs to you, and to your displeasure, it makes you even more uncomfortable than the question. This isn’t a five-year-old’s room. Shimura Tenko died when he was five years old – seventeen years ago, when Adventures of All Might was on the air. If Tenko was alive, he’d be about as old as you are. The thought weirds you out so badly that you nudge the action figures to the side and pick up the plushie.

Getting a decent look at the plushie first involves violently shaking the plushie until the dust comes up in a big cloud. Underneath the dust, the plushie’s dog-shaped, or more accurately, corgi-shaped. There’s a piece of yarn around its neck, with a cardboard tag hanging from it. You hold it up for a look and somehow manage to decipher the handwriting of a long-dead five-year-old. “Mon,” you say out loud. “That’s a good name.”

It's a good name, but thinking about it makes you miserable. A big, creepy doll might be all that’s left of Shimura Tenko, but Shimura Tenko was a real person – a little kid who liked cartoons and handmade a collar for his plushie, who’d be your age if he’d had the chance to grow up. Your eyes are stinging from the dust. You spend a few more seconds brushing it away, then carry Mon over to the bed and set him down beside Tenko.

You’re surprised at how much less unsettling the sight becomes now that you’ve added a toy to it. It’s improved enough that you feel okay spending a little longer in Tenko’s room, righting the bookshelf that fell and arranging the action figures on top of it, before you go downstairs to put away the groceries.

The Shimura house is old. Old houses make noises – weird noises, a lot of the time, and that’s just something you have to live with. You’re good at living with it most nights, but tonight, as the first really big storm of autumn rages around the house, the noises you hear sound less like old-house creaks and groans and more like footsteps. And voices. And laughter. No matter how hard you try to distract yourself, you can’t.

You tried to call Manami, but the phone lines are down, and while you haven’t tried the lights, you’re pretty sure they’re out. All you can do is huddle up in bed, the door to your room barricaded, mumbling to yourself like an actual lunatic. “This is fucked up, this is fucked up, this is so fucked up –”

You’re fucked up. You think something’s haunting this place? The ghosts of a five-year-old and his seven-year-old sister, who didn’t even die in here? Some haunting. It’s your overactive imagination putting you through hell, and you’ve got proof – your shitty ex-boyfriend Takami Keigo is very much alive, and your mind’s been telling you that one of the laughing voices belongs to him. If you were faced with a choice between a living Keigo and a ghost Keigo, you’d pick the ghost in a heartbeat. Ghosts can’t stalk you when you try to take a break from the relationship and enlist the entire town, police force included, to their cause. And you could probably exorcise him, which would be a lot easier than whatever you’d have to do to get rid of real Keigo for good.

The sounds get weirder, and they’re coming from all over the place – the ceiling above you, the hallway, the rooms on either side of yours, even inside the walls. Maybe you’ve got rats or something. You’ll ask Natsuo about that when he comes over tomorrow to clear leaves out of the gutters and branches off the roof. It’s fine if there’s rats tonight, right? You can take a rat in a fight. Probably even ten rats. You’re not going to get eaten alive by rats. Ghost Keigo could be dealt with. Rats can also be dealt with. It’s just your imagination. You need to get it together.

It's just past three in the morning, and you think the getting-it-together is going okay, when a particularly big gust of wind rattles the house. There’s a colossal bang from somewhere, but only one. The windows are shaking in their frames, producing an odd, warped sound, and somewhere beneath it, there’s another sound, a sound that’s got no place in this house. Someone’s crying. It doesn’t take much or any stretching of the imagination to convince yourself that it’s a kid.

You decide instantly that you’re not going to waste time trying to talk yourself out of it. You’ll go check on Tenko, confirm that Tenko is in fact still a doll and not a real boy, and then you’ll go to bed and sleep in as late as you damn well please.

The wood floors in the hallway are cold beneath your feet, but it’s only a short walk to Tenko’s room – and then you have to double back, because you don’t have a flashlight and the lights are out. You’re already spooked and already frustrated by the time you open the door to Tenko’s room, and when you open the door, you’re ready to be mad. You click on the flashlight, raise it, and pan it over the room. And then you freeze.

Tenko’s room is trashed. Multiple shelves have been overturned, toys and books spilling everywhere, and the curtains over the boarded-up window hang in tatters. The shade’s off the lamp on the nightstand, and the dresser drawers yawn open – or else they’ve been pulled free and scattered across the room. The sheets are askew on the bed, the bed itself shifted at a weird angle. Tenko is nowhere to be found.

“Tenko?” you say hesitantly. You pan the flashlight again, and for a split second, you see a shadow crouched atop Tenko’s bed, far too big to be the doll. You don’t need to see any more than that. You drop the flashlight and scream.

The storm drowns out your scream, and you run out of air eventually – and then you’re tired of it. Screaming’s not doing anything to help, and if the shadow was going to kill you, it would have done it by now. You crouch down and feel along the floor until you come up with the flashlight, which still works. You check the bed first, but there’s no shadow there. There never was. The only things in this house are you and Tenko, and neither of you was up on the bed like a gremlin five seconds ago. You keep looking for Tenko. He has to be in here somewhere.

And he is. You find him behind the door, Mon-chan in his arms, his knees drawn up to his chest. “Hi, Tenko,” you say, like a crazy person. “Did you get scared?”

He doesn’t answer, of course. Because he’s a doll. He’s a doll, and you’re crazy. Knowing that doesn’t stop you from looking around at the wreckage of the room, thinking about how scary it would be to have to go back to bed in here if you were a kid. Thinking about how you used to be scared of lightning and thunder – maybe still are. “If you’re still scared,” you start, “do you want to stay in my room for tonight?”

Five minutes later, you’re setting a line of pillows down the middle of your bed, leaving one half for you and one half for Tenko. And Mon-chan, because you felt less weird about inviting a doll to sleep in your bed if the doll has its plushie, too. Once you’ve got Tenko squared away, you block the door again. “It’ll be daylight soon,” you tell yourself. Then, to Tenko: “We’ll fix your room up and everything will be fine.”

Tenko’s eyes are open. His eyes are grey, like they are in the family portrait, with long lashes. You reach out and close their lids carefully. The chances that you’ll be able to get to sleep are slim, but they’re zero as long as you’ve got a doll staring at you.

“It’s weird, right?” you say anxiously as Natsuo scans the mess in Tenko’s room. Most of the Todoroki kids don’t come inside the house, but you managed to lure Natsuo inside by mentioning the really loud bang you heard last night. “The wind couldn’t have done this.”

“Not with all the windows boarded up, yeah.” Natsuo looks wary. “You sure you don’t sleepwalk or anything?”

“Never,” you say. “I just – it was like this when I came in.”

“This is creeping me out,” Natsuo says, but he doesn’t look away. He’s looking around the room. “Where’s Tenko?”

“I moved him. In there.” You nod toward your room. “Things got wild in here last night. I kept thinking I was hearing voices, or laughter – or kids crying –”

You sound like a lunatic, again. Why does everything that happens to you make you look and feel crazy? “Have any of the other nannies mentioned things like that?”

“No,” Natsuo says, backing away from Tenko’s room. He glances into your room again. “Hey, Tenko. What – wait, you found Mon-chan? I remember that thing.”

“Huh?”

“That used to be his favorite,” Natsuo says. “When he was alive.”

You didn’t get much sleep last night. You’re a little slow. “Wait, you knew him?”

“We all did. Hana, too.” Natsuo starts down the hall, aiming for the stairs to the third floor. “They’re the richest family in town, and our shitty bastard of a father only wanted us to associate with the best. We all played together.”

You wish somebody had told you that earlier. “What was he like?”

“I don’t really remember,” Natsuo says with a shrug. “I was four. Touya would know better. You should ask him.”

He disappears up the stairs, and you chase after him. You don’t spend a lot of time on the top floor – it’s the master bedroom, and Mr. Shimura’s study, and a lot of stuff you feel like you shouldn’t get involved with. Natsuo doesn’t seem to have the same problem. “The attic’s open,” he calls. You climb the last few steps. “I bet the thud you heard was the trapdoor coming down.”

“Yeah, I think you’re right.” The trapdoor and ladder look heavy enough to produce the sound. “Can you fix it?”

“I’d have to climb up in there.” Natsuo looks really wary now. Out of the three older Todoroki siblings, he’s the one who’s least comfortable with coming into the house. “How about you climb up and look at the hinges? I’ll tell you what to look for, and I’ll come up if there’s anything wrong.”

You don’t want to go up in the attic, either, but you also want to make sure this doesn’t happen again. You nudge past Natsuo and climb the ladder into the musty dimness of the attic. Dimness, not darkness – there’s a skylight, the first window on the upper floors of the house that’s not boarded up completely. The attic itself is cluttered and dusty, but there aren’t any cobwebs that you can see. Small favors.

You crouch down by the trapdoor. “Okay. What am I looking for?”

Natsuo tells you, but even without his instructions, you probably could have figured it out. One hinge has been completely sheared away, dangling by one barely-there screw. Natsuo climbs up to study it with you, frowning. “This doesn’t look like metal fatigue. And the wood’s still in good condition. I don’t understand why it would just break.”

“I don’t know,” you say. “Can you fix it or not?”

“Yeah,” Natsuo says. “You have to stick around, though. I’m not staying up here alone.”

“Fair enough.”

While Natsuo works, you investigate the rest of the attic, trying not to sneeze and create a dust storm. At least half the attic is taken up by objects labeled as belonging to “Mom”, but they’ve been there way too long to be referring to Mrs. Shimura. You blow some dust off of a big picture frame to see what’s inside and find yourself looking at a poster that could be from a circus. The background is black and yellow and grey, the lettering ornate but still legible. Psychopomp, Medium, Illusionist: See the Spectacular Shimura Nana!

The next picture frame in line has a picture of Shimura Nana herself, and it’s immediately clear to you where Mr. Shimura got his looks from. Shimura Nana is gorgeous, dark-haired and grey-eyed with a bright, almost cocky smile on her face, and there’s a birthmark just below the corner of her mouth that looks familiar. When you think about people who can talk to the dead, you don’t think of them as looking this happy.

You carry both picture frames back to Natsuo. “Did you know their grandma was a magician?”

“No.” Natsuo glances at the frames, then flinches, almost dropping his screwdriver. “Shit. If I were you, I’d get out of here.”

You raise your eyebrows, and Natsuo gives you an exasperated look. “Somebody who could talk to the dead used to live here. The people who own this place have a doll that they treat like their dead son. And last night something trashed their dead son’s room. Haven’t you ever seen a horror movie? This place is haunted.”

“Don’t say that. I have to live here.”

“It’s gonna be haunted whether I say it or not.” Natsuo gives you a weird look. “Is it just the money thing? There are other ways to get money.”

“It’s not just money. I have to stay out of the way,” you say. “There’s this guy – my ex – he’s a cop –”

Natsuo’s mouth turns down at the corners. “I get it,” he says. “Our piece-of-shit old man is a cop. Our mom couldn’t get away, either.”

Your stomach drops. You know cops talk to each other. “Please don’t tell your dad that I’m –”

“Are you kidding? I barely talk to him. No way am I telling him that.” Natsuo says. He glances at you. “I get why you feel like you have to stay here. This place is still haunted.”

“Yeah,” you admit. You don’t know what’s haunting it – Tenko’s ghost, his sister’s ghost, his grandma’s ghost, or all three plus however many ghosts Shimura Nana summoned to hang out with her – but you have the same thought you had last night, and this time, you say it out loud. “I’ll take my chances with the ghosts.”

You get Tenko’s room reordered, and when the next storm comes, it doesn’t get trashed again. Then again, you go and grab the doll from the room the second you hear the first clap of thunder – not because you really think there’s a scared five-year-old ghost haunting it, but just to be safe. That same night, you retrieve Tenko’s schedule from where you abandoned it a month ago and read over it. Again, just to be safe.

It’s not that bad of a schedule, really. It’s not that weird. Most of it just involves moving Tenko from place to place around the house. You’d probably want a change of scenery, too, if you were a ghost haunting a doll. You don’t mind playing him music, but you play stuff you like, at a volume that’s a little less than earsplitting. You don’t mind reading aloud, so long as you’re reading your own books, and editing out the parts that aren’t kid-appropriate on the fly. And because he’s just there, and he’s not going to give you any feedback, it’s okay to think out loud.

At first it’s just whatever thought pops into your head, but as the days slip past in the second month of your stay at the Shimura house, you find that you’re getting into some stuff you haven’t talked about with anyone. And then, one day when you’re in the kitchen making your own dinner and setting out a plate for Tenko that you’ll inevitably throw away, you find yourself talking about something you swore you never would.

“I used to be a big sister,” you tell him. “Not like you and Hana. A bigger sister. My brother was five years younger than me, and he was my parents’ favorite, right from the start. That always used to confuse me. They liked him better even before he did anything.”

Confused is downplaying it. You were hurt. You still are, when you scratch the surface even a centimeter down. “I wanted to be a good sister, but it seemed like everything I did was wrong. I played too rough, or else I wasn’t playing with him at all. I didn’t share my toys, or I gave him toys he wasn’t supposed to have – and when I took them back, he’d always yell. And then my dad would yell. And I’d cry. But my brother was crying, too. And my mom always went to him.”

You glance back over your shoulder at Tenko. He’s sitting and waiting, like always, expression still and remote. You can’t look at him and say this next part. “When it happened, I was nine,” you say. “He was four. I was playing marbles, and he kept trying to grab them from me. He could talk by then – a lot – so I made a deal with him. He could pick any marble he wanted to play with, and let me have the rest of them. So he picked one – this big shooter, my favorite. Right out of my hand.”

The echo of your nine-year-old self’s anger still echoes through you, made all the more sickening by what happened next. “I tried to get it back, and he stuffed it in his mouth so I couldn’t. And then he started choking.”

You couldn’t get it out. You tried, screaming for help the whole time, but nothing you did made any difference. Nothing your mom did made any difference, either, and your baby brother was blue by the time the ambulance got there. Your parents didn’t blame you. You thought they were going to. You expected them to. But in their version of the story, you were barely there. You were their only kid again, and they couldn’t afford to hate you. Your brother grabbed the marble and swallowed it, and choked, and died. You just happened to be there. It wasn’t your fault.

But it was. You were the one who offered any marble he wanted. You should have known he’d pick the one you were holding – one that was too big to fit down his throat, one he’d try to keep away from you at any cost once he had it. You’re the one who couldn’t save him, and thinking about it doesn’t even make you cry. You’d say it makes you feel sick, but sick is too small of a word for the hollowness inside you. The place where you used to be a sister. The place where you used to be good.

“Today’s his birthday,” you tell Tenko, dry-eyed. “You’d be twenty-two like me if you were here for real, and he’d be seventeen, and I never told anybody that I gave the marble to him until just now. I don’t even know why I told you. I guess I thought you should know that it’s a good thing you’re not a real kid. Because I really don’t have great luck with those.”

You set Tenko’s plate down in front of him, knowing the food won’t be touched, then turn away to fill yours. When you turn back, the entire plate is gone.

You’ve gotten comfortable with the fact that the Shimura house is haunted. As comfortable as it’s possible to be when you don’t know exactly what’s haunting it. You put up with weird sounds at night, and with things being moved around, and you put up with some of your stuff going missing – but a whole plate of food vanishing because you turned around for two seconds? Nope. Not a chance. “Put it back.”

“He knows.”

You almost drop your plate, then tighten your grip. You’re losing it, officially, but you’ll be damned before you drop a bunch of food all over the floor. If you’re going to the mental hospital, you’re going well-fed. “I didn’t hear anything,” you say aloud. “I’ve just been talking to myself. That’s it.”

You stuff one bite, two bite, three bites of food into your mouth, and something speaks again. “Your brother. He knows.”

It’s not a little kid’s voice. Not the voice you’d imagine for Tenko as a ghost – but it doesn’t not sound like Tenko. It keeps talking. “He knows you tried to save him. And it matters that you tried.”

“How do you know?” Your voice rattles around the question, and there’s no answer. The strange voice doesn’t speak again, and the plate doesn’t reappear. “Please –”

“He knows,” the voice says. “He’d forgive you. If there was anything to forgive.”

The hollow place inside you has been there so long that you’ve forgotten what it’s like to have anything there. When something floods backs in, it hits with such violence that it drives all the air from your lungs. You shove your plate to one side and double over, gasping for breath. Your eyes burn and your throat closes, and before you know it, you’re crying.

You don’t really cry. Keigo always said something was wrong with you, that you didn’t show your feelings and he wasn’t sure you even had them. Crying feels awful. The headache it generates is all-encompassing, and you put your head down on the kitchen table and shut your eyes, waiting for it to stop. It seems like it’ll never end, and somewhere amidst the pain and embarrassment and relief, you find a shred of hate in your heart for Keigo. You never cried in front of him? He never made you feel anything worth crying about.

When the crying stops, the headache remains, and you sit up, rubbing at the crick in your neck. You must have fallen asleep; it’s dark outside, and the kitchen’s gloomy along with it. Not gloomy enough, though. Not so gloomy that you can’t see Tenko’s plate sitting back in front of him, wiped perfectly clean. The glass of water you poured for him is empty, too. And something clicks into place in the back of your head, only slightly warped by the headache.

Hana has a shrine. Hana’s shrine has offerings on it. Maybe the food you leave for Tenko is an offering, too. “Did you like this?” you ask. Your voice sounds awful. “I can make it again sometime.”

You have to start paying more attention to what Tenko eats, if he eats any of it. It’s the least you can do, after what he told you today. Even if it isn’t true, even if the ghost haunting the Shimura house decided to tell you a lie, this is the first time you’ve ever been able to think about your brother without feeling like you’re the one being choked to death. That’s worth a meal or two, in your opinion. You might actually need to learn how to cook.

You clear Tenko’s plate away, and on an impulse, lean down to kiss his forehead. “Thank you,” you say. It feels weird to be kissing a doll, especially when you’ve been skipping the goodnight kiss so religiously, but this is a special occasion. “I feel better now.”

“Wow, have you lost it,” Touya says, laughing. He drops the groceries on the far end of the kitchen table, well away from where you and Tenko are eating lunch. “You know he can’t eat, right? He’s a doll.”

“I know. But he’s dead, so it’s like – an offering,” you say. “Since he doesn’t have a real shrine.”

“Yeah,” Touya remarks. He opens the fridge and starts shoving things in haphazardly. “Real nice piece of work on his dad’s part.”

That reminds you of something Natsuo said a while back, something you’ve been meaning to ask Touya about. “Your brother said you all knew the Shimuras. That you played together. Is that true?”

“Yeah. My assclown father and their assclown father both fell out of the same assclown tree.” Touya shuts the refrigerator, then opens the freezer. “We’d play together sometimes. Go to the birthday parties and shit. Hana went to the same school as me and Fuyumi. That’s about it.”

He glances sideways at you. “Natsuo said you were going to ask. What do you want to know?”

“What were they like?”

“Hana – she was cool. Nothing threw her off, and nothing kept her down. Everybody liked her. Even my shitheap father, which is really saying something.” Touya shuts the freezer, too, and turns to face you. “Tenko, though – he was kind of a crybaby. Everything made that kid cry. Didn’t matter if it was good or bad. If he had a feeling for longer than two seconds, there went the waterworks.”

You didn’t have a real idea of Tenko’s personality in your head. You had what Mrs. Shimura told you – shy, sweet, playful – but you threw out most of what she said on principle because she was saying it about a doll. “He was a lot,” Touya continues, “but he didn’t have a mean bone in his body. It makes it kind of hard to believe the official story about what happened.”

“The official story,” you repeat. “The Shimuras just said it was an accident.”

“Yeah, they would.” Touya leans back against the kitchen table. “Both their kids drown in the well on the same day? Better be an accident.”

Your stomach lurches. “They drowned?”

“Both of them.” Touya pats his pocket, then comes up with a pack of cigarettes, followed by a lighter. “There are three schools of thought about what happened, and they all start with the well cover. I can take you out to look and prove it, but trust me when I say that thing’s a bitch – 20kg at least. The first school of thought says that Tenko got the well cover open and fell in, and when Hana heard him calling for help, she ran to help and fell in, too. And they both drown in there.”

You don’t understand why they need more than one school of thought. The first one is awful enough. “The second school of thought says somebody else opened the well cover and both kids fell in – and in that case, the question is who? The third one says that Tenko opened it himself and pulled Hana in after him. Guess which one the Shimuras went with.”

“They think he opened a 20kg well cover so he could drown himself in it and decided to take Hana with him, too?” You can barely believe it. You can’t imagine ascribing that kind of malice to a little kid. “I mean – I never met them, obviously, but – I don’t think he would –”

“I did meet him, and I don’t think so either. None of us do,” Touya says. He glances around the kitchen, his eyes lingering on Tenko for a second before drifting back to you. “Something really fucked up happened here. Fucked up things happen in the house I grew up in all the time, but not like this.”

He’s frowning. “My dad plays favorites, but he’s indifferent to the rest of us. Hana’s dad hated Tenko. You could tell.”

“How?”

“Because Hana wasn’t scared of him. Tenko was.” Touya lights his cigarette and takes a drag. “I wouldn’t spend too long thinking about it, if I were you.”

“I don’t know how I’m going to not think about it,” you say. You wish you’d asked what happened to Tenko and Hana sooner. “Is that why they’ve only got the one shrine?”

“Couldn’t tell you.” Touya shrugs, then heads over to the pantry to start unpacking the dry goods one-handed. “I can tell you this, though. When they went down into that well to get the kids out, they only found one body. And it wasn’t his.”

As if this couldn’t get more horrible. Picturing the children’s bodies floating together in the cramped quarters of the well is bad enough, but picturing just Hana, knowing that Tenko’s lost somewhere in the depths, never to be found – your skin crawls. You start unpacking the dry goods alongside Touya, trying to get through it quickly so he’ll leave. You need to be alone to think about this. You can’t talk to Tenko about it while someone else is here.

“One more thing,” Touya says under his breath. “Natsuo told me and Fuyumi about the thing. Dad cornered Fuyumi on it and she caved. So –”

So now a cop here knows that you’re hiding out from another cop. Your hands shake so badly that you drop the bag of rice you’re trying to put away. “Keep it together,” Touya warns. “We fucked up but we’re fixing it. The brat’s going to keep his ear to the ground, and we’ll keep an eye out. You should get as much advance warning as you need.”

“Okay,” you say. “Thanks.”

“Don’t thank us,” Touya says. “Just think about what you’re going to do when the Shimuras get back.”

Right. You can’t stay here forever. It’s not like the Shimuras are going to let you keep taking care of Tenko when they’re here to do it themselves. Your expenses here are zero. By the time they come back home, you’ll have saved a lot of money, enough to do – something. Like get out of the country and never look back. Or hire someone to put a hit on Keigo so you never have to look over your shoulder again. Either way, you’ll be getting out of here. And you won’t see Tenko – or hang out with his ghost – ever again.

The thought shouldn’t make you sad, but it does. But nothing could possibly make you sadder than the thought of the Shimura kids trapped in the well. No matter how they got there.

Some part of you knew it couldn’t last – the part of you that’s familiar with the kind of guy you almost married, the one who always gets what he wants and can’t take no for an answer. Some part of you always knew Keigo would find you. But you weren’t prepared for what it would feel like to actually see him standing inside the kitchen of the Shimura household, surrounded by grocery bags and wearing a self-satisfied grin. You’d stammered out a question about what he was doing here, and Keigo smiled at you. “The police chief here’s a good guy. He let me know that his kids handle some of the work around here, and I offered to bring the groceries by so we’d have a chance to talk alone.”

He’d nodded meaningfully at Tenko, who you were holding. “We are alone, right? That’s just a creepy doll.”

You said yes, if only because you didn’t want Tenko anywhere near whatever you and Keigo were going to talk about. And now you’re in your room, under Keigo’s watchful eyes, packing up to leave.

The door to Tenko’s room is closed, but you’d be crazy to assume that his ghost couldn’t hear you no matter where you are in the house. “I can’t just leave,” you say for the millionth time. “This is my job. I made a commitment.”

“To take care of a human child. Not a doll.” Keigo is smiling, but his eyes are hard and glinting. “Getting out of here with me is the sanest thing anybody in your position can do. He’ll be fine.”

“No,” you say. Keigo raises his eyebrows. “They’ll be back in a month. Let me finish doing my job, and then I’ll come back.”

Keigo shakes his head. “I’m worried about your mental health. When I talked to the police chief here, and he told me his kids were helping you take care of a porcelain doll in a big house with boarded-up windows, I got even more worried. And I don’t want to be the one to break this to you, but the Shimuras were never planning to come back.”

“What do you mean?” you ask. Keigo reaches into his back pocket and produces a letter – one that’s clearly been addressed to Shimura Tenko, and one that’s already been opened. “Hey. You can’t just open people’s mail.”

“If it’s linked to illegal activity, I can do whatever I want.” Keigo slides the letter out of the envelope and clears his throat. “Dear Tenko, We are heartbroken to tell you that we will not be returning home. We can no longer live with what you have become. The girl is yours – the girl. That’s you, right?”

You can’t think of who else it would be. Keigo keeps reading, projecting his voice. “The girl is yours. She is yours to love and care for. May we all be forgiven. Yours, Mother and Father.” He lowers the letter, raises his eyebrows. “They’re sacrificing you to the memory of their dead son. You know, the one who was so sick and crazy he drowned himself just so he could drown his own sister?”

“That’s not what happened,” you say. Keigo laughs at you. “Shut up! You weren’t here –”

“Neither were you,” Keigo says. “I’ve read the police reports. The statements from the parents –”

“The ones Touya’s dad took?” You remember Touya and Natsuo comparing their dad to Tenko’s dad, and not in Mr. Shimura’s favor. “Sure. I guess they have to cover up for each other, or none of them would get away with it.”

“Okay. That’s it.” Keigo lifts the last pile of clothes out of your arms, drops them unceremoniously into your suitcase, and zips it shut. “The sooner you get out of this house, the better. We need to be far away from here by the time it comes out.”

“By the time what comes out?”

“This isn’t just the Shimuras’ goodbye letter, it’s their suicide note. Their bodies were recovered yesterday.” Keigo looks almost gleeful in the always-dim light of the Shimura house. Or maybe you really are just losing your mind. “Lawyers are going to be all over this place any day now. Let’s go.”

He pulls the suitcase off the bed with one hand, then grabs your arm with the other. “Come on. Don’t make this so difficult –”

“Give me the letter,” you say hopelessly. “I want to read it to Tenko.”

“You want to read a letter to a doll.” Keigo looks skeptical. “What’s that going to do?”

You invent something on the fly. “Closure.”

“Closure?” Keigo repeats. “Huh. I guess if it keeps you from fixating on this the way you fixate on everything else, sure. Go read the doll his parents’ suicide letter.”

Despair keeps your footsteps heavy as you make your way across the hall into Tenko’s room. You settled him on the bed with Mon-chan, like always, and you sit down on the end of the bed, the same as you do when you read him a bedtime story. “Tenko,” you start. “Um, I have to go. And I have something to tell you. I feel like you should hear it from me and not somebody else.”

You lay out the situation carefully, fighting back tears. “I’m sorry to leave like this. I don’t want to, but Keigo’s here, and he says –”

“Don’t want to?”

You haven’t heard the ghost’s voice since it talked to you about your brother. “I don’t want to,” you say. “Keigo says I have to.”

“Don’t make me sound like a dictator. I want what’s best for you,” Keigo says from the doorway. “That’s enough. Let’s go.”

“No.”

That was audible. Keigo should be able to hear it. “Keigo, did you hear –”

“You talking to yourself? Yeah.” Keigo grabs your arm, yanks you sharply away from the bed. “You went crazier than I thought in here, huh?”

“No.”

This time Keigo hears it. You can see it in his face. A split second later, the lights go out.

Keigo’s grip on your arm tightens. There’s a crash from somewhere else in the house, and his grip tightens further. He drags you out of Tenko’s room through the darkened house. “Did you plan this or something?” he asks you as you stumble down the stairs after him. “It’s a good show. If you put this much effort into making our relationship work –”

“NO.” The lights in the front hall switch on, revealing something standing dead center in the hallway, between you and the way out.

Keigo curses and rocks back a step, but you know instantly what you’re looking at, who you’re looking at. “No,” Shimura Tenko says. “No means no.”

Tenko doesn’t look very much like the doll anymore. His grey eyes are red, and his black hair is white, but you recognize his features. They’re the same ones from the doll, from the family portrait, from your memories his parents and the poster you saw of his grandmother. He’s thin, almost skeletal, his hands and limbs spiderlike. He looks filthy, and his clothes are ragged. If you’d had a nightmare of what might haunt this house the first night you moved in, it would have looked exactly like this.

You’re looking at Shimura Tenko. Shimura Tenko’s supposed to have been dead for seventeen years. You don’t know how or why he’s here, but you know one thing, one thing that’s been true since you realized the Shimura house was haunted: You’d rather take your chances with a ghost. “I don’t want to leave,” you say to Tenko, ignoring Keigo when he orders you to be quiet. “I promised I would stay.”

Tenko’s crimson gaze shifts from you to Keigo. “She stays,” he says in that strange, not-quite-human voice. “You leave.”

Keigo laughs. “Sorry, I don’t think you get it. We’re leaving. You’re staying right where you are.”

He starts down the hall again, your efforts to fight free barely making a skip in his stride. The front door opens a crack behind Tenko, and you can see a white-haired someone peering through. One of the Todorokis, maybe Touya or Natsuo who promised they’d warn you if they saw Keigo coming. Touya points at you, beckons. “I’m going to tell you this one more time,” Keigo is saying to Tenko. “Get out of the –”

Tenko lunges at him. Keigo lets go of you. And you run straight out the front door, down the front steps. Past the Todoroki siblings. As far and as fast as your legs will carry you, until you trip on something, hit your head on something else, and black out on the ground.

Smoke stings your nasal passages, and you wake up coughing. Someone is breathing raggedly next to you, and someone else is shaking your shoulder. “Come on,” Natsuo is saying under his breath. “Come on, come on –”

“No, be careful, she hit her head –” Fuyumi is patting your hand. “If you can hear us, we need you to wake up. It’s Tenko.”

Tenko, the doll? No, Tenko the – whatever he is. The thing that’s alive. The thing that’s real enough to challenge Keigo to a fight. You sit up with the worst headache you’ve had in maybe your entire life and look around. The grounds of the Shimura estate are eerily backlit, and when you glance over your shoulder, you see that the Shimuras’ house is in flames. “What – happened?”

“Tenko killed the cop,” Natsuo says. You look blankly at him. “Touya said we should burn down the house to hide it, and we thought Tenko understood. But then he went back inside.”

“He won’t come out,” Fuyumi says. “Touya’s been yelling for him, but he’s not responding. If we don’t get him out soon he’ll die. If he won’t listen to Touya, then –”

“Maybe he’ll listen to you,” Natsuo says. His expression twists. “He used to be normal. What happened to him?”

You don’t have a clue. Tenko’s alive. Somehow, some part of him – something that looks like him, or is him, or answers to his name. Tenko’s alive, and Keigo is dead, and that’s so difficult to process that your mind skips straight past it. Or tries to. Tenko is alive, and Keigo is dead because Tenko killed him, and for some reason Touya thought it was a good idea to try to burn down the Shimura house. You squeeze your eyes shut and try your hardest to compartmentalize. You can’t stop the house from burning. You can’t bring Keigo back to life. But there is someone alive in there. You can do something about that.

You get to your feet unsteadily and turn back towards the house. The top floor is in flames, light flickering behind the boarded-up windows, and although there’s smoke flooding the grounds, the lower floors of the house look clear of fire. It’s safe for you to go in. Safe enough. You duck past Touya, who’s been hollering up at the windows for Tenko to get “his creepy man-spider ass” out here, and in through the front door. And from there you have no idea what to do.

If you knew anything about who Tenko really is, you’d know where to look. The habits of doll Tenko tell you absolutely nothing. When he’s moved, or been moved, there’s no rhyme or reason to where he’s ended up – except for one time, the first time the doll ever moved from the place you left it. You climb the stairs, turn down the hall, dart past your room. The door to Tenko’s is open, the room itself trashed all over again. The only thing still in place is Mon-chan, sitting on the bed.

You grab it, in case it helps. Then you turn back to the place you found Tenko last time, and sure enough, he’s there. Right behind the door. But while doll Tenko could conceal himself perfectly in the space, the real Tenko is too tall and gangly. Even hunched in on himself with his knees drawn to his chest, there’s an elbow sticking out of the shadows in one spot, a foot sticking out in the another. His red eyes stare out blankly through the tangle of matted white hair. He’s not moving except to cough.

You’re coughing, too. It’s hard to speak. “Tenko, come on,” you say. “It’s not safe anymore. It’s time to go.”

“Dead.” His voice sounds even less human now. “They left me.”

His parents. “That doesn’t mean you have to stay here,” you say. “You don’t have to die because they did. You can come with me.”

There’s blood on Tenko’s hands, on his clothes. It’s smeared on the lower half of his face, draining from his nose and from a cut on his forehead. You pull your sleeve down over your hand, reach forward, and wipe it away, clamping down on the shiver that runs through you when he turns his head against your hand. “Come with me,” you say again, and he shakes his head. “Okay. Then move over.”

Tenko looks up, startled. “I said I didn’t want to leave you,” you say. “I meant it.”

You were wondering, all this time, if you’d know you’d finally lost your mind when it happened. The answer is yes, and the magical thing about losing your mind is that you don’t care all that much. The ex-boyfriend you were running from is dead. The house you were staying in is burning to the ground. You’ve spent the last three months taking care of a doll in a house you thought was haunted by a ghost, only to realize that everything you’ve been doing for the doll, you’ve been doing for the man it was modeled after, too. The world is upside down, twisted, backwards. Nothing and everything make sense right now.

“Either we both go,” you say, coughing harder now, “or we both stay. It’s up to you.”

You pull your hand back from wiping at his face and hold it out for him to take. He looks at it, then at you, and you wonder what he’s thinking. You wonder if he’s even scared of dying, if dying matters to something like him, whatever he is. If he really is Tenko, he’s died once before already, hasn’t he? Is it any harder to die again? Whether it is or not, Tenko doesn’t seem interested in finding out. He takes your hand, lets you pull him to his feet, and then yanks you out into the hall himself.

The air is thick and grey, and the flames are catching up, but Tenko’s fast as he drags you down the hall to the stairs. You stumble over a body at the base of them and make the mistake of looking at the face. Or what’s left of the face. Tenko doesn’t let you look for long. He pulls you past Keigo’s body to the front door and shoves you out of it – and then, before he can retreat, Natsuo and Touya seize him by his arms and yank him out after you.

The four of you tumble down the steps, landing in a heap in the driveway. Tenko is coughing, a wet, horrible sound, and while you’re able to get to your feet, he barely moves. You and the Todorokis have to drag him away from the house, down the driveway until all you can see of the house is the pillar of flames billowing up from the roof. You stop to catch your breath, and the others stop, too. You and Fuyumi, Touya and Natsuo, and Tenko sprawled on the ground between you.

It’s quiet for a second. “Wow,” Touya says to Tenko. “You’re even weirder-looking than I remember. And you reek.”

Fuyumi smacks him. Natsuo’s got bigger things to worry about. “What are we going to do with him?” he demands. “If that’s even him. If it’s some kind of monster that’s bad enough. If it’s him, he’s been dead for seventeen years – and he just killed a guy!”

“That guy was a fuckweasel,” Touya says. He glances at you. “Right?”

You don’t want to say yes. “He wasn’t a very nice guy,” you say, and Touya snorts. “I was scared of him.”

“And you’re not scared of that?” Natsuo demands.

“He’s not a that,” you say. “He’s –”

You don’t really know what. Tenko bleeds red like a human. Based on the way Tenko was yanking you around, he’s really strong. He’s so thin that he’s almost a skeleton, and he smells like he hasn’t showered in seventeen years. But whatever he is, he’s alive. That’s where you’ll start from. “He’s Tenko,” you say finally, for lack of a better way to phrase it. “I don’t know what his deal is, but I’m not scared of him right now. If I do get scared, I’ll deal with it then. I’m not leaving him here.”

“No one thinks we should do that,” Fuyumi reassures you. “We just need to think of where to put him. I know a place.”

It’s quiet for a second. “No,” Touya says suddenly. “He’s not staying at my place.”

“Just for tonight,” Fuyumi urges. “We can sneak him in now – Dad won’t be back for hours, he’ll be coming to investigate this – and clean him up before we figure out what to do with him.”

“She can stay there, too,” Natsuo says, nodding at you. “If Dad comes by, she can answer the door, and Dad will be so thrilled at the idea that you’re having straight sex that he won’t bother you for a week.”

Touya snickers at that. “Fine,” he says to Tenko. Then, to you: “You can borrow some of my clothes for him, but I’m not helping you give him a bath.”

“I wouldn’t ask you to,” you say. The idea of giving doll Tenko a bath felt so weird that you never did it. The idea of giving adult Tenko a bath is less weird but still something you aren’t looking forward to. You can hear sirens in the distance. “We should go now.”

Tenko’s semiconscious as you and the Todorokis load him into Touya’s car. Nobody wants to sit in the back with him, but someone has to, so you and Tenko have the backseat to yourself while all three Todorokis jam together up front. Tenko buckles his own seatbelt, but as soon as Touya pulls onto the main road, he unbuckles himself and crawls across the backseat towards you. You retreat, but there’s only so far you can go. “Uh –”

“Guys, he’s climbing on her!” Natsuo’s keeping an eye on you. “Leave her alone!”

Touya meets your eyes in the rearview mirror. “Need me to pull over?”

You shake your head. Tenko’s settling into the seat next to yours, and he buckles himself again before twisting sideways to face you. He looks awful, and somehow worse than that, he looks scared. You can’t tell if it’s a childish fear or not. Tenko hasn’t left his house in seventeen years – it wouldn’t surprise you if he was agoraphobic. And if you’d just left the only home you’d ever known in flames behind you, you’d be scared, too.

And you remember what Tenko said to you, after you told him what happened to your brother. He probably wasn’t talking to your brother from the beyond. But if the story Touya and the others believe about how Hana and Tenko ended up in the well is true, Tenko knows how it feels to have an older sister who tried to save him. Maybe it’s still okay for you to believe that your brother, wherever he is, feels the same way, too. Tenko didn’t have to give you that, but he did.

You open your arms slightly, and Tenko collapses forward into them, his spiderlike hands grabbing fistfuls of your shirt and hanging on tight. He’s too tall to hide his face in your shoulder, like he seems to want to do. His mouth ends up pressed against your ear instead. “I’m not a doll anymore,” he says. His voice is roughened with smoke, but there’s a softness to it, incongruous enough to make your skin crawl. “I can take care of you, too.”

It could be a child’s innocent insistence on fairness, a man’s confident assertion, a monster’s implicit threat. As Touya’s car speeds down the road, you come to the conclusion that it might be all three at once, and something more – the promise of a lover, sealed by cracked, bloody lips pressing against your cheek.

[official-cvntified-gay]

Can i get Sugar mommy Alcina? 😭🙏

Reader found her profile and fell inlove instantly, (because who wouldn't) and idk you can do whatever you want with the rest 😗

Thanks and loveeeeee your work so much!💞💞

𝐖𝐡𝐲 𝐍𝐨𝐭? [𝐀𝐥𝐜𝐢𝐧𝐚 𝐃. 𝐱 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫]

warnings: smut, sugar realness, public sex

❥ note: I am so sorry darling it took me so long to upload this, I gotta say, writing smut is so hard(I get all hot and bothered) on my knees to all smut writers, thank you for feeding us. And thank you anon and I hope you enjoy this filth<3

❥ note: request is open<3

You had no intention of diving into a sugar relationship, but curiosity got the best of you one late evening as you scrolled through various profiles on a niche site. You weren't even seriously looking until she appeared on your screen.

Alcina Dimitrescu.

It was impossible to ignore the immediate impact she had on you. Her profile was captivating, her beauty mesmerizing, and her wealth? Well, it was obvious she didn’t need to flaunt it—her elegance spoke volumes. Standing taller than any woman you’d ever seen, her striking dark hair cascading down her back, sharp cheekbones that could cut glass, and the grace in her piercing gaze made you pause. The way she carried herself, even in a few photos, was magnetic.

A playful grin tugged at your lips. Why not? You thought as you typed a message, half-expecting not to hear back. But, to your surprise, it took mere minutes before a response pinged in.

"You’re quite bold to approach me, darling. Care for a drink tomorrow night?"

Your heart nearly leapt out of your chest as you read it. Tomorrow? Alcina Dimitrescu wanted to meet you tomorrow night? The thought was dizzying.

The next evening, you found yourself dressed in your best, standing nervously in front of one of the most luxurious hotels in town. The butterflies in your stomach only worsened when a sleek black car pulled up, and the driver opened the door to reveal her.

Alcina stepped out gracefully, her figure impossibly tall, dressed in an exquisitely tailored black dress, her red lips curled into a knowing smile. You felt your pulse quicken as her golden eyes swept over you.

“Well, aren’t you just darling?” she said, her voice smooth like velvet, with an edge of amusement. “Shall we?”

You nodded, speechless, as she offered you her hand—cool, strong, and commanding. The touch sent shivers down your spine as she led you into the hotel, whisking you away to a private lounge that screamed exclusivity.

Conversation flowed easily, and though Alcina radiated power and grace, she was attentive, never making you feel lesser despite her imposing figure and wealth. There was undeniable chemistry—her eyes never straying far from yours, her voice laced with quiet seduction as she inquired about your life, your interests, all while making her intentions clear.

After that night, Alcina kept her promise, sweeping you into her world of luxury. But each encounter revealed more than just opulence. With every passing day, you started to see behind her controlled exterior. At first, she showered you with gifts—lavish dinners, designer clothes, and trips to private locations. Yet, amidst the grandeur, something in her softened.

Months passed, and your relationship with Alcina grew more profound and passionate. She wasn’t just spoiling you with her wealth anymore—though she did love to see you dressed in the finest clothes and accessories—but there was a deep connection between you two that transcended the material world. Her affection had shifted into something tender, something that felt like home. She had started trusting you with more of her personal life, and her once-impenetrable walls had crumbled in your presence.

One afternoon, Alcina decided to take you shopping in one of the most exclusive boutiques in town. She had mentioned a gala was coming up, and of course, you needed to be dressed to perfection for the event. As you entered the store, you were greeted by the staff as if you were royalty. Alcina’s commanding presence made it clear that this was no ordinary shopping trip—she wanted to spoil you, and nothing was off-limits.

Her eyes scanned the racks of elegant dresses, pausing at a sleek, black gown that immediately caught her attention. She turned to you, a smirk tugging at her lips. “I think I’ve found the one for you, darling,” she purred, holding the dress up for you to see.

The gown was stunning—long, with a dangerously high slit on one side that promised to show just enough to make hearts race. You could already feel Alcina’s eyes tracing the path that the dress would reveal.

“I’ll try it on,” you said, your heart already pounding.

The boutique’s fitting rooms were just as luxurious as the rest of the store, complete with velvet curtains and gilded mirrors. As you slipped into the dress, you could feel the fabric hugging your body in all the right places. It was a perfect fit—sensual and elegant, just the kind of look Alcina loved on you.

You stepped out of the fitting room to show Alcina, her gaze locking onto you immediately. Her golden eyes darkened with a familiar, smoldering intensity as she drank in the sight of you in the dress.

“Turn around for me,” she said, her voice low, but there was a fire beneath it.

You obliged, slowly turning so she could see every angle. The slit of the dress revealed the smooth curve of your thigh, and you could feel her gaze lingering there. The air between you grew thick with tension as she stood up, her towering form moving closer.

“You look exquisite,” she murmured, her fingers lightly brushing against the exposed skin of your thigh. The simple touch sent a jolt of heat through your body, and you swallowed hard, trying to focus.

Before you could say anything, Alcina’s hand slid to your waist, pulling you closer. Her breath was hot against your ear as she whispered, “I can’t resist you like this.”

Her lips ghosted over the curve of your neck, and a shiver ran down your spine. You tried to keep your composure, but her proximity, her scent, the way her hands caressed you—it was overwhelming. The fitting room suddenly felt far too small for the desire crackling between you.

“We’re in public,” you managed to whisper, though your voice was shaky with need.

Alcina chuckled softly, her lips brushing against your earlobe. “Then we’ll just have to be quiet, won’t we?”

Before you could protest further, Alcina was guiding you back into the fitting room, pulling the curtain closed behind her with a swift motion. The space felt even more intimate with her towering figure crowding you against the mirror. She tilted your chin up, her golden eyes locking onto yours with a hunger that made your knees weak.

Her lips crashed onto yours, and all thoughts of resistance vanished. The kiss was deep, demanding, and you melted into her touch, your hands gripping her shoulders as if to steady yourself. Her hands slid down the curve of your waist, fingers grazing the slit of the dress as she traced the bare skin beneath.

The heat between you was undeniable. Alcina’s touch was firm yet gentle, her lips moving against yours with a raw passion that sent waves of desire coursing through you. Her hands explored your body with practiced ease, and it wasn’t long before you were both lost in the moment, the world outside fading away.

Her lips left a burning trail down your neck, her fingers slipping beneath the fabric of the dress as she whispered against your skin, “I want you, here and now.”

Your breath hitched, and you nodded, unable to form coherent words. You didn’t care that you were in a fitting room, or that anyone could walk in at any moment. All that mattered was the way Alcina made you feel—desired, cherished, and utterly consumed by her touch.

As the intensity between you deepened, her lips found yours once again, and you surrendered completely to the moment. The fitting room became your world, and Alcina was all you could think about—her touch, her scent, the way she made you feel like you were the only person that mattered.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity of waiting, she move your lacy panties to the side, teasing your clit with her feather like touches.

"I know, sweet girl." She coos as you whine at her teasing, she made sure you were nice and wet for her. She coats her fingers with your juices before finally inserting her fingers into your aching hole.

Her hand pat your head as you rest your forehead on her shoulder, biting your lips as you contain your moans and whimpers. “Shh, darling,” she whispered soothingly. “We wouldn’t want anyone to know, would we?” she gently pull your hair back as she asked you, all you could do was gave her a nod as another whimper escaped your lips.

"Leg up, sweet girl." she wrap your leg around her waist, giving her better access and her fingers going deeper, your head resting against the mirror as her fingers continued to thrust sporadically against your walls.

Eyes closed, lips bitten, strained moans and whimpers

This woman knows what she's doing and she does it so well.

"Everything alright in there ma'am?" Your body jolts in shock as the staff knocks on the door, Alcina immediately brings her hand around your mouth. Her fingers thrusting faster and curling simultaneously in that spot, she smiled as your eyes widen then rolled back.

"Everything's all good." She answered the woman calmly as you fell apart against her fingers, Alcina kiss your forehead as the woman kept talking.

"Alright ma'am, if you're settled with your dresses just come to the cashier and we'll assist you." The woman said, unaware of what's happening just a few steps from her. Sweats are forming on your forehead as you feel your whole body warming.

"We're definitely coming." Alcina removes her hand as the oblivious woman walk away. "Come for me darling." With that your whole body follow her sweet words, trembling against her fingers, high-pitched moans and whimpers left you while your cum drips down her fingers.

Legs shaking as she let you rode your orgasm before pulling out, stroking your hair as you catch your breath. Alcina whisper sweet words and encouragement to you, kissing you as she muttered how good you are for her. You rest your head on her shoulder, nuzzling your face on her neck as she stroke your back.

The world outside could wait. Here, in this moment, it was just the two of you, tangled in a web of desire and affection that felt both overwhelming and perfect. And as Alcina whispered your name against your skin, you knew that this was more than just a fling, more than just a casual romance.

This was something real. Something powerful. And you were all in.

[i-starcreamed]

Okay here's a oneshot idea: Tf One Darkwing x Female Cybertronian Miner Reader. He tries to do his usual angry act with her but she thinks he's cute when he's angry. Flustered Darkwing time maybe? IDK i feel like im the only one who thinks he's kinda cute and silly lmao

DARKWING X READER

Oh my god thank you anon, you’re definitely not the only one who thinks so…I love him. He’s such a bully but I love him I think. Sorry this is short, I def have to write more for him :3 ps there's like no HD pics of him

cybertronian!reader no spoilers, fake scenario. loser flustered Darkwing

“MINER Y/N. Reports say you’ve been slacking off for the past three days again…WHY?!”

Darkwing bellowed, squaring his massive beautiful frame to tower over you. Not that he needed to—he was already bigger than any miner bot around. Way to rub it in.

This was the second time you’d been called in for a little chat with him this month, and by the way, he called you out by the full name in front of everyone else. Who does that? Despite being slightly annoyed, you had a smug smile plastered on your faceplate.

You casually leaned against the wall behind you, shrugging lazily. “Dunno. I don’t really feel like mining,” You deadpanned.

You weren’t lying, your frame has been extra sore for weeks. Honestly, a break sounded great right about now.

Darkwing let out that little, irritated growl he always did when bots got under his plating. His servos clenched in the air, digits flexing as if he was physically holding back his frustration. If he could, he looked like he could rip out his own helm. He stomped closer, jabbing a metal digit in your face.

"WHY DON'T YOU LISTEN TO ME?! GO. GET BACK TO W-"

"Hey Darkwing," You interrupted smoothly, not budging an inch as you looked up at him with a playful grin.

"You know, you're a bit cute when you're mad at me like this."

Darkwing froze mid-rant, lowering his servos. "What?" He sputtered, reeling his helm back in confusion.

That tough facade of his? CRUMBLING before your very optics.

"I'm not..IM NOT CUTE!"

His voice hitched, his fists dropping to his sides, clenched tight as he glared through his visor. Your grin only grew.

"SOMETHING IS CLEARLY WRONG WITH YOU!"

You rolled your optics.

"Yeah, yeah. Something’s definitely wrong with me if I think you are adorable. You could help me out, though. Maybe working overtime with you would fix my… problem." You slyly added, holding your servo to him.

He took a step back, grumbling under his breath. If his fists curled into themselves even tighter, he might leave an indent in his own servo.

"Stop that...uh, GET BACK TO WORK!"

"Whatever you say, boss."

[megalony]

Ballet Dancer

This is an Eddie Diaz imagine, requested by anon. I'm sorry for how long it's taken me to write this for you I hope you will all like it. I'm working my way through some Eddie requests as I'm in the mood to write for him at the moment. Any feedback is always lovely.

Taglist: @lunaticspoem@sj-thefanthefan@hellsdragon@im-an-adult-ish@crazylittlethingg@allauraleigh@onceuponadetectivedemigod@ceres27@avyannadawn@sleepylunarwolf@coverupps@justagirlthatlovedtoread @musicistheway @avada-kedavra-bitch-187 @luula @missdreamofendless @bradleybeachbabe @woderfulkawaii  @amberpanda99 @daggersquadphantom @marvel-and-chicago-fan @angryknightstatesmantrash @minjix @lyjen @kmc1989 @itsmytimetoodream @noonenuts @hiireadstuff @ashie-babie @classyunknownlover @jayyeahthatsme @sp1ritssz @dumb-fawkin-bitch @oliverstarksbae @gimatida @heart-35

Eddie Diaz Masterlist

Summary: The team never knew how into ballet Eddie was... or the fact that he is married to a ballet dancer. Until they get called out to an accident at the theatre.

Enjoy.

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

Eddie tipped his head back against the seat and closed his eyes while his hands moved to clasp together between his thighs. He brushed his thumbs over the back of his hands as he closed his eyes and took a deep breath, trying to level out the unease and panic in his system.

He didn't like where they were going on this call out.

He knew exactly where they were going; Eddie had been here over ten times during the last month alone, but never on a call out. Never with anyone from the team alongside him. And he had never been here whilst he was on duty.

It had to be a coincidence. There were going to be hundreds of people here tonight. That gave Eddie a good chance of not having his wife be one of the people they were here to attend to. He prayed his wife wouldn't be one of the casualties they had to patch up. There chances were slim when compared to how many people worked here and would be here visiting to watch the performance.

When the truck pulled to a stop, Eddie stilled himself and took a deep breath, trying not to act too eager to get out. He let everyone else filter out the truck first before he hopped down and grabbed one of the medic bags and slung it onto his shoulder.

"Well this is a new one." Hen slung a medical bag on the gurney and wheeled it down from the back of the ambulance. She moved to follow Bobby onto the pavement and all of them took a second to glance up at where they now were.

A theatre.

"Man, I wonder what they're performing?" Evan tilted his head back and looked up towards the midnight sky where the top of the theatre stretched up like it could reach the stars.

This place looked fancy. Old brick building, stone statues outside. Large marble steps leading up to the main doors and staff stood at the doors to keep people from entering late. It had been a long time since Evan had been anywhere like this; if he was watching a play, it was usually on the tv, not in person.

"Romeo and Juliet."

Eddie internally cringed when he spoke before he had chance to think. He tightened his hand around the bag on his shoulder and jogged up the steps with the rest of the team in his wake. He didn't have to say anything. The staff on the doors opened up for them immediately. They knew an accident had happened and they were waiting for the emergency services to arrive.

"I didn't know you were into ballet." A smile pulled at Hen's lips as they all filed inside, past reception and over to the doors beneath the Main Hall sign.

"Oh, you have no idea."

There hadn't been enough time when they arrived for Eddie to scour through the posters outside and find the dates and calculate which play was on tonight. He must have known already, which one was being performed.

"Romeo and Juliet's a play, not ballet."

"It was a play first, Buck, but it's been styled into ballet too." Bobby clapped a hand down on Evan's back as they matched pace with Eddie who was already through the main doors and walking down the darkened corridor.

Eddie turned towards one of the attendants when he reached the end of the corridor and came out into the hall. The lights were on, basking the large dome hall in brightness so people could see and remain or move from their seats. He moved towards one of the attendants stood at the last row of stalls in the ground circle.

He took a moment to glance behind him at the higher seats that went as far back as the eye could see until the very back row would have but a minimal view of the stage ahead. Most of the crowd were still in their seats. They hadn't gotten up to leave or gone for a drink or acted like this was the interval. There was a lot of chatter though, and Eddie tried not to pay any attention to whatever rumours were spreading around.

"What have we got?" Bobby placed his hands on his hips as he stood beside Eddie and looked over at the waiting attendant.

She was stood with her hands clasped in front of her and an anxious, but now relieved look on her face when they arrived.

"A dancer fell, and knocked into another, who fell onto another… we had to draw the curtain but we couldn't move anyone for the understudies to come on stage."

"The domino effect," Bobby muttered quietly. "Okay, show us where they are."

They had just finished another call out and had been redirected to the theatre instead of back to the station. Another ambulance was on the way as they were told they had a few casualties to get checked over and possibly take to the hospital.

But Eddie was glad they were the first ones on the scene. He had been hoping it would be someone in the audience who had had some sort of accident or problem. Knowing it was a performer only made his adrenaline spike and increase the frantic worry circulating throughout his system. That increased the chances of it being his wife who was one of the casualties.

Confusion plastered on Bobby's face when Eddie sped ahead after the attendant, overtaking Bobby who usually led the way since he was captain. Was Eddie a big fan of ballet? Was he interested in seeing which performers were hurt and who he could attend to? Why was he in such a rush?

Eddie internally cringed when a round of applause sounded as the team weaved around the outskirts of the aisles towards the steps that led up to the stage. They weren't part of the act. They were the first responders, they were here to help. These people shouldn't be cheering, they should sit quietly or go and take a break as they waited to see if the performance would continue or be rescheduled.

The attendant parted the blood red curtain and made enough of a gap for the team to squeeze through, along with their stretcher.

"Fuck." The word spat through Eddie's lips and he felt his shoulders tensing up and quaking when he looked around the mess.

He had been on this stage quite a few times during the last month, even Chris had been prancing around on stage and roamed the theatre when it was empty. He had watched the performance, both from the stalls and from a backstage view of rehearsals.

He shouldn't be behind this curtain in uniform.

He darted around the casualties, all laid out on the floor in various areas of the stage. Eddie knew a few of them by name, but there was only one he was looking out for and that one person was, sadly, one of the people sat on the floor in agony.

His eyes zoned in on his wife and he made a beeline for her.

(Y/n) was sat just to the left of the centre of the stage. Her body was jittering and trembling back and forth and she tried her best to smile when she looked up and locked her eyes on Eddie. But her smile didn't calm down his raging nerves because he could see the tears streaked down her face.

He assessed the way she was sat. Leaning to the left with her right arm curved tight around her chest and her hand splayed out on the left side of her chest.

"Mi amor. What happened?" Eddie slumped the bag down at his side and knelt down beside (Y/n)'s thigh.

Suddenly, he didn't care that the rest of the team were here and freely able to see him become affectionate. It didn't matter. All that mattered was that this was his call. This was his wife and she was the only one Eddie was going to put any focus and attention on. He wouldn't be dealing with anyone else but (Y/n).

He reached his hand out and cupped her chin between his thumb and finger, tilting her head back so they were level. His eyes narrowed and his head leaned forward as he scrutinised every inch of her to see what injuries she had and why she was crying.

(Y/n) moved her trembling hand from her thigh to cup Eddie's wrist and her lips curved into a tepid smile when she looked up at her husband. She could see Anna, one of the girls in the theatre group, smiling over at her. She had guessed that Eddie might just get wind of this call and make his way down here. (Y/n) didn't think so. She thought the team would be busy somewhere else, with a different call or a more demanding call. (Y/n) didn't think they would be here, she thought a few ambulances would be sent out. Not the fire department.

"W-we were doing the lift… I don't know what happened, Thomas stumbled and let go, I knocked Lia on my way down…" (Y/n) winced in discomfort and closed her eyes, trying to lean into Eddie's touch but she opened her eyes again when she felt him move.

"You dropped her?!"

A shiver tore down (Y/n)'s spine and she latched both hands around Eddie's wrist when he looked towards Thomas who was sat a few feet behind (Y/n). She could sense Thomas shuffling back and muttering apologies he hadn't stopped saying since the curtains closed.

"Sorry Eddie."

It had been an accident, although (Y/n) didn't know who had stumbled or tripped first or why. One moment she was being lifted, getting ready to twist and lean to jump into Adam's hold, then the next moment Thomas was falling and his hands were no longer on her hips.

She had only been a few feet high but it felt like she had fallen from the heavens when she crashed down to the harsh wooden floor. On her way down, (Y/n) collided with Lia who then pushed the domino effect and caused another three dancers to cause some kind of injury. (Y/n) wasn't sure what went wrong, but their entire performance was now ruined.

They didn't have the time to switch roles and get enough understudies dressed and prepped ready to continue the show. They would have to stop for tonight and refund whoever was in the audience.

Moving her hand from her side, (Y/n) reached her fingers out and danced them across Eddie's jaw until he pulled his eyes back to her. Rather than staring daggers into her dance partner who was supposed to look after her, not drop her.

"It hurts," She mumbled quietly, trying to stop herself from shaking but for the last ten minutes all she had been able to do was cry and tremble back and forth like a leaf in the breeze. Her hand retracted from Eddie's jaw and she brushed the back of her hand beneath her eyes to wipe away the stray tears.

"What does, mi amor?"

(Y/n) hovered her hand back over her side just below her arm but she couldn't bring herself to touch the area of pain. She had landed roughly on her left side and spasms and jolts like electricity rolled through her. For the first few minutes, (Y/n) hadn't been able to move. She laid, gasping and wheezing and crying until someone managed to sit her up.

Leaning up on his knees, Eddie kissed (Y/n)'s temple before he moved his hands out to try and assess her chest.

He pressed over the right side of her ribs first, just to check there were no scrapes or bruises or fractures there. But when he tried to touch the left side, he felt (Y/n)'s nails scratching into his arms and she cried out. Her head tipped forward until her face was buried against Eddie's shoulder.

"Okay, I've got you. Try and stay still for me, baby." He spoke quietly against her hair while his left arm curved around her back and his hand placed between her shoulders.

He continued to press his fingertips down the left side of her chest, counting two possible fractures and some swelling that was already starting to get worse and strain against her thin top.

"Two ribs are definitely fractured or broken, you'll need an X-ray." Eddie moved his hand round to cup the back of (Y/n)'s neck and his lips smothered the top of her head when she whimpered into his shoulder. This would set her back a few weeks. She wouldn't be able to perform now. (Y/n) would have to take a few weeks off and switch to being the understudy until she was cleared by the doctor.

Perfect timing. Right in the middle of their new show.

At least they weren't on tour. (Y/n) hated touring. She hated being away from home, having to get used to new stages and venues and changes in direction when they were dancing. New changing areas and rushing around in an unfamiliar setting when they had costume changes.

She didn't like being away from her boys either. That was why she had signed up to this theatre group. They stayed at this theatre and every two months, they would learn a new show and routine and switch up the roles and perform something different, but stay in the same venue. It meant the group didn't have to change or be on the road and do a different venue every three or four days. And (Y/n) didn't have to leave home, she could still go back to her boys at the end of the night after a performance.

"Stay still a moment," Eddie mused quietly as he unravelled one arm from her so he could find the stethoscope in his bag.

He listened to her heartbeat before he moved it to press against her back and listen to her breathing. He sighed and nodded to himself when he heard her lungs take deep breaths. The broken ribs hadn't splintered into her lungs which was a big relief.

"Shall we get you up?"

"No," (Y/n) shook her head against his shoulder before she lifted her head just high enough to perch her chin on his shoulder.

Tears began to fall from her eyes again and she felt Eddie's hand move to cup her arm. He smothered his lips against her temple and reeled her more into his chest as he dropped the stethoscope back into the bag.

"Why not, baby?" They couldn't exactly stay here for the rest of the night. As much as Eddie wanted to sit and console her and comfort her, he needed to get her to the hospital. "I'm not leaving you, you know. I'll be right here," He kept his voice quiet enough so only (Y/n) could hear what he was whispering against her ear.

Eddie dared to look around the stage and see what glances he was getting from the team. Evan kept looking over at him with a strange, unusual smile and Hen shook her head when their eyes locked. They were all trying to focus on sorting out the other dancers, but they couldn't stop looking back over at Eddie.

He never told them his wife was a ballet dancer. He never said what his wife did for a living and none of the team had met her. He talked about her often enough and so did Chris because he now started to call (Y/n) his mum. Eddie just wanted to keep his life a bit more private, just for the meantime. He wasn't used to sharing his life with the people he worked with.

"My knee…"

A frown pulled at Eddie's lips and he gently unravelled from (Y/n) so he could turn to the side and look down at her legs. She had been cradling her side when he arrived, he didn't think she looked like she was in pain with any other injuries.

(Y/n) moved her hands to her thighs, digging her nails through her pale cream tights until she created ladders in the material. Her chin perched down on Eddie's right shoulder and she tried to stop herself from crying and hold steady as he knelt in front of her legs and looked at her left knee.

It was swollen already and the mere touch of Eddie's fingers pressing down on the joint made (Y/n) cry out and drag her nails up her thighs to hold herself steady.

"Mi amor… it's dislocated. Can I put it back into place?" Eddie couldn't go ahead and do it without asking first, but he knew the answer. He knew (Y/n) would much rather he do it for her than wait for a doctor or a nurse at the hospital to set it back for her.

(Y/n) didn't have the words so she simply nodded and sank her teeth down into her lower lip. She didn't want anyone but Eddie to look after her. She'd never dislocated or broken anything before. Despite the vigorous training she had done over the years to get herself to this point in ballet, she had only ever pulled muscles or tendons. She hadn't broken anything until now, and she never thought it would happen during a performance with an audience like this.

"Afraid I need to tear these."

"Wouldn't be the first time," (Y/n) whispered, trying to force herself to smile when Eddie scrunched up her tights around the middle of her thigh. He had torn enough of her tights over the past few months, this wasn't anything new.

She watched his lips form a daring smirk that showed his teeth before he easily sank his nails into her tights and stretched the fabric until it ripped apart like a tissue beneath his hold. They were fancy, but they weren't thick or made of any strong material which made them easy to tear apart.

Eddie refrained from tearing them right up to the hilt and giving himself a view of his wife's underwear. He ripped the material down the other way until it was torn apart down towards her ankle. He needed a clear view of her knee and this saved her the embarrassment of taking off her tights in front of colleagues and his team.

His fingers curled around the top of her knee and his other hand moved to prod and assess the joint, wincing each time it made (Y/n) lean back or twitch and groan.

"Close your eyes mi amor."

She did as instructed, bracing both hands down beside her on the stage floor and she tilted her head back and kept her eyes tightly closed. She didn't want to see Eddie put the joint back into place and she didn't want to know when he was about to do it. The blood pulsed through her ears so loudly it was deafening and her breath held deep in her lungs when Eddie's hand moved to get a good grip on her lower leg.

A tortured scream pierced the air, almost as deafening as the horrid click that told Eddie he had put the joint back into place. His fingers dug into her thigh and he kept tight hold of her lower leg, keeping her leg resting over his lap when her leg started to jerk and tremble.

"Shh, all done. All done, I'm sorry baby." Reaching his hands out, Eddie hooked an arm around (Y/n)'s waist and shuffled her across the floor until she was sat level with his thighs and he carefully eased her leg back onto the floor. His arms coiled around her and reeled her into his chest so he could kiss the top of her head.

He looked down in the bag by his side before he looked across at Hen who was just finishing up an assessment on one of the other girls.

"Hen, do you have some morphine in your bag?"

She fished out a packaged needle of morphine and slid it across the stage towards him. Eddie tore the packet open with his teeth and looked down at (Y/n) before he pressed the needle into her thigh.

"That'll help with the pain, baby. Any more injuries I should know about?" His hand moved up and down her arm while his lips went back to kissing the top of her head.

"Just sickness," (Y/n) kept her eyes closed and buried her face into Eddie's chest, scrunching his shirt up in her grasp. The pain had given her a horrid headache and now she felt like she was going to throw up. But other than that, she didn't have any other injuries. Thankfully.

"Let's get you in the ambulance then."

Eddie glanced his eyes around the stage, seeing that Evan was finishing up patching up Lia who had gotten away with cuts and bruises and Evan talking her ear off. Hen and Bobby were waiting with two other girls who needed assessing in a hospital. And Chimney had one of the men on the gurney who had broken his ankle and jammed up his shoulder and he was on his way backstage.

It would be easier to go backstage past the dressing rooms and get out to the truck that way than go back past the crowds and let everyone be oogled at.

"Dispatch, this is Captain Nash. How far out are those further to ambulances? We look to need a third one sent our way."

"Y-you won't leave me, will you?" (Y/n) couldn't bring herself to pull away from Eddie's chest. Her face stayed tucked into the middle of his chest, her nose squashed against the buttons as she panted through his shirt and tried to breathe in his scent.

She didn't want another team coming over and trying to take her away from Eddie. She didn't want Eddie to have to go back in the truck and leave her with strangers.

"I'm not going anywhere without you, mi amor." He smiled into her hair before he turned to look at Bobby over his shoulder. "Cancel that last ambulance, (Y/n) can ride in the truck with us."

Eddie saw no point waiting around for another ambulance to be redirected their way which would take a further ten minutes or longer. They could send the two other dances in the two ambulances that were on their way. And Eddie could carry his wife and take her in the truck with them. Eddie was going down to the hospital anyway, he wasn't straying far from his wife and she needed an X-ray and an assessment.

(Y/n) kept her arms hooked around Eddie's neck as his hands moved down to her hips. He carefully pulled her up with him and stayed on her left side to prop her up. She had her knee bent and her foot held just above the floor, unable to put it down as it added pressure and agony onto her knee.

His hand squeezed her hip every now and then and his other hand moved to cup her arm that was looped around his neck. Eddie let his eyes dart across to Evan who was packing up his bag and moved to stand beside them.

"Right this way, Mrs Diaz."

(Y/n) had never been in a fire truck before.

***

Leaning her head to the side, (Y/n) pressed her face into Eddie's abdomen and curled her arm around his back, keeping him close. She let her eyes fall closed and found herself smiling when she felt his hand rest on her neck with his thumb brushing up and down across the side of her jaw.

She was ready to go home. The morphine had worked to take away the throbbing edge in her knee and had dulled down her headache, but now she felt dizzy and tired and spaced. She wanted to go curl up in bed and try to get some sleep.

For the next few weeks, (Y/n) wouldn't be doing very much. She wouldn't be training or getting up early for rehearsals or going down to the theatre. Her time would be spent trying to push herself into recouperating and playing video games with Chris.

Eddie leaned down and kissed the top of (Y/n)'s head before he drained the last of the rather bland coffee he'd got from the machine in the hall.

"How you feeling?" He murmured quietly while he set down his cup and placed his hand in his pocket.

The team had dropped them off along with their other casualty and whenever they were ready to leave, Eddie just needed to give the team a call. Bobby had cleared it so Eddie could take (Y/n) home, his shift was officially over and he had the next few days off to be home with her and Chris.

"Ready for bed." Her response made Eddie smile and he hummed, darting his eyes over to the door when it opened.

The doctor they'd seen when they arrived walked into the room, a calm smile on her face and a file in her hand which Eddie guessed was the X-ray results. (Y/n) had had both her knee and her chest X-rayed when they got to the hospital, as well as having some bloods taken just to be on the safe side.

As long as the breaks weren't damaging or dangerous, all (Y/n) would need would be to have her chest bandaged and they could go home. Her knee was already in a foam brace since Eddie had saved the doctor a job and put it back in place.

"How are we in here?"

"Tired." (Y/n) kept her arm latched around Eddie's lower back and stayed leaning into his torso with a tepid smile. She liked the feeling of Eddie's fingers running up and down the side of her neck before his hand moved to rest on her shoulder instead.

"Well, I've taken a look at your X-rays. The fourth and fifth ribs are broken, clean breaks though not fractures which is a good thing. In three weeks I'd like you to come back just to check they are healing properly. And your knee will heal within a week or two, no lasting damage there."

That was some good news. (Y/n) didn't want fractured bones, they were harder to heal and didn't always repair themselves in the right way. At least a clean break was easier for her body to repair. Not that she wanted them to be broken, but she knew from the moment Eddie assessed her that they had definitely snapped in some way. This just cemented the fact that she wasn't going back to work anytime soon.

"Can I take her home?" Eddie kept his hand tucked into his pocket while he looked over at the doctor. That was all good news and he couldn't see a reason why they couldn't leave now.

"Well, the nurse took a blood sample on arrival, just to rule out any infections and I had to run a further test when I got the results back."

(Y/n) could feel her face falling and her teeth sunk down into her lower lip as she glanced up at Eddie. Somehow, that didn't sound very good. The doctor's smile wasn't calming compared to what she had just said. Was something wrong? (Y/n) felt fine. She had been fine until the fall tonight, that was the only reason she was here. Nothing else was wrong with her apart from her knee and her broken ribs.

She could feel Eddie's hand tightening on her shoulder and he tensed up beside her as his brows furrowed. What did that mean?

"It seems you're pregnant. Congratulations."

(Y/n)'s jaw loosened but she couldn't find any words.

Pregnant. They were going to have a baby. Now she well and truly couldn't return to work. Once her ribs and her knee were healed, she wouldn't have long before she started to show and she wouldn't be able to perform once that happened. She would have to switch to helping direct the shows and give the dancers their cues and pointers rather than joining in the performance.

When she tilted her head up to glance up at Eddie, her parted lips formed into a smile when she saw the way he was looking down at her. His eyes looked brighter and he was already grinning down at her, trying to bite his lip to stop his smile from spreading so wide.

His hand left her shoulder and moved round to cup her chin and he leaned down, brushing his nose against hers before he captured her lips in a kiss.

His fingers danced across her cheek and (Y/n) reached up to hold his wrist as she grinned against his touch. They hadn't exactly been trying, but this was a very welcomed surprise. They were going to have a baby. Chris was going to have a brother or sister.

"I guess we should be happy tonight wasn't opening night, huh?" Eddie mumbled quietly against her lips, barely pulling back enough to speak before he devoured her lips again.

At least (Y/n) had already had two weeks worth of performing this new play. It wasn't opening night that had gone horribly wrong and she had had the chance to perform as Juliet. Now she was going to have to take a step back. Maybe she could get away with one or two more performances before she had to stop when her bump started to show.

"Hm. So you're happy?"

"Are you kidding? Wait 'til I tell the team."

[nebbyy]

Hi! Could you please do a part two to the lester/apollo x reader fic you posted?

Apollo x reader - Eternal Bonds

A/N: thank you so much for your request, anon! Sorry if this took a bit more than the time I usually take to write my fics, but as I said the past weeks have been really tiring for me🥹 

Anyway, I hope you like this fic, I personally like it better than the first part, but as always let me know your thoughts on it<3

Aaaand as always, painting is "Springtime" by Pierre Auguste Cot for anyone interested!

Summary: Having regained his immortality and prestige, all that remained for Apollo was to stabilise something in his life was one thing: you. It might sound easy, but he honestly would disagree.

Warning: it is implied that Athena has a great admiration for reader, but they’re not their child. This reconnects with my own personal thoughts on how Athena’s cabin should work, so the goddess’ relationship with reader in this fic should be seen as the same as hers and Odysseus’ (if you want further explanations on what their dynamic was let me know:))) Also I must say, I haven’t read any of the trials of Apollo books in ages so I took it as an occasion to interpret Apollo’s return to Olympus how I see it more fit to this little scenario of mine.

And lastly, not a warning but this fic starts just a bit before the end of the first part, if anyone was wondering:)

Word count: 3813 (longest fic yet omgg)

Apollo stood there, standing on the elevator that would take him home. How strange, he had dreamed of this moment for months, eager to return to his home and be welcomed as a glorious hero, with restored dignity, free of the mortal shell in which he had been confined all this time. He had imagined himself proud, tall and triumphant as he entered the gates of Olympus.

Yet as he stood on his way home, he could not prevent the continuous movement of his foot against the elevator floor. There was no trace in him of the security typical of a hero, in him at that time reigned only the same anxiety and nervousness that had characterized his mortal form. First it was Apollo inside Lester’s body, now Apollo had his body back, but Lester was inside of him. That Lester had become an integral part of him? Or maybe it didn’t add up, maybe it was always there, unable to make its voice heard under the omnipresent spirit of Apollo.

Okay, maybe he was rambling, but he couldn’t help it when he felt like his nerves were about to make him explode!

The point was, he wasn’t just going home, he was going to convince his father, the king of the gods, the exact same person who kicked him out of Olympus, to make the love of his life immortal so that he could stay by his side for eternity. It was not a situation in which one could easily remain connected to reality.

Finally, the elevator slowed down its run, until it stopped completely and opened its doors with a characteristic "ding".

Slowly, one step at a time, Apollo stepped out of the elevator and advanced to the throne room, walking up the path that would take him directly there. His performance had an air of regal composure, but it was nothing more than a method of masking his tense nerves. He walked until he reached the first areas inhabited by the Olympians and some other immortal creature.

"Apollo? I didn’t know you were already back. We thought it would take you millennia to make it up to Zeus!!" He hadn’t heard it in a while, but there was no way he could ever forget the sound of Nike’s voice. The winged goddess came to meet him flying curiously, also attracting the attention of the entities that had not paid attention to the scene so far.

Some approached, recognizing the face of the beloved god, while others ran to announce his return to the major gods. First came Hestia, who with that loving family attitude, embraced him gently. "Oh Apollo, you were so good! I never doubted you could do it." 

"I can’t say that with as much confidence, but I must congratulate you, Apollo, you have exceeded all my expectations." It was the authoritarian voice of Athena who spoke, who wore a smile on her face, a more unique than rare event. Apollo was so surprised by this unusual compliment from her that he hardly paid any attention to her questioning his chances of success.

For a moment he felt his eyes almost come out of his skull when a large hand was planted on his shoulder to pat him. " Well done, little brother, aren’t you as soft as you look, eh?" Massaging his shoulder, Apollo smiled faintly at the mountain that was his half-brother. "Thanks, Ares, it means a lot I guess..."

He was about to receive the coup de grâce, if it were not for Aphrodite, unconscious of her intervention, she had put herself right in the middle, affectionately placing one hand on Apollo’s shoulder while the other not very secretly found place in that of Ares, to the delight of Hephaestus who observed snorting away from the scene, but thumbs up at the sun god to express his joy.

He didn’t know how long this lasted, or exactly how many gods surrounded him at that point, but when Nike was about to hold a banquet in his honor he couldn’t control his reaction: "No wait!" His tone sounded so panicked that he caught everyone unawares. For a moment the gods almost had the sensation of speaking a mortal, so much his voice had squeaked in the air. Realizing that he had drawn even more attention to you, as if it were even possible in that situation, he gently shrugged his shoulders, to mitigate the gaze of the Olympians his nerves more tense than ever.

"Um I-" he made a false cough to try to regain his posture before starting to speak again, illuminating his companions with a dazzling smile, "sorry, mortal’s pollen, am I right? Anyway, much as I would be... ecstatic to attend a banquet, I’m afraid I must first have a discussion with Zeus about some... matters of utmost urgency! If you’ll excuse me, now.”

With little pomp, he made his way through the crowd stunned at his unusual behavior. "Poor thing, the Earth has changed him." Someone shook their head resigned, someone else did not even notice his abrupt exit, simply saying goodbye and congratulating him as he got smaller and smaller in the distance. The attention to him lasted just before each god went for their merry way. After all, when you have a whole eternity to live, there are few things left for you for a long time.

Everyone resumed doing what they were doing before Apollo’s return, all except Athena. It was in her nature to predict the rival’s moves- or rather, the moves of anyone around her. She may not have been born with the ability to see the future, but her intellect allowed her to come to conclusions almost as apt as an oracle. Silent as night, he followed the solar god, whose aura seemed to be clouded by some heavy burden.

The closer he got to the heavy bronze doors of the throne room, the lighter his head felt, as if his brain had gone numb. He was mathematically certain that he had NEVER felt so nervous in his entire existence. Not even his many figures in human form could compare to how he was feeling at the time. But it’s not like he could back out now, not after all the way he’s come, not after promising you not to leave your side. Not now, that had arrived in front of the doors.

He didn’t even have to knock, or announce his own name. No use, Zeus was waiting for him. Apollo took a breath, pumping his chest to emulate some sense of confidence before making his way into the vast hall. Out of the corner of his eye, he looked around and looked at the empty thrones, each with small inlays reminiscent of its owner. He passed by his own throne, and a sense of longing pervaded him to the thought that in no time he would have sat there again. Maybe you could convince Zeus to put a similar throne for you next to his own..

No, stay focused, Apollo, first of all he had to convince Zeus to make them immortal in the first place.

Without even realizing it, he was so taken by his own thoughts, he had reached the end of the room, finding himself a few feet from the king of Olympus. Now he could not afford to show himself weak, fearful. Come on, it had to come easy for him, he was also the god of the theater after all! As if a thread pulled him from above, he felt himself erect tall and proud, his chest out, his muscular back straight; a slight halo of light surrounded him, reconferendogli a little of that shine that has always distinguished him from the rest of the gods. He smiled at his father before bowing down gracefully. "It’s good to see you again, Father."

“Apollo, I see it took you no time to get used to your old life once more. I trust you have learned your lesson.”

“Indeed, father. And I came here to thank you for it all. It was… better than I expected.” Zeus lifted a brow suspiciously, eyeing his son as if trying to make out what’s in his mind just by his appearance. “Mmh I hardly believe that you only came here to thank me for your punishment.” Okay, even if he had second thoughts, it was DEFINITELY too late to back out. Yet despite the seriousness of the situation, Apollo no longer felt the same anxiety that had accompanied him throughout the climb to Olympus. He felt powerful, confident in his words, in his actions, but above all confident in you. He knew that if ever there was a mortal worthy of immortality, it was most certainly you. He looked up at his father, this time his smile had become less dazzling, almost a little nervous.

“Heh, you’re not wrong, father. I came here to make a request.”

“Depends. What is it that you desire?”

“How do you make a demigod immortal?”

Total silence fell in the room. The expression of Zeus was intelligible, and not being able to read the true emotions of Apollo, moreover in such a silent environment did not help to calm his nervousness. Zeus slowly blinked, covering his icy eyes for a moment before opening them again as he breathed in just as slowly. " Few mortals have earned the gift of immortality throughout history. He must deserve that honor with out-of-the-ordinary feats," he paused, as if to reflect, then resumed speaking, in a neutral but glacial and authoritative tone, "this is not impossible, but I count on one bare hand how many times a mortal has been added to the abode of the immortals over the millennia."

"I am aware of this, Father, and that is precisely why I believe that the person I speak of is the most deserving of this honor." Zeus did not answer. Not immediately, at least. He seemed confused and intrigued at the same time, as if he had not expected such a response. " My son, what do you mean by that?" Apollo could not avoid the smile that spread on his face having an opportunity to talk about your countless qualities, which in his eyes were endless. It was one of his favorite activities even when he was mortal, actually.

"You see father, they are a demigod of qualities worthy only of an immortal god. They are strong and wise, although they are still at a young age. They fear nothing but the limits imposed by Olympus, which they have served since the day they set foot inside Camp Half-Blood."He took a little dramatic pause, perhaps expecting to be interrupted by the divine father, but he gave no sign of wanting to intervene in words; he preferred to remain silent, peering at his son while he justified his reasons for satisfying his will.

"And they are beautiful, Father. They shine with a beauty far beyond that of an ordinary mortal. Even on the battlefield, soiled with blood and filth of all kinds, their beauty always resembled that of Aphrodite and Eros and all the gods of all the Pantheons of this world who possess the gift of supreme beauty." To this the father could not suppress a snort of derision, not trusting the words of the son in fact of beauty, "If I remember well such words were spoken by you also for Hyacinth, and before him Daphne, and before her still such a long series of river nymphs and mortal beings that I lost count."

Apollo lowered his head in resignation, sighing gently before looking up to speak again, "I realize this, Father, but I mention their beauty only because it would be a crime against all that is right to omit. However, it remains only one of the many qualities that characterize them, which none of my past lovers can say. But that is not the greatest reason why I consider them worthy of immortality."

"Speak openly then, you know I don’t like to wait." The blond-haired god nodded and took another step towards the king of the gods, his eyes even brighter than before, inflamed by his longing desire to obtain what he most desired in his entire existence. You, at his side. Forever.

"You see, they have done a great service to the goddess of wisdom and the manual arts. They have done the will of Athena and have done such glorious deeds that they have increased her honor. I myself was able to attend only some of their quests, but I assure you that they were so great as to justify the support and blessing of a goddess so hardly affable." To these words, Zeus seemed completely incredulous. In Olympus it was well known that Athena was the beloved daughter of the king of the gods, who always kept her close to him and always made all her will an uncompromising law. It seemed impossible to him that any mortal had been able to win the favor of the goddess, and he strongly doubted the veracity of Apollo’s claim.

The young god opened his mouth to answer, but was interrupted by a voice echoing from behind him, "As much as the idea of supporting Apollo’s petty whims, this time I must agree with him." Athena had followed Apollo to the throne room, suspicious of his strange behavior. He had to be honest, Apollo literally had no idea what to say at that moment; he did not expect to get to that point with his interview and certainly did not expect Athena’s support in his intent. But this was a real blessing, for she herself could bear witness to your worth.

She only gave him a scowling look, like a silent admonition to avoid yelling at him, pick up your mouth from the ground and be a god, genius! But his silver eyes were enough to relay the message, and after a moment Apollo had returned to his usual divine bearing. She blinked slowly before turning her eyes again to Zeus.

"Y/N Y/L is a demigod of undeniable quality, which also left me pleasantly surprised. It is true, they have diligently served Olympus and have especially served me, and I have let them fight in my name precisely because their wit deserved such honor. If only it were possible, I would claim them as my own child, for only twice in my existence have I met two mortal men of equal virtue, and those mortals were the king of Ithaca and your son Hercules, to whom you rightly granted immortality.

You know that I do not speak in vain when I express my opinion, and that is why I consider them worthy to also obtain the gift of immortality, especially when to these incredibly successful quests are added the love of a god and the admiration of another." 

Now Zeus observed the two with two comically wide eyes, mostly due to the unexpected intervention of Athena. Even Apollo could not hide his amazement from that sudden help, but he certainly did not complain at all. Three beats passed, then Zeus cleared his voice and I speak in a more serene tone than before, though still authoritarian, "Very well, if you yourself, Athena, consider this mortal worthy of so many honors I want to believe you. Your lover will be granted immortality, Apollo. This will happen at sundown, when you bring your chariot back here to Olympus. Lead them with you, and they can live forever here with you."

"Yes!!" Apollo threw a fist in the air for joy, a small habit he had taken in his stay on earth, but soon after he realized that perhaps it was not quite the right place to give free rein to his happiness, judging by the unimpressed face of Zeus, "Um, I apologize. I thank you father, for this wonderful gift. I assure you that you will not regret it!" He slowly stepped back as he spoke to him with the biggest smile on his face, extending his arms and bending his knees in a farewell bow. Zeus, for the first time in what seemed like centuries, smiled at Apollo and nodded slightly.

"Enjoy this concession of mine, my son, and may it remain in your mind as your reward for having demonstrated your qualities, even without the intervention of your divinity."

"I’ll never forget it. They’ll never let me!" With some other ceremonious thanksgiving, which they had little given the haste and irrepressible joy of the sun god, Apollo rushed down to Olympus, hastening as much as possible to reach his beloved in the place where they had met. He looked at a clock to see how much time he had left. 7 P.M., he still had some time left. He ran like a madman, until he saw the entrance of the familiar Campo approaching. He ignored everyone around him, his perplexed children, his disappointed fangirls, his friends not too surprised to see him running like a bullet through the field, with the biggest smile they’d ever seen on him. Only Meg had a vague feeling about what exactly happened, but even if she did, she didn’t say anything and just looked at him smiling before going back to her things.

Apollo entered the forest next to the Camp and continued to run. Lucky he was back in his cool form, if he was still Lester would have collapsed out of breath for half an hour. And then finally, he finally arrived at your rendezvous point. She found you there, gently lying on moss, slumbering from the weariness of the activities at the Camp and from the worries you had freed yourself of the previous day, in that exact same place, when you had finally found your beloved. Apollo was quivering, thinking how you would react to the awakening, among the golden blankets of his heavenly palace. What would you have said seeing your body invigorated and illuminated by immortality. What would you have felt seeing that his declarations of eternal love were not fallacious, but promises that he had dedicated himself body and soul to keep.

He gently picked you up, taking care not to wake you. He invoked his golden chariot and rode with you to your new home. He kept you close, as much as he was physically allowed by the confined space. The journey did not last long, being facilitated by the godly transport; once arrived right in front of the golden gates of the Apollonian abode, he took you back in his bridal style, leading you to his- your bed. You were stretched out just as he saw your skin begin to shimmer gently, its color gradually became richer and filled with eternally vital sap. He stood by your side, filling your neck and shoulders with kisses as he crouched behind you, eagerly awaiting your rebirth as a deity.

In the morning you woke up with a strong light that dazzled you. You thought it was Apollo, who since he had returned to his true form had regained all the lustre of his nature. But no, it wasn’t him; it was you, whose skin emanated a faint light that bounced against the various gold inlays that were in the bedroom. Yeah, you didn’t remember falling asleep in a bed, the last thing you remembered was lying in the forest moss while you waited for Apollo. Wait a minute, this isn’t even a room in Camp Half-Blood! 

You did it to snap up to the alert, but then you stopped when you felt the familiar touch of Apollo caressing your shoulder, sliding towards the back of your neck and passing through your hair, which had been twice as long as the day before. Normally you would have yawned, but it didn’t seem physically possible to experience any fatigue in the state you were in. You felt... almighty. You finally turned your attention away from your body and turned it towards Apollo, who was already looking at you with a loveless look.

"Good morning, beautiful." You smiled though still confused by the situation you were in. Tempting your luck, you took a sigh and then you spoke, your melodic, honey-sweet voice even though you just woke up, "'Chicken, where are we?"

"We are in Olympus my dear. I promised you that I would not forget you, that I would love you forever. And I meant every single word I said, which is why I had a little conversation with Zeus earlier, and well... let’s just say with a little help I was able to convince him to give you immortality." He said it with the biggest and most satisfied smile I’d ever seen on him, and meanwhile he hugged you and held you and caressed you all over his body, as if to confirm himself that all this was true.

You were utterly speechless, incredulous at what this god had just done in the name of love for you, but at the same time you felt a warm feeling pervading you from within, filling you with joy and happiness, as if that of him had infected you like a disease. You held your hands to his face and laughed in disbelief and said, "You’re the biggest crazy idiot I’ve ever met, Lester!" 

He laughed with you, feeling pervaded by this joy that moved him from within, almost pushing him to tears by the power of these feelings. Holding you tighter, she stroked your silky soft hair as she chuckled happily, "I guess you’ll have to get used to the gold and clouds here." " Still better than a bunk bed to share in five."

Laughing together, you held each other so long as you had time, before he had to take off and lead the sun across the sky. Before he got on the golden chariot, he touched your face with his bronze hands and kissed you gently. " I still can’t believe I’m gonna be able to kiss these lips forever, Y/N." You smiled at him before you grabbed him by the shoulder to push him towards you, and kissed him again. " Then hurry up and leave, so you’ll be back soon and I’ll have a chance to convince you that everything is real." Winking at him, he laughed loudly and heartily, a more melodic sound than any lyre or flute.

"Then I shall not be long in returning to your arms, my lord" And so he departed towards the horizon, and you smiled as you watched him disappear into the sky, thinking with satisfaction of the world that will look up to him with longing and admiration, knowing that he will never again stop for anyone but you, once his daily duties are over. 

[q1ngqve]

hi!! same anon here you dont have to take this as a request bc i just wanted to get this out of my chest yandere or at least obssesive averatio where both overstim the hell out of reader (lowkey mindbreak if you're comfy about that??) after reader rejects their advances NOT OUT OF HATE or anything but bc their insecurities got the best of them and either thought the two were just messing w them or they have abandonment issues (i do not have the second one whatever do you mean i am not projecting do not percieve me) no offense to these two but they look like the ppl to mess w your heart n leave you to rot

mb some predator/prey (they both hunt you down after you avoid them both and as ratio wisely said "what do you do with a cornered prey? hunt it to death" AUGHAHSGA) aphrodisiacs, drugging, etc. anyways after that you best bet you'll be too dumb to ever think of something as stupid as that, and sure, yes ratio hates idiots but well..... you will be the only exception given how cute you look all fucked out and broken on their bed with their cocks deep inside you <3

SKLDJALSDJAL HELP i feel awfully embarrassed w writing this lmao scuse me while i bleach my head.

i am very sorry this took so long </3 i wrote this as a fic at first but i lost motivation so now it’s just in the form of brain rot :(

oh no :( poor reader with insecurities from your past relationships thinking every man out there is a liar, especially the two that gave their hearts to you :( running away from them is a smart move because we don’t trust men in this household!

but you forget how annoying they can be when it comes to getting what they want, and they want you (´▽｀) so don’t be surprised when you find yourself feeling scared out of your mind walking home alone and feeling like you’re being watched! or when you find certain luxury items randomly appearing in your room! or the slightest hint of their cologne when you wake up every morning! because you asked for this by running away 😵‍💫

this was supposed to be holiday for you — coming to penacony, but the headache and blurry room before you has you panicking! you best know that no one is coming to save you when you’re running through the reverie hotel like a lost bunny when you receive a letter saying they’ll have you tonight! and if you think you had any chance of escape, you’re so wrong 😖

oh, and don’t let them know that you’re afraid, it only spurs them on! hunting you down through the corridors of the hotel is so adrenaline inducing for them <3 running shouldn’t be so hard though, so why do you feel as if your legs are going to give out any second? oh right, the drink! they probably drugged it, seems like something they would do

an exasperated gasp leaves you when you finally let your body fall, eyes closing, preparing for impact. and the next thing you know you wake up, hands tied above you to the headboard, your body completely bare. you’d struggle with all your might, soft whines sounding at the back of your throat when you spot the two of them hiding in the shadows, staring down at you with those bright, lust-filled eyes

oh, you’re so dead

your body feels like it’s on fire, desperately needing release, needing someone to touch you, anyone. your voice betrays you as whimpers leave you when they stalk towards you, their burning gaze not helping with the burning sensation.

you really did think you could escape! so why’re you here, tied and unable to move? tears fall as you lock eyes with veritas ratio, your fight or flight kicking in when he reaches out to caress your cheek, wiping the tears away. laughter sounds from aventurine on the other side of the bed, you’re just so naive! all he wants to do is to love and break you until you’re a sobbing mess beneath him 😵‍💫 so don’t blame him when he kisses you, he just can’t help it anymore, not when you’re already shaking when all they did was drug your drink and reveal themselves to you after months of stalking :(

the aphrodisiac is making you incredibly sensitive to their touch, which is perfect for them because that would mean hearing your sweet cries of pleasure! you best prepare yourself though, because they’re not stopping until you’re about to pass out 🧎🏻‍♀️ they haven’t had you for months, nobody is going to stop them from worshipping you, not even yourself.

you’ll be so overstimulated by the end of the night that even just innocent touches can have you whining and trembling like a leaf (^^)

“you really think you can run from us?” — veritas ratio

“who you knew you were so filthy, hmm? you wanted us to hunt you down, didn’t you? dirty, dirty girl.” — veritas ratio

“missed you so much, pretty girl.” — aventurine

“stop? now why would we do that? you’re clearly enjoying this. look at you, making such a mess on my cock.” — aventurine

[spiderfunkz]

heyy could you do a peter parker blurb based on him asking you out on the last day of school? i love ur writing btw

✧ LOVE ON A LAST DAY.

summary : someone has a pretty crush on you!

word count : 0,7k

contains : fluff, fem!reader, super cutesy stuff.

a/n : next month i'll be graduating so this prompt is actually perfect omg omg, thank u for requesting anon i hope u like this !!! 🤭 i used the word 'smile' so much in this i apologize

"hey, peter!"

you waved cheerfully,

it was the last day of school. the final bell just rang and everyone is running out of the building yelling, cheering, crying, and smiling. papers were scattered, pens fell out of backpacks, shirts were signed, and flowers were exchanged.

you were going to hangout with your friends but that's when you spot peter at the end of the hall. hair messy, backpack full, his hands were in his pocket, he looked very nervous.

but you weren't going to leave him alone like that, it's been a while since you two have catched up.

you have been friends since middle-school, but as friends do, they drift apart, though you've never lost that spark with peter. you loved his company & he loved yours.

"hi!" peter waved.

you catch up to him, "hey, i didn't see you anywhere today! you haven't gotten a chance to sign my jacket yet. here," you pass a marker.

"i saved you a spot to sign." he nods, signing it.

you smile, "aw, this looks perfect."

he smiles too, he seems to be very smiley every time he's around you.

sometimes he forgets that you can see how much he smiles when he's near you, or how you can see that he's clearly staring at you.

"what? do i have something on my face?" you rub your cheek,

"oh, no. no you don't, sorry."

"you sure?"

he nods.

"you're weirdly quiet. you okay? i'm still going to the same college as you if that's what you're worrying about," you giggle.

peter has always loved how easy you are to talk to. in a way that there's never awkward pauses between conversations, and how your smile makes everything feel so calm and nice.

"i know. i just, uh-" he fiddles with something in his pocket, "there's something i wanna say, if that's okay."

"yeah, why wouldn't it not be okay?"

he shakes his head, smiling.

he passes you a picture from his pocket along with a small flower he picked.

you take it, your hand softly brushing his hand for a second.

it was a picture he took 2 months ago. you remember the day very well.

it was hot, awfully hot for new york. there were no clouds, the skies were clear and everybody was talking about it. how eager they are to take a walk and how excited they are to enjoy time outside.

though you and peter wanted nothing more but to stay inside, but this doesn't happen everyday. so why not try your best to enjoy it?

you were at the park and just finished your 2nd cup of lemonade (it was peter's), peter brought his camera for memories. your hair kept sticking to your face and it didn't help that you were smiling a ton so it got in your lipgloss as well.

suddenly wind came and flew past you. the air felt cool for a second and your hair went all over your face, you still smiled though.

peter saw and took a picture immediately, the sun perfectly leaving a glow on your hair, also giving your lips a nice glow.

"did you just take a picture?" he quickly shook his head, "yes you did! let me see!" — "no! i know you're just gonna delete it."

you finally saw the picture. at the bottom you can see a handwritten note on it. a beautiful day with the most beautiful girl!

"peter, this is so cute. you- you took this?" you asked, he nods shyly.

you couldn't hide the fact that your face grew red. "i was wondering... if maybe the most beautiful girl in the world would like to maybe.. like to.. go out with me sometimes..?"

peter said, whispering the last few words, looking down at his shoes, the doodled converses you once drew on.

you smile, "i'd love to."

he looks up, shocked. "really?"

"yeah! i mean all of this coming from the most prettiest, talented, caring boy in the world? how could i say no?" you smile, teasingly.

peter smiles.

he thinks for a second before taking the small flower from your hands and tucking it behind your ear, "pretty." he says, stated actually.

"so are you going to walk me home now, most beautiful boy in the world?" you ask. he nods almost immediately, "absolutely, most perfect girl in the world."

you walk outside the building, your hand holding his.

"just so you know i'm gonna draw a big red heart around your signature on my jacket."

[soundlessdreamss]

Hi!

Can i request lucifer and charlie morningstar with starlight glimmer!Reader?

So the reader was lucifer's child back in heaven and when she saw what her father did without her..She felt anger and sorrow insode herself.. But that didn't stop of her because she fell from heaven to hell...And she changed her appearance so nobody would suspect that she looks similar to lucifer

If you know starlight's cutie mark ability that is different..The reader can collect people's soul and feed the souls to her clock

Her clock is golden one with starlight mark on the behind..And she can time travel but she don't use it alot since she still has some other abilities to keep in control..

And the reader just went to the hazbin hotel just to stay there and help with few stuff... And vaggie knows reader but not that deep..Charlie noticed that the reader had few blonde hair strings like lucifer.. So she thought nothing at first..

And the reader saw alastor as father figure so sometimes the reader calls him father and alastor just tells the reader to call him father which the reader become happy since she didn't had anyone else at all

So when lucifer visits the hotel how he will react?

I could just when lucifer pointed it out alastor would have the biggest grin then spoke

"Oh?,well she calls me her father!"

I wanna see it sooooo badly‼️‼️

It's alright if you don't do it<3

Also can be called the servy anon?

I like your fics sm<3

Hope to see more of it<3

Have good day/evening/night<3

omg I LOVE mlp!! Of course I can write this, I haven’t got that far though so I’m not really sure how starlight glimmer acts but I did a bit of research and I’ll try my best to write this well!

PLATONIC/FATHER ALASTOR X READER X LUCIFER (sorry if this isn’t how u write it, I’m still new to this whole fanfic thing ^_^ ) Also this is kinda angsty, and requests are open!

When you were still a kid in heaven you saw Lucifer as the best father in the world! He loved and cherished you deeply, you didn’t think he would give you up that easily. Would he?

You wanted to play with him one day and looked everywhere for him but you couldn’t find him. You asked an angel if they had any clue where he was but they said he was banished with his wife Lillth because they rebelled against heaven.

he seriously just left you like that? Without a word? To say you were angered was an understatement. you were FUMING. But you also couldn’t help but feel so miserable and depressed that he just left you like that.

you thought he cared about you just as much as you cared about him. But you were wrong.

After a couple hundred years when you became an adult, all of that anger and sorrow that you had stored you from Lucifer, you finally snapped. You took it out on the angels which led you to getting banished for being rude and improper.

The first thing you did in hell was change your appearance because you knew Lucifer was the king of hell and you really didn’t wanna see him again after what he did to you. (You also kinda regretted taking your anger out on the angels who did nothing to you.)

Your first couple months in hell were agonizing as everyone here was so different compared to the angels and people in heaven. It felt like you were an outcast.

You tried to not use your powers as much but when it got really bad you decided to collect their soul and feed it into your clock. Or you sometimes dropped time in order to collect their soul as well.

As you were walking in the streets of hell one day you heard an advertisement about a hotel and it caught your attention. You looked at the tv for the ad and it described a hotel where sinners can be redeemed if they just try to become better.

It sounded like a breath of fresh air compared to all these other advertisements for clubs so you decided why not visit the hotel? It couldn’t be so bad.

After a couple minutes of walking you made it to the hotel and knocked on the door. You were taken aback as a blonde haired girl hugged you tight and welcomed you to the hotel. But you also noticed Vaggie was there.

The blonde hair girl introduced herself as Charlie and also Vaggies girlfriend. (You congratulated Vaggie in private and also mentioned to not let Charlie know about her identity.)

As you were talking to Vaggie in private after being introduced to the hotel and welcomed she told you that Charlie was Lucifer’s daughter. You couldn’t believe it.

Not only did he leave you behind, but he started a whole family without you even knowing. You were in disbelief and asked Vaggie to not let Charlie know that you were her older sister technically.

You both agreed to it and went back to the lobby. Charlie couldn’t help but notice you had blonde streaks in your hair that looked similar to her blonde hair but she just shrugged it off.

You were also introduced to a man named Alastor and he greeted you very kindly. And before you knew it you guys started growing a daughter and father bond.

He treated you just like his daughter if he had one, he filled the parental role that Lucifer never did.

It made your heart happy knowing that you could finally have a father figure that you knew wouldn’t leave you. You guys bonded over the span of a couple weeks and you accidentally called him dad once out loud.

He didn’t mind though and said that you could even call him dad because he thought it was sweet that you saw him as your father.

As the weeks went by Charlie finally had an idea to let heaven approve of their hotel she just needed to call her father to schedule a meeting with heaven for her.

The one thing you didn’t expect her to do was to invite him over though. Fuck. What were you supposed to do now?! You really didn’t wanna see Lucifer again and panicked internally.

You helped the crew set up the hotel for Lucifer’s visit but your anxiety just rose more and more the closer it got to an hour passing by. (Since he said he was going in an hour)

Once it was finally time to greet him he burst through the door and hugged Charlie tightly since he had missed her, he also greeted kiki, and razzle and dazzle. It hurt a bit seeing how much cared for her but didn’t care for you.

You tried hiding behind Alastor a bit but Lucifer looked at his way when he pointed out the reservations and noticed it was you even with the changes you did to yourself.

His breathe got stuck in his throat and he couldn’t believe it was really you after all these years. Oh how he regretted never taking you with him.

He approached you and looked at you closely before saying “[reader], is that really you?…”

He brushed some strands of hair out of your face before pulling you into a hug. That was not something the other members of the hotel expected.

You pushed him off quickly though as you were still angry and uncomfortable with him.

He didn’t get why you pushed him off, he thought you still missed him after all these years of not being together.

It didn’t take too long for Alastor to connect the pieces since he was good observer. You had those blonde streaks in your hair for a reason no?… that’s cause you were related to the king of hell himself, Lucifer.

Alastor than put his hand around your waist pulling you closer. (Not in a romantic way!!) He than spoke up about Lucifer’s behavior. “Lucifer if you don’t mind excusing me but, what exactly are you doing with my daughter?”

Lucifer seemed in shock when he said that. “YOUR daughter? Oh please, you remember don’t you [reader]? It’s me your father, Lucifer! He had a desperate and nervous smile on his face hoping that you would remember him.

Before you could speak up Alastor cut you off and spoke first “Oh really? That’s quite funny cause [reader] calls me her father.”

The whole room went silent after that. Lucifer couldn’t believe it, Alastor was just playing around was he? You were probably just having an inside joke with him but no, you really saw Alastor as your father instead of Lucifer, your ACTUAL father.

You saw the heartbroken look on Lucifer’s face and didn’t know what to say in response but managed to mutter something out. “I’m sorry, but it’s been hundreds of years since that day happened, you need to let me go.”

After managing to mutter that out you excused yourself and went back to your room in the hotel. After Alastor and Lucifer fought over you and Charlie, (and after Charlie and Lucifer sang the song together) Lucifer knocked on the door but you didn’t answer so he teleported inside your room.

Only to see you and Alastor on your rooms balcony together. You were crying on the floor from the painful encounter and Alastor comforted you saying sweet words to make you feel better.

Before Alastor or you could notice Lucifer he quickly left and went back to his palace and rethought about his choices he made with you. He knew he couldn’t get his daughter back, it was already too late. If only he made the decision to take you with him.

note: I HAD SO MUCH FUN WRITING THIS!! please don’t be shy to send me requests, I’ll gladly write more fun things like this. ^_^

[justmediocrewriting]

okay but thoughts on sanji x reader where she gets jealous bcs he flirts with every woman he sees and she’s scared to confess because she doesn’t know if he likes her or just loves to play a flirt

Tell It To Me Straight (Because I’m Going Crazy) {v.s}

Summary: it was just like you to fall head over heels for a guy at first sight, only to later realize said guy was the world’s biggest flirt. It would also happen to be your luck that this same guy would join your crew — and now you had to deal with feelings and other things that were equally as unpleasant.

Genre: angst, fluff

Requested: ✅

Pairing: Sanji x fem!reader

Word Count: 3.5k

Warnings: insecurities, pining, Sanji (that’s a warning, right?), angst with fluffy ending ❤️

A/n: anon bless you for requesting my husband Sanji. I love this man so much. This actually took me entirely too long to write and I’m so sorry for that, writers block has been hitting me like a fucking train. Anyway I hope y’all enjoy even tho I feel this one might be a bit shitty ❤️✌️

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Red painted lips curved into a smile, hair pulled into a classy updo, high rosy cheekbones, and donned in a dress that hugged every curve just right, the woman was truly beautiful, and when the dim lighting of the tavern reflected off the pair at the bar, you couldn’t help but feel that she looked too good next to Sanji.

It was a reality that was painful but long since accepted by you, the fact that you’d never truly be good enough for the charming man — but acceptance didn’t curb the cinching pain within your chest, or the burning jealousy that flickered to life in your gut and heated the underside of your skin.

You pursed your lips as you watched the two exchange murmured words and laughs, and fury burned hot in your lungs when the woman brought a hand up to swipe painted fingernails along Sanji’s forearm — Sanji, predictably, didn’t usher the woman away, and your next heartbeat was incredibly painful when Sanji instead leaned into the touch.

It was utterly ridiculous, the way you burned with flaming jealousy — and honestly, you weren’t sure if you were more angry with Sanji’s antics, or the fact that they affected you the way they did, even though you had been aware and exposed to them from the start. Sanji was a flirt, through and through, and it didn’t matter if the woman he flirted with was ugly or gorgeous, he just enjoyed the act of it — and this very fact put you in a position where you had to constantly remind yourself that just because he showered you with compliments and called you pet names didn’t mean they were genuine, or that you were someone special to him.

You’d also thought that acknowledging this fact would chase away the deep feelings you harbored for the man, and in the beginning, it actually did, but Sanji always found a way to drag them back to the surface.

Sanji was tall, he was handsome, and he had a way with words that could make any woman melt, you included. When you’d first encountered Sanji at the Baratie months ago, you had been utterly and hopelessly drawn in by these very traits of his, and still to the day, you found yourself stuck to him like a magnet. And it infuriated you from the inside out.

Because you’d never even asked for it, and the only chance at relief had been stolen away from you when Luffy invited Sanji to the crew, and the man actually agreed — and for the past few months, you’d been plagued with so many emotions that it gave you mental whiplash.

The center of this inner turmoil also didn’t help any. From the moment Sanji locked eyes with you, he was spewing compliments and sweet nothings at you, and looking at you with these eyes that made you squirm in both the most unpleasant and pleasant ways; you’d never had that kind of attention from a man, especially not from a man as attractive and damn sophisticated as Sanji, and it was just as exciting and exhilarating as it was flustering. It was no surprise you’d fallen as fast as you had — anyone would, should they get the time to really be around Sanji for a prolonged period.

You had even once considered admitting your feelings to Sanji; the prospect of confession had swirled into your mind the first night of his joining, when the crew was locked on the path to the Conomi Islands to retrieve Nami. You two had fallen into conversation late into the night, swapping muted stories in the comfortable air of the Merry’s galley, and Sanji was so attentive, so alluring, and his eyes… his eyes were locked onto yours, as if you were the only girl in the world, and there was something within their depths, something that had you wondering if he’d felt the same sensation you had when you two had locked eyes in the Baratie.

They had you wondering, entertaining, if he truly thought of you in the same way you thought of him.

But that notion was quickly tossed away the night at Cocoyashi village — because you noticed that Sanji gave those eyes to nearly every woman he met, save for the ones who were underage, and it hit you so heavily that you were not special to him at all that you nearly lost your breath. From that point on, you swore away your feelings for the man, and promised yourself you’d never let yourself be mislead or disillusioned by his flirts and charms again.

Except, things didn’t really go according to plan.

Because no matter how much you acknowledged the truth of Sanji’s flirtatious disposition, it still affected you — you would still feel so warm and fuzzy inside when he smiled at you, or when those soft endearments and compliments slid past his lips, or when he’d softly stroke your elbow to announce he was passing you aboard the ship…

Everything he did made you jittery and warm.

And you fucking loathed it.

“Are you alright?” Nami’s soft voice and gentle touch to your arm broke you from your scathing thoughts, and you tore your eyes away from the events unfolding at the bar to blink at her.

“Uh, what?” You asked, a little dumbly, and the redhead’s brows furrowed a little.

“I asked if you were alright.” Nami iterated, and you took in a sharp breath, a part of you so desperately wanted to flick your eyes over to Sanji, just to see what was unfolding — but you resisted the urge, and instead forced a smile to your lips.

“Oh, yeah, I’m fine. Just… spacing out, I guess.”

Nami didn’t look convinced, and your heart stuttered just briefly when she glanced in the direction that you had been previously staring, and a strange sort of look shadowed her eyes. Thankfully, she didn’t say anything else, and instead took a sip of her drink. Now that you’d been pulled back into the present, you were aware of Usopp and Luffy bickering about making “subtle changes” to the Jolly Roger, and you could hear faint snores from your right — sure enough, when you turned your head in the direction, you pinpointed a sleeping Zoro nestled a few feet away from Nami. Part of you wanted to smile, but the thought that Sanji was still at the bar with that woman dulled your ability to do so.

Don’t do it, you warned yourself, but despite the seething voice in your head, you still turned your focus back to the bar, and sure enough, Sanji was still entertaining the woman.

“Jeez, all he was supposed to do was get drinks. Guess we should start sending someone else to do that from now on,” Nami huffed from beside you, and all you could do was nod numbly, because at the moment your throat felt too tight to possibly push words through. Sanji’s lips split into a beautiful smile, and moments later your ears were graced with the rumbling timbre of his laugh, and despite yourself you couldn’t help the shiver that ran down your spine from the pleasant sound. The sight of his dimples and the crinkle in the corners of his eyes made your heart stutter in your chest, and in that moment, all you wanted was for him to be looking at you like that — to be on the receiving end of that smile and those eyes once again.

Just then, in a moment that was equal parts mortifying and electrifying, Sanji turned his head and locked eyes with you; your breath caught in your throat, and for an irrational heartbeat, you swore that Sanji had somehow telepathically received your desire to be looked at and followed the command, and you wondered if your feelings of burning jealousy and desire were reflected on your face. You forced a small smile to your lips and held up your near-empty bottle in one hand while gesturing to it with the other, silently reminding Sanji of the real reason he’d went to the bar in the first place.

Sanji’s expression changed from confused to realization in seconds flat, and you watched in growing anger as he addressed the woman once more and murmured what you assumed was some sort of departing quote; then he skimmed his fingertips over the length of the woman’s forearm before he turned back to the bar and grabbed three bottles by the neck in one hand and turned on his heel to stalk back to your table.

You tore your eyes from his and downed the small bit of liquid still in your bottle; the bitter taste and satisfying burn gave your mind something else to focus on.

“Sorry about the wait, my sweets. Here are your drinks.” Sanji said smoothly, placing a sweating bottle in front of Nami and then placing one in front of you as well. You tried not to look at him, but your eyes were drawn to his long, dexterous fingers by the light shining off his ring in just the right way.

Anger stirred in your gut at the way he apologized for the wait as if it wasn’t entirely his fault. You bit your lip and brought your hand up to grip the neck of the opened bottle in lieu of yelling at the cook, and downed a few swallows as you watched Sanji take a seat just across from you. Your eyes connected briefly, and you seriously wanted to rip out your chest because of the way it bloomed with warmth.

This was going to be a long night.

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You giggled into the skin of Nami’s neck as you both stumbled side by side; your breath tickling her neck caused the other woman to giggle profusely as well, and walking now felt even more difficult than it had before.

Behind you, Usopp and Luffy also walked side by side with one arm slung over the other, Zoro walking not too far behind them and perfectly, irritatingly balanced — screw him and his inability to get drunk.

The leader of your merry little pack was Sanji, guiding the rest of his drunken crewmates with a confidence and swagger that only he could possess. It kind of pissed you off — but it also made you really, really warm at the same time. And a little wet, but you blamed that on the alcohol thrumming through your system. It was easier that way.

By the time you’d all made it back to the docked Going Merry, Usopp had keeled over and thrown up a total of two times, and had to pull a deadweight Luffy to their sleeping quarters. Zoro was quick to follow their lead and enter his own room, with the assertion that he was going to “get more sleep.” As if he needed more.

“You comin’ to bed?” Nami slurred at you, and you shook your head; you were drunk, yeah, but you weren’t exactly tired at the moment.

“I think I’m gonna go hang out in the galley.”

Definitely not because Sanji would more than likely be there, prepping the rations for tomorrow’s breakfast as he did every night. But by the raised brow and smirk Nami sent you, you knew that she knew that’s exactly why you were going.

“Alright, don’t have too much fun.” Nami teased with an affectionate bump of her hip, and you glared at her back as she swayed her way to your shared room. When you stumbled to the galley, Sanji was there, as you’d predicted, a towel thrown over his shoulder as he meticulously separated a myriad of fruits and vegetables and grains. When you entered, he gave you a charming smile, one that made you extremely weak in the knees. It seemed that the buzz of alcohol had taken away your previous irritation with the cook, and all you could feel now was a warm sort of fuzzy fondness for him — one that you were far too used to feeling.

“Hello, love. Looking for something?” Sanji asked, his accent tickling your ears in the most pleasant of ways. You loved his accent; it just made him all the more handsome and charming in your eyes. You returned his smile with one of your own and head shake.

“Nah, not really. Just wanted to hang in here for a few.” You said, padding as gracefully as you could to the sofa. It took some maneuvering to slip yourself behind the hanging table, but you were able to do so without too much fumbling. Getting drunk wasn’t something you indulged in often, and your lack of stability and coordination was a major factor to that, but your drunken mind was just as unstable as your physical body, and you were quite prone to mood swings — that’s what you were going to blame your next actions on, anyway.

“Jus’ like watching you do your thing. ‘S nice.” You mumbled, and the smile Sanji sent you warmed you from your head to your toes, and you didn’t even have it in you to hold back whatever could be showing through your eyes as you rested your chin in your palm and stared at him.

Sanji turned his focus back to his prep, and he worked while you watched in a companionable silence. As he worked, your mind began to race — your train of thought wasn’t exactly clear or obvious, and the track was definitely a little misshapen, but as always, it was Sanji on your mind. You watched his fingers, his face, his arms, his everything, and you just thought about him.

You thought about the soft little smiles he sent you, about the crystalline blue of his eyes, how easy it was to get lost in them. You thought of the delicate Cupid’s bow of his lips, of the way the parted and formed sentences that were perfectly articulated to muddle your brain and chest. You thought of his hands, large and warm and dexterous. Of his caring disposition, of the way he was always so attentive to the needs of his crew. Your heart felt as if it was swelling within your chest, and you had to force yourself to look away from him lest it completely explode.

But Sanji didn’t seem to understand that you were seconds away from combustion, because he had abandoned his prep in favor of leaning against the island counter straight across from you.

“Something on your mind, sweetheart? You seem lost in thought.”

You snapped your eyes up to meet his, and he was looking at you like that again; eyes soft and brows relaxed, lips pulled into that little smile — you swore it must be love on his face. You immediately became angry with yourself, and instead of answering him, you demanded,

“Why do you do that?”

Sanji looked taken aback, and his throat worked in such a tantalizing way as he swallowed a couple times, confusion written clear on his face when he spoke. Your anger was momentarily replaced by a very warm feeling in your gut.

“Why do I do what, love?”

“That. Talk to me that way.” You said, flapping your hand wildly in a gesture. Sanji’s tongue darted out to wet his lips, an action your sloshy mind couldn’t help but track and froth over. His tongue looked so soft and pink.

“Does it make you uncomfortable?” Sanji asked, and in a show of bashfulness that you’d never seen from the cook, broke eye contact to focus on his hands — which he quickly busied one by swiping imaginary dirt from the surface of the island counter he was leaning back against.

“No, not exactly.” You said, lips rather loose from the alcohol. “I just don’t get it.”

Sanji’s brows furrowed and his hand halted in its movement, and rather than waiting for him to respond to that, you began to ramble.

“I mean, it’s just confusing for me. You look at me in this way, and you talk to me like that, all gentle and kind, and it makes me feel special and like I mean something to you.”

Sanji was beginning to look a little bit uncomfortable, but at the moment, your brain only had the capacity to really take your own feelings into consideration — and right now, what you were feeling was confusion and anger, and you needed the answer as to why. So you rose from your seat, knocking your hip into the edge of the hanging table as you did so, but even the shock of pain lacing through your abdomen wasn’t enough to stop your advance. When you were only inches from the man, you rose your hand in a fist and pushed an accusing finger into his chest.

“And you even had me feeling like maaaaybe you felt the same way as me, but was that true? Noooo.” Vivid memories of the night in the galley, when you’d first wondered if what you felt was reciprocated, flew through your mind painfully. You knew your words were slurred and groggy, and you knew you were spilling everything right now, but damn it, it just wasn’t fair.

“It’s not true, and I know it’s not, because you act the same way towards every pair of legs you come across. I-I ju-just—”

You’d started off strong, or as strongly as you could given your drunken state, but now there were tears in your eyes, words cut off by a wet sob, and the anger in your chest had been replaced by a heavy pain. Desperation clawed your mind fiercely, and you just needed to know.

“I’ve been torn ever since we met — I don’t want to feel this way, but you always manage to give me that hope, only to t-take it a-away again. J-just tell me Sanji, please — tell it to me straight, because I’m going crazy!”

Sanji was completely silent, his lips parted in a small ‘o’ as he stared at you with wide eyes. Your finger was still stuck to his chest, and you pulled it back quickly when you noticed, but you kept your eyes fixed on his in a weak glare.

After what felt like an eternity of silence, Sanji’s eyes softened and his shoulders slumped with the force of the breathy laugh he released. Sanji hung his head, the laughter still bubbling from his throat. You took a small step back at the reaction, confused and heated with something akin to embarrassment, and the courage that the alcohol had given you seemed to have leaked out at some point, because now all you wanted to do was run; answers be damned.

When Sanji glanced back up at you, bright eyes slightly obscured by wisps of blonde hair, your heart skipped a beat; the smile on his face was small but genuine, and when he spoke, his voice sounded halfway exasperated and half way relieved.

“I’ve been pretty stupid, haven’t I, love?”

Now it was your turn to be confused. You knew you looked a lot like a fish, what with your eyes wide and your lips soundlessly flapping, but your throat just couldn’t produce any sound — and that ability was further stunted when Sanji gripped your wrists in his large, warm hands. Using the gentlest of tugs, Sanji pulled you forward until your nose bumped into the broad expanse of his chest, and his hands released your wrists in favor of sliding down to grip your hips softly.

Your entire body froze, skin buzzing and mind drawing blank, and the only thing you could really focus on was the rise and fall of Sanji’s chest, his warmth, the spicy cedar of his cologne, and the hold he had you in.

“Oh, darling… I’m sorry. I never even noticed…” Sanji cooed to you, chin grazing against the top of your head as he did so, and you were definitely about to spontaneously combust right there in the galley. You couldn’t speak, couldn’t moved couldn’t do anything else aside from simply short circuit in Sanji’s arms.

“I’m just flirty by nature, love, that much is true.” Sanji said, and he gently pushed you back only far enough so he could hook a finger beneath your chin and tilt your head up. Your lips were now a hairsbreadth from his, so close that you could feel every undulation of his breathing. Your heart flipped and twisted in your chest, and your skin heated, your gut tightening in a mix of anxiety and arousal that left your mind reeling.

“But all those other pairs of legs, they’ve got nothing on you. You’re the only girl I’ve got eyes for.”

Finally, you found your ability to speak — but your words were still very weak, dampened by a mixture of utter confusion and disbelief. There was no way this was happening, right?

“If I’m the only girl you have eyes for, why do you flirt with every one you see?”

Sanji’s smile was wide and dimpled, crinkling the corners of his eyes in that way that always sent your belly aflutter, and you could feel more than hear his words —

“Because I didn’t know the girl I had eyes for had eyes for me, too.”