#anyway. hope this answers your question enough anon!

[kamii-2]

I'm loving your recent Azzi fic, can you do a friends to lovers jealousy with smut ft Azzi please

hi anon!! i love how all the azzi lovers have found my account and request for her constantly 😭 anyway this is straight smut with little plot

warning(s): cussing, smut, jealousy, angst (?), “public” sex

genre: smut & angst (?)

pairing(s): jealous!azzi fudd x reader

==================================

azzi was staring at you from across the room, barely looking away from you. you were at a random house party, talking to your friends about drama and other random stuff when you noticed that azzi, one of your closest friends, was staring at you and looking sort of jealous, but that would be crazy, right? your closest friend who acts pretty straight being jealous that you were talking to other girls. maybe she’s jealous because you aren’t talking to her or maybe she’s not jealous at all and the drinks are getting to you, you weren’t sure.

your friends had walked away and went to talk to other people so you went over to azzi. she was now sitting on the floor on her phone, not looking up when you came over. “hey.” you greeted as you sat next to her, sipping your drink. hi.” she muttered still on her phone. “you okay?” you questioned, “mhm.” she answered. “no you’re not, what’s the problem?” you asked while setting your drink down and scooting closer to her, “nothing y/n, i’m fine.” she sounded irritated. “azzi stop lying.” you were starting to get irritated too, you were trying to help her but she was being rude. “i’m not!” she snapped while setting her phone down on her lap, you got up and walked away the moment the words left her mouth, she has no reason to yell.

azzi sighed and felt bad, the reason she was mad was because she wanted you in more ways thank one and now you were God knows where probably mad as fuck. she got up off the floor and want to find you, she checked the whole house then went outside and found you sitting on the sidewalk on your phone. “hey.” she said while sitting next to you. you didn’t respond to her, “i’m sorry.” she apologized, “show me.” you muttered. “what?” she was confused if you were really asking her to fuck you right now, “you heard me,”you said a little louder, “show me.” you repeated again to her. she grabbed your face and roughly kissed you, one hand going to your neck to pull you closer. you put your hands on her face and squeezed her cheeks to make her mouth open so you could slip your tongue in.

she moved both of her hands to your boobs, grabbing them through your tank top. azzi removed one hand and went down to your jean shorts, “can i?” she asked and you replied with a head nod. she immediately started unbuttoning your shorts and slid them off, setting them to the side. she moved your pants to the slide and dipped her tongue in before quickly pulling it out. you let out a moan, immediately covering your mouth so other partygoers didn’t hear you. “please don’t tease me i need you so bad.” you begged, she smiled and sucked your clit harshly, adding two finger aswell. you were moaning into your hand, trying so hard to not be loud.

“azzi.” you moaned out while pushing her farther into yourself. she sucked and licked faster, making you moan louder than before. you were so close to cumming, your legs were starting to shake. “im close, oh im so close.” you moaned with your hand still over your mouth. “cum then.” she replied, slowing down a little. as you came es she helped you ride it out, licking and sucking up any of your juices.

“is that a good enough apology?” she smiles, “yea, but let me show you how okay it is.” you replied with a smirk.

==================================

i’m so sorry it’s short and took a billion years to get out but i hope you liked it, anyway i hope you all have a good day/night, love you 💋💋

[be-bi-do-crime]

may we hear any extended thoughts you have about yunzhiyu/my journey to you?

anon, i feel like the fact that i had to start writing a fix-it fic right after i finished and i'm currently 40k/60k+ words in, that already says a lot about what i think... 😭

you have opened a can of worms really. you asked for this

THE SHIPS: i have to start with this, sorry. neither of the two main ships compelled me. gzy/yws was alright, i could see the appeal, and i mean i do like them enough. they're good for each other, i'm glad they're happy. as for gsj/sgq i will just say concisely: no. jf/gzs were very cute and i enjoyed them, yun que/yue-gongzi as well!

THE SHIPS (NON-CANON): THANK YOU GJM FOR GIVING ME SHANGGUAN QIAN AND YUN WEISHAN. THANK YOU FOR CAPTURING THEIR INTENSE, INSANE CHEMISTRY SO PERFECTLY. THANK YOU FOR HANDING THEM OVER TO ME, THEY'RE MY OCS NOW. MY TOP YZY SHIP WHO'S DOING IT LIKE THEM

THE DYNAMICS: now here is where yzy NAILED IT!! i may not have liked gsj/sgq as a ship, but as a DYNAMIC? amazing. perfect. all the two of them are is a game of weiqi and a guilt-ridden tragedy. lovely stuff. juezhi? absolute gold. the family dynamics? so complex and tasty. the hanyas, dianzhu, zhuo mei in relation to yws and sgq? i could go on forever. and any dynamic with sgq makes me insane.

THE PLOT: started off strong and ended........ well. see above (my estimated to be 60k fix-it fic). some parts definitely could have been cut or made more concise. there are... a lot of holes to patch. some lore really should have been used better too.

THE DIALOGUE: good at some parts and too direct at others. a lot of telling and not enough showing.

THE AESTHETICS: 100000000000000000/10 NO NOTES

THE ACTING: 100000000000000000/10 NO NOTES X2

THE OST: 100000000000000000/10 NO NOTES x3

OVERALL THOUGHTS: this is definitely an interesting drama to rewatch because for all the scenes you sped through before, you learn several pieces of information you missed 😂 i rated this drama 8/10, which was carried by its production, cast and characters. my biggest issues were the plot holes and main ships, but otherwise, it's a worthwhile watch. i don't regret watching it for sure- i can't imagine how empty my brain would be without shangguan qian (and yun weishan) haunting it daily 😂

[jen-with-a-pen]

If people aren't comfortable reblogging fics to their blog (which I am not, due to a personal history of being doxxed and humiliated to my irl friends and family), are comments sufficient enough engagement or would you rather that reader not engage with your work at all?

I feel like that came out sounding passive aggressive but I truly mean it as a genuine question and am just not sure how to rework it to sound less snarky! I see this discourse on and off from different fic writers and respect both opinions and think everyone should be able to curate interaction with their fics as they see fit.

Hi, anon.

I've been thinking carefully on how to respond to this. I can tell you're not trying to come off as snarky– which i say as someone who can't read tone for shit most of the time and whose own tone can come off aggressive or bitchy when I don't mean it to be.

I'm gonna address your ask as thoroughly as I can, if that's cool. Sorry if it's a long response. I'll put a cut in so I don't interrupt feeds ✂️

First, I want to pose a question to your question, which I mean genuinely with no spite whatsoever: why are you on Tumblr if you're not reblogging or don't even reblog?

As I've stated in other replies to the post I made a few weeks back, from the way I see it, Tumblr is literally built upon the foundation of sharing creations and content. There is no dead-set algorithm here like there is for Instagram or TikTok. Sharing is, quite fucking literally, caring here. We are able to form communities of all sizes because we share things. Reblogging is essential to the upkeep, and quite frankly the existence, of fandom and communities. Without sharing, our communities crumble and become ruins. We are actively seeing this as we speak: many mutuals and authors I follow are starting to quit writing due to passive, demanding consumption patterns and 0 engagement.

I know you probably know this, but I thought I'd restate it for answer's sake.

To answer the meat of your ask, I will pull from both personal experience and mutuals' experiences and input.

In my own personal opinion, if you are solely commenting on fics and are not engaging in anything else (no likes, no reblogs, etc.) then I personally think that Tumblr is not the site you should be on and, frankly, you should go sign up for AO3 if that's all you're going to do.

And I mean this earnestly. If all you want to do for engagement is commenting, then AO3 needs you because sharing does NOT affect authors nearly as much over there as it does here. In fact comments on AO3 are the literal equivalent to reblog on Tumblr: we don't get any and when we do it's like finding an oasis in a never ending desert.

Now in terms of what mutuals and other authors have said on the matter, it seems the consensus is that commenting without reblogging is a case-by-case basis. I'm going to quote a mutual of mine here:

"...if someone is commenting on my work but not reblogging… I'd say it's case by case. If it's just MY fics they aren’t reblogging, then it'd be a problem, but if they don’t reblog ANY [fics] I'd be more okay."

Another mutuals also put it this way:

"... I feel like there *is* both sides in this sense; yes comments are nice and engaging even though they aren't the preferred and most helpful way to boost writers..."

I feel like both of them put it into words where I struggled to. I will also say that I do agree with the point being that if you're not gonna reblog ANYTHING– no art, no content, no photos, no other fics, nothing– AND your profile adheres to the guidelines set forth in basic Tumblr etiquette (not looking like a bot and not a minor) then sure, comment away.

The verdict, in summary with my opinion and mutuals': it depends on your behavior and your interactions with other works and content.

I hate the word content but I couldn't think of another one.

But, my question still stands: why are you on Tumblr when you don't even participate in the basic fundamental function of this site?

I also wanted to take the time to address the other part of your ask regarding the doxxing and people finding out your identity.

It has been very widely known for (close to) two decades now that Tumblr is the place where you can have an anonymous identity. Truly. I've been on here for the collective half of the last decade and have been on the Internet for a little more than half my life, now, and Tumblr and fandom are literally the biggest and best places where you can be someone else. You can be completely anonymous.

The common denominator, however, is you.

The amount of information you have on your blog is what you choose to put on it. If you state your real name, your state and city, have one of those (imo stupid) carrd things or whatever, then honey– and I mean this in the nicest way possible, truly– that is on you. I know for a fact (from good and bad experiences) that you have all of the power in the world to annonymize yourself while still maintaining yourself on the Internet. That make sense?

A couple of mutuals made very excellent points regarding this:

"...I have a best friend irl who has Tumblr and is so close to the fandoms I'm in, and she doesn't know I write here. I am anonymous on here. I'm suprised she hasnt connected the dots because my aesthetics are the same in real life..."

"...I personally think its pretty easy to be anonymous on tumblr. Especially since usually all we ask is you have that you aren’t a minor at the top of your blog..."

"...it's really easy to be anonymous on the internet [...] you can be an ENTIRELY different person on the internet..."

From that last mutual, I'll paraphrase and go off of another point they made: the fact that you do want to participate and comment negates your ENTIRE arguement because someone– anyone– can find you and your blog through said comment(s).

Your digital footprint is what you leave behind. So if you have your city and state and grade and real name and all this other shit in your blog or carrd or whatever, then you are the only one who is responsible for having put said information out there.

Hell, I've been mutuals with some people going on 2-3 YEARS at this point and the only other things they know about me is my state, general city vicinity, my cat, and what I do for a living. That's it. And we span from early twenties to married with a kid or two.

We are in charge of what we share and I implore you– as someone with a certification in legal information technology– to please educate yourself on your Internet privacy and digital footprint. Please take the time to think about your actions and the information you have online. I STILL do this to this day, even after getting certified and being on the Internet for half my life.

I am sorry that you've gotten doxxed in the past. Truly, I am. It's a horrible act and I hope you never have to experience that again. Please know I am not being dismissive of that nor trying to blame you for said acts.

But it all comes down to you at the end of the day. In general, it's you, your actions, and the consequences of your actions. And if you happen to be a minor, then I strongly urge you to rethink your decisions and maybe step away from social media and utilize critical thinking in order to asses your situation and who you surround yourself with, both online and offline. I wish I had someone to tell me that when I was 14– fuck, even when I was 18.

And I mean it when I say AO3 might suit you more than Tumblr. If any fandom site has more capabilities to be anonymous than Tumblr itself, it's AO3.

Anyways, I think that's all I have to say for you. My DMs and ask box are always open and I am open to more commentary on the matter and related ones so long as it is civil and respectful. I refuse to stop having this conversation.

Thank you for listening ❤️

[skeletalheartattack]

Who was your favourite mario character as a kid, and who is it now?

honestly? that's a pretty tough question for me to answer, because i played a lot of mario games growing up, and i don't know if younger me would've been able to choose a favourite. in terms of established characters, i think a safe option would likely be bowser; he was always my pick in Mario Kart 64, Melee, and Brawl. though in terms of the entire series as a whole, i liked the luigis mansion ghost designs a lot.

a favourite nowadays? i'm not quite sure. if i had to pick an established character, it'd probably be wario or waluigi. in terms of the entire series, i like the Mario Sunshine boos design a lot... but that's narrowing it down too small because i like a whole lot of designs from the franchise, so it's really hard to pinpoint.

[despairforme]

hi toby! ive been a fan of your writing for a long time and the threads you had with your now deactivated partner, lexie, and i was wondering on why does nnoitra keep constantly thinking about grimmjow when nnoitra, himself, cheated on him and thinks that hes that deserving of having any form of relationship when he's a bad person. isn't he supposed to be this masculine guy that doesn't let stupid stuff get to him? wouldn't he just move on when grimmjow wants nothing to do with him? curious.

Ah, FUCK. He sure as shit didn't want to talk ( or think ) about this.

Isn't he supposed to be this masculine guy that doesn't let stupid stuff get to him?

Damn, he sure as hell wished things were that easy. If he could choose to NOT let stuff bother him, he'd have the best life ever. Unfortunately, he wasn't like that. He wasn't sure whether or not that had anything to do with his masculinity though. It wasn't like he was whining about his old relationship. He did think about Grimmjow quite a lot though, that was true. Was he not allowed to even think about him? His relationship with Grimmjow hadn't been some fling. It had been a deep, committed relationship. A connection that had lasted for many years. And Nnoitra had never loved ANYONE like he'd loved ( and, in a way, still loved ) Grimmjow.

First things first - the cheating.

Yeah, he'd cheated on Grimmjow, but that was not the full story. People usually said there was no excuse for cheating, and Nnoitra would agree. However, there was an explanation.

His relationship with Grimmjow had been falling apart. Not through arguments, but through a growing distance. Grimmjow had simply stopped giving him attention. Going without sex had been one thing ( Nnoitra had a huge sex drive, he needed to get laid ), but going without affection had been worse. Living with a person who didn't give him any attention what-so-ever. Feeling Grimmjow's love for him dwindle. Fade away. Nnoitra had ALWAYS feared that deep down, Grimmjow couldn't forgive him for what he'd done, and that that would eventually lead him to fall out of love with him. Having this fear unfold before him had been the worst. Nnoitra had never felt more unlovable than during those months. Yet, he'd held on. Hoping. That maybe Grimmjow would come back to him. Would look at him again. Touch him. Tell him: Sorry, I was going through something, but it's not your fault, I still love you. Of course, that didn't happen. It was just a fucking fantasy. OF COURSE Grimmjow would fall out of love with him. If he ever even loved him in the first place. Maybe their whole relationship was just built on Grimmjow trying to somehow cope with the trauma Nnoitra had caused him. Like a fucked up sort of Stockholm syndrome.

When Nnoitra had gotten a text from his ex, Kyota, asking to meet up, Nnoitra had hesitated. Even meeting up with Kyota while he was dating Grimmjow had felt wrong, but - in the end, he'd just NEEDED to see a friendly face. When he'd met up with Kyota at the bar, he hadn't had any plans of going to bed with him. Cheating on Grimmjow with Kyota hadn't been the plan.

But, when faced with Kyota's kindness, and the straight-forward invitation for a good fuck? Nnoitra hadn't resisted. He'd known he was throwing everything he had with Grimmjow away, and he'd chosen that. Just to feel close to someone. Just to feel good, for the first time in months.

He'd never told Grimmjow about the cheating, but maybe the other had figured it out somehow. In any case, one night Nnoitra had come home from work - Grimmjow had been gone. No goodbye. Nothing.

Why did his relationships always end with people leaving him without a word? Nnoitra had asked himself that many times. He wondered if the answer was that his partners were afraid of him. Maybe they were afraid he'd hurt them. Grimmjow had every reason to believe that, so Nnoitra couldn't blame him. Kyota too had left him like that. Without a word, even though Nnoitra had never hurt him. Perhaps he'd been able to see it anyway. See what kind of person Nnoitra was.

That was the story of how he'd cheated on Grimmjow. It wasn't like he'd excuse his behavior. However, he knew that if his relationship with Grimmjow had been good, he never would've done it.

Then, next - it was the matter of him thinking he was DESERVING of a relationship. This was simply not true. Nnoitra DIDN'T think he deserved to be loved. He knew he was a bad person. The worst kind of person, and there was no way he could ever hide that from anyone ( not that he even tried ). If someone managed to fall in love with him ( it could happen, since it had happened before ), they'd fall out of love with him when they saw his true self. There was only so long someone could lie to themselves about what Nnoitra was.

He didn't understand why this stranger thought he thought that he deserved a relationship. He WANTED one, sure. But that didn't mean he thought it was what he deserved. People usually didn't get what they deserved. They just got whatever random shit the universe decided for them. He'd pay for his sins when he died and ended up in hell. In the meantime... He sure would like to at least feel loved again. If only for a little bit.

Why was he so HUNG UP on Grimmjow? Why didn't he "just move on"? That sounded like some shit advice from someone who didn't understand. It was a cliche to say that, he supposed. He just didn't think that how things had turned out with Grimmjow could be classified as "stupid stuff". Stupid stuff was... When you dropped your phone, or someone gave you the wrong drink, or the bus didn't drop you off at your stop.

Having your fear of not being lovable confirmed by the person you loved the most in the entire world - that was not "stupid stuff". Moving past it wasn't that easy. ESPECIALLY when he hadn't gotten ANY sort of closure. It would've been easier if Grimmjow had broken up with him. Had told him everything straight out. Nnoitra would've preferred to hear him say: I DON'T LOVE YOU. Somehow, being left without a word was an even worse type of rejection.

It was unfair to say that he wasn't moving on at all, because - he was. He WAS looking ( though halfheartedly ) for a new partner. Be it a boyfriend or a girlfriend. Sure, he thought about Grimmjow from time to time, but not nearly as much as he had done a year ago. What was he supposed to do? Forget all about him? That wasn't happening. He'd known him since they were fifteen. How do you forget a person like that? He didn't even WANT to forget. He did want to move on though - or, to keep moving on. It was a process. It wasn't like stubbing your toe and "deciding to walk it off".

[sinnaminteru]

So you liked Danganronpa for 7 years? Thats a long actually. And liking Teruhina?

I want to know how you got into it.

Yup, I got fully into dr mostly dr2 when I like was fifteen to sixteen, when a friend brought the game up and how I would like a certain character in that game. Funny enough I knew about dr1 when I was thirteen to fourteen but didn’t get fully into it because it didn’t interest me at the time. But yeah that grimlin Teruteru is the reason, I still draw fanart of him and dr2 cast to this day, although I feel once I finished that bloody longfic of Teruteru/Hajime fanfic I’m taking a long break from it and focus on others thing like original projects.

How I get into Teruhina, well that interesting to be honest at first I ship them as a one sided attraction joke on Teruteru part but how I dived deeper into it was by a user named marisexmas they are not in fandom anymore but their Teruhina posts were really great they even made the fanfic of Teruhina they coin the ship practically. Other Teruhina shippers thoughout the years also helped my deep appreciation for the ship. It strange how I kinda became one of main artist for the ship, I wouldn’t be surprised if got a know for it but I don’t know because I probably not well known especially in the fandom so probably not ha ha.

Okay, the reason I ship it is because I love their dynamic as a couple there both people who hide who actually are to people Hajime comes off as sassy and level headed but deep down is very axinious about himself and his abilities. Teruteru is ashamed of his roots being from south japan on small island from the country side his accent his whole up-bringing, so he lies about himself and creates this greaser ladies man persona. He thinks will make him more likeable and get the attention of the ladies, but he still supports Hajime telling him he like Hajime for Hajime. Which is surprising given his need to cover his own real self behind a mask perhaps he see a kinship in Hajime or at least get Hajime in a way others can’t. (Although Chiaki and Komeada also kinda do it. It’s not fully the same thing or context :>)

(Also for love all things please don’t being that scene here, I know about it’s not great. But I heard so many times over the years so please no, honestly it pisses me off how one scene wreak a character so hard. Also I won’t let slap to the face/electric shock to my soul, stop me from enjoying it. Because I refuse outright to let a bad taste joke ruin a character and a ship for me.)

But yeah, it’s been my comfort ship for long time ha ha, like literally I still writing that long fic on them which chapter 5 is almost finished in of clean up finally because I finally decided to download use goggle docs to edited my work on. It not the same as using word but it will do.

[pathologicalreid]

hiii I love ur fics <3 I am OBSESSED with the prompt “can you come get me?” bc h/c makes me 💥💥💥 so I was thinking:

reader has been kidnapped by the latest unsub and the team is trying their hardest to find her but all the leads keep coming up empty until one day Spencer gets a call from her and the first thing she says is “can you come get me?” she sounds extremely upset and afraid so Spencer and Hotch leave to go find her. when they get there, she looks like she’s been through hell so they rush her to the hospital to be checked out, all the while they can’t seem to get any info out of her about what happened.

Spencer & reader could be platonic or romantic, whichever you like. (also I was thinking maybe hotchner!reader ? if that wouldn’t be too many things to ask for lol)

I love how you do angst and h/c, so keep up the good work and have a wonderful day <3

can you come get me? | S.R.

who? spencer reid x fem!reader category: angst content warnings: kidnapping, hospitals, stitches, blood draws, catatonia, disassociation, brief mention of sa, ohio mentioned, general cm violence (let me know if i missed any) word count: 4.56k a/n: i have no idea how this got so long but i love the plot of it so much that i couldn't cut any of it! i'm such a slut for the "you came"/"you called" trope that i couldn't help myself! i wrote this with the idea that it would be in place of the m*eve storyline (which means our lord and savior blake is here)!! anyways anon i hope you enjoy this - i love you!

Any external sound was completely ignored as Spencer flipped through the same file for the eighteenth time that day. In his periphery, he saw JJ and Rossi nod at each other before Rossi split away, walking up the ramp to where Hotch’s office was.

It took him a moment to realize JJ had made herself comfortable by sitting on the edge of his desk. She had her jacket neatly folded in her arms as she eyed the file he had, grief filling her eyes as she registered what he was looking at. “What are you doing tonight?” She asked, trying to keep her voice as light as possible.

The question was entirely pointless, she knew exactly what he was doing tonight, but in an attempt to get her to leave him alone, Spencer humored her, “I’m working late tonight,” he answered simply.

JJ’s smile faltered ever so slightly before she shook her head, “You’ve been working late all week, what if you come over tonight? Will’s making dinner. Garcia’s coming after she finishes her system update,” the attempt to get him out of the office didn’t go over his head, but it wasn’t going to work. “Henry would love to see you – maybe you could teach him a new magic trick.”

Peeling his eyes off of the paperwork, he looked up at the blonde, “You know I can’t.” He felt so close to an answer, he couldn’t possibly leave.

“Look, Reid, I get it, but you’ve been working crazy hours for the past month. Maybe taking a night off would be good. You can start fresh in the morning,” she tried to coax him into leaving the case be.

It hadn’t been a full month; it had been twenty-seven days. Almost four full weeks since you were taken. It had been one week since Section Chief Cruz had told Hotch that the BAU needed to start taking new cases, as the trail to you had run cold.

Considering you were Hotch’s daughter, that discussion had gone rather poorly. Cruz had been able to give the team leeway. Both Spencer and Hotch had fully intended on taking advantage of that leeway, and the rest of the team helped when they had the capacity.

Turning back to your file, Spencer shook his head, “I’ll go if Hotch goes.” He knew there was no way Hotch would be leaving the office tonight, the only reason Hotch went home anymore was for Jack, and he was at a sleepover tonight.

JJ’s shoulders slumped in abject disappointment as her eyes followed Dave as he exited Hotch’s office, the slamming of the door enough to make the lingering BAU agents flinch. “I’ll see you tomorrow,” she said, defeated.

Rossi wagged a finger at Spencer, “Go home at some point tonight, kid,” he instructed.

Waving a quick goodbye, Spencer resumed making notes in the margins of the papers that were making a permanent home on his desk. He looked up when Hotch exited his office, eyes following him as he brewed a pot of coffee in the kitchenette. The two of them acknowledged each other with a nod before continuing on with the hunt.

Both of them knew the odds, that you had been gone this long and there was a good chance that they’d never see you again. Despite that, Spencer would head up to Hotch’s office in about an hour, and the two of them would confer.

Eventually, the sun set, and a thunderstorm rolled in, the flashes of light coming in through the windows as he began to consider going for another cup of coffee.

Wiping a hand down his face, he inwardly groaned as his phone started to ring. Half expecting it to be JJ, he was surprised to find that it was an unknown caller. Clicking the answer button, he lifted the phone to his ear, “Hello, this is Dr. Reid.”

There was an eerie silence on the other end of the call, if he strained his ears, he could hear the pattering of rain. He tried to greet the other person again, but when there was no answer, he started to lower the phone to hang up.

“Can you come get me?” Your quiet voice came through the receiver, effectively knocking the wind out of Spencer’s lungs.

Fiddling with his belongings, Spencer gripped your file, “Where are you?” He asked urgently.

You sniffled, “I don’t know. A payphone off of twenty-eight.” If he strained his ears, he could listen to the rain. Spencer wondered if he could calculate how far away you were by the sound of the thunder where you were compared to where he was.

His chest ached at the exhaustion in your tone, imagining you had gotten approximately as much sleep as he had recently. That is to say, little to none. Pulling the phone slightly away from his face, he called out for Hotch, getting his attention and waving him over. “Y/N, can you see any mile markers or exit signs anywhere?” Spencer asked, bringing the phone back up to his ear.

“I can’t see much of anything,” you admitted. That made sense, your glasses had been recovered at your abduction scene. Spencer kept them in his bag with the rest of your belongings that had been released from evidence. “I feel lucky enough that I was able to find a pay phone,” you said, and for the first time, he noticed that you were whispering.

Glancing at the inside of his wrist, Spencer checked the time. JJ had mentioned something about Garcia staying in her office for a system update – what were the odds the tech analyst was still there? Stalking out of the bullpen, he made his way to her office, Hotch hot on his heels.

After knocking on the door, her voice rang out, “Enter, mere mortal.” Once she had recognized who it was, she greeted Spencer directly, “Ah, Dr. Reid, did you need a ride to JJ’s?”

“Can you locate a payphone based on the phone number?” He asked hurriedly, the longer you stood out there in the rain, the more danger you might be in.

A confused look was plastered on her face, but she turned back to her screens and started click-clacking away. “Most def, boy genius. Run me the digits,” she responded, pulling up some sort of database that Spencer didn’t recognize – probably for the best.

She typed the phone number just as quickly as he recited it, turning around and telling him that the pay phone in question was approximately thirty minutes away. You had only been thirty minutes away this entire time. “Send the coordinates to Hotch’s phone,” Spencer instructed, stepping toward the door. “Tell the rest of the team to come in,” he continued, “it’s Y/N.”

Each stage of grief flashed across Penelope’s face as she nodded assuredly, scrambling for her phone as she took care of notifications.

Impatiently, Hotch held the elevator door open as Spencer entered, keeping the phone up to his ear, “Stay on the phone,” he told you.

A desperate whimper came from your end of the call, “I don’t have any change. I found a few quarters on the ground, but I don’t have anything on me.”

“Stay on as long as you can, angel,” Spencer amended. “We’re on our way.”

The rain was worse than he had initially thought, but Mother Nature was no match for Aaron Hotchner. They were only about five minutes from the coordinates that Garcia had shared, and the phone call had dropped off before they were even on the main highway. The dropped call certainly didn’t help the rising tension in the SUV.

“Did she sound scared?” Hotch had asked for the nth time.

Not taking his eyes off of the map, Spencer nodded, “She sounded like she was stranded in the middle of the woods in Virginia, in a thunderstorm, and was using a pay phone as a lifeline.” His entire body was thrumming with nervous energy as they sped down the road, “but she’s alive.”

He didn’t miss the way Hotch’s knuckles turned white as he gripped the steering wheel. You being alive would have to be enough of a comfort to the both of them for now, but Spencer knew what your life meant to your father.

“There it is,” Spencer said, interrupting his thoughts with the recognition of a phone booth on the side of the road, in front of a seemingly abandoned gas station. In a moment of uncharacteristic recklessness, Spencer clambered out of the vehicle before it came to a full stop, an umbrella and jacket in tow.

Hesitantly, he approached the crumpled heap of limbs underneath the pay phone. It wasn’t a full booth, it had just enough coverage to prevent the payphone from short-circuiting. You had jammed yourself underneath it, trying to keep yourself as dry as possible.

Kneeling in front of you, he swept his sopping-wet hair from his face, “Y/N.” His voice was no more than a breath, he didn’t dare reach out to touch you — lest you not want to be touched. A strike of lightning lit your surroundings enough for him to note the bruise that had bloomed on your cheek.

As his eyes adjusted to the darkness, he watched as your lips parted in recognition, “You came,” you whispered.

He nodded, “You called.” His heart soared as you shuffled yourself closer to him, allowing him to wrap the FBI-issued jacket around your rain-soaked frame. “Let’s get you out of this rain, alright?”

Standing up on shaky legs, Spencer helped you walk to the SUV where your dad was waiting, shining a flashlight to help guide you to the vehicle. Based on how heavily you were leaning on him, he could tell that your left leg was injured. Despite your injury, you stepped away from Spencer to hug your father.

For a moment, Spencer felt like he was intruding on a family moment, but he recalled all of the times he had been invited to join in Hotchner festivities these last few years and allowed his eyes to meet Hotch’s.

The two of them shared an understanding look as Hotch pulled away, “We should get you to a hospital,” he said, cupping your face with parental gentleness.

Spencer helped you into the SUV, unable to put any pressure on your leg, you depended on the handles to pull yourself up. As you maneuvered yourself, he tried to determine what your injuries were. His eyes scanned your body until he made his way back to your face, “Angel, keep your eyes open.” He felt as if he was asking a lot of you, but he didn’t know if you had taken a hit to the head. Falling asleep could do more damage. “Hey, Y/N?” He said, watching as your eyes fell shut and your head slumped forward. “Hotch,” Reid said urgently from the backseat.

Understanding perfectly, Hotch hit the lights on the SUV and turned on the siren. Flashes of red and blue signaled to other drivers that there was an emergency.

You were silent.

As soon as they had gotten you to the emergency room, your entire demeanor had changed. Spencer guessed that you had been in fight or flight when they had picked you up from the phone booth, and now that you were getting the help that you needed, all of the fight had vacated your being.

In the white fluorescence of the hospital, he could see how drained you looked. Once the doctors got their hands on you, you refused to let him or your dad near you.

Hotch was in the hallway, talking on the phone with your Aunt Jessica while he tried to arrange childcare for Jack so he could stay with you - the leader of your care team estimated you’d be in the hospital for at least a few days.

While you had been mobile when they came to get you, your energy had left along with your adrenaline, and eventually, the best course of action was to just let you sleep. That was how Spencer ended up sitting cross-legged in a stiff hospital chair, watching over you as you slept.

Respectful of your wishes, he kept a fair distance from you, but you’d be hard-pressed to convince him to let you out of his sight. There were tubes and wires going every which way from your body, oxygen, an IV, and electrodes monitored your life. Boiling you down to a collection of numbers that showed Spencer just how alive you were.

The doctors suspected you had bacterial pneumonia, but they were still waiting on the results of your chest X-ray to make a formal diagnosis. Your presumed leg injury had turned out to be a bruised hip bone – part of a sickening pattern that reflected that of someone who had been thrown down a flight of stairs.

A knock on the window to your hospital room caught his attention, causing him to turn his head and come face to face with Rossi and Blake. Opening the blinds so that he’d be able to keep an eye on you from the hallway, Spencer stood up and joined his colleagues in the corridor.

“What’s the report?” Rossi asked, nodding in the direction of your room, and placing his hands on his hips.

Spencer rubbed the back of his neck before responding, “The doctor said that all things considered, she’s in good shape, but…” Shaking his head to wake himself up, he crossed his arms in front of his chest, “She’s sick and was beaten. Right now, she’s sleeping. We have no idea she was running in the woods, so it’s not surprising that she’s exhausted.”

He continued on to list other maladies that the doctors had provided, dehydration, malnutrition, one cut on your arm that needed to be stitched, and that was just scratching the surface. Dave nodded understandingly, “but the sooner we get to ask her questions, the better.”

Shrugging, Spencer looked over at your father, and then back to you, “When she wakes up on her own,” he murmured, watching as a nurse checked on your IV. He didn’t want to risk waking you up or asking too much too soon of you. “Can I ask you a quick question?” He lifted a finger inquisitively to the nurse who was walking out of your room, scribbling something on your chart.

The nurse hummed in response, raising her eyebrows as she waited for him to ask.

“Do you think the infection has anything to do with her silence? She might be hurting so she isn’t talking?” He asked, it wasn’t unheard of, when people were in a lot of pain, sometimes they coped with silence.

While the nurse might have an excellent bedside manner, the three profilers took note of the concern in her eyes. “The silence might have more to do with her psychological well-being than her physical well-being,” she responded, it was a healthcare way of trying to appease them. Really, they didn’t know much better than the members of the BAU did.

Blake’s eyebrows shot up in curiosity, “Could it be catatonia?”

“In order to diagnose catatonia, she’d need to display three of twelve symptoms. Those are stupor, catalepsy, waxy flexibility, mutism, negativism, posturing, mannerism, stereotypy, agitation, grimacing, echolalia, and echopraxia. So far, she really only meets one of twelve,” Spencer answered.

Shrugging, the nurse pointed at Spencer with her pen, “What he said.” She looked down at the chart before continuing, “Her care team leader called for a psych consult, but we won’t really know one way or the other until she wakes up.”

Nodding, Rossi nodded in acknowledgment, “What else could it be?”

Pursing her lips, the nurse tilted her head to the side, “Peritraumatic disassociation is another possibility, but again, we won’t know until she wakes up.”

The waiting game began. As luck would have it, an FBI agent being abducted created a lot of paperwork, so Hotch was holed up in a conference room while Rossi and Blake worked on the profile. JJ and Morgan stayed back at Quantico with Garcia to look back at what information Hotch and Spencer had been gathering over the past twenty-seven – now twenty-eight – days.

Spencer stayed with you, tucking your blanket around you when he watched goosebumps sprout along your arms. He paid close attention to everything that the doctors and nurses said about your condition, relaying everything to Hotch via text message. They ran a kit on you, and the only solace was that there was a chance that they could DNA match whoever did this to you.

He left that last part out of his message to your father.

As soon as you started waking up, Spencer had to leave the room, watching from the hallway as medical personnel flurried around your bed. At first, he had assumed your aversion to himself and your dad was an overall aversion to men, but you didn’t flinch when it came to the male doctor who was checking your vitals manually.

A nurse peeked out from the door, “Are you Dave?”

Furrowing his eyebrows, Spencer cocked his head back in confusion, “No? I’m not – why?” He asked, gaze flickering back into your room as you scrawled something on the piece of paper that a nurse had handed you.

“She said she’d talk to Dave,” the inquiring nurse shrugged, turning back into your room, and adjusting your pillow beneath your head.

Still confused, Spencer slipped his phone out of his pocket, nimbly typing a message to Rossi before returning the phone to its home in his slacks. Trying to respect your peace, Spencer remained in the hallway, leaning back against the wall as he heard the familiar sound of Italian leather boots turning the corner. “Are you sure she didn’t mean Aaron?”

Spencer shook his head, mirroring the older man’s confusion, “She physically wrote your name out. She’ll only speak to you,” he answered, trying to hide his own pain for the sake of ridding you of yours. If you wouldn’t talk to your father or himself, it made the most sense that you’d talk to Rossi. You’ve known him the entire time your father worked in the BAU.

Shrugging, Rossi walked into your room and approached you with the care of a man approaching a deer. He remained this way until he made it to your bed, and Spencer watched as he smoothed your hair away from your face affectionately.

You leaned into his touch, and Spencer didn’t miss the cue. When was the last time anyone had touched you with love in their heart?

He had kissed you goodbye before you went on your run, just thirty minutes before your location turned off and your usual Thursday route turned into a hunting ground. With what you did for work, you switched paths frequently, but someone had been watching you, or at least, that was the conclusion the team had drawn.

Watching as Rossi spoke with you, Spencer noticed one anomaly – you weren’t speaking to him. Instead, all of his questions were answered with blinks or scribbling on paper.

The two of you went until a nurse came in, telling the both of you that they needed to run a few more tests. Taking his leave, Rossi told you something that Reid couldn’t quite make out and rejoined him in the hallway.

“What did you say to her? Just now?” Spencer asked, his need for any sort of contact with you becoming so desperate that he’d now accept it secondhand.

Frowning, Rossi placed both of his hands on his hips, “I called her piccolina, I used to call her that all the time when she was just a little thing running around the old BAU bunker.” Taking a moment, Rossi pulled out his little notebook and read through it. “White male, late twenties to early thirties, sometimes gone for days on end citing ‘work,’ but she never figured out what he did for work.”

Spencer’s eyes burned at the realization that you had been working your own case while being victimized, he peered in through the window as a nurse drew your blood.

“She said he drove a dark American sedan, making it either blue or black,” Rossi continued to list off, eyes following Blake as she approached the two of you. “Y/N said the car was filthy like he had been living out of it when he couldn’t get to her in the woods. The car had an Ohio party plate on it with expired tags.”

Blake arched a brow at the new information, “Party plate?” She said quizzically, looking at Spencer for clarification.

Nodding, Spencer looked over at his friend, “That’s the colloquial name for restricted license places. They’re given to people who are convicted of DUIs, which is actually called an OVI in Ohio. In Ohio, they’re yellow with red print, and the only state to have something similar is Minnesota where they call them whiskey plates because they all start with the letter W.”

“Well, he’s confident. Maybe too confident, driving around with expired tags and a license plate that already puts a spotlight on him,” Blake said thoughtfully, adding to the profile in her mind. “We should get this information to Garcia, maybe look for people who recently relocated from Ohio with those plates,” she suggested to Rossi.

Rossi nodded, skillfully flipping the cover back over his notepad and gesturing for Blake to follow him to the conference room, effectively leading Spencer to his own devices. When the nurse left to bring the vials of blood to the lab, he returned to your room, taking his seat on the edge of the room – as far away as he could get while keeping his eyes on you.

He looked up to your bed, catching you staring at him. As soon as you knew you had been caught, you turned your head to the other side, averting your gaze toward the window.

Every thirty minutes or so, Spencer moved the chair approximately five inches closer to you, by four in the morning, he had closed half of the space between you. He kept his eyes on you, watching as you stared thoughtfully at the ceiling. You had that crease between your eyebrows that told him you were thinking too hard, and he had to sit on his hands to stop himself from reaching out and touching it as if he could soothe all of your bad thoughts.

In the doorway, Rossi had appeared, garnering your attention as you propped yourself up on the flat hospital pillows. “We got him,” Rossi announced to the room, a reserved smile on his face.

Spencer watched as you visibly relaxed on the bed, your face softened as your eyebrows relaxed. Rossi explained some next steps, but he was only half listening, he could only focus on you.

Once Dave was gone, Spencer took a leap of faith and shuffled the chair to your bedside, “How are you feeling, angel?” He asked, taking up a muted tone.

You stared at him, blinking at him until, eventually, your face crumpled, and you leaned toward him.

Not missing a beat, Spencer stood up from his chair so that he could sit on the edge of your bed, meeting you in the middle, he gently wrapped his arms around you, rubbing small, soothing circles along your back with the flat of his hand.

In the past twenty-eight days, Spencer thought that being reunited with you could fix all of the hurt in his chest, but this, right here, was a different kind of pain. Tears sept through the fabric of his shirt just as soon as they fell from your eyes, and all of the hurt that he had felt before just morphed into a different kind of suffering.

His heart ached at the sight of you in this much pain, so much emotional turmoil that you had silenced yourself. What was he supposed to say in order to comfort you? ‘You’re okay,’ was wholly false, and ‘it’s alright’ felt like a cruel joke. You very clearly weren’t okay, and none of this was alright.

“I’m here,” he reassured you, his voice no more than a croak as he tried to swallow his own emotions. “I’m right here,” he repeated, continuing his ministrations on your back until you had cried yourself to sleep.

With your body in its weakened state, Spencer carefully adjusted you onto the bed, making sure none of your tubes or wires were kinked before settling back down in his chair and taking your hand in his.

Around the time the sun came up, your care team came through for morning rounds and woke you up to thoroughly inspect your status. Once they left you to your own devices – with the promise of food in half an hour – Spencer focused all of his attention on trying to coax you into speaking to him.

Tenderly, he dragged a finger across your forehead before continuing down the bridge of your nose, “I’d really like to hear your voice, sweetheart.” His voice was gentle, maintaining a subdued tone in the early hours of the morning.

He watched as you sighed, deflating all of the air in your lungs as you tipped your head to the side, interrupting his movements. “I asked him to do it,” you murmured, voice raspy from lack of use.

“To do what?” Spencer asked, heart beating a little faster at the sound of your voice. He watched how you nervously gripped a fistful of sheets and looked at him. Only you weren’t looking at him, it was more like you were looking through him.

You took a deep, shuddering breath before you answered, “To kill me.”

The confession weighed heavy on his shoulders, but it wasn’t regarding anything against you. It was in the realization that you had been in so much physical and emotional turmoil while in captivity that you had asked for your own death. That even for a moment, you sat in front of a killer and asked for him to end your life as an act of mercy.

Noting Spencer’s lack of response, you continued speaking, “That’s why he let me go. I begged him to just end it and that took away any appeal for him.”

Last night. You had pleaded on behalf of your own demise last night. Carefully considering his next words, Spencer met your eyes and replied, “That must’ve taken a lot of courage.”

You faltered for a moment, evidently not having expected those words from him, “What are you talking about?”

It made sense to him now, why you wouldn’t talk to him or your dad. He felt like such a fool. You had been ashamed because you felt like your abductor had diminished your worth by breaking you down. Spencer knew better, “You stood your ground. You faced your own death, and you chose that over further suffering. Dying isn’t an undignified act, no matter how it comes upon you,” he reminded you, smoothing your hair away from your face as he watched your lip quiver.

“Thank you for staying,” you croaked as emotion closed your throat.

Spencer hummed thoughtfully, swiping a rogue tear from your cheek, “You’re not getting rid of me that easily.”

[greatooglymooglyyy]

Heyyyyy

I suck at coming up with requests but I want stories so bad lmfao 😭✋

Anyways, I saw that you were looking for requests and decided to throw one over.

Could you do a story that has to do with Matt and a reader who is really artsy and will straight up draw on his arms and color in his tattoos at the most random times?

Hope thats not too terrible an attempt at a concept lol, thanks

🦥

You Drew Stars (M.S.)

contains: fluff, kissing, general teethrotting sweetness, 900+ words

a/n: anon do you even remember requesting this? lmao listen i love you. this is a bit different from what you said butttt i tried.

“You sure you won’t be bored?” Matt asks as he settles in his gaming chair, looking over his shoulder to where I’m seated.

I smile over at him and shake my head at the question. It's one he asks every time he starts a stream when I’m around. “I’m sure. But are you sure it’s okay if I paint in here?”

After I fell asleep waiting for him to finish a game last week, Matt came home with an unreasonable amount of art supplies. I’d been watching Bob Ross videos on repeat for a couple of months- What can I say? He’s a gateway drug- and he thought I'd like to try painting for myself.

“Of course you can. That’s like the whole point.” Matt answers with a smile. I readjust the sheet under me anyway before I squeeze a small amount of paint onto my palette.

As I start to sketch out an outline with a pencil, I hear Matt start his stream and greet everybody. He starts his game up and begins to explain where he is in his game so I pop in one of my airpods and try to focus. After about twenty minutes, Matt swivels his chair around quickly and I look up at the sound.

“What’s on my floor?” He reads out with a laugh making me realize I hadn’t thought to check if I was in the frame. But it's too late now and I’m not about to crawl across the floor so I pop my head up and wave. “Hi, chat.”

He gestures out for me so I stand and go to his side, letting him wrap an arm around my waist. I lean into him, resting my head against his, while I read. “I was painting but I’m just a beginner. It’s not good yet.”

“That’s not true,” Matt says, holding up his phone and showing off his lock screen. It's a picture of a drawing I did on his back a couple of days ago. We’d been watching a movie in his bed when he fell asleep so I’d taken the opportunity to paint Charmander. “She did this in like an hour. I didn’t want to wash it off.”

I roll my eyes at him and squint at the chat trying to pick out a comment to respond to. “Do another one? I should when he’s done streaming.” I say with a smile, going to pull away and lay back on the floor.

“You can do it now,” Matt says, pulling me back to him. “Go get the other chair. I’ll stay still.”

I give him a look of disbelief. “You can’t sit still and stream.”

“I only need one arm. C’mon.” He says, moving me gently out of his way so he can scoot his chair over.

Well, I guess this is happening. I shrug and do what he says, collecting my art supplies and rolling the spare chair over to him.

I decide to try painting tiny planets because they seem easy enough and they fill in the gaps between his tattoos. He smiles when I begin, muttering about it tickling, but then turns his attention back to the game.

To his credit, he does try to keep his promise and stay still, only jumping up or making a big disturbance a couple of times. When I’m done, I sit back and stare at his arm. It’s kind of cute when you turn your head and squint.

Noticing I’m not painting anymore, Matt looks down at his arm and gasps dramatically. “Look, guys.” He says, carefully lifting his arm to show his stream.

I cover my face with my hands and shake my head. “You’re so embarrassing.”

He nods at where his phone lies between us. “Take a picture before I accidentally fuck it up.”

*******************************************

A week later, I’m still being tagged in edits of us from the stream. Currently, I’m lying on my stomach, kicking my feet and giggling over the comments on a new one. ‘The way he looks at her. God, when will it be my turn.’ As if my ego needed more stroking. Just as I like one asking if I can fight, Matt’s door opens and I look up. I hadn’t even heard them come home.

“Hi, baby.” He says as he pulls off his shirt and opens his closet. My face screws up when I notice his arm has been wrapped in saran wrap. “Hey. You got a new tattoo? You didn’t tell me.”

Usually, the night before he gets a tattoo, he googles images to have a good idea of what he wants. We stay up for hours looking through drafts together so I’m a little sad he didn’t want my input this time.

Matt grins at me, coming over to sit on the bed. “It was a surprise.” He starts to unwrap his arm, wincing slightly, and my jaw drops when I recognize what it is.

With as light a touch as I can manage, I smooth my fingers over the tiny drawings of Saturn and Venus. My eyes start to water as I look up to meet his eyes. “You got my painting.”

“I did.” He says, leaning in close and placing a kiss on my jawline.

“Why?” I ask, in equal parts wonder and bewilderment. “You said you want to fill that gap with something special.”

He pulls back and raises his brows. “It is special. My girl drew it for me.”

🏷️/ @sttzee @tillies33ssss @miloisdone1 @sstvrnioloo @junnniiieee07 @sturnioloslurps @mrsmiagreer @asturniolos

@teapartyprincess4two @whicked-hazlatwhore @sukiipjs @accio326 @sturniolosmind @imfromthediningtable @rootbeerworshiper @st4rswrld @thvvluvr @sturnssmuts @littlenerdybee @sturniolossss @iloveneilperry @eclipzw @chrissloverrrrrrr16 @sstvrnioloo

@clemlament @fwskullz @luv4kozume

[kirain]

Why would you pick Gale over Astarion? Man's a walking 🚩

Okay. 😒

This is the third anonymous message I've received regarding my Gale romance, and I genuinely don't get it. This isn't even a Gale-oriented blog, plus I've already answered it. I like him better. That's all there is to it. I've seen other users get hit with this question, too; as if Astarion's the only "right" choice, and it's never even warranted. I haven't said a bad word about Astarion or anyone who romances him, but the irony of you calling Gale a red flag, then shaming me for not choosing Astarion is mind-blowing. If Gale's a red flag, Astarion's an entire bunting.

Since you've pushed me, I would rather romance any of these NPCs before canonically choosing the vampire:

Hope that answers your question, anon. 👌

I was trying not to let it happen, but this fandom has effectively ruined any appreciation I might've had for the character. At this point, I'm just sick of hearing about him, especially in comparison to Gale. Everything isn't about Astarion, anon. Believe it or not, there are other really great characters, but fans like you just can't get through the day without propping him up above all others.

A few hours ago, as I was considering how to respond to this message, I bumped into this drama on a post about Shadowheart. Long story short, the uploader made a positive video where their Tav hugs Shadowheart during her personal quest, then someone came in to talk about how Astarion is "so much better" and expressed their desire to hug him during his personal quest.

Enough is enough. Seriously. I could go on and on about why Gale is actually a green flag, but I feel like I've done that extensively on this blog. And people like you will probably just disregard it anyway, because you don't like him. At the end of that day, that's really your motivation behind this, isn't it? You don't like Gale and you feel invalidated by people who do. I'm sorry, but that's a you problem. Don't go after people just because they prefer a different character. It's ridiculous.

And you know what the saddest part of this is? Astarion was next on my list to be romanced. I made a cute half-elf Durge character just for him. I wanted to do a redeemed run, since I've heard it's really rewarding ... but now I kind of don't care. Thanks for that, anon.

[tender-rosiey]

hi hii (　；∀；) since its geto suguru's birthday today (03 february), could i pretty please with a cherry ontop kindly request something about it? can be suggestive or fluffy!!! bonus points if satoru's teasing him all the way through because we love an annoying bestfriend

in bloom — geto suguru x gn!reader

a/n: what’s with me writing hurt/comfort for characters’ bdays—forgive me anon, but I have decided to make him suffer a little first 🙏 and hey I am late again but what’s new 🧍‍♀️

suguru wouldn’t exactly call himself someone who views the world in a poetic way.

he doesn’t concern himself with the meaning of the sun’s particular position behind the clouds today or the darkness of the sky that seems to mesh with the rays of the sunset.

it all seems a little too complicated for his liking.

nature is to be loved, of course, he thinks, but he just isn’t the type to go into details about it.

he just lets out a small hum of appreciation and a thankful sigh about yet another day accompanied with a good weather and a sun that doesn’t burn his skin but warms it just right.

that’s enough he thinks.

but right now? he sure hoped that nature was the topic that occupied his mind instead of the incessant sound of clapping.

it plays on a loop, and when he thinks that it stopped—even for a second—he starts hearing it in the rhythm of anything around him.

he wants to rid himself of all this misery and being sentenced to relive this event in every time of the day. he desperately wants to forget it all, but he halts.

wouldn’t forgetting it disrespect those who have passed? disrespect the tears and blood spilled? disrespect the pain that his best friend had to go through alongside him?

wouldn’t mean that he is treating the friends who died along the way as a burden that he needs to dispose of? but if forgetting is disrespectful then the remembrance is devastative.

what does he do? does he act on it? does he forget it or not? or does he tried to find a solution, a way to rid everyone of this burden—but then he halts yet again. it feels too much. it is too much.

so he does what he thinks is best and he pushes it aside, neither forgetting or remembering it endlessly—as much as he can.

a bit of time passes, summer bursts through the door, and he has never hated it so much.

the sun is scathing to his skin, and the sweat makes him feel disgusting like those in the star plasma group. but the shower is a place that he fear? hates? despises? loathes?

the shower head never failed to let out drops in a rhythm that wickedly mirrored that of the claps of the people in that cult.

he notices the worried glances of his friends—those he sees anyway—and he appreciates those who ask about him when they get the chance to—satoru. still, he feels suffocated, and he keeps wondering just what will set him free from all of this.

in what form will salvation come in?

it came discreetly, that’s what he knows, but he doesn’t know when.

he doesn’t know when he started to seek the sun’s heat more, the darkness’ quietness, or the fields behind his school, especially the fields behind the school. flowers are nice, but what role do they play?

they simply just exist. they do nothing effective to help him with solving his inner turmoil, so why does he sit in the field, gently playing with the petals of an iris?

it’s a lot of questions. he knows. he is also searching for answers.

and salvation? he doesn’t expect it to come in the form of you.

he doesn’t know when you made your way into his heart, and he knows that he started looking forward to your “good morning, geto!” to transform into a “good morning, suguru?”

maybe because he cared about you, but why does he do that? then he remembers some stuff. they’re minor, but they are what he remembers at the moment, and he thinks they’re enough.

he remembers the worried glances of his friends—you—and he appreciates those who ask about him when they get the chance to—you then satoru.

he starts to remember how you followed him and never left him to his thoughts, always considerate of his feelings and asking him to convey what he truly wanted.

like that one time you going to buy meals for everyone. after you asked everyone their preferences, you went to him—leaving him for last and at the time, he remembers feeling a little offended because why?

you asked the same question that you asked to everyone, “what would you like to eat?”

and he replied with his constant at that time, “i am not that hungry, but satoru probably wants something sweet so you can get him kikufuku.”

“I already asked gojo what he wants. what do you want to eat?”

he stills for a moment, and he opens his mouth to speak, but no words come out. you roll your eyes with a smile, ignoring his malfunctioning, and ask him something else, “what’s your favorite food?”

he blinks before murmuring softly, “zaru soba.”

“see? that wasn’t so hard, was it?” you smile and ruffle his before running away yelling, “the best zaru soba is on the way!”

in that moment, he couldn’t help softening his expression and the small smile that appeared.

another thing that he had assumed is that this journey through these thoughts would be a solo one.

last thing he expected was you dragging him out to the roof  of the school before asking him right away, “what’s on your mind?”

he resists. it’s not your burden to shoulder, and, frankly, it’s none of your business, so why should he tell you?

so he doesn’t and replies lightly, “nothing.”

for some reason, when your expression becomes ridden with sympathy and sadness and your hands gently hold his own, he feels something.

your thumb rubs his hand soothingly as you murmur, “it’s okay; you don’t have to say anything just—“ you take a deep breath “—just know that I am here for you, and I am trying to understand—“

“why?”

your eyes travel to his face, and he is barely keeping it together.

“why did she have to go through that? why were they delighted in her deaths?”

you listened to all his questions and thought of answers together. words never stopped flowing from him, and you never stopped indulging him. he remembers that first ray of sun that hit his eyes.

he had been spilling his emotions till sunrise, and you stayed. you weren’t talking to him like he is crazy either. you discussed it through and through.

you stayed, and you were trying to understand.

then he figures out that you frequent the fields behind the school. you tell him that you go there because sometimes you just need a break from everything that surrounds jujutsu and the school itself.

he finds himself agreeing that, yes, sometimes we need a break.

at some point,  he finds himself going there with you. the two of you talked about anything, not just the thoughts that plagued his mind (plagued?). 

satoru bugs him about where he goes after school, but he tells him nothing. he feels that letting the secret of the fields being known by anyone other than you two makes it lose something to him.

gradually, he starts going there before you. while he waits, he finds himself thinking about how the sky is brighter nowadays. maybe it’s the seasons or some kind science stuff that satoru is into.

he laughs off the thought then he begins to see your figure approaching the field, slowly but surely.

he takes in your shocked face then the smile that creeps up your face. suddenly, the sun shone brighter, but a small breeze kept him cool.

that’s when he realized that spring has entered, and the daffodils are finally in bloom.

taglist: @magenta-cat-drawingss @pompompurin1028 @scul-pted @requiem626k @nameless-shrimp @sonder-paradise @jessbeinme15s-notebook @todorokichills @ginneko @missrown @shrynkk @simplyxsinned @beautiful-is-boring @starlostlaiba @izukus-gf @irethepotato @thekaylahub @dazaisbloodybandages @aeanya @sweetcloudsimp @moon-catto @the-midnightskies@pianopuppygirl @gojosblackqueen @kryscent @kunikida-simp @whoami-72 @mx-0-child @fiona782 @kisakitwister @imjustasimpxd @psychopotatomeme @dreamcastgirl99 @watyousayin @doobiebochana @laylasbunbunny @hojicha-expresso @4sat0ruu @nineooooo @chuuyasboots @alekssashka7 @rieejjyubi02 @satoryaa @nothisispatrick300 @fallencrescentmoon @etheviese @ho34gojo @the-mom-friend-dot-com @the-weeping-author @stray-npc @libbyistired @anon1412 @anakalana @maehemthemisfit @satorustar @b4nka1 @sad-darksoul @ko-fi-heart @pumpkindudeishere @suyaaachin @babyqueen17 @chaosguy352 @murakami-kotone @sukun4ryomen @yumieis @hearts4itoshi @sleepyxxhead @dunixxd @sleepycrybbylaiah @imjustaduckwholikesbread @emilyyyy-08 @spacebaby1 @arabellatreaty @viscade

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do not copy or plagiarize or you will be reported

[ghouljams]

Hi! Surprisingly shy anon here, brave enough to share some more brain rot. As always, no need to answer if you don’t feel like it and love everything you write! Also the c.ai thing is a bit messed up :/ not to dunk on the people who asked, but c’mon.

Anyway, the brain rot. This time is about The Ghost Distribution System™. So, let’s say it’s been a bit of back and forth, you accepting whatever help Simon offers, not questioning much by now, and repaying it with whatever kind and domestic gesture. (Like some warm and nice homemade dinner or some cuddles while watching a movie, idk.)

And you know, time passes, seasons come and go and oops, there’s a snowstorm, you get snowed into your house. But before you even have time to worry about the few days you have before you need to do groceries or get out of the house for whatever reason, poof Simon’s there, shovel in hand and clearing your entrance and driveway.

Once he’s done you, as always, invite him in to thank him and offer him a nice warm shower. You insist on him using your bathroom and not the guest one, the dial for the temperature in the guest shower doesn’t work too well (and Simon takes a mental note of that to fix it another day).

Imagine his surprise when he comes out of the shower and instead of finding his damp clothes from shoveling in the snow they are all warm and dry, neatly folded and so obviously just taken out from the dryer. Not only that, but when he’s all dressed and warm an cozy, he walks out of the room and notices this amazing smell.

And there you are in the kitchen, finishing up and amazing warm meal that you made while he finished shoveling and took a shower. Smile when you see him walk into the kitchen and say that it’ll be done soon.

Yeah… there’s no way he’s leaving.

Your shower. Your personal, sacred, space. Ghost doesn't argue with the offered kindness, doesn't blink when you tell him to leave his clothes out so you can dry them off. He's used to following orders, less used to being taken care of. Maybe that's why he's so desperate to take care of you in turn, show you that he can carry his weight and yours. It's bitterly cold shoveling out a path for you, but never thankless. Not when you pull him inside with quiet concern and direct him to your room, your shower, with all the softness that you enjoy on a daily basis.

He spares your bed a glance, the crumpled duvet and heavy quilts, the pile of pillows, all unmade and well lived in. He almost feels bad leaving his snow damp clothes on it. Feels worse for imagining you sleeping in it, your breath soft, your body vulnerable, maybe one day you'd let him stay the night, let him sit at the foot of your bed like a guard while you sleep.

He's been so good, he hasn't thought of you as anything but the divine, hasn't looked at you with lustful eyes. So why does he grip the towel hanging up next to your shower? Why does he lift it to his nose to try and find your scent? Why does he close his eyes and imagine the fabric dragging over your body, open them to stare at the shower and wish you were in it with him? Why does he see sin when he twists the water to hot? Why does he fist his cock and press his forehead against the cool tile? You're his god, his divine, he shouldn't debase you with such thoughts.

But this is your space, your sanctuary. It's your shampoo he washes through his hair, your body wash he scrubs against his skin, your scent that he hopes desperately will replace his own. Yet when he comes with your washcloth pressed to the head of his cock, he hopes you'll rub some of his scent into your skin as well. He spends longer in the shower than he hoped, stands under the water until it's as cold as the snow he just shoveled. Penitence for his thoughts, punishment for his actions.

And then to find his clothes still warm, neatly folded on your bed. You're a merciful god, always. He can't hope to keep up with your kindness, can only attempt to match the warmth you show him. That's why he has to keep working, has to keep proving himself a devoted follower. He can't rest in your kitchen, eat your food, steal your smiles, without offering some part of himself in return. You've offered him salvation, what could he ever give you to match that?

[froggibus]

Hey can I request headcanons for overwatch characters and if their gf was drunk and asked them "would you still love me if I was a worm" with the overwatch men please (you don't have to do all of them but PLEASE include McCree and Reaper)

“Would You Still Love Me If I Was A Worm?” - Overwatch Boys

Includes: Cassidy, Reaper, Genji, Zenyatta, Ramattra, Hanzo, Lucio + Baptiste (w gn! reader)

Genre: fluff/kinda crack?

CW: general crack, kinda dumb tbh, suggestive in Genji and Baps, Ram is Ram (lmk if I missed anything)

been in a little bit of a writing slump but this was too good to pass up lol. I want to get a bit more writing done this week so who knows how that will go. anyway, enjoy <3 hope you like it anon!

————

Cassidy:

“what kinda question is that??”

looks at you in flabbergastation 

you pout and bat your eyes at him and of course, he breaks 

“you’re really not gonna let this go, huh? alright—of course I’d still love you, darlin’. I’d keep you in a lil jar and you could accompany me on my missions”

a jar????

now you’re the flabbergasted one 

jars don’t have air—he’s gonna let you suffocate?? 

what are you?? rainbow dash (sorry)??

somehow leads to him going out into the yard despite it being the middle of the night to try and find a worm

somehow finds one?? 

keeps it in a jar as a pet just to prove he would love you as a worm

even names it after you and pets it’s head and calls it “my wriggly little y/n”

weirdly wholesome experience would try again

Reaper

“of all the stupid shit you could have asked me…”

he says that but he’s already considering it after the question leaves your mouth 

would he love you as a worm? 

“what kind of worm”

what do you mean what kind of worm?? does it matter?? 

obviously the pink wriggly kind 

he has to ponder this 

sits in his chair stroking his chin trying to think of how you would be as a worm

“would you still be able to talk and think or would you be an actual worm”

????

“it would be me if I was a worm, Gabe”

more pondering 

“I’d love you platonically but you would probably have a short life span. I’d throw you a worm funeral.”

better than any response you could have expected but would not try again

Genji

“would we still have sex”

please hit this man

he’s joking of course—he’s not that weird 

“why would you be a worm tho”

just answer the question, Genji

green cyborg ninja dude has no idea what to answer 

will you be mad if he loves your worm self more than your current self?? would you be weird if he said he would love a wormy version of you??

“I would get myself turned into a worm too and then we could have a wormy life together and a wormy wedding and little wormy kids”

“you just want to have wormy sex” >~>

“that too”

at least he’s honest?

exactly as you expected, would not try again

Zenyatta

“a worm? like the insect?”

“yes? what other worms are there”

considers this

“is everything okay?”

poor omnic boy is so confused. are you planning on turning into a worm??? 

please reassure him it’s just a hypothetical and you’re not turning into a worm

goes on a ten minute tangent about how we are all the same in the Iris, and that he will love you no matter what form you take

honestly so wholesome + cute 

“i will care for you in this life, and the next, and all of the ones after that. even the ones where you are a worm.”

good enough would try again

Ramattra 

“No”

way to sugarcoat it, babe

it’s only when you get upset that he sighs and pulls you into his lap

“why would you ever become a worm? is someone trying to harm you? you know I would never let anyone bring harm to you.”

you try to explain that it’s just a hypothetical but he’s already going on a tangent on what he would do if you got turned into a worm

talks for five minutes alone on how he would defeat your enemies and defend your honour 

says he would “put you out of your misery”????

“you would KILL ME?!”

“as an act of honour”

babe….

0/10 would not try again

Hanzo

“why”

idk bro just answer the question 

lots of sighing and pinching the bridge of his nose

“would I also be a worm or am i still human” 

only gets more confused when you say he’d be a human and you’d be a worm

probably looks up worm life expectancy and if worms are capable of love 

“would you even know who I am if you were a worm”

has to ask a million questions before he can give his final verdict 

lets out a long sigh before looking you dead in the eyes 

“…yes”

cute in the end but would not try again 

Lucio:

“would you still love me if I turned into a frog?”

that’s not the question 

somehow it turns into a discussion on if he would eat your worm self if he was his frog self? 

he insists he wouldn’t and would let you ride on his back but you insist his frog instincts would be too strong 

“babe I’ve once seen you almost eat your own finger while eating chips”

“ok and??”

says you guys could live in a swamp together and he would protect you from evil

“I could be like your own frog superhero. I could even sing you little froggy songs”

makes up this entire life of you guys living together as a frog and a worm and him serenading you by croaking songs at night 

honestly it’s the best reaction you could have gotten, would try again

Baptiste:

“i would find you a cure and turn you back into a human”

honestly he’s very amused by this whole situation 

“but what if I want to be a worm”

“if I cure you and you want to turn back into a worm, that’s on you”

fair enough

insists he needs to ‘examine’ you so he knows you’re not turning into a worm 

makes a lot of jokes at your expense too

finally sighs and admits he would keep you in a little terrarium with all the food and nutrients you need 

“ha, so you would love me if I was a worm”

“love is a strong word”

good enough, would not try again

[jymwahuwu]

Hi! Really love your stories they always scratch my brain (*≧∀≦*)❤️, so I got an idea and wanted to ask what you think about it

I got this question with Sunday on the minigame/event (idk what to call it lol)

"Just as you're about to pull a dusty hard-leatherback book, you hear a gentle whisper within earshot, "Averoy Rosewood's works are notorious for their obscurity," the Oak Family Head Sunday faintly smiles at you. "Perhaps you need more elaboration."

(I couldn't put the image since anon asks don't allow me to put images😮‍💨, but it's from a Board Encounter in Cosmodyssey)

and when I read it my brain immediately went WHAT IF SUNDAY FILLS THE READER WITH A VIBRATOR ON THE LIBRARY, and him just watching in amusement as he talks about books and asking her questions about them while he plays with the levels of vibrations with a control on his hands and she just struggles to make sentences, so he goes and asks "What's wrong? Are you not feeling well?" To tease her and remind that she's in a public space and can't make much noise unless she wants everyone to know about what they're doing.

Hmm... I wrote this about Sunday, but I feel like maybe it could be about Jing Yuan or Aventurine 🤔, anyways sorry if it sounds weird my brain sometimes goes into unga bonga mode when I think about these men.

Sincerely,

An unhinged anon.

Thank you for telling me. I experienced this event and read the content of Sunday helping us in the library!! Wrote a little bit, I hope you like it 💗🫶

cw: yandere, non-con, abuse of power, abuse of credit, vibrator, harassment

How about you being the librarian at The Family Library? A nerdy librarian. The Family claims that this is a library open to everyone to read and borrow, covering a variety of books and hologram collections.

Sunday, the leader of the Oak Family noticed you. He can accurately talk to you about your interests, hobbies and ideals, and encourage you…but one thing is that you are not religious enough in your belief in harmony. You are too withdrawn…and cannot integrate into The Family. Sing hymns, participate in activities, and protect The Family, others can do it, but what can you do? He cannot allow you to continue in this position under these circumstances. You panicked, grabbing his sleeves and pleading with him through tears. "W-what, I really believe Lord Xipe…I need this job badly! Please Mr. Sunday…"

He offered a plan. He used his gloves to push a delicate small box in front of you. You must put two vibrators in your underwear while on duty to test your professional abilities. If you can tolerate sinful sexual pleasure, you qualify for this position.

"But… Mr. Sunday, can I-can I take a break?"

"Of course. I'm not here to torture you. This is for your and everyone's happiness and harmony, I hope you understand." His words ignited the hope in your heart. "You have 2 hours a day to take them down. Allocate your own time. After get off work, you head to my office and I will check on your progress. You must do this every working day."

"Check?" Your heart sank into the starry sky and was crushed. "Okay. Mr. Sunday..."

These two vibrators… are pearl white and have an angel wings pattern on them. It's silent, but it delivers a surge of pleasure to your private parts, sometimes fast and sometimes slow down. It's not much better when it's slow - it's a long, quiet torture that gives you no relief. You kept your legs still and sorted your books and documents, your underwear getting wet. Every half minute, you check like a hawk to see if you have wet your clothes, fearing that it has become a joke in the eyes of others…

He occasionally wanders into the library to check on your work and ask you to recommend books in a certain category or answer questions about the collection.

"What's wrong? Are you feeling uncomfortable?" Sunday approached you with caring eyes and ruthlessly pushed the controller frequency to the highest level. You lowered your head, holding back tears, your legs trembling. "I-I'm fine. Mr. Sunday. Thank you for your concern."

This kind-hearted gentleman and leader offers to take you to another secluded corner of the library to rest. On the road, Sunday dials down the vibration frequency and doesn't crank it up until you get to the corner. The intense ecstasy immediately hits you to the extreme and stimulates your nerves. You endured your moans, trembling in Sunday's arms as you reached orgasm. His hands caressed your hair like a lovable pet. He commented that your ability to endure needs to be improved.

After you get off work, Sunday asks you to take off all your clothes in the office and fold them on the table. He uses white gloves to inspect and rub your private parts, circling them with his thumb. In the watery light, those fingers slowly inserted between your legs and twitched. He clicked his tongue in disappointment when he realized that his fingers were already wet enough to slide into the inner walls before being inserted. "Not religious enough, are you? What are you thinking about? You're letting pleasure take over your body."

"...I'm sorry!! Mr. Sunday, Please give me a chance…" you begged with a sob, then cummed hard at his disappointed sigh.

[worksby-d]

Wrong Donut

Pairing: Andy Barber x pregnant!Reader

Summary: You can't get your favorite donut with your coffee, so Andy lets you cry to him about it over the phone 😖 (Idea from a lovely anon).

Warnings: None. Just soft and silly 🤭

Word count: ~800

∘◦❀◦∘

Don’t cry, don’t cry, don’t cry. 

You roll your eyes at yourself. Repeating the words in your head only makes it worse really. 

Pulling up to the drive thru window, you’re thankful you have your sunglasses on so the teenager working doesn’t have to see that he inadvertently ruined a pregnant woman's day by telling you that they’re out of your favorite donut.

The short drive back to work is spent blinking tears away so you can see. You think–hope–it does the trick to ward them off completely.

It feels like you’re in the clear until you sit down at your desk to drink your coffee and, reluctantly, the donut the guy recommended to you instead of your usual. You only said yes to it because any more words out of your mouth would have given away the sob you were holding back.

You break down when you open the paper bag and catch a glimpse of it. Not the same.

“Fuck,” you curse at yourself for being so upset, pushing the bag away. 

Wiping some tears off your cheeks with your sweater, you grab your phone and fast walk down the hall to a restroom so no one can see you. 

The only way you know how to cope lately is calling Andy and hoping he has time to let you vent. The poor guy. You suspect one of these days he’ll just stop taking your calls, but you hope it's not today. 

It takes a few deep breaths before you can get yourself to dial his number.

On his end, he sees his phone light up and he knows the drill since you're only voice calling and not video calling like you usually prefer with him. 

“Hi, honey,” he answers carefully, bracing himself. 

“Hi,” you answer back, ready to lose it again from just hearing his voice. 

He can hear the frown on your face. 

“What's wrong?” 

“I got the wrong donut,” you sniffle. 

That's a new one, he thinks to himself. “What?” 

“I went to get my coffee and donut, but I had to go during lunch because I was running late this morning,” you recount. Tears fill your eyes again. “But because it was later in the day and they were busy, they didn't have the donut I wanted. I had to get a different one. And it's just not... right.”

He tries his best not to laugh, he really does. 

“I'm sorry that happened.” You can hear the tinge of amusement in his voice, but he's also being genuine. “It’s just a donut though, baby…” 

“I know,” you sob – Loud enough for him to hold his phone away from his ear for a second. “I think that's why I'm crying. I know it's stupid.” 

He can't help but laugh now. “It's not stupid,” he assures. “You’re just emotional.” 

He just listens to the residual crying on your end until it sounds like you're ready to talk again. 

“Where are you, by the way?” 

“Hiding in the bathroom.” 

He smiles hearing you laugh a little. 

“Did you eat?” He asks. Stupid question. He bites his lip. “I know it wasn't the you-know-what that you wanted, but you have to eat.” 

You roll your eyes at the way he censors the word. 

“Not yet…” You sigh, fixing your smudged makeup while you finish talking to him. Or maybe not. “Will you stay on the phone with me? Distract me while I do?”

He can't say no to you. “Of course.” 

∘◦❀◦∘

When you get home from work a couple hours later, you’ve forgotten all about your mid-day crisis. It was just like all of the other minute things that have made you cry over the past couple weeks. 

You don’t question that you got home before Andy. Every evening is a little different depending on how busy each of you are. Besides, you probably did hold him up by crying to him during your lunch break anyway. So you just go ahead and get everything out that you need for dinner while you wait for him.

Hearing the door open, you call out to let him know you’re in the kitchen. 

“Hi,” you beam at him. 

He’s relieved to see you smiling as he crosses the room to give you a quick hug and kiss on the cheek. “Hey, sweetie.”

Your eyes become focused on a paper bag in his hand though, giving him a look when he sets it on the counter in front of you. 

“What’s that?” 

“For you,” he winks. 

You’re skeptical, grabbing the bag and opening it slowly. You let out a short laugh catching sight of the donut that you wanted so badly earlier. 

“My donut?” You pout, looking back at him. “You found one?”

“Oh God, don’t cry,” he chuckles seeing the look in your eyes and pulls you into his arms. “That was supposed to do the opposite.”

“I can’t help it,” you sniffle, closing your eyes and pressing your face into his neck to keep yourself from crying. “Thanks.”

“It was a fresh batch. I'll go back and buy them all for you...”

He says it like he's joking, but you don't think he is. That's exactly something he would do for you.

“No, it's okay,” you laugh, holding your arms around him tighter as if to keep him from doing so. “Don't want anyone else going through what I did.”

∘◦❀◦∘

Tag list: @patzammit @denisemarieangelina @thummbelina @pppsssyyyccchhhiiiccc @astheskycries @chris-evans-indian-fanfic @la-cey @turtoix @harrysthiccthighss @tvckerlance @rocketrhap3000 @mrspeacem1nusone @murdcox @geminievans1 @doozywoozy @americasass91 @dwights-new-plague @wwwmarissa92 @redhairedfeistynerd @whxre4cevans @aubreeskailynn @white-wolf1940 @melchills-j @xoxabs88xox @before-we-get-started @chrissquares @christowhore @ice-dtae @mariestark @justile @rogersbarber @dilfbarber @livstilinski @payperhearts @vintagestarlight @gitasor @chaeycunty @miss-ariella @bemysugarbean @t-stark35 @seitmai @reginaphalange2403 @raelorns21 @mrsgweasley @pandaxnienke @brandycranby

[becomingmina]

hey would you be able to write a felix x fem reader angst? when felix falls out of love with her.

“ARE YOU SURE IT'S NOT HATE?" anon request w/ LEE FELIX.

pairing: felix x female reader genre + warnings: angst, reader cries wc: 1.9k mina's note: tmi - my ex fell out of love with me so this hits home a little. we meet when we were 12 and we broke up when we were 21. anyways, i hope you guys like this :)) and to the cuties anon who requested this, thank you very much!! sorry for making you wait, im just like felix i have no reason!

other works here ; any comments and thoughts you can drop them here ; ty for reading.

“I asked you a question baby,” you say from across the kitchen island. Felix was occupied on his phone, sitting on the stool on the other side of the counter.

“I gave you an answer Y/N,” he huffs after a few seconds, not lifting his head from the device.

“Yeah, but not verbally though,” you make your way over to him.

“Yeah, but I’m sure you’re grown enough to figure it out, Y/N,” he replies back, rolling his eyes up from his screen for a second before continuing with scrolling.

“You’re really fine with them being blue?” You questioned again, hugging him from behind, your chin resting on his shoulder.

“They’re just cupcakes, they’ll get eaten anyways. I don’t understand what’s the big problem with the colour of the icing,” he says irritated.

It was Chan’s turn to host dinner for your friend group. You and Felix usually bring over homemade cupcakes for dessert. It was a ritual to spend every last Saturday of the month together in the kitchen baking and decorating two dozen cupcakes. And usually, it was Felix who would have a hard time choosing the colour for the icing but today it seems he just wanted to get the cupcakes over and done with.

“Okay,” you replied defeated, feeling a little hurt at his tone. “Did you wanna help me?” You softly asked, sniffing his shoulder to take in his sweet scent.

“I’m busy,” Felix sighed.

“Okay, I’ll iced them then,” you moved yourself away Felix, walking back to your original position in the kitchen.

Lately you feel like Felix hasn’t been his clingy needy self. He would stick onto you like glue every second of the day but recently he’s been distant. You can’t pinpoint when exactly it became like this, but you were sure it’s been a couple of weeks by now. He’s been telling you that work has been busy for him, and you understand how it can affect him, but you still feel a little bit downhearted when he visually shows his annoyance with you.

After finished up with the icing and getting yourself ready, you sat in living room with the box of cupcakes on your lap patiently waiting for Felix. He had locked himself in the office, saying he needed to go over his feedback for some report for work.

“Hey, how’d it go?” You ask when you hear the office door open, but he ignores your question as he searches for his car keys. You expected it didn't go well.

The car ride to Chan’s was silent as you figured you should probably give him some space. He looks over to your side a couple of times noticing your quietness, but he doesn’t strike conversation with you, only making a few little comments about how bad traffic was. You brushed off his lack of initiative making excuses for him that he was just tired from work.

“He surprised me the other day! He’s going to rent out my favourite art gallery for our wedding reception,” Hana and Hyunjin was giving the group details their upcoming wedding at dinner. They were so cheerful talking about it and although you loved it for them, you couldn’t help envy it and wished for you and Felix to reach that stage in life shortly.

“Who’s next? Felix? Y/N?” Chan teased with a raised brow, and you goofily smile at the older man. You turned your head to Felix to see his reaction, but his head is tilted down and his face was straight. Chan notices the tension and quickly changes subject hoping no one else catch on. It caught you by surprise that he wasn’t as responsive as you were to Chan’s joke. It got you second guessing if it was even work that’s been making him like this.

You spend the rest of the night with the other girlfriends. As they spoke about their recent dates with their partner, all you could do was be happy for them concealing the fact that you and Felix hadn’t been on one in ages. You keep glancing over at Felix throughout the night but he showed you no attention. Usually you would catch him staring at you and blowing kisses and winks at you, but tonight there was nothing.

The car ride home was the same as the car ride there - quiet.

Felix walked in your apartment first, you followed behind him closely. As you put your bag on the entry way table you tripped over a pair of shoes accidentally falling forward on Felix in the process.

“Y/N watch yourself!” Felix yells, clearly annoyed.

“Sorry,” you softly say as you got up. “I just tripped,” you defend yourself, feeling tears start to form in your eyes at his tone.

“God can you look where you’re going?!” he groans turning around to face you. He was red mad. He had never got this angry at you before for tripping over.

“Did I do something wrong to you Felix?” You asked softly, feeling something heavy in your chest. You needed an answer to why he’s been treating you differently, it’s obvious now that it wasn’t because of work. “Last couple of weeks you have just been distant towards me and I’m a little hurt by it,” you say cracking your voice in the process, pulling a string on Felix’s heart. He frowns at your reaction.

You watch him sigh, hesitating little bit before he answers “You know work is hectic-”

“-Is it?” You questioned in an offended tone, dumbfounded that he used the same excuse again - work. “Work is hectic that you have to yell at me because I accidentally tripped on your shoes? Work’s been hectic that you can’t even smile at me in front of our friends? Work’s been hectic that you can’t even answer a simple question about the colour of the icing on the cupcakes that use to mean so much to you?!”

You didn’t expect to have an outburst like this. Felix doesn’t reply, he just takes a deep breath watching you as you continue to lash out at him.

“You don’t ask if I’m okay anymore. You don’t hug me anymore. Because of work?” You chuckle, sarcastically.

“Y/N-” he takes a step closer to you.

“-You’ve leave for work early in the morning and come back home late on the days I’m at home-”

“I-” he tried to speak again.

“And when it’s the weekend you lock yourself in the office all day. You avoid spending time with me, you avoid talking to me.” Your face was red, brows furrowed as you keep your tears from falling.

“Y/N, let me talk-”

“What did I do to-” You cut him off again.

“I’m not inlove you anymore!” Your heart drops at his words. The tears you tried to conceal instantly rolls down your cheeks and you take in a sharp breath. “This relationship is draining me.” He adds, breaking you even more.

You didn’t expect this. He’s been so mean to you lately all because he wasn’t in love you anymore? It doesn’t make sense to you that all of this was done because he fell out of love. You refuse to believe it.

“Are you sure it’s not hate?” You sniffled, pulling another string from Felix’s heart. "Are you sure it's not because you hate me?" you repeat yourself when he doesn't answer, feeling a bit anxious that it might be true, that he actually hates you.

“Never.” Felix replied rapidly this time, his tone a lot more softer now. “I could never hate you Y/N." Felix continues to conceals his emotions, not letting anything pass you.

“But you’ve been acting like you do.” You wiped your tears with the back of your hand, your eyes wavering to seek any reaction from him.

“I just needed space Y/N.”

“I gave you space. So much space,” you retorted.

“I think we should..” he stops before he says the last words, letting you piece the puzzle by yourself.

“You want to leave me?” You question and he flicks his eyes away from yours. You got your answer.

He lets out a heavy breath, running his fingers through his blonde hair, his eyes falling back on yours. “It’s for the best Y/N.”

“No, I don’t understand. Where I go wrong, Lix?.” you reached out to grip his forearm as the tears continued down your face, dripping to the floor.

“I don’t want to be here with you anymore,” he says softly, trying to loosen himself from your hold but you latch onto him tighter as you shake your head no.

“That’s not a reason Lix. Tell me where I went wrong,” You needed answers. He owe it to you. “You were the one who chased me, remember? You made me fall in love with you. It’s been 4 years and you want to leave me? Why?” You asked, in a complete mess.

“I don’t know,” he replies. “I’m sorry Y/N,” Felix apologies.

“Tell me why?”

“I can’t-”

“Then stay.” If he didn’t have an answer then he shouldn’t leave you, it’s unfair.

Y/N,” he says firmly.

“Just for one night,” you say, taking in a deep breath. “You can leave when I fall asleep,” you surrendered, eyes wavering waiting for his answer. “Please,” you beg.

“Y/N.. Baby I can’t,” it was the first time he called you that in a while and your heart breaks once more. He stopped calling you that and started calling you by name for months now. How is it that you never noticed until now.

“I’ll let you go when I fall asleep.. Please..Just love me one last time, Felix.”

Felix contemplated. He stared at you. Your glossy eyes. Your runny nose. Your red cheeks. He watches your chest rises up and down as you tried to control yourself. He hates seeing you cry, he hates seeing you hurt. It breaks him. He gives in. “Okay.”

He has you on pulled up flushed on him on your shared bed, your legs tangled with his. Your face pressed again his chest as one of his hand is wrapped around your waist and the other traces nothings up and down your back. Your tears haven’t stop, they fall effortlessly out of your eyes on his shirt. You stay quiet. You want to talk. You have so many questions to ask. So many things you want to know. But you stay quiet because you know Felix won’t answer you. So instead you stare into nothing as you replay back your happiest memories with Felix. You can’t help the small smile that is pulled on your face as you remember everything, every detail of everyday with him.

You tried you best to stay awake but you feel your eye lids closing. You don’t want to give in to sleep because you know by the time you wake up, he’ll be gone. But you’re exhausted, both your body and mind.

Felix stares up at the ceiling. He’s guilty. He owes you a reason, he owes you answers but he keeps quiet. He replays back memories but he doesn’t have the same reaction as you. He doesn’t smile. He cries instead. Tears run down his face as you recalls the soft and sweet memories with you. How could he do this to you? How could he make you fall in love with him then walk out like this? How could he say he was no longer in love with you?

Felix doesn’t hear your sniffles anymore. He feels your breathing evens out with his body. You had fallen asleep in his arms.

Felix presses a kiss to your temple, his arm still holding your waist tightly.

“I’m sorry.”

[kazutora-kurokawa]

Hi, I missed you, I love you can back <3

I need obslove with baji, murder, blood, jealousy, yk

Yandere!Baji Headcanons

♡ NSFW, fem reader, naive!reader, gf!reader, reader is in denial, jealousy, murder, blood, arson, toxic relationship, rough biting, soft sex, unprotected sex, creampie, overstimulation ♡

note: you're a person of few words anon, but I think I got the jist of what you were aiming for lol 🩷 I hope you enjoy

note 2: I just wanna take a second to thank y'all because I just realized I hit 700 FOLLOWERS 😭🫠 Who? What? When? Where? How? Why? I don't know the answers but I'm done asking questions, just know that I love y'all so much 🩷😫

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Possessiveness/Marking His Territory

At first you just thought that Baji just liked biting you as a joke, now you wake up every morning covered in bite marks and it's obviously not a joke at all. You don't mind, it seems like it's just a habit of his, like his own little form of affection. But sometimes, you're left to wonder if it's a sign of something more when he bites down hard enough to draw blood, or when he bites down even harder when you tell him it hurts. Of course it couldn't be anything serious though, besides, as long as he's happy it should be fine.

The Things He'll Do For Love

He's fully prepared to kill someone for you, just say the word and it's done. He won't kill right away though, he'll watch the person he plans on killing and leave them cryptic warnings. Most people realize something's wrong when their belongings start having random burn marks and holes on them. Fortunately, he's only had to kill one person that got too close to you. The way the guy's hands ghosted your hips and the way he looked at you just disgusted Baji to no end. He really didn't have a choice but to get rid of the guy and that's exactly what he did. It's so much easier to clean up a murder when you just light the whole crime scene on fire. Of course he was still considerate of you, he sat right next to you and held you when you got the news. He sat next to you at the funeral too, grateful for the closed casket.

Intimate Moments

Baji was very...affectionate, that's how you'd like to describe him anyway. Sex with him was so different from how he'd normally act, it was like he did a whole 180. He was so soft with you, treating you like porcelain, like you were so weak you'd crumble under his rough touch. Of course he'd still bite, but he was much more gentle about it, lightly sinking his teeth into you like a wolf that was scared to break a lamb's neck. His grip was firm on your hips and the way he thrust into you had you seeing stars. He'd always fuck you raw, he liked to feel every inch of you gripping him. The look on your face, the little noises you made, the sound of your pussy squelching every time he rammed into you, everything had Baji on cloud nine. He could never get enough of you and if satisfying himself meant cumming in your pussy all night and overstimulating you, then so be it.

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Taglist

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