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m1d-45 · 2 months ago

Text

room 11-13

summary: albedo is weird. no, not just weird- disgustingly strange.

word count: ~2.5k

-> warnings: implied stalking [him -> you] ; he is a weird creep!! brief + non described mentioned nudity (of reader, within a drawing)

-> gn reader (you/yours) in a modern au !

taglist: @samarill || @thenyxsky || @valeriele3 || @shizunxie || @boba-is-a-soup || @yuus3n || @esthelily || @turningfrogsgay || @cupandtea24 || @genshin-impacts-me || @chaoticfivesworld || @raaawwwr || @ryuryuryuyurboat || @undrxtxd || @rainswept || @wanderersqt || @rozz-eokkk

< masterlist >

your roommate was… interesting, to say the least. not that you really had many expectations—unlike apparently everyone else, you didn’t come to university with a plethora of friends packed in your bag. you had no names to list on your housing contract, no familiar faces to look forward to when you came home, just you, a handful of cardboard boxes and a lingering sense that you’d forgotten something.

there was nothing you could pin about him. nothing in specific, no one catalyst you could point to. sure, you don’t see him often, but that isn’t inherently a bad thing. there’s nothing wrong with not going out much, there’s nothing wrong with being a quiet person when you’re living with a stranger. the common room is clean, the sink is (relatively) empty, and none of your things in the fridge have been eaten. he really, by all standards, should be a perfectly fine roommate, but…

albedo was a quiet man. you first met him when you moved in, delicately pouring exact amounts of water into a small tins over the sink without a single sound or stray droplet. he looked up, you exchanged names, and that was that. the rest of your day was spent unpacking in your room, barely hearing the click of his door closing.

you never quite asked what he was doing that first day, but you could put two and two together. he had a habit of leaving pencils or erasers or other supplies on the coffee table, and you often ran into him when he came out of his room to fetch them. you’re not quite sure how you never see him in the living room when you never told him your schedule, but… well, whatever. it didn’t take a genius to know that the guy with charcoal smears across his hands was an artist. and, if you’d somehow missed those, you sometimes ran into half-used palette in the fridge, beads of paint in a myriad of colors sealed neatly in plastic containers, changing every time you checked.

you weren’t sure why they were always there, as you’d definitely seen one when he was in the dorm, but… well, it’s not really your business, is it? maybe he’s busy, maybe he doesn’t want to paint, maybe he’s taking a nap, who cares. you grab what you need and go back to your room; there’s more important things to worry about than a stranger’s hobbies. honestly, you shouldn’t spend so much time thinking about him. you could hardly claim to know someone you never saw.

well, except when you did see him.

you grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge as you came back from your chemistry lab, not minding the usual palette of paint beside it. also as usual, you heard his door open as he remembered some random item, not minding the sound of his footsteps as you receded into your own room-

“wait! ah- please…”

you forgotten what his voice sounded like. it’s mostly out of shock, not recognition, that you turn around, seeing him lingering in the entrance to his half of the dorm. his hair is loose around his shoulders, catching the light from the window and glowing gold. his apron is stained with a rainbow of paint, matching the perpetual lines across his hands, and he seems a bit too nervous to be talking with someone he’s been living with for a few months now.

“…i couldn’t make it to the lab today,” he starts, words measured and not at all like his original call, practiced instead of panicked. “could i borrow your notes?”

…you’re in the same chemistry class? you’d never noticed. then again, you’re not sure you could pick him out of a crowd—it’s not like you two were exactly close… but giving him your data was honestly a non-issue. normally you wouldn’t think twice about it, except if he was in your lab section then he should know the rules about missing them.

“you’re going to have to retake the lab anyway, aren’t you? my report won’t help you at all.”

he blinks, like he’d forgotten that fact, and you half hope that’ll be the end of it. you still have your own work to get to, after all.

“still… it would give me something to reference, so when i do it i’ll know if my results are reasonable.” his brows are drawn, genuinely worried, crystal blue carrying a surprising amount of emotion despite the careful cadence of his words. “i’d greatly appreciate your assistance on this matter… i don’t have a reliable way to contact anyone else in the class.”

it only takes you a few moments to weigh the pros and cons. at worst, your partner can back you up if he tries to steal your work. at best, nothing happens and you’ve earned a bit of goodwill.

you shrug, taking off your bag and setting it on the counter, unzipping the main pocket and digging for your lab manual. you find it and flip to today’s lab, mentally wondering what an artist would think of the irritated scribbles down the side of the page. whatever the case, you hold it out toward the hallway he was before, only to find him barely a foot away. he’s stood over your shoulder, letting your manual bump into his chest without a flinch, without an ounce of the worry from before.

without an ounce of anything at all, really. his face is flat, empty, just staring down at the words in front of him without seeming to read them at all.

“…sorry,” you start, “i didn’t hear you-”

“don’t be sorry.” with a blink, he’s back, taking the manual with a gentle smile. “thank you for your help. i’ll return it by tonight.”

“…yeah, take your time.”

you’re not going to question what or why whatever happened did. it’s.. just easier if you don’t. you grab your bag and go to your room, focused on anything else.

you don’t find it in the common area, on the coffee table or by the sink or in any reasonable area. he doesn’t knock on your door to return it. no, instead, you trip over it the next day as you leave your room, squinting in the dark to see it laying on the carpet, a note taped to the front.

yeah, you’re not reading that. not now, at least. you’re certain albedo is a nice guy, if socially awkward, but… you can give him the benefit of the doubt later. you shove the note in a drawer and forget about it, going to class. if you just ignore it, you won’t have to deal with it.

it must not have been anything important, because he doesn’t ever bring it up again. it’s almost as if nothing happened. there’s a new pencil on the common room whenever you walk by, he ducks his head and smiles sheepishly when grabbing it, and nothing is new. you try to look for him in the lab, if only to be courteous, but never find him. it’s not a big class… but whatever, you’re not too familiar with his face anyway. after a week or two, you stop trying.

it’s wishful thinking, really.

you have to do a double take when opening the fridge one day, the paint on the palette looking, from the corner of your eye, like a human hand. it’s just skin-toned paints, delicately mixed into a color that somewhat looks like yours.. by the looks of it, he must have fussed with the tint for a while. normally there’s only small bubbles of paint, but this is excessively fine refinement.. he must just be a perfectionist.

you can’t leave your room without running into him. not just like before, with brief intersections as he grabs what he’s forgotten, but actual interactions. he sits on the couch, drawing in a small notebook, asking you about your classes like he’s not supposed to be in his own classes. sure, he could be taking some online, but it’s like he never leaves the dorm.

he asks as usual, one day, what class you’re going to. when you finally gather your courage and ask why he himself isn’t going to the lab, he startles, like he’d forgotten he was attending. there were plenty of reasons why he wasn’t going—maybe he was in a different section of the class, or he had a car and had reduced travel time, or quite literally anything other than silence. but he sat there, staring at you like you were the one who had mixed up your schedule, with the same painfully empty look as before.

you left soon after that.

if asked to describe albedo in three words or less, you’d fumble for a few moments before landing on “fine, but weird.” if asked to do so with any other level of detail, you’d probably end up saying the exact same thing.

and that’s fine. you didn’t really expect to become best friends with your roommate. but for archons’ sake, he’s just so… uncanny.

you’ve never seen any other food in the fridge but yours. you cannot remember ever seeing or hearing him leave or enter the dorm, or ever remember not seeing some sign of him being there. his door was perpetually closed, the faint sound of scratching coming from behind it, and he’d just… freeze at random. like he recedes into himself, leaving a hollow husk until he returns, eyes left as flat disks set into an unfeeling face. there’s nothing inherently wrong with not showing many expressions, but whatever he’s got going on is far more concerning than that.

so really, who could blame you for being curious? his sketchbook is just there, laying open on the table, only partially masked by the small bag of supplies next to it. the door to the bathroom is closed, you really shouldn’t be invading his privacy like this, but it’s not like he even bothered to close it.

still, it’s wrong.

still, having something solid to point to could really help if you ever need to make a complaint to an RA.

oh archons, this is such a bad idea.

before you can convince yourself not to, you walk over and sit in his usual place on the couch, picking up his sketchbook and gritting your teeth through the fact that there’s no way this is morally justified.

the current spread is plain. it’s entirely in pencil, repeated iterations of different kinds of jewelry. rings, with ornate spirals and diamonds along the sides, leading into a gem of many different cuts. some simple stud earrings, some hoops, a necklace draped around a half-drawn bust, the chain sketched to look like blooming flowers strung together. there’s some notes in another script, but other than that, it’s entirely normal. there’s nothing weird about a guy that draws bracelets in his spare time. but your mind itches to find a justification, searching for proof, and you’re already in too deep. despite your better judgement, you turn the page, doing your best not to drop it when you do.

it’s you.

you, at least six times on two pages alone. smiling, waving, fixing your hair, by the seven you feel faintly sick, fingers digging into the pages as you try to rationalize what you’re seeing.

it could just be a one off. maybe you have a particularly interesting face to draw? except the next page is the same, and so is the next, and you flip through them all with the edge of your thumb and it’s all you.

all of it. every single page that has ink on it has your face. from the very front to the very back, with only a page or two of white left, and it’s clear that the jewelry was an intentional decoy. there’s a spread dedicated to just your hands, one to various outfits he’s seen you in, one- archons, one in various stages of undress, barely granting you the dignity of keeping them from the waist up. the worst part, really, is how accurate they are, clear proof of just how much time he’s spent staring at you.

you recognize his voice now, quiet and measured as he calls your name. that could just be your heart in your ears, though.

he has that same blank expression again, standing in the doorway, looking between you and the book. you’re certain he can see the paled fingertips of your grip on the cover. “do… do you not like them?”

“…what?”

he settles back into himself, sad, shoulders slumping and eyes downturned. “they’re just practices, i promise. the actual painting looks much better…”

bile threatens the back of your throat. “the painting?”

“yes, the painting. the one i mentioned in my note…”

…the note. his note. the one you didn’t read. the one he gave you after a grand total of one significant interactions, before which you all but considered him a ghost. and he decided that making a painting of you was a normal thing to do?

“…it makes sense you forgot it. i can’t imagine i’ve ever come close to properly capturing your beauty… it doesn't matter the medium, i never seem to get it right...”

he crosses his arms, picking idly at his lips with one hand, like he’s discussing a particularly annoying problem on his homework and not the fact that he has drawings of you topless. after a few moments of mumbling, he shakes his head. “i’ll do better. i promise i will. one day i'll draw something that finds even a fraction of your perfection.”

you don’t care. all you want is to get out of here, to lock your doors and try not to call the cops while he’s in earshot. “it’s fine, albedo”

the lie is a poison that seems to sting him upon arrival, a ripple of shock crossing his impassive expression. “it's not fine, not at all. how can i call myself an artist if i fail to impress my muse? please, give me time, i promise i can do better-”

“it’s fine,” you repeat, setting the sketchbook down and realizing with another stab of disgust that he’s written your name on the front cover. you stand, hands buzzing with the echo of what you’ve witnessed, not caring for the crestfallen look on his face. “…you’re a talented artist,” you grit out.

and you’re going to be sick.

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riaki · 1 year ago

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guys pls consider… lifeguard!gojo bit inspired by a post i saw a long time ago from @/shotorus, thank u sel + inez !

lifeguard!gojo, who signs you in for a pool session and gives you the wrong time-slot wristband because he’s too busy gawking at you with hearts in his blue eyes to notice he registered you to swim for 12pm-2pm. when, in reality, it’s 4pm in the afternoon and the hot sun is slowly sinking in the sky.

lifeguard!gojo, who mistakes your polite attempts to correct him as signs of disinterest; he sees things through romance-tinted glasses. of course he can't keep a wounded pride, and so he makes it his saturday afternoon goal to win your heart. after all, who in their right mind would reject him in all his dashing chlorine scented glory?

lifeguard!gojo, who reintroduces himself all suave and cool and he thinks it's working mid-hair slick-back— until he gets smacked in the face by a stray rubber ball, and his sunglasses go flying. it leaves a red spot of hashmarks on his nose, like the ball was a cookie cutter and he was the dough. but he doesn't mind, because he got to hear your pretty laugh as you pick up his shades and hand them back to him, albeit at his own expense. you even say a cute thing or two about the chipped popsicle sticker on the frame.

lifeguard!gojo, who's unreasonably (and immaturely) upset over the fact he can't seductively rub sunscreen into your back because you already have beforehand. but he's not complaining; it smells good when he's forced a little closer to you to avoid a rampaging train of kids running across the pool deck. he should yell at them, but the smell of summery citrus and sea salt wafting on the humid breeze distracts him.

lifeguard!gojo, who pours every ounce of his remaining energy into gettin your attention the entire time you're there— with loud whistle blows from the scribble-adorned plastic whistle hanging from his neck, grabbing your attention, only to just offer a charming wink in your direction. or, squeezing idle small talk between every lap you swim, teasing you with a lazy grin on his lips from under his shaded lifeguard stand when you complain about the heat of the blazing sun.

lifeguard!gojo, who ropes his poor, exhausted snack stand friend with the blonde hair and dark shadows beneath his eyes into helping him— when you give up on swimming laps and begrudgingly let him convince you into going down the waterslides as if you’re a nine year old with neon pink inflatable buoy rings around your arms.

lifeguard!gojo, who forces nanami (snack stand man) to ‘accidentally’ send you down the slide early— you’re caught up in the surprise, the sound of rushing water and kids shouting and a cicada’s buzz filling your ears— and before you know it you’re tossed into the bottom of the pool by the stream of water, disoriented and panicking until two steady arms fish you out of the pool.

lifeguard!gojo, who ‘rescues you from drowning’ holding you bridal style to his chest with his sunglasses balanced on the edge of his nose, letting you catch a glimpse of his uncanny blue eyes hidden beneath his dripping white hair. his whistle lanyard hangs loosely around his neck, drawing a line down the center of his toned chest.

lifeguard!gojo, who can’t help but double over as he laughs obnoxiously— boyishly when he gets to watch your face flush cherry as you scramble to get out of his arms and fall straight back into the refreshing water with a splash.

lifeguard!gojo, who’s forced to reconcile with what he thinks is defeat when he gets you kicked out of the pool early because of his earnest registering mistake— and in doing so, you forget your ring on the pool deck. it's just your luck— you don't even realize it until the sun's almost set and you’re halfway home.

lifeguard!gojo, who’s cleaning up and getting ready to close for the night when he spots a gleam of silver reflecting the hazy purple sunset, and he recognizes it as your jewelry (even though that was the first time he ever met you). of course he'd remember it— he'd been absentmindedly staring at your fingers, burning them into his mind; imagining how they'd feel in his damp hair.

lifeguard!gojo, who slips your ring into his pocket after trying it on and marveling at how small your hands must be in comparison to his.

lifeguard!gojo, who’s cleaning out the gutters, waist deep in the pool, when he hears your voice again— pretty like birdsong in the spring, dew gathering on the fragile petals of blooming petals.

lifeguard!gojo, who waits for you to come in— the gate was unlocked— and watches as you kneel on the concrete deck, elbows on your knees as you smile down at him. you look really cute, with your hair falling over your face like that, framed by the dying sunlight.

lifeguard!gojo, who’s a little disheartened when you tell him all you came back for was your ring, and not him. or his phone number.

lifeguard!gojo, who disappears beneath the water for a moment— then resurfaces from the pool dripping wet, hair clinging to his face while he acts as though he'd found your ring at the bottom of the pool. "it's stainless steel, yeah? don't worry about rust." he reassures you with a chuckle when you panic; he thinks it's cute.

lifeguard!gojo, who holds the ring just out of your grasp when you make a grab for it, laughing as you almost fall right into the pool.

lifeguard!gojo, who tells you he'll only give it back if you give him your phone number in exchange as he climbs out of the pool and sits next to you, on the gutters, the sound of rushing water filling his ear.

lifeguard!gojo, who, sitting by your side, focuses on the way the pool looks with the lights turned on, an ethereal underwater dreamscape distorted by the incessant moving water. a way of distracting himself from how beautiful you look in the painted sunset.

lifeguard!gojo, who gets his first taste of you when you ask him to face you; you muffle his yelp of surprise, but it doesn’t matter because you taste even better than you smell, a sweetness like crystal rock candy and blueberries on his tongue when his lips meet yours.

lifeguard!gojo, who takes the opportunity to catch your wrist and slide your ring back onto your finger with a quick lingering kiss to your cheek; his lips are a little wet from his earlier pool dip, but the dreamy look in your eyes tells him you don’t mind.

lifeguard!gojo, who sees you out, still riding on the thrill of your lips; the pride in his chest now that he's got your contact saved on his phone with an excessive amount of heart emojis and a (˘ڡ˘ς) next to your name.

lifeguard!gojo, who can't wait for the next time you come back to the pool, and who ignores the angry slew of texts from his boss scolding him for leaving the gate unlocked in favor of the selfie you send him.

you: [ one image attached ]

lifeguard boy 🛟🤍 : GAYATTTTT LET ME HIT PLSPLSPLSS 🙈🙈😝😝😝😋😋🤞🔥🔥🔥⁉️‼️🔞💯💯😼😻💺💺🗽

bonus: nanami gets u two popsicles to share tagging @sugumimi NAOMI I HOPE THIS IS WHAT U WERE TALKING AB my (riaki) stuff. don’t repost and/or plagiarize !

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running-with-kn1ves · 11 months ago

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Hii ! I wanted to ask if you could do more yandere gangster.

A/N: here's a ramble that is similar to so many other fics/imagines but its ALL I CAN THINK OF RN...

CW: kidnapping, yandere themes, murder, illicit substances mentioned, weaponry, some suggestive thots, general dark content shtuff.

Gangster! Yan who’s the right hand man to one of your city’s oldest gangs, the bosses family operating it since the prohibition era. Their main source of income back then was smuggling alcohol to different speakeasies and clubs, now mostly dabbling in the occasional shipment of opioids or small arms that they can get their hands on. Your gangster! Yan doesn’t handle that side of business, though. He’s been tasked to oversee deals, and the protection of the boss and whatever sweet treat he has on his arm for the evening.

When a ‘project’ goes haywire, he’s there to settle things. When someone needs to be taken care of, he oversees it while his boys do what they need to. And when there’s a witness to a particularly unsavory part of business, he personally sees to shutting them up.

That’s why he didn’t have a choice but to watch you, to learn your morning routine and stare intensely when you perused the grocery isles indecisively. The boss put him up to it, to dispose of every flaw in their seamless operations; countless times he entered your backdoor, breaking the lock you had just replaced due to his previous endeavor, watching you curl up in warm white sheets and smush your face against your pillow. Standing outside wasn’t an option anymore, his shadow from the window disturbed you, and it blocked the trickle of moonlight on your dewey skin.

Even with the small pistol in his hidden coat pocket, the crowbar he ued to pry the door open, the compulsion to rid you of what you had seen to appease his leader could not overtake the complete desire to rub his face into your chest, to have your thighs wrapped around his head like a sea of warmth, needing that earthy scent of your skin that somehow calmed his screaming heart to completely surround him.

What drew him to you was how alone you had been-- at home, at the scene of the crime, when you were out and about. Who would miss you? Who was there to take care of you? What would be the purpose to killing you? You hadn’t even gone to the police yet, despite the millions of questionable asks you submitted to reddit and looked up online for what to do after seeing a man’s murder.

The roughly edged gangster found it endearingly cute, so foreign to the life he had led. You had no way of stopping him if he completed what he was supposed to, no one to turn to if you suddenly found yourselves at the hands of a shady group of men who used you as a drug mule.

Gangster! Yan knew the kind of underlings his boss employed, easy men on probation or past druggies who wouldn’t think for a minute to stop from gobbling you up on the side of the street if you just so happened to walk down the wrong alley. Seeing as you had stupidly yet to make a distinct change your route after witnessing his gangs work, it could happen any day now.

He couldn’t let you fall prey to the men he didn’t have a leash on, nor let you continue to live in such suffocating solitude with that neutral look on your face forever. Even if it was only filled with fear from now on, from him-- he’d give you a better life than what you lived.

It was too easy to take you, too easy to drag you to his car, too easy to put you in the decent condo he had been paying for the past decade and barely came home to. Now, he had just realized, he’d have a real reason to come back home. He couldn’t just sleep the night away in shitty bars just to wake up to the next day of work. He had to take care of you, feed you, make sure you bathed.

Gangster! Yan was almost as surprised when he gave you the cold shoulder, heartlessly teasing you for your stupidity in walking down a known drug-trade neighborhood, for not having realized that he had stalked you every. single. Day. as you were blind to his heavy, broad shadow of scars and grimaces.

You were so quietly willing to appease him, to scoot to his lap when he demanded it with a threatening hand over his pocket, pretending as if the empty space was a weapon. “Please don’t kill me” you asked neverendingly, every meek breath expecting a slap or a shove off. But the criminal held onto you tighter, hating the reminder that you weren’t a willing pet.

Even when your eyes faded back with ecstasy, your arms thrown around his shoulders with a grip that only a lover could offer, he saw the flinch you gave when he bent down to kiss you.

Even with his harsh spats that he throws at you for your mistakes, his belittlement, you are his comfort doll when he’s deal with hardships for the day. When the horrible things he’s done starts to get to him and the alcohol doesn’t drown it out, or when one of his drop-offs go to shit, you’re the one he bee-lines for for to rant to, to make you stroke him and nod at how hard he’s worked. But his possessiveness is soul-crushing. His grip is painful when he holds you at night, his kisses rough against your mouth with his chain-smoker breath and chapped lips that haven’t been touched in ages.

But with you, he’s learned to take better care of himself. He already has you, wants you in every way, but he needs you to want him, to need him. So, coming home to shower, geling his hair back like he did as a young rookie, shaving his 5 o’clock shadow, he’s made himself into the perfect, respectable man-- or wannabe bad boy. But no amount of grooming could change your perception of the blood stained gangster that kept you in a cage before you were trustworthy enough to be chained to the bed.

“I’ve killed for you, who else could say that?”

“Been thinkin’ bout you all day, waiting here for me. Came home as fast as I could so you wouldn’t be lonely. A nobody like you can’t be left to your own devices for too long.”

“Won’t let no other fucker get a hold of you, you’re mine-- through and through. I’ll kill us both before something seperates us.

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donttouchtheneednoggle · 1 year ago

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Good Omens + text posts (8/?): an Inspector Constable special 😊

#do u see my vision #good omens #good omens muriel #ineffable husbands #i am so so normal about them #all gendering done in jest/gender neutrality as usual :')#good omens season 2 #go2 #*go text posts

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the-moon-files · 9 months ago

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So I have tried to request this prompt from someone else but I don't think their blog is that active anymore. If your willing I'd love to request the following.

Prompt: Reader is bisexual and gender neutral.

Reader is considered fairly attractive and gets flirted with pretty often by basically whoever gender wise. And maybe reader and Zelda even end up flirting a little bit. Reader would have a similar lackadaisical flirty personality as Warriors has.

I wanted to see how each of The Chain would react to this with the context of them having secret feelings for the reader.

2nd official request, woo look at me go 🏃💨

Sun: Gender-neutral Reader (”you”/they/them)

Orbit: Headcanons-ish

Stars: Zelda (Assuming they meant BOTW), + the classic Chain of Links <3

Comets & Meteors: Content Warnings: mild cussing, mild typical loz violence, Mildly Suggestive, & Trigger Warnings: none known.

Please comment if I missed any. /gen

so i like to think that modern flirting is radically different than their medieval flirting,

like mayyybbeee Wild can handle it, but even then, they have royalty/knights still, so hes still gettin flustered lol

and i like to think u learned that difference the first time Wars complimented ur new/strange modern fit, and u returned the energy?? except 10x stronger (to them)??

youve played the player, and beat him at his own game, the Captain of the knights is sputtering and shit LMAO

(he said smth like, “their beauty is god-like in this otherworldly clothing“ and YOU said smth like he’d “thank you, youd look better in my bed than in armor 👉 😎 👉 ” lmao)

funniest part is, bc its so natural, i can see u immediately shooting off smth and forgetting it instantly, much to the Links collective shock 😭

u go to towns and notice theres always 1 hero around to steer u away from shopkeepers, townsppl, etc so u wont flirt w/them LMAO

(when u finally notice, u just, “ohh i get it now, so im only allowed to flirt with someone named Link, ohhh, okayy” and they just, “NO we didnt say that-!” “No its just their bold flirtations are not for the weak of heart-!” “Yes.” “CAPTAIN-”)

the only one who they cant steer u away from is Zelda.

afterall, they kinda have to inform the Princess/now Queen of the kingdom, whats going on w/them traveling with Link (Wild) around time and space

the sheikah tablet had been disconnecting + reconnecting to Purah’s both fascination and worry

so as theyre invited to eat dinner and explain in the rebuilding castle, everyone’s absorbed in shadow talk or smth, and u can see Zelda’s struggling to follow along, u just casually bring it back to her, as she’s also trying to write notes and theyve moved on too quickly w/o her

“wowww, all these men and not a single one’s gonna offer the lady any, ‘hi, hello, how is the most beautiful girl in the world today?’ “

and the gapingggg from the links shut them right up, while Zelda goes all pink and coughs, and agrees that they should move on to more chill topics lol

and u can crack anybody tbh, Zelda giggles at ur compliments all the time, even in work mode, u can deffo get Wars to blush to his ears, and even Time to look away first in a flirty + staring contest lol

Legend might actually put his hands up like he’s prepared to fight u anytime u try to flirt at him when its just you two, before he realizes what hes doing and stops LMAO

oh and u absolutely get a lot of mileage out of that one lol

the best reactions have gotta be, in order of most to least extreme: Hyrule, Sky, Wild, Four, Legend, Twilight, Wars, Time

Rulie, Sky, Wild and Four fall into that classic, shocked-heart-eyes, full blush up to their pointy ears, etc category when u get them,

they are also very easy to get lmao

Four is the best at recovery, or ducking away, but if its the Colors, its this type of obvious lol, w/the obvious ones like Red and Blue, Green takes a little more to break, and tbh Vio could go toe-to-toe w/u better than Wars tbh before he crumbles under the pressure lol

Legend, Twi, Wars, and Time faces may not change a lot, bc theyre trying to save it lmao, but the way their cheeks go pink and ears twitch is how u know ur gettting to them (along w/legend’s defensive reaction to getting cornered LMAO)

Twi has caved and covered his face w/his hands before lmao

one day youll get Time to break more than an ear twitch, and looking away, One Day.

(Wind is in fact, having the time of his life, watching you absolutely hilariously wreck these otherwise v serious heroes, hes glad u got them to finally relax a little, but also its hilarious seeing Wars and Legend red faces, and occasionally stealing Wild’s tablet to take funny pics of them all to blackmail later lol)

☆

idk how good that was, as im kinda bust at flirty banter between characters, so i hope this suffices ur need to flirt w/everyone lol

also i feel i should apologize for not rlly including pronouns? it just kinda comes w/writing reader stories to put them in 2nd person to both make intimacy for readers w/their little avatar im controlling for them, and to purposefully remove the need for gendered pronouns :/

so im sorry i couldnt quite figure out how to make it where “they/them” got used much, i promise i love all pronouns, its just a skill issue tbh lmao

btw

send any prayers, blessings, or good vibes u got my way tomorrow bc im getting wisdom teeth surgery and i am intimidated✨

ill post more asks (i have multiple asks!! <33) after im lying in bed lamenting my painful fate,

mostly just worried ill react badly to the drugs, also the idea of being knocked out during surgery is a little scary so what can i say

have a great weekend guys!! thanks for reading if u did :)

Peace out,

🌙

#lu x reader #linked universe x reader #link x reader #loz link x reader #linked universe reader #lu x gender neutral reader #linked universe gn reader #gn reader #gn reader imagines #moon asks #tags are so hard #send good vibes u guys surgery is scary #ive acc been awake the last time i got a tooth extracted which is why this is extra weird for me #also i got it late in life im 23 lmao #uknow maybe u flirting w/the boys would automatically up their game so then they start getting better at beatin u at it lmao #omfg can u imagine tho #medieval looking wars that usually speaks shakespeare level flirts just says now #'so if i offered u enough shiny trinkets- would u be interesting in dating me?'#lmao

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unmotivatedwrit3r · 1 year ago

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why do we go back?

damian wayne x reader

warnings: anxiety, kind of a panic attack?, implied past trauma/abuse

wc: 800

“I went back.”

“Why? They—”

“I don’t know. I don’t know why. I—”

“Damian, honey, breathe.”

Damian’s brothers don’t text you that often. You don’t have their numbers saved in your phone. Or you didn’t. You have Tim’s now.

come to the manor now. non-medical emergency

oh and this is tim by the way

You don’t even see the text until you’re done with your meeting, phone on do not disturb and notes document in fullscreen mode. It was sent at 1:30 in the afternoon. Bad things aren’t supposed to happen at 1:30 in the afternoon.

I’m on my way, you text back at 3:00. Is he okay? The response comes as you’re setting up your gps. no. then, i mean he’s fine but no. You pull out of your parking spot a little faster than you should have.

Once you get on the highway, you turn off the GPS. The number 21 exit towards Bristol and Wayne manor is nearly as familiar as your own. You’re thankful for the dozens of trips you’ve made because Tim calls you five minutes in.

“What happened?” You can feel your heart pounding in your chest. The anxiety that had taken root when you saw the first text is morphing quickly into fear.

“He disappeared.”

“What?”

“He’s not on manor grounds anymore. But he’s not in his suit.”

On top of the phone call screen, a push notification lets you know that Damian's code was used to disarm your alarm system. You let out a short breath and switch lanes. Your exit is the next one.

“I know where he is,” you tell Tim as you shift over into the right lane. It’s a little backed up, the way it always is this time of day, “I got him.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah, thanks.”

You take exit 24 towards the lower east side, then switch to an even more local highway and take exit 8 towards the residential district. When you pull into your parking spot in the cul-de-sac, your house looks empty. When you walk inside, Damian’s combat boots are sitting by the door, not unlaced all the way. One of them is sitting on its side. The other is askew. You let your bag slide off your shoulder to hit the ground next to your own shoes and venture further in.

Damian’s sitting on the steps in dark casual clothes and white socks with a paint blob pattern. His knees are bent, legs pressed against his chest. Your steps aren’t steep and Damian is very tall. Hands clenched into fists rest on top of his knees. His neck is bent too, forehead pressed against his fists.

You slide back on the wooden steps when you sit down. Damian doesn’t so much as twitch. You wait for him to come to you. He does.

“I went back.” His voice is rough but not thick with tears.

“Why?” You ask. The League leaves him with deep hurts every time he goes back to Nanda Parbat. And not the physical kind. “They—”

“I don’t know!” He exclaims like the words burst out of his chest. The energy propels him up, fingers digging into the arms of his sweatshirt as he rocks on his heels. “I don’t know why. I—”

“Damian, honey,” You stand to meet him. The emotions in his green eyes are wild, untethered. “Breathe.” He shakes his head at you, fingers curling harder into his sleeves. “You can.” Damian scans your body language and you let him, relaxing the tension in your shoulders and leaving your hands open, arms angled to hold him if he wants it.

“I’m here,” you say to the hesitation in his eyes. “You’re safe.”

You let out a grunt of air as Damian slams into you. His arms wrap around you tight enough that you think he’s afraid you’ll turn into smoke if he lets go. You raise your arms more slowly, one coming up to rub at his back and the other to cup the back of his neck.His knees buckle. You slow your descent to the ground only barely, saving your knees from catching the brunt of your weight. Your butt stings instead from how hard it hit the floor but it’s worth it when Damian buries his face into the junction between your neck and your collarbone and breathes. They’re choppy loud breaths that come with shoulders shuddering under the hand you have rubbing up and down his back, but no tears hit your neck.

“I’ve got you,” you whisper to him, cheek pressed against the top of his head. “You’re safe here.” Damian’s arms only tighten further. In response, you hold him tighter too.

Why do we go back, you wonder, when we know the only thing to come of it is more pain?

#red writes 5k real story fics about things that happen; i write 800 words of a not real aftermath #i'm not usually MC material but then I have days like yesterday #was it really yesterday? it feels like just now and weeks ago at the same time #damian wayne #damian wayne x reader #damian wayne imagine #damian wayne x gender neutral reader #emerson writes sometimes

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angelyuji · 2 months ago

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Hii~

I just wanted to say that I really love your works and writings :")

And can I please request more dark logan howlett?and possibly old man logan howlett?

THANK YOU

hiii!!! thank you! ur so sweet i will try my best :)

tw // perv logan, yandere behavior (lmk if i need to add any tags)

old man logan is def the type to catcall you from his porch. you could be doing the most normal activity like watering your garden or taking your dog for a walk and you’ll hear logan do a wolf whistle at you from his porch as he smokes a cigar.

he’s most def a perv and most def gross. like he’s got the vibes of a man who would skip showering for a couple days or uses like a 12 in 1 body wash/shampoo/conditioner. (sometimes after it rains, he smells like wet dog (jk lmao i just thought of that and it made me laugh))

he’s also constantlyyy looking at your ass or chest. highkey a gooner. if you wear tight fitting clothes or shorts, he’s def making soo many inappropriate comments and feeling you up. “aw, sorry, sweetheart. didn’t mean to, but yk wearing clothes like that… you’re basically asking for it.”

#as per usual i was gonna write more but im kinda being fucked in the ass by my midterms sorry #x reader #yandere #yandere x reader #gender neutral reader #logan howlet x reader #yandere logan howlett #dark logan howlett #yandere wolverine #wolverine x reader #dark wolverine #pervy neighbor

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ghouldtime · 3 months ago

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I feel like König can absolutely melt your heart like this in the kitchen while a big pot of stew is simmering. Feel like it would be mid winter, a cozy fire going in the living room, probably a smudge of paint on his face from having just completed the miniature diorama he made of your wedding day or something. I JUST FEEL LIKE HES SECRETLY A HOPELESS ROMANTIC

https://www.facebook.com/share/r/CZRSbWa5D1b2ryCA/?mibextid=uSdriS

(If you don't want to click the link, it's cool. It's like a really slow beautiful old timey princess kind of dance. Lots of twirling and the holding hands behind your back kind of thing?)

I'm sorry I'm bursting yet another bubble here 😭 while that's a sweet thought and he has plenty of romantic actions to boot, he's not a hopeless romantic or even close to it.

A hopeless romantic is someone who believes in love conquering all and they have an idealistic view of it. They're someone who believes in love, no matter what they've seen or their past. They're someone who holds onto love above all and usually centers their life around it.

He doesn't even come close. Truth be told, he's extremely pessimistic and is near the polar opposite of that 😭

He's seen a lot, experienced a lot, and has never been one to feel that way. After being ruthlessly bullied as a kid for simply existing as himself and seeing his comrades torn into meat confetti for stepping one foot too far, he's doesn't exactly have a pearly world view. He doesn't think about love first, or second, or even third, fourth, or fifth. Love wasn't a focus for him or an interest - it wasn't a necessity in that department, he's been without romantic love most of his life, why would he need it then or now?

Love didn't stop bullets from spiraling towards you on the field, love can't conquer all when things like hate, retribution, and vengeance are sung much stronger in his world. Love could motivate but it destroyed many from the inside out. He wasn't going to start believing in love or wanting it just cause.

Sure, he had familial love. He loves his parents and that did wonders in a world that was usually otherwise cruel towards him. But romantic? He wasn't ever particularly interested. To him, it's usually yet another complication in the line of things. And anyone who is nice to him, he's usually suspicious of. He doesn't let people close for a reason.

Quite frankly, he usually thinks others have ulterior motives, especially if they're trying to cozy up to him. All his life, he's pretty much been an outcast. People tended to only be nice when they wanted something. He can count on one hand the few people who have genuinely been nice to him without WANTING something from him, whether that be his perks with his rank or just to have him as a human shield as they charge into battle.

He was the awkward kid, the loner, the one no one talked to in school. He never had a romantic life there. And he went straight to the military which left him no time or room for one - not that he cared for it. It's just not something he cared for or went after because he hadn't really experienced it and it wouldn't do him any good. He's seen how many marriages end and heard of all the troubles.

He was never actively looking for it or thinking of love. He wasn't seeking it because he's seen how miserable people are in and out of it. He's very much "if it happens, it happens. If it doesn't, I'm happy with being me." König is a very independent man, he's fine on his own and is content with himself and where he stands.

I actually wouldn't describe him as any kind of romantic aside from unintentional because it's not a conscious thought! He's not doing it to woo or impress or to be a big gesture, he's just doing it because he likes you and wants to see you happy. What he does isn't born out of romance or desire or the want for either - it's just from the heart. It's an instinct.

He's not thinking of how romantic it would be as he plants your favorite flowers in his garden. He's growing them because he wants to see you happy and wants to put more of what you like in the world. He stocks your favorite drinks and snacks in his house because he wants you over - he wants you happy, comfortable, and enjoying his company. His actions are how he shows how he feels, but he's also not actively doing it because he's enamored with love itself or loving and how it feels. He doesn't care about the idea of love in particular, but he cares about you and what he feels for you.

He isn't making a diorama of the wedding because it's a romantic gesture, he's doing it because it captured how you both felt that day - and how truly beautiful you were in that moment, outshining the stars that danced above that night. He's memorializing his love in every brushstroke and clay flower, making sure to take extra care on the model he built of you. If he could relive any day over and over, it would be that. Sadly, he doesn't have that power, so he'll stick for the photos that captured it and the replicas he could make to truly memorialize it in the physical realm for years to come.

König's love isn't flashy, it isn't showy, it isn't meant to be something grand or fairytale levels of romance. It's simply his. Will he make you a ballgown if you wanted? Absolutely, but he's no prince, nor a king despite his name. Will he dance with you like that if you wanted? Absolutely. But that's not his first thought or a fantasy he really thinks of unless you implement it in his head. He's just him, living in the smaller moments of life. He doesn't need to show off to the world, he doesn't need it to be extravagant or formal, he doesn't need it to be by the books romantic - all of what he does is heartfelt, that's what he knows matters. And it has to be with and for you 💚 that's what matters the most

He's more one for holding you close and slow dancing in the kitchen as the water in the kettle boils, with no rush to be anywhere else. He's not hopelessly romantic, he's not even intentionally romantic, the only thing he's hopelessly in is love 💚

Besides, he's gotta save some moves for the wedding to make it that much more special 👀(he's signing you both up for ballroom dancing the second you express wanting anything like that. He's already picking out the fabric for the dress too)

#cod #call of duty #call of duty x reader #cod modern warfare #konig x reader #konig cod #konig x you #konig call of duty #konig headcanons #könig headcanons #könig x reader #könig cod #könig call of duty #könig #gender neutral reader #reader insert #neighbor! König #he doesn't do it intentionally he just thinks about it. he happens to be rather considerate and attentive #sorry but he just isn't one to think about love or romance or do grand gestures like pull out a bouquet of dozens of roses #he'll instead pull out one of your favorite flowers that he grew himself #his thing is more so depth of emotion and expressing himself rather than simply aiming to be romantic or trying to be #he's just showing that he loves you and appreciates you! his words don't always say it so his actions will #he also didn't have romantic love for like... forever #and his experiences with it have been awful so romance is usually a no-go for him #he also thinks a lot of time modern romance is disingenuous and is built on showmanship over actual love and care so he isn't a fan #he's a downer with relationships when he sees them as he knows most won't work out #that's part of why he's so careful in knowing you before he commits to anything and WHY he's trying his best here

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eats-a-berry · 1 year ago

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#clone high #this is the shittiest thing ive ever drawn but i need to explain my vision #ALSO just in case making topher say this is like. completely neutral. ot just happens to be a discoudse topic #i have my own opinion but we arent going to fight about it #i jsut think this whenever i see people draw him with that flag LOLL #actually hang on i just reLzied its usually gender and sexuality alliance now #topher would be on top of that

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playfully-sadistic · 4 months ago

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When subs want to touch their dom so bad that they desperately pull on their restraints, their brows pulled together in frustration, their gaze fixated on where your hands flow, hover, brush, rub over your body, and they let out little pathetic whimpers when your fingers cross an area they're especially eager to explore, but they're reduced to watch, as you get yourself off right in front of their nose, your taste almost on their tongue, your smell intoxicating their dazed mind, the warmth of your skin not yet close enough for their liking, and it's slowly, steadily driving them absolutely insane.

#my own #female sub #male sub #nb sub #trans sub #gender neutral post #I love it when subs are pathetic #They usually are so I'm always winning #denial.#masturbation.#restraints.#bondage.

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itsabea · 3 months ago

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Drunk!March x Reader who doesn't drink || Part 2

Description: After March gets you a drink at the bar and discovers that you don't drink, things take an unexpected turn when he comforts, and continues to talk to you in his drunken state.

Warnings: alcohol, swearing, one mention of internalised pressure to drink(ft. young March, not Reader)

Part One: here

"I don't drink.." You mumbled out as March's brain cogs seeming to stop, only to start up again to take in your words. "You don't.. Drink.." He repeated, making you slouch in on yourself in embarrassment. "Oh...." March exclaimed, frowning deeply as you sighed.

This wasn't how your night was supposed to go.. You were supposed to be enjoying yourself, not getting all nervous over some stupid, horrid tasting drink. Part of you wanted to leave.. But the next thing March said kept you in your seat.

"Well- I guess that's fair.. It tasted like crap to me for three weeks straight...." March said, taking a momentary swig back of his current beer before smiling at you widely. "Buut, that doesn't mean shit if you don't get anything out of it." He said, a goofy smile now spread even wider across his face.

You frowned at his words, not because they didn't make sense, but because they sounded strange coming from someone like March.

It actually had you wondering if he was more than just some ass that liked to belittle you. "I guess.. Thanks, March." You finally said, still slouching in on your self, but allowing your shoulders to relax a bit.

"No problem." He said back with a lopsided smile before taking another swig of beer.

A strange silence grew between you and March before either of you spoke, but strangely enough, it wasn't heavy or uncomfortable for you. So, when you spoke up it was because of curiosity instead of obligation.

"So, what got you past the disgusting taste?" You said, mixing around the beer in its container as you looked at it with distain. March gave out a noise that resembled the words 'I dunno' as he shrugged and took another sip of his beer before elaborating. "Everyone else was drinking.. Felt wrong not to." He said, which made you frown and contemplate again about possibility of March being a decent person..

"If I was a strong as you, I probably wouldn't have kept at it.." March said, flustering you with the sudden, strange complement.

Did March.. Really just call you strong?? Maybe you misheard him call you stubborn? He is drunk, and he could've just misspoken- "Still can't believe how much you've managed to do.. Town looks and operates so much fucking better than it did before.." March said with visible irritation in his tone, and taking a much heavier swig of beer.

"Oh- Thanks, I-" You started, but didn't get to finish your words as a result of March speaking past you. "Strong, determined, resourceful, fucking kind- I mean, what the hell can't you do..??" March said, facing you with squinted eyes that bored into you like he was trying to find and figure something out.

Unfortunately, March didn't seem to find what he wanted after staring at you for a good few seconds, and with the embarrassed heat spreading across your face, you were now fairly certain that this man would be the death of you. "Hm." March said after having gone back to his drink, leaving you very confused and the slightest bit more flustered.

After a few more conversations with March, you decided to call it a night and head back home before your exhaustion managed to catch up with you. And to your surprise, March ended up being drunk enough to cling to your arm when you announced that you'd be heading home.

"No." March demanded with a pout as you smiled at him with fondness and confusion. "I've got to go home, March." You said back, now thinking of a way that might sway him to let go, only for said male to repeat his words with a frown and much bigger pout. "No."

You sighed in partial annoyance, but mostly amusement at the strange display. "You'll see me tomorrow, March. I'll be sure to visit the Forge and upgrade my tools, okay?" You said, only for March to make a face and hold onto you tighter.

"No. I'll just be an ass to you again.." March said, pouting even more as if he himself hated the way he treated you.

"Come on, March.. Your not.... Your not that bad.." You lied, knowing full well that March's words would sometimes hit you right where you're most insecure and vulnerable.

"Don't fucking lie.. I'm an ass to you.... Don't wanna keep being an ass to you.." He said, slurring his words as he slumped slightly like a sad, old dog.

You couldn't help but purse your lips, thinking of something to say to March that was both true, and would allow you to free yourself from his hold on you.

"Then.. Teach me some smithing techniques when I'm at the Forge tomorrow. You'll be so busy showing off how cool you are, that you probably won't insult me as much." You offered, mentally kicking yourself for roping future you into a smithing lesson with March.

With a low, 'hmpf', March let go of your arm and leaned against the bar counter slightly. He was still pouting, but his cheeks were now dusted in a light red.

"I'll see you tomorrow at 2 then.. Don't be late, or I won't be teaching you anything." March said, watching you not-so-subtly as you smiled at him before bidding him, and the rest of the patrons a goodnight.

The next day had you worried, yet extremely productive. You were up an hour before usual, had watered and fed your animals in record time, and had even finished todays Request in the matter of minutes because you had already foraged plenty of the needed material the day before.

You ended up heading to the forge at 1:40 with all the ores for upgrading your tools. All day, you had been avoiding the whole area of said shop, going so far as to take the path through The Narrows and through your farm to get from The Eastern Ruins to The Western Ruins. That was a whole hour that you'll never get back, and yet you're fully willing to do so again.

Your worries and nerves for seeing March today were frankly making your day a lot harder than need be. And the thing that had you take a breath and relax? The thing that had you actually pluck up the courage to wholeheartedly stick to your agreement with March's drunk state?

It was when you talked with Olric at the General Store, where he told you that March spent all morning sobering up while writing out some "lesson plan", and that he had been at the forge looking anxious and only half working since 10.

Needless to say, you thanked him profusely and headed straight home for your needed ores. And when you finally got sight of the Forge.. March was tapping his foot on the floor with impatience while what looked to be pacing.

The relieved sigh that escaped you formed into a content smile that you didn't even want to hold back. "Your late." March said when he caught sight of you nearing his shop. "-But I'll let it slide.." He said quickly after as your smile grew ever so slightly.

"What's that look for? C'mon, let's get to work.." March said, turning as you mentally thanked your past self for making that deal. You now got to see a new, slightly nicer, and much less drunken side of March.

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sparklingyandere · 1 year ago

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Cabin Anthology

Childe/GN! Reader

summary: a somewhat broken darling reflects on their captivity

word count: 2.5k

warnings: stockholm syndrome, violence, asphyxiation, childe is called ajax, manipulation, abuse, dissociation, codependence, anxiety and paranoia, neglect

Sometimes, Ajax went away for long periods of time.

He would leave the pantry barely stocked, forcing you to ration for yourself for archons-know how long, and he'd lock away all the matches and kindling so the cabin was always freezing.

In your first few weeks in your new home, he left only for hours or days at a time, returning with food or firewood, never warning you when he'd come back.

At first, you used that time to the fullest, scrambling through every inch of the little cabin he kept you in, searching for any secrets you could exploit.

You thought about escaping so often then, your every waking moment spent contemplating how you'd do it, convincing Ajax you could be left alone, and biding your time until the perfect opportunity.

Then, your opportunity came. Ajax, seemingly out of nowhere, gifted you a novel written in your home country, which he must have had imported just for you.

"Here, to keep you entertained while I'm gone," he said, the word ‘gone’ attracting your attention more than the gift itself, "I'm going on a… a trip. For a week." He was coy about this 'trip,' as if you were dumb. "Can I trust you here by yourself for that long, darling?" he asked, cupping your cheek tenderly, in stark contrast to his threatening words. His tone was playful, but you picked up on the ‘hidden’ warning. Regardless, you nodded your head eagerly, promising good behavior, ushering him out the door. A whole week! You could be halfway to Natlan by then.

The following attempt was such an explosive failure, you remember it like it was yesterday. Ajax unexpectedly came back from his trip several days early, swinging the wooden door wide open with a call of your name- only to see you knelt on the floor before him with a pin in hand- you had been caught red-handed picking the lock.

Time seemed to be still in that moment, you remember struggling to read Ajax's blank expression, his dead eyes seeming to look through you, not at you. Then, without warning, he grabbed you by the arm and flung you out the door into the Snezhnayan winter.

It was cold. You held your arms out to catch your fall and they were buried almost to the elbow in freezing snow. You turned back to look at Ajax, who was glaring at you from the doorframe.

"You want out there? Fine." He slammed the door shut and clicked the lock.

Shivering, you looked around and saw, for the first time, the outside of your cozy prison. It rested in a wide clearing surrounded by a dense pine forest that seemed to stretch forever. Over the trees, distantly, you saw mountains.

You tried to stand up on your wobbly, trembling knees, struggling to find balance in the thick snow. You quickly came to realize that you were severely underdressed for this cold, in only thin, loose fabric. No worries, you could still make this work. After all, you were outside, that was the hard part, really.

Luckily, you could see Ajax's trail of smushed snow and walk through his bootprints. Every barefooted step towards the treeline was pure torture, but hopefully you could follow the trail to wherever Ajax was coming from.

The frosty air seemed to seep quickly through your flesh and into your bones. You could barely feel your feet, extremities already becoming numb and legs getting stiff, but you forced yourself to keep going. You had to try.

You looked back towards the cabin; smoke was now pouring from the chimney. You thought about the warm fire Ajax must have lit, you longingly pictured the thick fur coat he had been wearing when he opened the door, and you felt…

Hopeless. You were never getting out of here.

You took a few more wobbly steps, so close to the treeline. Maybe I can use sticks to make a fire, you thought, the snow is thinner under the trees, surely it will be smooth sailing from there. You managed another step before your knees gave out and you felt the cold hug of the snow. Snowflakes melted instantly against your warmer skin, leaving you freezing and wet.

You close your eyes. At least you tried.

Some time (minutes, hours?) later, you felt your cold body being lifted from the snow and wrapped in something soft and warm. Instantly, you cuddled into it, coherent thoughts slowly returning to your mind. You're so relieved that you're alive, you forget where you are, you don't even bother to open your eyes and simply snuggle closer into the warmth.

You yelp in surprise when you're suddenly dropped onto the hard, dry floor.

Ajax kneels over you, his usually sharp features downturned with concern.

You stared at him blankly for a moment, your still-foggy brain swirling with conflicting emotions. You struggled over whether to be angry or thankful, but in the end, the only thing that mattered to you in that moment was that you were so cold, and Ajax was so warm.

You crawl forward into his arms, which wrap around you perfectly, like two thick, heavy blankets. He hugs you tightly, a warm hand gently combing through your hair. “‘m sorry,” you whimper, bluish lips barely able to form the words you want to say.

"What did we learn?" He asked gently, his voice was barely a whisper, but his hot breath against your neck felt like a kiss.

You didn't try to escape again after that.

Ajax's love was like quicksand. It sucked you in and suffocated you, much like the man himself. When he wasn't out for 'business' (he always tiptoed around the subject, like you didn't know who he was) he was attached to you at the hip.

Tonight was one such night. A blizzard raged outside, making it impossible to see out the frosty windows. The cabin was dark, and you sighed through chattering teeth, these stormy nights were among the creepiest, the gravity of your situation being significantly more difficult to ignore. Ajax had his arm slung over your shoulder, a thick quilt- sewn by his mother as a housewarming gift- settled around both your shoulders. You could barely make out the curves of his face in the dim lighting, but you didn't need to see him to feel his gaze.

He lifted a nimble hand to stroke your face. His calloused hand was cold too, freezing and rough, and you flinched away, shivering. Despite that, he smiled. "Is my bunny cold?" he teased.

"No," you whined, unconvincing, curling the blanket ever tighter around yourself as Ajax pulled away from you, taking his body heat with him. He strode over to the stone fireplace along the far wall of your small living den, and you watched him kneel before it, lamenting the Ajax-shaped emptiness in the seat next to you.

You intently watched Ajax strike a match, a small, orange light illuminating his face. The dark shadows contrasting the warm glow made his face look strangely creepy, but also accentuated his sharp, strangely handsome features. You couldn't help but smile weakly as he kindled the little match into a flame. Ajax always kept you warm, you couldn't survive a place like this without him. you wouldn't be in a place like this without him, part of you thinks, a small, quiet part that gets quieter every day. You smother the thought.

The fire steadily grew, warmer and brighter, and Ajax turned to you, smiling expectantly. You snapped out of your thoughts and sit up straight. "Thank you, Ajax," you mutter, obediently.

He opens a storage chest by the fireplace and pulls out a hardcover book and some pillows. "Won't you come sit with me?" he orders, and you crawl off the sofa, pulling the blanket alongside you, to sit on the wooden floor next to Ajax. The warm light of the fireplace allows you to see his book in more detail. Snezhnayan Fairy Tales, it looks old: faded, greyish-brown covers and a fancy title typed in an outdated font. It's edges were slightly frayed, worn down from being held by so many hands.

Ajax settles a pillow between his legs and invites you to lay in his lap. You do so, letting the heat from the fire combined with his warmth sink deeply into you, making you sleepy. Ajax cracks open his dusty book- literally, it makes a crack sound as it opens, possibly for the first time in years- flips the pages to a random story and starts reading to you in a gentle, coddling voice.

Naively, you think to yourself that this perfect evening could only be better with a warm cup of cocoa, as if this was normal, cute even, like you were lovers on a couples retreat. You don't have much time to ponder before Ajax's voice lulls you soundly to sleep.

Ajax was haunted by a hunger you could never sate; his dull, deep-blue eyes glazing over with a need you didn't understand. He would suddenly vanish, unannounced, in the middle of the day, often leaving you wondering how long you'd be forced to fend for yourself in your freezing hellscape.

Hours later, he'd stumble through the main door, cheerful like nothing had happened, the light having returned to his eyes, making him look almost sane. Usually, you were so happy he hadn't left you for dead, you could ignore the mysterious stains on his clothes- they were probably there before- and the faint, rusty odor he carried.

(If you dared ask where he went, he'd dance around the topic, merely chastising you for poking your nose where it ‘doesn't belong,’ changing the topic to something he deemed appropriate for you. The double life he had, for some reason, he was desperate to keep it secret from you, like he thought you couldn't handle it.)

You recall one dark day in particular, in which you had awoken from a peaceful slumber to a completely empty house…

Ajax rarely let you wake up alone, so you were instantly on edge. Tentatively, you explored each room, one by one, calling out Ajax's name. Each second you couldn't find him, your yelling became increasingly panicked, breathing becoming more and more erratic. So what if he isn't home, you tried to console yourself, to no avail, he leaves all the time… except, since the incident, he never left without saying goodbye.

Where had he gone? What if he was finally bored of you- you had been settling a bit too much into routine lately- and he abandoned you here to freeze to death?

You paced back and forth through the house for what felt like hours, mind racing with worst-case scenarios. In truth, you had no idea what time it was, but when the faint glow through the windows transitioned from yellow to orange to silver, you officially feared the worst.

Unable to control your anxiety, you sank to your knees and let out a desperate scream. It was over, Ajax was gone and you'd either freeze or starve-

The door creaked open, Ajax's concerned, but chipper voice echoing in your ears, “Bunny? You okay? I heard-”

You jerk your head up, teary eyes making contact with Ajax's beautiful face as he finally walks in, and you start sobbing with relief. You leap to your feet and throw yourself onto him. Seeing your sorry state, Ajax chuckles and wraps his arms around you, “Aww, I missed you too, cutie” He teases, and even through your hysterics, you find the energy to be angry.

“You left! How could you laugh at me-?” You hiccup through your sobs, only tickling Ajax more. You beat your fists against his chest angrily, to no effect. “I was so…” you trail off with a sniffle.

Ajax manages to quiet his blatant snickering long enough to cajole you, taking your swinging fists in his hands to still them. “It's okay, Bunny, I'm here now… I would never leave you, silly.” His condescending tone is not lost on you, but you are too exhausted from bawling to care, finally giving into him. Just as you always do. One of his hands presses against the back of your head, holding you against his chest and gently stroking your scalp. The soothing gesture makes you just sleepy enough that when he scoops his free arm under your knees, you don't resist.

You and Ajax both worked quite hard to maintain the flimsy illusion that this relationship was any kind of happy, any semblance of normal. Your sanity depended on it, but even so, the facade sometimes slipped.

The murky, cold dishwater swallows your hands up to your wrists. You mindlessly scrub porcelain, staring at the reflective metal basin. Your reflection is warped by the water, you barely recognize yourself. Not that you could anyways.

You look back at your failed attempts to resist or reason with him and cringe. Each night spent locked in the cellar, until your fists ached from banging the door and your voice was raw from crying out to him, still haunted you.

That cellar- he must have had it built just to torture you- it had never been used for anything else. It was a wide, empty room with four concrete walls and a filthy dirt floor. Once, you stupidly tried to exploit your cellar time by digging a hole in the corner, trying to burrow out like some…

Like some kind of bunny.

Of course, you got caught, when Ajax came down the creaky steps to fetch you (maybe he found your lack of wailing suspicious) with a storm lantern in hand. By the light of the lantern, your little crater, only a few inches deep, was all-too visible. He was so angry, he…

…You put your hands over his, not prying them away, just holding tightly onto him. Though you are pleading with your eyes for him to let you go, secretly, deep down, you hope that he won't, because the warmth of his hands and the burning in your lungs makes you feel alive. It makes adrenaline course through your nerves in a terrible, exciting way that you learned to love, because if you didn't, you wouldn't survive…

You shudder at the memory. Best not to think about it.

A warm hand resting itself on your shoulder pulls you out of your thoughts. You jump away from the touch, skittish, and Ajax laughs. Over the years, you had come to hate that melodic sound, as it always seemed to be at your expense.

You pull your hands from the water to see that they were pruned and wrinkly. How long have you been standing here?

“S-sorry, Ajax, I don't know what's gotten into me…” you mutter, still coming to terms with the reality you were in.

His hand on your shoulder trailed down your arm, eventually clasping your still-wet hand. “That's okay, Bunny, you'll make it up to me,” he remarks playfully. Before you can ask how, he starts pulling you with him down the hall.

In the end, though, you know it doesn't matter. You'd do anything to keep him happy, and not just because your life might depend on it. You were hesitant to admit it to yourself, and certainly never to him, but you knew why.

Sometimes, you think he knew it, too.

#yandere genshin impact #yandere genshin x reader #yandere x reader #yandere genshin #yandere #yandere childe #yandere tartaglia #yandere childe x reader #gender neutral reader #my first time writing for childe! yay!#tag readers and childe fans: do you prefer to see him called childe #or ajax or something else #and on that note what name do you prefer for the reader?#i usually prefer to just avoid calling them anything but a nickname felt right here #thank you for reading <3

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solargeist · 7 months ago

Note

What you said about Grian keeping his modesty even after leaving the Watchers.... Hmmmm.... Grian in Hijab.... Yes that's the shit...

i think hijabs are just for women ! i'm unsure what the male equivalent is

But ! The Watchers i write are inspired by Catholicism, his mum is a nun who veils. This is also just for women, but if he wereeee to veil then it'd be something like that--i mean not the full extent of a nun, but there are head scarves that allow hair and neck to be shown

headscarves are very pretty regardless tho <3

#ask #hijabis fr look like princesses anytime i see them on tiktok im awe struck #<- which i hope is ok to say ! i think flowing fabric is pretty #i used to draw Tommey veiling with a bandana ! pagans also veil and i think its gender neutral #also im a pretty modest person too so i always prefer drawing clothes/extra layers *_*#modesty is also a touchy subject i dont think anyone should be forced to cover.-#-you should only dress how ur comfortable. and never tell others how to either !-#-regardless of religion imo !! religion is very personal !#Catholics usually only veil within churches but it depends eh #AUGH im thinking abt kid xelqua again. always seeing his mum wear a veil so he does too. just bc hes a kid. they copy. so cuTE #in 3L he should wear a veil and no one knows he has cat ears #i think more people should write the watchers using their own religions it'd be rly interesting i think #PERSONALLY i always saw veiling as ... protection from evil eye ? i guess how i'd word it ? and less abt ~purity or whatever

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the-moon-files · 1 year ago

Text

Linked Universe Incorrect Quotes (ft. Masc!You)

Your many, many nicknames: Guide, Hero's Guide, Lead, Star (Guiding Star), Princey, Prince

Reader: (he/him)

(This gif got chosen bc i fully believe they could get goofy enough to act like the monty python campaign sometimes)

Wars, wistfully: I love hearing my Guide shouting at someone else. It makes such a nice change.

♡

You: Listen, listen, the ‘how the fucks’ and 'why are you so dumbs’ don’t matter. All that matters is that I have a magic gun.

♡

Hyrule, looking at your unconscious body: I need a moment alone to heal him.

The Rest of the Chain: Of course, take care of him please.

(leaves)

Hyrule, leaning over you: Okay, listen here you little shit. I know you’re not asleep.

You, sitting up: Yeah, no shit.

♡

Sky: Ha! Don't you know the trappers trap can trap the trapper??

Sky: ...I must be losing it, I'm quoting Star.

♡

(dead quiet in camp, everyone knowing the look on your face when you get annoyed at their reckless/self-sacrificing actions)

You: When I die, I want every Link here to lower me into my grave so they can let me down one last time.

(explosion of arguing and several "Hey wait a minute-!"s)

♡

Time, accidentally forgetting never to ask his Guide for advice: If this plan goes down the drain, where should we regroup?

You: The afterlife, I guess.

♡

You: Why is it that I always lose things as soon as I need them?!

Four: Actually, it's not that you lose things when you need them. You lose them a while before. It's just that you LOOK for things when you need them.

You: Okay yeah thanks so much Link, that's great to hear, now, WHERE'S THE FUCKING FIRST AID KIT??

♡

Legend: But what do I get out of it Princey?

You: A night of fashion, mischief, mayhem, and possible death.

Legend: Ooh, check, check, and check; not sure about that last one tho.

You: It won't be you.

Legend: I'll get my rings.

♡

You: Why are you guys acting like this??

Twilight: Oh, we're not acting. We really are like this.

♡

Link: Cause your pretty and your smart, and your ignoring me so your obviously my type.

You, who was distracted: I'm sorry- what were you saying?

Link: Perfect.

♡

Thanks for reading this shitpost lmao

I just needed smth more my flavor of reader, and reader/Chain so I made this snack to satisfy me for now

Ill probably be making a fic in the future but for now bs like this will have to do

(Might use some of these quotes in it acc lol)

Peace out,

🌙

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