#... now I'm even more worried about what that means

[flowersforbucky]

lacy

bucky barnes x reader

i don't usually write short drabbles for bucky but i miss him and thought i'd put this little thought into words to get out of a bit of a writing slump that i've been in ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ happy valentine's day, babies

summary: bucky doesn't remember undergarments having so much fucking lace in the forties. but he thinks he can get used to it.

warnings/tags: 18+ mdni, adult themes, sensuality and implied smut, language, reader is afab, sweet teasing and banter, tfatws era

word count: 770+

bucky barnes masterlist

“What? Was lingerie not a thing back in the forties?”

Bucky watches from his position on the bed as you unzip your cocktail dress, the fabric falling from your shoulders and to the floor around your feet. He lays back against the headboard, his hands crossed behind his head. His eyes roam from the strappy heels that you have yet to shed and up your legs until his eyes settle on the black lace thigh holster that connects to a garter belt and matching panties.

You remove the small pistol from the holster, placing it on the dresser beside you before stepping away from the pool of burgundy colored satin at your feet. You crawl onto the bed, the peaks of your breasts threatening to spill out of your bra. You look up at him with a raised brow, still awaiting an answer to your question.

“It was,” he hums. “Can’t say I ever saw anything quite like this, though.”

He’s never seen anything quite like you is what he’s really thinking, but he bites his tongue. His feelings for you are far from being a secret, but he sometimes worries that if he truly spoke his mind every time he thought about how attractive he finds you, he’d never shut up.

His words are still true, though. He’d seen plenty of silk nightgowns and camisoles, but this – the intricate floral embroidery, the lace-lined edges of the cups of your bra, and the way the tight material accentuates every one of your curves just right – this is new territory for him.

“Never?” you quip. You crawl over him, positioning yourself across his lap. His hands come to rest on either side of your hips, the contrasting warmth of flesh and iciness of vibranium eliciting goosebumps across your exposed skin. “Not even online?”

He digs the tips of his fingers into the meat of your hips with the faintest amount of pressure. He doesn’t miss the way it makes you squirm, your clothed center nudging against the growing bulge concealed by his jeans.

“Online?” He huffs a laugh. “I think you’re forgetting that I have a flip phone.”

“Would it convince you to finally get a smartphone if I said I’d send you pictures of me wearing shit like this?”

He laughs, confident that you’d do just that. Considering the fact that you had been teasing him during a mission just a few hours prior, he doesn’t doubt for a second that you’d be more than happy to utilize technology to make him flustered.

“Tempting,” he admits. He dips a metal finger under the waistband of your panties, toying with it before lightly popping it against your skin. “But I have a hard time believing that pictures could do the real thing justice.”

You roll your eyes, playfully poking him in a spot between his ribs that you know to be ticklish. “You’re no fun.”

As swiftly as he can, he flips you so that you’re now pinned between him and the mattress. You look up at him with wide eyes, taken off guard by the sudden change in positions. Still, you automatically spread your legs enough for him to lay between them. He hovers above you, his gaze trailing from the mounds of your breast that peak out from the confines of the lacy bra and up to your lips.

He sits back on his knees, pulling your thigh back so he can grab one of your feet in his hands. He slowly slips the high heel off, not taking his eyes off of you as he tosses it behind him on the bed. He repeats the motion with your other foot, and presses a chaste kiss to the inside of your ankle.

“I'm no fun, huh? Does that mean you don’t want to sit on my face?”

Teasing you a little won’t hurt, he supposes. You’re normally the one dishing it out, and he’s normally the one blushing like a school girl – but he’s got to admit, he likes the way you’re looking at him right now. His heightened senses pick up on the familiar scent of your arousal and your quickened heart rate. He doesn’t need you to vocalize how you’re feeling or what you want; your body gives you away.

“Are you gonna take all of this off of me, or am I gonna have to?”

Your voice is teasing, but Bucky doesn’t miss the edge of impatience that slips through. He chuckles, taking one last, long look at the frilly undergarments. He likes them a lot, he can’t deny it – but he likes you without them even more.

recent bucky fics

all's well that ends well to end up with you - bucky isn't going to let an extended mission, a severe thunderstorm, and a delayed flight ruin your first valentine's day together

starry eyed - reader gets a gift from her secret santa

[awkward-teabag]

No but seriously, this is big problem that keeps getting worse and worse.

It used to be you could expect to be able to run new games for years after buying new hardware. Not even top-of-the-line hardware, high-mid tier was good enough. Yes you would have to turn settings down eventually but you could still play at medium to high settings for years to come (unless there was a sudden tech breakthrough).

Now you can spend over a thousand on a new top-end graphics card only for some games a year later recommending you only play on medium settings at the highest.

Don't need to optimize textures, SSDs will compensate for it (and fuck anyone who uses an HDD).

Don't need to worry about memory leaks 'cause RAM will cover that up (and fuck anyone who has 16GB or less).

Don't need to worry about smooth FPS at 1440p/4k, let AI handle the upscaling (and fuck anyone who wants a steady 60 FPS without system stutters or a high power draw).

Don't worry about low VRAM on GPUs, future software will fix it* (and fuck anyone who doesn't use an Nvidia card).

*at the expense of FPS

There's not massive graphical leaps these days, not like there was between console generations in the 90s, 00s, and even into the 10s. Games these days look similar to ones that came out five years ago but the minimum specs has ballooned.

There's no reason why Indiana Jones and the Great Circle needs those specs to run while it looks on par (maybe worse) than games like Assassin's Creed: Valhalla or Ghost of Tsushima. Even Cyberpunk 2077 has a generous minimum requirement compared to what AAA publishers have been putting out these days. It's noticeably less than the recommended specs but it's still specs that are more than a couple years old.

To be clear, I'm not just blaming developers for this. Publishers restart projects (sometimes multiple times) and that can mean losing years of optimization. Developers who are used to working with confines of tech specs and/or know how to account for backwards compatibility get fired so shareholders can get more money. MBAs call the shots even if they have no knowledge or experience with programming. MBAs/tech bros/CEOs are used to always having access to high-end hardware/fast internet.

The list goes on. Losing the confines of physical media has allowed for bad practices to flourish and consumers pay the price.

game developers you are banished to wii hardware limits until you learn your lesson

[bonefall]

Is there beef with the Holstein cows and you or what was that joke lol

It's kind of wild It's just never come up on this blog before, but I HATE holsteins. Bottom 10 cow breeds for me. I hate how they're so common they account for the majority of milk produced. I hate that they're the "default" cow to the point where some don't even know cattle HAVE other colors. I hate their tiny horns (IF THEY EVEN HAVE THAT. LOSER ASS HORNLESS COW) and their painfully massive udders.

Legit I'm trying so hard to not launch into a No Mouth Must Scream style AM speech-- shoot my hand slipped.

(AM speech about why i dont like holsteins below the cut)

For starters, I have to give a brief lesson on what these terms mean; the "Holstein" is the American strain of the "Frisian" breed. Frisians are an ancient breed from Frisia, in the north of what we now consider the Netherlands. Crosses between the breeds are "Holstein-Frisians."

(There’s even more to this but im keeping it as simple as possible. Also one of my friends is Frisian and she is probably going to kill me for describing it like that.)

Historically, livestock was adapted to the environment they lived in. Frisians were bred by the Frisii people for hundreds of years in extremely grass-rich, lush, flat environments. The "polders" of the northern parts of the Netherlands. They're huge and eat a LOT of food.

Traditional Frisians were developed to produce as much meat and milk from a single individual as possible, without compromising the health of the cattle with constant inbreeding to get quick gains. We are talking about a breed that is over 2000 years old. They had the perfect environment to make The Ultimate Food Cow and by god they did it. I can respect that.

So, take that, drag it across an ocean to a place that does NOT have polders, and add the rapid enshittification of capitalism to it. BAM you've got a fucking holstein.

There is ONE goal for "improving" the holstein. Make More Milk. As long as the black and white milkbag leaks enough, nothing else matters. Health? Fertility? Feed ratio? Ability to not die of infection? WHO CARES. MILK LINE GO UP.

Over 90% of holsteins are inbred to start with, because Milk Line Go Up. To the tune of having an average COI of 8%-- where extreme negative effects (think Hapsburgs) start to crop up around 10%

Holstein bulls are aggressive bastards (many dairy bulls are), so no one wants to keep intact males in their herds, meaning most cows are artificially inseminated

Not being limited by the natural lifespan of a living bull means that the same stud can keep having direct offspring for decades after his death

Toystory the bull had 500,000 calves before he died, and hit over 1 million offspring in 2015. That's ONE animal and to put this in perspective, there are 9 million holsteins in the US.

DON'T WORRY IT GETS WORSE

Not only can 99% of holsteins be traced back to just two bulls-- 99% of male holsteins share one of two exact Y chromosomes with those two bulls.

The gene pool is so small that it's equivalent to about 60 individuals. Warrior Cat allegiances are larger than that. That's barely bigger than modern ThunderClan.

"Massive lack of genetic diversity" does not begin to capture the existential dread of this situation. Mark my words, WATCH, when the Bird Flu finally mutates a strain that rips through a mammalian population, it's gonna be in the USA and it's going to be through our dairy cattle.

This is not prophecy or me laying a curse on the land, this is the natural consequence of basing the stability of US milk production on the equivalent of 9 million clones of two classrooms worth of individuals, and then packing them in close quarters

And we don't have to wait for doomsday for the impacts to be apparent on the cattle themelves

Holstein fertility has also dropped by half since the 1960s when the intensive inbreeding really kicked into high gear

Because their whole body is dedicating all of their resources to milk production, they have a notoriously "bony" frame.

Show judges, however, like this because they think that's a very "feminine" look for a 1600 pound ruminant. Very normal thing to think.

Like. I don't know if i can communicate this to people who don't look at cows a lot (it's not quite as obviously dramatic as a pug skull) but here is a comparison of an "ideal" show holstein and an "unselected" holstein from a herd that's been established as a sort of "control group" for what they looked like back in the 1960s;

The way that the artery on the "modern" cow's belly runs to the udder like a big pink worm freaks me out the most ngl

The udder also bulges out from between the back legs

The show cow is so thin

And then compare these both to a Holstein-Frisian cross who leans more on the Frisian side;

Proper weight, developed legs. Its biggest "problem" is actually just the udder shape-- deep udders, which "hang" low like that, aren't optimal for milk-focused breeds because the higher away from the ground the less chance there is of infection. In that department, the "unselected" holstein clearly outclasses the holstein-frisian.

But it probably won't be surprising to hear that the "show holstein," with its massive, swollen udder, is SUPER prone to infections such as mastitis.

But it is also just more prone to getting sick generally

And, to keep up with these insane demands, holsteins need a TON of food. You aren't going to just turn these things out into a pasture and be done with it. Even its ancestor the Frisian needed premium Dutch polder grass to be such a good cow-- crank that up to 11 with these Monuments to Humanity's Hubrice

The Texas Longhorn developed in semi-feral conditions and can eat a bush to become the best thing in a 10 mile radius. The Scottish Highland was iron-forged in upland moors with a steady diet of turf and rain.

Meanwhile if a Holstein has less than 5 homemade meals a day without poland spring bottled water it will die to death.

And the WORST part? You have to use these if you want to make money in dairy farming. It's WAAY too expensive to just run a suboptimal farm. Their milk isn't great, but they sure do make a lot of it.

...so Holsteins and Holstein-Frisians (and other "super efficient" breeds) have absolutely decimated heritage cattle. The American Milking Devon is a deep reddish brown with gorgeous horns and low maintenance; rare. Randall Linebacks are painted with lines of white speckles down the back and can be used for any purpose; critically endangered. The Niata was a pug-faced cow who could fight jaguars; extinct.

And THAT'S what makes me hate them most of all. I LOVE cows, but whenever I see a reference to one, it's a holstein. It's always boring black and white splotches with big pink udders. They're practically synonymous with "cow" when their homogeniety is actually hiding much cooler breeds from you.

Did you know cows can be tiger-striped?

And that England has its own type of longhorn?

Or that cow horns can twist upwards like an antelope?

And that they can have REALLY LONG ears?

And that they can be blue?

And that's not even getting into some of the cows that have gotten a small crumb of attention lately, such as Highlands, Ankole-Watusi, and Texas Longhorns. There's so many cool cows out there! And they're all really different from holsteins! MOST of them are also a lot healthier and produce tastier milk and meat!

TL;DR yeah i don't like holsteins and I like sniping at them. For reasons both legit and petty.

[batboysanonymous]

Bird in a Cage

Azriel x Reader

Summary: Grief turned Y/N into a ghost of herself, drowning in the unbearable silence of a bond that should have shattered—unaware that her mate still breathed, just beyond her reach.

Based on the song: BLUE by Billie Eilish

───────────────────────────────

Mm, mm, mm I try to live in black and white, but I'm so blue I'd like to mean it when I say I'm over you But that's still not true (blue) And I'm still so blue, oh

The City of Starlight was quieter without him.

The kind of silence that did not soothe but suffocated. Velaris had always been a place of light, a sanctuary carved from the darkness, but now, it was a tomb.

Y/N barely recognized herself in the mirror anymore. Where her eyes had once shimmered with life, they were dull now, hollowed by grief. Her skin had paled, lips always cracked from the cold air she no longer cared to shield herself from. Even the bond—her soul’s tether to Azriel—was silent.

It should have broken the moment he died. Should have shattered inside her like glass.

But it hadn’t.

And she hated that it hadn’t.

A cruel, empty thing.

She thought maybe she had imagined it sometimes—the way her chest ached like something tethered her still. But that was just grief, wasn’t it? The way her mind refused to let him go, the way her soul still searched for him, as if refusing to accept the truth.

Her mate. Her husband. Her best friend. Gone.

She curled further into the window seat, a blanket draped over her shoulders, though it did nothing to warm her. Beyond the glass, Velaris glittered under the night sky, so full of life, of movement.

It was unbearable.

“Y/N.”

Rhysand’s voice was gentle, but she did not turn to look at him.

She knew how he saw her. Knew what he was thinking.

That she was slipping away. That she had already slipped too far.

“I brought you dinner.”

She swallowed, staring at the plate that appeared on the small table beside her.

It was her favorite meal. And she had no appetite.

She hadn’t for weeks.

“Eat,” Rhys pressed, lowering himself onto the armchair across from her.

She didn’t.

He sighed.

I thought we were the same (I thought we were the same) Birds of a feather (birds of a feather), now I'm ashamed

“Feyre is worried about you,” he said carefully. “We all are.”

She clenched her jaw.

“Y/N…”

“There’s nothing to talk about.”

A beat of silence.

Then, quietly—“The bond hasn’t broken.”

She stiffened.

Her hands curled into the fabric of the blanket, her nails biting into her palm.

“I don’t know why,” she admitted after a long moment, voice hoarse. “I should have—felt it. When he—”

She couldn’t say it.

Rhys was silent.

She turned, meeting his violet eyes for the first time in days. There was something there—something off.

Something withholding.

“… What?” she rasped.

Rhysand shook his head. “Nothing.”

In the back of my mind, I'm still overseas A bird in a cage, thought you were made for me

She wasn’t sure why, but her stomach twisted.

But she let it go.

She had no more energy to fight.

The dream came again that night.

Azriel, standing just beyond the shadows, his hazel eyes locked onto hers.

He never spoke.

Never moved.

Just watched.

And she—she always ran toward him. Always reached for him.

But the moment her fingers brushed his, he would disappear.

Vanishing into smoke.

She woke with a start, chest heaving. The bond—it was there. She could feel it, feel him, but it was distant, muted—like something was blocking it.

Her heart slammed against her ribs.

No.

No, she was imagining it.

This was what grief did.

It twisted things, made you believe in impossibilities.

Azriel was dead.

The bond hadn’t broken, and she would never know why.

You were born bluer than a butterfly Beautiful and so deprived of oxygen Colder than your father's eyes He never learned to sympathize with anyone

Rhys was tense when she found him the next morning.

Cassian and Feyre had just left, leaving the two of them alone in the townhouse.

“You’re hiding something.”

It wasn’t a question.

Rhys froze. “Y/N—”

“You’re hiding something.” Her voice wavered, her hands trembling as she stepped toward him. “I—why do I still feel the bond?”

His throat bobbed. “Y/N, I—”

Tell me he’s dead, she wanted to beg.

Tell me I’m wrong.

Tell me I’m losing my mind.

But her brother only stared at her, guilt heavy in his gaze.

Something in her splintered.

Her breath came shallow, sharp.

“… No.”

Rhys’ lips parted, his expression softening. “It’s not what you think—”

“He’s alive?” Her voice broke on the last word.

The walls closed in.

Azriel—her mate, her heart—was alive.

And Rhys had kept it from her.

“I had to,” he said, desperation creeping into his voice. “Y/N, I had to—”

But she was already moving, already running, because she couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think.

Couldn’t understand.

Why?

Why had he lied?

Why had he let her suffer, let her mourn?

Why had he let her break?

Her body was shaking, but she barely registered it.

Azriel was alive.

She had spent weeks drowning in grief, but he was alive.

And Rhys—her brother, the one person she had always trusted—had let her believe otherwise.

I don't blame you But I can't change you Don't hate you But we can't save you

A sob tore from her throat, her knees hitting the floor of the garden.

She pressed a hand to her chest, feeling the pull of the bond—really feeling it for the first time.

It was there. It had always been there.

Distant. Shielded.

Hidden from her.

Her mate.

Her mate was alive.

And she had been drowning in the lie that he wasn’t.

She gasped, head tipping back toward the sky, her entire body trembling with rage, with grief, with hope.

Because she had thought she would never feel him again.

But he was alive.

And she would bring him home.

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆

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[lyricwritesprose]

I really didn't expect this thing to escalate to the point where Ms. Claiborne came to talk to Dad about it.

I also didn't expect Dad to instantly agree with me. "Drake is right. Naomi will be able to tell the class more, and catch their interest better."

"Sir…" A lot of people call Dad sir. He doesn't like it. He doesn't make a fuss about it, but he doesn't like it. "This would be a unique opportunity for Drake's class. I know that many of them look up to you, and many of them have questions—"

"I'm sure they have questions. The thing is—" Dad sighed. "It's not quite true that I never lie. But—rarely. Very rarely. I don't want to be put in a position where I have to lie to a class of eager tenth graders for fifteen minutes, and I certainly can't tell them the truth."

She blinks.

"I've been effectively the world's most famous first responder for—twenty years, I think, next September. I've gone through seven therapists in that time, not counting the ones who simply weren't a good fit." He pauses, an idea occurring to him. "Do you want to take a quick look at my art room? I'd prefer you not mention it to anyone else, but it might make my point."

"Hang on," I blurt out, "are you serious?"

"I am."

Ms. Claiborne wasn't going to turn the offer down, of course. I watched as she looked in. I watched as she saw the paintings and backed out, looking pale.

"My third therapist helped me figure it out. I can either paint the things I've seen, or dream them."

"Oh." It was very quiet.

"I don't want these kids to think that my job is a matter of flying around the world and being congratulated by grateful people. I also refuse to explain that I have seen an illegal human organ harvesting operation, and it wasn't even started by some colorful character with an evil laugh—just an ordinary man with a wife and three children. The best I could do is give a very, very heartfelt lecture on looking after your mental health, and how remembering even the tiniest good moments can get you through the worst of the bad—and they wouldn't be able to make anything of that without context." He locked the art room door quietly. "Meanwhile, Naomi can tell them about underwater archeology off the shores of Santorini. Which is frankly incredible."

Ms. Claiborne caved, of course. I mean, people usually do what Dad wants, he's been talking people around ever since he first went public.

I didn't put my oar in much. I've been kind of worried for a couple of months now. Ever since I started seeing into the ultraviolet. Because I'm not sure how much choice I'm going to have—I definitely am not going to choose not to help people—but at the same time, I really don't want to see the sorts of thinks that Dad paints.

Your dad is a superhero. He doesn't really have a secret identity. Everyone knows who he is, and what he does. Your mom is an Archeologist. Next week is your high school's career day, and you secretly think your mom's job is cooler. You want to invite her, but you don't want to hurt your dad.

[antifainternational]

I have a group of acquaintances from my hometown who are mostly “moderate Republicans”, but only because they don’t really pay attention and are young straight white men from an affluent suburb. I don’t hang out with them, but we’re all in a group chat together (that they keep adding me to every time I try to leave). I figured since I was there, I might as well try to introduce them to some leftist, anti-authoritarian ideas. It’s been working—I’ve even seen a shift with the one proper alt-right guy from constantly posting evil shit unfettered to keeping his mouth shut except to occasionally completely make a fool of himself while trying to debate me—but it’s slow. With everything else that’s happening in the US, I’m wondering if this is a worthwhile use of time.

You've already shifted one of your acquaintances from the red pill/alt-right pipeline a bit, so you've answered your own question, Anon! We suggest you keep up the good work here. In fact, we've got some resources for you: If you dig through our Asks Archive, you'll find lots of examples where we responded to the most common bullshit peddled by the far-right. There might be good ammo in there for you to use to continue swaying these guys. The Western States Center has a number of guides offering solid advice on how to respond when people close to you are going down the wrong path. Generally, avoid name-calling and responding with facts is effective. A good way to frame what you say is to Affirm, Answer, & ReDirect: -Affirm that what the person is saying is real and comes from a place of real concern that you understand. This validates them and makes them more open to listening to you. -Answer (or respond) to what they're saying factually. You want to be clear, concise, and concrete when you answer. Make your answer as clear, direct, and succinct as possible and based it on real-world, concrete evidence. -Now you want to ReDirect the person's concern or anger away from the target they thought was appropriate to where they should be angry. To demonstrate: Person 1: I'm fed up with not being able to afford proper housing! There's just not enough homes in this country with all the immigrants coming here! We need to close our borders to makes sure we can house our own people! Person 2: (Affirming): I definitely hear you. It sickens me that so many people are living on the streets here. Rents our out of control. We shouldn't have to worry about whether or not we're going to have a roof over our heads from one month to the next. (Answering): But what is the real problem here? We're one of the richest countries in the world, yet for every one person living on the streets, there are 28 vacant homes available that the owners are just sitting on. The top 20 corporate landlords control over 1.4 million homes. Turning housing from a basic necessity into something to speculate on and try to get rich with means sky-high rents and homes sitting empty while people sleep in the streets. (Redirecting): Immigrants aren't the reason for the housing crisis - relying on capitalism to provide housing when it's only designed to provide profits is the reason! If you are genuinely upset about housing situation here, you need to focus on the people that created the problem and profit from it - wealthy landlords and landowners and the politicians that pass laws that only make them wealthier, at the expense of the rest of us!

[sunflower1experiment]

The Doctor, will See You

Risk

It was quiet, you were quiet, it made him uncomfortable when you would acknowledge him with a nod and then walk past. Tending to the children, was it the fact that you lost this child or maybe you had finally accepted your fate. Whatever the plan was it was also affecting the toys too, Leith was less strict and more patient but the knowledge that you weren't actively seeking any forms of social bond made him worry. "Can you talk to me?"

Stella begs while holding your hand, you chuckle sadly. "No, stop trying and just work. Please."

Work, silence, feed, care, work, silence.....feed...?

Doey's neck stretches across his cell and ate some of the fruit you placed down, "You're feeding us? Why?" This was Kevin talking, the children were weary. You simply shake your head, "I'm doing this to tell you to live, keep rebelling, you're all smart and I...I'm doing what I can before I accept everything."

The boys stare at you through Doey, "What do you mean? Your voice isn't gentle, so why?"

"Kevin, Matthew, Jack...Doey. I don't think Harley or Prototype are good. So, I want you to take care of the children if things get...tense, you don't have to do it if you don't want to. Every choice you make. Make sure to forgive yourself, okay? You're good kids." Doey flinches when you place one more food into his hand.

It was, colorful, like him a pretty fruit with colors and a variety of different tastes. "Peach..." He ate it curiously, relishing the different essences of sweetness.

Catnap was well difficult to speak with, you knew he held high expectations for Prototype and also didn't see you as anything other than a scientist, an adult. One that betrayed him, the food placed down was smacked away, "It's okay. You have every right to be angry."

He sneers at your words, just because you were "one of the good ones"

"You are no better, you are a scientist, you still stood beside him." Nodding at his words you sigh sadly.

"Maybe that was a signal, loving him and then getting attached to you all. That no matter how hard I try, I was more loyal to playtime than I was myself. I so badly wish to take your pain away. Sadly, the only thing I can do is this."

What did you mean!? Catnap watches you leave, Dogday stares in horror, "Catnap, did Prototype...." No, what did you mean!?

Were you leaving? No, you had a plan, something they wouldn't know about. Mommy places the fruits and vegetables aside when you returned. After everything, the truth, and now you and Harley were no more. What were you planning to do exactly? "Is there a reason you're so, quiet, planning in silence?"

"The plan is to give you all strength, and then, gather evidence." Mommy's eyes widen, she slinks over with a curious grin. "Evidence?"

"You are evidence, but the files are too." So that is why you were quiet and so obediently tame, of course this is merely as scary as any job with a corrupt background but to be on top and stay while hitting rock bottom. Yet here you are, giving food while ignoring Harley's calls.

Huggy leans in when your phone rings for the third time, you hold his cheek so he could remain still. His sharp teeth chew on the pears you feed him, sometimes he'd stand guard while you worked. Listening to the apologies or gentle words he wished to hear, when the experimentations happened. Did you even know of the pain? the anguish? The suffering everyone experienced at the hands of Harley, Eddie and Leith?

He could only smile while staring at you, your apologies meant something but in terms of actioner it would fall flat.

"tHe hOur oF jOy....yOu sHoUlD join..."

"I can't...I have to give the evidence to the public, you understand...I'm not sure what this hour will be but if you all plan to escape then I'll do everything I can to help."

Prototype envies your determined futility; him and Harley were alike that way. Harley loves your bleeding heart while Prototype's plan was meant to break you, turn you to hate humanity and maybe just maybe you could collaborate with him. Not out of love, or concern to commemorate you and him becoming allies, but because he needed eyes, ears, hands, and the ability to touch.

He then notes the ringing phone, that was once again in voicemail. Harley was growing more desperate.

Each one went straight to voicemail, or he'd find you in your office. Expecting coffee from you or a small smile of assurance, where did he go wrong? The day he truly went wrong was probably the last time you and him would share such warm embrace.

What happened? The files were placed down, evidence upon evidence and a video file to upload the truth to the world. Now all there is the door, but it was locked. Your body tenses, and in the back of your mind you prayed it wasn't what you thought it'd be. Whether you loved him or not, it was still...

It starts with a crash, a gunshot, yelling, what did Prototype do, words of who will cover this up fill your ears. How will he cover it up, then you ran in and knelt to Harley's side, holding him by the face.

Whether Harley wanted to or not, that was what made Leith, and you clash, he was usually bemused with your interaction with the toys.

Yet nothing bemused him more than seeing your teary-eyed face standing before him.

TW// Blood, gunshot, (Here we see his perspective of what happened. Meanwhile Leith gets his perception while the hour of joy is its own chapter), cursing, gore minors do not interact if you get weary at the mention of blood

Harley, Harley Sawyer, head scientist of the projects, facing betrayal, curiosity, discovery, love, failure, and isolation. Holding no sorts of humility and discipline as stated by Elliot, he struggles to reach the top of the ranks in playtime co. Striding to become better than those nobodies he called coworkers, the ones with bleeding hearts, soft like Elliot or not even capable to reach his intellect.

Many experiments, failure or not he knew he was the one carrying this company to success, then it was Quinn...

Quinn, he should've listened when he knew someone was opting to take this child in. Experiment 1166, aka Yarnaby. The obedience it displays....or he displays, was enough to make Sawyer "take" him in. That was his first mistake, "That boy Quinn, I really want to adopt him."

In one ear and out the other, this man was foolish. To even form a relationship with someone who held more humility, more humanity than him. How dare he ruin the concept of enamor for his partner to be or to not be.

He loved you, of course he did, that's why he kept you close. Someone needed to keep this family together, Harley, Quinn Yarnaby, you. His mind wanders to the baby, two months in...and to see your locked door the fetus, the man wanted to yell at the scientist for not saving it. It could be of potential: What a sick twisted thought to have about your own child!

Harley breaths as he scraps the paperwork on the prototype, "sOmethiNg thE mATTER? DoCtor?"

"No, you and I both know that....So anything else you wish to express?" It chuckles, then taps the metallic fingers on the table. "You both loved each other so dearly, and you simply had to turn that boy into a toy....Criminals, sick, dying...Right? Potential toys. Or better yet Some sedation."

"Don't you ever use that voice against me! Damn it!" Harley slams his hands on the table, he hated that voice, because it belonged to you. Except you were crying, hugging his frame while he couldn't bear to see you making that pathetic sound. Even when the doctor had the audacity to find some sick amusement at Yarnaby's sounds....you were different.

It absolutely annoys Harley's soul knowing Stella held some form of kinship to you, the flowers expressed so many words. So, he tried as well, first it was a Clematis Jackmanii, you were enthralled by such beauty. Next the Iris, you returned this exchange with a Rosemary, so he got bolder, and he was before your office with a Tuberose. Your wide eyes and slightly startled demeanor rub him the wrong way until you show him a beautiful pink poppy. He holds it, silent....

That flower was now wilted, he was heartbroken or maybe he needed to try again. So, he foolishly offers a poppy flower. Your demeanor is unchanging, and your silence spoke so many words to him, truly the indifference you held to the doctor hurt more than any form of hatred.

All these puzzles and shifts to try and win you over again he simply moves onto work like you but not the way he'd expect. The incident, he simply had Boxy Boo cover his tracks, and he'd leave while everyone else was already home. Until he saw you, your eyes were wide the crashing, gunshots, what happened!?

But he could only focus on you, he tries to speak, then stops when you walk forward. Harley practically drops everything to hold you but then his eyes widen. There was blood on the floor, sounds of shouting and Leith's angry yelling while guards start to seize you.

"Harley! What did you bastards do!? What was that!?" Your voice fades as the guards move you towards the hallways, "Harley!!!"

Harley's breathing shortens, too much blood loss...he felt it track over his lab coat. It reminded him of your warmth, your lips and tender touch.

"Start the procedure."

Then the doctor awoke, calling for you, it made Leith tense with anger, Dr. Bruno White clears his throat. "Procedure complete....how, are you feeling?"

"White!? Where, what happened...I...Something is wrong, what did you do!? Which one of you higher up backstabbing traitors..."

"I gave the order." Leith cuts Sawyer off from his angry tangent, he sighs. "After so many chances and even a failed attempt of us nearly getting exposed. You really know how to handle your screw ups."

"Enough with your idle talk, why would we even get exposed?" Sawyer snarls at him, his patience wearing thin.

"Your partner had evidence, upon evidence! Everything was recorded, everything! You simply couldn't just leave it alone..." Leith sighs, "Luckily we dealt with him as per needed.

"You have no idea what you all are doing, you all need mine and my dear's intellect!"

"That is the exact reason why you're here and not food for Boxy Boo." Leith retorts while he looks at Leith's now isolated form. "Here's how we'll do this, you will give the other scientists answers when they need them, and to perform procedures as directed."

"You'll die for this Pierre! When I get my hands on you. You're a DEAD MAN!"

Harley wouldn't accept this, not when you were trapped somewhere, being treated with the same pain. Leith Pierre maybe, a greedy bastard but...would he hurt you.

He had to know, it was as if the world was against him for the final time. How many months went by is what he'd ask but he knew time was only relative in the eyes of the beholder.

That's when he hears him again, "Open the door!" Leith's angry voice fills his ears, you take some steps back. Holding your chest, he watches through the camera tapping on the screen. Anything to get your attention, Stella's cries fill his head. Why was everyone do damn loud!?

"I failed, for the final time." Your voice begins, he assumed you were crying, and he desperately hopes it was true. Yet when no tears shed, he was angry. At himself, those fools, you!

He notices you grabbing the lever, to release everyone, everything, even him. But that meant you would die too, "No matter how much I try to look, I was no better…if they kill me, I hope I can ease their pain…I’m so sorry children."

You can't be serious!? This had to be prototype's doing! Why didn't he see the signs sooner, damn it, damn everything to hell it was his fault! He held the blame, Leith Pierre held the blame, Stella, all of these scientists. Innocent, guilty....

"I really did love him." Harley stops moping with self-loath when you say those words, "I just wanted him to see that those orphans, the children. They were smarter than people realize..."

You pull the lever; closing the gate that guards the workers in the higher grounds. "Prototype wanted us to die but, not everyone deserves it. I tried to convince him and Sawyer..."

The doctor watches your determined glare towards the others, "I'm doing this for the sake of the children and the innocent. I don't care if this seems like some moral power play, it isn't I'm no better."

Everything played out so slowly, the gates were vain as they transported Huggy to the upper floor. Killing everyone, Mommy long legs follow afterwards in the train station playground, death, blood, bodies. The sick sounds of someone's body being torn apart, it made Harley watch in awe how they practically turn this play to hell..

Because of him and those backstabbing scientists, what exactly did you do? Right, you never did them, you were the one who interrogated the children and toys.

Always being sweet, and caring for them, feeding those damned beasts. That was your downfall and biggest flaw, you had that bleeding heart...

"....Hello old friend." The prototype says in a mocking manner, "I see even after everything, your love for that scientist has not changed. So, will the doctor be seeing them?"

Harley chuckles bitterly at its words of mockery and amusement, those fools lost control god knows how much later after he was turned. Now this "Hour of Joy" happens, all of his work in shambles..

But you, his perfect experiment. You weren't in shambles, not yet that is, maybe if he made you into something like him the toys would be more accepting. Unlike that Thomas Clarke fellow, he could make you his perfect experiment, the perfect partner. Without that awful bleeding heart, he came to adore so much, you'd be safe from manipulation. From Prototype, he sighs once more as he finally clears his head, "Make sure my dear partner doesn't die.."

Your fate was sealed that day.

[yey56]

HARLEY SAWYER X PSYCHOLOGIST READER Pt4

From:

You eyes opened and before you could even muster a work, the monitor said with the velvet voice you recognised so well.- Welcome back, my germ. I'm so glad you're finally awake. We have matters to discuss- Sawyer finished touching your face with his screen.

Your eyes closed halfway due to the light of the screen. A big eye observed you and a soft voice with a mechanic filter talked to you.

You still hadn't processed all of this information, being just woken up and basically blinded by a bright light was not exactly enlightening.

Harley?- You asked, still waking up- Harley is that you?- You looked confused and shocked. You didn't expect... This.- Is this what Leith did to you?.

Your hands started exploring his robotic body: inspecting the wires, twisting your fingers in them; the metallic articulations, bending the ones in his fingers as testing for movement; and his TV head, taking a closer look to the pixels that conformed it

He looked at you in silence while you analysed his whole self -... Yes. But that's not relevant now. I've been trying to reach you. And you've been squirming by sheer luck from my grip.- He still held you face with his cold metal hands. You found it comforting. A cold, dry feeling. It fitted him well.

So... You know what I did?- You already knew the extent of his control on the factory but you wanted to hear it from him- Yes, I do. I must say, excellent job. Liberating 1006... It was excellent- He laughed quietly.-

His hand on your cheek moved to your collarbone and while you were incorporating he put your arms against the wires that resembled his neck and shoulders in a way that you were now supporting yourself solely on him.

You cannot believe the progress the experiments have made...- He was talking very quietly, almost whispering- They had made hell real.- He seemed somewhat fascinated by his own words and you were listening to him very closely, wanting to know more information of the experiments

Some of them are nothing more than violents and hungry beasts.- The fascination was replaced by contempt- But others, the ones who you concluded that showed intelligence... They are taking control of little areas of the factory..

I've always knew that their resentment would make something great- You said, somewhat glad that some toys were showing dominance over others. You could already image who...- Horrible, but great after all.- The way you were saying it was almost mischievous with a hint of satisfaction.

And what about you?- You asked, your tone becoming softer this time- I've been searching for you. What have you been up to Dr?.

There is not much to do here but establishing our chances of survival and my dominance over this factory- You were confused by his words, tightening your grip on his shoulders-

What do you mean by insuring OUR survival?- The question came of a little bit more aggressively than intented.

The prototype... He was the one commanding the toys to end with anyone in their way. When you opened the cages most of them tried toe scale the factory but he blocked the way. He's searching for that clay doll.- You interrupted- The prototype is searching for Poppy? Why?- He continued- She wants to finish him. To destroy him. She disappeared after the hour of joy. That sneaky liar has managed to hide herself very well...

So... What does that have to do with you? With us?- You asked with precaution-

I've made a deal with the prototype... I will improve the toys we have to go against Poppy. He won't kill me since I'm useful. Whether he likes to admit it or not, he needs me for this. I'm his best shot. I'm not worried about the prototype right now.- Harley seemed confident in his statement, and probably he was right.

You remembered the Prototype... Before Doey, he and mommy long legs were your favourites out of all the experiments. They both showed high levels of intelligence and you often turned you interviews with them into something more like a conversation.

Mommy was always willing to talk. Often with a sweet voice but sometimes a more terrifying one would overcome the conversation trying to intimidate you.

But the Prototype was not always willing to talk. Mostly at the start he just stared at you, twitching his metallic hand.

He was the first successful experiment of the company and though he was far from perfect he was one of the most intelligent living beings you ever had the pleasure to converse with.

He was your first job with a non-human patient, it wasn't something you could forget. His hate for the company was never hidden, he had a deep hunger for violence and as new experiments started to come in he would often encourage them to violent acts, this led to him being isolated.

1006 became more erratic, violent and unwilling to collaborate. Other psychologist started to quit and refusing to work with him because of this same reason. They feigned pity for him, compassion and empathy, they tried to hide the instinctive fear they had for him so the prototype acted in response driving them away.

You on the contrary never gave up on him. You didn't offer kind words or condolences for his situation. You acknowledged him as the challenge he was for the stability for the company and talked to him out of pure interest. You own curiosity hungry for understanding what was going inside his mind. He was unique.

It was like the first toy you ever give to a kid. You can break it, hide it or give mor etoys to the child but the first one will always remain in their minds.

With time, the prototype started adopting some of your behaviours. He started imitating you tone of voice when asking, trying to seem more familiar to you by coping your corporal expression .

You knew what he was doing, you did something similar in your first years of career and even used that method with some people.

So tell me, Prototype- You adjusted the comments of the experiment in the table nearby- why did you intimidate the last professional- and please do not insult my intelligence by trying to lie to me- You sigh sounded more like a laugh- either tell me the truth or don't talk, let's not lose time.

What time- Do I HaVe To- LOSE??..- His voice changed from yours to a distorted one and then to mommy's.- YoUr FRIEND the D0c-t0r does Not- L3t M3 leave.

You know full well by, you are hyper aware of everything around you so don't feign innocence on why you are here- You knew Harley was watching through the one way glass on the wall and you knew the prototype knew as well.

Once you and Harley started becoming closer he started insisting on supervising you whenever you had interviews with the most dangerous experiments.

He understood you fascination with them. Their broken minds and the challenge they supposed were a fitting challenge for you, he felt the same with the experiments the company made him run.

Though he has never managed to comprehend your need to maintain direct contact with them. He always insisted on you staying on the observation room and talking with them through it but you always denied it, claiming it killed the fun.

Harley always saw them as nothing more than beasts, he didn't want to see you teared apart by them but he couldn't do anything to stop you.

You lived for the risk and for reconstructing the puzzle that composed the minds of the Playtime experiments.

Even though you were fascinated by the experiments you couldn't help but enjoying your superior positions in comparison to them.

You couldn't see yourself subjecting to your own protects, as selfish as that may sound.

Y/N?- Sawyer's metallic voice woke you up from your memories- Your heart rate has decrease, you have spaced out.

So basically, 1006 is the one in control here- You mumbled, still looking directly to only one place.

Harley, I'm not willing to subject myself to one of our projects.- Your tone was dead serious- I understand that the factory right now is the closest thing on earth to hell but I'm not willing to play apart on my projects game

No.- Voice dry, he responded- You don't seem to grasp what the factory is now.- He looked at you.

You weren't there to see it like he did. What the prototype did on the hour of joy, how he seemed to have it already planed. The speed he had to take control of everything

Again, he wasn't scared of his own survival and control within the factory. He was the only thing 1006 had, therefore, he wouldn't be discarded and if you could just listen to him, you wouldn't either.

The prototype is searching for Poppy. Right now I don't know why, not yet.- He said with that calculated tone of voice he always carried- I cannot get to wherever she is, wherever Ludwig hide her, he make sure to make her unfindable.

But you can- Both of his hands on your shoulders now.- Understand your position in this factory, you are the only human here, pure flesh and bones. You are vulnerable. Don't be prideful, it will get you killed.- He said severely and with harshness in his voice.

You took his hands away from you and started to stand up- No Harley, I have no interest in finding Poppy and neither in letting the Prototype dictate if I die or not. -You quickly changed topic trying to avoid talking about 1006-You have control over the systems of the factory don't you, maybe you might be able to get me high enough to search for a wrap pack... And you have an Omni hand as far as I'm aware. You should have executive privileges- You started standing up, with Harley making some resistance.

You started walking as if you were in your house and went to the room with all of the monitors, Harley closely following you.

You started touching some buttons and all of the factory became on sight for you through the cameras. You stayed observant of everything. Analysing every room, watching the changes made by the months of chaos.

At some point, Harley restricted you with another one of his bodies while the main one looked at you.

-You've always been stubborn but the circumstances are not on your favour and since you refuse to listen then I cannot let you go.- His metallic hand grabbing your chin so you would look at him.- Don't fight it. It will make it worse.

Harley knew that, when very deep in though, you would just not listen or not pay attention to your surroundings, so he made sure your attention was on him.

Harley, what are you doing?- Your voice was steady and neutral- I sense anger in your voice. Believe me, this was my last resort.- His hand left your face, he though he heard something from you but the moment he gave his back to you, he heard the sound of metal hitting the floor.

One of The Doctors robotic bodies, the one holding you to be precise, had dropped to the floor after you unplugged a certain wire that connected to his body. You supposed that was the one that permitted the hive mind effect.

He quickly looked at you again. You were running toward the exit door. He could easily outrun you, but now you knew how to unplug him from his body.

However he ignored that fact and went for you either way. His screen glitching and all of the nearby monitors turning on while you were passing running against them.

Now he could understood what you were whispering a few seconds ago "Mine as well". The same way his first option wasn't to restrict you; your first option wasn't to escape.

You knew you were in a huge disadvantage but just thinking about living with the constant paranoia of your live depending on the Prototype made you feel nauseous.

You knew his potential, that's what a very deep part of you feared him just as much as admired him. But after all, you should look out for yourself even if that means going against Harley.

You still don't know how you managed to get out of the land of none and get back to the main corridors that led to the construction area.

That was a safe place, at least save from Sawyer.

Your first option was not available but your second best was still there. The safe haven seemed like a resemblance of normalcy in this hellhole.

Doey looked relieved upon your return, and he locked even more glad when you said you where staying. You didn't specify the reasons why but at leat you had a generator completely independent from the main system and therefore, from Harley.

You were... a little hurt from your re-encounter with Harley... Just a little...

You didn't expected him to give control so easily, again, he could still have way more control than others could but being at mercy of others wasn't really your style and you weren't willing to go through that.

You spent so much time searching for him. And for what? For a half ass conversation without any closure. You didn't need any feelings that could make you dependent on Harley. You shouldn't let yourself get carried away only because you have feelings for someone...

Therefore, you just toned it down. You will do as you always do with every feeling that gets more complicated than curiosity, you will ignore it and then bury it.

You were able to ignore your fascination for the prototype because, rationally ,he was dangerous; you could ignore your affection for Doey or mommy because you still were curious to see where the limits where. So you should be able to bury your feelings for Harley because it puts in danger your life and your autonomy.

Harley was not much happy either. He wanted you back, he just needed you to see reason. Eventually you will encounter a big danger such as Catnap or someone big and you will understand that you can't do this alone.

You will realise sooner or later, but in the meantime he would keep a close eye on you and, if the opportunity ever arises, he will just accelerate the process and take you himself to his area.

He could still feel your touch on his wires. His body long gone was substituted by this machine. Though he couldn't eat, he could feel. A very weak stimulation but it was the nearest thing he had that resembled the reaction to touch.

It was a matter of time, its not like you will last long. No wrap pack, no weapons thousands of resentful creatures inpatient to eat you...

You will come back. You must.

When the prototype asked him where you were, he answered that there has been a problem but this they only needed time.

1006 was not happy. Even thought there was an argument Harley, always the calm doctor knew his experiments so he was able to deal with the prototype effortlessly.

His germ could not hide forever, it was not in your nature. Germs evolve, the expand and sooner or later, a doctor finds it and neutralises it.

He just needs to wait until you expand to catch you. You wont be still for long. You never are.

The doctor can only hope that you won't be late to your appointment

-unedited fic-

[ladyloveandjustice]

I mean, Legend of Lattes did have a conflict, her coffee place straight up burned down? It wasn't a major focus for most of the book but it happened.

I've only read a few cozy fantasy things, and didn't find a few of them super memorable myself, but the definition of cozy fantasy is pretty broad from what I've seen. Emily Wilde is categorized as that and it is FULL of conflict and action and has some great and memorable characters.

But people have always liked stuff that's low tension/stakes/fluffy. See coffee shop aus in fanfic, or fanfic tagged fluff. See slice of life anime where characters are just hanging out. It's not a new thing. People have always wanted to watch or read things that just give cozy vibes and allow them to hang out with characters. The book industry realizing there was a market for that was inevitable. If it's not for you, it's not for you, but it's obviously for someone or it wouldn't be doing well.

I also think this is a good example of how condescending we can get when talking about a genre we don't like. Rather than say "it's not for me, I don't find the characters memorable and want better stakes, maybe there should be more variety" (which was more where OP was at) it has to be somehow bad for people to read it and write it. like...

And so sometimes it feels impossibly challenging to write any book except one where nothing bad happens and nothing is in danger and nobody is really bothered or worried about anything and everything is mostly fine and there aren't any major setbacks…..

That is a hell of a condescending assumption to make about those writers. Jesus. I'm a professional author too, but I would not want to make these assumptions about my fellow writers.You don't know if they're doing it because it's easy, or if they're doing it because they felt there was a need for it, or it was just an idea they liked writing. You don't like it, great. That doesn't mean those writers are slacking off or doing something wrong somehow. You don't know that they don't also write books with tension and conflict. I feel like most of them probably have, actually. Assuming they sat down and thought "omg this will be easy I'm so lazy" is just...do you make the same assumption about romance writers? It can get pretty formulaic, but that doesn't mean it's easy to write. Have you tried to write a cozy fantasy and sell it and make it do well? If not, I don't think you should talk about how easy it is.

But that leaves readers cold.

I mean not all readers obviously, since it wouldn't be doing well or selling well?

And frankly, I don't feel like it does much of anything to nourish either our souls or theirs.

It feels like eating a bag of potato chips for dinner instead of going to the effort of even just heating up a frozen dinner that has a vegetable in it.

Why does reading HAVE to "nourish your soul", whatever that means? What's wrong with eating a bag of potato chips? You teach college, so I wonder if you've ever run into a colleague who thinks this way about regular fantasy and sci-fi. Where they think that genre fiction is inherently more disposable and less challenging than literary fiction. I've sure as hell run into those professors, that look down on readers and writers of "commercial fiction", and I've seen the bad impact they have on their students. Do you agree with them? Because you're sounding a lot like them right now. This is the exactly the kind of argument they'd make.

You don't know whether these people don't also read books with more stakes or a variety of genres as well. Low effort reading has it's place, it just maybe shouldn't be the only thing you read if you want to actually experience the breadth of literature.

And I see this a lot in the book community, but dissing the stuff people are into and saying they need to challenge themselves more or they won't be smart like you (I see this with YA a lot too) is not going to convince them. It frames reading as a chore, and people often don't like doing chores in a life full of them, and reading is a hobby for a lot of people. Rather that say "you need to read this to better your mind" say what can be interesting or intriguing about these books that are more challenging, what kind of cool things you can get from them. Sometimes it seems to me like the point of these arguments is to feel superior, rather than actually convince people.

Nothing's wrong with reading low effort books or watch low effort shows--it's when say, a YA reader says books are inherently flawed if they don't spell things out like YA sometimes does or has more challenging themes. Or a cozy fantasy reader acting like all books should be cozy fantasy and books with tension are bad. Those are the people that ruin the discourse. But, doing the inverse isn't any better.

idk, man. I've taught university classes about this shit, but what do I know.

I teach grad school classes on writing, (I don't like to pull that card, since it's not like teachers can't have flawed ideas about their subject but since we're here) and have taught similar lessons. Yet, here's what I think I do know: telling students the genre they write is wrong is not something a teacher should do. Those literary fiction professors love doing that, and I'm not them.

As a teacher with a variety of students in a variety of genres, I have to read genres I don't like all the time--god I hate most 'dark romance' and man do I not get or like omegaverse, but I sure as hell had to read both. But just because I don't like them doesn't mean they're worthless, or there isn't a market for them, or it's wrong to write them. So I put those feelings aside, think about what kind of help the student needs to be successful in their chosen genre, and what the audience would want, because that will help them improve. (though I do try to hint if something seems like, incredibly sexist, that maybe we should reconsider that, or look at it from all angles and decide if it's something the story needs). And at the same time, I do teach them basic lessons on how to structure a story, and what's good about conflict, stakes, etc.

But I wouldn't tell any of them they're wrong for writing cozy fantasy even if it's not always my cup of tea, because there is a market for it, and I want them to do well at it and do what they love. What pays the bills pays them, and if you actually like what you do, that's also important. Writers do need to challenge themselves, which is why I encourage students to be open minded about all genres, try out writing them, try writing different POVs, different stuff even if they don't publish it, because that can only help them get better at what they do. But if what they publish is cozy fantasy, hey, it gets them good money and they like doing it, that's more than I can say for most jobs.

Cozy Fantasy and Why It Doesn't Work

I think I am among many who feel like they should love cozy fantasy and have found it an incredibly lacking genre.

This newly branded "cozy fantasy" genre that has taken readers by storm since 2020 and while it is new that books are now marketed as cozy, the genre itself isn't new. Howl's Moving Castle by Diana Wynne Jones is a great example of the genre before it was labeled and also how to make it work.

Cozy fantasy is defined by many as fantasy with low stakes. Fantasy aesthetic but less sword fights. On paper, it sounds great. But the execution has been less than stellar for readers like me. The lack of physical stakes has also impacted the emotional stakes of these books, creating forgettable characters with boring problems. As a romance reader, I find this frustrating. Romance is known for being a predictable and formulaic genre, the now defunct Romance Writers of America defined romances as needing happy endings, a term romances have continued to follow. Yet these romance texts manage to have low physical stakes (how to date your neighbor, how to confront your toxic friends, etc) while still maintaining high personal stakes that keep readers invested and begging for more. So I was initially confused why cozy fantasy authors struggle to write texts that connect to readers like me.

I think I have found the answer which is the genre is just here for vibes. It is all about aesthetic, not even worldbuilding that fantasy is known for as most cozy fantasy I read have so many problems as soon as you ask one question. It is hard to acknowledge that a genre that is pitched to work for readers like me doesn't work for many of us. Especially because occasionally there is one that works beautifully to my taste.

I often say my favorite cozy fantasies that are more contemporary are short and visual, which I plays into the idea of the genre being an aesthetic. The Bakery Dragon by Devin Elle Kurtz is a good example because it is a simple story that is given the perfect amount of pages and gorgeous visuals without dragging on when the message is very clear and easy to understand. Books like The Phoenix Keeper and Legends and Lattes have absolutely nothing for me, their very clear message hitting the reader over and over so the readers don't miss it and focusing on the aesthetic of worldbuilding rather than the reality of the fantastic elements within the world.

I guess my point is. . . I realize this genre isn't for me since I have realized it is more of an aesthetic than anything. .. .but I want it to be. Should I let it go and put my efforts elsewhere? Or should I keep exploring this new trend and find the hidden gems?

[this-is-exorsexism]

i'm seeing a rise right now of binary trans people saying how nonbinary oppression is very different from trans oppression. spoiler: they don't mean the fact that we experience exorsexism and they don't.

every time in the last few days i've seen this the phrasing has already been deeply exorsexist. "nonbinary vs trans", as if most nonbinary people aren't trans themselves. it's also always "nonbinary = not medically transitioning" and "not medically transitioning = less oppressed", which is not how any of this works. they also seem to think that all medical transition is visible from the outside. it's not. i want a hysterectomy one day. it's medical transition. you can't see it from the outside. firstly, why are you assuming nonbinary people who medically transition don't exist? are you just acting like they're trans men and women? is your distinction between "trans" and "nonbinary" that trans people medically transition while nonbinary people don't? fuck your truscum ass. the amount of scrutiny, discomfort, harassment, violence you face also isn't fully related to whether you medically transition or not. i've been asked invasive questions about my genitals ever since i hit puberty. even fellow transgender people have weird ways of trying to figure out what my "real gender" is, i.e. what my genitals are but you all aren't ready for that conversation. i've been harassed in public bathrooms. i've faced dismissal of my actual problem from doctors due to my gender. people call me he and she in mostly equal amounts. none of this lines up with their narrative of the non-medically transitioning nonbinary person who is always perceived as one binary gender (and that gender is usually female because everyone thinks we're women lite). what i don't (currently) have to deal with is getting a gender dysphoria diagnosis, fight for gender-affirming medical care, worry about my prescription being taken away. this isn't exclusive to nonbinary people though. there are binary trans people who don't medically transition, too, but i guess according to this idea soaked in transmedicalism, these people don't exist, or you're just misgendering them as nonbinary.

a lot of binary transgender people treat us the way cisgender people treat them. many seem to feel threatened that us weirdos who won't choose a side have quite a lot in common with them, actually.

when nonbinary people talk about exorsexist oppression, we're either straight up told to shut up or not listened to at all. we're told we're being divisive by talking about our own experiences (and we have to, because again, research doesn't really include us), when the people doing the dividing are binary trans people going "we have nothing in common with those people", treating us like we cannot be trans etc. it's a tale as old as time: the more privileged people within a group separating themselves from the less "respectable"/more marginalised people within the group and then accusing them of being divisive.

i'm sick and tired of binary transgender people theorising about what it's like being nonbinary. we're not hypotheticals. we're not thought experiments. we're real human beings you can listen to.

yes, our experiences are a bit different. but not because nonbinary people are less oppressed. because nonbinary people experience an extra layer of oppression that binary trans people don't: exorsexism.

[bbybhr]

"A fighter" sevika x fem reader angst

Summary: If there was a soul mate for everyone, sevika would think "and was sure" there's none for her. people,they are connected by their scars their pain and how they could heal one another. People see the broken pieces and offer what they have in exchange for what they want and sevika had nothing to give and plenty to get. she was so broken that the scars on the surface, were the surface. and one should reach out too deep to find a sign of her and only than to try healing her. and sevika wouldn't be that cruel to anybody. that was until you came along and sevika found herself for the very first time...wishing for something selfish...something entirely hers

Sevika is a fighter. not that she likes it or she gets off on it but she is one simply because there's the need for it. she needs to be one, silco needs her to be one, the nation of zaun and all of the people of undercity, needs her to be one...so she became one...and to hold that title she is required to be tough, to man up and forget her weakness...to avoid weaknesses and lately you're becoming one.

she needs to keep her distance from you and she was telling herself that from the day she met you. But somewhere along this mission she failed. somewhere between the beautiful smile you gave her everytime you saw her and the sweet little voice of yours telling her "good morning sev" every morning. Somewhere in the way your beautiful eyes shine everytime she talks to you and somewhere when she felt that tingling feeling inside of her heart after seeing you.

And frankly she thought she could do it. She thought whenever she absolutely had to, she can just cut you off for the greater good. That's what being in the top of the chain of power requires, so she would do it. I mean how hard could it be, she could just forget about all of that there was and get on with her life, with the plan big enough to save thousands of lives... at least she tells herself that before thinking of you and drifting off to sleep.

Why she doesn't do it now?she just simply wants another taste...everytime she tells herself that. she only need one more good morning, one more worried look whenever she shows up beaten, one more time of having you clinging by her side when she's fixing her arm, one more time seeing you looking at her with awe when she wins in card games.

And every time she repeated that sentence that "just one more time and I'm done" it's a fucking lie. she's becoming addicted to you and everyone can see it except herself.

Everyone knows they're not to mess with you and it's showing on their attitude towards you. creep wouldn't dare to look at you in a bad way and the meanest people who won't give a damn about anything bite their tongue before anything bad about you leave their lips because they know better to mess with sevika and getting their shit rearranged.

And that was what encouraged you to take the first step and ask her to have a dinner with you at your place. Because although sevika seemed interested enough for someone like her more than enough you knew she wouldn't take the first step or at least she wouldn't use her words for it, so you would get stuck in between a lot of nothings. So you asked her...

And when you did so your heart was in your throat, you could feel the coldness and numbness creeping up your fingers and toes as you played with the hem of your clothing. daring to only take one breath per second.

Sevika on the other hand was stunned. what did she do to make it to this second, standing infront of you, noticing how you were more dolled up compere to the other times and how you were trying to distract yourself from her gaze and avoiding it with all your might and even though it was just a few seconds, she felt like she's missing it...she's missing how your pupils dilated at the sight of her and how your eyes would tremble everytime it was forced to hold her gaze more than mere seconds.

"Sure why not"

She was fucked...not because she said yes...because she didn't even thought of saying no and it would only become harder and harder with every and each passing day. knowing you was both a blessing and a curse because the more she got to know about you she fell more onto the depth of loving you more.

Everytime she got to wrap her hands around you when you were sleep, easily pulling you in her embrace. breathing at the nape of your neck welcoming the most beautiful dreams that she never had she would fell lower.

When she would wake up seeing your messy hair tickling on her neck and chest while sun shining on them made them a little bit lighter she would fell lower and lower.

When she kissed that very kissable lips of yours taking in your lipstick from them and painting them with a flushed redder look that she adored so much she would fell lower and lower and lower.

And when she would make your face blushed make your body get cover in a thin sheet of sweat, quivering underneath her with sweet sweet moan skipping you lips, calling her oh so beautifully she would fell lower and lower and lower to the bottom of that pit.

And than she hit the ground.

When silco warned her about how she was growing too clumsy too much eager to get back home before getting the job done. how she's losing the sense of survival, how she's failing as a fighter a warrior.

And it hit her, the bottom of that pit the end of the days she was living for herself...

She came home that night,trashed, wasted. stumbling on her feet, eyes seeing two for one and stomach burning with dread and alcohol, struggling so long to put the keys in the keyhole that you heard and opened it at last...when she thought of that she was glad that it was you that came to the door that night opening the door her for the last time...she had plenty of time to open that door by herself to an once again empty house.

"Sevika... are you okay? what happened?"

You called her and her ears despite her drunken mind picked up on the sound, devouring everything you gave, every call you create. placing them in the back of her mind, safe from the chaos.

"Get out"

She rasped out as she stepped in, voice hoarse from all the unnecessary yelling and cussing and drinking. she quickly get done with that, ripping of the bandage like she always does. she didn't spare you a look as she made her way to the kitchen grabbing another bottle.

"What do you mean?"

You were shocked to say the least not knowing it's just drunk talking or she's fucking serious right now you. frown in shock a rare sight.

"Do I have to repeat it now"

She said with a calmness in her tone that was far away from the mess unfolding within her. she slammed the bottle down on the counter, turning to look at you with her gray eyes, drowned in emotions so much you couldn't even see anything in them.

"Get out of my life"

She continued, taking an step forward.

"Get all of your bubbly shit all the hope you're trying to put on me all your sickening love and get the fuck out"

You looked up, wide eye feeling like someone dumped hot boiling fucking water all over you your lips moved without any sound coming from it.

"What...what do you mean...where is it coming from...did I do something?I swear to god I didn't"

You sound...desperate voice shaking and body trembling. you could feel the coldness creeping up to your fingers you could feel your heartbeat in your throat but you weren't playing with the hem of your clothes anymore, only thing playing was time with the both of you.

"Stop it"

She cut your voice

"I'm tired of it...I'm tired of you taking my life trying to fix things that I built under pressures that you have no fucking clue about...get out I'm done playing this game"

You didn't know how you left how you put everything you could in a bag sobbing as you close the door fat tears coming down your cheeks sevika didn't know how she could bare the sound of your cries that night and you didn't know how you're going to live from now on...and so did sevika.

[contentloadingandstuff]

What is a Husband's Role? - Liyue Girls x Male!Reader

A/N: Exams might be over for me, but now, of course, I got a notice that I have to submit myself to a military assessment, compulsory for all men in their 19th year of life. Wonderful. Anyway, enjoy! CW: None.

Question: Who is a husband to you? What is his role?

Beidou: Well, it's quite simple. Y/N is a tough guy, one that's not afraid of taking the world on his shoulders if need be. He handles things in my absence, keeping the Crux’s land-based businesses afloat. While I don't take him out to sea that much, I'd rather have him well and good just in case, he's more than adequate at running the fleet. Me? Heh, he always has my back. Whenever I drink, he stays sober and makes sure I'm taken care of and back home safely and he keeps my bunk warm at night. He's one hell of a man in the sheets too- Why are you blushing, eh? Not the kind of answer you expected? A gal has her needs, I'll have you know. 

Ganyu: My husband is the light of my life. Y/N treats me like a precious flower, tending to my needs and admiring me like the most beautiful thing in this world. When he holds me, he does so with utmost care and attention. His affection makes me feel safe and loved. Thanks to him, I learned to balance work and life again. But even when I'm on the clock, he visits me everyday for my midday nap. All of his support has been crucial for my self-esteem and my efficiency at work. Without him, I don't know where I would be today. Hm? T-too scientific…? I'm s-sorry, I've just been thinking about it a lot…

Hu Tao: Ah, yes! My partner in crime, my muse, and the man ensuring the continuation of the Hu bloodline! Aiya, whatever would my world be without him? It would be as bleak as the space between life and death, with me - a sad, wailing soul, eager to find the comforting warmth of another… I'm lucky enough to have it already. His role in this marriage is not just being my lover, but being my best friend too! He's always open to my shenanigans and eagerly listens to all of my poetic scribbles, praising me and giving constructive criticism in equal measure. Y/N is not deterred by my work, and never ever turns a cold shoulder towards me. He's there when I want to mess around, when I need help or when I just want to lay in his arms and twirl his hair. Mm, I can already picture our lovely heirs! I hope they'll have his eyes~. 

Keqing: I would like to confess something, if that is alright with you. Before I became a wife and a mother, I didn't truly understand what I was fighting for. I have been taught to work towards the preservation of an abstract idea of Liyue, a homogeneous mass of people and the land along with it. I fought for it, yes, but now I know that I didn't truly comprehend what Liyue is. When I first woke up alongside my husband and when I first held my daughter in my arms, I finally understood. I understood that I'm fighting for the people, not as some vague collective, but as individuals. I'm working and fighting for husbands such as Y/N, wives such as myself, and children like my own. I would give my life for my loved ones a hundred times over, and I can work twice as hard, knowing that I do so for the future of my family and every other family in Liyue. My husband opened my eyes, and for that, I am eternally grateful.

 

Lan Yan: Hey - that's no way to think about your beloved! Love is not inherently about being useful to each other, it's more about feelings and companionship. For example, I can't say that taking Y/N with me when picking rattan is making the process easier or faster; I could easily do it myself. But I invite him just to have him near. Hearing his voice comforts me, and to be honest, I've been by his side so long that I just feel… off without him. What if it stormed, or what if night caught me by surprise? He would be worried sick, I'm sure… Or what if I met a ghoul or a jiangshi while out? I m-mean, I have a Vision and everything, but is it wrong to feel safer around my big, strong husband?

Ningguang: I find it fairly obvious - he is to support me, to comfort me and to keep me company. If you would like a more personal take on the matter, I'd say that Y/N, for me, is a precious antique - surely the most valuable of all. His role is to be a feast for my eyes and my heart, nothing less, nothing more. I wouldn't want to drag him into my business, as that would be foolishly risking his life. His role is to satisfy my emotional and physical desires - after all, true fulfillment in these areas cannot be bought by Mora. 

Shenhe: Well, I learned that a husband's role is… Hm? You want me to answer in my own words? Oh, I see. Then… I used to think that a husband is meant to give his wife children. It is what I thought for most of my life, until I met Y/N. Y/N’s presence, his words and touch, cause a comforting warmth to spread through my chest. I learned that this is what love truly means. It's a sense of safety, but it is exciting all the same. I want him closer, but my usual dark visions do not appear in my mind. I do not feel the pressure of my soul straining against the red ropes. He calms me, he makes me feel safe. Now I understand the importance of having a soul to share one's life with. I understand now what the word ‘husband’ means. And I am… happy with Y/N by my side. 

Xinyan: I love Y/N because he honestly loves me for who I am. No matter if I rock and roll or feel in the mood for something softer, he'll jam out to it with me. And he's one hell of a guy, let me tell you! He's not afraid to go all in with me, no matter what. I thought about going on tour? He's there with me. I wanna save some Mora to upgrade my guitar? You guessed it, he pitches in as much as he can! I feel like stealing him and partying the night away? He never says no. That's the best man a gal can ask for!

Xianyun: Hmph. Are you implying One's choice of husband is poor? One will have you know that Y/N is of the finest sort - a body that would make the gods of old jealous and a mind that rivals One's own. It is the latter that’s of utmost importance - One doesn't see a husband as a mere nod-along, but as a man that is capable of challenging his wife's character and inciting her to grow. As such, don't be concerned by Y/N arguing my points at any point in time. It is what One desires, and loves about him the most. 

Xiangling: Ooh, where do I start! My hubby is the best sous chef in the world - he makes sure that the kitchen is stocked up, clean and well organised, letting me focus on my favourite part - cooking! Whenever I need to get ingredients, he takes my place in the restaurant. Sometimes we go out together to get some new ingredients and experiment a little. He's good at cutting up meat, hunting down that meat and defending me if any of my ingredients decides it wants to snack on me. And, when we camp for the night, his cuddles are just the best! Both my dad and Guoba approve of Y/N, so I suppose my taste in boys isn't that bad after all. 

Yelan: A woman my age, and in my line of work, can't be blamed for giving up and thinking she'll be alone until the end, right? That was the Yelan my husband met a few years back. And yet here I am today, a married woman. I knew I was missing out, but I just couldn't imagine how delightful it feels to have someone propping up my back - not for a mission, or a profession, but for life. My husband is my safety net. His arms are my hideout where I can rest from the stress of my daily work. I never want to lose him, which is why I have him stay low and always keep the eyes of my most trusted agent on him. Nobody is going to sneak up on my man - not while my heart still beats. 

Yun Jin: His use? Ah, I think I can answer that with a single word - adventure. I always dreamt of journeying across the outside world, and love is such a journey. Y/N is my companion on it, holding my hand whenever I feel scared or unsure, standing steadfast by my side. He lets me experience so many feelings and emotions I could only imagine before he took my heart… Hehe, stories of love I sing in opera don’t come close to experiencing a husband’s warmth yourself.  

Yanfei: Well, who else would listen to me ramble on about my passion other than my lovely Y/N? I swear, no matter how many versions or iterations of Liyue’s legal history I read out to him, he never gets sleepy! He even asks questions and actually remembers what each chapter was about, can you believe that?! Hehe, seriously now; he’s a great partner, both in life and in a discussion. Y/N makes some room in his schedule for visiting me at work every day of the week, and always brings some mean snacks with him. Oh - you have to try his crab cakes, they’ll blow your socks off! And who ever said that guys can’t cook, right? 

Thanks for reading!

[itslenagain]

"You, there!" the regal voice calls down the hallway.

Shit. I'm toast.

Mother taught me three very important things about visiting Olympus - one, never reveal that I am a child of Zeus. Two, never steal anything from the Temple. And three, most important of all, NEVER allow my existence to be discovered by Hera.

And who but Hera, my unaware-but-still-somehow-wicked stepmother, would happen to be entering the hallway at the same time I attempted to duck into the kitchen for a late night snack.

"Why are you up at this hour?"

My mind races, searching for a way to escape. I'm surrounded by dead ends. I wonder briefly how severe my injuries would be if I attempted to jump out a window. My heart races as incoming footsteps signal my inevitable demise.

Except, when I turn my face to hers, I can tell that Hera has been crying.

She studies me for a moment. "Who are you?"

Shit. SHIT.

"I'm, ah, Eulalia," I lie. "New in town."

She continues to stare me down in suspicion. I'm so fucked. I have to think fast...

"Hera? Why are you up so late?"

She's briefly surprised by the question, but regains her composure quickly. "I was feeling snackish. It looks as though you were also headed to the kitchen." After a pause, she adds, "You may accompany me, if you wish."

I watch her face, and I am perplexed. I should run. I should get myself far away from Hera, as fast as I can. But instead, I find myself nodding gently. Something so achingly familiar to me hides behind her icy gaze.

She glides past me into the kitchen, gauzy green robe trailing softly behind her. I nervously grab a pear from the counter and sit at the small table.

"...is that it?" Hera says, raising an eyebrow. I blush. She sizes me up for a moment, and seems to come to some unspoken conclusion. "If you tell anyone about what I am about to show you, I will personally kill you." I swallow down the rising bile in my throat and let out a far-too-anxious laugh. She opens the refrigerator and reaches for something in the back. "Now, this is a snack worth getting out of bed for." She pulls out a container full of spinach and carrots and places it carefully on the table. She brushes her hands over the lid, and her eyes glow. When she takes off the lid...

"Melopita!" I exclaim. She looks at me sternly. My hands fly up to my mouth.

"Don't make me regret sharing." She cuts a generous slice and places it in front of me. I tear into the slice with a ferocity that rivals a lion hungrily taking down its prey. I hear her laugh. Her eyes are still puffy, but she looks... softer. Lighter, even.

She positions her knife to cut a small slice of the melopita, and this time, I am the one to shoot her a look. "Is that it?" I ask playfully. She moves the knife a little. "Oh, come on. Is that worth getting out of bed for?!" She moves it a little more and looks at me, eyebrow raised. She lets out a huff. She chucks the knife into the sink and grabs a spoon. "YES!" I cheer. She laughs again. The sound warms me to my core. I wonder how often she allows herself to be vulnerable in this way.

We sit for a moment in silence, enjoying the sweet treat. "So, what's your story?" She asks. I gulp. "Married? Kids? Anything?"

"Not married, no kids. As for the rest... Well, uh. I'm still figuring it out, honestly."

"Aren't we all," Hera sighs. She looks at her feet.

Before any sense of self preservation can convince me not to speak, my mouth is forming words. "Hera, are you okay?"

She's taken aback. Her face becomes stone once again. "Of course I am okay. What a stupid thing to ask," she says coldly. I should have stayed quiet. I should walk away now and never speak to her again.

Instead, I speak to her again. "I don't mean to upset you. I just wondered if anyone has ever asked you that before."

Hera says nothing. She silently rises from her seat and crosses to the door frame. She hesitates before crossing the threshold. "I don't need anyone to worry about me." She says firmly.

"Maybe not, but I'm still gonna."

She stiffens. Then, she walks away without another word.

~~~

Later that week, I find myself making a familiar late-night pilgrimage to the kitchen. I listen carefully as I maneuver the halls of the Temple, checking around the corners before turning. She's nowhere in sight. I hope it stays that way.

I walk down the same corridor where I encountered Hera for the first time. The walls are lined with pictures of my father and his brothers. I pause next to one where Zeus and Hera stand together. His authoritative expression dominates the portrait. His arm is wrapped firmly around his wife, his sister. Hera's eyes are cold and empty.

When I see her sat at the table in the kitchen, they're red and wet.

She looks up at me. Her mouth opens, but no words come out. My heart breaks for her.

I cross to the refrigerator and pull out my own secret container. "Chocolate ice cream?" She nods.

We sit together in silence. I watch her shovel spoonfuls of ice cream into her mouth. Her long hair hangs limply about her head. I want to hug her and tell her it will all be okay, and I want to run away and hope she forgets all about me. Both are true. I am terrified.

It becomes a ritual. I watch Hera lead beside her husband by day with steely-eyed ruthlessness. An then, in that small kitchen in the middle of the night, I come to sit with her quietly while she cries. She never says a word, and neither do I.

~~~

Before I know what is happening, someone is pulling me into a closet. I nearly lose my balance, but slender arms wrap around me, covering my mouth. The door closes and the lock clicks. For a brief, horrifying moment, I am plunged into complete darkness, and unable to call for help. "Don't scream," a voice hisses into my ear. The lights flip on.

Before me stands a tall woman in an iridescent gown. Iris. Her arms are crossed, eyes narrowed. The hand comes off of my mouth. I turn to see another woman still holding my body back. Iris takes a step closer to me and leans in. "What are your intentions with my mistress?"

"...What?"

"Hera might seem like an easy target to you, but she's your worst nightmare" she hisses. "What are you planning?"

"I don't understand," I choke. "I'm not planning anything."

Iris stares at me for a long time. She puts a hand on my shoulder and leans so closely into my face that I can feel her breath on my cheek. "I know who you are. I know what you are. And if you hurt her, I will tell her everything, and she will end you, Ophelia."

My blood turns cold. I feel my hands growing numb. "I-I don't want to hurt her. I'm not trying to, I swear. She seems like she needs some help."

"I can help her," Iris hisses. Her eyes stay fixed on me. Her lip twists in disgust. Is this... jealousy? I feel the heat return to my cheeks.

"It's not like that!" Her eyes hit me like daggers. "She's my aunt!"

Iris continues to stare me down. Whatever she hopes to find, she doesn't. She lets out a sharp exhale. She motions to the woman behind me to let me go. Iris looks at me again. "She's a hard person to get close to, trust me. I didn't understand." She unlocks the door. "As long as you're just trying to help... well, I'll keep your secret if you keep mine." I nod. "No funny business, okay?"

I smirk. She rolls her eyes at me.

~~~

Tonight, when I enter the empty kitchen, I am surprised to feel a certain sadness about it. How have I gone from being afraid of Hera, to being her silent confidant? I sit down at the table. The empty seat across from mine feels unnatural.

"Hi," a voice says from behind me. I turn to see Hera standing in the doorway of the kitchen. "Can we take a walk?"

The garden outside the Temple is illuminated by a mixture of moonlight and tiny lanterns. "Why do you keep showing up?"

"...For snacks?"

Hera snorts. "If it was just about snacks, you could come earlier or later and avoid me." I look at my feet. "I give you part of me. You've seen me cry. Nobody sees that. Give me something. Please."

I stop walking. Hera turns to face me. I take a deep breath. "Two years ago, I was going to be married. It was something my mother chose for me. His family was wealthy and influential. I had some type love for him, don't get me wrong... but it wasn't the kind of love I want. He loved the fact that he had control over me. He loved me only when I submitted to the things he wanted. I had to be the kind of person he could love in order for him to love me, even if it meant being someone, something, that I absolutely am not." I feel my hands shake. I breathe in, and then out. "He lied to me. He cheated on me. He physically and verbally abused me." I swat at the tears rolling down my cheeks. "Walking away was the hardest thing I ever had to do. I didn't have anyone to help me through it."

I feel arms wrap around me. I lean in to her warmth. The sobs rip through me. My chest heaves. Hera strokes my hair. I realize that she is crying too. I hug her tight.

"...I'm not ready to walk away yet," Hera sobs.

I put my hands on her shoulders and look her in the eyes. "It's okay. Just know that I'm here for you no matter what you decide."

We stand together for a while, arm-in-arm. "Can I ask you one more thing?"

"What's up?"

"Can I call you my niece, Ophelia?"

My heart drops. "You know?"

Hera looks at me, an eyebrow raised. "I was going to kill you." I feel myself growing pale. She just laughs. "I found out the morning after we met, and I wanted to kill you. But I remembered what you said. And then I had this strange feeling that fate brought us together for a reason." She pulls my still-stunned figure into another hug. "Thank you for worrying about me. Maybe with your support, one day, I will be ready."

"As one of Zeus bastard children, you are doomed to be targeted by Hera, however you found a way to get on the queens good side before she found out who your father is. "

[fangdokja]

Not really a request, but just a thought to share with you! (If that’s alright?)

Imagine Yandere! Demon King having to resort to “granting” his darling immortality, having realized that her lifespan was impeccably fleeting compared to his and demonkind. And seeing how unruly, ferocious, and self-reliant she was throughout their entire time together (or more like her captivity), he went through the trouble of binding her to him in body and soul by turning her into a succubus.

With this, she would be forced to rely on him during “feeding hours”, leaving her utterly helpless as she refuses to “feed” on other people.

Not only would this bring her closer to him, but also the fact that she’s under his dominion now as a demoness.

— Random Anon

WARNING: Semi-formal rambling and formatting. Includes Library Recommendations (nsfw + sfw).

If you guys want Reader lore? (low-key surprised people asking for Reader lore in some series) Well... I already have it all prepared. It's coming next week. Not all of Reader lore yet, but enough to tell you that Reader is not as helpless against even the Yandere! Love Interests, as one might believe:

We have four new characters coming up. And these guys are part of the top tier powerhouses, even compared to Yandere! Demon King. Most likely stronger actually. Actually maybe the strongest four man lineup in the entire series. And personally, I like these guys best. Though, unsure if I'll give them more screentime than one chapter. There's reason for that, but we'll see.

I also have four more new characters alongside these guys, but I haven't finished writing for them as of the moment.

WHY IS THIS SERIES SO POPULAR. adnljdsddsgawfuishas. Is it really 'cause it's otome isekai???? or something else hahaha. I was literally just writing about myself 😭 I DID NOT MEAN TO MAKE THIS INTO AN ACTUAL SERIES.

OK, now onto the ASK + Library Recommendations (sfw + nsfw).

Nice to meet you, Random Anon :)) I'm glad you're comfortable enough to speak with me about your thoughts. Don't worry, it's fine. I'm glad you're willing and open to share ideas or thought dumps.

Also, out of topic, but I like how you guys are picking "names" and not just emojis haha. Actually, for me, I prefer you guys picking actual names of your choosing. I don't want to constrain the name picking, so feel free to name yourselves anything, when asking anonymously. It'll also help me identify you better. Just make sure it aligns with the blog RULES and Tumblr guidelines.

Ok, this is a thought. But, even in dark humor content and especially in world building. Logic and reality is a must here. I heavily dislike making non-canon lore, it's basically me writing fanfiction on my own work. I can do it, but I heavily prefer canon works only. It's also in my RULES. I will always prefer transparency and honesty, so I will be honest in my answer here. I am aware what you gave is a thought dump and an imagine-scenario, so not necessarily canon. Just sharing thoughts. But, I will expand on the reality of who Reader is.

Reader doesn't just have basic intelligence, nor a dead inside personality when it comes to romance. Canonically speaking, Reader can in fact take on the love interests. So, why does Reader rely on wit, the romance system, and no-powers-mode?

Well, that will come in the next extension of the series. Yes, I'm officially making these into a Headcanons Series. This one:

Yandere! Otome Game

♡ Characters Included. Yandere! Crown Prince, Archduke, Supreme Mage, Demon King, War Hero, Master Thief, Enemy Spy, Demon Assassin

Drabbles

How do you escape a yandere harem? Asking for a very distressed friend (me).

How to Turn ‘Till Death Do Us Part’ Into a Very Literal Situation.

"Romance is a garbage genre, but if I have to play, I might as well do it on easy mode."

The love interests were bad. The backup plans are worse.

One of them wants to marry you. The other wants to make sure he never does.

Headcanons 1 : How to Survive a Reverse Harem (You Don’t) (General)

I hate it here.

Why am I saying this? Because based on the timeline of the current story with Reader officially escaping and in hiding. It's practically an impossibility for any of the Yandere! Love Interests to try capturing and doing whatever they want with Reader. Yes, impossible.

And even if there was a slim chance of capture even before the escape. Let me tell you know.

No. It's impossible.

Why am I so sure? Well, you'll know why once the new characters come out.

In actuality, all my Reader characters have lore. I just don't give it away so freely, compared to yandere lore. Why? Well, I focus mostly on yandere content for one. The other is because all my Readers are meant to have enigmatic backgrounds. No, I did not just make this because I want you all to feel more in-depth self-insert or something.

The Reader characters have actual lore in fact, all of the characters I make do. I just don't say it outright, because spoilers obviously.

I wouldn't be a psychological horror-thriller author, if I gave things away so easily. I decided to give some crumbs because of the effort Random Anon put into this message. I want you to know, Random Anon, that I appreciate you having the courage to do this, being comfortable with me, and giving me a message of substance. So, thank you.

And, it's why I'm taking this seriously, even if it may disagree with yours or others' thoughts. These crumbs are canon information on the series and characters.

Ok, I rambled a lot. But, to clarify the following:

It's impossible for Yandere! Demon King to turn Reader into a demoness. Considering it's still very early into the series, and unlike my novellas, this is still a lighthearted dark humor series. As of the moment, there will be no permanent and explicit horror factors yet. Why? Characters are still being introduced. Did you really think I'd stop at eight? haha.

Anyways. Yes, later on, it can be changed. But not now.

The Veteran Readers and those who have read my novellas, should know how I write. Take a dip and see how I actually write my horror content. Like this one, newly uploaded as well. It's not even novella length, it's also a headcanons series, if that's what you're used to:

Yandere! Author

Headcanons 1 : Fate’s Final Draft (General)

He’s the hero in his own story… and you’re his latest toy.

🔞"You like happy endings? Too bad. I don’t write those."

I recommend reading Part 2, if you want to see how I write my actual horror content.

Anyways. I'm saying this now. If you honestly think I'll write vanilla yandere content, then I'm sorry, I don't. What I mean is that ALL the Yandere! Love Interests are still part of my yandere collection. Hence, they'll do way more than just controlled feeding and monitoring lifestyles. Especially the demon race, for example.

Or, rather, the stronger they are, the more dangerous they become.

These are the kind of yanderes I generally write: Dom + Top + Older + Sadistic + Red / Black Flag Yanderes

Nor do I hold back in writing horror content.

What you gave is basically the barebones part of yandere content. Trust me when I say, Yandere! Demon King is going to do a lot worse than just isolate and force feed you. In fact, I would even say, he would NOT turn Reader into a demoness. Why? Well, let's just say, he's not as kind and collected as he seems. And I'm not talking about him simply being an emotional mess.

Would Yandere! Demon King grant Reader immortality. No, he wouldn't. Not only is it illogical for him in his eyes, but he has better plans than simply turning Reader into a doll or servant.

Not to mention, yeah, I mentioned Yandere! Demon King can be emotionally unstable. But, I don't mean in simply losing his cool and patience; thus losing his sense of rationality, then acting reckless and stupid. Or losing himself in rage and emotional turmoil. It's something better.

Also, for non-human races. Here, to give you New Readers an idea on how I write them. Read the Sukuna part if you want to know:

Novella 1 : Dominate Me, Daddy. (Brat Tamer)

🔞Will you scream? Or will you beg? (Bakugo Katsuki, Yoichi Isagi, Ryōmen Sukuna, Rex Lapis, Sunday)

I know some of you New Readers came here for dark humor, and lighthearted comedy. But. Let me tell you now, once I write actual "true yandere" content. Well, it's not for the faint of heart.

I only made the dark humor content because I was mindblocked on horror content. It's basically idea generation to me, so I can exercise my brain for erotic horror.

The true yanderes I make are hard doms + top + older + unapologetic + sadistic + does not need darling's validation + will hurt the darling + may kill the darling + truly confident in themselves.

They do not care nor need the darling's permission, validation, feelings, etc. to take what they want. They're not weaklings like that. As individuals, they are strong in their own right. Including mentality.

Yes, this also includes the yanderes in the drabbles.

Do you want to know the ONLY yanderes that won't physically hurt you? It's these guys:

Yandere! Royal Guards

Drabbles

Royal Duties: looking pretty, sitting still, watching your guards destroy the kingdom.

You got isekai’d. Now three murder machines think your blank stares are divine wisdom.

And, that's because they're engineered to protect you, not harm you. These yanderes are the only canon yanderes that will never hurt you physically. They're the ones who will protect you with their lives. Aside from them? Nothing. No one. Every single yandere in my library will hurt and may kill you. Yes. Even if they may not seem like it, even if it's dark humor content, even if they look ridiculous and dramatic.

And you know the good thing about being a psychological horror-thriller author?

No one can tell what happens next.

❤︎ Fang Dokja's Books.

♡ Book 1. A Heart Devoured (AHD): A Dark Yandere Anthology ♡ Book 2. Forbidden Fruits (FF): Intimate Obsessions, Unhinged Desires. ♡ Book 3. World Ablaze (WA) : For You, I'd Burn the World. ♡ Book 4 [you are here]. Whispers in the Dark (WITD): Subtle Devotion, Lingering Shadows. ♡ Book 5. Ink & Insight (I&I): From Dead Dove to Daydreams. ♡ Library MASTERPOST 1. The Librarian’s Ledger: A Map to The Library of Forbidden Texts.

♡ Disclaimer. Not all stories are included in the masterpost due to Tumblr’s link limitations. However, most long-form stories can be found here. If you're searching for a specific yandere or theme, this guide will help you navigate The Library of Forbidden Texts. Proceed with caution—these tales explore obsession, madness, and devotion in their rawest forms.

[gnohomotho]

Hello there,

Valentines day tomorrow, and ofc i am a lonely gorl, so i thought about husband!junho making the day special for his wife? Fluff, fluff, fluff bc i am sensetive lol

Keep up the good work btw

You are doing amazing on here ❤️❤️😚

Aww, Anon, sending a big virtual hug your way. ♥ I'm sorry you're a lonely gorl. :c I am too, so please, I really hope this eases the loneliness just a little bit!

I have one slightly longer, but hopefully fluffy and very loving piece specially for Valentine's Day.

Thank you so, so very much, it truly means a lot to me. ♥♥♥ c':

(And if you like it, I really appreciate the reblogs, you're all so very lovely!)

Enjoy! .

.

.

Even If You Had Walked Away

Pairing: husband!Jun-ho x wife!f!reader Summary: Valentine's Day hides more than just a loving date for you, and Jun-ho knows this very well. It is a reminder of a day he almost lost you - and he has a surprise for you, for all those years, in one single evening. Warnings: Fluff! So much fluff. A tiny bit of angst, but I promise it ends in fluff. Please pack your insulin. Word count: 3.2k A/N: I hope you feel lovely on this day and all the next. ♥ Love your requests and your messages! ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶𐭩 ♡

Oh.

This day.

Valentine’s Day.

Somehow, each year, you managed to find a way to plan over it, and Jun-ho just as meticulously managed to pull you back in.

Last year, it was notes left around the house, your car suspiciously warm before you got in, and your favourite breakfast cooked before you left. He knew you would be worried about big gestures – he knew, but not quite, what the day signified for you. So when you saw him in the kitchen, after a sleepy kiss on his neck as he slowly turned around to greet you, you expected nothing more.

“Darling?” You looked at him softly, a little quizzically, as you always do when you’re a bit worried things aren’t as fine as they seem. You did so as you pulled away from the cuddle and felt his body pull with yours, not wanting to leave your embrace or your warmth.

One strong arm was still holding yours – lightly, but with deep affection. Jun-ho did not wish to sever the connection between you by letting go even for a second. Slowly he slid his arm around you, letting it rest against your back, should he need to pull you close again.

You waited for your answer but could not resist the peaceful warmth of the moment, and lifted a hand – tenderly brushing the hair from his forehead and sliding down to cup his cheek. Instinctively, Jun-ho closes his eyes and leans into your palm, caressing you as he does so.

Even as your touch leaves, he remains quiet, and you look at your husband with new eyes. Still in casual clothing, still just your Jun-ho, swaying with you in his favourite black v-neck shirt that you associate with only him and his sleepy form.

How many nights have you woken up to this shape, this broad chest, inches from yours...or suddenly lifting and falling peacefully against your own heart.

How many times have those strong arms unabashedly stolen your much contested blanket only to wrap you up thoroughly in its place.

How many times did those legs lovingly intertwine with yours the moment your alarm clock rang, his sleepy voice murmuring sweet nothings of discontent and forcing you to set your alarms ten minutes before their actual time because his legs and fervour at keeping you close were strong.

And somehow, with your thigh firmly against his, aided by his own, your calves wrapped in his warmth and so very close, your tummy tucked so comfortably and perfectly to your sleeping love you could feel him breathe, well, you learned to set your alarm a full half hour before its actual time.

And now, though his form looms over you, you feel entirely safe; though it is snowing fluffy snowflakes outside, you are brimming with fluttering, affectionate warmth that could keep a fireplace alight for days. Though the day isn’t your happiest, you might as well have forgotten the number on the calendar.

And Jun-ho, with his gentle smile reaching his eyes, was only swaying with you ever se so slightly as he held your hips, thumbs tucked up against your waist; the smile was cheeky, but incredibly sweet.

You melt in his touch and almost let a little laugh carry the mood – he couldn’t look cunning or devilish if he tried. Not to you. But he was trying, and you did not wish to ruin his sincere attempts.

“Hmm?” He humms with a little inflection, nonchalantly, still smiling. As if saying “nothing to see here, officer,” though he was obviously not used to being on the other side of the law. And it showed. Before you answer, Jun-ho almost unnoticeably shifts you with a gentle tug where his arms and fingers rest against your skin – you notice nothing but a little dig into each of your hips – and kisses your forehead the moment gravity trips you into him. Clever, you grin into the crane of Jun-ho’s neck and kiss his chin in retaliation.

“I don’t think all is going according to schedule, sweetheart.” He pulls away and smiles the sentence into existence, a hint of genuine care for your wellbeing crossing his visage. Jun-ho’s eyes move towards the window, then to your phone resting on the table. You follow his gaze and your heart momentarily sinks.

“Are we seriously getting snowed in? How will I get to…”

“I’m pretty sure that phone lit up with messages regarding not coming to work, darling…and,” Jun-ho looks upwards as if thinking, truly acting his way into the Oscars here, playfully ponders around, “if I know anything about the wiring and the outlay of that building, I am highly inclined to assume you’d be sitting by candlelight, using folded paper in place of a computer if you really wanted to try and keep up appearances.”

After a small moment, he added, “and I don’t want my Y/N alone by candlelight with anyone else, thank you very much.”

He kisses your forehead again without warning, but you feel him smile into the kiss. As he pulls away, you almost regret brushing his hair away from his forehead, because that single eyebrow lift abetted by that absolutely cheeky smile should be illegal.

︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶

You did your best trying to work from home, finding it very hard to focus. The nicer and more wistful your thoughts were towards Jun-ho, the more a slight pang of guilt tore its way into your chest.

A few years ago, you almost broke up.

And the thought cementing it, the thought where you couldn’t keep it up anymore...came on Valentine’s Day.

You did not wish to do it then (as mean as it was clichéd) and Jun-ho laid it all out on the table – a beautiful dinner date and absolute honesty. You fell in love with him, then, all over again, when you truly thought it would be a sad end to a broken coupling.

Many things played their part back then – his secrecy, his constant disappearing, his excuses for being gone for so long.

His face was so very troubled back then, deepened with new stress lines and new worries each time you saw him – each time, the moments you spent apart seemed to use a sharper knife on his face whenever they returned him back to you.

Sometimes you worried they would keep him.

You were suffocating and so incredibly distraught. When he left. You worried. When he was with you. He wasn’t. Not truly. And you worried more.

The weight that he refused to share with you was dragging you both down into the depths of the ocean and no matter how much you tried, how strong your grip, how intricate your angle – you could not unravel him from whatever was at the end of the rope.

Somehow, you even tried to suspect cheating, though you knew he would never do that – simply for the fact that whatever he was doing was far more dangerous than another woman. And through all, you truly, deeply cared about Jun-ho. And Jun-ho knew that what you had between you, the love he held for you and the love held in your tender chest for him – held the sharpest blade of all.

What was it, back then? Your love extended past simple ownership or relationship status – if he were to be with someone else or alone, but safe and content, sleeping through the night, you would very bitterly but gladly swallow that pill. And he knew it. He knew it and sensed you pulling away.

Jun-ho wasn’t content with distance from you, never. One day, he came back, close to this particular date. His hair was dishevelled, his clothes smelling of salt and seawater, his eyes dim and tired, and his hands covered in scrapes and scratches.

But his eyes, his eyes stared into yours with resolute burning depth, speaking with no words necessary. Jun-ho loved you, and did not wish to lose you, nor endanger you, and he was as lost in the cruelty of the situation as you were. But above it all was a silent promise. Your mind wanders away, for its own safety, as your eyes begin to sparkle – your skin suddenly enveloped in frost.

Doubts. Worries.

Is he happy? Is he regretting the choice? Did I mess up a loving date forever and remind him each year? Does he ever wish to…go back and reverse it all? All of it? Go back to a time he never met me, go back and erase the wedding, the proposal, was there ever any doubt in that lovely smile?

︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶

A little knock on the door to your make-shift office alerts you from tables and notes. You look up, and realise the soft orange light reflecting the snowy cape on your window is the streetlamp, and it is dark outside.

“Yes?”

Jun-ho slowly opens the door, dressed in a comfortable, but elegant sweater, long dark trousers, and sensible socks.

You blink.

You blink again.

“Jun-ho? Is…what’s going on?”

He can’t be going anywhere, the snow outside is as beautiful and tranquil as it is all-enveloping.

Jun-ho says nothing, a knowing smile dancing on his lips as he stands in the door; he makes a small leaning motion with his neck, closing his eyes as he points out of your door without using a single word. He had the air of someone who knows all there is to know, and what he doesn’t does not matter.

And in this moment, you were all he wished to know.

“I’ll just…I’ll just put on something nice, you look too lovely.”

You manage to stutter, but he has already covered half your distance and is extending a hand to you.

“You look beautiful, my love. You always look beautiful. I have never seen you in a piece of clothing that could even begin to rival your features, Y/N. Come.”

You take his hand and he leads you to the living room. You adjust your eyes to the reassuring darkness that is softly illuminated by guttering candlelight of many, many little flames.

They hop as you disturb the air – dancing and fluttering in seemingly the same anticipation you are feeling in your chest. Cushions are arranged into a cute, comfy, fort-like bed. A little makeshift table sits in the middle, your favourite flower resting upon it next to a meal you…you shared on the day a few years ago.

He…he remembers.

Your hand grips Jun-ho’s, both to steady itself and to convey your utter adoration for your husband.

In this moment. In the next. In all moments to come.

You are lost for words, heart beating out of your chest, you wish to thank him, to hold him, to jump into his arms and push him into the pillows he so lovingly arranged – you want to whisper sweet ‘I love yous’ into his neck and chest and hear his heart jump at each touch, you want to melt in his arms and his tenderness and lose your train of thought.

“Jun-ho…this is…this is so beautiful, I don’t know what to say…”

But Jun-ho pulls away from you, still holding both your hands, now standing far enough to leave both your arms extended. His eyes rest upon you with affectionate tranquility – his fingers are softly circling yours as he holds you. Slowly he lets go of your hand and lifts a single finger to his mouth, in a small hushing motion. You say nothing more, but your melted heart doesn’t do well with surprises. Not on this day.

Jun-ho turns and leaves your other hand empty, taking the flower from the table and resting it in his place.

It’s beautiful, gentle, elegant. Your very favourite. You close your eyes and inhale its smell.

Jun-ho watches you intently. Eyes filled with the same knowing adoration he watched you with all those years ago. He wonders how he managed to get so very lucky. How foreign the thought of you seemed back then.

You, standing in your shared living room, smelling a flower and blissfully, beautifully, utterly his to love and cherish.

His wife – with her hair cascading down like a beautiful river, the lines of worry gone from her face, her tender eyes that could spark a fire in a lake now peaceful, loving, resting upon a flower as beautiful as her.

You notice the slow fall of his eyelids as he watches you, eyes closing in adoration and joining a subtle, guarded smile. Jun-ho clears his throat and leans back to the makeshift table, pulling a note from behind the candle in its centre.

Was it your imagination or did his hands shiver in the flame’s warm light?

“Y/N…my Y/N…” he begins, and no, that wasn’t your imagination. The paper contracted a wave from his grip as he steadied his breath.

“I…know what today represents. To you. To us.”

He looks up, looks at you, steadies his breath, and the smile nervously spreads – but you see the fervour in his expression to keep matters serious.

Jun-ho continues, eyes firmly buried in the letter.

“But I don’t think you know what it represents to me.”

Oh.

A twinge of worry. Ice prickles the small of your back. Those doubts threaten to break the warm atmosphere, yet he continues.

“It’s the day I almost lost what was most dear to me.”

Your eyebrows stiffen as your gaze fills with both concern for him and a need to hold him tight.

“I felt you slipping away each day, and with that, I felt as if I was losing parts of myself. As if each heartbeat in your presence catalysed by your warmth, by your presence alone, wasn’t mine to keep anymore."

"Each touch we shared, each breath I exhaled – it was as if all the warmth in me, all the good things that were growing so few and far between within me back then, all of them wished to remain with you."

"And I am sorry, my sweet, my darling Y/N…I am sorry that I, for even a moment, almost let them leave with you."

"I knew you would keep them safe, I knew you would hold them, protect them, care for them with the tenderness and love you hold in your heart for each being you encounter – and you would expect nothing in return."

"I watched sorrow, worry, frustration and finally, the most painful of all…acceptance caress your beautiful face and shine through your eyes. Dimming those unconditionally accepting eyes I did not deserve."

"Offering a pale reflection of what was left of me without you.”

Your hands were trembling. His large yet gentle form in front of you was losing its sharp lines; the scene began to blur into a soft orange hue as you realised your eyes failed to hold onto their tears. Though it was Jun-ho, he seemed…so very delicate in this moment. Laying himself utterly bare before you. Your heart was sending ripples through your body. You wished to hold him, kiss him, reassure him. But remained still. Your husband continued.

“Each year, I wrote down what was following me every time I thought of that night. I wrote of what I love about you – but managed to run out of paper.”

He let out a small, self-soothing chuckle, failing to meet your eyes, and you noticed the candles reflecting a few errant sparkles in their corner. Oh, Jun-ho…

He blinked his eyes quite harshly and continued.

“So I wrote down all the reasons…you should be happy without me.”

He breathed out a faintly shaking breath and let the silence speak for him. Exhaling once more, he now sounded like the weight was beginning to leave his chest and grip his shoulders with less strength.

“Which proved incredibly fruitless.” Jun-ho straightened, narrowing his eyes towards the paper, still avoiding yours.

“Not that you did not deserve to be happy, not that the reasons weren’t both valid and sound – but I refused to let you go without a fight. To lose something I breathe for, someone I keep safe in a place inside of my heart no one else may enter, come hell or high water, someone whose voice alone brings nothing but joy and serenity to all it touches…losing that…by doing nothing but letting her go?”

Jun-ho finally looked up at you, eyes sparkling, and that smile – that beautiful, wide smile you loved so much, underlining his words:

“Well, we couldn’t have that.”

You let out a quiet, incredibly nervous yet sweet noise that was intended to be laughter before it got caught in your throat. Tears fall once again, the motion and exhale alleviating the built tension in your heart and chest.

Tension and strain caught wrestling with a wave of all-encompassing love aimed straight for Jun-ho.

It was already flooding you from tip to toe, and you had no words. No words at all. Your hand slowly lifts up to your lips, shielding your mouth as you try to hide your expression, your tears, your smile – and still, Jun-ho continues.

“So each year, I wrote something else. Something concerning every reason I would fight for you again.”

He lowered the paper now, arms at his sides, looking directly at you.

“And again, and again, and again if needed.”

You let your hand leave your mouth, slowly letting it fall to your side too, caught in the waves starting to pool in the soles of your feet, you were sure he had to feel them too.

“Unfortunately,” he half-laughed, half smiled, getting rid of the last of the tension in his body as he rested the letter back on the table, “the weight of that almanac threatened to break our bookshelf.”

Jun-ho stepped closer to you, beckoning your hand with his slowly extending, up-turned palm. You laid yours upon it immediately, relishing the familiar safety, the beautiful warmth, the love emanating from each brush of his fingertips.

“And although the physical copy exists, safely stored away, I thought it better to translate every word for my wife into a language she might prefer.”

Jun-ho closes the distance between you and softly places his other arm around your waist, resting his hand in the small of your back.

With a small pull, he softly, leans into you and kisses your forehead.

“A language which I would most certainly love to express.”

He kisses the bridge of your nose right between your brows, slowly planting kisses down to the tip of your nose, then finally, finally ending upon your mouth. Jun-ho’s soft lips caress yours without kissing just yet, brushing, enjoying, cherishing…a tender whisper circles your ear:

“Would that be alright, miss Y/N? I hear your husband is terrible with words.”

You both start giggling at the same exact second, momentarily leaving each other’s lips to bask in the intimacy and bliss of the moment.

“Of course, Jun-ho, I mean, Mr. Officer and Official Translator, I would be delighted to learn.”

Jun-ho needed no further signal to scoop you up into his arms as if it were nothing to him, momentarily holding and enjoying your warmth, your laughter, your body against his. With a little circling motion he holds you closer, squeezing you tight and softly, gently, without letting even an inch of skin go without his touch, lays you into the pillows below.

And follows straight after with that beautiful, mischievous grin you fell in love with all those years ago.

[nakidoriii]

Speechless (Part 2)

Nerdjo x Reader

Read Part one here

WARNING: pure smut || MDNI

“I fear that you’ve been on my mind the most.” His hands slowly work their way up your body, stopping at your breasts. “You know I have a crush on you. In fact, you like that I have a crush on you. I notice everything, Y/N.” His hands slide down from breasts, down to your hips. You bend over the counter top, instinctually. He lifts your skirt revealing your lace trim underwear. Your round ass pressed perfectly against the tent in his pants. The sight of you bent over the counter has him salivating. He can’t help but to hump on you.

“What’d you notice?” You say playing along. You were dripping at this point. You loved how he wasn’t controlling his urges and completely giving in. To want you so bad that he’s dry humping you? Seeing him this feral was something you never thought you’d see.

“Huh, this ass is perfect. You’re always so handsy with me because you love the attention.” Grinding more intensively as he spoke. “You like having me as your simp but now I want more. Fuck, I want so much more, Y/N.”

He taps you on your thighs signaling you to turn towards him. You look up at him with pleading eyes, begging him to kiss you. He grabs your face, pulling you into a passionate kiss. His tongue forcing its way into your mouth, he was hungry for you. You were curious to know just how much he was packing. As your tongues caressed each other, you place your hand over the bulge in his pants. Using your finger, you trace the outline taking note of how long it is.

“You curious? I’ll take it out for you.” He says inches away from my lips. You nod your head, yes, because the words weren’t coming to you. Every time he spoke to you like that, he left you speechless. You’re still adjusting to this side of him.

He unbuckles his belt and pulls down pants. He groans as his hard dick springs out of his briefs. The face you made when you saw it made Gojo let out a laugh.

“What’s with that face, Y/N? Too big?” The words coming out of his mouth like a melody.

“Yes, I mean..no it’s… I just didn’t expect it to be so…” you rub your thumb over the tip, spreading his precum. He hisses at the immediate contact. You look up at him and slowly get on your knees, letting the intrusive thoughts win. You close your eyes as you wrap your plump lips around the tip of his dick, tasting his precum.

“Ahhh, this is a dreaaaam. I can’t believe your pretty lips are wrapped around my cock, right now.” He moaned as he bucked his hips lightly, getting me to take more of him down my throat. I placed my palms on his thighs as he ran his fingers through my thick hair.

“I want a good view of your face when I fuck it.” He says holding my hair up in a ponytail.

You brace yourself as he thrusts deeper down your throat. You weren’t worried about the length but you were worried about the girth. His shaft was by the far the thickest you’ve seen but that made you only want to try it more. You start to gag once he picks up the pace. He looks down at you with a devilish smile as you look up at him with your glossy pleading eyes. His pornographic moans fill the room as he locks eyes with you, making sure you’re eyes are on him as he fucks your face. The next thing you know, he pulls out from your mouth and lets out a laugh.

“Is something funny?” You furrow your brows out of confusion.

“You were about to make me cum and I haven't even gotten to see you naked… I thought I was in charge but I'm still simping after you, Y/N.”

The way he speaks so confidently turns you on more, if that was even physically possible. You took a moment to realize you DO have the upper hand. You get off your knees and grab the waistband of your lace trim panties from under your skirt. You slide them down your legs, torturously slow, causing Gojo to start rubbing his dick at the sight of you.

“Now take off your top.” He demands as he continues to stroke.

You shed your top leaving you in just your skirt and bra. Before he could give another demand, you unhook your bra, revealing your breasts to him. Like a moth to flame, his hands were already fondling them.He played with your nipples, watching your face contort in pleasure as he snuck two fingers in your wetness. He pulls you into a kiss, muting both of your moans. You were making such a mess all over his hand. He loved having this power over you and he wanted to abuse the hell out of it.

“Want me to fuck you?” He says pulling away from your lips. His fingers kept going as he asked you this question, wanting to watch you struggle as you answer him.

“Pl-please, Gojo.” You squeal as he moves his finger in a ‘come here’ motion

“Mmm, Please what?” A devilish smile spreads across his face as he teases you. He wanted to see you as worked up as you got him on the daily.

“Fuck me.” You cry out as the tips of his fingers graze your g spot. He pulls his fingers out, licking them clean before turning you around. He bends you over the counter, taking a good look at your dripping folds before he rubs the tip of his dick through them.

“Uhh, you’re so wet, princess. I bet I’ll slide right in.” He says as he lines himself up to your entrance.

He grabs your hips as he pushes into you, stopping half way. You both let out a porngraphic moan as you sucked him in. His nails dig into your hips as he thrusted towards you, closing the gap between you two. Now he was left speechless. He felt your walls clenching on him and it felt nothing like he’d imagined, it was sooooo much better. He didn’t even give you time to adjust.

“Holy shit, y-you feel so good.” You whined as he bucked his hips.

Gojo couldn’t form any words. All he muttered out was ‘Yea?’ in between his moans. It was the feeling of your walls clenching around him that made him pick up the pace. He wanted to get as deep as he could. You grip the counter top, attempting to brace yourself as he fucks you stupid. Your eyes roll to the back of your head as he bends down and whispers, “Ugh, your pussy is so good, Y/N.” straight into your ear.

“Keep talking to me like that, baby.” You beg as he steadily thrusts into you.

“Why would I stop? I’ve wanted this for so long. Mmm, I’m so lucky to have my dick in the student council president.” He grips your hair to pull you close to him. “If only you knew how many times I’ve made myself cum thinking about you.” He changed his pace to powerful deep thrusts which jolted you forward everytime his hips met your ass.

Every word he was saying was pushing you closer and closer to your orgasm. His words turned into moans and kisses, signaling you he was close too. He lets go of your hair and grabs your ass instead. Smacking it a few times as he moaned your name. His thrusts start to get sloppy but he holds you in place as he pushes so far into you.

“You deserve to cum, baby. Fill me up.” You moan looking back at him with lust in your eyes.

You wanted to make him happy since he constantly thinks of you. You wanted this moment to be everything he’d ever imagined.

“Yea? You’re such a slut for me, fuuuuccck.” He groans as he comes undone.

His warm ropes of cum coat your walls, that last thrust sending you overboard as well. Filling you up was in understatement.

“Woah, let’s clean you up and then we can study.” He says as he pulls out of you.

This is the end of my mini series! I hope you guys enjoyed my take on Nerdjo! Leave a comment if you enjoyed it :)

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