#Gender Neutral reader

[ariichive]

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he didn’t realize how many people yearned for you as much as he did. and now that he had, the thought sat heavy in his chest, unsettling in a way he didn’t quite know how to handle.

cw: gender neutral, fluff, lighthearted, jealousy, slight stalking, reader has a lot of fans, secret admirers, established relationships, creepy letter in phainon's part

in okhema, there’s an npc named myrion who has a bunch of admirers lined up for her, so this inspired me lmaoo! once again, mydei's is my favorite... love writing for him

mydei₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

when you and mydei had gone on a casual stroll through okhema, he wasn't expecting to discover how well-known you were around the city.

verax leo was a mouthy lion, one that overheard many conversations in its time in the holy city.

you, wanting to stop by and see if the lion had any new riddles, were not expecting for the verax to use this as an opportunity to tease the prince of kremnos.

"the beautiful muse of the mighty prince, [name]! an honor to see you! here for another riddle?"

mydei’s brow arched ever so slightly at the greeting, golden eyes flickering between you and verax leo with a quiet intensity.

“beautiful?” he echoed, tilting his head in that slow, calculating way of his.

you sighed, already sensing where this was going. “don’t start.”

verax leo let out a deep, rumbling chuckle. “oh? have i struck a nerve, mighty prince? or perhaps… have i simply voiced what many already whisper?”

mydei's perfect brow furrowed even deeper, "explain, annoying lion, what you mean by that."

verax leo, suddenly sensing the thick tension, voice wavered as he responded. "w-well, i would not live up to my name if i didn't put this in the form of a riddle!"

mydei didn't answer, only narrowing his eyes at the golden mount. "in the city of okhema, there are many beautiful antiques and valuables. often sought after. but, there's one that's unattainable, and can only be spoken of in whispers my lion ears can hear."

you blinked, glancing between mydei and verax leo, sensing the shift in the atmosphere.

mydei’s expression remained unreadable, his golden eyes sharp as they bore into the lion. “go on.”

verax leo let out a nervous chuckle, but continued nonetheless. “this treasure is admired by all, longed for by many, yet it rests in the hands of one who walks among us.” the lion paused before continuing. “and oh, how the city wonders… will the one who holds it keep their grasp, or will another dare to reach?”

mydei let the silence stretch between them, his expression unreadable. then, with slow precision, he turned to you.

“is that true?” his voice was softer now, but laced with something deeper—something possessive.

you rolled your eyes, a hint of amusement in your voice. “it’s just a riddle, mydei. you don’t actually think—”

“but it is true,” he interrupted smoothly, gaze never leaving yours. “you are sought after. spoken of in whispers. desired. it would be foolish if people didn't see your beauty.”

you swallowed, suddenly hyperaware of the weight of his attention. “mydei—”

he exhaled, then, a slow, quiet breath, before looking back at verax leo. “and tell me, lion, what happens to those who reach for the unattainable?”

verax leo hesitated before answering, voice lower this time. “they risk being burned.”

a small smirk ghosted across mydei’s lips, though there was no humor in it—only certainty. “then let them whisper.”

and with that, he took your hand, lacing his fingers with yours before leading you away from the lion’s watchful gaze, leaving nothing else to be said.

as you walked through the streets of okhema, the whispers verax spoke of suddenly felt louder—eyes flickering toward you, smiles offered, murmurs shared between passersby. you had never thought much of it before, but now, with mydei at your side, his grip firm around your hand, it was impossible to ignore.

“you’re really letting that riddle get to you, huh?” you finally said, glancing at him.

mydei didn’t answer immediately. instead, his golden eyes stayed forward, scanning the streets, his expression unreadable. when he finally spoke.

“it isn’t the riddle that bothers me,” he said. “it’s the fact that it isn’t just a riddle.”

you sighed for the hundredth time. “it's—”

“how many?” he asked suddenly.

you blinked. “...how many what?”

his gaze flickered to yours, sharp and calculating. “how many people have whispered about you? how many have longed for something they will never have?”

heat crept up your neck, but you scoffed, shaking your head. “do you hear yourself right now?”

“i hear the city.” his thumb brushed over your knuckles absentmindedly. “and i hear verax leo. neither of them are wrong.”

you stopped walking, tugging his hand to make him face you fully. “and? does it matter?”

his jaw tightened for the briefest moment before he exhaled, as if weighing his words. “no,” he said. then, softer, more certain: “not when the whispers mean nothing to you.”

your breath hitched, but before you could respond, he lifted your joined hands, pressing a slow, deliberate kiss to your fingers.

“let them whisper,” he repeated, gaze locked onto yours. “as long as they know who you belong to.”

you gave his hand a small squeeze before pulling him forward. “come on, prince of kremnos. we’ve wasted enough time indulging a silly lion.”

he let you pull him along, but his grip remained firm, unwavering. “hm. i suppose. though, next time, i may indulge verax leo myself.”

you raised a brow. “oh?”

his golden eyes glimmered. “yes. i’d like to hear what else the city whispers—so i know exactly what to silence.”

you snorted, shaking your head. “unbelievable.”

but as the two of you walked away, hand in hand, the city’s whispers no longer mattered. after all, there was no need for speculation when the truth was already clear—mydei had already won the prize they all longed for. and he had no intention of ever letting go.

phainon₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

phainon was a man that took pride in his relationship with you, always taking the initiative to show you off. he knew you were gorgeous, and was extremely lucky to have you before anyone else.

he'd often hear praise of your name throughout okhema, be it the older lady that worked the market or a young kid.

but there was an extent to how much he could take, especially when it became borderline crazy.

phainon, call him petty, often discarded the various love letters that were made for you. he would read through them and laugh at their contents. these men knew nothing about you, and it almost made him feel bad.

almost.

there was no room in his heart for men that overstepped many boundaries; and the letter in his hand was a prime example of this.

'Dear [Name],

you have caught my attention, which is an honor not many can achieve. I see the way you interact with the people of the Holy City, but I cannot help but be curious; when will it be my turn? To see your beautiful eyes gaze at me? Must I do something extravagant? I watch you, the way your eyes light up when the infamous Chrysos Heir greets you. Tell me, is it that simple? There's no way you're impressed by his-'

phainon stopped reading the letter there, irritation already seeping deep into his veins. not only was the letter addressed to his quarters, but now he had the nerve to diss him?

phainon was so lost in thought, he didn't notice you enter the bedroom.

you tilted your head, watching him with mild curiosity. it wasn’t often that he was this distracted, his fingers curled tightly around a piece of parchment, blue eyes narrowed in what could only be irritation.

"what's wrong?" you asked, stepping closer.

phainon blinked, finally registering your presence. his expression smoothed almost instantly, slipping into something more composed—too composed.

"nothing of importance," he said, rolling the letter between his fingers before tossing it onto the desk. "just another fool with more confidence than sense."

your gaze flickered to the discarded parchment. "another love letter?"

he exhaled, crossing his arms. "unfortunately."

curious, you reached for the letter. phainon's hand twitched as if debating whether to snatch it away, but he let you take it. as you scanned its contents, amusement tugged at your lips—until you got further down.

"just a creep," you muttered, throwing the letter somewhere of no importance.

"perhaps i should respond," he mused. "it would be a shame if our dear admirer thought their words went unread."

"phainon."

"oh, come now, you should know me well enough by now." his grin was all mischief and indulgence. "i wouldn't be cruel. i'd simply... clarify a few things."

"by 'clarify,' you mean gloat."

"semantics."

you sighed again, running a hand down your face. "you're crazy."

"and yet," he echoed, mirth dancing in his voice, "people still test me."

he leaned in then, voice a quiet hum against your ear. "but if you truly wish for me to ignore them, all you have to do is say so. you know i'm weak for your word."

"i'm well aware," you giggled softly which made his cheeks warm in delight.

"though i do wonder, would a ring around your finger put an end to this cruelty?" he put a hand over his heart in faux pain. though he was teasing, you couldn't help but notice the truth in his words.

"only one way to find out."

anaxa₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

you were perfect, it was a fact any being with senses knew. more importantly, you were his perfect assistant. always there to assist him when he was busy with a student or to find his favorite pen.

it was these little things that mattered most to him, and he made sure your help never went unrecognized.

you watched anaxa busy himself helping his students with their research, the stack of thesis' on his desk going unlooked at.

"anaxa," your voice sweetly cut through the academic chatter of the classroom.

“i assume you’re here to remind me of some terribly dull obligation? my neglected paperwork, perhaps?”

you crossed your arms, unimpressed. “i was going to suggest taking a break, but clearly, your self-awareness is intact.”

his smirk deepened as he placed his hands on his hips. “why, of course. i am nothing if not entirely conscious of my own habits—though I do wonder how I managed before you.”

“poorly,” you deadpanned. “misplaced notes, forgotten meals, and a truly tragic reliance on last-minute efforts.”

he hummed in response, glancing at his student who wouldn't stop looking at you.

"i can help your students, you should use this time to look at the tablets and papers on your desk."

anaxa tilted his head, regarding you with an expression that was equal parts amusement and something more inscrutable. “how generous of you,” he murmured, fingers idly tapping against the untouched stack of work. “but tell me, dear, are you implying that my guidance is somehow… lacking?”

his tone was smooth, laced with that ever-present air of self-assuredness, but you knew him well enough to catch the teasing edge beneath it.

you merely raised a brow. “i’m implying that your penchant for procrastination is as legendary as your intellect. i don't wish to wake from slumber to you scribbling and muttering to yourself. ”

he exhaled a dramatic sigh, finally deigning to glance at the tablets and papers before him. “so cruel, yet so efficient,” he mused. “very well, if only to spare you the tragedy of watching me scramble at the last moment.”

anaxa retreated to his paperwork, leaving you with the student he was previously helping. you glanced down at his report, seeing unique sketches of chimeras.

"oh!" you exclaimed in excitement, leaning over the scholar's shoulder. "chimeras, i know a decent amount about them. i used to frequent the garden of life," before meeting anaxa, you wanted to add on, knowing he hated whenever you mentioned okhema.

the student perked up at your enthusiasm, eyes wide with curiosity. “you’ve been to the garden of life?” he asked, glancing between you and his sketches. “i’ve only read about it in records. is it true that some of the creatures there can work for hours?”

you nodded, a faint smile tugging at your lips. “some can, yes. their adaptability is remarkable, and they are super friendly!”

watching the student scribble things down, you continued. "even though they have a small and cute appearance, chimeras are very intelligent, understanding human speech despite not speaking it themselves."

anaxa smiled gently as he overheard your conversation, finding comfort in your voice. until he overheard another, more annoying conversation.

"[name] really is smart, no wonder professor keeps her to himself."

"yeah, it's a shame, if i had someone like [name]-"

anaxa stood up abruptly from his desk, the chair making a loud screech against the floor.

the sudden noise startled both you and the student, cutting your conversation short. you turned to see anaxa standing with an air of composed irritation, his pretty eyes sharp as they swept over the room.

“fascinating,” he drawled, his voice carrying just enough bite to make the offending students stiffen. “i wasn’t aware my assistant’s intelligence was up for public discussion—nor that any of you had the credentials to make such evaluations.”

a tense silence fell over the room. the scholars in question looked away, suddenly engrossed in their own work.

anaxa hummed, satisfied, before adjusting his cuffs with deliberate elegance. “i’d suggest you redirect your academic curiosity to something more productive. unless, of course, you believe gossip will earn you a place in my lectures?”

you sighed, rubbing your temples. this wasn’t the first time anaxa had taken offense on your behalf, though his methods were as dramatic as ever.

“professor,” you said, voice edged with both exasperation and amusement, “i believe your paperwork still requires your attention."

he hummed, completely ignoring you.

as he returned to his desk, you exhaled, shaking your head before refocusing on the student’s report.

still, you could feel anaxa’s gaze lingering—not on his paperwork or the students, but on you.

“professor,” you murmured without looking up, “if you’re going to stare at me all afternoon, at least pretend to be grading.”

[eveningcherryblossoms]

It's A Beta Life, Not A Better Life | Part 6

A platonic yandere Batfam x neglected beta reader story

Unlike Bruce and Dick, Jason had never known your mother. As a matter of fact, he hadn't even known of your mother's existence until news of her death destroyed Bruce in one blow and you came to live at the manor.

Jason was thirteen then, scarcely a year off the street. Even to this day the past still haunted him–trying to ignore pangs of hunger as he dug through the dumpster, huddling by a fire in an oil drum with other street kids, stealing whatever valuables he could get his hands on. Then there were the Batmobile tires and suddenly he was removed from all that to the home of literally the richest pack in Gotham. Suddenly three meals a day, a comfortable bed, hot showers, brand-new clothes, medicine for sicknesses, even school were no longer a dream he'd had to give up on after his mother's death.

Then suddenly, you arrived.

You, Bruce's biological child with the omega he loved. Versus him, a street rat Bruce adopted on what he wouldn't have been surprised to be but the whim of an eccentric rich man–even if said man was also secretly the vigilante of Gotham, whom he'd been assisting as Robin. It should be obvious who was more important between you and him.

Jason would take the truth to his second grave, but the truth was he unintentionally acted like a two-faced omega antagonist in one of those cliche brainless novels. What was the Chinese term for it again, white lotus? Green tea bitch?

One might argue that him presenting without warning so close to your arrival was something beyond his control, as was his heat-addled self rambling of insecurity and inferiority to Bruce. Jason could not help wincing in secondhand embarrassment whenever he remembered his own actions back then anyway.

His young omega self even acted so obviously scared of you then. Like he was at your mercy, like with one word from you Bruce would cast you off back into the street. Why the fuck did he act like that again? It wasn't deliberate; Jason would've sooner beat himself up than act like a victim and villify a pup to secure the love of said pup's father.

But he still did that. Deliberate or not, his going omega self did keep acting scared around you. He also did keep hanging out with Bruce, Dick, and Alfred without mentioning you–sometimes because he genuinely forgot to, but some other times because he actively decided not to say a word.

When Joker killed him in that warehouse, Jason thought it was divine retribution.

Then, inexplicably, he came back to life. He got taken by Talia to the League of Assassins and dipped in the Lazarus Pit, coming out even more inexplicably an alpha. Full of power and rage and craving for vengeance. Any thought of you was set aside after that.

By the time Jason realized it, you had grown up. An alpha pup, still newly presented. But already daring to bark and strut around Crime Alley like you owned it.

(You really didn't. You just walked there normally to and from school.)

Had Jason remained an omega... Well, who knew how he would've treated you. As things were, he merely instructed his lieutenants to keep an eye out. He had given you a warning, so if you dared mess around in his Crime Alley Jason wouldn't hesitate to scruff you all the way back to Daddy Bat.

Jason scoffed to himself. That would be his way to make amends for his omega self's actions, without losing his dignity as Red Hood–leaving your discipline to your pack alpha.

Another goddamn alpha in this goddamn pack, Jason thought, exasperated. If you were a beta...

He paused. Blinked. Imagined a world where you did present as a beta. Grinned to himself.

Hah, yeah. No way. If you were a beta and dared go about his territory like that... Jason wouldn't hesitate to claim you for himself and the pack.

Who told an unclaimed beta to wander by their self?

As you hit another bullseye, you marked down two months.

Currently, you were in one of your late mother's properties. Your mother had used most of her inheritance to purchase properties around the world and had them rented out–all but the ones in Gotham, like this one. You had known about it from the start, and for about nearly two months you'd been using the Gotham properties to train or research in under the guise of checking them out.

People who knew you were doing so would only assume you were scouting for a den or nest out of the Wayne pack. It was a common practice for the 'elites' to have their private place as soon as they presented, and even without the Waynes being connected to you, you still could pass as one thanks to your mother.

You reloaded the gun in your hand, used a hand mirror to check the corner, then darted down the path once you saw the path was clear. When two opponents suddenly stepped from either side of the intersections, you ducked and took down the one closest to you with a sweeping kick, dodging the other's bullet by the skin of your teeth. You aimed and hit the shooter between the eyes, then turned around and threw your whole weight into the first attacker that had quietly gotten up intending to ambush you.

You shot them as well. As the first attacker fell back with blood spraying from the forehead, a holographic notification appeared before you:

STAGE CLEARED.

Satisfied, you shut down the VR and took off your headset. That wasn't bad at all–you had improved steadily these two months. Hardly enough to take down a real pack yet, moreover to make you feel safe. Oh well, baby steps.

Your faint smile morphed into a frown when you recollected yesterday's event. For once in his life Dick seemed to have meant his latest promise–to help you as an omega. He still didn't fulfill the promise, citing an emergency in Bludhaven, but did thrust a pile of blankets and hoodies soaked with his scent into your arms before leaving.

That was... unexpected. You couldn't afford anything unexpected at this stage.

You slowly tapped a forefinger to your other arm. An 'emergency in Bludhaven' kept Dick away and inadvertently rescued you from being discovered by him. You remembered many more occasions where emergencies kept him in the neighboring city.

Could you maybe, probably, arrange for something to keep him there longer?

me the first time writing Jason's pov: Oh no he's too kind here gotta rewrite

me the second time: ...have I maligned your character, Jason?

Taglist: @randomlyappearingartist @bellethesleepypotato @nirvanaxx1942 @tenswife @galaxypurplerose @shycreatorreview @cupid73 @time-shardz @mikusamsan @simpingpandas @kore-of-the-underworld @elmichi0 @mirabilis-polaris @farsketch @altumsomnum @hai-there-how-are-you @vanessa-boo @ashjade19 @yandere-enthusiast @a-lurking-fae @hyperfixatedcatlover @leeiasure @luckynemi @lowkeyjarrr @lunoorbonoor @deathbynarcisstick @tacendxx @staarflowerr @anonlikesfics @magical-panda2 @whognuthis @arwenyukiamoto @hon3ydewcaram3l @lilyalone @jazzyspaceghost @teabutnerdy @bunbunbread @darktrashpoetry @conqcakes @sleepdeprivedcrappywriter @unrelatedlily @ciatin @ratchetprime211 @mybones537 @anonasatoruu

[obsessivevoidkitten]

You're an autistic biologist that has crashed on a strange planet. A curious male naga approaches as you leave your wrecked ship.

Your universal translator implant is working and you strike up a conversation.

Obsessed naga man flirting: "Wow, you're so small and soft! I would really like to get to know you better~"

You, wanting to satisfy scientific curiousity: "And you seem very large and durable, perfectly adapted to this environment! I am very interested in learning more about you too!"

Your Research Journal: A friendly native seems interested in the exchange of information. I am eager to learn more about this species.

[minimiance]

Ghost who fucks NASTYYYY, he gets so sweaty and he’s licking the tears off your face, licks away sweat on your neck.

NASTY!! Has got you in a tight grip, one arm wrapped around your throat and the other wrapped tight around your waist to move your body against his as he thrusts harshly. Can barely moan because you feel like he’s stealing all the air from your lungs.

Licks your teeth until you open up and let him kiss you. Barely lets you breathe between kisses. When he gets close he just starts to thrust harder. Going as far as to get a foot on the ground for better leverage to pound into you.

Finally cums inside of you, rubbing you until you cum too. Loves the overstimulation of you squeezing around him after he’s painted your insides. Lets out the closest thing he could to a whine from the feeling, pressing his body as tightly against you as he can while he bites into your shoulder.

God he’s so gross and nasty i love him….

[lunareclipse-writes]

Couldn't agree more

having blood on the face will make anyone hot

[hybridsnowflake150]

ꜱᴀᴜᴅᴀᴅᴇ (𝓷𝓸𝓾𝓷) ᵗʰᵉ ˡᵒⁿᵍⁱⁿᵍ ᵗᵒ ᵇᵉ ⁿᵉᵃʳ ˢᵒᵐᵉᵒⁿᵉ ᵒʳ ˢᵒᵐᵉᵗʰⁱⁿᵍ ᵗʰᵃᵗ ⁱˢ ᵈⁱˢᵗᵃⁿᵗ.

Pairing: Jingyuan x trailblazer!reader

Description: He yern for a day were he can have you stay in the flagship instead of traveling from planet to planet, but that would be selfish of him to tell you to stop doing what you love so he hope that one day maybe ,even if it a small chance for it to happen, you’ll change your mind and stay with him forever.

Warning: bad grammar, fluff , small agnst, , love at first sight, mutual pinning.

Divider credit: @uzmacchiato

☆彡.。.:*・☆彡.。.:*・☆彡.。.:*・

“ If you continue sighing like a lovesick fool, I can only hope you finish your report, general” a petite woman with pink hair and pinkish-gold eyes grumble looking at the general who is sat with eyes looking as if they are far away. “ ah, divine Fu didn’t see you there” Jingyuan laugh before giving a sombern look at the gift you have left him before continuing your journey to your next destination.

“ General, I’ll be leaving soon but I didn’t want to leave without a proper goodbye so I got you a bonsai tree as a departing gift, I didn’t know what exactly to give you so I ask Dan heng for help I hope you accept it” you outstretched your arms, bonsai tree in you possession, and smile at Jingyuan before looking at your companion for some guide given that the recipient look surprised and have get to say anything.

Seen this he general chuckle before accepting the gift “ thank you I will cherish this gift forever, my dear friend”

Jingyuan sigh before glancing at the mountain of report he haven’t even touched, daydreaming of the day you’ll come back and give you his gift ; a tassel red in color like his ribbon, lion carved bead at knot and hanging love peas symbolizing his love and longing for you. “ How cruel my dear friend, you came and help the Xiangzhou wanting nothing in return but to help, you keep me companies on lonely nights sharing your wonders of your adventures under the moon with me and listened to me when I try to keep everything hidden” he thought looking at the drawer where he keep the tassel.

“And then we had guard chase us into the contaminated area, we thought we lose them and then BAM they are infront of us and and…oh sorry general you must be tired of me glabbering uh” you stop you exciment not hearing your companion who was probably annoyed at you talking his ear off but instead you saw the look of fondness like he was so amused by the story and not the person telling them only to chuckle when you stop.

“no, no continue I like hearing you voice” that comment made your heart race and cheeks heat up but you continue, happy that you weren’t boring the general ,even thought he will never find you boring, seen you happy talking contently was enough for him. He just hope you didn’t have to leave but that would be selfish of him and he was anything but selfish.

“ I’ll finish the report don’t worry Diviner Fu” He waves at her but they both knew that was a lie, the day the general finish his work in time would be the day the Xiangzhou would be in shambles “Oh I hope so” Fu xuan rolled her eyes before storming of leaving the general to his oneself. Out of the room Fu xuan sigh before looking at the floor contemplating and then with a angry look up to the sky she stomps her way out “ (y/n), I think you affected the general more than you think, I don’t know how you haven’t seen the sign; his longing look, that infuriating smile whenever I bring you up like nothing is getting into his head, coming into one hear and leaving the other and it such a botter when I’m trying to notify him of important things but when I say your name his whole demeanor change and he look like a excited puppy when he hear his favorite word” the guards could only see her retreat, her angry complains in the air as she storm out.

“The general loves you” the sudden declaration made your eyes widen and almost choke on the tea given to you by the diviner in front of you “Miss Fu xuan, I think you got the wrong idea!” you insisted but Fu xuan didn’t believe you. “Yeah right, certainly he doesn’t look at you like your his sun; like he didn’t left everything when your companions said they lost you and can’t find you, didn’t protect you from the wrath of a Lord Ravenger, and oh let not forget he got that idiotic lovesick gaze whenever you are visiting, yeah sure” Fu xuan pointed out and before you can counter she stop you “ and you, I don’t know how you still haven’t found out. Do me a favor and do something already! I can’t take it when that scoundrel of a general only ask me about you” seen Fu xuan stress about it you hided your embarrassment behind the porcelain cup, your heart racing and cheeck warm.

Inside the room Jingyuan could hear the muffled voice from Fuxuan before silence fill the air.“ In such a short time you have manage to weasel yourself into my heart and yet you hold it in such tender embrace. I wish you could stay here with me but that shine in your eyes, when you recount your adventure with your companion is something I don’t want to extinguish so I’ll let you be free and when you want, you can return to me ; Xiangzhou will always welcome you, my dearest friend”

“what do you think about settling in a place my dearest friend?” Jingyuan asks you looking at the moon but he didn’t hearded an answer; instead he felted something on his shoulder, turning what he could without disturbing it, he found you have fallen asleep on his shoulder and didn’t heard anything. He just chuckled before raising the cover so you wouldn’t be cold. “ rest my dearest” he whisper, combing your hair and smile knowing that no matter if you decline and said that it wasn’t for you to settled, he will still wait for you if you change your mind.

Far away from the flagship, a train drift in the open expansion of the uuniverse and inside a room there were three trailblazer discussing or more like two embarrassing their companion. “Oh my god! How could you not notice, the general does really like you!” taking you by the shoulders March shakes you and you can only whine “stop it!” you face was burning up, it took a lot of self talking to yourselft so you could gift the bonsai tree, luckily you didn’t let go of it because of your clammy hands. March finally stop shaking you but what your raccon companion said only made you cover your face with a pillow out of embarrassment “ and the way he respond, I’ll cherish this gift my dear friend, with that soft look in his eyes and you said it ,dashing smile, If that is not a clue then I don’t know what is” Stella insinuated wiggling her eyebrow and a smirk on her face “stop it both of you! Out! Out!” both of them giggle; before you can even throw them a pillow like last time ,leaving the room, their laughter and chatter of your embarrassment still heared behind the door before silence is all you heard.

“My god, he really does have a killer smile” you look up from your pillow before trying to fan the heat in your cheeks.

☆彡.。.:*・☆彡.。.:*・☆彡.。.:*・

A/n: little thing about me, I started playing hsr because of Jingyuan and when there are cutscene of him I feel like I'm melting cus UAJAHSVVSJKKA it makes me smile stupid when he's on screen.

[serenity--writes]

Healing is a process | Peter Parker x Reader

After the symbiote, after Venom, Peter struggles to curb the tides of his guilt. It threatens to overtake him, but you're there despite it all. Despite what he did. //2.9k words. Unedited. GN! Reader. Set after the second Spider-Man game. So, spoilers! Be warned! PTSD and hurt/comfort incoming!

Peter breathes out, shaky and wrecked. He stares at your sleeping form like you hold all the answers. He wants to reach out and hold you, wants you to hold him, but the prickle of his spidey-sense keeps him rooted in place. 

You’ll hurt them. Like last time.

Like clock-work, Peter’s eyes dart to the bruises lining your back, and your hips, just barely resisting the urge to claw at himself. His memory of the symbiote, the oily slide against his skin, viscous and leeching, has him gasping silent pleas into the air. He doesn’t want to hurt anyone, not Miles, MJ, or you. God, never you.

He had, might still. Connors said the symbiote still lives inside him, in some capacity. He’s so fucking scared. The whispers of them all warp his thoughts, taint them until they’re something awful, like intrusive thoughts on steroids. 

Despite just waking up, Peter’s exhausted, drained. His web shooters dig into his wrists, and he wants so desperately to rip them off like he promised you and Miles (‘a small break to get my life in order,’ he’d said, laughing), but he feels naked without them. What if you were in danger, and he couldn’t—

He doesn’t feel himself crying until your touch, gentle and kind and concerned, sends him reeling away and onto the ceiling. His skin prickles, and if he wasn’t sure Miles’ mutation was solely his own, Peter would have thought he’d gained his venom powers, too. His tears drop onto the sheets below, and his heart drops at your expression.

“I-I’m sorry—”

Your face, dotted with sympathy he doesn’t deserve, falls. “It’s okay, Pete. I didn’t mean to scare you.” His heart beats furiously behind his ribs. “Do you think you can come down?”

He shakes his head mutely. With his spidey-sense going haywire, there was no chance in hell he’d be leaving. Every nerve in his body has lit up, and he’s essentially stuck in place until he calms down. The odd voice in the back of his head wants to web you up and keep you secluded in the corner of the room, where you’d be safe and—

Harry, sitting across from you at May’s dining table. The uncomfortable, tense set of your shoulders. Harry’s nonchalant entrapment of you. ‘We are VENOM!’ 

No. You wouldn’t be safe here. You aren’t safe here, with him. Harry… No, Venom proved that.

You smile at him. Clever, beautiful, lovely you. Peter’s breath hitches as a ragged sob escapes his throat and flees into the open air of your shared bedroom, May’s old bedroom. He wants to collapse into you and breathe in the comforting smell of your shampoo, wants to bask in your love that he doesn’t deserve.

Peter remembers everything about what happened that day—the day you transformed into Scream and he had to… had to fight you. The evidence paints your skin blue, purple, red. He tried webbing you up at first, but his webs couldn’t hold you for long. 

He tried. Never did he want to hurt you. Even when he was overtaken by the symbiote, he fought back against the hive mind, against the urge to get you out of the way. His own bruises faded a few hours later, but you… You weren’t so lucky. He catches you limping at night, grimacing as you twist the wrong way. Despite your assurances that you’re just sore, despite your forgiveness, Peter can’t bring himself to touch you for too long, or at all.

It’s been weeks since the two of you have done more than hold hands, but unlike the teenage chastity of his youth, when he was too shy to so much as look at your lips without feeling like a pervert, this was fueled by the overwhelming thoughts you’ll hurt them, you’ll hurt them, you’ll hurt them—

“Peter!” The sound of his name propels him into the present. He gapes at you, your face inches away from his own. He doesn’t remember coming down. “Peter, you need to breathe. Okay, honey? Breathe with me.” 

He stutters, trying to find something to say, anything, but all that comes out is another rasping cry of your name, butchered to hell and back. To you, it sounds like nonsense, but you shush him anyway, exaggerating your breathing as you guide him through the breathing exercises.

Inhale, exhale. Inhale, exhale. 

When he calms, you’re there, and his spidey-sense is finally, blessedly silent. Peter burrows into the crux of your neck and whispers apologies into the damp, tear-stained skin.

—

The morning after, Peter wakes up to breakfast in bed, a cup of orange juice sitting enticingly on his bedside table. You’re nowhere to be found, but he can hear you idling about downstairs, and his sense doesn’t so much as tremble, so he relaxes. 

He loves your cooking. It might not always taste the greatest—his own cooking skills are dubious at best, so he’s not judging—but the love you pour into it has him craving more all the same. Eating your slightly burnt pancakes has his cheeks aching with the force of his smile.

Peter feels normal. And that’s a novel feeling. 

He finishes up his breakfast and takes a tentative step out of the bedroom, feeling like he’d be intruding on something, but all that greets him is the small hum of your voice as you sing along to the songs playing from May’s ancient radio. That was one momento he couldn’t bear to donate, but he couldn’t bear to play anything on it, either, too many memories he had of it, of May and Ben, that it hurt to even look at.

Listening to it now, the subtle crack to the acoustics that used to have May frowning like it owed her lunch money, and to you, has Peter nodding along with a smile. Not even the messiness of the house can dampen his mood, which is a feat in and of itself. He leans against the wall and watches you dance, an awkward little shuffle that has him weak in the knees, eyes crinkling with warmth.

You continue on for a few moments, until the song changes and you’re storming over to it, pouting. You press the back button, but the radio isn’t the same as Spotify, so it doesn’t do anything other than supply disappointment. Rocking back on your heels, you sigh, and it’s so performatively despondent that it has Peter laughing. 

Like the crack of a whip, the sound has you whirling around. You raise a brow, but there’s amusement in your eyes, sharing in his joy despite not knowing what caused it. The two of you have always been in sync like that, two sides of the same coin, yin and yang.

…And you’re both just as dramatic as the other, obviously. I mean, who chooses the name Spider-Man and isn’t a pseudo-theatre kid? May always told him, with a fond curl of her lips, that Ben rubbed off on him. She wasn’t wrong. He wears spandex for a superhero costume, for God’s sake.

“Making fun of my dance moves, I see.”

“Dance moves? I thought you were performing the steps to a demon-summoning ritual.”

You roll your eyes and take his plate from him, dumping the cheap plastic into the sink. You take care not to touch his skin, like he’s still the fragile, caged animal from last night. The concern in your movements has his skin tingling. He wants nothing more than to sweep you off your feet and kiss you breathless. “I assume you can dance much better, with those fighting words.”

“Well, we can certainly find out.”

Not even you want to watch his abysmal dance moves, fortunately, for you only wrinkle your nose at him. 

A few moments pass by, with you wringing your hands together. Peter waits, unsure, because last night was a lot for him, obviously, but he knows it took a toll on you, too. You peer at him like he’s a moment away from fleeing your presence, before pressing a small, fleeting kiss to his cheek. 

The pillowy-soft cushion of your lips has his toes curling. “Morning, Pete.”

“Morning,” Peter whispers, leaning down to capture your lips in a proper kiss. You taste like syrup and raspberries, like apple juice and sunshine, and he loses himself in you, heat pooling underneath his skin. He chases your lips when you pull away, unsure of how much time has passed, but you’re panting, chest heaving like you’d just run a marathon, and he realizes that he’d literally stolen the breath from your lungs.

You lean against him as you catch your breath, and he accepts you eagerly, wrapping strong arms around your form like that was their sole purpose. When you look at him, he meets your gaze steadily. “Last night… Thank you. I really needed—” He gestures at you, and you grin, knowing.

“I’m always here for you, you know that. Always. No matter what happens, Pete.”

Peter cups your cheek, feeling like he’s about to lose his mind, too far gone to realize that there’s not much closer to you he can get. He tries, anyway. “I love you.”

You answer against his lips, the words kept between the two of you, intimate and full of endearment. “I love you, too.”

—

“So,” Peter starts, then stops, cracking his knuckles—a nervous tick, something he thought he’d gotten over years ago. He knows what he wants to say, but not how. The dining room has rarely seemed so intimidating, but here we are. “Therapy. I’ve been thinking, and I think I should, uhm, go.”

You blink, startled. “Oh, that’s…” You pause. Peter’s face must do something, because you scramble for the rest of your words. Anxiety has his spidey-sense rumbling at the back of his neck. Leave, get out, go! It takes all his strength not to jump onto the ceiling. “Great! Pete, that’s amazing. Really. Do you have someone in mind, or…?”

Relief sweeps over him like a calm wave. Of course you wouldn’t judge him for this, he’s just an overthinker, that’s all. His senses dial back from eleven, and his shoulders relax, no longer up to his ears. “No, I, uhm, wanted to talk to you first, I guess. I don’t,” he laughs shakily, “I don’t know what I’m doing.”

“We can look online. Or call your primary—” You pause, and he winces. “Let me guess, you haven’t been to the doctor in over a decade.”

Peter gives you a pitiful thumbs up, and you snort. “That’s fine, we can work with this. You’re not completely unsalvageable, Mr. Parker.”

“Unlike dinner,” he retorts, equally as teasing. The banter is effortless compared to navigating his feelings, even though it feels wrong to avoid it. You’re his safe place, so why is he hiding? Guilt. “How did you burn the entire bag of scallops? Didn’t you tell me that you wanted to be a chef when you were younger? What would kid-you even say?”

“‘Die a disgrace,’” you recite immediately. Your signature, edgy catchphrase of your Tumblr days was practically engraved on your soul. Peter has yet to let you live it down. He was a nerd, but you were worse.

Peter says that with all the love in the universe, of course.

You pull up a medical website on your phone and hand him the phone. He grabs it and glances at the results, biting his lip. Softening, you rub your knuckles against his skin, a comforting weight. “You don’t have to decide now, but take a look, see if any of them catch your eye. We still have to figure out your paperwork, so you’ve got time.”

He sends you a grateful look, and you wink at him in response. “While you do that, I’m going to get started picking up the living room. If you need anything, just walk, like, three steps.”

“Mh, thanks. Love you.” He pecks your lips before you walk away, and you reciprocate with a peck of your own, a competition you’ve both kept alive for years now. The affection is easy when the sun is up, the light chasing away the guilt and the dark, slimy skin of the symbiote.

“Join us, Peter. We can Heal the World together.”

—

The restless nights don’t end even when he starts therapy. 

Peter doesn’t know what he expected to come out of it, but he’s disappointed regardless. It’s statistically unrealistic for a couple of therapy appointments to magically ‘fix’ all of his problems—he’s not an idiot—but he thought it’d help. 

So far, all it’s done is leave him emotionally drained and make him want to cry.

And he does, once, after they talk about May, and how he had to choose between her or the many other sick people at F.E.A.S.T. Beyond it, too. Statistically, his choice was the right one. And morally, it was, too. But personally, it feels… It feels like he made the wrong decision. 

He sits in front of Ben and May, and cries his heart out. He’s a little boy all over again, snot dripping from his nose like he’d tripped and fallen into the dirt, scraped knees and all. He’s mindlessly apologizing because he failed both of them.

First Ben, to the mugger he didn’t so much as raise a hand against. 

Then May, who he watched die from a sickness that he could have prevented. 

Peter was too blind to see Octavius for what he had become, too idealistic to realize that he couldn’t ‘fix’ the man, or ‘revert’ him back to what he was. The chip had changed him, altered him, sure, but the hatred in his eyes, the look Peter's seen reflected in those he’d put into the RAFT, was all Otto. 

After he’d gotten home, tears staining his cheeks and mud smeared across the denim of his jeans, you had taken one look at Peter before rushing forward and pulling him into a hug. You didn’t ask any questions, just held him, and he clung to you like you were a tether to the present. Without you, he’d slip away and fade into something less than human. 

He finds refuge in your arms when the nightmares get too much, when May starts fading from his memory and he has to look at pictures to remember how her hair swept to the right, not the left. When Harry’s face melds with the symbiote, and they become Venom, you hold him as he scrambles for his web shooters, whispering words that should be comforting but instead go unnoticed as Peter flails around in your arms. 

Those nights scare him the most, because it’s the closest he comes to hurting you after… After. The bruises on your skin are healing, purples and blues and reds fading into yellows and browns. If he adds more, he doesn’t know what he’ll do. 

You try your best, but the constant vigilance is wearing you down. Peter can tell. Your smile isn’t as bright, and your shoulders hunch in on themselves when Peter climbs into bed, and oh, if he hadn’t felt guilty before, he sure would be now. As it stands, there’s scarcely a moment where he's guilt-free. 

His therapist wanted him to work on that with them, next session. They’d left him with the parting words, “You take too much on your shoulders and hardly allow anyone else to help with the weight. Even the strongest people falter, Peter. Sometimes, the only thing we can do is ask for help so we can stand up again.”

So, he’s trying. 

Peter thinks, privately, that he’s already done that step—with Miles taking over as the primary Spider-Man (for now, because Peter doesn’t think he could let Spider-Man go even if he wanted to), he’s gotten a load off his shoulders already. 

What convinces him otherwise is you. 

You don’t say anything about it, not really, but it’s your actions that have him rethinking everything. You’re the reason he’s going to therapy, after all, and you’ve never done anything by halves—figures you’d be changing his world’s view even unintentionally.

It’s the way you notice him struggling and help without a second thought. The way you hold him and shush him as he cries, hands carding through his hair. You’re helping him more than he’s ever helped you (he hurt you), but he can’t keep piling the weight of his anxiety, guilt, and self-hatred on your shoulders. 

If he had his way, you wouldn’t go a day without smiling. But nowadays, you hardly smile at all.

He needs help, and he’s getting help, but he needs to help himself, too. 

Despite feeling a bit silly, he proposes a spa-day for the two of you. At home, obviously, because this is self-care, not self-harm (his bank account is bleak, even without Spider-Man to intervene). You’re shocked, but the look melts into an excited grin as you chatter on about what you’ll do, what you’ll have to buy, and the sight of you happy and laughing has the weights dragging him down breaking away.

Peter feels like he’s swinging through the city, near weightless at the height of his arc, but unlike when he’s wearing the mask, the air brushes along his cheeks, through his hair. He feels free, like he could do anything with you by his side.

Healing isn't a short, easy process. In fact, it’s pretty much the opposite. Baby steps, right?

But Peter’s getting there, even if it’ll take a while. And he knows you’ll be there, right beside him.

He thinks May and Ben would be happy for him. No, he knows they would be. 

[springtimeishere]

OKAY THAT HAD A LITTLE KICK TO IT AT THE END.

I just wanted to say that Dorian's comment and the reaction of us, the reader, hit hard. I did have to stop reading to quietly shed a few tears— which usually fics would only get one stray tear, but this one really got to me..

Just solidifies how good this fic is and captivated me to continue reading and await patiently for the next chapter.

MAYBE ITS ME?… | Date Everything x gn!reader

Summary: You aren’t sure why but almost every dateable hates you and you’re starting to wonder if you’re the problem.

Warning: I’m a little sad due to my seasonal depression so you get this! Angst, social anxiety, socially awkward, very self deprecating Doug is working over time. Not edited.

PART TWO | MASTERLIST | READ ME

It’s driving you and all the objects in your home up the wall. You aren’t sure why but almost everyone hates you.

Everyone from Lux, and Rebel to Rainey, Betty, Dunk, Hoove, Kopi, Keyes, hell even Celia can’t look you in the eye due to the overwhelming complaints she’s been getting!

The nail in the coffin was getting thrown out of the Breaker Box club, you still can feel the shock in your arm when Volt grabbed you out the door. You were shaking and starring wide eyed at the breaker closet that Doug surely would’ve appeared if Reggie didn’t.

You couldn’t hear him, lost in your own thoughts when you cut off his passive aggressive pity party for you by…taking the dateviators off.

It still had charge left but you felt so tired. You don’t know what you were doing wrong, maybe you came off too strong or said something that was hurtful despite you just trying to fit in. Similar to what Tony said in his workshops.

Changed to fit what you thought they’d want in love or even friendship. Though, it doesn’t matter now cause almost all of your household objects hate your guts.

You curled in your spot, head tucked in your knees with your eyes peering over to stare at the glasses you held by the frame with your pointer and thumb tipping it up and down.

Maybe the hacker guy that gave you these would take them back, or maybe you can return them to David without getting accused and arrested by the government?

You just know one thing…

You don’t want to put them back on.

You tried to got back to your mundane life before realizing that everything around you is alive. But it started to make you paranoid and self conscious. Like you couldn’t live in your comfort space anymore.

You swore to Sam that the water was hot one second then cold then hot again, the coffee didn’t taste as good, you tripping on air, zapping yourself when you plugged a charger in, the food going spoiled even though you got it a day ago, the piano playing loud keys randomly, your white clothes getting stained right out of the wash, and now your comfort blanket wasn’t feeling so comforting.

You’ve had it.

One night you were laidback on the now springy uncomfortable bed, venting to Sam about how you need to get out of the house—she offered you her place for the time being. Understanding about your weird struggling relationships.

However. Out of all the people you’ve made hate you, one still remained the same throughout it all and never inconvenienced you.

Dorian. His friendship status didn’t waver at any moment of your—very fast—conversations. He found you rather interesting…respectable. When you met the firt time with Skylar he knew you’d try to get along with everyone, knew how you’d change yourself even to get everyone to like you. You were kind, thoughtful, and a little pathetic but in a charming way.

Currently, he thinks he needs to initiate the conversation this time.

You were shuffling through Dirk clothes when you heard Sam’s car honk outside. Quickly you stuff your luggage with things you knew weren’t sentient and rushed downstairs and opened the door.

Or well…tried too. Each time you turn the top lock then the bottom it shuts again. With a frustrate groan you knock your head on the front of the door, a hand still on the knob.

“Open, Dorian…” You whisper, you mind reeling in the fact that you might’ve made even Dorian upset with you. You try to open it. You curse loudly when he it doesn’t budge

You turn on your heel, leaving the luggage there as you head to your office, opening the junk drawer Jerry and searching for those fucking glasses. It was in the far back with a little dust on them. You put them on, walking pass Skylar trying to warily greet you and straight to Dorian at the front door.

He’s in his typical pose. Arms folded and chest pushed up with a ‘taking no shits’ expression. It reminds you of a conversation you had with him where you said he’d make a great bodyguard or bouncer if he were human. He had cracked a tiny smile and said that just being a door for this house was enough.

“Dorian-“

“Don’ say nothing. Let me speak.” He says, you tsk and roll you eyes but don’t say anything else.

“I don’ think you running away from your home is a good idea fro-“ You wave a hand stopping him.

“They all hate me”

“Not all-“

“Then they likely will” You voice is stern, but there’s a sadness laced in the words. He doesn’t respond to that letting you rant.

“I’m over feeling like trash in my own damn house. I need to leave, so open!” You yell, you don’t care if you’re being watched by Sam from outside or anyone from the living room.

“It’s dangerous out ther-“

“It’s better than here.” There’s a long pause.

“You’know…” Dorian starts as you’re about to take off the glasses, you glance at him. “If it means an’thing—I think we’re still friends.”

The confession makes you want to sob but you grit your teeth, look ahead at Sam’s vehicle.

“Respectfully, Dorian…I wish I never got these glasses…”

Your words stung but he doesn’t show it. You know being angry with him will likely end the same as it did with everyone else, but he remains still for a moment longer then steps aside. Letting you leave.

You toss the dateviator somewhere and walk away. Dorian closes, staring blankly at the glasses that landed in the middle of the walkway. He ignores the whispering in every room—some confusion, some even cheering

He huffs bitterly, arms still crossed and up against his chest. Dorian is ever in balance and composed, he takes his job serious and to not let any detractions get to him. However, this situation is getting out of hand even for him. He’ll have to get an appointment with Mayor Celia layer, but for now he regains his position and awaits your arrival.

How ever long that would be.

[hyuniemyunie]

Sleeping Together

slashers x gn!reader

sfw

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

(ФωФ): established relationship, cuddling, sleeping next to them.

I LOOOOOOVE BRAHMS. BUT I ALSO LOOOOOVE BUBBA. BUT I ALSO LOOOOOOVE STU. should i do aftercare scenarios?🤔 but after they got fucked/pegged😞🙏 so dom/top reader scenario😞😞 nvm im gonna do it

⠄･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠄･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠄･ ⋆ ･

ᯓ★ Brahms cannot sleep unless you’re touching him in some way. He’s like an overgrown child in that sense—if you try to roll away, he’ll grab onto you immediately, pulling you back with surprising strength.

ᯓ★ Sometimes he keeps his mask on, sometimes he takes it off in the dark when he knows you won’t see. If you try to touch his face, he’ll freeze up for a moment before leaning into your touch.

ᯓ★ He mumbles in his sleep sometimes, little, breathy "stay with me"s or "don’t leave." If you answer back, even just a quiet "I’m here," he’ll calm down instantly.

ᯓ★ Sometimes, he’ll pretend to be asleep just to see if you try to sneak away. If you do? He’ll wake up immediately, whining. "Bad. You’re being bad.."

ᯓ★ He doesn’t sleep much, so you might wake up to find him just watching you. No noise, no movement���just staring. He thinks it’s comforting. (It’s not.)

Brahms is not a quiet sleeper. He breathes heavily, even behind his mask. You learned this on the first night you stayed in the mansion. He watches. Always. Even in the dead of night, even when his arms are wrapped around you, he does not sleep easily.

Tonight is no different.

You stir in bed, feeling the weight of his body pressed up against yours. Brahms clings to you, desperate for comfort, his fingers curling into the fabric of your shirt. His breath, warm and slow, fans against your neck. It should be unsettling—should send shivers down your spine—but it doesn’t.

Instead, you find yourself relaxing into his embrace, despite the feeling of his masked face resting against your shoulder. He lets out a low hum, a noise of contentment, and his grip tightens ever so slightly.

"Don’t move." His voice is thick with drowsiness, but there’s a quiet possessiveness to it.

"I wasn’t planning to," you murmur, shifting just enough to get comfortable.

Brahms lets out a sigh, nuzzling into you like a cat seeking warmth. You wonder if he’s actually asleep or simply pretending, waiting for the moment you slip away. He does that sometimes—tests you.

The old pipes in the house creak, and you feel him tense. His fingers twitch against your side. "Stay," he whispers again, softer this time, like a plea rather than a command.

You reach up, brushing your fingers over his arm. "I’m here," you reassure him.

And with that, Brahms finally drifts off, chest rising and falling in rhythm with yours, his paranoia momentarily eased by your presence.

ᯓ★ Bubba runs hot. Laying next to him is like sleeping beside a furnace, and if it’s summer? You’re gonna suffer. But in the winter? Absolute heaven.

ᯓ★ Once Bubba’s out, he’s out. Thunderstorms, screaming victims, even Drayton yelling? Nothing wakes him up unless you shake him really hard.

ᯓ★ He has nightmares a lot. Some nights, you’ll hear him whimpering, and if you rub his back or whisper his name, he’ll calm down instantly, snuggling closer.

ᯓ★ He doesn’t mean to, but in his sleep, he’ll just… roll on top of you. And given that he’s built like a truck? Yeah. RIP you.

ᯓ★ Bubba holds onto you with pure affection. He’s like a giant, overly attached teddy bear.

Bubba sleeps like a rock. A very warm, very heavy rock.

The moment you settle into bed with him, it’s like being trapped under a weighted blanket made entirely of muscle. Bubba curls himself around you, practically cocooning you with his sheer size. His body radiates warmth like a furnace, and while it’s comforting, it also means you’re at risk of overheating within minutes. ESPECIALLY in a place like texas.

His head rests against your shoulder, the sound of his soft, occasional pig-like snorts filling the room. Every so often, he lets out a little grunt in his sleep, twitching as if chasing something in a dream.

You shift slightly, trying to peel yourself away just a little so you don’t combust. But the moment you move, Bubba lets out a distressed whimper, his thick arms pulling you back in an instant.

"No, no, I’m not leaving," you whisper, gently patting his arm. "Just getting comfy, big guy."

Bubba responds with a content sigh, nuzzling into your hair. His fingers twitch against your side, gripping onto the fabric of your shirt as if afraid you’ll disappear in the night.

And so, you let him hold you, even if it means waking up drenched in sweat.

ᯓ★ Unlike Brahms’ creepy staring or Bubba’s snorting, Thomas is eerily silent when he sleeps. If not for the steady rise and fall of his chest, you’d think he wasn’t breathing.

ᯓ★ The slightest noise will wake him up. He’s used to being on high alert, and if you move too much, he’ll stir immediately.

ᯓ★ He’s not naturally affectionate in his sleep, but if you lean into him? His arm will instinctively come around you, pulling you close.

ᯓ★ Even while unconscious, his body is positioned between you and the door, keeping you safe.

ᯓ★ He may be a massive, intimidating man, but when he’s resting? His grip is surprisingly gentle. His hand will rest on your side or your back, just to make sure you’re there.

Thomas is the definition of a silent sleeper. If not for the steady rise and fall of his chest, you’d worry he wasn’t breathing at all.

Thomas is more… reserved. He doesn’t wrap himself around you completely, but his presence is felt—a heavy, solid weight beside you, protective even in rest.

You shift slightly, rolling onto your side to face him. Even in the darkness, you can see the faint outline of his face—his strong jaw, the scarred skin, the way his lips are slightly parted as he breathes in deep, steady intervals.

Carefully, you reach up, brushing your fingers over the back of his hand.

His reaction is almost immediate. His grip tightens ever so slightly. You whisper his name, just to see if he’s awake. He doesn’t respond, but the faintest twitch of his fingers against your side tells you that he hears you.

And with that thought, you close your eyes, resting against him, knowing that no harm will come to you so long as he is by your side.

ᯓ★ His breathing is deep and slow, a steady, soothing rhythm that lulls you to sleep. Sometimes, if you listen closely, you’ll hear him let out soft, almost content sighs.

ᯓ★ Jason doesn’t sleep much, but when he does, it’s light. The smallest noise will have him waking up, ready to defend you from whatever danger he thinks is lurking.

ᯓ★ He sleeps with an arm around you, keeping you close. If you try to move away, even in sleep, his grip will tighten automatically. If you somehow manage to roll out of bed, he will gently pick you up and place you back like it’s nothing.

ᯓ★ If he ever catches you watching him sleep, he’ll get weirdly flustered, shifting slightly like he doesn’t know what to do with himself.

The camp is silent at night, save for the distant chirp of crickets and the occasional rustling of the trees. You’re nestled against Jason’s broad chest, his warmth keeping the night chill at bay. He doesn’t need sleep the way you do—whatever supernatural force keeps him alive seems to have erased the human need for rest—but he still lays beside you.

Your fingers rest against his chest, tracing slow, absent-minded patterns over the worn fabric of his shirt. His breathing is deep and even, but you can tell he’s still awake.

"You don’t have to stay up, you know," you murmur, shifting slightly to look up at him.

Jason doesn’t respond with words—he never does—but his arm tightens around you, fingers flexing against your back. It’s his silent way of saying, I want to.

You exhale softly, nuzzling against him, pressing your forehead to the cool metal of his mask. He still wears it, even here, even now. Maybe he’s afraid. Afraid you’ll see him—truly see him—and decide you no longer want to be here.

So you do the only thing you can. You press a gentle kiss against the mask, just over where his cheekbone would be.

Jason stiffens, his entire body going still. Then, after a long pause, he exhales a slow, shuddering breath. His fingers twitch against your side before he pulls you even closer, tucking you beneath his chin like something precious.

And in that moment, despite the horrors of the world, you’ve never felt safer.

ᯓ★ Michael is used to watching people sleep, not actually doing it himself. He doesn’t need much rest, but when he does sleep, it’s eerily still—no tossing, no turning, just pure silence.

ᯓ★ If he wakes up before you (which he always does), he just… watches you. If you wake up to find him staring, good luck falling back asleep.

ᯓ★ Michael isn’t really affectionate, but if you lean into him or drape an arm over him, he won’t push you away. Instead, he’ll slowly adjust, letting you stay there.

ᯓ★ Even in deep sleep, if you get up to leave, he’ll wake up instantly. No words, just a heavy hand grabbing your wrist and pulling you back down.

ᯓ★ No pillows for you. He is your pillow. No exceptions.

Michael doesn’t sleep. Not in the way normal people do. Tonight, like every night, you wake to find him watching you.

His head is tilted slightly, the dim glow of the moonlight casting shadows across his mask. He’s barely inches away, sitting on the edge of the bed, just staring.

You sigh, rubbing at your tired eyes. "Michael, you’re supposed to be resting."

No response. He just keeps watching, the dark voids of his eye holes locked onto you.

You groan, reaching out blindly, fingers curling around his wrist. You expect him to pull away—Michael isn’t exactly fond of touch—but instead, he lets you guide him down. Lets you pull him into the bed beside you.

"Lay down," you tell him softly. "Just for a little while."

He obeys without protest, stretching out beside you. His body is tense, like he’s unsure how to relax. You move closer, resting a hand on his chest, feeling the slow, steady rhythm of his breathing beneath your fingertips.

After a long, long moment, he finally reacts. His arm moves—not to strangle, not to harm, but to rest against your side, hesitant but firm.

It’s the closest thing to an embrace you’re going to get.

And it’s enough.

ᯓ★ Years of surviving in the mines have left Harry with a deeply ingrained sense of paranoia. Even when he sleeps, his muscles stay coiled, like he’s always expecting an attack.

ᯓ★ Some nights, he’ll suddenly jerk awake, breath ragged and hands clenched. If you soothe him—whisper his name, rub his back—he’ll calm down quickly, grounding himself in your presence.

ᯓ★ Harry will drape his arm over you, and there’s no escaping it. He doesn’t even realize how heavy he is, but at least he’s warm.

ᯓ★ If you can’t sleep and shift restlessly, he’ll reach out—without opening his eyes—and rest a hand on your hip, rubbing slow, absent-minded circles to lull you back to sleep.

The scent of coal and metal clings to him, even in sleep. It’s ingrained into his skin, his clothes, the very air around him. You don’t mind. It’s comforting in its own strange way—earthy, familiar, him.

Harry sleeps still and silent, body coiled with tension even in rest. His arm is thrown over you, holding you close, a subconscious need to keep you safe.

You shift slightly, tilting your head to press a soft kiss to his collarbone. "Relax, Harry," you whisper against his skin. "You’re not in the mines anymore."

His breathing hitches for just a second before he exhales, body sinking just a little deeper into the mattress. He doesn’t respond—not with words, at least—but his grip on you tightens ever so slightly.

You know what it means.

You’re the only thing in this world that makes him feel human. The only thing that keeps the nightmares of gas leaks and cave-ins at bay.

And as long as you’re here, he’ll never let you go.

ᯓ★ Some nights, he sleeps curled up like a cat. Other nights, he sprawls out like a starfish, trapping you under an arm or a leg.

ᯓ★ His curls are soft but everywhere. If you sleep facing him, expect a mouthful of hair at some point.

ᯓ★ Loves touch but won’t ask for it. Vincent won’t initiate cuddling often, but if you reach for him? He’ll melt into your touch instantly.

ᯓ★ If you’re sleeping back-to-back, he’ll slowly shift closer until you’re touching. If you’re apart, he’ll move a hand toward yours, just close enough that your fingers brush.

ᯓ★ When he thinks you’re asleep, he buries his face against your neck or hair, inhaling deeply like he’s memorizing your presence. It’s both sweet and a little creepy.

ᯓ★ If you ever fall asleep working on something, he’ll carry you to bed and wrap around you like a koala.

He sleeps curled around you, his body fitting against yours like he was meant to be here. His hair is soft against your cheek, his breathing slow and steady.

You run a hand through his curls, untangling them gently with your fingers, making q soft hum rumble in his chest

"You’re warm," you murmur, lips ghosting over the top of his head.

Vincent shifts, burying his face against your neck. His arm tightens around you, fingers curling into the fabric of your shirt. You sigh, wrapping your arms around him in return, letting him hold you as tightly as he needs.

In the daylight, Vincent is silent, a ghost among the living, hands stained with wax and sin.

But here, in the quiet of the night, he is yours.

ᯓ★ Billy? Light sleeper. The smallest noise wakes him up, especially if it sounds off. If you roll away from him, expect to be yanked back within seconds.

ᯓ★ Stu? Sleeps like a damn rock. He can snore through a chainsaw massacre and not flinch. You could literally sit on him, and he’d just groan and roll over.

ᯓ★ Billy does not like admitting he’s a cuddler, but he is. He needs to have a hand on you—hip, stomach, thigh, doesn’t matter—just to know you’re there.

ᯓ★ Stu, on the other hand, is needy and will completely engulf you. He sleeps like an octopus, limbs everywhere, sometimes even throwing a leg over you so you physically can’t escape.

ᯓ★ Billy runs hot—he’s like a damn heater, which is great in the winter but suffocating in the summer.

ᯓ★ Stu runs cold and will shove his freezing hands under your shirt just to hear you scream.

ᯓ★ Billy sometimes keeps his mask nearby, almost like a security blanket. If he falls asleep before taking it off, you might wake up to him still wearing it.

ᯓ★ Stu? Nah, he flings that thing across the room and immediately collapses on top of you.

ᯓ★ Stu mumbles the weirdest shit in his sleep. Sometimes it’s a movie quote, sometimes it’s nonsense like "Dude… cows are just meat puppies…"

ᯓ★ Billy rarely talks in his sleep, but when he does, it’s always your name. Always.

The room is dim, the flickering neon light from the parking lot outside casting shadows across the ceiling. The bed is too small—way too small for three people—but that hasn’t stopped Stu from sprawling across it like a damn starfish, his arm thrown haphazardly over your waist.

On your other side, Billy is awake. You know he is. He’s too still, too aware. His arm is draped possessively over your stomach, fingers idly tracing circles against the fabric of your shirt.

"You’re awake," you murmur sleepily, tilting your head just slightly toward him.

Billy doesn’t respond—not with words. Instead, his fingers tighten against your side, pulling you just a little closer.

"You guys are so clingy," you tease, voice drowsy.

"Pfft—says you," Stu mumbles against the pillow, his breath warm against your shoulder. His voice is thick with sleep, but that doesn’t stop him from blindly groping around until he finds your arm, flopping his own over it in an attempt to keep you pinned. "Ain’t going anywhere, babe. You’re trapped."

Billy huffs, a soft almost-laugh, but you can feel the tension lingering in his shoulders. He still hasn’t let go.

You reach up, brushing your fingers against his wrist, grounding him. "I’m right here, Billy."

His breath stutters just for a second. Then, slowly, finally, he exhales. His grip on you doesn’t loosen, but his body relaxes just a fraction.

Stu, half-asleep, suddenly nuzzles against the crook of your neck. "We make the best blanket, huh? Two-for-one deal."

"More like a human straitjacket," you mumble, trapped between Billy’s intense grip and Stu’s dead weight.

Neither of them responds. Stu has already drifted back into sleep, and Billy, still silent, just pulls you even closer.

You sigh, but there’s a warmth in your chest—something safe, something real.

And in this moment, with two killers wrapped around you like you’re the most important thing in the world, you know you’re never getting a peaceful night’s sleep again.

But honestly?

You wouldn’t have it any other way.

[blood-smiles]

𝐉𝐞𝐚𝐥𝐨𝐮𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐃𝐄𝐀𝐓𝐇. 🩸⚔️

YANDERE! SOLDIER X GN READER MAMA.. A YANDERE BEHIND YOU 💜

[strzxrin]

PRETTY OLD MAN

pairing. yandere!dilf x gn!reader

synopsis. you needed a job during your semester break. you didn’t think you’d have an affinity with kids, but it seems that the kid next door needed a new babysitter and you were free for an entire two month period.

content warnings. 18+, filthy fantasies, legal age-gap, yandere tendencies, reader is assumed to be 23, obessesive behaviours, masturbation, underwear stealing.

word count. 3.3k

your eyes closed for just a moment, relaxing on the comfort of your bed. having to finally rest after the endless assignments and back to back examinations; you were free.

you could sleep in as much as you want and you didn’t have to worry about attending lectures for the next two months. everything was going great, until your stomach grumbled.

“shush. m’too tired to move” you’d argue with your stomach, but alas, it had a mind of its own.

and you felt the hunger.

you opened your eyes, tired of your stomach throwing a fit and haphazardly got out of bed, heading towards the kitchen and fridge only to find that you didn’t have groceries to even cook anything.

“right…” it was depression meals. your last semester just had to be your worst since all you spent on were on instant noodles and prayed it was enough to power through the day.

but as you opened the drawer, your source of food — which was purely made of preservatives — is finished. you stress ate last night, it was your final exam and it was the subject you were most worried about too, so you can’t necessarily beat yourself up for this . . . nope. you were a little bit of an idiot on finishing up for stock.

“damn it” you grumbled to yourself, opening the fridge once more in hopes that your parents home cooked meals would appear right in front of your eyes, but alas it didn’t. only some eggs are left in the fridge.

“scrambled it is,” you resigned to your fate. maybe you could find some bread somewhere for carbs, but for now, eggs will do. to satiate the hunger at least.

once you finished up your truly pathetic meal, you knew you had to do groceries at least. so you made a list, and you checked your money, it should be enough, shouldn’t it?

at least that’s what you prayed for when you went to the grocer. “holy fucking shit. almost 10 bucks for eggs? what the hell is wrong with the inflation” you whined to yourself mostly. change of plans, you need to get limited ingredients and a job.

you went back to your apartment, the grocery bag in your hands as you had to double check on the receipt because it mentally pained you having to see the total price to feed a singular person for a month.

you looked up to see the elevator door is closing, which made you rush in hopes you’ll get there in time and you did. because a man held it open for you. “thank you,” you murmured softly, giving him a smile and then looking at the buttons, seeing that you both share the same floor unit.

“you’re so pretty!” you hear a little girl’s voice and you blinked, looking down to see a girl, maybe the age of four, staring up at you with big doe eyes.

“that’s so sweet of you, sweetheart. thank you! you’re very pretty as well” you tell her gently as she giggled happily and tugged onto her father’s pants; the man who held the elevator for you.

“papa! they called me pretty” she says as her father smiles gently and picks her up, carrying her in his arms. “tell them thank you, kia,” she turned her head and gave you a bright smile, saying thank you as you had to internally coo at how cute she is.

the elevator rings, telling the three of you that you arrived at your floor, and you all went out. you were about to say goodbye to the little girl since it would’ve meant you splitting up from the father-daughter pair, but turns out fate had different plans.

you were heading in the same direction as them. it was awkward because you didn’t want to seem like a stalker but coincidentally, you were their next door neighbour. you blinked at this information and smiled sheepishly.

“it seems like we’re neighbours” you murmured, but the girl only smiled excitedly “yay! we’re neighbours with a pretty person!” her father just sighs before looking at you.

now that you actually took a good look at him, he’s . . . so fucking hot? how the hell did the universe decided to make a grown man, a dad, this good looking? you could swear that if you ever saw a picture of him when he’s your age, it wouldn’t beat the visuals you see now.

“i’m ian miller, and you are?” you snapped out of your thoughts and blinked before giving him a lopsided smile. “( name )… nice to finally meet my neighbour” you felt a bit awkward. after all, you’ve been here for three years yet you’ve never seen them.

then again, you’d leave your apartment only for lectures and you’d come back at night. so you don’t really see anyone that often. “the same goes here. i hope to see you around again. it seems that kia certainly likes you,” he chuckled.

well fuck your ass, you never thought you could get shivers down your spine at the sound of someone’s laughter, at the sound of a man who is most likely twice your age with a daughter to boot. you let out a sheepish laugh and nodded “i see… w-well, i’ll. uhm, go in now”

did you just stutter? you were doomed. you went into your pocket and found your keys before taking one last glance at them and waved a small goodbye before entering your apartment.

｡ ｡ ｡ ｡ ｡ ｡

the sound of a movie was playing in the background — one of the equestria girls movies — he could assume while he was cooking up dinner for him and his little girl.

but his mind flashes back to what happened a few hours ago. he didn’t think he could finally meet the mystery neighbour that would be up and quietly squealing in the middle of the night. he didn’t think that the giggles he heard from the other side would show a cuter face to accompany it.

he’s heard your voice over the walls for years straight; words about complaining regarding the lecturers to your friends on a call, soft sobs on the deadlines and how you had so much to do but so little time.

and he was smitten from the moment he heard your voice.

he wanted to meet you ever so badly, wanting to know the face behind the angelic voice but it was too difficult.

your outings were sporadic. you had a schedule, and he was able to figure out about it, but then the schedule would change and he wouldn’t know when you’d go out or stay inside.

he wasn’t a free man either. he had a job to do, bills to pay, and a daughter to take care of. but hearing your voice late at night while kia was asleep, is a soothing balm to his tired and overworked soul.

there was guilt at first. he couldn’t be falling for someone who could possibly be younger than he is, maybe even half his age, but seeing you in person? it changed everything in his mind.

his morals were completely shattered when he saw you at the elevator, recognising the voice he would sleep to every night. you were younger than him, sure, and maybe the age difference is a little questionable, but you’re legal.

you are everything he ever dreamed of, and more. he needed to see you more, to hear your voice more, to see your cheeks softly flushing at the sound of his voice— fuck. he cannot be having a hard on while he’s cooking.

he still has his daughter in the room, and he was not to show her a filthy sight of her papa. so he calmed himself down, thought about work and how tiresome it is, and focused on cooking.

when kia was done, she had brushed her teeth and he had carried her to bed. he read her bedtime stories and she would fall asleep, just like clockwork.

he would retreat back to his room and the moment he did, all he could think about it you. your smile, the way your eyes crinkled, the sheepishness you had when interacting with him… he needed you.

he needed you like how his body needs air, how he needs food to sustain himself, how he needs money to pay for him and his daughter. he needs you, entirely, viscerally, wholly. and he will always get what he needs in the end.

from your little talks with your friends, he figured out which university you attended, he figured out who your lecturers were and knew your courses too. it’s just a shame that he couldn’t figure out your class schedule. but he does know your yearly one, and you are now on break.

and it’s a good thing that kia likes you. because then he could have an excuse to have his home smelling like you soon enough. and he cannot wait.

｡ ｡ ｡ ｡ ｡ ｡

it’s been two days since you met your hot neighbour and frankly you can’t get him out of your mind. he is your eye candy, frankly he is your type all in all, but you shouldn’t romanticise a relationship with a man that is twice your age, right?

not only that, he could be married, and you didn’t want to title yourself as a homewrecker either.

regardless, you’ve been in your apartment for two days straight mainly because you didn’t have anything else to do except binge watch your favourite shows that you deprived yourself of during study week.

that was when you hear a knock at the door and you blinked. you didn’t have a package, despite your online shopping tendencies, so who’s at your door? when you opened it, ian was there, standing straight and looking at you with a gentle smile.

“oh! mr.miller, what brings you here?” you looked as if you had just gotten out of bed, and frankly you did. maybe you should’ve showered first and made yourself more presentable for him.

“i would like to make an offer to you, so would it be fine if i come inside?” he asked, and that’s when you noticed little kia peeking from his legs with sleep induced eyes and you almost wanted to coo at how adorable she is.

you nodded and let him enter your humble apartment space. you were just thankful that you spent most of your time in the bedroom, therefore your living room does not look like a rats nest.

he sat down on the sofa, bringing kia into his arms as she fell asleep once more while you sat down across from him. “are you perhaps looking for a job?” you paused, blinking a couple of times before nodding slowly “yes..? i’m on summer break currently and i was just thinking on applying for a job to pay for my groceries and all”

is he offering you a job? what a coincidental timing in all honesty. “you see, kia needs a babysitter. she’s rather picky and she didn’t like our last babysitter. so lately i’ve only been dropping her off at daycare and picking her up afterwards. would it be fine if you take care of her? i’ll pay you a generous amount of course”

a babysitting job? you weren’t entirely sure if you would be able to do so. your mood on kids depends on the time and how they act, but if it’s kia… maybe you’ll be able to do it? you were in deep thought before you looked at him and it was unintentional but a singular question popped up into your mind, about his partner.

he chuckled softly, seeing the question written all over your face. “her mother abandoned us a while back. told me that she doesn’t want to be responsible for her, and gave her to me” oh. now you felt bad for thinking about it. “i see.. alright then, i’ll take the job” you gave him a gentle smile and he smiled back.

“you’ll start tomorrow, if that’s alright with you?” that was too soon but at this point, something within your soul just wanted to be better than her mother, to be another parental figure that she could rely on. “yup, i’ll see you tomorrow then?”

he nodded and carried kia out, you waved your goodbye and closed the door. so you just got a job. great! but you needed to child proof the living room at least, just so that she doesn’t hurt herself or anything.

not only that, you’ll get to see ian again tomorrow, and the days after that. so you found yourself getting excited knowing what comes next.

｡ ｡ ｡ ｡ ｡ ｡

ian had dropped kia off to your place before going to work. he would give you a gentlemanly smile and that would be the end of it, is what he thought.

until he heard you speak up ever so gently “have a good day at work, mr.miller.” he froze at that, looking at you before nodding. “thank you, ( name ). i’ll see you later on”

and he walked, and walked before he entered his car and let out a shaky sigh. that scene replayed in his mind a thousand times, and he felt his cock harden at the sight of you in your flat, dressed up comfortably and carrying kia in your arms.

he’s thankful to himself to be the type on coming to the office early, which meant he had a lot of time to himself in the car. he had to cover his mouth and rubbed himself off, only thinking about you and your smile, the sound of your voice and how perfect it would be to hear you moan out his name.

all he can imagine now is you cooking for kia, seeing her smile at her new parental figure and be comfortable with you. how you would cradle her to sleep and how you’d smile when she’s happy.

and god forbid him, all he wanted to do was to pound you into a sobbing mess, pump his cum deep inside you and watch it leak out of your hole. he wants to see the blissed out gaze, he wants to hear your whimpers, and he wants to hear you beg for more. to have his children, regardless if you were capable of bearing them.

maybe next time when you break into your apartment in the middle of the night he’ll jerk off to the sight of your sleeping face. or he’ll steal one of your used underwear and bring it home to keep for himself.

his hands rubbed faster, thinking about how he could take you anywhere in the house, shoving his fingers into your mouth to keep you quiet so you don’t wake up kia. he thinks about how warm you would be, how you’d squeeze his cock just right and how he’d have to hold himself back from cumming immediately.

“shit— fuck.. ( name )” he groaned out your name, his eyes rolled back as he imagined more scenarios about you. how messy you’ll take him in your mouth, how teary eyed you’d be, at how big he is but he’ll assure you that he can make it fit.

god, he can imagine peppering your face with gentle kisses as he fucks you stupid, drooling, and overstimulated because he is pent up. years of not having sex does a lot to a man, and with such a sweetheart like you who seemed to want to please him? he’s bound to go feral and break.

“fuuuckk” he moaned out, cumming right there in the car as he used a tissue to make sure it doesn’t make a mess. his cock softened with a twitch and he knew he just needed the right timing before he could slip into your warm hole.

he needs you, he needs your scent, he needs to feel you close and hold you in his arms. ian is a patient man, he’ll take his time and seduce you. he’ll make sure that soon, your only thoughts is about him, and how he’d fuck you so well.

he can pay for all of your expenses if he has to, he just wants you in his vicinity, in his home, and your scent filling the entire apartment.

he’ll take his time, but he’ll have you soon enough. because he’s the type of man who will always get what he wants.

｡ ｡ ｡ ｡ ｡ ｡

the day was productive to say the least. you and kia had fun, and you both watched movies together. you helped her with reading and you got to know her diet, so now you knew all of her favourite foods to say the least.

the sky was dark, and you wondered what exactly was ian’s job for him to be out so late at night. you were.. a bit worried to say the least. but he could take care of himself, you’re sure about that.

for now, you focused on the sleepy kia and cradled her in your arms as you brought her to sleep.

after a few minutes of putting her to sleep, you hear a knock on your door and you could only assume it was ian. so, you got up with kia in your arms and slowly opened the door to see a tired ian.

“you look rough, mr.miller” you say gently as he mused at your words. “a lot of things happened at work, you could say” you nodded. seeing how tired he is, you spoke up softly “do you want me to put kia in her room? you seem too tired”

ian paused before giving you a gentle smile “if it isn’t too much trouble,” you shook your head. this was the least you could do. and plus, you live right next to each other anyhow. you left your unit for a moment and went into his.

he showed you where kia’s room is, and you brought her there, gently putting her on the bed and watching her sleep soundly. a small smile graced your lips before you left her room and closed the door.

“thank you for taking care of her today,” he says from behind you. you almost jumped in surprise to see how close he is to you, how his breath was near your ears and you felt something churning down your stomach.

“it’s no problem, sir” you say softly, turning around and catching his gaze. you can’t exactly explain nor tell what was going in his mind but it felt intense, hot, and you almost melted right then and there.

what was this man doing to you?

“you can call me ian, i prefer it that way” he gave you a gentle smile once more and the tension in the room finally dissipated. you nodded awkwardly and cleared your throat.

“i’ll see you again tomorrow?” you murmured out, suddenly feeling shy from the closed proximity and he nodded. “yes, you will” he says before his hand reached up and patted your head.

you shuddered at the contact and you left his unit with a sheepish smile, giving him a small wave and left back to your unit.

as you closed the door, your mind went back to how close you were to him and your face felt warm at the memory. so does your body. you wanted more of his touches, but you shook your head, preparing to go the bed instead.

“what’s wrong with me? i swear” you murmured to yourself. little did you know, he paid you a visit that night while you were asleep and stole one of your underwear.

it’s fine, you won’t notice since you still have a lot of them, don’t you?

[eveningcherryblossoms]

It's A Beta Life, Not A Better Life | Part 7

A platonic yandere Batfam x neglected beta reader story

When Jason died, Tim initially assumed you would be the new Robin.

It made perfect sense to him–you were the child of Bruce, of Batman, and the younger sibling of both the first and second Robins. You came to the Waynes at age seven, perfect to commence training. Sure Jason's death happened way too soon, but Dick started as Robin at age eight so why couldn't nine-year-old you succeed Jason?

But months passed, Batman became more and more violent, and there kept being no Robin. For some time Tim was confused, in denial–surely tonight was the night of the third Robin's debut? But it wasn't, and denial turned to anger.

What, did you not want to be Robin? Were you scared to die? Or did you fail to pass the test to be Robin? Were you unable to convince Bruce, Batman to keep having Robin fight by his side? Didn't you know Batman needed Robin?

When Tim became Robin, he'd vaguely recall his resentment of you and squirmed guiltily. He was being really unreasonable there, he just realized it after taking on the task he'd originally allocate to you. Thank goodness you couldn't read minds or sense emotions!

Tim even tried to make it up to you afterwards. Well, he couldn't really do much–he was so busy training and patrolling and going on missions as Robin–but he did make sure to assure you how he had no intention of intruding on your family or birthright or anything like that. And he meant it too!

Sure Batman, Nightwing and Agent A all treated him kindly... Almost like family... But Tim did believe that was just how they were! And as to them not including you in basically anything that Tim half-suspected they forgot your existence, well–

You were Bruce's biological child. Tim was Jack and Janet Drake's biological child. For all Tim knew, it was just how the rich raised their kids.

No. Tim did know that wasn't it, did he? That Batman, Nightwing, and Agent A–for all that they were kind to him, accepted him–neglect you. But by the time he should've realized it, Batman had become Bruce, Nightwing Dick, Agent A Alfred, and the Bats Tim's pack.

Tim didn't want to acknowledge his chosen pack could be neglectful to one of their own.

So Tim didn't say a word about it. Didn't mention you. Didn't interact with you lest the guilt sprang up. Didn't even think about you for years. When he accidentally encountered you on the bus that day, his heart almost leapt out of his throat.

And man, the conversation he had with you was so awkward. It was awkward to the point he was basically transfixed to the awkwardness, that he couldn't even tell your secondary gender when it was so obvious.

Though to be fair to himself, turtlenecks weren't exclusive to omegas... And Bruce was a prime alpha so you very well could've presented as an alpha too...

Tim shook his head. It didn't matter. It was kind of embarrassing that he could tell Bruce's secret identity but not your secondary gender, but he just had a lot in mind and the situation then was too awkward for words! He should put it out of his mind.

And he should especially forget that dream he had when he fell asleep in the bus after you got off. It was the loveliest of pipe dreams–having you present as a beta, finally joining the pack...

Too bad you weren't one.

In a different property of your late mother, your fingers typed on the keyboard at lightning speed as your eyes remained trained on the screen. As you successfully bypassed the cyber security's next defense, your lips quirked in triumph. Not bad for only three months' training.

From the start you had known that you couldn't just train your body; your mind was just as if not more important. Thankfully you'd never been the worst in anything, whatever Damian liked to say. Sure you might never have been the best either, but then again what point was there in trying so hard about things you didn't care about? When it was obvious that a goddamn Nobel or Oscar or Olympic medal from you would mean less than macaroni drawings from your siblings-on-paper?

Now that you got all the motivations you could ever need, you weren't going to hold back. This was your life or death.

As you kept typing, you mentally thought of your problems. Not the greatest one–you presenting as a beta in this betaphobic world–but your two more recent problems.

First, Dick False Promises Grayson unexpectedly trying to fulfill his promise by you. You managed to avoid him for the past month by staying out till past the Waynes' dinnertime, but he'd begun to 'teasingly' call you out so that you had to out-guilt him.

You keep not being here whenever I visit, puppy, one might think you're intentionally avoiding me! I know that's what you're doing, stop it and be grateful I deign to hang out will you.

No way, Dick! How often do you visit the manor anyway? I would've changed my schedule to fit you otherwise! Bitch, please, you always make those empty promises. Why should I bother be here just 'cause you said you would this time?

Aww, I'm hurt, puppy~ You're seriously bringing up old stuff like that? Don't be so petty!

So on and so on. Every time it happened, you ended up nursing a headache while wondering whether all omegas interacted like that with each other or Dick was just special that way.

It would have been so easy to hire somebody to cause him problems in Bludhaven. It had been so tempting to hire Deathstroke the Terminator to abduct Dick forever. Alas, easy and tempting very seldom equalled sensible.

Granted, what you eventually did could hardly be considered sensible either. But when you saw on the news that a beta trafficking ring operating in Bludhaven was apprehended, your mind jumped to the cynical question: What would Bludhaven's infamously corrupt law enforcement do for if not to the victims? Answer: take the unclaimed ones for themselves, use them as bribery, or sell them in place of the original traffickers. Just one quick look with your then-even-worse hacking skill and you managed to find out everything.

So you leaked the truth to all news channels and humanitarian organizations you could reach out to.

Dick, officially the gym coach at an omega-only high school in Bludhaven but unofficially also a 'consultant' at the BPD, proceeded to all but get drowned in the flood of scandals. With that, he was taken care of, if only temporarily.

But the second and more pressing problem–at least for the past month, certain people in Crime Alley were keeping an eye on you. And in spite of their lack of identifying clothes or anything, you were quite sure they were subordinates of Red Hood the crime lord.

You finally got through the whole cyber security, but you could no longer feel satisfaction. You kept wondering, why was Red Hood of all people paying attention to you? Did he know? If so, did he want you?

And if so, how were you supposed to take him down?

A/N: *squints at own writing* Is Tim sufficiently hateful here... Is reader sufficiently stressed here... Oh well lmao yolo *posts it*

Pls no harsh criticism guys 🙏 But I welcome replies, asks and messages alike so don't be shy 💕

Taglist: @randomlyappearingartist @bellethesleepypotato @nirvanaxx1942 @tenswife @galaxypurplerose @shycreatorreview @cupid73 @time-shardz @mikusamsan @simpingpandas @kore-of-the-underworld @elmichi0 @mirabilis-polaris @farsketch @altumsomnum @hai-there-how-are-you @vanessa-boo @ashjade19 @yandere-enthusiast @a-lurking-fae @hyperfixatedcatlover @leeiasure @luckynemi @lowkeyjarrr @lunoorbonoor @deathbynarcisstick @tacendxx @staarflowerr @anonlikesfics @magical-panda2 @whognuthis @arwenyukiamoto @hon3ydewcaram3l @lilyalone @jazzyspaceghost @teabutnerdy @bunbunbread @darktrashpoetry @conqcakes @sleepdeprivedcrappywriter @unrelatedlily @ciatin @ratchetprime211 @mybones537 @anonasatoruu @vikkus-main @shqyou @sitepathos @ee-1ovelifedownthedrain

[no-name-omo]

Can I get romantic hcs with Shadow Lord and Mateo (Separate) They're my favs.

[A/N] ahhh, my two favourite object boys, hope you enjoy

[Type] Head-Canon

[Summary] being their lover (separate)

[Genre] fluff / reverse comfort comfort / a little bit hurt to comfort / relationship

[Paring / Characters] Skips x gn! Reader /Mateo x gn! Reader

xxXShadowL0rd420Xxx / Skips Shadley The Shadow

👻Skip opens up only at night. Lying beside you in darkness, he whispers about his “eternal torment” and quietly admits how your presence eases it. You listen patiently, fingers entwined, knowing that behind every dramatic phrase is a truth he’s still learning how to say.

👻Instead of simple texts, he leaves hand-written scrolls sealed with candle wax. Each one contains lines like “To my dearest light in this wretched abyss” followed by a doodle of you two battling demons. You save every note; even the ones that end in “...also, we’re out of milk.”

👻When you’re sad, Skip wraps you in actual shadows, warm and fuzzy, not spooky. He acts like it’s part of a ritual, but really, it’s just how he comforts you without having to say too much. You’ve come to associate that darkness with safety.

👻Skip refuses to call you “babe” or “sweetheart.” Instead, he invents titles like “Wielder of My Heart” or “Chosen Champion of Affection.” The more ridiculous they get, the more sincere he seems. You tease him, but deep down, you love every single one.

👻You suggest a romantic comedy. He rolls his eyes until he’s fully invested twenty minutes in, muttering theories like “The real antagonist is emotional repression.” By the end, he’s clinging to your sleeve during the confession scene, pretending it’s “just allergies.”

👻In public, Skip is aloof and enigmatic, speaking in riddles and metaphors. In private, he’ll sheepishly nuzzle into your shoulder and ask if you think his eyeliner’s too much. He acts like love is a curse, but treats yours like it’s the greatest spell of all.

👻He plans elaborate, thematic anniversary dates. Complete with scavenger hunts, dark poetry, and candlelit rituals. It’s overkill, but sweet. You once tried to outdo him with a silly haunted house date and he nearly cried, whispering, “You... truly understand the art of shadows.”

👻Skip claims he’s not “built for caretaking,” but he stays by your side all day. He reads to you in his best dramatic voice, brings you soup with ominous garnish, and calls it a healing potion. The concern in his eyes says more than his words ever could.

👻When you fight, Skip sulks dramatically, retreating to the shadows. Eventually, you’ll find him in the corner of your room, waiting for you to notice. He’ll apologize in overly poetic language, but the apology is real and you always meet him halfway, even if it means deciphering a riddle.

👻When he told you he loved you, it wasn’t simple. He spoke of stars dying, of cursed chains breaking, and his voice trembled. But through all the metaphors, you heard him clearly. You answered simply “I love you too, drama king.” And he laughed, softly, honestly, fully.

Mateo Manta The Blanket

🧵Mateo always knows when you’ve had a hard day even if you don’t say a word. He’ll quietly wrap you in his arms, murmuring, “You don’t have to explain, love.” His presence alone is grounding, like a warm blanket on a stormy night. You melt into him without hesitation.

🧵You often find him waiting with tea and a soft smile, Davey curled up at his feet. He doesn’t ask questions right away. He just lets you be. That kind of patience, gentle and unspoken. Makes you feel more loved than any grand gesture ever could.

🧵Mateo gives forehead kisses like promises. Light, warm, and full of quiet devotion. When your confidence wavers, he simply pulls you close and says, “I’ve got you, hun.” His love isn’t loud, it’s steady, safe, and always there, even when you feel like falling apart.

🧵He struggles to open up about his own burdens. You catch him staring out the window sometimes, lost in thought. When you ask if he’s okay, he always deflects with a smile. So, you start showing up for him the way he does for you, gently, without pressure.

🧵The first time he let you hold him while he cried, he apologized for “being too much.” You didn’t let him. You kissed his temple, whispered, “You’re allowed to fall apart, too.” That night changed something. He started letting himself lean on you, little by little.

🧵You wake up most mornings to find him tangled around you, arm draped over your waist, blanket soft and body warm. “Five more minutes,” he mumbles, half-asleep. You always give in, heart full. With him, there’s no rush. Just safety. Just love.

🧵When you laugh too loud or talk too fast, he listens like every word matters. He never asks you to tone yourself down. In fact, he encourages your quirks, calls them “music” and “sunlight.” Around him, you’ve never felt more free to be yourself.

🧵He loves slow things. Reading beside you. Sharing warm pastries on a quiet morning. Watching rain drip down the window in silence. When you try to rush, he gently pulls you back with a kiss to your shoulder and a soft, “Stay a little longer, love.”

🧵Arguments are rare, but when they happen, he never yells. He withdraws, quietly hurt. It takes you time to learn how to reach him, soft touches, sincere apologies, patience. And when he comes back to you, he comes back fully. Forgiving. Loving. Wholehearted.

🧵Mateo doesn’t make love feel dramatic or loud. He makes it feel like coming home. Like being wrapped in warmth after a long, cold day. And every time he whispers, “I love you,” into your skin, you believe it completely. Because with him, you’re finally safe.

Date everything! x reader taglist: @dipdotsmiyakiwii

[616ioi]

Love the idea of messing up Uzuki so good that he can't even form a thought.

Uzuki who always tries to be in control of himself. The situation. His feelings. Because he doesn't have another choice but to obey his mind.

The voices — they blare in his head. It was a constant ringing noise that he couldn't begin to describe. At times, it needs to be shut off, and the only other way to shut it up is to give in. He wasn't about to do that.

One night, he's frantic. Desperate for a solution. Shows up at your door, begging for a release. You had that effect on him.

When he kneels before you and lays his head against your legs, the voices go numb — they're still there, quieter, like static. Your fingers cascade through his hair, yanking at the root to get him to kiss you.

When he's rolling his hip into your mouth, gritting his teeth to keep it down (spoiler alert; it didn't work well). How he grasps at the sheets with all his might, the pretty little sighs that escape his drooling mouth. He's losing control.

"Relax, kei." His breath catches in his throat as you sink down into him, spurts of precum leaking from his pretty cock. "Sweet boys take everything I give. Gonna make my boy feel so good. Don't I always?" He nods his head vigorously. Yesyesyesyesyes.

No matter what you say, he can't seem to stay still. Hips constantly squirm, legs shaking as he holds them open for you, back arching and twitching violently.

"Feel that? The bump in your stomach? That's me. Look at it, pretty, it's bulging out." His breaking point is when you kiss his burning cheek and grab his face to get his attention.

You force him to watch as you thrust your hips, grinding into him so the outline of your cock can reach his favorite spots. His stomach stretches and prods deep with your movements.

Oh and when you flatten your palm against his tummy, his head lolls out of your grasp, panting roughly. He can no longer keep up. He tries his best to meet your hot, smoothing kisses to no avail.

"How do you feel now?"

His sniffles with wet eyes and the reddest cheeks. It takes a while to get a response, he's barely able to process what goes into his head, whimpering out a pathetic response — "H- mnphhhh- uhh. H-helpp — uahh!!"

[springtimeishere]

I want to know about this short fic— the game setting is used nicely with the insert MC. Can't wait to read me! I'm deep in the trenches rn so this game might be my next hyperfixation... ❤️

HOUSE FIEND | Date Everything gn!Reader

Summary: You are the friend of the Homeowner, they need you to house sit for a month. During the time weird things happen that you hope to ignore.

Warning: Fluff, banter. I named the homeowner ‘Homie’ cause I can’t keep calling them homeowner, Homie befriended everyone, no love plot.

PART TWO | MASTERLIST | READ ME

What you thought of Homie didn’t really matter, you were friends with them and Sam. Though, you’d be a liar if you said you didn’t think they were slightly crazy—since the group chat consisted of them ranting about their…household objects…and their relationship status with each of ‘em.

You’d also be a liar if you said you weren’t at least a little bit curious about ‘Dateviators’ especially now because they asked you to house-sit for them. You stared at the message blankly, not reading the entire paragraph of why they needed to be away from the house for a long period of time—something about making sure they aren’t on their trail about having the glasses…whatever that meant.

You type back “yap alert” then adding “sure”

Then going back to mundane work life, when your manager snapped at you for slacking. Hmm, maybe a month house sitting and working at home would be better.

You wouldn’t say you’re a hermit like Homie, but sitting somewhere that isn’t a cramped cubicle would be a nice new environment. And keep you from the itching that thought in the back of your head to resign.

After a few weeks of preparation and informing your bosses that you’ll be working from home for the time being, you grab your packed backpack and walk up to their home. You’re about to knock on the door with your knuckles but you notice the…rather small door knocker and gently use that instead.

Dorian was apprehensive at first seeing you, readying himself for an obnoxious pound at the door that would escalate to more knocking when Homie didn’t come fast enough, but no. You stopped yourself and used the actual door knocker and waited patiently.

He liked you already, platonically, of course.

Homie opened the door and not so gracefully dragged you inside. They looked paranoid looking you up and down with aviators as if you’re a spy—shaking their head they started explaining. Something about how their parents are finally talking with them again, and blah blah blah.

“I can’t take Sky- Er…the glasses with me cause they’d probably take her back, and these are like my prized possession…” Rightfully ignoring the feminine pronouns for the glasses, cause what? You tease them a bit.

“Good to know your bank will repossess…glasses instead of like? Your car or something to inconvenience you more” From behind you, the curtains hung up on a bronze rod ruffle. Homie glares at it.

“Okay, it seems to me that you need to spend some time out of this house…and…interact with humans” The stairs creak along with the walls—something from the living room shutters.

You don’t notice Homie muttering under their breath “they didn’t mean it like that…”

“Your house makes a lot of noise, huh?” You ask, they guide you around each room, they grab their luggage rushing out the door—waving at things…then turning to me as they’re stepping outside. The door groans as if displeased, causing Homie to sigh.

You ignore it, better for your sanity to place logical reason to it. They grab your hands firmly, then take off the glasses and place them in your palm—like it’s a sacred symbol.

“Take care of the house, I hope you get alo—ugh just be nice, don’t break things…or insult things.” They say with a wave of their hand trying to articulate their wishes best for you.

“Also, feel free to use the glasses…I think they—well maybe not all of them but new faces are nice, I think” They pause pondering the thought comedically. Their statements and backtracking is throwing you through a loop.

“Okay, I don’t have time to explain the glasses, but if you try them I’m sure Skylar is willing to help you—‘kay byyye!!” They skip away nearly tripping on the walkway payment to their car. You laugh which was more like a huff.

You placed a hand on the back of the door to close it but it quickly shuts on its own, and a click locks. You stand there processing the weirdness of that but to convince yourself you mutter.

“Must’ve been the wind…” Look down at the top lock that you knew you didn’t touch.

“…intelligent wind…” You felt a breeze caress your check—not wanting to stay and stare in one place that would likely make you lose it and probably talk to—you don’t know maybe the personification of dread, just spitballing. You take your bag and place it next to the sofa and the glasses on the coffee table. Deciding that you’ll be sleeping there after you plopped down and melted into the cushioning.

You rather not sleep in Homie’s bed after giving great detail about how the Dateviators worked and how most of their home appliances are frisky. They never said that they’ve slept with any of them but you couldn’t get the teasing comments you’d make with Sam about it.

Thus, sleeping on the sofa no matter how many kinks you get in your neck or sore spots you get. Now that you think of it. How many of your friend’s household necessities are sentient? Also, how does that work?

You look at the glasses on the table that felt like they were inching closer to you. If—hypothetically—you were to put them on in your home would it be the same set of people or different? What are the laws of their physics? Is the object their body—or does the glasses make them transform into a mirror person? Or maybe it just takes their consciousness and personifies it instead of the inanimate object—

You groan and log your head back against the couch, bringing a hand up to rub between your eyes.

First day you and you were already thinking of the impossible, becoming your friend.

You need to do something to keep your mind off it.

Maybe writing out some emails will help.

You pretend to not care about how you felt you were being watch but in a weirdly comforting—almost robotic way. Like a person looking out for someone they don’t really know but need to be friendly with.

Weird things have started happening that you refuse to understand or accept in anything other form than a vague logical explanation.

You were working inside the office, they allowed you to use their computer you ignored when they said “they’re friendly”

It ran faster than the company issued one in your cubicle, you were nearly done with a very long chain email to your co-workers when out of the corner of your eye something moved. You didn’t even glance at first thinking it was from the light coming from the windows behind you.

It happened again. You squint at the monitor forcing yourself to stay focused, then again, then—drop.

Something fell, hit the side of the desk making a wobbled thud and onto the rug. You snapped your head to the side, realizing that the red die was missing.

You get up and peer over, seeing it laying on the ground. Rolled onto a 20. You roll your eyes and snicker. Picking it up and placing it back where it was—sitting back in the chair to start typing where you left off only to notice that…it's completely finished.

You scroll through the email—your email and are completely bewildered by the perfect spelling and even creative suggestions for the upcoming events at the office. You slack your head into your palm, mouth agape as you read through it.

Homie did say…the computer was…friendly.

You take a few minutes to think about if you should scrap it or let it be and send it. Sighing with a reluctant hmm.

Mac takes it as a thank you.

You needed a break and a high dose of caffeine…or maybe something from that mini bar you’ve been eyeing—why did Homie even have a mini bar?

Through the walkway and into the kitchen, heading straight for the coffee maker. There were some cute decorative cups by it that you placed on the center of it. Tapping a few buttons and crossing your fingers that you didn’t break it. The air fills with the rich scent of coffee.

As you wait you glance at the cute cat clock on the wall thinking about what you’ll have for dinner soon. As the coffee continues you look around their cabinets and fridge noticing how it’s only junk/fast food minus the few rarities.

The coffee dings. Stopping your search for nutritional value foods. When you took the cup you stopped. The coffee was decorated with a chocolate wafer, a dollop of vanilla cream that spread out into a beautiful design similar to a leaf, and some speckles of caramel.

This was not your typical desperate espresso that the break room had…no…this was art—something you could shed a tear at.

It made you feel guilty taking a sip and ruining the artwork. It was packed with sugar but on everything that you owned—it was the best goddamn drink you’ve ever had. It literally made you moan a “oh shit—“

You slumped your shoulders letting the warm drink fill you, trying to ignore the positive energy that was radiating from the machine. Kopi was happy you enjoyed it. You were too preoccupied with the coffee you nearly trip on your way back to the office.

You look down. Your foot was on the arm of a clothes hanger. Stepping back you look up, eyes wide in confusion. There were multiple hangers hooked onto a vent, cold air flushing out.

You do something you’re not entirely why you considered it: You pick up the hang you accidentally stepped on, dusting it off annnddd…hooking it with the rest of them.

You stare at the hangers feeling stupid.

You question how the hangers got there but that’ll give you a headache. The only thing your dumb human brain comes up with is that there could be a ghost.

And honestly you’d take the ghost over sentient objects.

So, you’ll suck it up and deal with dancing around the fact your friend is in kahoots with their memorabilia and or ghost.

You had finished making dinner with the minimal ingredients that were in the kitchen and ate in peaceful silence before cleaning up.

You are hand washing them because the dishwasher gave you the creeps after you stared at it for a long period of time. You’re at the sink rinsing the plate, on with healed cracks and seams on it like it’s been meticulously fixed with delicate hands.

You wonder if Homie did this.

You smile at the thought. Daisuke smiles at you, appreciating your gentle touch to his dishes.

As you dry the plate and silverware finishing up cleaning. You turn, and there on the center of the table were the glasses…didn’t you put them on the coffee table?

Your brain couldn’t comprehend it—so much so you again choose to ignore it. Slowly walking away while maintaining eye contact with the glasses.

This is going to be a long month.

[npookie0]

Hi hi Nathan I was wondering if you would like to a short one shot of the saja boys AND (optionally) huntrix with a very emotional reader

Tears of Gold

You're a person with a heavy heart, it shows itself through your emotions. People view you as weak, see your emotions as a shame. Yet, in the moments when your emotions are showing, you can count on your lover to be there for you.

spoilers for kdh <3 (i was tempted to make it a huntr/x x reader, be glad that i was dedicated...)

Rumi

words [ 480 ]

Rumi wasn't someone who was open about her emotions, she rarely showed them, hiding them deep beneath the surface. She saw them as shame, as something that no one should see.

That's how she was until she met you.

You were always someone led by emotions. You didn't hide your tears, your frustration, how easy it was for you to feel joy and pain. It was surprising for Rumi how you would just break down in front of people if something didn't go like you wanted it to.

This was one of these days when something didn't go your way and you ran into her room tears of frustration running down your face as you clung to her side.

"Sweetheart? Why are you crying? What happened?" She asked, embracing you and letting you be as close to her as you needed.

"This stupid mixtape isn't going out like I want it and I need to release it soon." You answered her questions and looked up at her. "Rumi, it's so annoying." You groaned in frustration,

The hunter smiled gently and cupped your face. "I know, making music is hard, but don't forget that you're an amazing artist and music is your art. You will overcome this hardship and we will celebrate your success together."

Tears started flowing from your eyes again and worry quickly spread over Rumi's features.

"Did I say anything wrong?" There was clear concern in her voice and a slight panic.

You shook your head. "No! You're just stupidly kind!" You sniffled and embraced her even tighter.

Rumi exhaled in relief and brushed your hair gently.

"You know, I'm really jealous." She said after you calmed down.

"Oh? Of what?" You asked curiously.

She looked at you with a soft smile. "Of how open you are about your feelings, Celine told me that I need to hide my shame and let no one see it, she included my feelings and emotions into the shame. Yet, you just cry when you feel like it, laugh when you want to do so, with no fear that your fans will see you or someone will use it against you." She sighed. "I wish I could be so free."

You sat up suddenly, your expression was serious as you cupped her face. "Rumi, my wonderful amazing girlfriend, I'm sorry for saying this, but Celine is so wrong! You can't hide things that you're ashamed of, sure you don't need to show everything to your fans, but you should be real with them too, if you're tired show it, if you're sad show it. They will appreciate it more than this fake perfection." You furrowed your brows. "And seriously, hiding your feelings from fans is one thing, but you hide them from yourself and that is so not healthy. We will need to work on that with you and the other girls."

Mira

words [ 403 ]

Your girlfriend and you were like two different sides of the same coin. Both led by your emotions and impulses. While Mira was easily irritated and short tempered, you were the walking definition of a cry baby.

Stil, she loved you and how open you were about your own emotions and you loved her and how she was strong in her beliefs. Mira was someone you always admired and dating her felt like a dream come true.

You returned home after a hard time at work, being a backup dancer was fun and games until the pressure was too much for one person to handle. Without much thinking you messages Mira, asking her to come over because you needed her. She didn't reply to your message after reading it, but after five minutes the front door to your home opened and her heavy steps were getting closer.

Mira stood in the doorframe, looking at you with worry in her eyes.

"Tell me what happened." She said, sitting down on the edge of your bed and gently massaging your legs. Even if her words were more of a command,, her voice was softer than it usually was.

"I hate it Mira, my work it's getting harder now. everyone suddenly requires me as a backup dancer and it's just too much to handle." You said, tears running down your face.

You hated facing your problems, but you had to if you wanted to keep yourself and your relationship healthy and in one piece.

Mira nodded in acknowledgement, her hands continued to massage your tired legs. She thought long about her words. She was blunt sure, but she didn't need her bluntness ruining her partner's day even more.

"You know... I understand it. Working in this industry is shit, you work your ass off and no one gives a damn anyway." She squeezed your calf while being lost in thought. "But, dancing is your passion too, isn't it? And it's not like you have to take every offer, we'll always welcome you if you'll need money and some time to breathe a bit."

She stopped massaging you and lay down next to you. You cuddled up to her, nuzzling her shoulder with your head.

"You know, maybe you're not wrong." You took a long breath.

"Heck yeah I am. And if someone disrespects you, I'll kick their asses."

You chuckled and kissed her cheek. "Thanks, tiger."

Zoey

words [ 291 ]

You sat in your room, your laptop in front of you playing a movie. You were sniffling and sobbing as you watched another "sad puppies compilation" video on Youtube.

Why did you do that to yourself? You knew that you'd cry especially after that one video of the puppy watching it's owners enjoy dinner inside the house while it had to sit outside.

Zoey just returned from practice for her new song with the other Huntr/x girls. You didn't really see her, too focused on wiping your tears while watching the video.

"Oh my god, babe, why are you crying?" Zoey asked, quickly getting to your side. She was cupping your face, fire in her eyes. She was about to ask another question, but she turned her head to your laptop when a loud barking was heard from it and that was when she realised what you were doing.

"Don't you dare laugh." You mumbled.

Zoey held back her laughter. "Who? Me? How could I ever laugh at my partner crying over sad puppies?"

You threw a pillow at her. "Aish." You scoffed and turned back to your movie.

Zoey leaned her head on your shoulder, giggling warmly. "Oh come on! Let me join."

"Sure, sure Just don't complain when you cry with me."

"Pfft, as if!"

Well, you were right. Zoey and you were crying, tears running down both of your faces as you watched a puppy be rescued by some nice elderly couple.

"Why is it so sad! It's unfair!" Zoey exclaimed while wiping her tears into her sleeves.

"No idea. But you're so right." You sobbed, trying to pet your laptop as if it was the puppy.

Maybe you two just needed someone as equally emotional as you...

Jinu

words [ 292 ]

Being a demon for four hundred years made Jinu believe that emotions were something he would never experience. The only feeling hoovering over him was shame. Shame of abandoning his family, shame of trying to fool humans that he was their perfect idol to steal their souls.

Jinu felt extreme confusion when you, a human with a heart of gold who could be moved by the smallest things, charmed him. Suddenly his own feelings became clearer for him and he let himself feel.

You were someone who he looked up to, every time you let yourself shed tears he watched over you, tried to cheer you up and understand why you were crying.

It was one of these situations, you were sitting on your bed, face buried in a pillow as you cried.

"My dear?" Jinu asked, his gentle hand found its place on your shoulder as he sat down next to you.

You looked up from the pillow that you held so close to you. "I didn't make it. I failed the audition."

He froze when you suddenly embraced him, but he was quick to wrap his arms around you, gently rubbing your back.

"Shh, it's okay, my dear. You will make it on another audition, trust me." His voice was calm, he tried to soothe you with his words. "If you want to, we can train your dancing and singing together to ensure that you will."

"You'd do that for me?" You asked, wiping you eyes into your sleeve.

"Of course." He smiled. "What partner would I be if I didn't offer to help my soulmate?"

"Oh you cheesy man!" You gently hit his chest and laughed. "Thank you Jinu. It means so much to me."

"Of course darling. Anytime."

Romance

words [ 312 ]

You and your boyfriend were sitting in the living room, the only noise in the room was the sound of the movie coming from your TV. You wanted to show Romance your favourite movies and since he was so into love stories you decided to play one.

It started like any normal romantic movie for young adults, sweet and cute, first love and what nots. You were really into that sorts of stories they always piqued your interest and made you imagine your own love life.

You were telling Romance about how much you love the love interest until a scene that you totally forgot about appeared on the screen. The female lead had an accident and was moved to the hospital.

"No! Not my favourite girl!" You exclaimed.

You never thought of yourself as someone who cried during movies, but here you were. Bawling your eyes out at the sight of your favourite characters crying next to the female lead's bed.

Romance, who was moved by the scene hugged you tightly, a lonely tear running down his cheek. "Shh, don't worry, my heart. They will save her, for sure." He tried to comfort you.

You tightened your held around him. You didn't even notice when he paused the movie and gently swayed you from side to side.

Your emotions were really something, you turned into a total crying mess because of your favourite character getting into an accident. Romance found it oddly cute. He was someone who was acted impulsive when he was strongly attracted to someone, mostly with you around, so he could understand your emotions having a strong impact on you.

"Now, now. Sweetheart, let's calm down and finish watching, okay?"

You chuckled at his words and nodded. "Yeah, sorry my emotions took the better of me."

"Awh, don't worry. I will still cherish you, even with puffy eyes."

Abby

words [ 403 ]

The day of the Saja Boys' concert was getting closer and with that the practices the boys and you as one of the backup dancers had to go through intensified.

You spent your days practicing relentlessly, barely taking any breaks. It took a toll on your mental health and well being. You were irritated easily, frustrated and upset more often. What didn't help was your lack of control over your own emotions.

If something didn't go like you wanted it to, you'd end up crying and shouting out of frustration, feeling like the whole world was ending because you couldn't finish a simple dance routine - even if it was actually overly complicated.

This was one of these days. You sat in the practice room, massaging your legs and stretching them after a three hours long practice. You were in a foul mood because you couldn't get one move right and it was getting on your nerves.

Suddenly a pink mist surrounded you and right after that someone's strong arms were wrapped around you.

"Hey there, sweet cheeks. A lil' birdie told me that you've been locked in here practicing" Abby whispered into your ear and rested his chin on your shoulder looking at you in the mirror.

You looked at him in the reflection and sighed. "Well, yeah. I need to practice if the concert is supposed to be perfect, genius." You scoffed.

Abby furrowed his brows. "Hey, no need to be so rude and tense."

"Agh. Sorry. I don't know what's getting into me. I guess it's just too much stress and other stuff." You exhaled and titled your head back. "I'm just tired Abby. Nothing is working out and my legs feel like they're giving up on me."

The man nodded his head in acknowledgement and understanding. "What if you took a break?"

"Are you crazy?! The concert is in a week I can't just stop working-!"

"Easy there tiger." Abby cut you mid sentence. "No need to get all heated. I'm not telling you to quick, just rest for one day."

"Well, what do you suggest I do on that break?"

He thought for a bit. "Let's go on a date tomorrow." He said out of the blue and stood up.

You got flustered at the suggestion. "Yeah, that, we can do that." You murmured. "We didn't go out in a while anyway, I guess that it's a good idea."

Mystery

words [ 273 ]

Mystery wasn't keen on human behaviours and their feelings. He was a demon for too long, he acted solely on his impulses when he wasn't in his idol persona and even then it was hard.

So seeing you getting emotional was always intriguing to him. Watching you shed tears because of a hard day at work or because you remembered something that happen to you a while ago so suddenly never failed to catch the man off guard.

This day was one of the days when Mystery found you crying in his room, holding onto a pillow and crying your heart out. He was started, unsure of what he should do in that situation.

Ignoring you wasn't an option, but he wasn't great at comforting anyone either. Still, he wanted to do something so he climbed onto the bed and lay down, wrapping his arms around you protectively and pulled you closer.

"Mystery..." You cried out and nuzzled your head against his torso.

You lay like that, no words left any of your mouths. You sobbed silently into your boyfriend's shirt and he let you do that with no complains.

Mystery was willing to stay like this for the rest of eternity if it meant that he could help you and support you in any shape or form.

Instead of calming down and taking about your worries to him like any other time. You cried until you fell asleep. The strong emotions exhausted you to the point so Mystery figured out that it had to be something big.

Something he'd try to ask about tomorrow, something he hoped you'd want to talk about.

Baby

words [ 413 ]

You knew that your boyfriend was very different when he was acting as Baby the idol and when he was himself. As an idol he was cute, infantilised, tried to appease to the fans' weirdest desires. Whereas Baby in more casual settings was the most nonchalant, carefree and unbothered person you knew.

He always seemed uninterested and bored whenever you were with him, though you knew that he did enjoy his time with you, he did express emotions like joy when he felt them, still the way he did that was rather uncommon.

It never seemed to be a problem for you, you got used to it and read him and his feelings quite well when he showed them.

Yet, sometimes you wished that he would show more interest in the things you talked about or did for him. Sure, he thanked you and there was happiness in his eyes, he hugged you and even kissed you, but that didn't quite satisfy you.

One day when you decided to make cake pops for Baby and you gave them to him, you were in a bad mood already, but seeing how his reaction wasn't as grand as you wished it would, you just broke down.

When he tried to touch you, you pushed him away and ran to the bedroom, shutting the door.

Baby stood in the middle of the living room in confusion. It was then that he realised that maybe he should've tried harder to have more human reactions, after all you were a human and even knowing that he's a demon wouldn't excuse his little reactions.

He followed you to the bedroom and wrapped his arms around you from the side, he wiped your tears with his thumbs and leaned his forehead against your temple.

"Hey, I'm sorry." He bit his lower lip, unsure if he should be doing it. "I know that my reactions aren't what you would want and I will try to be better so you would actually see that I'm thankful and enjoy what you do for me."

You didn't react at first which really concerned him. What if you had enough and decided to break up with him?

"Really?" You asked, pulling him out of the dark thoughts.

"Yeah, yes! I promise I will, just, uh, stop crying. I don't know what to do now." He admitted, feeling pathetic because of it.

You chuckled and looked at him. "Alright, alright. I'll try for your sake."

"Thanks."

aaaaaaaa

sorry for some being shorter than the others!!! i don't want to say that i struggled with it but i just didn't really have an idea of how to go about this ;w;

still i hope that you like this !!!

(please give me more KDH asks i have like 2 more and i'd like to have more !)

love u all

Nathan