#and i have no idea how id even start changing it when i do leave

[thursdayg1rl]

killing myself in front of the houses of parliament to change their life tragectories forever. and then maybe they will consider trying to make life easier for people in abusive situations

[ajdrawshq]

8 days until the 8 game ................

[secretsandwriting]

heyyyy ryyyyy <333

since ur requests are open i thought id go ahead and ask if you're mayhaps open to anything for batmom? i don't have a completely solid idea but maybe smn like batmom has been getting threats or maybe hate or smn from somebody and everyone's reactions and how they get hella protective?

obv no pressure and you definitely do not have to write this

hope you have a great day bb

Heyyyyy, so this grew hands and wrote itself, I hope you enjoy it. It did end up with a lot of backstory.

Earned Position

5.3k words

You knew this would happen. Once your relationship with Bruce got out there would be an influx of love and hate. You also knew that everyone else knew that as well. It was common knowledge than anyone around a celebrity of sorts would experience that. 

Of course you did the normal things, turned off most notifications and only looked through areas online you knew would mostly be safe. You blocked tags and and only followed people you knew or ones who didn’t post about drama. 

When you did stumble onto hate, you moved on. If someone kept sending you nasty messages you blocked them, when they made other accounts to keep sending the same things, you changed your settings so only those you followed could message you. 

It wasn’t something you wanted to deal with but it was something you could handle. Something you started mentally preparing yourself for when Bruce’s attention on you lasted more than 4 dates, even more so when you caught yourself daydreaming about him.

You were not going to let random bitter people on the internet destroy your happiness like they did their own. Your family however, wanted to destroy what was left of your haters' happiness. Something you were trying to curb, but trying to tell a family of vigilantes who considered you the best mom in existence not to destroy your haters was like talking to a brick wall. Over the years, you had gotten used to it. It barely even registered anymore. But there had been a recent influx of the hate and while it didn’t bother you, it bothered the rest of your family. None of them could stand people talking bad about their mom.

While you hadn’t been there while the older ones were young, the second you had introduced yourself to them, you had taken a very important role in their lives. None of them realizing it at first. All of them had gotten used to the random women Bruce brought home that it took a little while for them to realize how important you were. 

Dick wasn’t sure at first. Thinking you were just another girlfriend that wouldn’t last long. So he didn’t really interact with you much. Ignoring your existence when it wasn’t too rude, or at least obviously rude. Until one night when he was staying at the manor and had a nightmare about his parents death. 

Bruce had an open bed policy. As long as there was still room for him, his bed was open. A policy he had started when Dick had gotten old enough he was worried he wouldn’t be allowed to go when he had a nightmare. Bruce had always reminded all his kids, that nightmares don’t go away just because you’re older and that needing comfort wasn’t something they would outgrow. 

The thing was, you were there. Girlfriends didn’t mind when children did it but they never liked it when his adult kids did it. The shaking in his hands and the way he saw them fall in the darkness of every blink told him the only way he was getting any sleep was with someone. 

Hopefully he could just slip into Bruce’s side and leave before you woke up. That was the plan until he found Damian on Bruce’s side and you had been pulled closer to Bruce taking up what was left. You moved a little and Dick took that as his sign to deal with it himself until he heard you whisper his name. He hummed so you knew it was him and not some random stranger standing over Bruce’s side of the bed. 

“Nightmare?”

“Yeah.”

“Come on.” You lifted the blanket next to you, “Bruce told me you guys come here when you have nightmares. There's plenty of room over here for you.” Dick hesitated for a second before giving in. He needed sleep anyway. You weren’t when you said there was plenty of room, Dick had most of your half of the bed. Once he had settled on his side, facing away from you, he felt you pull the blanket over his shoulders. 

“Night Dick, sleep well.” For some reason, that was what did it. Once the tears started they didn’t stop. Silent sobs made him shudder and he felt one of your hands gently rubbing his back. “Oh Dick.” There was no pity in your tone and he found himself rolling over and curling into you. Your chin resting on his head while you rubbed his back. 

The next day, he followed you around like a puppy. Your side of the bed became his favorite when he had nightmares and it wasn’t long before he turned to you for general comfort over anything.

Jason met you at his grave. Neither of you exchanged words, but he caught something in your gaze he didn’t quite understand. He also wasn’t sure why you were at his grave either, he didn’t know you when he was younger. 

When he saw the Gotham News post about Bruce and Your 2nd anniversary, it brought more questions than answers. Why were you at his grave alone? Let alone longer than a few seconds. It was an odd way to gain more of Bruce’s affections. 

Every Tuesday you would be there, leaving flowers and talking softly to the stone. Every time you left, you would smile and nod, the look in your eyes he couldn’t figure out was still there. Every time he would strain to heat what you were saying and only be able yo a few words here and there. 

6 months into it, the routine changed. You brought a blanket and Basket with your usual flowers. You did what you normally did with the flowers but instead of talking to the stone you waved him over. When he didn’t move, you stopped what you were doing and looked at him. 

“Jason Todd, I have been keeping your secret for 6 months. Helping me spread this blanket and having lunch won’t change it.” He stared at you while you waited expectantly. Eventually when he could get himself to move, he came over and helped. He sat down where you motioned for him too, all while trying to figure out how you knew.

“Bruce mentioned this used to be your favorite when you were younger so I asked Alfred to teach me how to make it. I hope it's up to your standards.” He looked at the plate of food you handed him. It was almost overflowing with food, all of which reminded him of the good times back at the manor before he died. “Alfred also sent your favorite cookies when he heard I would be eating at your grave.” The bag of cookies was placed next to the basket, within easy reach.

“Why?” Was all Jason managed to choke out around the lump in his throat.

“I decided early on in life, no matter who I was with, I would love their family as my own. My grandfather hated my grandmothers side and it caused a lot of pain in all the generations. I decided I would never do that to another family.” Jason found himself back in control enough to start eating. 

“So when I started dating Bruce and he told me about you, I decided to treat you like you were my own. Even though I had never met you and you were dead. Most of what that meant was keeping your grave clean and always making sure there were fresh flowers. While I did that, I would tell you everything that was going on.”

“How did you know it was me?”

“Your eyes, they may be a different color but they looked too similar. So I did a little digging and found pictures of your biological pictures to place the face shape it matched. I think however you look more like Bruce then either of them.”

“Are you going to tell them?”

“As much as I would love to. It’s your choice. You’ve been keeping this to yourself for a reason. If I can help you get to a place to tell them, I would love to. But I won’t say a word until you're ready. However, I would like to keep having lunch with you.” 

A year later, Jason reintroduced himself to the rest of the family a lot calmer than originally planned and was glued to your side anytime he felt overwhelmed that night. Every Tuesday after that, lunch was scheduled.

Tim was nervous when it came to you. He was still living in the manor so he saw you more than the older two. You always seemed nice and respected his privacy but Bruce was always with you so you obviously would. 

It was when he wasn’t around that worried Tim. Bruce attracted golddiggers and they were always mean when Bruce wasn’t there. When you were given a copy of the key, Time braced himself. 

Of course he knew that if he told Bruce anything that happened like that, Bruce would break it off. He had always told them that they came first. But he also knew that Bruce liked you a lot. All the other ones Bruce liked a lot that turned out to be horrible, he broked it off. Tim had seen how it had made him upset and he really hated doing that to him. Maybe he could deal with it for once. 

So when Bruce left for a business trip, Tim was Expecting the worst. What he didn’t expect was for you to knock on his door and ask if you could join him. When he agreed and stepped back so you could come in. He expected you to go to his bed or his desk chair not, the oversized bean bag on the floor.

“I have a question for you but you can’t tell Bruce yet.” Here it comes. “What would a funny way to tell him I know he’s Batman?” Tim wasn’t expecting that one. “I was thinking a lot of batpuns but his paranoia is too bad for that.”

“How did you figure it out?” You walked him through your process and didn’t say anything as he wrote parts of it down. Once you finished explaining the process for Bruce, you explained any way it was modified in figuring out their identities.

“Who do you think I am?”

“Red Robin.” Tim found himself getting excited. 

“You know those notes you leave him in his office?” You nodded. “You should leave those in the Batcave.” You considered it but your thinking was interrupted but Tim shouting. 

“No! One night when we’re all in the cave, you could bring some snacks!” 

“You just want snacks when he’s lecturing you don’t you?”

“Maybe..”

“Alright, but you have to tell the others so they can tell me what snack they want.”

So Tim slowly and carefully went through all his siblings, letting them know you figured it out, Bruce didn’t know, and what the plan is. Every time he relayed a snack to you he’d watch how carefully you’d write it out to make sure you had it correct or look up recipes if you couldn’t find it in stores. 

Two weeks later, Tim was the one who sent the signal in the middle of a lecture everyone was receiving and he got a front row seat to see Bruce’s face when you walked in and handed out snacks before giving him a kiss and telling him to be nice and leaving. 

Any other worries were left in the dust when you helped him win the nerf war for the best seat in the home theater. He thoroughly enjoyed his spot next to you while Bruce swore revenge from the other side of the room.

Damian treated you politely but that was it. His mother was still alive and he didn’t want another one, one was more than enough. Not only that, but you were weird. 

One time when you were over, you found one of his report cards. Immediately you were praising him. He didn’t understand why, he had basically failed one of his classes with an A-. You should be disappointed like his mother would be, not hanging it up on the fridge and telling people not to touch it. Definitely not taking him out for ice cream and calling him so smart. He definitely shouldn’t be feeling any pride when he walked past it, but he still was. 

When he was practicing his violin and Messed up, you were supposed to tell him to stop failing, that he should be better. Not smiling at him and telling him he’s making good progress. You should be telling him that he should have memorized that piece in a day. He shouldn’t be feeling any pride when he finally does memorize it, it took him 4 days to learn it.

When he was struggling to learn a language, you were supposed to tell him to work harder. He could do better, after all, he already knew so many. Instead you just smiled and recommended a break to refresh his mind. 

When he snapped at you in Arabic, he expected you to be upset since you didn’t know what he said and it was obviously not something nice. Instead you set the rule that if he was going to use Arabic to speak to you when upset, that he had to teach it to you and if what he said wasn’t something you had learned yet, he had to tell you in english. When he told you what it meant, you didn’t even get upset. He definitely shouldn’t be as excited as he was when you actually started learning. 

So many more little things piled up, leaving Damian confused. The differences between how you and his mother treated him was so big he didn’t know how to process it, he liked you and all the little things made him happy in a way he hadn’t really felt. But he still loved his mom, When he had enough of it, he asked you to stop. He still wanted to love his mom. Once again, you did something you weren’t supposed to.

“Oh Damian, I’m not trying to replace your mom nor am I trying to make you feel like you can’t love her or she doesn’t love you. Your mom and I show our love in different ways and its ok for you to love or like both of us. You mother loves you and she will always be allowed in your life if thats what you want.” You weren’t supposed to do that, but Damian was really glad you did.

Barbara wasn’t sure how you would react to her. She wasn’t just Bruce’s kid. She had a loving family she went back to every night. Most people weren’t really a fan of that, one of Bruce’s past girlfriends had some strong and hurtful things to say about it. 

When you took her for a day out, she found herself warming up to you but still waiting for the other shoe to drop. One of the new places you had planned to go, didn’t have wheelchair access. Like all the other girlfriends who had done this, she expected you to be annoyed that your plans had to change or you would just leave her outside while you shopped. 

You didn’t seem to notice her hesitation, just looking at what was next on your list and starting the trip there. When Barbara stared a little longer at a new movie that was in theaters, tickets and snacks were bought and you listed to all the lore she told you about before it started.

While it had been a nice day, Barbara wasn’t convinced. One day was easy to fake. Sure she had lots of fun, but Barbara was used to fakes when it came to Bruce’s girlfriends. Of course she wasn’t complaining about you being nice, she just wasn’t sure how long it would last. 

“Did you hear about that boutique?” She looked up from her food to look at her dad. “That new one that you tried to go to with Bruce’s girlfriend? Well there was a report that it didn’t meet the Americans with Disabilities act and the boutique is in trouble. People are speculating they’ll have to close down.”

Later that night, Barbara looked into it. They were in trouble, pretty big trouble from the looks of it. Towards the end of the article she found the name of the person who reported it, she wasn’t sure who she was expecting. Not you for sure but the Name Y/n L/n took her by surprise and filled her chest with feelings she couldn’t describe. 

The boutique ended up closing but a new one opened. Once it was open, you were the first to ask her to go. That weird feeling came back when she wheeled herself up the ramp and through the door you held open for her. Later that night, in the privacy of her room. She decided she liked you. 

Steph seemed like she liked you, she acted like she liked you, she didn’t really like you. Sure you were nice, Bruce loved you, the others were warming up to you, but she wasn’t sure how to feel about you. So she stuck with not actually liking you but pretending to. 

So when she was around you, it was all smiles and jokes. She wasn’t a big fan of it all but she did it because she knew you were important to Bruce and that was enough of a reason for her. She knew Bruce and the others could see through the act but as long as you couldn’t, that was enough. 

When Bruce announced he had to leave for a business trip right before she could hand him the parents visit for one of her AP classes, something the new teacher liked doing. She tucked the paper away. When Tim gave her a questioning look, she shook her head and later swore him to silence. 

Every time she heard someone mention their parents were going, she felt a pang of jealousy in her chest. Every time Tim mentioned bringing it up to you, she swore him into silence again. It wouldn’t be the first time no one showed up for her. She was however thankful you wouldn’t be at the manor as much so she didn’t have to pretend to like you.

When the day arrived, Steph was not having a good day. School dragged on slowly. Slower than normal. When school finally ended, she had to sit in the classroom and watch everyone else that was in her class leave and the parents of her classmates show up while no one was there or coming for her.

Someone sat in the seat next to her, she expected another family member of one of her classmates. Definitely not you. She couldn’t return your smile, too unsure of how you found out, the fact you actually showed up, and how she felt about you being there. You leaned a little closer so that the others in the room wouldn’t easily overhear. 

“I know I’m not your parent and someone you just pretend to like so if you want me to leave I will. But I figured someone was better then no one. Oh, and Tim wanted me to tell you he didn’t spill. Your teacher called the manor because no one had RSVPed for you and I answered it.”

That night, as Steph showed off all her hard work to you, the charade fell. She actually enjoyed her time with you and the boost of pride as you oohed and ahhed over all her projects and listened to her explain all the little details. That night, Steph realized, she didn’t need to keep pretending. She liked you, until she found out you didn’t like her favorite show but a nerf war solved that. 

Cass could tell you were different then the other girlfriends, your body language as you interacted with all of them showed it. However that didn’t mean she knew how to interact with you.

She had learned that she was fairly hard for new people to interact with. She also knew she had trouble interacting with people she wasn’t fighting. So it wasn’t a surprise when it started rocky. 

What was a surprise, was when you found out she was still having trouble reading and writing, you stepped in to help. Well, that wasn’t the surprising part, a lot of girlfriends did that. The surprising part was the amount of patience you had when it was only the two of you. 

When one method didn’t help, you tried another. Never once did you snap at her or call her a name. Everytime you got frustrated you would stop and look at her, say something along the lines of “If I had as much trouble with this as you do, I wouldn’t want to keep trying. You're doing absolutely amazing! I’ll keep looking for other ideas, but for now, lets take a break and get a treat.” 

Cass wasn’t sure why that always made her feel better, but it did. Every treat you brought was something you made just for the tutoring sessions and it always reminded her of what Alfred had told her once. “Something made with love for you will always taste better.”

And when a method that made it a little easier to learn was found, Cass found herself smiling along with your cheers. Bad days where she couldn’t seem to make any progress were always met with the same excitement, cheers, patience, and treats that all the others were. 

Cass still wasn’t sure of what to think of you exactly, but she knew she liked you and that you cared about her.

So when Tim saw the new rise in hate, a sibling meeting was called. They all went through each site, blood boiling as they saw what people were saying about their new parent. Plans were made, declarations of war were ready, and anger fueled all of them. Bruce could tell something was going on, but he wasn’t sure what it was and as long as it didn’t get out of had, he wasn’t sure if he had the energy to deal with it. 

War was declared in an interview by Steph. The lady was asking questions when the topic switched to Bruce, then you. The reporter was clearly trying to subtly find some dirt on you and Steph was not going to stand for it.

“Oh yeah! Y/n! She’s the best!” She put on her best press face. Trying to hide her anger over the hidden intent. She didn’t have to lie or act when talking about you but the change in the lady’s face going to disappointment when she didn’t get anything she wanted was making her look very punchable. 

“She’s always showing up for us and making sure we’re doing ok. If Y/n and Bruce were to break up, I think most of us would go with Y/n.” The way the lady kept trying to get anything really got on her nerves and Steph decided she needed to get out of there before she started using the lady’s face for target practice. You wouldn’t like that.

Cass was the first one to resort to violence. They had asked a thinly veiled question, basically asking if you were a golddigger. So she punched him in the nose and leaned down to flip the camera off. She hated interviews already but that made it so much worse. She hoped you wouldn’t be too upset with her punching the guy though.

Jason, surprisingly enough. Did not get violent… physically. He did however curse one out and threaten him when the reporter implied you were forcing them to say nice things. When the reporter kept pressing Jason broke his mic and told him if he ever heard him talking bad about you again, a broken mic would be the last of his worries. Jason knew you would be disappointed but he had held back, he didn’t shoot the guy like he wanted.

Tim threw his coffee at one reporter because he heard them say you were nothing but a regular person who didn’t deserve any attention. He then took over her segment, threatening the company to air it or he would make sure they went bankrupt. Once he finished his threats, anything he said was praising you name. Telling everyone how amazing you were and how much they all loved you.

Barbara made it a point to bring up everything you did for the community when they tried to throw some shade at you in an interview. She had documents to prove it and hacked their systems to add them into the interview so they couldn’t claim it was fake. She also made sure to run over his foot when she left. 

Dick punched a reporter when they tried to ask him what you were really like behind closed doors. He told them the truth, that you were just as good, kind, patient, and loving behind closed doors as you were out in public. He didn’t throw a punch until the reporter disregarded that as asked again because she couldn’t be that good. Dick knew a lecture would be coming once you saw, but he would rather sit through a lecture then let anyone tarnish your name.

Damian spent 10 minutes cursing and threatening a reporter in Arabic when they asked him if you had ever hurt him. When he was done, he told them in english, that if he ever got asked that question again, he would impale them. He knew you were going to make him sit down and translate everything and the general response you would give but he didn’t care, no one speaks bad about either of his mothers.

Bruce figured out what was going on after Steph’s interview. He saw the ones where they assaulted or threatened the reporters and made sure his lawyers were on standby to keep the kids out of trouble. After all, he had seen more than they had. 

He had watched as you tried to connect with Dick early on, how you worked hard to try and get somewhere. He had woken up before you when Dick had come in that night and heard how you handled it. He had woken up the next morning to find you holding Dick close, like you were trying to protect him from the nightmares. He had seen how you never turned Dick down when he wanted comfort, no matter how serious or silly the matter, and he had heard your excitement when you told him Dick liked you.

Bruce had seen the way you never missed a visit to Jason’s grave, on a visit of his own, he saw how much care you showed the stone marking it as his lost son. While he hadn’t been sure why it was alway the same time on Tuesday, he didn;t mention it. He felt the way you would sob in his arms after each visit, a year after the tradition started, you always said you had promised not to tell and he watched as you kept that promise even if it tore you to pieces. Once the shock and tears wore off for a little bit, he could see the trust that Jason had in you.

He heard the way you questioned if you should have a key to the manor, you didn’t want to make Tim uncomfortable in his own home, or how you questioned if you should visit while he was gone. Not wanting to stress Tim out when there was no reason too. He saw the way you and Tim grinned at each other when you brought snacks down for all the kids he was currently lecturing. He head the excitement in your voice as you told him about the tour Tim had given you of the Batcave and the shared laughter as you and Tim worked together to win the nerf war.

Bruce saw how you worked to give Damian the affection he didn’t think he needed. He felt you crying in his arms upset over the fact Damian thought you would be angry because he made a mistake or struggled in a class. He heard you practicing your Arabic as you got ready for bed and he watched as you stress paced over whether or not you said the right thing to him about his mother. 

He saw how angry you had been when you came back from your day out with Barbara. He had heard your call with your lawyer as you tried to figure out what to do. He saw you going through the laws and making a list to make sure your lawyer didn’t miss any. He heard about the movie you didn’t particularly care about and the lore you remembered in case of another because you wanted Barbara to have someone she could tell all of her favorite things too. 

Bruce saw the pictures you had taken from the school night. He heard all the details from you as you praised Steph’s work. He saw the way Steph stopped acting around you and the silly arguments the two of you would get into for fun. He heard the way you would listen to her as she verbally worked out her problems. He saw the way Steph looked for you in a crowd, the way she knew you were there but not where you stood exactly, the thought of you not being there never crossed her. 

He saw the way you stayed up late, researching different ways to teach reading and writing. He heard the patience and kindness and you worked with Cass. He saw the way you always made a treat just for Cass to have after each lesson because you wanted to reward her hard work. He heard the way you cried for Cass when she had a bad day and got frustrated with herself because you knew she was smart and you wanted her to see it too. He heard your celebrations when Cass made any progress, no matter the size. 

Bruce heard, saw, and felt the way you worked hard to have a relationship with his kids. How you had mourned for their losses, celebrated their wins, and felt their pain. He saw the way his kids blossomed under your care, growing to be better and more confident in themselves. The way you cared for them as if they were your own flesh and blood. So when he was asked about his kids behavior, he said as much. 

“Y/n has worked hard to be accepted by them. She’s given so much of her time, effort, patience, and love and never wanted anything in return. She always shows up for them, no matter what the occasion is, big or small, it doesn’t matter. If they want her there, she’ll be there. Everytime they need or want her, she’s there. She never judges them and treats them as if they were her own blood. Of course their upset and lashing out, people are insulting the woman who has cared for them more then most of their biological mothers.”

Later, a clip of you scolding Bruce and all the kids went viral. While you were scolding them over their behavior and making the kids who had reacted with violence or threats write apology letters because asking mean questions does not make it right to respond badly especially when its someone just trying to start drama. Everyone one noticed that there was no actual bite to your tone and no anger when they all refused to stop acting like that. In fact, there was a small soft smile on your face as you shook your head at your family.

[ywuji]

Omg so like I want to hear your thoughts on perv!Megumi like finally after so long of Gojo teasing him for being in college for two years at this point and being single, he’s finally procured a pretty girlfriend who’s unfortunately (for her) so naive and sweet??🩷💕 Idk I got shy but I know you’ll do something good with this lol

ik i told u id post this after my wips but i started on it n i couldnt stop i liked the idea too much LOL im sorry for being so confusing D; tysm for the ask though!!! :o i rlly enjoyed writing this!!! (n don’t be shy ahjwhs you’re so lovely T_T♡)

perv!megumi !!! please i feel like he’s the type to be a pervert that’s kinda embarrassed n self aware about himself—especially bc gojo kept teasing him all those years n he was kinda just jacking off to whatever x-rated video that came up first (i feel like perv!megumi is highkey into hentai too but he’s taking that to the grave!!)

n when gets a pretty little girlfriend who acts so cute and who he loves so much, when he gets hard he can’t help but let some of that side of him slip out from time to time...

i think he’s also the type to take lots of pictures,, like pictures while you sleep, peeking through your door while you shower, in clothing store changing rooms while you change, upskirt pictures… he’ll make you his little model!! some of them you know about but some of them you don’t, he’s so lewd.

it’s not just pics of you he takes, it's some of himself too. i feel like one of the things he’d love to do to you is when you tell him to come with you to some random uni event, n he’ll randomly disappear in the middle of it, only to go to the bathroom to take pictures of his hard leaky cock to send you with some casual caption like he didn’t just do that ?!?! he’s crazy (more under the cut)

it’s not megumi’s fault he’s so in his head about you, he still just doesn’t really know how he managed to get someone as pretty and doting as you are as his. 

he sometimes feels guilty for being so obsessed with you—your body clad in pretty little outfits that you show off to him with a twirl, the way you’ll always show him your shiny new sparkly nails when you get them done, how he’s always the first one you’ll pick to talk to about something new you’ve found to love—it’s all that seems to be on his mind recently.

maybe it was gojo’s accidental doing, those feelings of guilt. unintentionally planting a little growing seed of shame in him the first few times he started teasing him for not having a partner yet at his ‘big age’, borderline lecturing him with the ‘when i was your age’ stuff—maybe that was the logical reason why he felt so attached to you, the reason he couldn’t help getting fully erect even when he only saw as much as a pair of your flung-away panties lying at the edge of your bed when coming to your room one day.

but when he recalls back to those nights where you’re innocently cuddled against him, watching whatever movie, a quiet ‘megumi?’ leaving your lips as a sign to tell him you’re falling asleep, and he finds himself shifting in his seat, carefully adjusting your head to let you rest comfortably on him, pressing a soft kiss to your hair as he strokes it and tells you a ‘sleep now, angel’, he knows that’s not the reason.

nevertheless, he’s always been worried about it, thoughts of ‘am i doing too much?’ or a ‘would she not like this?’ clouding his mind. but for every single thought like this he has, he’ll always have two more memories where he’s coming up to you, his sweet-faced little girlfriend, waiting for him with open arms and open heart. and to him, it means more than the world.

and as his cheerful sweetheart girlfriend, you’ve never really minded of course.

you know he’s at least a little perverted, asking to take those pictures of you trying on your new swimsuits, or bras, or skirts, or those times when he pulls out after spilling his load into you, and the first thing he does after making sure you’re okay is to go face-to-face with the trail of cum seeping out of you to snap a few photos.

honestly, you’ve gotten used to it at this point. you just take these moments, seeing what you do to him, as a way of reassuring yourself that he really does just love you that much. and he really does. really!! :(

no matter how innocent or dirty the context, he’ll let you know whenever he gets that warm little feeling in his chest.

“i-i love you,” he pants, head coming up from sucking marks on your neck, languid thrusts coming to a gentle stop as he peers up at you with flushed cheeks. it feels like he’s admitting it for the first time again.

when you stare at him with his same love-drunk look, brows furrowed and eyes pleading, whispering out an “i love you too, gumi”, he’ll pause a moment to study your expression before gently raising you further up the bed, hooking his hand under your leg and repositioning it around his waist.

he’ll drop down to press a kiss to your cheek before resting his chin on your shoulder and picking up the pace again, now only determined to make you cum.

when he thinks of times like these, despite what you’re doing together, it’s innocent in his head.

a time where that’s not so much the case though is when you persuade him to come with you to some uni exhibition event, looking up at him with hopeful, doe-like eyes and as many ‘pleeeaaase, gumi’s and ‘please, guuuum’s as you could muster—cause it’s not like he could say no to that, right?

at first he put up an act of feign stubbornness. but eventually he agreed—only when he knew you’d excitedly hug him and press your soft chest to his as a thank you for it though.

he’d tour the hall with you, watching you gaze in awe at everything with your cute, simple curiosity, occasionally pointing out little things in the pieces he liked. before the artist began their talk though, he got up from his seat, pressing a quick kiss to your cheek before muttering a “‘m g’na go to the bathroom.”

in an empty stall, he’ll sit atop the lid and pull down his jeans, freeing his stiffening cock from his underwear. he quietly groans as he pumps himself a few times, a slow trickle of translucent white leaking down from his tip.

he silently curses, throwing his head back, thinking about how you let him flip up your pretty skirt before you left, letting him take a peek at your cute ass in the frilly panties he bought for you.

he reaches for his phone, fumbling to send a picture of the sight to you, adding a casual caption of something like ‘hi pretty girl’ or ‘u look so pretty today, angel’.

he pauses, realising that maybe you won’t see it for a little while. he’s imagining you so obediently listening to the artist speaker to notice the ping of his notification—he enjoys that thought too, but he can’t say why.

he’s careful not to thrust up into his fist, not wanting to make too much noise, but it’s futile—he’s too hard staring at the lewd shots of you saved in his secret hidden album—the way you act so innocently, the way you have no clue what the true extent is of what you do to him. he can’t help but let a few breathy whines slip.

he won’t let himself cum though, thinking he’s too good to be letting himself release over some scrunched up, bathroom tissue when he’s got his own pretty little girlfriend waiting for him a few halls down.

he sighs. cleaning up and tucking himself back into the band of his briefs, leaving the stall and washing his hands, walking back out like nothing happened.

[timmyyyturner]

Dm's: Jason Todd x Fem! Reader

TW: Alcohol.

jasontodd: I'm in love with you.

y/nl/n: i literally have no idea who you are.

It started a few months ago when you were followed by some random guy on Instagram. He had a racking of 28 Million followers and you were just a girl with 2K posting GRWM's and make up tutorials.

jasontodd: you looked so pretty in your livestream like MARRY ME TF??? ♡ liked by y/nl/n

y/nl/n: thank you, baby ♡ liked by jasontodd

You didn't get why you were so special.

y/nl/n: *voice memo* I'm serious like is there a reason you think I'm soooo pretty? ♡ liked by jasontodd

jasontodd: Damn. Even your voice is hot.

jasontodd: I'm sorry for inhaling the same oxygen as you🙏

y/nl/n: LMAO

It was kinda cute, kinda stalkery. Every single thing you posted he liked, seconds after. Praising you like you were an absolute goddess. At first you thought maybe it was a fake account but no, he was the real deal (he sent you a picture of his ID with blurred out details). When you Googled his name, you didn't expect his adoptive dad to be the BRUCE WAYNE. You might not be Wayne obsessed but everyone in Gotham know who Bruce Wayne was.

jasontodd: You busy??????

y/nl/n: no, why?

It was late almost 3 in the morning and you'd been occupied by messaging some guy who slid into your dm's six months ago. You were surprised when a incoming video call notification popped up on your phone. You were hesitant to but answered it. "Hello?" His camera was moving a lot but it was quite on his side, you could hear how heavy his footsteps were. You were laying in bed cozied up holding your pillow in your arms, another propping up the phone.

"Gimme a second." You watched him set the camera up in his bathroom, toothbrush hunging from his mouth. "There." He continued brushing his teeth. "Where are you going dressed so handsomely?" He snickered. "Well, pretty lady. It's not where I am heading but where I've been. I just got home from a friends after party."

"Probably using the art of back bending to bring home chicks?" You tilted your head. "Unless the chick was you, pretty, Ion want her near me." You smiled, He yawned causing you to do the same. "Dick is making me brush my teeth cause I threw up in his car and now my breath stinks." You nodded, listening to his little rant. "He's getting me a bucket so I don't choke on my vomit in my sleep, how many people do you think died like that?"

"Well-" You attempted to answer but he cut you off unintentionally by throwing up off screen, thankfully before returning to the screen, rinsing his mouth and rebrushing his teeth. "Who's Azealia Banks? Is she a influencer?" You smiled. "She's in the music industry, a real controversial person." He hummed.

"Who are you talking to?" Jason picked up his phone. "My girlfriend and you can't see her cause she's mine, your brain will hurt with beauty." Jason kissed the screen before you heard Dick approach him. "C'mon Jay get in bed now."

"No." You watched Dick attempt drag Jason— who was throwing lowsy kicks and punches at Dick— to bed. You giggled watching the camera angle change in the hands of drunk Jason before the phone fell somewhere. "Get. In. Bed."

"No." It was funny hearing Jason have an actual sibling bond. "Fine, I'll just call in the big guns. ALFRED!" You could hear Jason mumble a 'fine' before a ruffling of blankets as he got in bed. "NOT ON YOUR STOMACH!" Dick yelled, picking up the phone, looking at you. You waved at him sweetly. "Jason, there's no way you pulled her. She's so pretty and nice and you're... Jason." Jason snatched the phone frowning. "I don't like you." Jason laid on his side, Dick was on his way out of the room before turning to Jason to say something. "Hey, Y/n, do you wanna get married tommorow?"

"Uhm, I'll discuss this with sober you, okay baby." Jason hummed. "Can you stay with me until I fall asleep?" You smiled. "Okay." Dick smiled leaving the room.

He fell asleep a little over a hour later. You pressed a kiss to your screen before hanging up and going to bed. He woke up with a throbbing headache. He grabbed his phone seeing you posted on your story 30 minutes ago. He opened it seeing a picture of him and you on a video call. Did he call you last night?

"don't go! what if I choke on my drunk vomit and die?!" - jason todd. He chuckled reading that. He liked the story immediately getting a reply.

y/nl/n: alive then?

He smiled.

jasontodd: Sorry about last night lol.

y/nl/n: lol don't worry about it :))!

After that you sent him a picture of lots of you cooking, which he liked. What you did next though surprised him.

y/nl/n: 📍live location

y/nl/n: join me? we can discuss our marriage, boyfriend ;)

He never got out of bed faster.

[gutterfuuck]

thinkin abt u and ur best friend mark…

cw: somno, pervy mark, drunk reader, mdni

bff!mark who gets touchy when you’re out and about, his hands always finding their way on your shoulder, thigh, neck. of course, he was protecting you! he had to keep you safe from all of the other bad men, it was what best friends were for, right?

bff!mark who forgets to return your pajamas from the night before, hoping that you would eventually forget about them too, so he could continue sniffing at your clothes, his mouth hanging open while he fucks his fist.

bff!mark who apologises for the weird mark that stained the seat of your pajama shorts, swearing up and down that he knew how bad it looked and that he had no idea how it had gotten there. best friends don’t lie to each other, after all.

bff!mark who lets you get just a little bit more tipsy than you should be; helping you swallow down yet another drink even after you had insisted that it was to be your last.

bff!mark who damn near almost has to carry you across campus on his back, your high heels in his hand as not to lose them, he knew that they were your favourite.

bff!mark who holds your door open for you, watching as you stumbled into your home, tripping over nothing, resting on your bed.

bff!mark who doesn’t have a problem with sleeping over in your room for the night, you were his best friend.

bff!mark who starts to strip you naked, trying his best to avert his eyes from your body while he attempted to change your clothes for you, not being able to resist looking at your tits, your nipples pebbling up from the cold air.

bff!mark who’s hands start to roam your barely conscious body, pulling your pants down to your ankles to take you all in. he was just cleaning you up a little, changing you so you’d be clean for bed.

bff!mark who buried his face into your crotch, sniffing you like he had sniffed your clothes, his heart thumping as he debated whether he should taste your cunt, just one lick, one taste and he’ll be done…

bff!mark who has no idea what he’s doing, his tongue flicking against your clit mindlessly. you tasted so sweet to him, making out with your pussy, kissing your little nub lovingly.

bff!mark who is painfully hard, his cock straining against his pants as he palmed his clothed bulge, looking down on your sleeping body, knowing that he was violating you in your own bed, knowing that your roommate could walk in at any time and ruin his fun.

bff!mark who’s hands fully yank your pants past your ankles, leaving you completely nude, eating you up with his eyes.

bff!mark who apologises while he jerks off over your unconscious form, occasionally slowing down to rub his leaking tip all over your lips, guilt slowly slipping away as he lost himself in you,

“sorry… ‘m so sorry..” he says in between heavy breaths, the thought of you waking up in the morning and knowing none the wiser making him throb.

bff!mark who is scrambling to stuff his dick back into his pants as if he had never done anything wrong, searching his blank and flustered brain for an excuse as to why you were naked.

“i thought id clean you up”, “you threw up all over yourself”, “you trust your best friend right, y/n?”

and who are you to judge him?

bff!mark who watches you stand up clumsily, your tits bouncing as you walk over to your messy desk, pulling one of his shirts over your head. he had left it in your room some time ago, and you had been using it as a pajama top.

bff!mark who can’t stop himself from blurting out how good you looked, even with your makeup smudged and your hair in a mess. you smiled back, best friends were supposed to compliment you, no matter how pervy it came off as sometimes.

bff!mark who takes advantage of your drunken, sloppy state, his pockets almost bulging with panties you would never see again and would blame on the community dryer that you swore had eaten up your sweaty t-shirt, the same shirt that mark used as a pillowcase, falling asleep to your smell.

bff!mark who regrets not holding you down, covering your mouth with his hand and just using your body to get himself off, telling you how much he needed this and how much he wanted you.

bff!mark who tucks you into bed, waiting for you to fall back into a deep sleep before he’s fisting his cock with his hand again over you,

“you’re gonna take it- fuckkk, i’m gonna make you take m-me-“

he groans, mumbling to you as if you could hear him,

“g’na shove it in-inside… get you pregnant- hng..”

bff!mark who pumps his cock faster, chasing his approaching orgasm, body tensing up as he shot white ropes onto your sleeping face, hips stuttering as he carried on stroking his length, overstimulating himself to ride out this moment for longer.

bff!mark who pulls out his phone, taking picture after picture of the way his cum glazed your face and leaked down your cheek,

“y/n, i’m so sorry… sorry..”

he whispers sweetly, wiping the mess he made on your face away with the sleeve of his hoodie, planting kisses all over your face.

bff!mark who finds himself in his boxers, sneaking under the covers to sleep beside his best friend, a regular occurrence after you had drank for the night.

bff!mark who whispers goodnight into your unhearing ears, kissing your forehead and pulling you into his arms. you wouldn’t question it in the morning, as usual. you trusted your best friend, even when you woke up with mark’s dick pressed against your ass. it was just morning wood, it wasn’t on purpose. you trusted your best friend.

[planetpedri]

I loved the new Jobe fic you wrote it’s very nice! I was wondering if I could request a Jude one….if not you could write it for Jobe I don’t mind. One where you’re in a secret relationship and you end up being in the same place as him and his family. You both just staring at each other. Maybe you work somewhere or something else. But you can’t let anyone know you both know each other or that you’re together. So it’s just to sad and heartbreaking. Later you guys have a call or meet and it’s just breaking you both down but it’s still not a good idea to go public because of the public and their reactions. If you can and want to id love to read something similar. Thanks a lot

Ripples — Jude Bellingham.

Pairing: Jude Bellingham x Fem!Reader

Summary: Having a famous boyfriend wasn’t easy, what wasn’t making it any easier, was how adored he was by fans. Any spark of dating rumors sent them spiraling, and Jude never wanted you to be subjected to that. You’d hit your breaking point when you had to seat him and his family at a table, and all the while, pretend as if you didn’t know him.

Word count: 1k+

Disclaimer/s: Angst with resolve + hopeful ending.

A/N: I hope I did this justice.. idk

Tightening the waist apron around you, you make your way to the front. It was shift change, and you were now taking over for your coworker. She handed you the notepad and pen, wishing you a quick, ‘good luck’ before leaving.

You let out a loud sigh, making your way to the front as there was certainly customers waiting. It was noon after all.

You’re too busy making sure everything was in your apron pockets to notice the family of four at the front. “Hello, I’m—“ You look up, breath hitching in your throat. You stutter out your name, swallowing thickly to calm your nerves, “and I will be your waitress today. Please, follow me.”

Your boyfriend and his parents, along with his younger brother Jobe, did just that. Jude seemed to be the only one who noticed your reaction, his heart thumped in his chest the second he saw your face. You’d stiffened instantly, tension clear in the way you held yourself.

Taking them to a booth, your eyes flicker to Jude’s. You watch him sit down, sending you a quick smile. Nothing significant, he’d do it even if you were just another worker.

You set out the menu’s, forcing a smile onto your face. “Can I start you off with drinks?” You ask, taking out the note pad and pen.

Denise started off with the ordering, and when it came to Jude.. well! You couldn’t even look at him. He was watching you though, trying to hide the upset in his voice as he spoke. Of course you noticed, you’d heard that tone multiple times.

“I’ll be back in a moment.” You nod, hastily making your way to the back.

The first thing you do, is hand the notepad to a co worker. “I’m not feeling well, could you take over my table?” She had nodded, concerned, but didn’t press further.

The rest of your shift went smoothly. You had unsuccessfully avoided the Bellingham’s table completely, somehow always in sight of your boyfriend. He stole glances your way, and the few times you caught them, you immediately looked away. That same thing went back and forth for the whole hour his family had dined there.

The second your shift ended, the grey cloud that had followed you around the whole day, somewhat lifted. You’d finally started to chill out when you got back in your car and drove home.

Jude had texted you multiple times, but you’d ignored them until you got into your apartment. Collapsing on your bed, you shoot him a quick text, asking him to come over.

Within seconds he replied, ‘already on my way’ and that was that. You had to impatiently wait to see your boyfriend in the safety of your apartment. No cameras to see you, no fans, no family.

The few soft knocks on the front door tells you Jude had arrived. A swarm of nerves hit you like bullets as you made your way to the entrance. You unlock it, pulling it open in the process. You’re immediately met with a half-smiling Jude. Half as in it didn’t seem to reach his eyes, which you knew meant you were in for a talk.

“Hey.” You say, opening the door wider to let him in before shutting it behind him.

Jude makes his way toward your couch, plopping down before replying. “We should talk. About today.” He adds the last part as if it wasn’t obvious.

“Yeah.” You nod, sitting down a few feet away from him. “Why would you willingly bring your family to that restaurant? You knew I worked there!” Your voice was raising slightly out of frustration, which you immediately tried to stop. It was no use to get angry about this.

Jude straightens, his eyebrows pulling together. “It wasn’t my choice? My parents wanted to go, so we went. And I tried to give you a heads up, but you weren’t answering.”

“Yeah, well, I was working.” You chuckle humorlessly. “It’s fine, though. I just hate having to hide like this. Do you know how upsetting that was for me? To see you with your family and for them to not even know who I am?”

Jude nods in understanding, his lips pulling into a frown. “I know, I know, and I’m sorry. I wish it wasn’t like this, but the fans—“

“I’m a grown woman, I can handle it! I’d rather be harassed online than have to duck and hide every time we’re in the same vicinity.” Desperation clings onto your voice, your eyes softening as they dart up to meet your boyfriends.

He plays with the couch cushion mindlessly and chews on his bottom lip. “What if.. we compromise?”

This peaked your interest, your eyebrows lifting slightly. “How?”

“You meet my family and a few of my friends, but we keep it private still? And if it ends up getting out… it gets out.” It was a half assed attempt at fixing things. He couldn’t lose you, but he also couldn’t bear to think about how the public would react, which would inevitably lead to you getting hurt. And if he had to choose, Jude would rather lose you than you getting hurt in that way. “Plus, not being able to talk about you to my family is killing me.”

Half way was better than no way, so you sigh. “Fine. I can deal with that.” Scooting closer to your boyfriend, he meets you half way, using his long arms to pull you into his side. The last part of what he said suddenly clicked, a smile making its way onto your face, but you don’t say anything about it.

You two lay like that silently for a few moments, Jude’s hand coming up to play with the ends of your hair. “Y’know… my mum gave me that look at the restaurant when you walked away. I think she may have a hint of whats going on.”

Chuckling into your boyfriend’s chest, you smile. “And here I thought we were always so subtle.”

Likes , comments , and reblog’s are all appreciated. Leave a comment if you’d like to be tagged in any future posts whether it’s specific or all <3

DTS , @halfwayhearted + @spidybaby !

[aebinspa]

dopamine

PAIRING: giselle x y/n reader

GENRES: suggestive, angst, reader hates giselle and they end up doing a project for school together lmao, meangirl!giselle, reader and giselle are a menace to society, jimin (aespa) and juyeon (tbz) are in a study group together and they are incredibly optimistic, mentions of sex, kiss, swearing.

WORD COUNT: 2.5k

AUTHOR'S NOTE: english is not my first language! so i’m practicing my writing hoping it can get better and better. AND stream giselle's dopamine it's so good <3

Nothing could have prepared you for the worst news of your life: you, aware that you love loneliness and hate forced contact with others, were assigned to group work with Aeri Uchinaga, famous for not contributing to any group work and for being always in the middle of too many, too many men.

After leaving a resigned sigh you approach your best friend Jimin to tell her about the unfortunate fate that struck you. "Among all and I say among all those that could happen to me, HER" "You’re tragic even if she has a bad reputation. Perhaps a woman like you who does nothing but read, read, and read will surrender and become incredibly willing!" "Funny Jimin. Who did you get?" "Juyeon and they also say that besides being incredibly beautiful he is also incredibly gifted" whispers Jimin, thinking that this could save her from the embarrassment of such a statement. "Enough, I’ve heard enough. I’m going home."

On the way back, angry and sad, you noticed a really nice coffee in which you would have wanted to stop but the change that you had in your wallet would not be enough even for half a sandwich. The puff you pulled out scared a stray cat that was stealing a piece of bread from the ground. Why does everything feel so strange to me?

The next day, as you arrived in class, you noticed Juyeon’s huge body very close to your best friend’s; you came up to check if Jimin was all right only to see that her face had a loving expression. "Good morning guys" you are starting, trying to forget what you just saw. "Hi, Jimin told me a few things about you. How nice to meet you" The two-door wardrobe that took the name of Juyeon squeezed you in a strong embrace that leaves you breathless. Men are really scary. "Hey Y/N, Giselle was looking for you earlier." "Who?" "That’s how us boys call her!" "You… guys?" "Giselle is part of my group, at least once we all go out together!" Juyeon’s enthusiasm was overwhelming but not enough to influence you. "Ah, she's going out with you."

"Y/N" What a hateful voice, not changed by a comma. You didn’t sunbathe at first; you wanted to see how much the little princess could have withstood without a bit of attention. Juyeon - this time with the help of Jimin - thought about involving her. "You might as well look me in the eye when I talk to you." "Go fuck yourself, Giselle. You sound like the 'ass-kicking' girl”. It didn’t take even half a second for you both to turn in the opposite direction. Jimin and Juyeon, moved by the situation, tried to calm things down. “How about you girls come to my house? Jimin and I have to do our project but there’s no problem if you come too. The table is big, the fridge is full and the more the merrier!” Juyeon shouted enthusiastically.

The idea of ​​being alone in an empty room with Giselle terrified you so it didn’t seem like a bad idea to accept without too many problems; the other seemed to agree too.

“Perfect! Then let’s all go to Juyeon’s this Friday afternoon!” Oh Jimin, you could have avoided this.

Unfortunately for you and Giselle, Friday arrives in the blink of an eye. Juyeon’s imposing house stood in front of you and Jimin. “Not only is he handsome and gifted, but he also has a huge house. What more can I ask for?” “You could say a little prayer for me, for example” “Giselle won’t be able to tear your hair out if Juyeon and I are there with you” Jimin smiled at you as if to reassure you. “Good thing you always see the positive side…” you replied, already tired at the idea of having to enter that house.

When you entered, Giselle was already sitting on the wicker chair in the lush garden that was attached to the house. “Girls, here you are. Jimin can you help me bring some snacks out?” Jimin didn't have to be told a second time and rushed to help the boy after sending you a flying wink. You approached Giselle and sat in the chair opposite her, to maintain some distance. It was the first time you had seen her like this. The dark hair that she always combined with clothes of the same shade was this time combined with a long white dress that made her almost ethereal; the glasses made her face prettier than the one she had always adorned only with heavy black makeup which yes suited her well but a lighter shade made it stand out even more. Maybe you found yourself staring at her too much because when your eyes met you saw a smirk of victory on the girl’s face.

“Are you admiring what you’ll never have?” “And what is this thing I’ll never have? Dignity?” “The chance to brag about how beautiful you are” “Oh, the princess of everyone’s bed spoke” “I don’t have sex with men” Giselle replied somewhat upset. “Oh, so all the things they say about you are false?” “My group of friends is made up of all gay men and one straight man” Concern for Jimin filled you for a moment and you stopped the conversation in progress. “Juyeon's not gay, right?” “As if your eyes can't see how he's hitting on your best friend, you dumbass.” "Here's all the snacks!" Your darkened and frowning faces turned abruptly towards the two newlyweds and then shouted "Shut up!" Jimin resignedly rolled her eyes.

The first half hour you and Giselle spent arguing over the theme of the PowerPoint presentation. “This is an old lady color” “This is a funeral color though Y/N!” "You love funeral colors!"

The next two hours were spent looking for information on the same topics which later turned out to be identical; cause for further argument. When Juyeon and Jimin finished their work, you were still in the first part of the project. Your best friend and the guy disappeared somewhere after two minutes; when you received a message from Jimin you found out that the two had gone to stock up on chips.

“So you hate me?” You never expected to see such a piercing look on Giselle’s face. “No, I find you annoying and everything they say around you about you seems to confirm it” “I already told you this is all fucking fake” The black-haired girl ran a hand through her hair and turned her gaze elsewhere. “People love to say everything that comes to their mind. I'm a lesbian, men don't interest me. After I refused to have sex with a guy I was paired up with for a group project, he went around telling people that I'm a terrible partner and that well… slutshaming and other not-so-nice things about me."

The silence that followed immediately afterward was extremely embarrassing for both of them. “I said a bunch of bullshit, I'm sorry. I always imagined you through gossip, even though I know that Jimin doesn’t think of you as a slacker and that Juyeon is your best friend” “Y/N” Giselle tried to butt in. “Listen Aeri, I’ll make it up to you. I don’t like you but I have to admit that despite the various arguments you’re a real looker and what you say sometimes makes me laugh so all in all, you’re not bad” Giselle laughed. “Oh my god, are these supposed to be an apology?” "My apologies" “You should make them better. No nice man would pursue such a lunatic." “I'm not interested in men. They're just accessories to me.”

Giselle only stopped laughing when you said that. “But the two boyfriends you had last year?” Without asking how she knew, you continued with your speech. “A Cover to keep my parents from realizing I’m a lesbian. Same old story. They were nice accessories at least”

The tension between the two of you was growing more and more. Giselle slowly approached you, first placing a hand on the floor where you were lying and then bringing a leg forward. “How long has it been since you kissed a woman, Y/N?” You gulped down. “How long has it been since you kissed a woman, Aeri?” Giselle was a millimeter from your lips, hand on your thigh, and hand next to yours. If only it hadn't been for the scream that Juyeon pulled open the door, something would have happened, Giselle quickly moved away and muttered “What an idiot he is” as if the house didn't belong to him to begin with.

“We’re back! Is everything okay or did you get into a fight?” A restrained, fake laugh came out of your mouth and so did the words that came out of it. “We were one step away from having ourselves by the hair” You couldn't describe the look Giselle gave you.

The next day at school, you noticed that Giselle’s desk was empty. Worried, even though you didn’t want to admit it, you asked Juyeon for the girl’s number. Juyeon couldn’t help but smile as you saved the number on your phone. You immediately texted Giselle, asking why she hadn’t come to school and threatening to break into her house through the window if she didn’t answer. To your surprise, Giselle responded a few minutes later with a raised middle finger emoji; to which you of course responded with another middle finger. The next message made you lose your mind. “Bitch, I'm waiting for you at my house. Don't break my door, please”.

As you walked towards Giselle's house, you wondered where this interest in such an annoying person had come from. Interest was a big word, but yesterday you were the one who almost threw yourself into the arms of a girl you felt like you had hated for a lifetime.

When you arrived in front of Giselle's house, you knocked so loudly that the one who looked out the window was the neighbor and not the interested girl. "Holy God, what a mess you make!" Giselle in pajamas and slippers opened the door and made you smile. “Cute pajamas” “Go shit”

You went up the stairs and arrived in the girl's room. The room, to your surprise, was pink wherever you turned to look at it. “Hello Kitty puked on it?” “Perhaps you mean My Melody” “Even the canopy bed, princess” Giselle lay down on the bed and waited for you to do the same. “Shall we finish the work?” “I’m in”

Compared to the day before, things seemed to be going better. It wasn’t just the arguments that kept the exchange of information going but also the moments where you both dedicated time to listening to each other’s opinions.

“Done! And fuck it all!” “Hopefully we get a good grade” "God Y/N who cares! It's already a miracle to have managed to finish something like this." You nodded to let the other person understand that for once you agreed on everything. You printed out the sheets with the part that each of you had to do for the presentation and then threw yourselves on the bed again, tired of everything.

“Do you find school that fun?” Giselle was the first to speak. “No, simply when I don't know what to do I start reading, reading, reading. At least that’s what Jimin says” “I can’t stand it.” “Maybe you can't stand the people who are there” “Yes, but I hate everything about that place. The desks, the air that makes me uglier, the men, the homework, and group studies" You thought a few more seconds before answering her and, taking a deep breath, you turned towards her. "I can make you change your mind" “You can try but I don't know how well it works” “There's me and Jimin in the class. Then we can study together and everything will seem fun!” “See… You like school” Giselle's face darkened. “I enjoy being with Jimin. There's also Juyeon! And well… I'm here." Giselle turned away and didn't speak to you anymore.

A day went by and Giselle never replied to your messages. That morning you were supposed to present the group project. Not only had she stopped responding to the messages you were sending her under the desk, but she was also late for the presentation. A terrible thought passes through your mind. Did she stay home? She knows that the teacher gives a failing grade when something like that happens.

Jimin and Juyeon brilliantly finished their presentation and the applause, luckily for you since you were supposed to present later, lasted for two minutes. “Y/N and Giselle are next. However, I see that one of the two is missing. I will have to give you a good-” The classroom door suddenly burst open and all the eyes of your classmates and yours moved from the teacher to the figure of Giselle, who noisily began with a “Teacher, Y/N and I are ready to present!” A small smile appeared on your face.

Fortunately, the presentation given by you and Giselle surprised the class and the teacher who seemed to have very low expectations. During the break, you grabbed Giselle by the arm and led her to a secluded space. It was she who spoke first. "Excuse" “Don't be sorry, strangely everything went well” A silly bit of tongue from Giselle made you grin. “It went better than expected, yes.” You nodded. That silence that now characterized your relationship was starting to be too heavy to bear. Giselle came close to your face. “Teach me what having fun at school means, you little bitch,” she began while doing nothing but staring at your lips. "I know a better way to have fun." It was your hand that brought your bodies together and united them. Within seconds, Giselle approached your lips and began to kiss you without fear of being seen. Your tongues and legs intertwined as the kiss became more wet and passionate. You were the first to break away from the kiss, leaving you breathless. “We're going a little too fast” “We're just reversing the lessons a little bit. I kissed you first so you can teach me all that bullshit about how great school is." “And what happens after I teach you everything you need to know about school?” The bell announced the end of the break. “Well, after that I can see if I trust you and if we can go further.” "So kiss, school, sex, and only if these three work can we be together?" A loud laugh escaped your lips and Giselle without answering began to head towards your classroom.

“You know Y/N, maybe my plan could work” “There’s never been a plan that I couldn’t make work” The look you exchanged sealed a long and lasting agreement between the two of you.

[cy-cyborg]

Disability Tropes: The Miracle Cure

The miracle cure is a trope with a pretty negative reputation in disability circles, especially online. It describes a scenario in which, a disabled character, through either magic, advanced technology, divine intervention or some combination of the three, has their disability cured throughout the course of the story. Sometimes this is literally, as in the disability is completely and entirely cured with no strings attached. Other times, it looks like giving an amputee character a prosthetic so advanced that it's basically the same as "the real thing" and that they never take off or have any issue with, or giving the character with a spinal injury an implant that bypasses the physical spine's break, or connects to an exoskeleton that allows them to walk again. Sometimes, it can even look like giving a character some kind of magic item or power that negates the effects of the disability, like what I talked about in my post about "the super-crip" trope. Either way though, the effect is the same: The disability is functionally cured and is no longer an "issue" the author or character has to worry about.

But why would this be a bad thing? In a world with magic or super-advanced tech, if you can cure a character's disability, why wouldn't you?

[ID: a screenshot of Roy mustang from Full metal alchemist Brotherhood, a white man with short black hair in a hospital gown. In the corner of the screen is the hand of another person holding a small red gemstone. /End ID]

Well there's a few reasons. First, lets talk about the purely writing related ones. If you've been around the writing or even media critique communities for a bit, you've likely heard people voicing their frustrations with tropes like "The fake-out death" where a character is either implied to have died, but comes back later, or is explicitly shown to be dead and then resurrected. Often when this happens in media, it leaves the audience feeling cheated and like a character's actions and choices don't really matter if even the worst mistakes and consequences can be undone. In the case of the latter situation, where they die and are brought back, it can make the stakes of the whole story feel a lot lower, since even something like death is shown to be reversible, so the audience doesn't really have to worry about anything bad happening to their favourite character, and once you've used this trope one time, people will constantly wonder why you wouldn't use it every time it comes up.

The same is true for "fixing" a character's disability. It sets a precedent that even things as big and life-changing as disability aren't permanent in this setting. We don't have to worry about anything major happening to the characters, there's no risks associated with their actions if it can all be undone, and it will lower the stakes of the story for your audience. Personally, I also feel like it's often used as a cop-out. Like writers wanted to include a major injury the leads to something big like disability for shock value, but weren't sure how to actually deal with it afterwards, so they just made it go away. Even in cases where the character start the story with a disability and are cured, this can still cause issues with your story's stakes, because again, once we've seen you do it once, we know its possible, so we won't feel the need to worry about anything being permanent.

Ok, so that's the purely writing related reasons, but what if that situation doesn't apply to the story you're writing? What if they're "fixed" right at the end, or the way they're cured is really rare, so it can't be used multiple times?

I'm glad you asked, because no, this is far from the only reason to avoid the trope! In my opinion, the more important reason to avoid it is because of how the a lot of the disabled community feels about the miracle cure trope, and the ideas about disability it can perpetuate if you're not very, very careful.

You might have noticed that throughout this post, I've put words like "cured" and "fixed" in quotes, and that's because not every disabled person wants a cure or feels like their ideal to strive for is able-bodied and neurotypical. For many of us, we have come to see our disabilities as part of us, as part of our identities and our sense of self, the same way I, as a queer person might see my queerness as a part of my identity. This is an especially common view among people who were born with their disability or who had them from a young age, since this is all they've ever really known, or who's disability impacts the way they think, perceive and process the world around them, how they communicate with people or in communities who have a long history of forced conformity and erasure such as the autism and deaf communities. Many disabilities have such massive impacts on our lives that we literally wouldn't be who we are today if they were taken away. So often though, when non-disabled people write disabled characters, they assume we'd all take a "cure" in a heart-beat. They assumed we all desire to be just like them again, and this simply isn't the case. Some people absolutely would, and there's nothing wrong with that, but it's not as universal as media representation makes it out to be.

Another reason it's so heavily disliked is because this trope is often used in conjunction with other ableist and harmful tropes or it's used in ways that perpetuate misinformation about living with a disability and it can have ableist implications, even if that's not what the author necessarily intended.

If the miracle cure is used right at the end of the story for example, as a way to give characters a happy ending it can imply that the only way for a disabled character to be happy in the long run, is for them to be "fixed", especially if they were miserable all the way up until that point. If it's used earlier in the story as a way to get said character back into the action, it can also be read as the author thinking that disabled people can't be of use to the plot, and so the only way to keep them around is to "fix" them.

Of course, there's also the fact that some authors and writers will also play up how bad being disabled is in order to show why a cure is justified, playing into the "sad disabled person" trope in the process, which is pretty much what it says on the tin. Don't get me wrong, this isn't to say that being disabled is all easy-breezy, there are never any hard days and you should never show your character struggling, not at all, the "sad disabled person" trope has it's place (even if I personally am not a fan on it), but when both the "sad disabled person" trope and the miracle cure trope are used together, it's not a great look.

This is especially bad when the very thing that cures the disability, or perhaps the quest the heroes need to go on to get it, is shown to be harmful to others or the disabled person themselves. Portraying living with a disability as something so bad that it justifies hurting others, putting others at risk, loosing yourself or killing yourself in order to achieve this cure perpetuates the already harmful idea that disability is a fate worse than death, and anything is justified to avoid it.

I've also noticed the reasons the authors and writers give for wanting to cure their characters are very frequently based on stereotypes, a lack of research in to the actual limits of a person's disability and a lack of understanding. One story I recall reading years ago made sure to tell you how miserable it's main character, a former cyclist, was because he'd been in a car accident where he'd lost his arm, and now couldn't ride bikes anymore, seemingly unaware of the fact arm amputees can, in fact, ride bikes. There are several whole sports centred around it, and even entire companies dedicated to making prosthetic hands specifically for riding bikes. but no, the only way for this to resolve and for him to be happy was to give him his arm back as a magical Christmas miracle! It would be one thing if the story had acknowledged that he'd tried cycling again but just had difficulties with it, or something was stopping him from being able to do it like not being able to wear the required prosthetic or something, but it really did seem as though the author was entirely unaware it was even possible, which is an issue when it's the whole point of your story existing. This happens a lot more often than you'd think, and it's very clear when an author hasn't even bothered to google search if their character would be able to do something before deciding the only solution is to take the disability away.

There's also the frustration that comes from being part of an underrepresented minority, finally seeing a character like you on screen or in a book, only for that representation to be taken away. Disabled people make up roughly 16% of the population (though many estimate these numbers are actually much higher), but only about 2.8% of American TV shows and 4.1% of Australian TV shows feature explicitly disabled characters. In 2019, around 2.3% of films featured disabled characters in a speaking roll, and while it's slowly getting better as time goes on, progress on that front is very slow, which is why its so frustrating when we do see characters like ourselves and so much of their stories focus on wishing to be, trying to become or actually being "cured".

An finally, there's the fact this is just a really common trope. Even if we ignore the issues it can cause with your story's tone and stakes, the harm it can do to the community when not handled with care, the negative perceptions it can perpetuate and everything else. It's just a plain-old overdone trope. It shows up so often that I, and a lot of disabled people, are just getting tired of seeing it. Despite everything I've said, there are valid reasons for people to not want to be disabled, and just like how I made sure to emphasise that not everyone wants a cure, it's important to recognise that not everyone would refuse it either. So long as it's not done in a way that implies it's universal, in theory, depicting someone who would want and accept a cure is totally fine. The issue is though that this trope is so common and so overdone that it's starting to feel like it's all we ever see, especially in genres like sci-fi and fantasy (and also Christmas movies for some reason).

[ID: A Gif of a white man in a top hat nodding his head with the caption "Merry Christmas" down the bottom. /end ID]

Personally, because it's so common, I find even the few examples of the trope used well frustrating, and I honestly feel that it's at the point where it should be avoided entirely where possible.

Ok but Cy, you mentioned there are ways to use this trope well, what are they?

So, like I said, I'm of the opinion that this trope is better off not being in your work at all, but if, for whatever reason, you can't avoid it, or it's use is really that important to the story you want to tell, there are less harmful ways to implement it.

Don't have your only disabled character take the cure

If you really must cure your disabled character's disability, don't make them the only disabled person in the story. Show us another character who, when offered the same cure, chooses not to take it. This at least helps push back a little against the assumption of "of course everyone would want this" that these kinds of stories often imply and doesn't contribute (as much) to disability erasure in the media.

Don't make it a total cure

In real life, there are cures for some disabilities, but they rarely leave no trace. For example, an amputee's limb can sometimes be reattached if it was severed and they received medical treatment fast enough, but it usually results in at least a little nerve damage and difficulties with muscle strength, blood flow or co-ordination in that limb. Often times, these "cures" will fix one issue, but create another. You might not be an amputee anymore, but you're still disabled, just in a different way. You can reflect this in your fictional cures to avoid it feeling like you just wanted to avoid doing the work to write good disabled representation.

Do something interesting with it

I got a comment on my old tumblr or possibly Tik Tok account ages ago talking about their planned use for the miracle cure trope, where their character accepts the cure at the cost of the things that made her life enjoyable post-disability. Prior to accepting the cure, she had found other ways to be independent to some extent and her community and friends helped her bridge the gaps, but they were all taken from her when she was "cured" forcing her into isolation. Kind of like a "be careful what you wish for" sort of thing. The story was meant to be a critique on how society ignores alternative ways of getting the same result and how conforming to other people's ideas of "normal" isn't always what you need to bring you happiness. This was a genuinely interesting way to use the trope I think, and it's a perfect example of taking this trope and twisting it to make an interesting point. If you must use a trope like this, at least use it to say something other than "disability makes me sad so I don't want to think about it too much". Alternatively, on a less serious note, I'm also not entirely opposed to the miracle cure being used for comedy if it fits the tone. The Orville has some issues with it's use of the Miracle Cure trope, but I'd be lying if I said Isaac amputating Gordan's leg as a prank, knowing it could be reversed in a few hours did get a chuckle out of me.

If your villain's motivation is finding a cure for themselves, don't use it as justification for hurting people

Disabled villains need a post all their own honestly, but when a villain's motivation for doing all the terrible things they do is so they don't have to be disabled anymore, it's especially frustrating. Doubly so if the writer's are implying that they're justified in their actions, or at least that their actions are understandable because "who would want to live like that?" Honestly, as a general rule of thumb, avoid making your villains disabled if you aren't disabled yourself (especially if they're your only disabled character), but if they are disabled, don't use the disability as a justification for them hurting people while finding a cure.

So are there any examples currently out there to look at where the trope is used, if not well, at least tolerably?

Yeah, I'd say so, but they're few and far between. Two examples come to mind for me though.

The Dragon Prince:

[ID: A Gif of Ava the Wolf from the Dragon Prince, a light brown, fluffy wolf who is missing her front right leg. /End ID]

The Dragon Prince on Netflix uses the miracle cure twice, but I still really enjoyed the show (at least I did, up until my Netflix subscription ran out, so I've only seen up to season 4). The first time the trope is used in the series, it's actually a fake-out. Two of the main characters, while looking for someone to help them heal the dragon egg they're carrying, encounter a young girl named Ellis and her pet wolf Ava. The two explain their egg is not looking good and they need to find someone to help it, but no one they've found had the knowledge or ability to do anything to help. Ellis says she knows a healer who can help them, and tells them that this healer even restored Ava's amputated leg when she was a pup. When we actually reach this "miracle healer" however, she is revealed to be simply an illusionist. She explains that Ava is still missing her leg, she simply made it look as though she had restored it because Ellis's parents were planning to throw the puppy out, believing it would not survive with its disability and would only be a drain on supplies. This was not actually true and Ava adapted to her amputation very well, she simply needed more time, and hiding her disability and making her appear abled gave her the time she needed to fully recover and adjust. When they return to the healer with the main characters, she removes the illusion and explains why she did it, emphasising that the real problem was never with Ava, but with how people made assumptions about her.

While I do feel it was drawn out a bit too long, I do appreciate the use of the trope as the set up to an overall positive twist. Disability does come with down-sides, it's part of the deal and it would have been nice to see a bit more of that, but for disabilities like amputation in particular, the worst of our problems often come from a lack of adequate support and people's pre-conceived ideas about us, and it was nice to see this reflected, even if it is a little overly simplified.

The second time this trope comes up in the series is when one of the antagonists, Soren, is injured during a fight with a dragon, becoming paralysed from the neck down. His sister, Claudia is absolutely beside herself, believing it was her fault this even happened in the first place, but Soren actually takes his new disability very, very well, explaining that he understands there are things he can't do now, but that there's a lot of things he can still try, that his previous job as a soldier just didn't allow time for. It's possible this reaction was him being in denial but it came across to me as genuine acceptance. He is adamant that he doesn't want a cure right from the beginning because he knows that a cure would come at a cost that he doesn't want his sister to pay, and that he is content and happy with this new direction his life will be going in. Claudia, however, is not content. It had been shown that she was already using dark magic, but this event is what starts her down the path of using it in earnest, disregarding the harm it will cause to those around her. She ignores Soren's wishes, kills several animals in order to fuel the healing spell that will "fix" him, and Soren is pretty clearly shown to be horrified by her actions. What I like about this use of the miracle cure trope is that it touches on something I've seen happen a lot to disabled people in real-life, but that rarely shows up in media - the fact that just because we accept ourselves, our disabilities and our new limits, doesn't mean our friends and family will, unfortunately. In my own life, my mum and dad were always accepting of my disability when I was younger, but as I got older and my support needs changed, my body took longer to heal and I stopped being able to do a lot of things I could when I was little, they had a very hard time coming to terms with it and accepting it. I'm not alone in this either, a lot of disabled people end up cutting contact with friends and family members who refuse to accept the reality of our situations and insist "if we just try harder maybe we won't be so disabled" or "Maybe you will get better if you just do [xyz]". Unfortunately however, some disable people's wishes are ignored completely, like Soren's were. You see this a lot in autistic children who's parents are so desperate to find a cure that they hurt their kids through toxic and dangerous "treatments" or by putting them through abusive therapies that do more harm than good. Claudia has good intentions, but her complete disregard for Soren's decision still harm them both in the long run, leading to the deterioration of their relationship and causing her to spiral down a very dark path.

Full Metal Alchemist: Brotherhood

[ID: A Gif of Ed from full metal alchemist, a white boy with blond hair, staring angrily at a jar of milk on the table. His brother Al, a sentiant suit of armour, is in the background looking directly at the camera. The caption, spoken by Ed, says "So we meet again you little bastard" /end ID.]

The show does begin with Ed and Al looking for a way to cure their disabilities (which they gave themselves when trying to resurrect their mother as children went horribly wrong). However, when the boys discover that the object needed to do that - a philosopher's stone, can only by made through absolutely abhorrent and despicable means, and using one, likewise, comes at the cost of potentially hundreds or thousands of people's souls, they immediately stop, and shift their focus on finding the stones that had already been made so it can't fall into the wrong hands, and preventing the creation of new ones. The core theme of the show is that everything has a cost, and sometimes the cost is simply too great.

However, right at the end of the show, several characters are healed in a variety of ways. Ed gives up his ability to do alchemy to get his brother's body back, as well as his arm so he can save his friends in the final battle, but neither of the boys come away from this completely "healed". Al's body has not been used since he was a child, and so it is shown he has experienced severe muscular atrophy that will take a long time and a lot of work to recover from, acknowledging that he has a pretty tough road ahead of him. When we see him in the epilogue, he is still on crutches despite this being several months after getting his body back. Likewise Ed is not fully healed, and is still missing one of his legs even if he got his arm back.

The more... interesting use of the trope, however, is in the form of Colonel Mustang who was blinded in the final season. Mustang is shown to take to his blindness pretty well given the circumstances, finding a variety of ways to continue doing his job and reaching his goals. When other characters offer to let him use the philosopher's stone to heal himself however, he takes it, acknowledging that this is a horrible thing to do and that Ed and Al would be extremely disappointed in him if they ever found out. He uses it both to cure his own disability, and to cure another character who was injured earlier in the show. While I'll admit, I did not like this ending, I can at least appreciate that the show made sure to emphasis that a) Mustang was doing fine without the cure, and b) that this was not morally justified. The show spent a very long time drilling into the viewer how morally reprehensible using the stone was, and it didn't try to make an exception for Mustang - you weren't supposed to like that he did that.

When I talk about these tropes, I do try to give them a fair chance and discuss the ways it can potentially work, but I really do want to reiterate that this particular trope really is best avoided. There are ways to make it work, but they will still leave a bad taste in many of your viewer's or reader's mouths and you have to be exceptionally careful with your wording and framing, not just in the scenes where this trope is used, but in the lead up. If you really must use it, I highly recommend getting a few disability sensitivity readers and/or consultants (yes, even if you are disabled yourself) to help you avoid some of the often overlooked pitfalls.

[seriesxwriting]

Soulmates

W Klaus Mikaelson <3

Warnings- swearing, flighting, kissing.

Series- the vampire diaries/ the originals

Summary- After being prisoner to mikael for a century your finally free and can find your soulmate again… once you’ve sorted out a few issues about why you left in the first place. Presuming the Mikealson’s don’t kill you first.

Recreating a post I deleted from when I first started writing<3

I’d just arrived in New Orleans. It had been a long ass time since I’d been here. It had been a century. I was here for only one reason. Id been dwelling on if it was a good idea or not for a while. It wasn’t, I’d probably lose my head as soon as I got into town. But I grew some balls and followed my heart. And that lead me to New Orleans.

I stepped off the train and just looked around for a second breathing in a deep breath of New Orleans air. I remember how this place looked since I was last here. It hadn’t changed much apart from the vending machines and new benches made of metal now.

Working up the courage, I left the train station and went into the square which wasn’t a long walk. It was kind of refreshing. Being back was scary almost but it was home, I knew I was risking a lot coming here but I had to. For myself, for him. I walked down to my favourite bar, I needed to be a little intoxicated before I faced him. Rousseau’s.

There it stood, proudly if anything. I’d missed this place. That feeling was very short lived as a hand tightened around my throat dragging me into an alley next to the bar. I struggled against them but could only use vampirism after I was out of sight from the humans. I elbowed the man but he managed to push me against the wall.

I looked up to see who it was and the colour left my face. “So it really is you” he scoffed shaking his head. “Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t removed your head and give it to him in a box?”. Elijah Mikaelson. Always a pleasure. “Get off me!” I hissed as the tears started forming in my eyes. He had never been hostile to me before. I’d only seen it when he was fighting his families enemies. Now I was an enemy of the Mikaelsons.

He threw me against the wall again after letting go of my neck. “I came to explain not fight” I scoffed rubbing my neck from the throbbing pain. “You shouldn’t have come here if you didn’t expect a fight” he mocked shaking his head. “I assumed it would be on the table” “why are you here? After what you did?” Elijah asked squinting his eyes at me.

“I didn’t do anything!” I hissed trying to contain my tears. “Will you hear me out or not?”. Elijah looked like he was debating it. “Fine I will hear you out but I can’t promise I won’t pull your heart out mid conversation” “I’m not a fool Elijah- I know you don’t trust me I know you don’t want to see me- he won’t want to either but I owe it to myself to explain what happened” I told him pushing off the wall now.

“Let’s have a drink shall we, be civil about this?”. He looked like he was holding back a laugh but he nodded his head once and then followed me into the bar. We took one of the back booths so we could talk without being heard or seen. “You look different” he told me sitting across from me. “You look worn out, skinnier” “where do you want me to start?” I asked swallowing, feeling even more intimidated now it was really happening.

“Start from the fire” he told me bluntly keeping his eyes on me. “1919, we were in the Oprah house” I began thinking back to that terrible night. “Klaus had gone to get our seats while I went to the bathroom, when I exited I saw a face that still horrifies me to this day” “mikael” Elijah exhaled as he began to realised there was much more to the story. “I ran to get away from him but he caught me quickly over powering me”.

“He told me all these things- everything he was planning on doing to klaus, I struggled but he was too strong” I shook my head as the tears started forming again. “He compelled me- to leave with him- compelled me to say what I said to Klaus- I told him I was done I was leaving and that i couldn’t stand the sight of him- those words rang in my head for years” I sniffed as the first tear fell down. “After that mikael snapped my neck and left me in the trunk of some car” I explained.

“He did what he did in New Orleans- and kept me prisoner for years on end, he thought he could use me to help find Klaus as I knew him so well- I refused and that’s when his violence appeared”. Elijah looked horrified. That was the only word to describe his face. He reached over to my hand and nodded sympathetically. “You can compel me if you don’t believe me” I made very clear.

Elijah shook his head vigorously “I believe you’ve had enough compelling to last you for a lifetime” he told me rubbing my hand gently. “I believe you y/n” “thank you Elijah, truly” i gasp nodding my head agreeing I’d had enough. “I’ve heard enough about mikael- how’d you escape”.

“He didn’t come back to where he left me for a while- I had the chance to escape with him gone, but I don’t know where he is- he must be looking for me” I shook my head not wanting to think about it. “He’s not” Elijah squeezed my hand as he plunged in abruptly. “He’s dead y/n, Klaus killed him”. I sat back in the chair as my eye brows knitted together.

A weight off my shoulder literally lifted off me and I felt as if i could breath again. The tears leaked out my eyes without permission as I laughed from happiness. Elijah moved round to my side and embraced me. It was nice having him back, he was always so caring towards me. I’d truly missed him. “It’s over y/n- you done it, your home- and I am so! So sorry that my father put you through that, that he turned us against you”.

“You weren’t to know” I shook my head not wanting an apology from him. “What happened? When I left- Klaus- what happened?” “He um…” Elijah started before his eyes drifted to the table. “He hasn’t been okay since” Elijah shook his head vigorously. He must have been thinking of the events because I practically saw them flashing in his eyes.

“I didn’t think he ever would be again” he smiled before looking at me. “But you both will- I assume that’s why your here” “I’m here to explain- I understand it’s been a long time- I don’t expect him to feel the same way about me now” “do you want to see him? I’ll take you to him- help you smooth things over” “yes please” I nodded feeling my heart patting against my chest. “I’d like that very much”.

“Let’s go” Elijah nodded with a smile getting up from the table. I was afraid to face Klaus. I knew what his temper was like, once upon a time I was the only one who could control it. Though I didn’t think now would be one of those times. Elijah walked me over to the house. I stopped at the threshold taking a deep breath. “It’s going to be fine” he whispered comforting me. But that was when I heard his voice.

“Brother! Bout time you were back we have business to discuss” klaus called out as we walked into the house. His back was turned to us and he was pouring two bourbons. “Yes brother, we do indeed” Elijah told him forwardly. “We have much to discuss”. With that Klaus turned around. His smirk dropped off his face as he locked eyes with me. How the hell do I feel right now? I didn’t know myself.

He clearly didn’t. It took a few seconds but his face hardened just as I remembered, just as I’d imagined it to do. “You were foolish to step into this house” he told me seriously. “Thank you for delivering her to me brother but I have no intention of looking at her for more than two seconds, your welcome to let her out” klaus crushed a glass in his hand. The glass scattered everywhere.

“I thought- you’d want me dead for sure” I told him in a wavy voice. “I want you dead believe me, I just don’t want to watch it” he frowned as his jaw locked together watching his cuts heal up. “Brother, I haven’t delivered y/n to you to inflict any sort of harm” Elijah stated making Klaus look at him with the hard look now. “Explain yourself now Elijah” his hand flew out and I saw his eyes getting watery. “You should sit down and let y/n explain herself” he nodded taking a step forward.

I guess he knew Klaus was about to attack him as that’s exactly what happened. Klaus vamp ran towards him knocking Elijah off his feet. Klaus turned to me, his eyes orange now. That was new. “Get out, before I change my mind” he told me without a wave of anything but anger. “Klaus please- that night didn’t go down how you think it went down” I told him with tears in my own eyes now.

“Don’t think you can lie your way out of this one” he scoffed, the veins seemed to run further down his eyes onto his cheeks as his teeth came out. He had another set now, that was new too. “Klaus, she’s not lying- she was compelled” Elijah explained as he stood back up fixing his suit. “Oh really and by who exac-.” Klaus trailed off as a moment of realisation hit him. “No” he shook his head as his eyes went back to normal and he took a step back.

He looked me up and down before shaking his head and walking off toward the bourbon again with his hand pointing out. “I will not hear these lies!” “I’m not lying- I’ve never lied to you” I told him confidently, it was working he was realising. “If so, why didn’t you come back? Why didn’t you look for me?” Klaus asked me with a frown. “Because you had no interest in it!”.

“I came as soon as I escaped from mikael- well- a week after- I was debating whether i should come or not, I wasn’t sure if you’d hear me out”. Klaus’s face dropped. “What do you mean… escaped from Mikel” he asked me walking slowly towards me. “He- he kept me prisoner, he wanted my help to find you” “he- no I would have known- I- no” klaus shook his head but I knew he was just in denial about it now.

I slid my hand up to his face. “Klaus, I never would have left you” I told him when his eyes landed on me. “You don’t have to believe me- I didn’t come and see you to make things go back to how they were I just- i couldn’t live with you thinking I hated you” I told him softly holding eye contact with me. I slowly took my hand away but he caught it holding it bringing it back up.

“He- hurt you?” “It’s over now Klaus I’m free” I shook my head not wanting to give any details. “He hurt you?” Klaus asked me again in a much more authoritative tone. I nodded losing eye contact with him drifting to the floor. Klaus moved forward wrapping his arms around me tighter than I’d ever felt a hug. He didn’t want to let go and I was okay with that.

“You two- you should talk, clear everything up” Elijah told us with a smile on his face. “It’s good to see you again y/n” he nodded before wondering out of the door. “Elijah!” I called out before he got too far. He turned innocently looking at me under his brothers arm. “Thank you- seriously thank you” I nodded with sad eyes. “Who am I to keep soulmates apart” he chuckled as he walked off backwards.

Klaus didn’t say anything more to me just led me to the sofa and looked at me. He scanned me for a minute or two. “Klaus- it’s me” “I know” he nodded still looking at me. “I’m savouring it” he answered a few seconds after. He was holding my hand and hadn’t let go since we sat down. “What do you want to know?” “Nothing gorgeous- I believe you, Mikael is a bastard always has been, I presume Elijah told you he’s dead”.

I nodded frantically. “I’m free” I smiled again as it really sank in the the nightmare was over. A hundred years later. “I’m tempted to bring him back so I can kill him again for the years he kept us apart”. “I’m glad you came- I’m glad you chose to come” he told me fiddling with my fingers. “So am I- I don’t- expect anything from you Klaus not for you to take me in, take me back, nothing, I have peace knowing you know the truth”.

“Y/n, You are the queen of New Orleans and you are never leaving my side again” klaus told me putting his hand on my cheek. “Does that mea- mean you’ll have me back?” “Your my always and forever” he chuckled kissing my hand softly. “I should have knew something was off- I should have looked for you” he tutted, I spotted a tear falling down his face. “No don’t do that” I warned him.

“Don’t not make this your fault- you were hurt and you had every right to be” “y/n I know you better than anyone- I should have known something was wrong” he clutched my hand to his chest. “Can we- stop talking about it please- we can tomorrow just…” “…it’s done- I just want to make up for lost time, my love” he brushed my cheek with my thumb.

“Then there’s no better way” I smiled as I moved my head towards his attaching his lips to mine. Klaus didn’t hesitate for a semi second. He was right there with me, we’re truly were soulmates. We moved like we were made for each other because we were. “Now, nothing can take you away from me” he whispered holding me close.

“I’ll never get tired of hearing you say that” I smiled putting my head in between his shoulders and neck. Klaus kissed my head gently. Heaven.

For more like this

Masterlist of masterlists

The vampire diaries Masterlist

Klaus Mikaelson Masterlist

[kaydens-agere]

Could I request something with cg!logan and fem!reader plss? Id love to see more of this on here 🫶🏻🫶🏻🫶🏻

Left Behind || Caregiver Logan Howlett x Fem Little Reader!!

Hii thank you for the request :D Sorry this took a bit lol I've had work to do for my baking course but here it is, I hope you like it!!

Logan groans as he stretches out on the bed. He's had yet another long mission today and he's completely exhausted. It's nearing 2am and he's ready to crash for the night.

However, before he can completely relax, he hears a quiet knock on his door. He can tell it's you because he picks up on your scent, and he can also tell that you're little. Your scent changes depending on your headspace. It's a very specific scent that's hard for Logan to put into words.

He quickly gets up from his bed and opens the door. You're standing in his doorway, looking up at him with big eyes, paci in your mouth and a big fluffy blanket dragging across the ground. He's surprised that you're even up this late, you're usually well and truly asleep by now.

Logan's surprised expression softens as he sees you whine and do grabby hands at him, wanting to be picked up.

"Hey, sweetheart." he says softly as he picks you up.

"Hi, daddy." you reply softly, struggling to talk a bit around your paci. You gently nestle into his shoulder.

"What're you doing here, hm? I thought you'd be asleep by now." he gives you a small bounce and carries you into his room. You let out a hum, thinking about what you're going to say, before replying.

"Was waiting for you." you say quietly. "Missed you."

His heart ached a little when he heard your response. He hates leaving you behind when he has missions, especially when you're little. You try not to show it, but he knows how much you miss him. He can smell the fear on you whenever he says goodbye.

"Oh, honey. I missed you too." he says softly, putting his forehead against yours. "You have no idea how much I've missed my little girl."

He starts peppering you with kisses, you let out giggles and squeals as he does so.

"Awww, you like daddy's kisses, don't you?" He says before gently booping your nose.

You grin up at him and nod, but he can tell that somethings off. You're clinging onto him and being less vocal than you normally are, whether it's actual words or just babbles and sounds. It concerns him.

"You're holding on pretty tight there, honeybee." he teases gently.

He playful smirk turns into a frown as he hears a small whine escape your lips before you cling on even tighter.

"I'm sorry sweetie, I was only joking. You know I don't mind you clinging."

"That's not whats wrong." you murmur, your voice muffled from your head being tucked into the crook of his neck.

"What's wrong then, angel?" he asks gently, reaching one of his hands up to pet your hair.

Despite your voice being quiet and muffled, he can understand the next six words you say loud and clear;

"I don't want you to leave me again."

Those words send guilt right through him, he holds onto you a little tighter and sits on the bed with you in his lap. He hears a sniffle, which sends another pang of guilt through his chest. He starts to gently rock you in his arms to try and calm you down before speaking.

"I'm not going anywhere tonight, baby girl. Daddy's gonna stay right here, okay?" he presses a kiss to your forehead. "I hate leaving you for so long, I think about you a lot while I'm gone, y'know." he says gently.

You both sit in comfortable silence for a little while with Logan gently rubbing his hand up and down your back, whispering sweet nothings in your ear. You eventually calm down and speak up again.

"What if you get called out again tonight?" you look up and him as your lip starts to quiver.

"Oh baby, if I get called out tonight, I'm sure as hell not going anywhere. Not only do I have you to take care of, which I've been looking forward to all damn day, but I'm also tired and sore. Daddy needs his rest." he reassures you.

"You don' have to look after me if you wan' rest." you say quietly.

"This is my rest, baby girl. I love looking after you while you're small, helps me heal just as much as it helps you." he brings his hand up to your cheek.

You shift in his lap to lay back against his chest, sighing softly.

"Thank you, daddy." you say quietly. "I love you."

'He runs his hand through your hair again and gently pulls your blanket over you.

"I love you too, baby. I love you so much." he gently kisses your forehead.

You let out a yawn and settle down more into his lap. He chuckles as he watches you get comfortable.

"You getting tired there, bub?" he asks you quietly. You nod and let out another big yawn.

"Get some sleep, sweetie." he says gently.

Your eyes slowly close as you drift off into a peaceful sleep, laying safely in Logan's lap.

[moonrisecoeur]

contentment - leon kennedy

a/n: this is just me, a dom lady, rambling about leon. idk which leon this is… maybe re4? maybe id? who knows

content: sub leon, afab reader, no pronouns, oral (reader receiving), reader orgasm, manhandling (of leon), degradation, praise, obsessiveness (both), worship, let me know if i missed any!

wc: 3.5k

 —

leon’s hands wrap around your waist as he sighs into the kiss, interlocking behind your back. a part of you wonders if this is his way of telling you all the things he doesn’t want to or can’t say out loud. does wrapping his arms around you (trapping you for all intents and purposes) translate to something like ‘please don’t leave me’? you think you might be right because he seems nervous, and he’s never nervous when kissing you. kissing you makes him not nervous. he’s not shy like he used to be.

he was, once upon a time, when he was a rookie and when he was young and fragile and innocent. maybe then he would have blushed and felt nervous when you kissed him. he likes to think he’s matured since then. that may not be incredibly accurate.

he thinks he’s changed, but you seem to believe that deep down, he’s still that soft, fragile person. maybe you’re right. maybe he hasn’t changed at all.

your lips start to slip away from his, moving towards his neck as you use your hand to hold his jaw exactly how you want, manipulating him into just the right position for whatever you plan to do with him. your other hand is wrapped around him, gripping his shoulder for stability. part of him is glad you find stability in him, that he’s provided something of use to you.

sometimes he worries he plays too much of a passive role in your relationship, he thinks about all the expectations he has of himself and how he thinks he should act around you.

….but then again, no one who’s upset about having to do everything, enjoys doing everything as thoroughly as you do. he decided that you just prefer giving, leaving hickeys and touching all over him. you crave reactions, whether verbal or physical. you want to see an effect, the effect you have. so he shows you the effect you have on him. he sometimes feels his life purpose is giving you everything you want. 

your lips touch the sweet skin of his neck, but your sharp teeth puncture it. he hisses, body tensing in an almost comfortable sensation of pain.

something deep inside of his soul is mournful at the idea that he has only been able to find comfort in the burning, aching, stabbing, searing sensations that come with pain, because they’re familiar and numbing. only those things bring him back to baseline: moderately miserable.

and yet, he finds himself even more soothed by the way you’re sucking on the skin around the bite and leaving apologetic kisses behind in between. not that you should really have to apologize. leon certainly wasn’t in a place to be expecting apologies when he’s enjoying this so damn much.

plus the cherry on top was always you pulling back to admire your work, maybe even a drop of blood on the corner of your lip. you touch a finger to the sensitive skin, and he doesn’t give a verbal reaction, but he felt it, noticing how tender he’s becoming under your control.

“i think you could stand to have a couple more love bites, don’t you?” you ask him, but it’s obvious how you feel. you’re not really asking him because you want his input, you know his answer.

and he does, because under his tall, dark persona, he is a fragile mess of a man and he’s painfully infatuated with you.

“yeah…” he groans, your hand resting on his neck is distracting at best and dizzying at worst. part of him is screaming at you to just tighten your grip. he thinks it would be super hot if you were just a little bit meaner to him. 

“leon,” you whisper in his ear, unintentionally bringing him back to reality.

“yeah?” he responds back, just as low as you. he’s not nervous; he’s never nervous around you, but something in his voice feels.. smaller than usual.

you choose not to push. not now.

“i love you,” you tell him, “thought you might want a reminder, just in case you forgot.”

“i’m not that forgetful,” he laughs, but you see the smile on his face. he never really has a big smile, usually just a faint smirk or a small grin, “i love you.” he says, emphasizing the word ‘you’.

you’ve always known of your feelings for leon. they hit you fast and hard and immediately, like every moment spent in his presence was accompanied by thousands of butterflies aching in your stomach. loving him is an ache in your chest that never quite goes away.,

leon describes his feelings towards you differently. he doesn’t love hard, he loves deeply. him falling for you was a slow maneuver, a quiet and calm descent into a form of madness. he loves from behind the scenes, caring endlessly, but it’s not loud or in your face.

your love is infatuation and ache, his love is protection and devotion. you both love differently but not any more or less.

his love is expressed in how he holds you, hands shifting from being interlocked behind your back to holding onto your hips. translating this moment gives you the impression he’s saying ‘if you don’t do something to me in the next 10 seconds, i’m gonna go insane’.

he groans impatiently as you run your hands across his chest. you almost can’t believe how good you’ve gotten at reading him. although, you can’t take all the credit; he doesn’t exactly make it difficult.

“you’re so easy to rile up,” you say to him with a giggle, a teasing tone laced in your voice. he eats it up, as usual.

he lets out a deep and pathetic groan, “god, you-” one of his fists balls up, pulling away for just a second. he’s slowly unwinding, slowly losing self control.

it was exactly what you wanted. right from the moment you met him, you wanted leon fucking obsessed with you. it was the only way to create some kind of balance in a relationship in which one person was painfully infatuated and one person was (seemingly) unaffected. you wanted him to spend every moment of every day thinking about you, wanting you. that would only make it fair to you, considering how every thought is about him.

turns out the universe gave you exactly what you wanted because leon is everything you crave and so much more. sure, it’s miserable when he has to leave, but he comes back so desperate for you, with maybe millimeters of self control left in his body. he graciously give you a few seconds to recognize what’s happening before he presses the most hasty and desiring kisses to your lips with his hands grasping for anything he can get them on.

in short: he’s obsessed. just how you like him.

even looking at himself now, he notices all the little physical effects of you. the rope burns on his wrists, the bruises from your mouth on his neck, collarbone, thighs, fucking everywhere. he’s almost nervous for when he has a full week off and you take the opportunity to consume him completely.

“what do you wanna do?” you ask, softly. this time it’s a genuine question. he seems kind of out-of-it and you don’t want to push him further than he should go right now.

“can… can you- uh, well, what do you want me to do?”

you shake your head, almost disappointed but not surprised, “no, don’t do that, you know i don’t like that,” you say, hands resting on his waist, fingers brushing against the cotton material of his t-shirt.

what exactly did you not like? him deferring to what you want? not voicing his wants or needs? him trying so damn hard to cater to you? you berate yourself for the harshness of your words as he stands before you, silent but with soft, inquisitive eyes.

“i’m sorry,” you murmur, pressing an apologetic kiss to his lips that he accepts gladly, pulling away just to whisper, “tell me what you want. i’ll give you anything.”

“want you,” he whispers back, but it’s so obvious that you could roll your eyes, “maybe i could.. give you head?”

“yeah?” you groan at the thought of the image of putting him on his knees, pulling his long hair as he gladly puts his mouth to better use. you’d call him a desperate and pathetic mess and he’d adore it, groaning and whimpering against you, begging and pleading for something he’s not quite sure of. maybe he’ll notice the bruises on his knees when he showers in the morning. a nice little surprise for tomorrow.

“can tell you like that idea by that look on your face,” he grins, and you wonder if he can read you just as well as you can read him. you bring a hand up to his jaw, caressing the sweet skin with your thumb, and he hums.

his fingers dance impatiently along your sides as you get lost in your internal fantasy and briefly forgetting the man in front of you.

“hey, if you keep undressing me with your eyes, i’m going to catch a cold,” he jokes, and you hate that you laughed at one of his corny one-liners again.

you pull at the edges of his t-shirt, not moving to take it off (you’re certain you don’t have time to do everything you want to him right now, gotta save that for another time) but instead just rest your hands on his bare waist, leaning closer to him and resting your head on his shoulder, and closing your eyes. you inhale his scent in and really take in the moment with him, fleeting and innocent. he’s here. he’s here with you and not out somewhere saving the world.

that’s probably leon’s biggest weakness: his goodness. he’s always caring, always helping, always trying so fucking hard. screw saving the world, you care that he makes it home safe to you. he’s learned to be less reckless only at your request.

“get on your knees,” you say, suddenly, shockingly. leon was clearly in some other universe when you spoke those words to him, judging by him jumping a bit at your sudden command. it’s not one he hesitates to give in to, because he takes a small step back and falls to his knees immediately. 

you discard your pants and underwear, throwing them to some unimportant corner of the room. you get up close to him, so close that if he just leaned in a little more, he could taste you. but he’s learned that while you wouldn’t stop him nor say anything if he moved to devour you then and there, there’s something else you like more. if he holds back and begs for it, for you, for you to use him to get yourself off without any regards for him or his pleasure (he could get off just watching you cum but that’s besides the point), you’d go crazy. he likes you crazy. 

oh, the look you’d give him. he can picture it. you’d roll your eyes to the side, covering your mouth with the back of your hand. he loves to watch you lose yourself in the fantasy that builds in your head, the intense power trip you get is so plainly displayed on your face.

he loves it. loves watching you lose your cool, slipping from funny and goofy and sarcastic to fiery and dominant and uncontrollable. it’s like all those fantasy books that describe eyes getting darker with desire, that would be you. he sees how badly you crave him. serves you fucking right for taking up so much space in his head.

“use me,” he groans, and you silently caress his face with your hand, letting your thumb drag against his lips, pulling the bottom one down slightly before retreating.

“yeah?” you whisper, running your fingers through his hair. so long and pretty, so perfect for pulling.

the motion had stunned him briefly, but his confidence returns just after, “use me and grind against my face, pull my hair so i cry out in pain for you,” he knows you like that, given by the weakness on your face. you’re cracking. he’s got you, “take what you want from me, and leave me a desperate mess. please.”

the voice crack he lets out when pleading for you wasn’t intentional, but not unwelcome, because you really seem to like it.

there it is. the look.

your eyes roll to the side before centering on him, darkening just as he imagined.

“fuck, babe,” you groan, your voice raspy as your head fills with possible images of him, but you stop yourself from daydreaming. not when leon was right in front of you, begging you to be selfish and take what you want from him. so, you let yourself be selfish.

your fingers in his hair grasp tightly at the strands, and he gasps before being thrust between your legs.

“you’re such a fucking slut, baby, god- i love it,” you say as he gets right to work, lapping up the juices of your wet pussy with vigor and brushing his nose against your clit. your legs give out for a second, but he grips your thighs to steady you. even in this high of being between your legs, he’s still looking out for you, as always.

something in his stomach burns when you say that word. s-l-u-t. his ego hates it because it couldn’t be further from the truth. if anything he was just a little promiscuous. who was that really hurting?

but his dick apparently loves it when he’s being degraded, because he feels it twitch in his pants.

he moans while eating you out, intentionally most of the time, because 1) you like it when he’s vocal and 2) the vibrations of his voice against you feel immensely good. but the whimpers are never intentional. you pull especially tightly on his blonde hair, and he cries out in a temporary pain.

he thinks he likes servicing you more than you doing anything for him because it makes him feel useful to you, and it’s easier to let himself be loved when he can justify it to himself. it may not be the healthiest way to go about his relationship but nothing compares to the high of being called your-

“good, good fucking boy, leon, shit-” you gasp, eyebrows furrowing as you close your eyes, grip on his hair tightening, “let me go real quick, i need to be laying down for this.” he does and you stumble backwards into his bed. if you wouldn’t slap it off his face, he’d smirk at how affected you seem already. instead, he just internalizes your praise, letting it stick to him and hoping it never leaves, “well? what are you waiting for? come finish what you started.”

he stands to walk over, kneeling down again by the edge of the bed and leaning his head down back to your pussy, picking up where he left off. except this time your legs are wrapped around his head.he thinks he could die here and die happy. 

“god, leon, fuck,” you mutter, briefly wondering if he was actually the god you were calling out to, if he was the answer to all of your prayers towards the universe. if the horrors you had to face was the price to pay for a god to be worshiping you on his knees, a literal god, then it would have been worth it ten times over.

you muse over what kind of god leon would be. in his infinite goodness, perhaps he’d have been a merciful, kind god, granting serenity and happiness wherever he touched. which was ironic, considering he didn’t ever touch those emotions with his own hands, unless yours was holding his.

he works silently, but tirelessly, feeling himself get fatigued but pushing past the feeling until you tell him to stop. you use your grip on his hair to manipulate his mouth to exactly where you need it.

“you’re so good, so fucking good to me,” you say, playing with the shorter hairs at the base of his neck, then dragging your nails against his neck and scalp.

even though the gesture is not a foreign one, you physically feel him shiver and twitch beneath your hands. he curses under his breath.

talk about a fucking power trip. how were you not supposed to be a narcissist when leon crumbled beneath you at the simplest things?

“you-! fuck, use your teeth, baby. don’t be gentle,” you tell him. he does like hurting you, but he still does it, begrudgingly loving the desperate sounds you make. you cry out, readjusting your tight grip on his hair, and he can’t stop his hand coming up to your outer thigh, resting gently, reassuringly, and apologetically. isn’t it funny that he did what you told him to and yet he’s trying to apologize?

“leon,” you catch his attention, and he worries you’re about to tell him to remove his hand. he would, but it would sadden him, “make me cum,” you order, and that’s more his speed. a command. a mission. something he can fulfill a purpose with, something quantifiable for him to use to justify to himself that he deserves you.

so he sets out to complete that mission. he fucks you with his tongue, breathing heavy and nose rubbing against your clit rhythmically. his hand on your leg doesn’t move, still gentle and he even uses his thumb to caress the skin of your thigh. he’s copying your chosen method of comfort, like how you did when you gently held his jaw, soothing him with your touch on his cheek.

while leon is your god, you are his. he worships the ground you walk on, abiding to your will, giving in to you. you would never (because what has he ever done in his life to deserve it?) but you could walk all over him and he’d grin and bear it. he’d take it. even enjoy being of use to you.

he looks up at you, angel eyes as always. sometimes you forget that behind his harsh features, like his furrowed eyebrows and usual frown, his eyes are the softest, lightest blue. like the calm waters that lure you into a false sense of security. he could be a siren, luring you in for the kill, and you’d let him do it.

you look down at him, power and dominance exuding out of you. leon crumbles under the intensity of your gaze, breath hitching as he gives you his all, because he always is. when is he not giving you his everything? you could ask him to rip his heart out of his chest for you. and, ironically, he’d do it in a heartbeat.

he pushes you over the edge, and you feel it hit you like the waves of the waters of his eyes, the oceans that surround you when he’s near, drowning you in his touch and fire and soul. it envelops you, the warmth spreading throughout your body as you grind against his face, intent on getting the most out of one measly orgasm as possible. he lets you use him, because using him means you want him and need him and that’s all he could ever ask, ever crave.

you let go of him, the force pushing him back sitting on his heels. you motion for him to get up and lay with you with your hand, and he follows. you feel his strong arms hold you close and your bodies collide into one. you look at him, his lips swollen and the wetness of your orgasm covers his chin and nose, but he licks it off of his lips, making an erotic amount of eye contact.

“you don’t have to go,” you whisper to him, voice suddenly softer than before. you wish, considering how good he was at listening to you most of the time, that he conceded. he doesn't.

but he does. he has a few precious hours left before he has to leave. he doesn’t want to, but he knows better than to go against the people that threaten the lives of those he holds dear. he thinks about sherry for a moment. he thinks about claire, and ada, and you. 

he has to go. and he has to come back. for you. he never used to care whether or not he made it out alive during missions, but now that he knows you’re waiting patiently for him, he can’t ever let you down, ever let you feel that pain.

he won’t leave. not permanently, at least. 

[grimreaperschild]

guitar practice

summary: wednesday always seems to put someone or something above you, luckily her roommate is always there to pick up the pieces

warnings: angst

a/n: i might make this into a series i’ve got some good ideas, thank you for all the support on my last post !

“wednesdays child is full of woe” you supposed that should be her mantra as you lock eyes over the top of your guitar, your not sure when your gothic girlfriend started pulling away but recently she’d been spending more and more time investigating with tyler galpin you haven’t spent time in your studio together in months her usually ditching your practice time in favour of gallivanting around the woods but not today.

today she sits dutifully at your side as you tune your beloved instrument, eyes never leaving the side of your face it’s starting to get difficult to hide the blush creeping up your neck so before you’ve even thought about what your doing you turn “do i have something on my face?” inwardly cringing as it comes out harsher than intended, she hums ignoring your last statement “would you accompany me to the weathervane after practice? i’d like to” she sucks air in through her teeth narrowing her eyes “i’d like to take you on, a date.” she nods her head seeming satisfied with herself.

you freeze a lopsided grin stretching across your face “id love to nes” she hums in response again stretching out her fingers to meet yours, still on the tuning pegs she ghosts her fingers up your arm and bumps your cheek with her knuckles affectionately “my investigation has hit a wall and i suppose it has been a while since we had some time together” you freeze again, but this time not in a good way heat and anger flush through you at the statement “ah so you only want to spend time with me when you’ve got nothing else to do?” she removes her hand quickly “y/n we have spoken about how important my investigation is, must you spend the time i give you acting like a spoilt child” you sit stunned at her words

anger.

betrayal?

hurt ?

they all blend together as you stand your guitar falling out of your lap and onto the floor with a painfully loud clatter, tears blur your vision as you look at her passive face unblinking, no, uncaring “really wednesday im a spoilt child for wanting you to spend time with your girlfriend? you think i enjoy you running off with tyler all the time? no. but i try to trust you no matter what my head tells me” your voice breaks and you take a sharp breath in refusing to let her see you break.

you take a step back not breaking eye contact with her

“must you be so dramatic y/n?”

you don’t dignify her with an answer taking another step, she still hasn’t moved you let out a dry chuckle “let me know when i move up your list of priorities” with that you turn on your heel and all but sprint from the room tears rolling down your cheeks.

your not sure where your legs are bringing you until your in front of a familiar dorm wednesday and enid’s room, enid. you knock quickly hearing the pop music pause the door swings open revealing the bubbly werwolf you watch her face brighten then fall at the sight of you, throwing yourself into her arms you choke out a sob her arms instantly coming around you rubbing soothing circles in your back “y/n what happened, talk to me comon let’s get you inside” walking backwards not breaking the hug she flings the door shut.

you rush though the explanation as she picks out one of her biggest hoodies for you to change into, your sat on her bed by the time she finally decides what clothes to give you “she doesn’t deserve you n/n” enid sighs as she pads over to you wiping at your tear stained cheeks with her thumbs “your staying with me tonight i don’t want you feeling like this alone get changed and get into bed” you comply happily and when you come out of the bathroom sporting the pink fluffy sweatshirt and pink mini shorts she cheers and opens her arms wide for you, you settle against her tucking your head under her chin and for a second you think maybe tyler can have wednesday if this is how it’s going to stay.

[the-banana-0verlord]

Love

Requested by @angeltreesunshine (i don't take requests anymore btw). You didn't specify which characters but you did send the request on my overblot malleus blog so i included him. I also included kalim because he was the one i had most ideas for. I really hope you enjoy!

Cw: i realized half-way through i wasn't comfortable with writing yandere that aren't ocs or canon yanderes anymore so there's that, possibly ooc, yandere stuff, implied kidnapping, obsession, reader has a mental breakdown.

Reader is gender neutral

🕯🕯🕯

Love.

It's a wonderful feeling, right? To look at someone in the eyes and think "I wish to spend the rest of my life with them."

But you knew better. You knew the truth about it. How it clawed at your chest, ripping your heart to shreds. How it left you broken beyond repair. What a wretched thing.

So why did he have to come in? Why did he have to appear in your life, bringing in the doomed butterflies?

"Why....why..." you uttered between sobs, your legs giving in as you slid down the wall behind you. The deserted courtyard could only echo your words. Tears as black as ink(or was it really ink? You didn't really know or care at this point) rolled down your cheeks.

"I wish I could just erase my feelings... I'm not cut out for love... Why can't it just go away!?" You cried aloud

Not knowing he was there, hearing your every word.

🕯🕯🕯

Malleus Draconia

How intriguing you were. Unafraid of him but terrified of love, the very thing he longed for. Yes, how truly intriguing.

The sound of his heels resonated closer and closer to you until he was standing in front of you, his shadow cast over your crouching body. He kneeled down at your level.

"Well well well, what do we have here?" He whispered, placing a strand of loose hair behind your ear. You looked up quickly, confused and panicked. In your sorrow, you hadn't noticed him arriving. He gently wiped your tears away with his thumb, leaving a dark stain. He was smiling, but there was no warmth to it.

"Wh-what are you doing?!" you spoke out, voice hoarse from crying.

"Shh..." he answered simply.

He took you in his arms and stood up again. He grabbed your hand and put it on his cheek.

"Look at us, what poor souls we are. Doomed to a life of unfortunate affection. How better would it be if we lived it together?"

You protested:

"Don't say that. It would only make it worse. I'm not sharing my life with anyone, even id it's you."

Especially if it's you.

Malleus brought your hand to his heart, this time. You could feel it thumping even through his thick dorm uniform.

"Do you feel it beat? It beats for you, my dear. No matter what. No matter if you don't want me. But you do. You're only scared. You'll see we're meant to be."

Green lights started forming around the both of you. As it began to cover you entirely, he brought his face close to yours.

That night, you disappeared from Night Raven College. You would learn to love Malleus, and you would stay together for eternity.

🕯🕯🕯

Kalim Al-Asim

Afraid of love? How could that be possible?! Love was the best feeling in the world! It made you all warm and fuzzy inside. It made his body catch on fire whenever he saw you.

So when he witnessed you all broken down in tears on the ground... It made him ache. He just had to show you how beautiful it was!

After that night, his behavior changed oh-so slightly. His usual clinginess became even more overwhelming. He wanted to spend every minute with you, and he was always either hugging you or holding your hand. You would also get showered with all kinds of presents.

It made you more uncomfortable than ever. Your skin crawled everytime his fingertips were laid on you. Your body had a natural knee-jerking, stomach-churning reaction to his dreaded affection. You tried to avoid him as much as you could, but it never seemed to work. He would always find you, wherever, whenever.

If he kept on like this, you wouls get used to it, right? Just like how people cured their arachnophobia by looking at pictures of spiders. It would work, Kalim was sure of it.

And before you knew it, a golden cage had formed around you.

🕯🕯🕯

I hope you have a good day/night!

[mostlysignssomeportents]

Algorithmic feeds are a twiddler’s playground

Next TUESDAY (May 14), I'm on a livecast about AI AND ENSHITTIFICATION with TIM O'REILLY; on WEDNESDAY (May 15), I'm in NORTH HOLLYWOOD with HARRY SHEARER for a screening of STEPHANIE KELTON'S FINDING THE MONEY; FRIDAY (May 17), I'm at the INTERNET ARCHIVE in SAN FRANCISCO to keynote the 10th anniversary of the AUTHORS ALLIANCE.

Like Oscar Wilde, "I can resist anything except temptation," and my slow and halting journey to adulthood is really just me grappling with this fact, getting temptation out of my way before I can yield to it.

Behavioral economists have a name for the steps we take to guard against temptation: a "Ulysses pact." That's when you take some possibility off the table during a moment of strength in recognition of some coming moment of weakness:

https://archive.org/details/decentralizedwebsummit2016-corydoctorow

Famously, Ulysses did this before he sailed into the Sea of Sirens. Rather than stopping his ears with wax to prevent his hearing the sirens' song, which would lure him to his drowning, Ulysses has his sailors tie him to the mast, leaving his ears unplugged. Ulysses became the first person to hear the sirens' song and live to tell the tale.

Ulysses was strong enough to know that he would someday be weak. He expressed his strength by guarding against his weakness. Our modern lives are filled with less epic versions of the Ulysses pact: the day you go on a diet, it's a good idea to throw away all your Oreos. That way, when your blood sugar sings its siren song at 2AM, it will be drowned out by the rest of your body's unwillingness to get dressed, find your keys and drive half an hour to the all-night grocery store.

Note that this Ulysses pact isn't perfect. You might drive to the grocery store. It's rare that a Ulysses pact is unbreakable – we bind ourselves to the mast, but we don't chain ourselves to it and slap on a pair of handcuffs for good measure.

People who run institutions can – and should – create Ulysses pacts, too. A company that holds the kind of sensitive data that might be subjected to "sneak-and-peek" warrants by cops or spies can set up a "warrant canary":

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Warrant_canary

This isn't perfect. A company that stops publishing regular transparency reports might have been compromised by the NSA, but it's also possible that they've had a change in management and the new boss just doesn't give a shit about his users' privacy:

https://www.fastcompany.com/90853794/twitters-transparency-reporting-has-tanked-under-elon-musk

Likewise, a company making software it wants users to trust can release that code under an irrevocable free/open software license, thus guaranteeing that each release under that license will be free and open forever. This is good, but not perfect: the new boss can take that free/open code down a proprietary fork and try to orphan the free version:

https://news.ycombinator.com/item?id=39772562

A company can structure itself as a public benefit corporation and make a binding promise to elevate its stakeholders' interests over its shareholders' – but the CEO can still take a secret $100m bribe from cryptocurrency creeps and try to lure those stakeholders into a shitcoin Ponzi scheme:

https://fortune.com/crypto/2024/03/11/kickstarter-blockchain-a16z-crypto-secret-investment-chris-dixon/

A key resource can be entrusted to a nonprofit with a board of directors who are charged with stewarding it for the benefit of a broad community, but when a private equity fund dangles billions before that board, they can talk themselves into a belief that selling out is the right thing to do:

https://www.eff.org/deeplinks/2020/12/how-we-saved-org-2020-review

Ulysses pacts aren't perfect, but they are very important. At the very least, creating a Ulysses pact starts with acknowledging that you are fallible. That you can be tempted, and rationalize your way into taking bad action, even when you know better. Becoming an adult is a process of learning that your strength comes from seeing your weaknesses and protecting yourself and the people who trust you from them.

Which brings me to enshittification. Enshittification is the process by which platforms betray their users and their customers by siphoning value away from each until the platform is a pile of shit:

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Enshittification

Enshittification is a spectrum that can be applied to many companies' decay, but in its purest form, enshittification requires:

a) A platform: a two-sided market with business customers and end users who can be played off against each other; b) A digital back-end: a market that can be easily, rapidly and undetectably manipulated by its owners, who can alter search-rankings, prices and costs on a per-user, per-query basis; and c) A lack of constraint: the platform's owners must not fear a consequence for this cheating, be it from competitors, regulators, workforce resignations or rival technologists who use mods, alternative clients, blockers or other "adversarial interoperability" tools to disenshittify your product and sever your relationship with your users.

he founders of tech platforms don't generally set out to enshittify them. Rather, they are constantly seeking some equilibrium between delivering value to their shareholders and turning value over to end users, business customers, and their own workers. Founders are consummate rationalizers; like parenting, founding a company requires continuous, low-grade self-deception about the amount of work involved and the chances of success. A founder, confronted with the likelihood of failure, is absolutely capable of talking themselves into believing that nearly any compromise is superior to shuttering the business: "I'm one of the good guys, so the most important thing is for me to live to fight another day. Thus I can do any number of immoral things to my users, business customers or workers, because I can make it up to them when we survive this crisis. It's for their own good, even if they don't know it. Indeed, I'm doubly moral here, because I'm volunteering to look like the bad guy, just so I can save this business, which will make the world over for the better":

https://locusmag.com/2024/05/cory-doctorow-no-one-is-the-enshittifier-of-their-own-story/

(En)shit(tification) flows downhill, so tech workers grapple with their own version of this dilemma. Faced with constant pressure to increase the value flowing from their division to the company, they have to balance different, conflicting tactics, like "increasing the number of users or business customers, possibly by shifting value from the company to these stakeholders in the hopes of making it up in volume"; or "locking in my existing stakeholders and squeezing them harder, safe in the knowledge that they can't easily leave the service provided the abuse is subtle enough." The bigger a company gets, the harder it is for it to grow, so the biggest companies realize their gains by locking in and squeezing their users, not by improving their service::

https://pluralistic.net/2023/07/28/microincentives-and-enshittification/

That's where "twiddling" comes in. Digital platforms are extremely flexible, which comes with the territory: computers are the most flexible tools we have. This means that companies can automate high-speed, deceptive changes to the "business logic" of their platforms – what end users pay, how much of that goes to business customers, and how offers are presented to both:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/02/19/twiddler/

This kind of fraud isn't particularly sophisticated, but it doesn't have to be – it just has to be fast. In any shell-game, the quickness of the hand deceives the eye:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/03/26/glitchbread/#electronic-shelf-tags

Under normal circumstances, this twiddling would be constrained by counterforces in society. Changing the business rules like this is fraud, so you'd hope that a regulator would step in and extinguish the conduct, fining the company that engaged in it so hard that they saw a net loss from the conduct. But when a sector gets very concentrated, its mega-firms capture their regulators, becoming "too big to jail":

https://pluralistic.net/2022/06/05/regulatory-capture/

Thus the tendency among the giant tech companies to practice the one lesson of the Darth Vader MBA: dismissing your stakeholders' outrage by saying, "I am altering the deal. Pray I don't alter it any further":

https://pluralistic.net/2023/10/26/hit-with-a-brick/#graceful-failure

Where regulators fail, technology can step in. The flexibility of digital platforms cuts both ways: when the company enshittifies its products, you can disenshittify it with your own countertwiddling: third-party ink-cartridges, alternative app stores and clients, scrapers, browser automation and other forms of high-tech guerrilla warfare:

https://www.eff.org/deeplinks/2019/10/adversarial-interoperability

But tech giants' regulatory capture have allowed them to expand "IP rights" to prevent this self-help. By carefully layering overlapping IP rights around their products, they can criminalize the technology that lets you wrestle back the value they've claimed for themselves, creating a new offense of "felony contempt of business model":

https://locusmag.com/2020/09/cory-doctorow-ip/

A world where users must defer to platforms' moment-to-moment decisions about how the service operates, without the protection of rival technology or regulatory oversight is a world where companies face a powerful temptation to enshittify.

That's why we've seen so much enshittification in platforms that algorithmically rank their feeds, from Google and Amazon search to Facebook and Twitter feeds. A search engine is always going to be making a judgment call about what the best result for your search should be. If a search engine is generally good at predicting which results will please you best, you'll return to it, automatically clicking the first result ("I'm feeling lucky").

This means that if a search engine slips in the odd paid result at the top of the results, they can exploit your trusting habits to shift value from you to their investors. The congifurability of a digital service means that they can sprinkle these frauds into their services on a random schedule, making them hard to detect and easy to dismiss as lapses. Gradually, this acquires its own momentum, and the platform becomes addicted to lowering its own quality to raise its profits, and you get modern Google, which cynically lowered search quality to increase search volume:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/04/24/naming-names/#prabhakar-raghavan

And you get Amazon, which makes $38 billion every year, accepting bribes to replace its best search results with paid results for products that cost more and are of lower quality:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/11/06/attention-rents/#consumer-welfare-queens

Social media's enshittification followed a different path. In the beginning, social media presented a deterministic feed: after you told the platform who you wanted to follow, the platform simply gathered up the posts those users made and presented them to you, in reverse-chronological order.

This presented few opportunities for enshittification, but it wasn't perfect. For users who were well-established on a platform, a reverse-chrono feed was an ungovernable torrent, where high-frequency trivialities drowned out the important posts from people whose missives were buried ten screens down in the updates since your last login.

For new users who didn't yet follow many people, this presented the opposite problem: an empty feed, and the sense that you were all alone while everyone else was having a rollicking conversation down the hall, in a room you could never find.

The answer was the algorithmic feed: a feed of recommendations drawn from both the accounts you followed and strangers alike. Theoretically, this could solve both problems, by surfacing the most important materials from your friends while keeping you abreast of the most important and interesting activity beyond your filter bubble. For many of us, this promise was realized, and algorithmic feeds became a source of novelty and relevance.

But these feeds are a profoundly tempting enshittification target. The critique of these algorithms has largely focused on "addictiveness" and the idea that platforms would twiddle the knobs to increase the relevance of material in your feed to "hack your engagement":

https://www.theguardian.com/technology/2018/mar/04/has-dopamine-got-us-hooked-on-tech-facebook-apps-addiction

Less noticed – and more important – was how platforms did the opposite: twiddling the knobs to remove things from your feed that you'd asked to see or that the algorithm predicted you'd enjoy, to make room for "boosted" content and advertisements:

https://www.reddit.com/r/Instagram/comments/z9j7uy/what_happened_to_instagram_only_ads_and_accounts/

Users were helpless before this kind of twiddling. On the one hand, they were locked into the platform – not because their dopamine had been hacked by evil tech-bro wizards – but because they loved the friends they had there more than they hated the way the service was run:

https://locusmag.com/2023/01/commentary-cory-doctorow-social-quitting/

On the other hand, the platforms had such an iron grip on their technology, and had deployed IP so cleverly, that any countertwiddling technology was instantaneously incinerated by legal death-rays:

https://techcrunch.com/2022/10/10/google-removes-the-og-app-from-the-play-store-as-founders-think-about-next-steps/

Newer social media platforms, notably Tiktok, dispensed entirely with deterministic feeds, defaulting every user into a feed that consisted entirely of algorithmic picks; the people you follow on these platforms are treated as mere suggestions by their algorithms. This is a perfect breeding-ground for enshittification: different parts of the business can twiddle the knobs to override the algorithm for their own parochial purposes, shifting the quality:shit ratio by unnoticeable increments, temporarily toggling the quality knob when your engagement drops off:

https://www.forbes.com/sites/emilybaker-white/2023/01/20/tiktoks-secret-heating-button-can-make-anyone-go-viral/

All social platforms want to be Tiktok: nominally, that's because Tiktok's algorithmic feed is so good at hooking new users and keeping established users hooked. But tech bosses also understand that a purely algorithmic feed is the kind of black box that can be plausibly and subtly enshittified without sparking user revolts:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/01/21/potemkin-ai/#hey-guys

Back in 2004, when Mark Zuckerberg was coming to grips with Facebook's success, he boasted to a friend that he was sitting on a trove of emails, pictures and Social Security numbers for his fellow Harvard students, offering this up for his friend's idle snooping. The friend, surprised, asked "What? How'd you manage that one?"

Infamously, Zuck replied, "People just submitted it. I don't know why. They 'trust me.' Dumb fucks."

https://www.esquire.com/uk/latest-news/a19490586/mark-zuckerberg-called-people-who-handed-over-their-data-dumb-f/

This was a remarkable (and uncharacteristic) self-aware moment from the then-nineteen-year-old Zuck. Of course Zuck couldn't be trusted with that data. Whatever Jiminy Cricket voice told him to safeguard that trust was drowned out by his need to boast to pals, or participate in the creepy nonconsensual rating of the fuckability of their female classmates. Over and over again, Zuckerberg would promise to use his power wisely, then break that promise as soon as he could do so without consequence:

https://papers.ssrn.com/sol3/papers.cfm?abstract_id=3247362

Zuckerberg is a cautionary tale. Aware from the earliest moments that he was amassing power that he couldn't be trusted with, he nevertheless operated with only the weakest of Ulysses pacts, like a nonbinding promise never to spy on his users:

https://web.archive.org/web/20050107221705/http://www.thefacebook.com/policy.php

But the platforms have learned the wrong lesson from Zuckerberg. Rather than treating Facebook's enshittification as a cautionary tale, they've turned it into a roadmap. The Darth Vader MBA rules high-tech boardrooms.

Algorithmic feeds and other forms of "paternalistic" content presentation are necessary and even desirable in an information-rich environment. In many instances, decisions about what you see must be largely controlled by a third party whom you trust. The audience in a comedy club doesn't get to insist on knowing the punchline before the joke is told, just as RPG players don't get to order the Dungeon Master to present their preferred challenges during a campaign.

But this power is balanced against the ease of the players replacing the Dungeon Master or the audience walking out on the comic. When you've got more than a hundred dollars sunk into a video game and an online-only friend-group you raid with, the games company can do a lot of enshittification without losing your business, and they know it:

https://www.theverge.com/2024/5/10/24153809/ea-in-game-ads-redux

Even if they sometimes overreach and have to retreat:

https://www.eurogamer.net/sony-overturns-helldivers-2-psn-requirement-following-backlash

A tech company that seeks your trust for an algorithmic feed needs Ulysses pacts, or it will inevitably yield to the temptation to enshittify. From strongest to weakest, these are:

Not showing you an algorithmic feed at all;

https://joinmastodon.org/

"Composable moderation" that lets multiple parties provide feeds:

https://bsky.social/about/blog/4-13-2023-moderation

Offering an algorithmic "For You" feed alongside of a reverse-chrono "Friends" feed, defaulting to friends;

https://pluralistic.net/2022/12/10/e2e/#the-censors-pen

As above, but defaulting to "For You"

Maturity lies in being strong enough to know your weaknesses. Never trust someone who tells you that they will never yield to temptation! Instead, seek out people – and service providers – with the maturity and honesty to know how tempting temptation is, and who act before temptation strikes to make it easier to resist.

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/05/11/for-you/#the-algorithm-tm

Image: Cryteria (modified) https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:HAL9000.svg

CC BY 3.0 https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/3.0/deed.en

--

djhughman https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Modular_synthesizer_-_%22Control_Voltage%22_electronic_music_shop_in_Portland_OR_-_School_Photos_PCC_%282015-05-23_12.43.01_by_djhughman%29.jpg

CC BY 2.0 https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/2.0/deed.en

[bloodchapell]

tiffany's lolita coord - armin a.

brief summary: finally asking armin to let you style him, you expect him to ask to look like yoshiki or atsushi but he requests something unexpected. dressing him in your clothes, styling his hair and even putting makeup on him sparkles a new light in both of you.

what to expect: alt and very nerdy reader, equally nerdy armin, mutual pinning, physical touch, lots of tension, cross dressing, #who is tiffany!?

your sword’s note: this was lowkey how i got the idea for the whole series, id just love to dress armin in egl. all past and future parts of this au series available in my mistresslist

“Mana-sama?” You repeat after him.

Armin had been listening to Malice Mizer non-stop, and was fascinated by Mana-sama. He also had seen you already in the beautiful black dresses traditional of gothic lolita and he was sure you couldn’t look more beautiful. He secretly wished he could completely change at least for one day and look as cute, and though he kept it precisely as a secret, when you two started talking about your shared wish for him to get styled by you, he saw the opportunity and ran with it.

“I want to look like Mana-sama.” He demands as soon as he agrees to your question.

“This is for the books .” You mumble fascinated to yourself, getting off your bed and looking for the ancient looking box under your bed that had the clothes you couldn’t fit in the closet. Before you start looking for one you decide to take his measurements and see which dresses would fit him instead of trying all of them. You ask him to stand up too and after grabbing the measuring tape and tell him to take his knitted sweater off so the measuring is more accurate.

His eyes trace the movements of your hands carefully, still kinda nervous of having you so close. You extend the tape and ask him to lift his arms, then wrap the tape around his chest and tell him the measurement so he can write it down in the little notepad you gave him. You measure the length of this arms, torso, waist and the distance from his waist to his knees; you do not measure anything else, you’ll figure it out without the measurement of his hips.

Now with his measurements you kneel back down and look in the treasure chest for a dress that fits him. Armin is a little taller than you by a few inches, but the difference from his built to yours is still notorious. There is only two dresses that you determine fitting. He chooses the black one and you nod, looking around for the undershirt, stockings, petticoat and other accessories. You explained in what order and how to wear every garment and he nodded hesitantly.

“Here, I will leave the room and you can change, let me know when I can walk back in.” You give him the things and now that the whole thing seems actually serious he gets hesitant.

“This is going to sound very ignorant but is it wrong to wear this?” He asks holding the clothes, adverting his gaze from meeting yours.

“What do you mean?” You asked without completely understanding what was he implying as being possibly wrong. “It’s really just clothes. I don’t think it’s wrong for anyone to wear any clothing unless it is meant to offend someone in any way or if it’s something inappropriate in front of kids or stuff like that.”

“I just don’t want you to think wrong of me… I was too quick to jump and say Mana-sama.” Armin fidgets with the fabric. He doesn’t want to say it and you know what he is trying to say and why.

“I won’t think wrong of you Armin.” You take the clothes off his hands and put them in the bed so you can hold his hands. “I dress like a guy sometimes and that doesn’t mean I am mocking men or I am any less feminine… it doesn’t mean I become gay for it, though I do like girls too but that is not the point…”

He blushes at your words. He had seen you dressing oddly masculine sometimes but had brushed it off as just ambiguous… and he didn’t know the rest.

“You like girls…?” It was almost possible to physically hear his heart stopping and shattering. His mind was already racing to make him overthink.

“I like people, why should I care about what they are if they’re cool.” You summarized and he felt his soul crawling back to his body very embarrassed. It made sense.

“I shouldn’t really be complaining, an essential part of vkei is androgyny and I know it…” His blue eyes are just focused on your hands, his teeth playing nervously with the piercing on his lip. “I’m just insecure… I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay…” You lift your hand from his and place him by his cheek, moving a strand of hair behind his ear, trying to make him look at you and at the same time comfort him by caressing his cheek. “I used to also worry if it made me less of a girl to dress like a guy, but that was just me doubting it. Still if you don’t want to do it there is nothing wrong with it.”

“No, I still want to do it.”

You gave him a smile and let go of his other hand to pull him in for a hug; your arms wrapped around his neck closing the distance. He didn’t know how to react at first, differently to the hugs you’d give him when saying bye, this felt more intimate because you were hugging him tightly. He took a second to reciprocate but eventually he gave in and wrapped his arms around your waist and rested his forehead on your shoulder. Your heart was beating so fast that he could feel you exhaling trying to calm down, but he didn’t notice because he was worried you could feel his unsteady breath on your shoulder from how nervous he was. The hug lasted for a while because you both didn’t want to let go plus you were also afraid of facing each other after such a moment.

“Get dressed and let me know when you’re done.” You pulled away from the hug leaving the dorm and closing the door as fast as humanly possible so he wouldn’t notice the heavy blush on your face.

It took him longer than expected.

“I think I need your help…” He peeked outside the door. You nodded and walked back in the room. He looked so cute that you could’ve had a heart attack.

The problem was that he couldn’t tie the ribbon on the back on the dress that gave form to the shape of the waist.

“I’ll get that for you.” You reassured and stood behind him. Your hands straightened the fabric in the front and moved slowly to the back to rectify that it stayed straight and close to his body, once in the back, you put the lace through the holes crossing it from side to side and once finished you pulled the ribbon to tighten the dress around his body and tied it in a bow. You then moved around to stand facing him and take a look at him. The dress suited him perfectly and though it was intended to be a little longer than other dresses, it seemed normal on him.

“You look so cute!” You praised making him turn around for you to take a closer look. He smiled when hearing you complimenting him. “Now let me continue.”

You made him sit down in the desk and wait while you brought your makeup.

“Isn’t my hair too short?” He wondered and you looked at him.

“Well yeah but we can’t magically make it grow.” You answered but then a sinister idea came to your mind. You looked back on the treasure chest and pulled out a black wig with curls and bangs. “So Mana-sama esque!”

You put the wig cap on his head and opened the makeup bag. You laughed looking at his bangs being out of his forehead for the first time, he looked so handsome…

Proceeding with his makeup you started by applying moisturizer to your hands and gently massaging his face. His face was blushed completely. After some sunscreen, you applied some primer, then concealer to correct some uneven tones in his skin, applied a little blush on his cheekbones upwardly to shorten his face and make him look cuter, then applied your lightest foundation on his face and blended it out.

“Wasn’t the blush after this?” He asked opening his eyes to look at you.

“It’s a cream blush so it’s kind of strong, I put it before the foundation to give it a more natural look. I also don’t like that it’s a warm coral, so after I put some setting spray and translucent powder I will put a little powder blush that has a cool tone to cancel it out. It’s more accurate to your skin tone and it looks very similar to the actual pale pink in which your cheeks blush.”

“Stop!!!” He demanded laughing ashamed and covering his face without actually touching to not ruin the base of the makeup. You laughed softly at how cute he was.

Continuing the makeup you applied some white concealer in his eyelids for the eyeshadow to show more vibrantly and started to do his eyeliner in a way it made his eyes look bigger and rounder, then mascara in his eyelashes and you drew bottom eyelashes to make his eyes look even bigger. Since he asked to look like Mana-sama, the eyeshadow was inspired by one of his looks, you applied a good amount of mascara on his eyelashes. For the lips you put a black lipgloss on his lips and asked him to even it out. To add the last touch you applied again setting spray.

“I feel odd..." He said looking in the mirror while you put the black wig over his head. "It feels wrong in a good way I guess..."

With the black wig on, Armin look like a completely different person. His soft features that were even more softened with the makeup and the curly wig made him look like a girl. And the frilly and poofy dress adorned his body delicately. His blue eyes kept looking over every detail of his new and unfamiliar aspect in the mirror as in trying to digest the whole thing.

From the treasure chest you pulled out all the headpieces that matched the dress and he chose a black headdress, so you secured it to the wig and tied it under his chin.

"Well you are now done, sadly our shoe size is very different and my shoes won't fit you." Finishing twirling around the synthetic curls to define them more and combing with your fingers the bangs over his forehead you said only to move in front of him and take a good look at him. Armin looked stunning, he looked so beautiful that you were even a little envious of how cute he could look.

"I have some black boots." He looked so different that he himself didn't recognize his image and could mistakenly fall in love with the cute girl in the mirror.

"Do you want me to go get them?" You asked and he stood up.

"I think I want to go out like this." He said looking at himself in the mirror for a long time, turning around to see himself from every angle. You turned around surprised, definitely not expecting him to say that.

"Well, let me get dressed and I will show you my favorite spot in town to be cute." You said excited while getting your things. After finishing getting dressed and applying makeup, you made sure to wear tall shoes to be on Armin's height. "Now we are the same size so it doesn't look weird that the "girl" is taller than the "guy"."

"That is so full of prejudice! There are tall girls and I am one of them." He joked pretending to be mad and you couldn't help but laugh.

There is no need to say how shy he was to walk out of your dorm. He had walked in differently and was now walking outside as a total different person. He kept complaining that his white sneakers didn't match the look and was completely embarrassed for it, which to you was nothing but cute; it’d be hard for you in the past to believe you if you said Armin was complaining about his shoes not matching his outfit.

"I love your fit." On the entrance of your dorm some girl told him and he nodded smiling too nervous to speak. You two walked from your building to his, he got a few looks from people passing by and you had to remind him that they were looking at him because he looked like he had escaped from a magical girls anime and not because they knew it was actually honors student Armin Arlert crossdressing through campus.

Once at his dorm, you sat down in the living room while he looked for the shoes in his room but then you both heard the very far away but approaching loud voice of Eren.

"What do we do!?" Armin started panicking and though it made you laugh initially you tried to not do so to not make him feel bad.

"Calm down, get into the bathroom and call Eren, tell him you gave me the keys to pick something up... and that I brought over a friend because she needed to use the bathroom." Pushing him into the bathroom you said.

Armin called Eren and said exactly what you told him, so when the door started to open, the brunette already knew and wouldn't be surprised at your presence in his place.

"Oh my god! I can finally meet you!" Eren jumped to shake your hand once he saw you, his green eyes looking you up and down and mentally taking a note agreeing with Armin's scarily accurate description of you. "Armin is so evil for not letting me, his basically brother, meet you before. I'm..."

"Eren, I know." You smiled and he nodded. After some small talk you realized that if you didn't stop him, Eren would talk your ears off. "Uhm, I think we need to get going to meet Armin, right Tiffany?"

You knocked in the bathroom door and for long minutes Armin stayed quiet, but eventually he came out, with the shoes already on.

"That is your friend?" Eren asked, probably referring to what Armin had told him in the call.

"Yeah, her name is Tiffany and she is a... uhm... childhood education major." You made the story up, knowing that behind all that foundation Armin was insanely red. "But yeah... we need to go, I don't want Armin waiting too long, it was nice meeting you Eren."

You rushed out of the door holding Armin's wrist.

"Bye!" He said in the door seeing you both run away. "Bye Tiffany!"

Once out of the sight of Eren, you both started laughing.

"Tiffany? Seriously?" Armin asked kinda out of breath. “Quit it Tiffany, that is your new persona when you are wearing lolita.” You affirmed to him while trying not to laugh. With the boots on, his coordinate looked more complete.

You two walked the longish way to the bus stop and waited while listening to Best of Blood. In the bus you taught him how to act like a noble from the eighteenth century. Initially he wanted to speak with an accent but he decided to follow Mana-sama’s example and just don’t talk at all.

“Hey uhm… I hope this doesn’t come off as weird but you are very pretty… could I possibly take you on a date?” While walking to the mystery place to told him about, a guy wearing the varsity jacket of your university approached him while you were looking t the window of a store. Armin looked at you with a mix of panic and laughter that he could barely contain on his face.

“Yo she has a boyfriend bro…” You grabbed Armin’s hand and tried to speak with a lower tone than the normal one of your voice.

“I’m so sorry bro, no hard feelings.” The guy seemed genuinely sorry and even offered his hand to dab you up as he assumed you were the alleged boyfriend and left completely embarrassed.

For a second you both stayed quiet, seeing the guy walk away.

“Did that guy just hit on me?” Armin slowly said, turning a little to see you. It felt odd for him to see you being slightly taller than you. “It appears so. too bad Tiff is cuffed.” You said showing your hand over his and laughing but he didn’t laugh. His heart was racing and there was only so much the foundation on his face could do to cover his severe blush. The awkward feeling of another man trying to take him, or more accurately, trying to take Tiffany on a date was completely erased when you jumped to help him implying that you two were dating. You implied that you two were dating.

It didn’t matter to him that you said you were Tiffany’s boyfriend, if he was a girl and you were a guy he’d date you, he’d also date you if he was a girl and you were a girl too, hell he would date you even if you were a guy because as long as it was you it didn’t matter to him what you were as long as it was you, because he liked and loved you and every aspect of your personality, plus you could really rock anything you were or decided to be.

“Yeah.” Armin managed to respond, too lost in his head to formulate a proper reply. His hand slowly grabbing yours back as you started walking —still holding hands— towards the place you had told him about.

“We’re here.” You said opening the door for him, as a true “gentleman” and he thanked you.

“Tea house.” He read from the sign in the door.

There was some French song playing in the store while you two sat down, both in the booth side of the table. The air felt tense as if both of you wanted to do something, anything, grab the other’s hand, maybe throw in for a hug, or even lean for a kiss… The growing feeling inside you both started to turn unbearable, a kind of heartache that came only from longing so hard that the months you had known each other for felt eternal and equivalent to a whole lifetime of being fathoming about the love you had for the other.

When the tea and pastries arrived, Armin saw his reflection on the golden liquid in the ceramic cup, easily mistaken his true self for Tiffany, but he still could see himself in his eyes, his self that had something against him and would not let him believe for any reason that you could like him back; there was some sort of insurrection because a strange shine in his eyes screamed for him to do something.