#and sorry for being a femme too. i guess

[ourstarsystem]

i'd really have to twist myself in a lot of unnatural ways in order to be "sufficiently nonbinary" to a lot of acquaintances it seems

[sparklepoint]

for @loveotomization and the art trade prompt silence/kiss/betrayal :3c

[whisperofaflame]

♡ Collision Course ♡

Chapter 15b: Our Little Mouse [Part 1]

WandaNat x [innocent, femme] Reader

Collision Course – Masterlist

Link to full fic (so far) on AO3

Chapter Summary: Natasha prepares for a difficult but necessary conversation with Wanda, on her return. Wanda walks home from work, caught in a spiral of regret for and justification of her actions.

Word count: 2.9k

A/N: This follows on directly from Chapter 15 of Collision Course. I've been absolutely swamped lately with work and other commitments so I've not been nearly as productive as I'd like, but I thought I could at least give you something by splitting this bonus chapter into two parts. This first bit delves into their perspectives a little. I hope it's okay -- and I'm sorry to give you so little after so long!

Natasha hovered by the kitchen window, watching you pace barefoot on the grass like a wild animal trapped in a too-small enclosure. She could see from your hasty, repetitive movements and the way your clutched at your torso that you were stressed. It pained her to see you like this, but she knew the only way to resolve it was to do the thing you dreaded, and actually talk all together about what was going on. Realistically, they wouldn’t be able to explain it all today. And, more than that, they really shouldn’t. It wouldn’t be fair to you to throw you in the deep end so soon, and it would be risky on their part. Even if Wanda was already convinced; even if you seemed to slip into the state Wanda craved so perfectly at times. 

The ethics — or lack, thereof — of the situation concerned Natasha greatly. At times, she worried they were being coercive. That the kindness they offered to you was merely increasing your vulnerability, and making you feel obliged to meet their every whim. And despite her repeated warnings to Wanda, and reminders to take it easy on you, her wife continued to push you into that submissive headspace, without thinking of how it would impact you when she inevitably had to retreat. 

It had been a strange day. You’d been wobbly this morning, worried and withdrawn. Perhaps from something Wanda said or did in the brief window of Natasha’s absence — she wasn’t sure. You’d hidden yourself away, and then almost disappeared without telling them. 

It wasn’t all bad, though. After Natasha’s compromise, you had brightened considerably. Exercise obviously helped you, and being outside seemed to do wonders for your mood too. On the walk to the bakery you’d been relaxed and cheerful. Natasha had enjoyed your company then, enjoyed seeing a little spark of the personality that seemed so often otherwise to be hidden beneath your anxieties. 

But then you’d crumbled again, at the prospect of upsetting Wanda. Over something so small too: the mere suggestion of starting up your course proper at college. Natasha knew her wife was a big believer in rest and relaxation, but she hadn’t anticipated that Wanda’s views on recovery would be dictating your thoughts to such a degree. You shouldn’t be so constrained by what Wanda might think, not when you had only just met each other, and there had been no communication about roles or expectations. In many ways, Wanda was acting like there was already an established dynamic between the two of you. And you, in turn, had been responding to that. Falling prey to her dominance. Submitting. Dropping.

Looking at it that way, your distress this afternoon made perfect sense. In Wanda’s absence, you had plummeted into sub-drop, scared of upsetting her, embarrassed by your predicament. Without Wanda there to reassure you, Natasha had had to step up. She wasn’t the best person to comfort you — it had been a while since she had been obliged to look after someone in that kind of way, after all — but she did her best. And in your need, you had clung to what was made available to you, even though Natasha had sometimes hesitated and second-guessed the affection she could offer. She hadn’t been quite sure whether to offer physical affection — could it, too, count as coercion? — but your eagerness to accept a hug, and the way you relaxed in her hold, seemed to point to it being appropriate in that situation. And it had been kind of nice, Natasha had to admit. Nice to feel needed, nice to feel nurturing and warm. But she had to stay objective. Her desires couldn’t come to the fore, couldn’t be allowed to dictate her actions. Especially not when Wanda was struggling to contain her own emotions around you. Someone had to be sensible.

Perhaps the note and the nickname were too much, in retrospect. It was difficult to judge how much affection to give, how much aftercare was appropriate after Wanda crossed yet another line. In general aftercare really ought to be proportionate to the scene that precipitated it, but then did that mean the aftercare too would be implicated in the case of consent (or rather, the lack of it)?

Natasha noticed you pause in your pacing of the garden, your gaze turning to focus on the bushes. A streak of white appeared in explanation, and she watched you crouch to greet Mayakovsky. The immediate bond between the two of you was rather sweet. Unfortunately, you undeniably had a lot in common. Plucked from the street by Wanda’s eagerness to heal. But you weren’t a cat they could keep without question. You couldn’t just be fed and conditioned into comfort in this home. Sometimes, Natasha worried that Wanda forgot that fact. Hence that awful comment she had made in the dead of night, which she would probably regret forevermore. Pet project. She still believed it a little, still believed that Wanda was working her magic to mould you into her vision, but it didn’t justify her speaking it aloud when you were plausibly within earshot. 

So many regrets already, Natasha considered. So many mistakes, so many messy feelings. And it hadn’t even been a week since you entered their lives. Was it really reasonable to hope that all this could be resolved neatly? 

Perhaps not all at once. Tonight would just be about smoothing over, and creating a foundation from which you could all consider possibilities. Basic boundaries needed to be drawn. Consent and communication needed to be established. Maybe that was all that was required just now. A necessary springboard, should you all choose to revisit it.

Natasha peeled her eyes away from your distant, crouching form, and turned to the kitchen island. Pulling out her notebook from beneath the dog-eared book she had nearly finished, she flicked to a new page and slid the ballpoint pen out of the loop at the side. She jotted down some abbreviated notes, her writing still neat but not quite as intentional as the careful letters she penned in her note to you earlier. 

Withdrawn.

Almost run → spin bike. 

Lunch → fine, not much. 

Bakery → good, then upset. 

She paused, spinning the pen between her fingers as she pondered on what she wanted to discuss, after relaying the events of the day. Then she added two queries she wished to bring to Wanda, alone. 

Sub-drop? 

Columbia?

Natasha set her pen down beside the notebook, which she closed over just in case you came in prematurely. It helped her to have the words written down, even if she didn’t refer to them later. The act of recording her thoughts in such a way always helped resolve the niggles and hone down her intentions.

Wanda would be back within half an hour, Natasha supposed. They’d have to chat first, to bring Wanda up to speed and hash out any differences of opinion before bringing you into the fold. And then they ought to have the conversation with you straight after, to save you from the agony of waiting and anticipating what could be said. All in all, it could take anywhere between twenty minutes and an hour, Natasha supposed. She rolled her fingers on the counter, nails tapping rhythmically against the marble. You’d probably need some downtime after their chat, she considered. Dinnertimes hadn’t always proved to be peaceful for you, so perhaps it would be better if Wanda took you up for a bath before dinner, since you’d probably want one anyway after using the spin bike.

After estimating all the notional timings in her head, Natasha decided to make a start on the chopping, at least. She wasn’t making anything too fancy — just mushroom stroganoff and a beetroot salad — but preparing the ingredients now would both give her something to do and ease the actual cooking process later, when she may be a little distracted in the aftermath of the conversation. 

Natasha found the dried mushrooms in one of the lower cupboards and set the packet on the counter. She was about to start boiling the kettle to rehydrate them when she hesitated. The last thing they would need after a tricky, emotional conversation would be a difficult dinnertime. She really ought to check if you were okay with the ingredients, since the peppers debacle had proven you were not entirely forthcoming with dislikes.

She slid open the balcony door and stepped out. You immediately looked up at the noise, eyes wide and nervous. You were probably wondering if Wanda had arrived back. 

“Just a quick question,” Natasha told you calmly, leaning both hands on the railing and smiling down to reassure you. “How do you feel about mushrooms and beetroot?”

Mayakovsky rolled over beneath your now stationary hand and gave a petulant meow of displeasure at the neglect, before stalking away from you and heading back to the bushes. You seemed momentarily distracted by his departure, watching him stalk behind the foliage before turning back to Natasha and beginning to answer her enquiry.

“I like them,” you said, smoothing your shorts over your thighs. “I… thank you for asking.”

Natasha gave you a simple nod, and started to turn before realising something, and spinning back to face you.

“Aren’t you cold?” she asked, frowning down at your bare legs crossed over on the grass.

“I’m okay,” you replied quietly, the fingers of your left hand leaving your lap and finding the blades of grass beside you. “I think I want to stay outside for a bit, if that’s alright?”

“Of course,” Natasha assured you, giving another nod to emphasise her agreement. “If you get cold there are blankets on the patio chairs — or if not there, in the basket.”

You sent a small smile back up to her, seemingly relaxing at the prospect of her permission. 

“Thank you.”

“Wanda or I will come and get you when we’re ready, okay?” 

“Okay.”

Natasha hovered a moment longer, then pressed away from the railing with a push of her hands. She wondered about leaving the door slightly open, but supposed you might feel watched if she did so. So she closed it over behind her, separating the two of you in this time between. 

Wanda seemed a world away right now: apart from the chaos she had instigated, yet still somehow pulling the strings from afar. Even in her absence there were echoes, her words and touch felt by both of you in memory, dictating feelings and guiding intentions with implausible ease. And you too felt far away, despite there being only a pane of glass and a couple dozen feet between you. Your physical proximity contrasted with the emotional distanced you maintained, whilst you processed the past and protected yourself for the future. 

The three of you were disparate, but seemingly bound to meet in the middle somehow. Like three shooting stars, each set on a course to collide.

—————

As she walked back home, Wanda resumed the questioning that had plagued her all day. She wondered if she had pushed things too far. Perhaps she had gotten a little bit carried away this morning, when she’d doted over you during breakfast? She had a tendency to lose herself, she realised, when she saw the flush of your cheeks and that slightly glazed look in your eyes. It propelled her to press harder, to tease a little more. 

If Natasha had been there, she would have held back a little. That alone was proof enough that she had maybe taken it too far. Wanda knew that Natasha wouldn’t have approved, and that it would have prompted raised eyebrows and hushed warnings if witnessed in person. 

But Natasha wasn’t there, in that moment this morning. And Wanda had just let herself slide into that rather blissful, almost hypnotic state of focussing in on you, and attending to your every need. 

Even as she thought it, Wanda could hear her wife’s voice in her head. 

But really, whose need are you meeting? Hers? Or yours?

Who could tell, really? When you, too, seemed to slip into that sweet state which had Wanda’s insides go a little giddy? She saw it; she saw you. She noticed the way your breath hitched, and the times when your eyes lingered a little too long in intimate places. She spotted the squirm of your body, the ducking of your head to hide heated cheeks. She saw everything. And she knew.

Natasha knew too; she could tell. But Natasha was holding back, holding herself hostage to logic and reason, as she was always wont to do. The contrast between them was one of the reasons they worked so well together. Wanda’s passion and impulsivity balanced out Natasha’s reserve and precision. They’d always been able to marry the two perspectives together, to connect the truth between them and find the suitable course of action. But in the past few days, they had experienced more minor quarrels than they had in perhaps the last two years. 

No, not quarrels exactly, Wanda reasoned. Just… differences of opinion. And a delay in reaching agreement.

Natasha had urged her many times over to tone it down, to lay off you and stick exclusively to the roles and responsibilities of hostess to a guest.

In contrast, Wanda had petitioned Natasha to relax, to let things unfold naturally without holding back or putting up walls. 

In many ways, Wanda was winning; Natasha’s resolve to remain appropriate and aloof was clearly waning. She’d started to let slip some pet names in Russian, and she had admitted this morning upon waking to comforting you after your nightmare, to taking you back to bed and staying with you until you slept. To her shame, Wanda had felt not just elation at Natasha’s new connection with you, but also a little jealousy too. How she would have loved to be the one to ease your worries and settle you to sleep last night. But alas, she was a sound sleeper, and her wife could hear a leaky faucet two floors below even whilst in the depths of REM.

Maybe — just maybe — that small sting of jealousy might have fuelled some of her behaviour this morning. Wanda had been a little worried when waking you, scared to find you distant and withdrawn again, just like at dinner last night. But you’d leaned in and let her help you, let her dress you and guide you downstairs. And yes, maybe she then got a little carried away. But the way your cheeks flushed and your eyes went wide at her praise and teasing… it stoked a fire within her; it fuelled the flames. 

Wanda had always been somewhat turned on by vulnerability. 

Something about being needed, being completely relied upon… it did things to her. Natasha hardly ever presented such moments, though on the rare occasion she did, Wanda valued the opportunity to care for her immensely. 

But you… You were different. Open, wanting. Automatically accepting of affection, even if you sometimes second-guessed it, and tried to hide. You needed the care, the reassurance, the praise. And God… Wanda was more than willing to give it. She’d give it forever, if you’d let her. 

Shit, she though suddenly, gripping the strap of her bag a little harder. She shouldn’t be thinking like this. Because although Wanda had the greatest love of her life safely at home awaiting her return, she had also learned, early and repeatedly, that to love is to lose. Natasha was the singular exception to this rule in her life. Aside from her wife, all Wanda knew was loss. Family, friends, relationships, dreams…

She could get caught up in the whirlwind of passion sometimes, and forget the fear. But Natasha always remembered, on her behalf. She held the grief for her, kept it steady until Wanda was ready to confront it again, and attempt to process the pain a little more. Natasha was her rock and her reason. And yet, Wanda never seemed to remember to pay heed to her wisdom. 

Natasha wasn’t always right, though, Wanda’s brain warred. Like with Mayakovsky: she’d been downright aghast at the adoption of the stray, as if his mere presence was an omen of something awful yet to come. But then she begrudgingly fell in love with him (though she’d never admit to it as such) and no dreadful thing ever came to pass. They hadn’t lost him, or been hurt by him. The worst he had done was vomiting on Natasha’s shoes.

But Natasha had good reason to be wary, and Wanda knew this too, despite her desperate attempts to bury the knowledge to the back of her mind. They had been hurt before, by someone Wanda fell for. Natasha had called it, over and over again… but Wanda hadn’t seen it until it was too late, and by then the emotions were spilled. Even though Natasha had foreseen it, Wanda knew it hurt her too. Perhaps more, because she always took on Wanda’s emotions on top of her own, like she harboured sole responsibility for the fallout. It was understandable that she didn’t want to repeat the same mistakes again, but Wanda could feel in her bones that this was different. You weren’t the sort to take advantage. You’d fallen into their lives, not orchestrated your way in. 

Natasha always saw what could go wrong.

Whereas Wanda always saw what could go right.

And she clung to that conviction, as she turned onto their street. She was almost home: to the place, the feeling, the people.

A/N: Thanks for reading! Chapter 16 is on its way, I promise!

Edit: Part 2 now available here

[archangeldyke-all]

sorry I JUST sent you an ask but I just thought of Silco and Reader being like two catty old ladies- absolute besties that will catch up over a glass of wine and gossip like in that one clip where Wendy Williams says “Guess who’s jealous of Adele? BEYONCÉ.” And Silco just GASPS

GOD AS:DFKSD

men and minors dni

okay 'cause here's the thing, as much as sevika LOVES gossiping and gossip in general, she's terrible at it.she can keep a secret to her grave, and she's incredibly intuitive and good at reading people, but she refuses to prod into people's business.

so it's no wonder that the two people she's closest to in the world are huge gossips.

there are a lot of upsides to it. you, silco, and sevika can almost always be found bitching after a hard week together, trading little bits of gossip about the people around town and cackling together as you joke and unwind.

sevika loves that you and silco are close outside of her. it makes her feel like she's got her own little family.

and it's surprisingly helpful in her line of work to always be up to date on who's fucking, and who's fighting.

but, then again... being close with two expert gossipers means sevika's never able to keep a secret from one of you for long.

she'll be having a rough period, think she's hiding it well, then silco will approach her by the end of the day with a grimace and a cigar. "your wife told me about your condition this week. i apologize for making you work so hard today, i wasn't aware."

if she and silco get in an argument that lasts longer than two days, you're always sure to stick your nose in their business and sort it out for them.

"sevika, you've got dinner with silco tonight. he's taking you to an apology steak night. he's got his statement all written out, i'm sure you'll accecpt." you tell her on her way out of the door in the morning.

sevika sputters. "what makes you so sure?!"

"i helped him write it! i know you-- i know how to patch things up with 'ya." you tease, pinching her cheek.

sevika just scowls and takes off for work, your giggle replaying like music in her head for the rest of the day.

and sometimes, really, all sevika wants to do is spend time with you, but you're too busy talking shit with silco.

"so... guess who's jealous of ran?" silco asks slowly as he lights up a cigarello.

sevika watches with a mixture of exhaustion and adoration as you lean forward in your chair, gasping an excited, "who!?"

"theiram!"

you burst into applause and laughter, and sevika groans and rolls her eyes, joining you on the couch for a night of gossip she's certain to fall asleep half way through.

taglist!

@fyeahnix @lavendersgirl @half-of-a-gay @thesevi0lentdelights @sexysapphicshopowner

@kissyslut @chuucanchuucan @badbye666 @femme-historian @lia-winther

@sevikaspillowprincess @emiliabby @sevikasbeloved @hellorai @my-taintedheart

@glass-apothecary @macaroni676 @artinvain @k3n-dyll @sevsdollette

@ellieslob @xayn-xd @keikuahh @maneskinwh0re @raphaellearp

@iamastar @sevikitty @mascdom @nhaaauyen @annesunshiner

@mirconreadzztuff22 @veoomvroom @lushh-s3vik4s @katyawooga @lesbodietcoke

@strawberrykidneystone @sevikasfan @fict1onallyobsessed @greenhazes

[rainrot4me]

Hey, just wondering which of the creeps you headcanon as lgbtq+?

These are just my headcannons for the characters themselves! This excludes them in my other x reader writings.

── .✦

✦ . jeff the killer

Bisexual, heavy masc-leaning.

Jeff gives “Am I gonna kill you or am I gonna kiss you? Guess we’ll find out,” energy no matter who you are. He thrives on chaotic spurts of emotion, feeding off of adrenaline and discourse.

He definitely flirts with anyone who keeps up with his teasing. His relationships are based more on vibe than gender, he couldn’t care less what’s in your pants as long as you’re able to keep up with him mentally and physically.

Would hate labels but also lowkey love how “bi” pisses off the homophobes. “What, you think just cause I stabbed a guy I didn’t wanna kiss him first? Don’t flatter yourself.”

✦ . ticci toby

Pansexual & demiromantic.

Toby is emotionally guarded, but when he loves? He loves deep. He doesn’t care about gender, connection and intensity are what draw him in.

He struggles to name his feelings, but once he trusts someone, he falls hard. “I didn’t plan on liking anyone. But then there you were.” And it’s not about what you are—it’s who you are.

✦ . eyeless jack

Gay (but emotionally repressed).

Jack has a masculine preference and a complicated past. He feels more than he admits. Likely had a closeted relationship in school before his transformation.

Now? He buries his attraction deep beneath logic, science, and distance—but you’ll see it in the way he lingers when he stitches you up. “My condition changed a lot of things. But not who I… admire.”

✦ . masky (tim wright)

Bisexual with a lot of internalized shame.

Tim struggles to define himself, including his sexuality. Had experiences with men he never talked about, but found himself in a constant back and forth of hating and liking people in general.

May have suppressed feelings for male friends before things went dark. He hates feeling vulnerable, so any attraction outside the norm makes him skittish. “It’s not about labels. I liked who I liked. But that was then.” Not very big on making emotional connections anymore.

✦ . hoodie (brain thomas)

Queer/questioning, very fluid.

Brian is subtle and observant—and quietly queer. He likely never got a chance to explore before becoming a proxy, but you get the sense he was always “a little different.”

He doesn’t define his sexuality, but he knows what pulls him in—and it’s often not about gender. “People are too obsessed with definitions. I just want connection. Peace. A spark.” Could give two shits what anyone has to say either.

✦ . kate the chaser

Bisexual, maybe slightly femme-leaning.

Kate has a strong femme presence but definitely isn’t picky. She likes power, confidence, vulnerability—no matter the package.

She might’ve been with girls before and just never mentioned it. Doesn’t talk about her sexuality but wouldn’t deny it if asked. “Yeah, I’ve kissed girls. Slept with a few too. You jealous?”

✦ . ben drowned

Pansexual + Gender Nonconforming.

Ben gives big pan energy but in a “I have no idea what gender this thing is, but I’m turned on by it,” way. Prefers people who treat him like a real person, regardless of identity.

Dresses and acts however he wants—gender norms mean nothing to him. He’s literally pixels. Probably jokes about being your “digital boyfriend/girlfriend/enbyfriend.” “Sorry, sweetheart, the only binary I care about is the coding kind.”

✦ . clockwork

Lesbian.

Yes she dated Toby, yes don’t bring it up. Natalie reads super lesbian-coded, and in the most flannel wearing, car-shop working way ever. Has strong emotional + romantic leanings toward women.

Probably had a very intense first love with a girl she lost. Doesn’t label herself out loud, but she lights up around strong, soft, female energy. “I’ve only ever felt safe with women. Everything else… always felt like pretending.”

✦ . laughing jack

Pansexual, flamboyantly queer.

Jack is a walking queer-coded fever dream. He flirts with everyone for fun but has a real soft spot for eccentric, gender-bending partners. A part of him doesn’t even understand why people care about gender.

His vibe? “Gender is a costume, darling.” “Oh please—I’ve seduced demons, clowns, angels, and corpses. You think your pronouns scare me?”

✦ . slenderman

Asexual, Aromantic-coded but curious.

Slender doesn’t need romantic or sexual intimacy—but he’s not unfeeling. He connects on a deeply spiritual level. Gender and orientation are below his plane of existence.

But with the right person? He explores… softly, curiously, almost reverently. “You intrigue me not for what you are, but how you exist. So human. So fragile. So luminous.”

꩜ .ᐟ

[theegyal]

Third Wheel

Chapter 4

Word count : 3K

⚠️: Eating Disorder Panic , BPD, Angst

She hadn't said anything. They just drove home in a sinister silence.

Janae plunged her attention into the neighborhood's night scenery, begging her thoughts to wander somewhere else than the text Stack received. She knew she had no right to feel jealous, bitter, or even hurt. That guy wasn't hers.

She sighed, cursing herself for believing something would have happened if they weren't interrupted.

Well, he did steal her first kiss—nothing big, right?

Niggas like Stack always got whatever they wanted.

He probably felt lonely, thinking he could have an easy way with Janae. One thing was sure: earlier, she would have given him everything he wanted. Love is such a fucking disease, and she was sick of it.

Janae laughed internally. Let's be honest for once—Stack was genuinely too drunk to realize it was her—the one and only Sister Janae.

She guessed Calypso's rum worked too much on him. Should've stuck to beers.

Hands on his Mercedes' steering wheel, he didn't say much either.

How could he have expected a message from Mary? At this hour?

But more importantly—what the fuck was he doing with lil Janae minutes ago?

Stack could tell she was inexperienced by the way she twisted her lips, reluctantly opened her mouth, slightly slid her wet tongue out, then immediately pulled it back; by the way her eyes stayed open, scanning him with honey and fire.

Lords above.

Janae had a grip on him, just by looking mesmerizing and... vulnerable?

He couldn't explain it. Yes—she was still the messy girl who wore worn, loose tops and baggy jogging pants in the morning.

Pooed so loudly one could easily think she was born with diarrhea printed in her digestive system.

The same girl with the pink satin bonnet and frog-printed yellow pajama dress, who had developed a habit of waiting up late for him to get home.

He glanced at her through the rearview mirror—quiet.

Her dress clung to her skin, glowing under the moonlight.

Her expression seemed far away, as if she was deprived of every single emotion.

However, through that thick veil, Stack saw her watery eyes reflected in the rear door window.

He didn't stare too long. That sight of her breaking something inside him.

He could only imagine how she felt : Confused.

"Jan—" he muttered, afraid of rejection.

Obviously, Janae didn't answer.

Not only had he stolen her first kiss, but at the fucking worst timing, his femme fatale of teacher had decided to make her presence known.

"I—I'm sorry, okay. I just got carried away," he tried to explain, awkwardly.

Carried away?

Ah.

Well, good grief.

Janae knew it all along.

There was no universe in which thee Elias Stack Moore would be interested in her.

Carried away...

The words echoed in her head again, again, and again—banging at her brain with violence.

The butterflies that had been freely flying in her stomach—gone. Replaced by a tight knot.

Are girls like her not worthy of love?

Would she ever melt under someone's touch, their caresses? Jesus ! She deserved to be special too. She craved affection.

The way he smacked her lips was just... an accident? He didn't mean it.

Damn, she wasn't expecting anything, but it still hurt.

Janae bore her heart on her sleeve, smiled softly every fucking day, killed her neurons on study books...

She had done all these bullshit to stop nurturing hopes of being, one day, embraced by her roommate.

All her efforts vanished tonight.

He touched her.

Confessed that he had always been the one carrying her to bed when she fell asleep on the sofa.

She saw the bulge he tried to hide.

Felt the heat of his— hypocrite—kiss.

Was playing with her feelings funny?

Mary. Was she that beautiful, that his attention naturally drew toward her?

She was surely thin, fit.

Men loved women they could easily present to their relatives... that's what her mother always told her.

"I expected it. No worries," Janae replied, turning her gaze toward him, voice inaudible.

Uninvited tears were flowing down her cheeks, the salty water wetting her lips he had pressed with false hunger.

"You got somewhere to go. Just drop me home, okay? I got the beers!"

She cracked a smile barely holding together.

It was fine.

She had always been the unchosen.

In high school, she was the best buddy boys her age never had—the one who played ball with them.

Always the goalkeeper, because they were afraid her stamina couldn't follow.

Never been the girl they confessed to.

In her mother's neighborhood, only grown men, dads and uncles, would lurk on her body.

The old lady would lecture her on her 'appealing' clothes before grounding her.

Since then, she had stopped wearing shorts or cropped skirts.

Mom was rarely wrong. Who wanna see cellulite and flabby skin?

'I expected it'  what did she meant? They were supposed to drink beers together, going home, play games and sleep. That was the plan. Now he had somewhere else to go but shit ain't changing, Janae and him would just have to postpone their moments...right ?

Stack tried to speak, reassuring her. However, the lump in his throat choked him, shutting his mouth. His hand trembled on the steering wheel as rain started to drop on the windshield, putting the wipers to work.

He couldn't dare looking at Janae again. Not without wanting to reach over, wipe her tears away. He had a vague idea of what was going on.

Her caring eyes, protective gestures, silent monitoring, the delicious meals she cooked...her love language didn't went unnoticed. Yeah. He knew. Deep down, Stack fucking knew.

This wasn't just about the mere half-kiss. She buried too much weight in her heart.

Three long years she had admired him from afar, even though they lived under the same roof.

The nights she had lent him a shoulder to cry over, after being dump by another girl.

The tenderness she offered him selflessly—not allowing herself to dream of reciprocity.

The softness she covered him with — infinite and free.

He took it all.

Not because he deserved it, but because she gave it anyway. Gave it with a kind of loyalty that never asked for anything in return. Not out loud, at least.

Reflecting on himself, Stack concluded he wasn't better than those sons of bitch at the party. He made her cry.

Her eyes had shifted from the window door to low down her dress. She was staring at it like some odd entity.

"I expected it"

Fuck—she ain't even yelled. Didn't curse him out.

She just... folded in the backseat. Tucked herself behind that barrier she always used when life reminded her where she stood.

And Stack hated himself for being the one who put her there. Again.

He parked near their building. Janae She didn't wait. Indeed as  soon as he shut off the engine, she popped the door open and walked out, barely holding her purse to her side.

"Wait—Janae !" Stack shouted.

She didn't turn around. Continuing on her way. She called the elevator, jumped in when it hit the current floor and disappeared.

The cold air inside the apartment welcomed her. Janae didn't bother switching on the lights. The loft blackness was somehow healing. She threw her purse on the sofa, tossed her heels in corner and rushed wailing on her silk mattress sheets.

She ain't even had the strength to undress properly.

The zipper on her dress dug into her ribs, but she didn't move. Just laid there, face buried in the pillow, sobbing.

Her chest became heavy, knotted with something unbearable,as if something or someone was tearing her gut apart.

She rolled onto her side, curled up, and stared at the dark ceiling.

After a while she wiped her face and weight up, legs heavy as she dragged her carcass to the kitchen.

The white full-stickers fridge hissed when she opened it. Anxiety overwhelmed her, shame rising. Eating was not a solution. She knew but couldn't resist.

There was leftover pasta, a half-eaten rotisserie chicken, few yogurts, a pack of sliced cheese.

Her fingers twitched. She didn't want any of these, Janae wasn't hungry. But she needed to fill the hole in her heart. So she ate.

She grabbed the chicken. Her fingers tearing the flesh from the bones, salt and grease piling her lips, mixing with the tears she didn't bother wiping away anymore.

She shoved cold pasta in her mouth, barely chewing, not even breathing between gulps. Her stomach ached, her throat burned. She wanted to puke, but she hadn't punished herself enough.

She opened the cabinet above the stove, pulled out the jar of peanut butter. Again, with her fingers, she stuffed more than five scoops past her lips until she painted her mouth's corners brown.

Her belly cramping, the mix of junk food crawling up, menacing to jerk on the tiled kitchen floor.

The clock sang 2:AM. Stack had yet to cross the door of their home. If he cared, even a little, he would have stayed. Talked with her, tried to ease her turmoil.

Instead, he went to see Mary. Mary with the red rose.

He chose the prettier one.

Not the girl sitting on a freezing floor with peanut butter in her teeth and chicken grease on her fingers.

"God, I'm so disgusting," she shrieked out, her nails clawing against her hips.

Four days had passed since the incident. That night Stack came home after 3:AM, finding peanut butter spread in the sink, bones of the rotisserie chicken knotted in a paper towel.

They never discussed what happened.

Janae simply avoided him.

She took the decision to leave as soon as the sun shone through the blinds in the morning—just so she wouldn't have to see his face.

She memorized his shower schedule, adjusting hers to avoid him.

She became workaholic, nose buried in books until the pages blurred. Black bags under her eyes, highlighters dead, post-it notes stuck in every wall of her bedroom.

At last, this Saturday. Janae decided to take a break. It was her birthday.

Not that she felt like celebrating. But Pearline—who had been harassing her for days with texts, memes, voice notes, and passive-aggressive "you better not ghost me on your day" threats—had organized something : A girls club night.

Four days ago, she swore she would craft another version of herself.

She tried everything to love her body—every trick possible —except one: pretending.

She never faked it. Never stood in the mirror and lied to her reflection. Never forced herself to show skin or smile like she believed she deserved the attention.

But tonight?

Pray the Lord, because yes—Janae had made up her mind.

She gonna be sexy. Bold. Seen.

And if she had to fake confidence to become more assertive ?

Then so be it.

Who gave a fuck if it her self love wasn't real ?

Stack left the apartment at 5:30 PM, slipping out without a word. He didn't bump into Janae, she barely stepped outside her room.

He drove to the bakery a few blocks over—small spot with fogged-up windows and the smell of warm vanilla leaking through the windows.

"Mmh. Hello?" he knocked gently on the glass door. "I ordered a birthday cake?"

A short woman in a flour-dusted apron appeared from the back, wiping her hands on her hips. She squinted through the glass, then unlocked the door halfway.

"Elias Moore. For... Janae."

He cleared his throat, suddenly aware of how strange her name sounded in his mouth.

The woman nodded, disappeared, then came back holding a white box tied with pink ribbon. Stack took it carefully then murmured :

"She loves chocolate and praline"

The woman didn't respond. Just gave a soft smile and shut the door behind him.

Back in the car, the box sat untouched on the passenger seat. Stack stared at it, tapping the steering wheel with one hand. He did wrote a card. But words were cheap without actions.

Every year, they baked her birthday cake together.

Made a mess in the kitchen. Laughed until they choked. Threw a house party loud enough to piss off the neighbors. Janae's girls would flood the apartment and Stack—always the only man in sight—would cook something while Janae watched with that suspicious side-eye like she didn't trust him near her spice rack.

But this year? He bought the cake.

No more mixing bowl. No music. No flour on her chubby cheeks.

He didn't even know if she would eat the cake. He did choose chocolate and praline though.

She might have somewhere to go tonight, it was her day after all. And maybe—for the first time—she didn't include him.

Hours blended together. Janae alarm rang 8:PM loud while she was busy, in the bathroom, shaving : cooch and legs. Don't even ask why she was bushing off her pussy, she just felt like doing it.

She showered quick, with cold water. When she stepped out, her towel stuck on her damp skin, her deep brown thighs glistened, pores open, body moistened from the rush. Then she darted to her bedroom,leaving wet footprints on the hallway floor.

For the first time in three damn years she ignore Stack gaze on her.

Didn't grip the towel tighter.

Didn't tuck her stomach in.

Didn't apologize with her eyes.

She knew he was looking. She felt it. But she didn't care.

Not that his eyes stopped making her belly flutter but she just understood that behind them, there was no meaning. She was just his buddy.

And buddies ain't shy about seeing each other half naked.

Inside her room, she got rid of the towel. Lotioned her dark skin with her favorite coconut body milk, grabbed a laced black string panties from the drawer, pulled it up to her waist and walked to the dressing.

The dress he had bought for her, last year.

She never wore it.

Back then, she called him a perv for choosing something so damn revealing. Glittery, low-cut, barely-there straps, deep slit up the thigh, dangerous cleavage. She remembered laughing, tossing it back in the bag, saying, "the hell I looked like ? Cardi the fuckin B ?"

But tonight felt different.

Guess now was the right time to show its potential.

She stepped into it, pulled it up. The dress slid over her dip hips, stretched tight across her ass, hugged her waist. She adjusted the top so her breasts sat right. No bra were needed.

Her nipples pressed bold through the glitter mesh, daring anybody to look too long.

She faced the mirror. Tilted her head. Ran her fingers along the strap slipping down her shoulder. The side slit climbed so high she caught a flash of her lace panties.

"Yeah..." she mumbled to her alter ego in the mirror "welcome home, 22 Janae"

Janae stepped out with a new confidence. She wore her blonde locs wild and free, cascading over her shoulders, her lips glossed in caramel sheen.

Her makeup was on fleek. Cheekbones refined, lashes spiky and dramatic.

Beyoncé ain't even shit compared to the bih she was becoming this night.

She walked by Stack in the living room. He was sitting on the barstool, hunched over his tray, breaking down weed. His hands slowed the moment he looked up, stopping his roll blunt activity.

His eyes caught up her oiled thighs first, and for a second, he thought he was hallucinating. Her dress slit was so high, he sure could sure see her panties—well if that shit could be called like that : Black string, small enough to disappear if she bent over.

That wasn't Janae. That wasn't the girl who lived in oversized tees and fuzzy socks. He didn't recognize her.

His eyes followed the line of the fabric up her back, past the dip in her spine, to the two straps barely holding her plumping body together. Her big tits pushed against the cloth, brown nipples poking through like they were tryna get free. She wasn't even wearing a bra.

"Ain't that the dress I got you?"

A hot, angry pulse beat his dick. That bitch was crazy — Wearing all that for some other guy ? And he was the dumbass who paid for the dress.

"You da one who bought it huh?" She replied, dry, focusing on her phone screen.

Funny. Now she was giving him attitude.

She never did that before. The real bad Janae he knew would have folded, pulled that dress' hem down, maybe laughed it off.

Black Jesus — she wouldn't have wore that stripper ass outfit to begin with ! He bought that, only to tease her. Nothing more.

"You never wore it," he muttered, throwing a stare at her bouncing ass, "thought ya ain't Cardi the fucking B !"

She laughed. Not with her usual adorable, lovely sound — Nah, this laugh was meaner, condescending.

"Nah, am ha cousin" she grinned, half looking at him.

His jaw locked. That shitty smirk her face? It pissed him off in ways he couldn't explain. His blunt sat dead on the tray. Nothing he could smoke would get him high enough to numb the feeling crawling through him.

He wanted to rip those straps off and watch her big titties sagging on his face. Press his hands down her slick thighs just to squeeze her ass cheeks. Tug that black string aside and slid two fingers in her super tight pussy, thrusting her until she stopped playing cold and started moaning his name.

But none of that was gonna happen. At least, not now.

Not after the way she looked at him  like he was a random-ass nigga.

Stack hated the feeling building in his chest—aching and embarrassment. He didn't have a right to say shit. To control her. He knew it. But that didn't stop the heat spreading in his gut.

"Later" she purred.

He couldn't stand up. Not yet. His pants were too damn full with the way he was hard. He swallowed and looked at the door as it shut behind her.

Tag List :

@lilbitt @-harmonytbh @solarssins @rkiiives @harleycativy @thelifeoflagab @juniooox @tadjoa @shamansha @brownskincheyenne @freelandgoddess @blaqgirlmagicyallcantstandit @iammyownlover @stormynovashambler @summrsovrinterlude @prettygirl2800 @puffmamaa @harleycativy @jasssdee1 @itstayleigh @queenofklonnie22 @bigjh @tadjoa @Isc72 @forzaferrariii , @blxckberrie @avidreader73 @partylikemajima @lolalikesgames @ultralspblr @post-woke @jasssdee1 @lizbehave @rkiiives @underated345-blog @thefutureemmywinner @chknnwffls @maddyf22 @jackierose902109 @iiiheartfayee @chrisevansmentee

[imperishablereverie]

A HELPING HAND

summary: it's the last night at mark rebelatto's tennis academy for art and patrick. the last night of being bunkmates, the last night of staying up to talk about tennis, the last night before art is off to stanford and patrick goes on tour. when art falls asleep, patrick usually jerks off like any regular guy with needs. it's not weird of course. he taught art how to jerk off in this very room afterall. but tonight is different. patrick would already be finishing into a sock if it weren't for arts quiet little sobs.

pairing: patrick zweig x art donaldson

content warning: 18+ mdni mlm mutual masturbation mutual handjob internalized homophobia?

word count: 2.4k

authors note: ahh this is my first fic! i was inspired by a post i saw a week or two ago but i can't remember what the @ was. the concept stuck with me and i just had to write something. i hope it's enjoyable... if it is i'll make a part two. happy reading!!

taglist: @fwaist @pittsick @cowboyfaists @manipulatemedonaldson @glassmermaids @zionna @femme-lusts

for the last hour, patricks hand has progessively slid lower and lower until it's found purchase at the waistband of his boxers. he'll occasionaly dip his fingers beneath it out of boredom, but he can't find it in him to go any further. not when the room is practically calling out to him. each corner holds a different memory. the walls, which have heard all of the late the night conversations between him and art. the trophies, that they've both worked their asses off for. the beds, where patrick taught art how to jerk off when they were younger. where they talked about kat zimmerman. where they came at the same time. it was underlined with a sensuality both of them would take to the grave. he can't believe it but he might miss the place. not the constant pressure nor his judgy peers. just the memories. all of which are with art.

speaking of, patrick looks across the room in an attempt to make out arts figure in the dark. his eyes have a hard time adjusting and he can only hope he's asleep. he opens his mouth to check but thinks better of it and looks up at the ceiling. his fingers slip under the waistband of his boxers once more, sliding more downwards than before. he's about to wrap a hand around his growing hardness when he hears something. he yanks his hand back and sits up slightly, eyes searching the darkness.

if patrick strains his ears enough he can hear the muffled cries coming from the direction of arts bed. he sits up completely and plants his feet on the floor, causing it to creak under the new weight. patrick curses inwardly to himself when it goes quiet. "art? are you uh.. are you awake?" he whispers loudly in hopes that his best friend won't ignore him.

"...yeah, sorry if i woke you up." art whispers back after a beat. patrick almost laughs at how pathetic he sounds. like he always does. but the sniffle that follows is enough to have him crossing the room and sitting down on arts bed.

the silence that follows is uncomfortable and long. uncomfortably long, if you will. patrick has never been good at comfort. he can't even think of an instance where he's actually comforted someone. he tends to just make a joke in hopes of lightening the mood. that or he aborts the scene before tears fall. too late now. "what's wrong?" the words don't even sound like his own and it takes him by surprise. it's something he's never asked before in his life. apparently it surprises art even more because he sits up and gives him a curious look. "why do you care? it doesn't even matter." patrick scoffs at that. "it does matter." his tone is uncharacteristically soft. "but you're also keeping me up, so either talk to me or spare me the trouble." he redeems himself before art has more questions that he can't answer. why does it even matter?

another beat. "i'm just— i don't know— i'm sad, i guess. about leaving. we grew up here and now we're moving on. leaving it in the past." he shrugs and looks down at his lap like a kicked puppy. patrick only sighs because art's right. he himself was reminiscing for the last hour, barely even able to get hard because of the memories plaguing him. "i get it, this place means a lot to us. but you got accepted into stanford and i'm going on tour. we're going further than we ever dreamed of. we'll finally have more to our names than this shitty academy." he laughs and ruffles arts curls, settling for the joking tactic. "yeah.. you're right." his tear stained eyes finally meet patricks and he offers a sad smile. patrick offers one back and it's far different than his customary smirk or grin.

but it was gone as quick as it came. "are we done here? 'cause you kinda ruined my me time, if you catch my drift." patrick makes a jerking off gesture with his hand, as if his words weren't comprehendable alone. "right..." arts smile falters when he notices the tent in patricks boxers. was that there the whole time?

he should be disgusted if it was. here he is, crying and in need of comfort. maybe even a lullaby. all the while his best friend is harboring a boner and can't even offer him a hug. but if the way his own cock is filling out says anything about what he's feeling, it's definitely not disgust.

and of course patrick catches on immediately, eyes watching the quickening growth in arts boxers. it's only then that he's reminded of his own which he left aching and wanting. their attention shifts from their erections to each other once again. it's even quieter than before. so quiet that the gears in patricks mind can almost be heard working overtime.

eventually, he voices what he was thinking so hard about. "i could help you take your mind off of things if you want—" art shakes his head vigorously as if he'd rather die. "no, i don't want." patrick scoffs "really? well, i didn't know you were the type to get a random boner." he nods to the tent in arts boxers that now matches his own. "i'm not— i don't— it's a natural reaction—" art stammers, a flush already rising to his cheeks. "a natural reaction to what? my dick?" patrick grins, fully aware he has him cornered. all art can do is grab one of his pillows and plant it firmly over his lap, avoiding patricks gaze yet again.

there's that gleam in patricks eye. the one that shines when he's planning something regrettable, which is often. "come on, art." patrick drawls and leisurely crawls over him. he rips the pillow from his grip and sets it off to the side. "do you remember when i taught you how to jerk off? we did it together, right here in this room. you on this bed, a whimpering mess." he smiles down at art, dimples making him look slightly less devilish. "it's our last night here. you really wanna spend it sulking? let's just.. give each other a hand." his fingers trail down arts bare torso before he finds and palms his buldge, relishing in the whine it pulls from him. "for old times sake." he adds, as if that will make it any better. "f—for old times sake?" art asks hesitantly, unsure how he's even able to form words at this point. "yeah, for old times sake." patrick echoes and his palm presses down harder.

when art bucks his hips up instead of telling him off, patrick takes it as a yes and hooks his thumbs into the waistband of arts boxers. he tugs them down slowly as if to prolong his discomfort. when they're finally off, he tosses them into the void and his own follow suit. patrick props one hand beside arts head for support as the other finds his hip. art is staring between them, to which patrick follows his line of sight. their cocks are rock solid and straining against their stomachs, arts leaking pre-cum already. patrick removes his hand from its place on arts hip and wraps it around his base, avoiding arts at all costs. you see, palming and actually touching are totally different things. to the two of them at least.

he strokes himself once. twice. by the third, art is grabbing his own and mimicking patricks motions. they set a pace with their hands in sync whether it's purposeful or not. the previous silence of the night is now filled with ragged breathing and the occasional moan. patrick focuses his eyes on the headboard while art shuts his every now and then. they never make eye contact. it's an unspoken rule. one that would be way weird if broken. although, patrick does take the chances when arts eyes are closed to admire him. he watches the slight flutter of his eyelids, or how his eyebrows scrunch with pleasure, but mainly the way his lips part to let out sounds that go straight to patricks gut.

he doesn't even realize that his hand is leaving his cock and wrapping around arts until it's too late. arts eyes fly open and his hand stills. he wants to pull his hand away and ask him what he's doing. but they're making eye contact—dammit they're making eye contact—and all rational thoughts flee his mind. especially when patrick slowly moves their hands, guiding arts strokes. he's not even touching him and yet it's enough to make him lose it. "please—" art chokes out, staring into patricks eyes pleadingly. "please what?" it almost comes out tauntingly but it's far from it. "let's just... help each other out, like you said." the words leave a weird taste in arts mouth but he ignores it. patrick stops the movement of their hands and stares at art in contemplation. his eyes flick from arts to his lips then back. "alright. no kissing though, i'm not gay or anything." patricks words are laced with underlying meaning but they're both too lost in the moment to acknowledge it. arts insistent head nodding speaks for itself.

arts hand slips out from under patricks, allowing him to truly grip his cock. the moans they both let out is an obscene combination. patrick should've have stopped it from going this far. he knew that. but when arts hand wraps around his own ache he can't find any reason why he would.

they resume the pace of earlier but it quickly turns frenzied. hands pump, thumbs rub tips, free hands grab balls. their noses either drag across the others cheek or smush against one another. they share the same breath but they never kiss and they maintain their eye contact rule (with the exception of earlier.)

it isn't long before they're both thrusting into each others fists. art mostly, the needy thing. "fuck yeah— just like that." patrick moans into arts ear, so very tempted to pull the lobe into his mouth and suck on it. "like this?" arts tone is almost innocent even as he flicks his wrist. "mmmh exactly." patricks movements get sloppier, so do arts. the heat between them is boiling but the feeling is so good it feels like they're in heaven and hell all at once.

their climaxes rise at the same time, art working through his faster. "please pat— oh shit— patrick i'm gonna—" his words are cut off by a moan that sounds like it was extorted straight from his soul. patricks name on arts lips is enough to have his orgasm following right after. "yes— just like that art— fuuuuck—" ropes of white come shoot out from their swollen tips, crossing paths before landing on each others stomachs.

patrick collapses onto his back next to art, both boys covered in the others release and gasping for air. they don't find it in themselves to look at each other, at the damage they've done. they just stare at the ceiling and relish in the left over pleasure.

patrick is the first one to make a move, getting up and looking around for his boxers. art sits up to watch him. definitely not to stare at his naked form. once he finds them, patrick pulls them on and tosses arts to him. he takes a moment to let what they just did sink in. he looks over art from head to toe as he tugs his boxers on himself. his eyes linger a little too long on the mess on arts stomach. his mess on arts stomach. arts mess on his stomach. a strange feeling of pride swells in his chest and it makes him feel sick. he knows art must feel just as sick, if not more. it's not like patrick has never thought about this before. he has. more times than he'd like to admit. it's that he knows art hasn't and never will. so he deems it best to avoid it.

he walks into their bathroom and comes back with two cloths. he carelessly throws one to art and walks back to his side of the room to clean himself off in the mirror. however, he keeps an eye on art in the reflection. he watches as he quickly wipes off the liquid as if it was toxic waste. patrick does it himself, and they discard them in their trash bins.

art fixes his pillows and pulls the sheets over him whilst patrick settles himself back in his own bed. they don't exchange looks or even a goodnight. they simply turn over and fall asleep.

  —

in the morning, patrick and art are up at their typical time. aka the ass crack of dawn. they're both tired, like usual, but more so from their late night activities. they each mutter a goodmorning and make small talk here and there while they get ready for the day. "how'd you sleep?" "good, you?" "pretty good." "nice."

when the time comes for packing, patrick almost expects to see art crying as he brings in empty boxes. but he's not. his demeanor is entirely different than how it was last night. before... everything.

"want some help?" patrick offers when art begins to stuff his respective boxes. "sure, if you don't mind." they spend an hour packing all of arts stuff, nice and neat, and another hour packing patricks stuff, unorganized and an overall mess.

by the end of it the room looks empty, but they both know it's not. it's full. full of memories and shared moments. full of secrets that will never leave. full of whatever happened between them last night.

patrick is the one to break the heavy silence. "wanna play a match later? i'll even buy us some beer after." art switches his focus, eyes locking with patricks (now that the rule isn't in place) and grins. "only if you get the good stuff."

"when have I ever not gotten the good stuff?" from the smiles on both of their faces, you wouldn't think that they were leaving a big chunk of their lives behind. you also wouldn't think that they jerked each other off the night prior.

[trancylovecraft]

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ WANDERILLUSTREOUS!: Chapter Four!

(YANDERE GENSHIN VARIOUS x READER)

[F/N] [L/N], a twenty-two year old college student goes about her mundane life. Most people would describe her as content, and maybe [F/N] would've described it as such too- Her life. Over and over again, day after day, the cycle never stops. That is, however, until she suddenly drops into Genshin Impact out of nowhere. In any other case, [F/N] might have been glad to be there. In a fantasy land where she had only ever visited in her dreams, with a feeling she couldn't describe flooding her entire being. However, [F/N] couldn't be further from excited.. she had never played Genshin in her life. [F/N] threw her head into her hands, holding back the urge to scream. “I’m absolutely screwed, aren’t I?”

*ੈ✩‧₊˚AO3 LINK *ೃ༄

GENDER: Femme LIST OF YANDERE'S: https://pastebin.com/ErsuA2cz SONG: PIN-EYE! - Jhariah NOTE: anyways so sorry for this being late ya girl was experiencing the horrors <3

PREVIOUS PART *ੈ✩‧₊˚ MASTERLIST *ੈ✩‧₊˚˚ NEXT PART (ON AO3) *

To be frank, Kaeya didn’t know what to think.

It had been a long time since the sun set over the horizon. Blue to orange to red to black. The wispy clouds had already dispersed into mist, leaving only the spilt glitter of stars to adorn the great sea above.

Kaeya rested a hand on his chin. He’d gotten here when the sun was still visible, halfway over the horizon, and still burning shapes into his sclera. He paced back and forth, the soles of his boots clacking sluggishly against the stone.

Wind. It brushed against his skin like dandelion tufts in the spring breeze. 

His eye narrowed, catching a glimpse of the figure in the distance.

She emerged from the grass and the ferns from afar, skipping and hopping down the paved road usually traversed by knights on patrol. Even though Kaeya couldn’t see her face, He could almost feel the child-like smile on her face as she made sure not to step on the lines on the dirt, her movements airy, A skirt of vermilion swaying like a hypnotist's watch behind her.

[F/N] [L/N], Finally, she had arrived.

Kaeya had expected her to take a little later than usual, considering her rather notable disorientation, so he supposed that he couldn’t be too annoyed at her being late. He wouldn’t have been anyway, He was used to playing the waiting game.

His lips upturned as he watched her finally approach, the heels of her riding boots thudding to a stop.

“Apologies for the wait..!”

[F/N] called out as she dusted herself off, shaking away all the dirt from her outfit.

She was dressed in usual Mondstadtian attire. A loose blouse with poet sleeves, draping down her figure. With a leather corset, tied not too tightly around her midsection. A skirt matched with a frilly petticoat that peeked out from under the rose cloth.

It was surprisingly fitting, guessing that it was most likely something Amber had gifted to her. She seemed happy in it, too. Considering the way her boots clacked excitedly against the path she skipped along, Laced up to the knees, Blossomed into a bow.

It was.. Cute. In a naive way. He must admit.

“Ah.. Finally, you’re here.” Kaeya greeted, His voice echoing out into the night as he looked down at her. The glint in his eye resembled the stars that glimmered above. “I was wondering when you’d arrive. Hm, I see you have a wardrobe change.”

[F/N] grinned at his observation. Foot turning, her skirt raising ever so slightly as she gave him a spin.

“Amber handed it to me! It was an outfit she got a while back for becoming an outrider, but it didn’t fit her right. So. She gave it to me instead..!” She said, giving a small bow at the end of her twirl.  “Don’t I look pretty? I feel pretty. That’s for sure. Good to get outta that nightdress at least..!”

Ah, just as he thought.

“And Amber didn’t decide to come along? I admit I was expecting to see her following behind you.”

“Well.. She wanted to, but Amber’s already helped me out a lot. I didn’t wanna keep her from her job so.. I insisted that I come here by myself, you know?” [F/N] explained. “She didn’t like it since Paimon was asleep and out of commission, but.. I’m a convincing person when I want to be.”

[F/N] gave him a smile, Hands trailing to rest on her hips. It was strange, really, the outfit she was wearing. A corset and such a frilly blouse weren’t exactly something she wore often, which was probably why she found it so appealing in the first place.

Amber had said that it would do for now. It wasn’t the best for moving around in, but it was better than nothing.

“Well then.. Now that you're here, I suppose there’s no point in waiting any longer, Hm?”

“Woah..!”

[F/N] let out a small gasp as Kaeya unsheathed something from behind his back. Tossing it up into the air in a quick motion, [F/N] only catching a glimpse- A shine rolling down polished steel. 

Her feet skittered forward. A weight dropped into her hands.

[F/N] blinked. It was a simple sword, an iron blade that shone like silver under the pale moonlight. Glimmering. Clean and polished. [F/N] gawked as she tested the weight in her hands, her nails digging into the leather coating the hilt.

Kaeya smirked, finding amusement in her reaction.

“You can consider this little adventure to be your crash course on swordsmanship, and this personal training from me is a form of compensation for assisting during the earlier Storm Terror incident,” Kaeya said as he watched her adjust to the weapon in her hands. “Besides, the Acting Grand Master took the time out of her busy schedule to request this of me. How could I say no?”

[F/N] held it carefully, yet with an almost childish excitement, looking at it like she had just torn off the sword’s wrapping paper on Christmas Day. This was what a sword looked like up close? [F/N]’s hand moved to the hilt, Fingers wrapping around the leather. Was she actually supposed to swing this thing? No way..

“Well? Are you ready?”

[F/N] turned her head upwards, A smile spreading on her face as her knuckles tightened around the hilt. Swing it? She could definitely do that.  

“Lead the way, Oh Captain Kaeya.”

She didn't need to be asked twice as he beckoned her onwards, His strides long and quick, forcing [F/N] to catch up. A grin framed on her lips as she skipped up the steps like a child playing hopscotch.

Kaeya pressed his hand against the temple door. A bright, Blinding blue hitting their faces as the door grumbled- Dust and pebbles dislodging from the cracks. He breathed in, that same burnt scent of ashwood and overdone meat wafting out from inside.

The scent of Pyro Slimes.

Something must have happened in there.

⭒❅✸✪✸❅⭒

“Watch your step!”

“Woah!”

[F/N] let out a gasp as she felt Kaeya’s hand wrap around her forearm, keeping her steady as she dangled over a ledge. Stars in her eyes and swirling around her head as she was yanked back up onto the platform, His grip being rather firm.

“Careful now. Tripping mid-battle isn’t exactly a proper move..” Kaeya spoke smoothly as she regained her footing, having almost tipped over into the shallow water. His hand let go of her wrist, His palm rather warm and leaving a rather pleasant heat in its wake.

[F/N] shook it off. Exhilarating. Observing the way he snapped right back to the gang of hilichurls.

Yet his eye darted backwards, A glint, landing just behind her.

“Keep an eye on your back, too.”

“Got it!” She grinned, her heel quickly spinning as her sword knocked back an oncoming Hilichurl, who babbled out at the sudden slash- No matter how flimsy.

The Domain seemed much bigger than it did on the outside, [F/N] prancing in, expecting to find some cramped, Dingy rooms filled with cobwebs. Somewhere she’d need to squeeze her body through, and presumably apologise to Amber later about dirtying her new clothes.

And granted, it did come with its fair share of cobwebs, but the spiders were few and far between. Instead, she had entered into a rather cavernous set of catacombs. Solid, Stone bricks fortifying the walls. Trims lined with the cold sheen of gold. The only light came from the flicker of fire coming from shoddy torches.

It didn’t take long for [F/N] to find out who had built them.

“Move your foot forward, don’t give the enemy any chance to counterattack!”

[F/N] nodded. The heel of her boot was digging into the stone, letting out a titter as she swung down her sword.

Words rushed onto her tongue, spilling out as if it were second-nature.

“Windblade..!”

“Yah!”

The hilichurl babbled out in surprise or pain as it stumbled backwards. The shoddy old shield fell to the ground along with the club it had. Charcoal ashes burned from the cut on its gaunt chest.

[F/N] breathed out, Energy exploding from her palms. Fingers twitching.

“Nice..” She breathed.

[F/N] stepped back, watching with interest as the hilichurl collapsed to the floor, exploding into nothing but dust in the wind.

“Do all creatures here die like that?” [F/N] called out to Kaeya, her sword pointed at the remaining few who still remained, waving their clubs.

“These are called Hilichurls, and yes, they happen to do so.. And I’m sure there’s more who do the same.” Kaeya responded as another one was knocked down effortlessly.

His words were proven true when [F/N] drove the hilt of her sword, however crudely, into the top of a pyro slime. She shivered at the texture, but didn’t take her eyes off it as it melted into nothing but sticky residue.

“I don’t need to guess what these are called..” [F/N] remarked under her breath. Sweat dripped clean down the side of her brow as she observed the residue. Barking out a huff, she handled the sword, slipping it back into the small leather strap attached to her corset.

Though as soon as she did, she heard a tutting sound from behind her.

A hand grasped her shoulder, Firm.

“Don’t be so quick to sheathe your sword.” Kaeya admonished, though that omnipresent smirk never seemed to leave his face. “You don’t know what might be lurking in the shadows, waiting for that opportune moment.”

[F/N] sighed, wiping the sweat off her brow.

“Sorry, Sorry.” She spoke, her lips upturning. “I guess I just got a bit too comfortable with the expert around.”

Her hand raised, Fingers dancing as they gripped his hand, just as tightly.

Kaeya’s eye narrowed along with the widening of his smile.

“Just because I’m an expert doesn’t mean you don’t watch your back,” Kaeya spoke as he tugged his hand off of her shoulder. [F/N] laughed under her breath. “That’s how you get a sword through the middle of it.”

He was the flirty kind of character. [F/N] hummed, A smile lifting upon her lips. She could deal with that.

“You’re the only blade wielder I see here, Captain Kaeya. Does this mean I need to be careful around you now?” She teased.

Kaeya chuckled.

“Maybe. You don’t know who might try to strike when you’re unguarded, It couldn’t help to be a bit.. Wary.”

[F/N] laughed at this, His words striking a chord in her. He was certainly a character, in more ways than one. She watched as he twirled his sword in his hand, observing the now-empty crypt in which they stood.

Nothing but the scorched ashes dancing off into the air.

“Don’t fall behind. If I’m not mistaken, the end of the temple should be just up there.” He called out as he waltzed forward, the clicks and clacks of his heels making their way down the stairs. [F/N] following close behind.

She could already see where he meant. A pinnacle visible through the broken ceiling of this domain, swirling, harnessing, bursting with what [F/N] now knew was some kind of power.

Funny.

[F/N]’s palms felt like a lightbulb still cooling off, fingertips still coursing with elemental energy- Or at least that’s what she thought it was. Whatever that ‘Windblade!’ was that took out that hilichurl certainly seemed elemental in nature..

Speaking of..

“There’s a real weird aura about this place.” [F/N] commented as she followed along with Kaeya. Her lips pursed. Eyes scanning the vicinity. “It’s like.. The elemental energy you told me about earlier with those vision thingamajigs. But it makes my skin crawl. Not in a fun way..”

Kaeya’s eye glinted.

“So you can sense it too?” He mused as they turned a corner, wordlessly avoiding the band of hilichurls situated in the other room.

[F/N] tilted her head.

“Sense what?”

“Nothing you need to worry about.”

[F/N] rolled her eyes, watching as he strutted ahead. Cryptic as he was, she couldn’t deny the eagerness to see what exactly it was- What that feeling was that made her ribs rattle so thoroughly in her chest.

They continued to move throughout the domain, the brick walls eroding and breaking to reveal a vast expanse of ashen gray skies and harsh winds that made her eyes dry out and her lips go coarse.

The wind roared as they navigated the domain with ease. [F/N] gawking at the roaring fire- Only to be pulled back by Kaeya when she had nudged too close. The slimes hopping around, making good targets- 

Truly, maybe being Isekai’d into a video game wasn’t too bad after all..

I mean, [F/N] had always been a big fan of such anime and manga ever since she laid eyes on the stuff. She had an entire collection under her bed filled with the Re:Zero and Inuyasha manga, It wasn’t like she was unfamiliar with the trope- Not at all.

But when it came to imagining herself in such a situation, [F/N] had never thought that it would be a good thing. 

Who wanted to be stuck in some unfamiliar world? Not understanding the rules or laws or how to survive- And [F/N] didn’t want to get started on how the protagonists got there in the first place. Dying.. Meeting some eldritch abomination that siphoned her there..  And don’t even get her started on Truck-Kun.

So [F/N] had always been content to leave it in fiction- Snapping the cover of her manga shut just to tuck it under her bed and call it a night.

[F/N] giggled slightly, her mind wandering off as she continued down the hall along with Kaeya. He had described all these wondrous things as they walked earlier- Visions, Elements, The Seven - 

Maybe she had been a bit too harsh on the idea of being Isekai’d..

“Careful now..”

[F/N] stopped, shaking out of her stupor as she looked down-

A pit of spikes lay below the ledge she was about to waltz off. Hidden under a layer of water that rippled, almost as if beckoning her foot forward. 

“We wouldn’t want you tripping again, would we?” Kaeya mused as he stood there, folding his arms. 

She suppressed a smile. 

“Ah.. Come on. I'm a beginner, surely you can give me a pass.” [F/N] rolled her eyes, though there was no annoyance in it. Hands running up to rest on her hips as she mock-glared at him. “You can at least admit that I'm not that much of a hazard, 

“That is correct.. As much of a beginner you are and how flimsy your skills may be.. You're better than the usual recruits.” Kaeya mused to himself as he sauntered forward, His sword still gripped in his hand as he moved towards the ledge. 

[F/N], Sensing something off, watched him closely. 

“Say.. It doesn't seem to me that you have an Anemo Vision.. Yet you're still able to control the element..” Kaeya commented. A remark on the surface, but [F/N] could feel something brewing just a bit deeper underneath. 

“Pretty much. I don't know how either- Just feels natural.” She responded idly. 

“I see..” Kaeya responded slowly. “For the common person, they'd need a vision to control even one of the seven elements. As such..”

[F/N]’s eyes widened as she saw the glow of the vision on his hip. Kaleidoscopic. The colour of the sunlight against dewy snow- A burst of spectral colours on a melting white canvas. 

“Woah..!” [F/N] gasped both in surprise and awe as she watched ice burst out from his fingertips. Mist and splinters. A cloud of tundra that came out like an avalanche from his very palms.

The water below them froze. Solid and firm. 

“..It would look like that,” Kaeya spoke, looking back at her awe with an almost prideful eye. He enjoyed the way she tittered at the edge now, a foot lowering, the tip of her boot pressing against the ice.

It didn’t crack or splinter.

[F/N] breathed out, her lips upturning as she set her foot down onto the ice now.

“Damn..” [F/N] marvelled. She swallowed back her trepidation as she finally stepped down onto the ice, her heels digging into the frost now. “So that’s the power of a vision? It’s pretty impressive, Captain Kaeya..!“

“If I’m being honest, this is rather simple for someone with a vision,” Kaeya spoke as he rested his hand onto his hip, flexing the other as if brandishing a weapon. “Which is why I should probably be calling you impressive for doing it without a vision.”

Kaeya spoke as he stepped down onto the ice with her, their bodies nearby- Both having to press closer to the center. [F/N] rolled her eyes as she looked up at him, feeling the warmth of his body in contrast to the frigid ice below.

“Hey, what can I say, I’m a natural..!“ [F/N] smirked as she lightly elbowed him. “Maybe I’m just special like that!”

Kaeya chuckled.

“Maybe you are.”

Another burst of mist exploded from his fingertips again, slowly but surely creating a bridge that they sauntered across, avoiding the spikes hidden under the water below. She nearly slipped a couple of times. Though [F/N] loved the heels Amber had provided for her, they certainly weren’t doing any favours for her on the ice.

She nearly slipped, gasping.

Kaeya’s arm was quicker.

“You seem to be making falling a habit.” He spoke, his tone sly as his hand rested on her back. “You might as well hold onto me.”

“So chivalrous..”

That got a chuckle.

Visions. [F/N] hummed to herself as he guided her along the ice bridge, an energy lying up ahead she couldn’t help but be attracted to. Was it the same kind of energy that Kaeya had used to create ice? No.. [F/N] didn’t think so.

It was pulsating. Corrupted, yet coursing through her veins like a drug. 

No doubt there was something strong up ahead. Maybe not in the physical, hulking, muscular sense, but in a mystical- Never seen before sense. Something that could be stabbed and wouldn’t take it lying down.

Something [F/N] was just itching to tear her nails into.

She grinned as they finally got to the other side, her heels clicking as she quickly hopped to the other side. Not bothering to look back as she sprinted forward, turning around corners and hopping up stone steps.

The energy grew closer.

Her eyes flickered like a broken bulb, yet they were bright, fixing on anything- anything that could entice her to draw the blade around her hip.

She skidded forward, heels digging into the stone-

“And that is the end of your crash course.”

“..Excuse me?”

She stopped, pausing; it was like a pin had dropped in the room.

[F/N] turned around, her eyes wide as she watched Kaeya catch up to her without issue. Strolling along with that ever-smug expression on his face, slowly clapping, though it seemed.. Somewhat impressed?

“For a beginner, you pick up on the basics quite well.” Kaeya applauded as he stopped a few feet away from her. “Of course, I can’t say you’d be competent on your own, or that you could hold yourself in a proper fight. But you can handle the regular hilichurl or slime on your own.”

What?

[F/N] stood there not moving a muscle, her face fallen, eyes blank as she registered the words he had just spoken to her. A breeze continued to drift throughout the room she had just rushed into, the open space bearing opportunity yet..

Was he saying..

“Wait.. hold on. Are you saying that we’re not going to go any further..?” [F/N] spoke, her voice controlled as she looked at him. Her fingers twitched as she stared at him, wide-eyed.

“We can end our training here.“  Kaeya spoke, folding his arms as he glanced at her. His gaze locked right on the dissonance of her face. “We’ve reached the source of Stormterror’s power, I can handle it from here.”

[F/N] stopped.

Wait.. No.

That’s not..

She turned her head, taking a glance behind her. 

It was a stone, the colour of sunstruck leaves in the wind. Glowing. Radiating. The source of that enticing elemental power that called to her like a siren at sea. [F/N] could almost feel saliva pooling in the bed of her mouth, just begging to grab the hilt of her sword and dig in to reach that flavour -

And he wanted her to just.. What? Go home? Call it a day?

“But.. But I want to continue-” [F/N] tried to say, her voice wavering slightly.

“There wouldn’t be any point. All that’s left is to just dismantle the power source, and I don’t need any help for that.”

His words rang in the air, an echo in her ears. She opened her mouth to speak, considering her words for a moment. [F/N]’s voice dropped to a flatline, quiet and steady as she looked down at her shoes.

“I just..”

“If you want to keep yourself occupied, perhaps you should look around the Adventurer’s Guild,” Kaeya suggested, cutting her off. “If you plan to stay in Mondstadt for a while, then the Adventurer’s Guild would be a way of getting extra cash. That, and you get the opportunity to explore. Not just in Mondstadt, the Guild spans across Teyvat, of course.”

The Adventurer’s Guild..? [F/N] blinked, the words foreign to her ears. It was.. Unsettling. Disturbing how a knot began to form in the pit of her stomach. Twisting and turning, sinking deeper and deeper into the depths.

Kaeya’s words barely even registered with her anymore.

“If you’re looking for something to do, why don’t you go sign up?”

She paused for a moment.

“..Alright. I’ll.. go do that.” [F/N] trailed off, just staring blankly at him, as if deep in thought. She.. She should go sign up. The Adventurer’s Guild. Adventure. She should go sign up at The Adventurer’s Guild to go.. Adventure.

Right.

[F/N] blinked before turning around in a languid motion. Her eyes untrained as she began to walk off, her arms pressed to their sides-

“How about we go out for a drink sometime? Consider it a celebration. I know a good tavern, and you can tell me about your time with The Guild over a glass.” Kaeya called out to her, his voice cool and composed as he watched her walk away.

[F/N] nodded, but she didn’t stop walking- Nor did she look back at him. 

“Yeah.. Uhm. I’ll see you then.” [F/N] called back, though her voice barely echoed as she stepped out of the room, back into the expanse of the domain. The cold air hit her skin, but she didn’t shiver. Not one bit.

She didn’t feel.. Right.

Kaeya watched as she stumbled off, her form getting lower as she descended the steps. The clicking of her boots getting further and further away, echoing, until he could no longer hear her.

Just as he thought..

He hummed, ignoring the presence of the abyssal mage beginning to emerge from a pillar behind him. Chittering with a rotten tongue, the verses of an acursed spell. It was nothing new, of course-

But she, on the other hand?

She wasn’t talented with a sword by any means, but she picked it up like an old skill- Grabbing the hilt with a sort of excited fascination. If it came down to it, she wouldn’t be able to do any real damage. Not to someone like him or any other person with basic training.

In that regard, Kaeya didn’t need to worry about it.

However, the way her nose twitched when she sensed abyssal energy, the way she commanded the air to swirl and vacuum without the help of a vision. It came to her like a heeling dog, obeyed her, swirling with one hell of a bite.

There was something off about her.

Too off.

And Kaeya would find out what it was.

One way or another.

“Knights of Favonius, Always so insufficient..”

⭒❅✸✪✸❅⭒

The sun was held high in the sky, beaming, smiling down from where it was placed.

It was unfortunate that Mondstadt didn’t get to see or enjoy it.

Flower pots were knocked and cracked on their sides. Wine bottles shattered on the stone. It was strange to see the ivy and moss that festered on the buildings, now ripped into salad and spread like garnish throughout the city.

The atmosphere around them was shrouded in a grey mist that had gathered, the aftereffects of Stormterrors' wrath. The sky was dark and thunderous. Tree leaves continued to fly by with a whistle, out into the broken and chipped streets.

The roof’s in need of retiling—signs ripped from their post. Fresh fruit smashed, their remains spilled from their display boxes.

“So.. What can you tell me about The Adventurer’s Guild?”

[F/N] skipped along the cobbled streets of Mondstadt, Paimon floating idly by her side as she pranced along. She waved to the occasional person who was busy sweeping rubble or picking up fallen roof tiles, wishing them a good morning, all the while conversing with her companion.

The people were surprisingly.. Friendly with her. More friendly than [F/N] expected.

The scent of spoiled fruit and fresh wind entered her nose, caressing her cheeks and entwining in her hair.

“The Adventurer’s Guild.. Right! Paimon remembers! The Adventurer’s Guild is an organisation that hires people to do quests!” Paimon spoke happily as she flew along, drifting by her side.

[F/N] raised a brow.

“Quests? Quests for whom?”

“Uhhhmm.. Paimon isn’t sure.. Paimon isn’t exactly an adventurer. Are you going to sign up?“

“Well.. Unfortunately, yes. I’m gonna need to get a job. I need food, clothes.. I need a lot of things, actually- Now that I’m thinking about it.” [F/N] groaned as she rubbed her temples. God, she felt like she was eighteen again and doing the walk of shame to an interview.

Would she need to interview?

[F/N] shivered as she recalled the stuffy rooms filled with whirring AC. Being forced into a beige dress and a sanquine smile as she tittered off answers to every question they threw at her..

And then never getting a call back.

“Bleugh. I’m getting all icky and depressed again.” [F/N] stuck out her tongue in disgust as she rounded the corner. She shook off the chills that crawled up her like caterpillars. “Come on, Paimon, the quicker we get there, the bette-”

Oh, curse her lack of spatial awareness.

“Ah! Traveller..!” Paimon cried as she watched [F/N] stumble on her feet, her feet scrambling to keep their balance as she fell back. Books and binders of parchment falling around her like rainfall as she tumbled back onto her backside.

“Ow..!” [F/N] yelped, rubbing her forehead, which had been roughly slammed into some strange solid surface. She groaned—a dull ache in her noggin, which seemed to only worsen with every rub.

“Are you alright?”

A calm and somewhat monotone voice called from above her.

“Eh..?” 

Looking up from her daze, she spotted a younger man. [F/N] blinked. He was of medium height and stood almost perfectly straight. Striking blue eyes like the once clear sky looked down at her, observant as they analysed her condition.

Perfect skin. Perfect blonde hair, groomed to perfection.

“O-Oh no..” A girl with vibrant green hair gasped from behind him, a hand over her mouth, and a flushed face at what had happened.

Uh oh, had she bumped into someone important?

“Aw, jeez. That was my fault, I was distracted and knocked into you- lemme help you pick these up-!” [F/N] blurted out, quickly sweeping the dust off of her clothes as she scrambled to pick up the fallen books from the street. Plucking papers and organising them back into their binders.

He swiftly knelt to assist, helping her reorganise his things.

“It isn’t a problem. It was just an accident.” He spoke, his voice unbothered as he took the books and parchment paper from her hands. “Though I suggest keeping an eye on where you’re going for next time.”

[F/N] felt embarrassment creep up on her.

“Yeah.. My bad, my guy.” [F/N] laughed awkwardly as she got up from where she had collapsed on the floor. She shook off the remaining dirt on her attire, nodding to them both. “I hope I didn’t break anything, don’t exactly got the mone- mora on me to pay for it.”

“Everything seems fine.” He spoke as he examined his luggage. He nodded before looking back up at her. “Besides, these books are durable. Hard covers. I doubt a simple fall would be enough to damage them.”

“Ah.. Great. So no property damage..” [F/N] sighed in relief, metaphorically wiping the sweat off her brow.

Looking between the two new faces, the man she had bumped into and the girl behind him, with reddened cheeks, she didn’t recognise either of them. Though [F/N] did take particular note of the girl’s vulpine ears nestled in her ears, that, and the odd diamond shape on the man’s neck.

[F/N] felt her curiosity spark.

Just who were these two?

Thankfully, Paimon had the courtesy of asking that for her.

“Who are you two anyway? Paimon’s never seen you two before..!” Her chipper voice called out, seemingly just as curious as [F/N] was about their identities.

Albedo turned his attention to her. Though his gaze remained composed, calm, [F/N] could see the hint of aloofness. Did he look at everyone like that?

“I am Albedo, Chief Alchemist of the Knights of Favonius.” He, now Albedo, introduced himself as. His hand pressed idly to his chest as he greeted her. He nodded towards the girl behind him. “And this is Sucrose. She is currently serving as my assistant.”

“G-Good morning..! I hope you didn’t hurt yourself..!” Sucrose greeted, resettling the rims on her face. 

[F/N] tilted her head to the side.

Albedo and Sucrose, huh?

Well, [F/N] certainly didn’t know what their deal was, but they looked to be rather important considering the way they stood out from the crowd. Hair that shone like gold, a bob of alchemical green chasing after it. And don’t even get her started on the eyes, both of them had colours that could cause a myriad of questions.

[F/N] could barely contain her curiosity.

“Oh, I’m fine..! Don’t worry about it. It’s my bad for not looking where I was going, I’m just a bit new around here, you see.” [F/N] grinned, waving off Sucrose’s concern with a reassuring look.

Albedo blinked.

“I see.. You don’t seem like you’re from around here, but I can’t quite place where you come from.” 

“I’m [F/N] [L/N]..! I can’t tell you where I’m from since I have amnesia and all, but I arrived here recently with my travel buddy Paimon over here! Nice to crash into you, Albedo, Sucrose.” [F/N] grinned as she stuck out her hand, presenting it to either of the two with a spark in her eyes. 

Albedo’s eyes widened a touch, as if processing the name.

“[F/N] [L/N].. Yes. I’ve heard about you.” He spoke as he took her hand, a firm, methodical shake as they took each other in. 

“Heard about me? I only arrived a few days ago.” [F/N] raised a brow.

“Yes. Heard about you. You were the one to drive off Stormterror.” Albedo murmured as he raised her arm mid-shake. [F/N] letting out a small “Ehh..?” of confusion as he started to examine the muscles and tendons in her wrist. 

[F/N] blinked. Hold on..

“Wait.. People know about that?” She asked, tilting her head as she watched him play around with her joints.

“Yes. While we were travelling down from Dragonspine, I had heard from the townsfolk about a woman who had been lifted into the sky during the recent attack.” Albedo explained, his brows furrowing as his gaze turned to her general figure. “You had been seen using anemo-related abilities to drive Stormterror away from the city.. Yet I don’t see a vision on your person.”

Ahhh.. A vision. That thing Kaeya was talking about yesterday.

“Ohhh.. Right. I don’t have one of those.” [F/N] scratched the back of her head. “I can just use Anemo powers without the need for a Vision. I’m guessing people haven’t been talking about that part?”

“No. However, it’s fascinating..” Albedo seemed in a world of his own as he absorbed this information, his eyes wide as he finally let her arm go free. “To use elemental abilities without a vision..”

Paimon and Sucrose observed the two’s interactions on the side. Paimon looked rather antsy while Sucrose fiddled with her thumbs for the fifth time since they started talking, both perplexed by their companion’s conversation.

“Erm..What is going on?” Paimon commented, folding her little arms in confusion. 

Sucrose’s eyes widened, looking at the weird little anaemic fairy.

“I.. Uhhhh..”

Albedo turned to look up at [F/N] in contemplation as he finally took a step back. How strange. When he had come down from Dragonspine in light of the recent Stormterror attacks, he didn’t expect the excited chatter of Mondstadtians.

A woman lifted into the storm, driving off the attacking dragon. A sign from Barbatos? The whispers had spoken. An omen? A forecast of hope? Someone who was sent by Anemo Archon himself? 

Albedo couldn’t say. Of course, not every result could be calculated. And it was only through testing and experiments that a theory and eventual outcome could be made.

“I would like to study you.” Albedo stated plainly, his voice assured. “If I had the time, I would ask for us to start immediately. But currently, I am occupied with Stormterror and assisting with the repairs to the city, however, when we have the opportunity, I would ask if you let me perform some experiments based on your elemental abilities.”

“Wait, wait, wait-! Study her..?! You make it sound like The Traveller’s an animal..!” Paimon gasped, her eyes going wide at the audacity of Albedo.

“Hold on, Paimon, no need to be so hasty.” [F/N] cut in, her eyes focused on Albedo. “What kind of experiments are we talking about?”

“It’s hard to say, considering I haven’t seen you in action before, however, I’d assume there would be general fighting and combat assessments and..”

“Done!” [F/N] grinned.

A gasp rang out from beside her.

“Hey..! Paimon doesn’t think you should be agreeing to something like this..!!” Paimon squeaked as she quickly floated over to [F/N]. “I mean, we barely even know who these guys are..!”

“It’s fine, Paimon..!” [F/N] laughed, her voice assured as she looked at her companion. Patting her back, “We can do pleasantries beforehand. Get a cup of tea, have idle chit-chat, then we can get onto the fighting slash experimentation.”

Paimon didn’t seem too comforted by that. Albedo, on the other hand, nodded as he settled the cargo in his arm, nodding as he got her approval for further testing.

“I see.. So you are open to the idea. I’m glad.” He spoke. Though his tone remained balanced, [F/N] could see a hint of gratitude hidden behind the surface of his eyes. “We must get going now, however, please don’t hesitate to come find me later on. I am usually situated on Dragonspine. If you need the location, you could ask the acting Grand Master or Timeaus near the city center. Thank you for your time.”

[F/N] nodded as she spoke her goodbyes to the two alchemists, a grin as she waved to Albedo and Sucrose, already anticipating the future visit to wherever Dragonspine was for testing. What an interesting pair they were, Albedo certainly wasn’t the only one with questions to ask.

She watched as they walked off, heading towards the Knights of Favonious Headquarters. Albedo is making his way along with Sucrose stumbling in tow.

“What a pair.. Eh, Paimon?” [F/N] sighed in contentment, glancing over at her companion.

“You could say that, alright.. Paimon’s never seen such audacity! He was looking at you like some kinda animal in a cage!”

“I’m an interesting specimen, I’ll take it as a compliment.” [F/N] hummed, stretching her arms. “Besides, I’m more miffed by the fact that there were people who saw me up there in the sky that day. Call that embarrassing..”

Embarrassing? Not really, more of a conversational term for her right now. [F/N] had assumed that it was just The Knights of Favonious that had the pleasure of watching her flail about mid-air, however, the fact that it was seen by more than just a few was a bit of an.. Unexpected twist.

People were talking. Chatting. Gossiping. That must have been why people had been openly friendly to her earlier..

[F/N] hummed. At least she made a good impression.

“Oh, whatever. Paimon still isn’t sure about those guys..” Paimon huffed, shaking her head in dramatic dislike.

“We can make a judgment about them later, don’t worry, Paimon. But right now I think we'd better get back to our own business, eh?” [F/N] grinned as she gestured at the pathway ahead. The Adventurers Guild, according to the locals she had spoken to, was growing fairly near.

Paimon quickly calmed down, though, muttering grievances about the situation under her breath. [F/N] giggled airily at her words, patting the fairy on her back as they continued to skip down the cobbled path. Heels clicking. 

[F/N]’s eyes gleamed, catching sight of a booth with a four-pointed star.

Bingo.

Though, somewhere not too far on in the city, where the houses remained damaged and in need of repair, Albedo and his dutiful assistant continued their trek towards the Headquarters. Their journey was lengthy, and the trouble the city went through even more so.

Sucrose was already muttering thoughts under her breath.

Albedo, however, deemed it best to keep his silent.

His body felt strangely odd. Tingly, yet it seemed like it was covered in a sheet of slush and ice. Albedo twitched. Could it have been the lingering effects from his time on Dragonspine? No, impossible.. The journey from Dragonspine to the city took a day to complete.. The effects would have been rendered completely null by now.

But his body still felt like it was thawing under an inferno. Melting. Chipping. Drenching it in a wave of cold heat that left him scalded.

“Mr. Albedo..?”

Sucrose’s voice rang out from in front of him.

He had stopped midway through his walk, his boots digging into the ground as he was suddenly snapped out of his train of thought. 

“How strange..” Albedo mumbled.

[sparklemaia]

Heyyy!!

So I've recently read a lot of your comics about top surgery, and I really resonate with your experience (I haven't had it myself but I'd like to). I've recently been exploring my own gender and realising I might be non binary, but I guess I feel sort of an imposter in that I want to keep my name and pronouns (afab), despite feeling like I never got the memo about what a "woman" is, which I know is fine, but I guess I was wondering how the shift from your agab into realising you were nb felt?

Like, you seem to describe your gender as sort of unknowable and indefinable, and I guess that's sort of how I feel? I just want to be... More me. I guess what I'm really asking is, how would you define/feel about that shift into realising you were nonbinary, do you still feel connected to your agab, how do you reconcile the two?

Sorry for the long ask!

Hi, this is such a good question! I actually DO still feel pretty connected to my agab. I feel like I am a girl but also more than a girl but also not enough of a girl, simultaneously. (Weirdly, I never ever feel like a woman, and definitely not a man, but I do feel like an adult at least some of the time.) Top surgery was 100% the right decision for me; my body feels so much more correct and I am grateful every single day this procedure was accessible to me. (I was on a low dose of T for a year and a half too, and I basically just got biceps and a sliiiightly lower voice out of it. We stan.) I simply don't have strong feelings about how these things do or do not map onto gender identity or other people's perceptions of my gender. I am generally perceived as female, and that's fine! Like, close enough! I often feel somewhere BETWEEN cis and trans, or even between cis and nonbinary, and sometimes I joke that I'm just "nonbinary for insurance purposes." I mostly use she/her pronouns, although won't object to they/them. I like my "feminine" name -- I chose it myself years ago for reasons unrelated to gender and I have no plans to change it again. In terms of gender presentation I'm usually somewhere in the "tomboy femme" zone. Basically, I've been through a medical transition but not a social transition. Which is not very common, or at least I haven't seen much representation of it! (Be the bad trans representation you want to see in the world, i guess??)

Even though the words are often used interchangeably, I feel more alliance to genderqueer as a label than nonbinary, because nonbinary feels too clinical and "third checkbox"y to me, whereas genderqueer feels more expansive and undefinable and dynamic, with space for the ways in which I both am and am not performing girlhood correctly. When pressed to pick a gender word for myself, that one feels the closest. But if I'm filling out a government form or whatever? Yeah sure F is fine.

A lot of where I land with this stuff, though, is just kind of relaxing my grip on language. Top surgery was a relief, it helped me feel present in and connected to my body. Ultimately it doesn't matter much to me how much of that was *gender* dysphoria and how much of it was just... something I wanted, a way to make my body feel more like mine, to align my mental image of myself with the thing I had to stuff into clothes and walk around the city every day. I believe very strongly in bodily autonomy, and in making our lives as easy and comfortable and joyful as we can for ourselves, without needing to have a clean and tidy explanation for our choices. It is very possible to know with reasonable certainty that you want something, that it will be a net positive for your life, without being able to articulate, even to yourself, WHY you want it. It doesn't need to have a bigger meaning than ahh yes, this feels right. At this point in my life, I'm more invested in marveling at the sheer improbability of my own existence than in wedging myself into the taxonomy of known and acceptable gender narratives. I'm just a person, here for the merest twinkle of a moment in cosmic history, making soup and knitting baby hats and admiring bugs and singing off-key and cutting my own hair and doing my gosh darn best to light my tiny patch of night sky with stories so that you (and you, and you) feel less alone on your own journey through the unfurling dark. Gender is just such an inconsequential detail in the narrative of my life, and pretty open to reader interpretation anyway.

Not having to wear bras is pretty great though ngl

[genderqueerdykes]

i dont know why, but your butch post got me thinking about about yet another problem the lgbtqia+ community has: prelabeling people as tops/bottoms. and even being disgusted with/erasing switches, which I've seen a lot. I'm a lesbian. i don't consider myself butch or fem because I'm not comfortable with those labels, but to the outside eye I do seem a little butch. i remember when I was in highschool I had a friend who always said I was "top-coded" and always called me a top. as a bottom and now a questioning aro/ace spec that shit made me so uncomfortable. and I told her that many times, but she just used the shitty "its just a joke" excuse. like omfg shut up

holy shit thank you because i literally wanted to talk about this in that post but wasn't sure if it would make it too long. you messaged me at exactly the right time, thank you so much because this bugs the hell out of me too

that's soooooo gross, i'm sorry that person was saying that to you. first of all that's literally none of their business, you really shouldn't just say that to someone. what the fuck does "top coded" even mean? not all tops are the same, there's literally all kinds of different top dynamics. also i think people get top/bottom and dom/sub mixed up, too, which is even more frustrating. they're not mutually exclusive, they don't mean the same thing. you can be a dominant bottom, or a submissive top. power bottoms are a thing. service tops are a thing.

i literally hate that people inherently assume that butches are tops and femmes are bottoms. like it's just kinda written in stone that femmes have to be submissive pillow princesses and butches have to be tops that take care of all of their needs and barely have theirs addressed at all. like, what about the butches who are bottoms? what about the femmes who are tops? also like you mentioned, do people literally not realize switches exist...? like that's literally also an option.

"butch" does not mean "top". "femme" does not mean "bottom". it's soooo gender essentialist and binarist to go. masc partner = top fem partner = bottom. you just recreated the cishet binary *again*. i can't get over how this is NOT progressive. i do NOT get why white cis lesbians think it's progressive to force butch lesbians to behave exactly like we expect cis men to behave, and force femme lesbians to behave exactly like we expect cis women to behave, but it's NOT PROGRESSIVE!

also, great point, which is that a lot of lesbians are ace. it's so shitty for someone to sit there and try to guess if you're a top or bottom when you're not even interested in sex. honestly is' gross as hell to analyze your friends' and prospective partners behaviors and categorize them into top or bottom. what the hell is wrong with people. that's not a joke, that's invasive, and creepy.

[sashaisready]

This Must Be The Place: Chapter 6 - Nothing's wrong

Biker!Bucky x Femme Reader

Back at your beloved late grandmother's home to pack up her house, you have a run-in with the town's biker gang 'The Howling Commandos' and find yourself entangled with the metal armed President.

Series Masterlist

Warnings: Nothing specific, I don’t think? Bucky still being a dick. But what else is new?

I think you guys are going to find this satisfying hehehehe.

You marched back to the bar with your head held high, refusing to allow yourself to look over at Amber and Bucky and tie yourself up in knots any longer. You checked the time on your phone and placed it on the bar shelf behind you, almost closing. You’d finish up, then when you got home you’d think about if you really want to stay in this job.

“Gonna do last call, Tom, then I’ll cash out and if you could start cleaning up”.

“Got it, boss” he replied happily.

You smiled back. You absolutely weren’t his boss, but he was sweet.

You rang the bell for last call and announced it loudly to the bar. A few of the plant guys came rushing over to order their last beers. Tom handled that while you served a couple of other dawdlers.

A tall man in a baseball cap appeared suddenly, grinning as he brandished a $20 bill.

“For you,” he said softly. “For putting up with our annoying, drunk asses all night”.

You chuckled, accepting the tip as you looked at him properly. You’d seen him earlier with the other plant guys but not really paid much attention as your focus was on the obscene number of drinks his friends kept ordering.

He was…kinda cute. A scruff of almost reddish-brown hair under his cap. Big green eyes. A dusting of stubble across his chin and jaw. Not quite as big as Bucky, but broad and sturdy.

“Ah well thank-you so much...you guys kept me busy…and I got a bunch of tips, so I guess I can’t complain,” you told him cheerily as you folded the bill and put it in your pocket. “Plus, you’ve all been well behaved, despite how much you’ve knocked back”.

“Well…this bar has the most bouncers we’ve ever seen,” he joked, thumbing the air in the direction of the MC.

You laughed. “True…that does make my job a little easier”.

“I’m sure being super cute helps too,” he grinned as he leaned in. Then his face immediately crumpled. “Oh…my god. I’m sorry. So, so lame. It sounded so smooth in my head…”

You giggled shyly, charmed by his embarrassment. “No…no it was sweet. Thanks…”

You felt yourself blushing a little, heat rushing to your cheeks as you were caught off guard by this interaction. Your previous anger melting away. You felt lighter suddenly.

“I’m Peter. Peter Quill. Hey”.

You beamed back and offered your own name as you shook the hand he’d extended to you.

You both looked at one another for a moment, your smile stretching as you allowed yourself to bathe in his attention.

“It’s last call man, you orderin’?” came a surly voice from behind Peter.

Bucky suddenly had appeared at the bar, his eyes flitting between you both.

“Uh…no, I’m good for tonight, thanks. Was just tipping your very helpful bartender before I head out”.

You smiled back at him, ignoring the heat of Bucky’s gaze on you.

“Yes…thank-you. Very much appreciated, Peter,” you responded.

You both turned to look at Bucky who seems to blanch as you use Peter’s name, but he makes no effort to move. He looked…pissed off? Riled up? His fists were clenched at his sides, his mouth a thin straight line. You weren’t sure why he was suddenly hanging around here like a bad smell, especially as he had been indisposed all evening.

Wait…is Bucky…?

Peter looked back at you, then awkwardly at Bucky, then back to you again. “Could I…uh…”

Realisation hit you like a freight train.

Oh god. He is…

…He’s jealous.

Bucky is jealous.

Peter looked at Bucky once more who remained still, watching Peter carefully. Peter seemed to accept that he had an awkward audience of one and looked back at you again before clearing his throat.

“Maybe…uh…I could get your number and we could…y’know…go out some time?”

Your face lit up and you ignored the almost imperceptible sound of the puff of air Bucky huffed out of his noise.

 “Uh…sure. Great”.

You grabbed a napkin from the holder on the bar and a pen from your pocket and scribbled down your number, practically nauseous with the dual feeling of getting a date with a cute guy and Bucky bearing witness to it. You smiled at Peter as you pushed the napkin across the bar with your fingers.

He picked it up like it was a precious artefact, holding it close to his face as he inspected it.

“Wow…right amount of numbers and everything,” he joked.

You giggled back bashfully. “Yep…I promise it’s real and not the number of a pizza place or something…”

“Honestly? I’d be impressed you had the the number for the pizza place memorised even if it did mean I was rejected…”

You both laughed and he carefully folded up the napkin and put it in his pocket. At the same time, a bunch of his group had started to down the dregs of their drinks and drift towards the exit. One nudged him on the arm as he passed, mumbling something about ‘Rocket’ being designated driver. Whatever the hell that means.

“Well…better get going. I’ll uh…see ya” he smiled.

You nodded and smiled in return as he turned and headed out. Once he’d left, you kept your eyes down and picked up a washcloth, rhythmically dabbing at the sticky drink residue on the bar surface. You could feel Bucky still looming over you, but he hadn’t said anything. You sprayed some cleaning fluid and continued.

“You’re still on the clock you know,” he muttered.

“Oh...Am I not working right now?” you asked ingenuously as you kept your eyes down on your busywork. You knew your tone was pushing it, but frankly, so was he.

“You are now…but you weren’t…then”.

The emphasis on ‘then’ was loaded and it was clear what 'then' exactly he was referring to.

“Well…I’m sorry you lost those three minutes,” you answered sharply, turning to look at him. You narrowed your eyes at his stoic frown. “How about I stay an extra three minutes after my shift…and we call it even?”

He glared back at you, knowing he didn’t have a leg to stand on and so was unable to say anything back. He'd never been strict about you chatting to customers or taking short breaks before, so he couldn't suddenly start now.

“I need to speak to you anyway,” you continued calmly as you resumed your cleaning. “About this job”.

You looked back up at him and swore you saw a flash of panic in his eyes, but it was gone so fast you couldn’t be sure.

Suddenly Amber bounded up to the bar, oblivious to the strange tension between the two of you. You suppressed an eye roll and went back to your washcloth.

“Bucky…the girls have asked if there’s an after party tonight?” she asked coyly, draping herself over him like a scarf.

Your phone vibrated loudly on the bar shelf behind you, causing both you and Bucky to glance over at it. He couldn’t fully see from his vantage point, but you watched as Wanda’s name flashed up on the screen. She was texting you, not a super keen Peter on his way home.

But Bucky didn’t know that…

“Don’t worry, boss,” you told him sweetly. “I won’t pick that up until I’m off the clock”.

His nose wrinkled and for a split second he looked like a wounded puppy. If he wasn’t such an asshole you might have felt sorry for him.

“James?” Amber whined. “Party?”

You looked at him incredulously, an eyebrow cocked. His real name was James?!

He was the least Jamesy James you’d ever met.

“Nope, not tonight” he sternly replied to her, but his eyes stayed on you.

“Tell Sam you need a ride, Ambs. I gotta do some work stuff”.

And with that, he stormed off to the back office.

Amber pouted as she watched him go, then looked back at you. “What’s up with him?”

You shrugged. “Beats me”.

She sighed and flopped down onto a bar stool, then began rifling through the napkins and straws, causing a small pile of them to spill out onto the bar. Great, thanks Amber. You hadn’t just refilled those or anything.

“He talks about you, you know” she told you softly as she looked down at an errant straw, perfectly manicured fingers wrapping around it.

You nearly spluttered laughing in shock. “Me?” you asked her.

Never in a million years did you expect her to say that.

“Mmm…” she purred as she put the straw in her mouth, chewing on it thoughtfully. Ugh, she really was pretty.

“Like he says you’re good at your job and stuff. But also that you’re funny. And smart. And stuff like that”.

You tilted your head as you looked at her, the wind taken out of your sails from the sheer shock of what she was telling you.

“Huh…” you responded as you try to downplay your sudden interest. “Well…that’s nice of him, I guess”.

“Ya…” she nodded.

“Amber…?” you asked.

She looked up at you and smiled.

“Is he really called James?”

She giggled. “Ya. He’s like...James Buchanan. Buchanan is his middle name. So, they all call him Bucky. He only lets certain people call him James. Special privileges”.

“I see,” you nodded. “Like you, huh?”

She sighed, pouting sadly. “Mmm…but…I dunno how ‘special’ I really am these days”.

Before you could ask what she meant, she changed the subject suddenly.

“Saw you talking to that guy from the plant. He was cute”. She grinned at you.

You found yourself laughing at the sudden tone shift and the excited glee on her face. Maybe she wasn’t so bad.

“Yeah…he is,” you nodded. “I haven’t really been on the dating scene for a while though. Not sure if I remember how…”

You weren’t sure why you told her that…

She just giggled. “Oh…shut up. Look at you. You’re a total hottie. You’ll be great”.

You felt your cheeks flush, but before you could say anything else she stood up from the bar stool and called out across the bar.

“Saaaammy. I need a ride!”

“I got you, baby girl!” he called back.

She grinned at you as she sauntered off. “Well…good luck with cute guy”.

You watched her go, slightly shell shocked by the whole exchange.

Huh. That was…a lot.

*

Steve told you he’d lock up so after cleaning up and cashing out, you bid Tom and the MC farewell and headed out to the parking lot. You hadn’t seen Bucky…James…since his dramatic exit. But you couldn’t help but mull over what Amber had told you. What did she mean, ‘he talks about you’? What does he say exactly? How does he say it? What did she mean when she said she didn’t feel special these days? Did she know about your kiss?

And Bucky was clearly jealous of Peter, right? He wasn’t subtle about it. But he had ignored you all evening until that happened. Maybe it was just territorial bullshit rather than anything deeper.

Speaking of Peter…why were you even thinking about Bucky? You now had this sweet, funny guy on the cards who was upfront about his interest in you…unlike Bucky.

…So why couldn’t you just focus on him?

You sighed. You shouldn’t be getting involved with any man right now. It all had an expiration date anyway. You were here to sort the house and that was that. Granny would tease you for allowing yourself to get distracted, just like always.

As you approached your car, you nearly jumped out of your skin as you realised there was a dark figure leaning against the bonnet.

“Bucky! Jesus fuckin’ Christ…” you scolded as you placed a hand on your chest. “You scared the shit out of me”.

He stopped leaning, standing back up to his full height.

“We need to talk, Sugar” he said bluntly.

[moonflowerdamie]

rating yellowjackets ships (lowest to highest!) because i am bored and also because i want people to know just how insane i am for some of the pairings in this show‼️ LETSGOOOOO

•travnat—3/10•

they’re…ok i guess? like. i don’t actively hate them, but i really don’t ship them. and yeah i get that they clung to each other and bonded over dad trauma and stuff, but a) i don’t like travis (PLS DONT ATTACK ME HE’S JUST NOT FOR ME AND I COULDNT GET OVER THE MISOGYNY) and b) i fully believe natalie scatorccio is AT LEAST bisexual and deserves a lady lover!!! so yeah. not for me.

•mistynat—4/10•

ok. OK. hear me out PLEASE bc i know some people are gonna be mad i’ve put them this low. i just don’t really see it? like i fully believe that it’s possible misty had a crush on nat in the teen timeline and i’m pretty convinced adult misty was definitely infatuated/obsessed with adult nat BUT i don’t think nat ever reciprocated? and i can’t see her ever feeling that way about misty IM SORRY. i don’t hate the ship by any means, it’s just not my favourite!!!

•jackielot—5/10•

they’re both pretty femme lesbians and i think maybe they should smooch (and then smooch ME MY GAWD PLS ONE CHANCE😫🙏🏻). that’s all i have to say about that.

•shaunanat—5/10•

i just know the rivalry in s3 is gonna HIT and maybe they should kiss and make up about it (AND THEN KISS ME TOO MY FUCKING LORD I NEED THEM BOTH SO BAD🫦). but fr i mean like a cute idea in another world yk? they would SO bully the shit out of each other and then fuck nasty about it🤝.

•crystal x misty (crusty😭)—6/10•

they were cute!!! they matched each other’s freak🥹 until misty freaked a little too hard 😔 no but actually they could’ve been cute musical theatre gfs and i would’ve been here for it!!!

•taishauna—6/10•

i LOVE their friendship in both timelines and i do prefer them platonically BUT i see the potential. i think they soften each other, and allow the other to process and feel their emotions, and also help to rationalise them. LOVE the friendship and if i didn’t prefer their other ships i could defo see myself getting into them!

•lottielee—7/10•

the disciple and the prophet??? uhhh YEAH. i mean laura lee literally haunts lottie for 25 YEARS. that bitch NEVER got over what they had. are they my favourite ship? no. do i wish they’d kissed in that lake? YES YES YES YES YES. the yearning, the religious symbolism/guilt, the TENDERNESS. i am IN.

•lottieshauna—8/10•

BRRSKLLAKSKS just yes. YES. THE PROPHET AND HER BUTCHER😫. their relationship is so complicated and beautiful but i think they could be very special, specifically in the teen timeline. they’re so fiercely protective of each other but would never admit it. they hate each other. they admire each other. they resent each other. THEY LOVE EACH OTHER. i wholeheartedly believe lottie was shauna’s bi awakening when they were like 13 and shauna never really stopped thinking lottie was gorgeous. just. THEM.

•jackienat—8/10•

i am a SUCKER for the popular x loser trope and even more so when they’re LESBIANS😁 like lottie was shauna’s awakening, nat was jackie’s. ONE MILLION PERCENT they were childhood besties and one day they kissed ‘to practice’ when they were like 11 and jackie was like ‘OH😨’ and knew then and THERE she was a lesbian. i love them your honour. like shaunanat, i think they’d bully each other, but i also think they’d be so soft with each other. OH and nat would SO tease jackie for being popular and rich and preppy and call her ‘princess’ in jest but would for real treat her like a princess and would beat up anyone who said a bad word about her. yes PLEASEEEEE.

•taivan—10/10•

THEEE IT COUPLE! they are just *mwah* chef’s kiss. especially in the teen timeline! they just balance each other so perfectly, like they were LITCHRALLY made for each other🥹. van is goofy and silly and a dreamer, tai is serious, intense; a realist. they just so clearly love each other so so much and i ADORE THEM. ‘happy wife happy life’ YYYYEEEAHHHHH. i’m gonna be so devastated when they eventually break up in the teen timeline and DONT EVEN GET ME STARTED on if/when van dies in the adult timeline☹️. not even thinking about it actually. just them and their soft tender gay love🤗.

•lottienat—1000000/10•

i genuinely will start tweaking if i think about these two for too long. they just make me so ASKSHSLSLSJSJ😫. i don’t even think i can articulate how much i love them. the rich girl and the burnout. the hunter and the prophet. THEY ARE SO PERFECT FOR EACH OTHER. the bath scene????? DIED DEAD ON THE FLOOR. ‘is that what we are’ GONE REQUIRING CPR. lottie kissing nat’s hands for so long after giving up her leadership, the last thing she had left? SIX FEET FUCKING UNDER😨. nah but fr, i NEEEED them to kiss. they would be so good for each other. the potential is…UNFUCKINGLIMITED (i am choosing to ignore the fact that nat’s dead thank you xoxo). just…the tenderness. the pining. they’re narrative foils. they’re enemies. they’re friends. they’re something more. YELLOWJACKETS…DROP A LOTTIENAT KISS IN S3 AND MY LIFE IS YOURS🙏🏻.

and finally…my fucking roman empire…

•jackieshauna—9999999999999/10•

there is a hole in my heart in the shape of these two. they’re…EVERYTHING. god they just loved each other so much but life and the wilderness and jeff and their own self-destruction got in the way. jackie loved shauna so much it killed her. shauna loved jackie so much she ATE her. they were completely undefinable—best friends, rivals, soulmates. entirely devoted. i just ache when i think about what they could have had. the tragedy of them is life-altering. shauna will miss jackie for longer than she knew her and that fact makes me want TO OFF MYSELF. they are intertwined forever, not knowing where one ends and the other begins. i wholeheartedly believe they were in love with each other but didn’t know how to say it. because of jeff, because it was 1996, because love couldn’t even possibly cover what it was they felt for each other. in my head, they’re together. in my head, they ran away together and lived a long and happy life. and it kills me to know that’s not what happened. they actually make me fucking insane and i’ll never get over them.

now have some memes bc i’m silly like that🤭

[shinx-stardust]

I love the Gravity Falls fandom because, like, you can headcanon any character as trans in any direction with like. Three exceptions.

Uh, headcanons below cut I guess

Dipper? We can make a good case for trans masc and trans femme. I tend towards trans masc because he's a little guy and just like me fr fr, but like, I like her, too, I find her cute in the punt-that-small-child-(affectionate) way.

Stan and Ford? Well, they're identical and I've seen a lot of them both being transmasc which I love and trans femme Stan and Ford actually make me feral. I need to do some things with transfemme Stan and Ford actually, I've seen them floating around and they're so cute and wholesome. Old trans sisters to me.

Side headcanon, Stan and Ford are extremely accepting even if they're cishet. Like Stan to me knew queer people in New York who died in the AIDS crisis. Like he can name people on the AIDS quilt to me and the only reason he wasn't hit by it and didn't die to it is he had to move to Gravity Falls. And Ford has a weird conception of gender that's shockingly progressive because multiverse.

Soos, okay, well, I haven't seen trans Soos around but like. First of all, super neglected character (I say as I do nothing with him). And second of all we are SLEEPING on trans Soos. A couple of the reasons for transfemme Dipper hold up here, mostly being the going-only-by-a-nickname thing. But also like, Soos's abuelita seems like just the most tolerant person ever and would so just go "Oh. I have a grandson/daughter now." and move on with her life. And also can someone draw transfemme Soos because I have a vision and if you saw it you'd agree because I can't get over her but like I can't even describe it it's just. Transfemme Soos in a corset. Transfemme Soos putting on a skirt for the first time. You feel me? Oh, and nonbinary Soos, too, just like. Soos went from very cis to the most gender human being ever to me very fast.

The three exceptions to me are Wendy, Mabel, and Pacifica (and it's up for debate whether Pacifica's even an exception).

Mabel is always transfemme. She can't for the life of me be a guy and I can't explain why. She's either transfemme or cis. Sorry, that's a girl to me and she always will be.

Wendy is either a cis woman or a trans man, and probably honestly falls on either extremely-masculine-man or tomboy-cis-woman for me. I can't really see her as transfemme.

And Pacifica is trans masc to me. I don't even see him as cis, he's just a guy. A man. Alternatively, the reason he's one of the execptions is because I was working on Divine Falls stuff and I went "what if he's genderfluid lol" and then "oh wait that's actually cool" so he's either a trans man or genderfluid to me, but like. He's genderfluid in the "getting my tits cut off and taking hormones does not make my gender one thing, I am unknowable and my gender is whatever pisses you off the most" sorta way. (Unrelated I think genderfluid Pacifica would do great on Tumblr)

[scribblers-shadowlands-arc]

Pinned

Tip me on boosty

Quick introduction to help break the ice. I’m Morrigan 30 yo Futch Trans Woman. On hrt since Feb 2023. Love storytelling both written and visual (Art, Books, Manga, Video Games, etc). I also write and draw myself.

Lifting heavy things for fun and so I won’t fall apart. I will princess carry you if you ask nicely.

@en-bitch is my lovely girlfriend 😌 

Now you know me a little bit, so let’s get to the meat of things. This blog is adult themed. It exists as an outlet for exploration of my gender identity and sexuality and some other similar things.

There will be occasional memes and sfwish reblogs and posts.

Biting, pawing, scratching and other ways to show attention or affection when reblog\comment on my photos are appreciated 

| Minor pls Do Not Interact. I understand you are interested in this stuff, but I could get in trouble because of you, and I rather not.  |

| Addition on age interaction. Thought about it for some time. Irl I not gonna flirt with anybody younger 21-22. It's just arbitrary line I draw for comfort of my mind and safety of both sides.

Online spaces however create a degree of separation and sort of safety (and let be honest it's unlikely we meet irl) It's make it sort of safe-ish playground for exploring and learning about oneself. I sure figured some stuff about myself that way. So it's okay to hit me up if you about 20-ish plus minus. But if I start to feel uncomfortable or feel that I crossing some lines, I gonna pull away (I will communicate that)

If you 18 we can talk on the subject of sex, gender expression, etc. But I not gonna sext or flirt with you, sorry. Get this one year of "oh shit I'm an adult now" before doing something in online spaces with soon to be 30 yo |

I’m a bisexual t4t both, sapphic, enby. I lean significantly to femme presenting people. But I love me some hot mascs too.

Switch and verse. 

Polyam? I figuring this one out since I started transition. But I think I am. For now at least in a way that I will be okay not to be a single partner for my loved one. But not sure that I'll be able manage more then one romantic connection.

For subs who wanna message me. I’m not that experienced domme in a sense of kink, so I may fumble a bit, but hey we are here to have some fun, so I hope it won't be a big deal for you. 

For dommes, I have like 0 experience of being sub. But um Hiii? 

Titles that work for me so far: ma’am, miss, baby. List may grow. No masculine titles pls

Oh, by the way. I have a demi-human sona, soooo I guess I qualify as furry, not kitten or a puppy (although I may respond for that) but more of a dragon lineage. I still figure out this part of me, so this section is under construction. 

DM’s and asks are open. If we are not mutuals it’s better to ask first before writing something spicy in my DM’s. Mutuals don’t be shy to write to me, I am not scary.

List of kinks - that will definitely grow [ + as domme, - as sub, & for both ]:

Petplay&, intox&?,  bondage&, praise&, cnc&, scent&, pain&, breeding - (not sure for +), nursing&, breath play&

If something is unlisted I either am not sure about it yet and was too lazy to add or it’s no go and I was too lazy to add it. So probably ask before go full throttle on unlisted stuff with me.

Tags: scribblers answers, scribblers rumbles, scribblers pics, scribblers writing, artsy scribbler, scribblers play (video games tag)

Notif timeline

[meanbossart]

Spicy Asks: The Sequel is here. I'm so, so sorry.

Oh he's a very passive guy, he likes being manhandled around and not having to do much of the work (a bit of a pillow princess one might say). As far as fetishes go, he does have fantasies about group sex and of being roughed up, but I think if put in a situation where he could practice it in a controlled environment he'd be like "EHHHH nevermind actually" and go home very quickly LOL

DU drow would have 100% banged Lae'zel if he hadn't killed her. He couldn't stand her personality but they would have gotten on like two peas in a pod in the sack.

He does find Shadowheart very pretty, but they struck up a friendship so quickly that I don't think he could see her in that way 🤷 but that's still a smash, technically speaking.

Jaheira. Ohhhh Jaheira. As far as general dynamics go she would have been the best choice after Astarion, probably - though there is no way in hell or high heavens that she would have ever let him touch her LOL regardless, DU drow finds her looks and personality to be very attractive.

He's pretty much utterly indifferent to anyone else. Wyll is too idealistic, Gale is Gale, Karlach isn't his type, Halsin gets on his nerves - oh, he WOULD have banged Mizora if he hadn't been heads over heels for Astarion by that point.

The man just likes his femmes I guess LOL

HMMMMMMM yes, but since it's not really a porn fic expect any scenes like that to be in line with what we've had so far, where there's more of a focus on developing character dynamics rather than gratuitousness (I hope I've gotten that across, at least LOL).

LOL, It's ok, it's a ridiculous not-name and I'm so sorry for all the people I have made confused and will continue to confuse because of it.

As for your question, definitely not! I personally like big-bottom/smaller-top scenarios so that's why I focus on it, and I do think character-wise those are the roles they fall into most naturally - but they switch around every so often when the mood strikes and it isn't really a big deal.

Oh are you kidding me? The guy LOVES being cared after in an intimate setting. Being doted on, groomed, checked up on, having his hair played with and clothes fixed up - he doesn't express it outwardly much, but these are all things that make his murderous little heart skip a beat. He was the same way pre-tadpole but it was mostly servants and Sceleritas doing it, so he didn't get much out of the exchange; and Orin didn't entertain this at all, or, if she ever did, it was very, very, very rarely and really just a crumb of intimate affection that he most likely misread anyways.

I'm not sure what to say to this one LOL the penis is full of blood already man I don't think a vampire needs to make it any more tempting to themselves to chomp down.

I wrote a thing about that not too long ago :D ! The answer is complicated but, mostly yes.

Alright you joke, but, if you don't think DU drow hasn't spent a little too long lingering over Astarion's feet and ankles then I got amazing news for you.

I touched on what they generally like on the previous edition of Wine Fuelled Spicy Asks, but as for what they like to do as a couple, it's probably a lot of body worship and some playful denial on both ends. Du drow thinks Astarion is the most elegant and limber thing he's ever seen (and he loves how he smells), and Astarion thinks DU drow's body is an expertly put together murder machine. They have a great time being mutually enamored with each other's (and their own) appearances.

I think they also venture into some blood-play and vapid threats of violence in the future, as a treat, but takes a while for them to trust themselves and each other enough to indulge in that kind of thing.

Needs a little direction, plus you gotta learn to enjoy a bit of teeth and a very slobbery time - also I think he distracts easily, It's nice to have a man who's willing to venture the whole perimeter with his mouth but sometimes you do just want him to stay on the prick. But generally speaking - yes, DU drow gives good head. Fun head, even!

What do you people want from me? Do you want schematics? Diagrams? Do you want me to compare their holes to famous people holes? Do you want me to take out my measuring tape and give you numbers, tell you which kind of produce each of them can fit in there???

One is pink, the other one is brown. One of them just looks normal and the other looks and feels a little like it been around the block a few times. ARE YOU HAPPY NOW.

[merajsblog]

Can you do Blue Lock Rin x female reader x Sae? The reader is a very sweet and kind girl. The Itoshi brothers are fighting for her love.

authors note: hi!! :) my first ask! i will absolutely try my best to do this for sure. obviously the reader is femme, and is in a love triangle. no set relationships yet! just some itoshi brothers pining for a girl :)

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ *ੈ✩‧₊˚

you had known the itoshi family for some time now. you couldn’t say you were particularly close to them, but you were closer with their kids, rin itoshi and sae itoshi.

rin had a particular aura around him, one that differed from his older brother, sae, in a lot of ways. they shared some similar traits like their cold, calculating stares, but rin was a little more passionate than sae was. not to say sae wasn’t a passionate person, it just wasn’t something your noticed off the bat like with rin. they both devoted themselves to soccer.

rin was devoted to the challenge. he didn’t like half baked stuff. he wanted something that challenged his norm, and looked beyond the threshold. he was cold and calculating, much like his older brother. he liked horror, and yoga. his soccer seemed almost rooted in desperation.

sae on the other hand, was a little older. he had lived in spain, and he kept wanting to go back. he was calculating and manipulative at times. he was straightforward and honest. his soccer was rooted in searching.

it was a cold day, winter at its finest. you had gone to see your family friends, and especially the itoshi brothers. your relationship with them was…interesting. you were polar opposites, while being polite and kind instead of calculating and cold. there was something about this opposition that attracted both of them to you. maybe it was your sweetness that drugged both of them to lust for you, even though they dreaded feeling that way towards someone out of their control. they had control of everything, at least on the field, but this was way out of their league.

“oh please y/n, come inside its freezing out there!!” says mrs. itoshi. you stepped inside, finally seeking refuge from the storm outside. it was time for your yearly visit to see the family.

you grinned kindly at the older woman for letting you in, doing your respectful bow.

“oh hello y/n” a familiar voice says to you from the stair case. you look upwards, batting your eyelashes at rin itoshi. his hair was swooped forward a bit, and dark teal. his eyes were mesmerizing, a vibrant teal color. you could see from where you were standing his long lashes fluttering as he walked down the stairs with his strong demeanor. he was donned in a button up and slacks, your guess was it was his mom who coerced him to dress nicely. his button up wasn’t fully buttoned, leaving one open button at the top. you smiled, “hello rin! how have you been?” you asked, taking off your shoes slowly.

“i’ve been good.” he says curtly. he’s avoiding eye contact. you let out a soft huff, “is that all? tell me about this soccer thing you’ve been at! i’ve heard all about it from school.” you say, looking up at him from the entry way.

“oh, yea it’s been pretty cool we actually just-“

he gets cut off, pulling your arm towards him, almost into his chest, as the door behind you unlocks and opens again. sae is standing in the door way, the tip of his nose is red. he must’ve been standing outside for a while…

“oh, y/n, i didn’t know you were gonna be here yet. sorry for the intrusion, i was just throwing the trash out.” sae says, donning a crooked smile looking at you. he’s also wearing a button up, except the top few buttons aren’t done, revealing much more than you thought you’d see.

you stifle out a laugh. “it’s nice to see you too sae.” you say, smiling as you politely angle your head down in a casual bow. he takes this opportunity to ruffle the top of your head as he passes by, ignoring rin. you turn around, heat spreading in your cheeks.

“i can take your coat if you want..” rin mumbles out. you grab your coat and give it to him, before walking into the kitchen of the house. there’s food everywhere, in nice plates, and sae is pouring himself a glass of something to drink. his red coral hair is smooth in the ambient light, his back to you. he has the same beautiful teal eyes as his younger brother.

“i was just telling her about the recent game we had.” rin says, leaning against the door way, right next to you. you can smell his expensive cologne.

sae snickers. “the game i lost in?”

“yes that game.” rin says sharply.

you’re looking at the two of them, as they talk. you couldn’t tell if this was banter or something worse.

“just know that i wasn’t really trying at the beginning, i was just testing out shidou. i didn’t even break a sweat the entire time.” sae says, focusing on his drink, smiling at himself.

the air feels tense. rin opens his mouth to retort, when you hear the door open once more. you all turn to look, seeing more family friends pour in the hallway. you’re tapping on rins arm now,

“rin where is the restroom again?” you ask making direct eye contact. it’s like lightning striking through you when you make contact like this. it’s sharp and hard to ignore. he’s opening his mouth, and moving his arm almost as if to take your hand to lead you over, when sae speaks right next to you.

“i can show you. i want to grab something from my room anyways. come with me.” he says, handing his drink to rin before softly grabbing your forearm.

“she asked me you know.” rin says, eyes boring into saes skull. he is clenching the drink. you put your hand on his arm, “it’s fine, we’ll be back soon okay? then i can catch you up on school.” you say, smiling softly. you and rin shared the same grade, while sae was a little above you guys.

sae is already ushering you towards the area where the bathroom is and up the stairs.

“i got you a little gift actually..you can use my bathroom too.” sae says, still walking ahead of you. you can’t see his expression at all. he’s always been a little harder to read than rin. rin always shared the same peachy cheek, puppy eyed look with you, but with sae you had no idea what was going on in his head.

it’s not long before you’re in his room. it’s rather empty, but it makes sense since he doesn’t really live here anymore. he hands you a box, a small bracelet with a gem on it.

“it’s your birthstone actually…” he says scratching the back of his head. he also isn’t making eye contact with you. the bracelet is adorable and when he puts it on your wrist, it seems almost like it fits perfectly.

“thank you sae, this was really sweet of you, but i didn’t get you anything besides the family gifts…” you say starting to pout. maybe your family sized chocolates you brought wasn’t good enough this time..

he lets out a small smile, “no you’re fine i just felt like giving you this something special. oh! the bathroom is right there by the way, i’ll be out in the hallway if you need anything.” he says, starting to walk away. you head in, fixing your appearance in the mirror. you could swear you hear talking outside saes room in the hallway.

you’re about to step out after opening the door, when you hear the booming echo of all the guests in the living room. it’s almost overwhelming for a second. here you are, in a house that isn’t entirely familiar, struggling between two angsty boys. you’re frozen in the middle of the hallway.

“are you okay?” you hear someone ask behind you. whipping around, you see rin looming there behind you.

“oh, yea no i’m fine it was just..a little loud for a minute there…i swear there wasn’t THAT many people before…” you said nervously chuckling.

“yea they kinda all just appeared..i went to my room for a minute but then i saw you just standing here like an npc…” he says, seriously.

you can’t help but laugh a little at that.

“do you want to head down with me? or do you want to take a minute up here?” he says, cocking his head a little. “everyone will love you down there, trust me. how could anyone not like someone like you.” he mutters.

“we can head down, thanks for coming with me.” you said, now it was your turn to look away. the blush was looming over your face. he was standing awfully close. his cologne was intoxicating. you turn around slowly, heading towards the stairs. there is swarms of people crawling around downstairs. you stop at the crest of the top of the stairs case. a warm hand is placed on your lower back. his touch is like a spark as your goosebumps go up.

“i can go first, just follow close behind me, okay?” rin whispers in your ear, moving seamlessly around you. he’s headed down the stairs case, stepping a few steps, before turning around, beckoning you to come. you follow not long after. you two step down the staircase, while sae is sitting at the bottom. he seems preoccupied with a conversation, probably what you were hearing while in the bathroom.

he’s staring now, his eyes boring into yours.

as you two reach the bottom of the stairs, sae immediately starts speaking to you.

“sorry about that, i got pulled away, i was gonna head back up there to see if you were doing okay.” he said, ignoring his old conversation.

rin scoffs before starting to head past sae.

“do you like the bracelet i bought for you?” sae questions, stopping rin in his tracks. rin usually notices anything new about you. how could he not? he noticed your new shoes, and how your mascara was sitting on your pretty eyelashes. your eyes seemed lighter due to the season change. how often you furrowed your brows when anxious.

“i love it, it is really beautiful sae. and thank you rin for coming down with me.” you say, trying to please both of them.

“how sweet of you to say that.” sae cooes, particularly in jab to rin. they’re both standing at the bottom of the stair case, looking up at you. what in the world was going on with them tonight. it felt almost like…a competition.

it couldn’t be that they were both pining for your attention, could it be?