#but you know what? if you're brave enough to go about your life calling yourself a giraffe

[icannotgetoverbirds]

image id: tags that read #fuck off terfs but also I support trans men self-identifying as lesbians #supporting queer people means supporting people who don't fit neatly in gender and sexuality boxes. period. end image id.

thank you @monarchetype for these tags!

L with the T 💖

edit: OP is a trans inclusive intersectional feminist. this post is not for “the overlap between trans men and lesbians” (quote from a terf who reblogged this). this post is for trans lesbians, and solidarity between lesbians and trans people. TERFs and other radfems dont reblog or interact.

[softbabybelle]

𝜗𝜚 c!w. sibling issues, reader has a mean!older sister, self-doubt, crying, soft!rafe, one thousand percent self indulgent.

mia - (sister's name)

"what's wrong with you, huh?" rafe cameron's voice came out smooth as butter. you felt him nudge your arm with his elbow.

you only shrugged in response, not feeling all that well enough to use your voice.

you were sitting on the couch of tannyhill, snuggled close to rafe. he picked you up every friday night from your house, then sat you snug on the couch, filled you up with all the wrong kinds of foods and put on whatever movie your heart would desire.

tonight, it was the princess diaries. you'd been excited all week to show rafe the movie you'd adored so dearly. you told him before that you were educating him on all the things he missed out on.

as excited as you'd been all week, rafe noticed that tonight you couldn't seem to so much as train your eyes on the tv.

"you're in a mood." it wasn't a question, more of a statement as he studied your face. you were close to him by all means, hands wrapping around his arm and head leaning against his bicep.

but you were quiet, you had been since he picked you up over an hour ago. you were staring at this one spot on the ground, rafe swore that by the time you looked away, you'd burn a hole in the carpet. "'m not." you answered sheepishly, turning your nose up at him.

he could tell you were trying to put on this brave face, the one you often tried to put on around him, and failed effortlessly.

he frowned at you.

at the beginning of the relationship, you'd been so closed off, not wanting to bother him with all the the things 'wrong' with you. but he thought you'd grown out of that by now.

"c'mere." he didn't give you much adjustment, already pulling you to seat yourself on his lap, where he liked you. this way, you had no way of sneaking away from his confrontation. "what's wrong, huh? what happened to m'girl?"

rafe was so soft, adoring as he traced his fingers up and down your arms, soothing you so gently.

it was the kind of calmness you'd been searching for all day.

he knew how your home life could be, especially with your older sister. you used to be close with her, she used to be your favourite person in the world. and then she got a boyfriend, and well, you don't really seem to know what to think anymore.

he felt your hands paw at his shoulders, almost pushing him away. "rafe, i-i don't―" your eyes began to gloss over, rimming red around the edges.

"hey, hey." he didn't allow you to push him, grabbing your elbows to hold you in place. "what's going on, huh? why you pushing me away?" you huffed out a breath and avoided his eyes, but nonetheless, stopped trying to fight back.

rafe felt his frown deepen.

it broke his heart a little to watch you revert into your old bad habits. but he swore sometimes, you were taking two steps forward with him and then suddenly your sister's shooting you back another five steps. "hey, c'mon, we talked about this." his fingers tapped at your chin. "y'gotta let me in."

you let out this shaky breath that he swore would have been accompanied with a whimper if you didn't have such self-restraint. "'s mia."

and rafe didn't need to hear anything else to know what was wrong.

to be blunt, rafe didn't know what to make of your sister. he knew you cared for her, he knew she would never not be your sister in any twisted universal dimension. but she wasn't exactly nice to you. to be honest, rafe wasn't so sure why you even liked her to begin with. she called you names, she teased you, she yelled at you, made you feel like a big pile of nothing.

then she'd walk into your life again as if nothing had happened.

there was always something going on with her, if it wasn't an argument with her boyfriend then it was something with work and if not that, something silly like not being able to get lunch at the country club.

and somehow, all of her problems seemed to backtrack and land on you.

your parents would often take their anger out on you too, too stressed with everything going on with mia to comprehend what they were doing to you. and you, well, you were too nice to bite back. still offering your sister money when she complained about having none after not showing up to work.

if rafe had known what you'd been spending all your allowance on, he wouldn't have let you take it in cash, he would have given you his credit card and told you very sternly to spend as much as you wanted, as long as it was on yourself.

"sweetheart."

all he had to do was say that name in that soft, gentle tone he used and you were already unravelling.

you were staring at your hands, as if looking for an answer while trying to keep your tears at bay. "she's jus' so mean."

"i know, honey." his hands were grasping at yours, trying to redirect your attention to his face.

and you did look at him, finally you looked up but you had this broken look on your face as you swallowed the lump in your throat. "i ha-have to ask you something." you were speaking all strained, trying not to cry.

rafe, suddenly nervous, soothed out the nerves in your hands and up your arms, across your shoulders to behind your neck. "you can ask me anything, baby. what's goin' on?"

"do you think..?" rafe was patient with you, listening to you choke and struggle on your words but he never once rushed you. "do you think 'm selfish?"

rafe's face contorted, as if he were actually offended that you'd even ask such a question. "what?"

you hiccuped. "'cause i t-try really hard to be nice to everyone, b-but mia said―" you cut yourself off, trying to control your breathing. you were all worked up, the day being too much, everything too overwhelming. "s-she always says that 'm selfish 'n that 'm mean. i don't... i don't wanna be a bad p-person, rafe."

for a moment, rafe was rendered speechless.

it wasn't often that rafe wasn't quite sure what to say, but this was indefinitely one of those unfortunate times.

but he could see that teary look in your eyes, staring into his own. you were searching his face, trying to gauge whether or not he believed you were good. you needed him to tell you. you needed him to believe you were good.

so he took a breath and shook his head.

"you are... by far, the most selfless person i've ever met." his fingers trailed across your cheek, down your chin, anywhere they could touch and skim your skin. "c'mon, baby, mean? you get a little hangry come seven o clock with no dinner in you but even then you wouldn't so much as raise your voice."

you huffed out a giggle, pushing his face with your sleeve-covered hands.

"'m serious." he maneuvered you so you were laying with your back against the couch and he was hovering over you. "you're m'sweet girl. the sweetest girl in the world, yeah?"

"but―"

a kiss planted against your lips shut you up. "no buts." he announced, moving a kiss to your cheek. "you are." then a kiss to the other. "the sweetest." against your forehead. "girl." a pepper to your nose. "in the entire world." and finally a kiss right back on your lips.

you stared up at him like he was worth a million diamonds and he swore he couldn't find anyone in the world that was better for him. it was you, through every universe, every dimension and every lifetime.

"now you say it." at his words, you tilted your head slightly confused. "say you're the sweetest girl in the world so i know you believe it."

another small giggle passed your lips. "rafe, n-no." feeling heat pile on your cheeks with embarrassment.

"say it." you felt his fingers pinch your sides sending a tickle up your body.

instantly, you tried to shove him away. "rafe!"

but the boy simply couldn't resist. he'd been challenged and he wasn't going to give up. "say it!" and he didn't stop pinching you, even when you were a screaming mess of giggles, begging him to stop but the laughter bubbling in your chest suggested he keep going. "all you gotta do is say it, baby."

"'m so sweet." giggling through your faux self-assurance.

however, rafe didn't stop his abuse to your sides. "'s not the full sentence!"

"fine! fine!" you felt him pause and raise an eyebrow at you, waiting. your giggles faded into a lopsided grin. "'m the sweetest girl in the world."

"yeah you are. there's m'good girl." he sat back up into a seating position, bringing your body with him so you could sit against his lap. "feelin' better, princess?"

you nodded against his chest, arms loosely falling around his body. "mm, thank you rafey." he glanced down, watching you yawn against him, perhaps today had been just a little bit too much on you.

he glanced back to the tv which was long forgotten. "what do you say, we go to bed together now 'n finish this tomorrow?"

but he was already picking up the remote to switch it off and your eyes were already fluttering closed with a whine. "no, rafey. wanted you to watch it tonight."

"oh, i know." while picking you up to bring you to your shared bedroom, switching off the lights in the process. "'m just the worst."

"no." you mumbled tiredly. "y'the sweetest boy in the world."

and rafe couldn't help but grin.

yeah, you were definitely the perfect fit for him.

[parfaitblogs]

present enough for me ❀ s. reid x reader

in which you're decorating your apartment with your boyfriend, you're all too clumsy, and really, who makes glass baubles these days? 

pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader genre: fluff tags: established relationship. decorating a christmas tree. mentions of blood. joking about murder and prison (it makes sense i promise). puts up with your shit!spencer reid.  word count: >1k a/n: short n sweet little thingy to keep us going this holiday season ♡

❄︎ advent calendar masterlist

Everything had happened so fast. 

One minute, you were hanging a bauble on the tree, Spencer's ever so familiar voice reverberating around the room as he recites information you had to applaud him for knowing. 

Facts like, "Did you know Germans celebrate Christmas on Christmas Eve? Because technically, Jesus was born on the night of the 24th. It's like this for a lot of European countries, actually." And, "Orthodox Christmas is on January 7, because Orthodox centric countries like Serbia, Belarus and Russia follow the Julian calendar, instead of the Gregorian one we do."

And, unfortunately, Spencer Reid's info-dumping is not annoying, but attractive to you. You oftentimes find yourself keenly listening in as he rattles off facts about things you'll probably never understand to the extent he does. Though, he does love over explaining just so you can comprehend some part of it. 

It had, evidently, led to you becoming a bit too distracted by your boyfriend halfway across the living room, adorning the television with tinsel, and resulted in your hand slipping as it slid a bauble onto the faux snow tree branch. It had fallen, and shattered, shards of it exploding across the wooden floor. 

You curse aloud, taking an instinctual step back, eyebrows furrowing. 

"Are you okay, angel?" Spencer calls, and you cringe at the sight of the pieces of bauble on the floor, though nod your head regardless.

"Yeah. You should see the other guy," you mumble, crouching down to the floor to pick up shards of the bauble. 

"No, don't touch—" he's cut off by your hiss as the sharp edge of the bauble slices your skin, your other hand that was already nursing some pieces, closing into a fist around them.

"Fuck," you seethe again, all the shards dropping to the floor at your — arguably stupid — mistake.

"The first health and safety rule when you drop glass is don't pick it up with your hands," Spencer scolds, his slippers padding against the floor as he heads over to you. His hand wraps around your forearm and he picks you up, shaking his head. 

"Okay, well, what idiot makes glass baubles?" you retort. 

"What clumsy idiot buys them?" he shoots back, and you huff because, well, he's got you there. 

"You're supposed to be supportive and nurturing," you mumble, though you're sure if Spencer overbearingly attempted to console your injured hand immediately, you'd question if he's sick.

"I can multitask," he answers, wrapping his arms around your waist. "Up."

You jump off the ground as he picks you up, carrying your body over to the kitchen stool, where he sets you down, away from the crime scene that is a shattered, bloodied bauble.

"It looks like that bauble tried to murder me," you say, staring at the scene. 

"I'll put some caution tape around the tree until it goes to trial."

"I vote two consecutive life sentences."

"Two? What's the second one for?"

"Conning me," you grumble.

He laughs as he disappears into the guest bathroom, just to reappear with the bright red First Aid kit, placing it on the kitchen counter next to you.

"Hand, please," he says, standing in front of you, and you hold out your palm. "Oh yeah, this is pretty bad, huh?"

"I can handle it," you huff, puffing your chest up. "A soldier never shows fear."

"My brave girl," he says, using baby wipes to clean up the blood, gently. "Did it get you anywhere else?"

You shake your head, wincing at the pressure — however slight — over the cuts on your skin. "Just my hands."

He nods his head, and once the blood is cleaned, he's soothing them with some antiseptic cream, trying to keep his touch as featherlike as possible. 

"I liked that bauble too," you mumble as he begins wrapping a bandage around your hand. 

"It's the same as the thirteen other one's of its design in the pack."

"No. It was special," you reply, shooting a glare at Spencer, who surrenders almost immediately. 

"Okay," he slowly nods his head, only really indulging in your antics to humour you. And maybe himself. 

Once your hand was wrapped up, and Spencer had given you a kiss for your undeniable bravery, you were bounding back over to the tree to finish adorning it with trinkets and other decor. 

"Please be careful," he warns, though abandons his post on the other side of the living room to help you with the three. 

Just in case. 

"I'm super careful."

He shoots you a look, that you match with a shit-eating grin, and then you're delving back into decorating the tree. 

By the time you're done, you are not any more injured, and the tree is lit up with an assortment of colours and glitter, and you're smiling, leaning against the television cabinet to admire it. 

The television cabinet dressed with a collection of candles, candle holders, tinsel, and a festive table runner you forgot you even owned. 

A table runner your hand was resting on.

And Spencer was too late in warning you, and your hand swings forwards, before you trip and land flat on your ass.

He doesn't help you up this time.

your reblogs and replies are always appreciated ♡

[sophiethewitch1]

What We Want - Chpt. 8 - Jason Fucking Todd

In Which A Romantic Breaks The Universe

(Yandere!batboys x f!reader) 18+ MDNI!

SUMMARY

Another lonely birthday, another empty year. You miss your family. You're late for your bills and rent, and even then, you got robbed last Tuesday.

Still, you buy yourself a cupcake, because you need it. I mean, hey. What's dessert for if not to get over cheating boyfriends and dead relatives?

As you blow out the candle, watching the clock switch from 11:59 pm to midnight of the next day, you make a wish.

And because the world doesn't like to make much sense, it comes true. Your life is suddenly flipped on a dime, and you're stuck trying to catch up with it. Fantasy becomes reality. You're a Wayne now, apparently. Or you used to be. You're loved, you're rich, you're talented and powerful.

Well, sort of. Careful what you wish for, right?

(TRIGGER WARNINGS AND MASTERLIST HERE)

PREV - NEXT

Well, look on the bright side of things. You’re not crying right now. That’s nice. You’re not an intern anymore. That’s nice. You struggle to think of anything else. Oh yeah, you’re rich! That’s also nice. You’re not dead. Nice.

This is kind of pathetic. You just feel bummed after having to break up with George a second time. And getting smacked right in the face by him. Which you know, anybody would be, you think. You don’t think a single soul has ever known the George Lancaster Break-Up Special more than once. And you didn’t think anyone would be stupid enough to fall for that asshole more than once.

You couldn’t fake a brave face anymore, you just didn’t have the energy for it.

…And let’s not forget almost dying via Joker goon. Not even the man himself, just a random lackey. You think of how he literally disappeared in front of your eyes, and decide you are going to stop thinking. It’s doing you no good anyway.

Instead, you just start walking. Letting your feet and your intimate knowledge of Gotham’s streets, even in this area you don’t often frequent, guide you. You find yourself at the train station. With little consideration, you buy a ticket to the southern part of the city. The bad side of town, the docks, where your apartment used to be.

You feel like a little rat scurrying back into the sewers as you hop on the subway, tucking yourself in between people who don’t recognise you, probably because of your general dishevelment.

Shoulders knocking against strangers, you feel the most at home since this whole disaster started. You stare across the train car, watching a baby babble to its mother. It catches your eye, gives you a big toothless smile, and some snot dribbles into it’s mouth. The mother notices and cleans the baby up with a tissue. When she catches you staring, you give a very awkward but friendly smile, and she smiles back.

A tiny weight lifts off your shoulders. Surrounded by the chaos of Gotham, as the subway exits the tunnels and heads up onto the sky rails, you find yourself warm by the rays of sun through the clouds. The view is beautiful, as it always is. Usually, you’d be looking at your phone, too busy to enjoy the sights. But it really is beautiful.

It’s only when you hear the announcer calling out that you realise you did this for a reason, and dart out of your seat and through the narrowly closing doors. The metal closes behind you with a small hiss. The Docks station, for most people, would be one of the better Gotham train stations. Newly built, and with all the tourist money it was clean. Well, clean as it could get. You’d read some article about the bacteria the rats were carrying being not found anywhere else on earth, and you’d decided to stop reading articles.

Anyway, for you, even the shining marble of the station was a sad sight. Because you only ever came here on your very worst days.

This seemed like one of them.

The familiar streets flit past you, barely something you’re even cognisant of. This part of the city was mostly new, the concrete fresh under your feet instead of littered with potholes. Still, it wasn’t at the centre of the blast radius, so it hadn’t been totally demolished.

No, that was just up ahead. And like everything else in this weird new world, you immediately noticed something different. Where your family had died was… still there, for some reason.

With confusion, exhaustion, and no small bit of despair, you stop in the middle of the pathway outside the remnants of what used to be an old diner and was now just a pile of rocks. Some very charred rocks. Looking at the wreckage, you raise your brows. Its crumbling form is still under construction after all these years. The yellow caution tape is only a deterrence to you because you don’t want to end up on the gossip reels for a second time today. Looking around, you find yourself further confused. Lots of other parts of the pier had been redeveloped, but this piece of the puzzle still lay bare.

It didn’t, in your home, your world. It had been replaced with high-rise apartments, and since they were so close to the water, so pretty and new, you had no hope of affording them. It probably wouldn’t be very good for your mental health even if you could. Still, you’d taken many walks past the street. Enjoyed the little bit of dirty white concrete that had survived. You and your siblings had signed your names into it, and you’d stroked the sidewalk like the weirdo you were many times.

Like you did today. And today, for some reason, the rest of it was here. Untouched. A remnant of the disaster. As you run your thumb along the sharp edge of Julie’s J, you find yourself once again lost in your memories. They were like honey traps to you these days.

The mum-and-pops diner had been run by your uncle. It’d been in the family for three generations, and he was incorrigibly proud of it. You’d all had your birthday parties there, because it was free and you were poor. It wasn’t like your uncle would let you pay for the food anyway, it was just one of the few times Mum could stand the generosity. She didn’t like it when you had disappointing birthdays, and no matter how much you tried to fake your happiness, she could always see to your core. Eventually, you and your siblings all gave up on trying.

You were late. You were often late, but this time it was… it was the difference between life and death. If you’d been a few blocks further, a little bit earlier, you’d probably be dead too. Or at least have some serious hearing loss instead of just suffering mild tinnitus.

You had felt more than seen the destruction. The earth had rumbled, and a deafening roar had swept through the streets. You remember falling to your knees, the worry about being late morphing to worry for your best clothes to a true terror when you realised where the blast had come from.

When you realised your family was in the epicentre.

You sometimes wish you were on time that day. That you’d gotten to see them all, even if you went with them. It didn’t sound so bad, really. At least you wouldn’t be alone. Hmm, you should probably stop thinking like that. Or maybe go to a therapist about it.

Not that you could afford it. Oh, right. Rich now. That was really taking some getting used to.

You wonder if people who won the lottery felt the same way. Probably not, because the rest of the world reflected the changes the person felt. They’d have to go pick up the check, go to the bank, and if they let their family and friends know, deal with the consequences of that.

You’d just woken up rich. No time to adjust, your new life was here and it was demanding your attention very loudly. And soup-ly, unfortunately. After a few minutes of staring blankly at the rubble, you look towards your left, where you know the Memorial awaits you. It’s in the centre of the new shopping district, built on top of the bombed parts of Gotham. It sits right next to the water, the cold breeze a comfort that you’d turned to on more than one occasion.

You’d feel bad if you didn’t change your clothes. You told Grayson you would, and you already felt bad enough about... everything to do with him. You suppose he was your brother. Your ex-brother. Ex-step-brother. The ex-step-brother of a woman who you weren’t.

Really, he was just a stranger. It seemed he didn’t feel that way, though.

You start the walk towards the shopping district, and into the first clothes store you see. The prices on the tags would usually make you flinch, but well, it doesn’t matter anymore. Nothing seems to matter. Your survival is now guaranteed, might as well wear some clothes that feel nice on your skin.

You walk out of that store looking like you just robbed it. Even the clerk had given you a weird look but accepted the black card tucked in your phone without much complaint. It’s an improvement if a small one.

Once you’re done, like a moth to a flame, you drift towards the Memorial centre. You’re following all the steps you used to in the past, but somehow, it all feels a bit alien. The world looks a little different, a little uncomfortable. Your shoes are worn in, and yet they still feel too tight.

Uncanny valley. You feel unwelcomed here, unwanted. Like the very earth can tell that there’s something wrong in this scene, some intruder. You ignore the feeling as best you can.

The Memorial is just as unfamiliar as the diner was, maybe even more. You know that your mother was a Wayne before she died. You know that. But still seeing your family’s framed photos, right alongside Jason's is so shocking you nearly jump. It takes a moment of wide-eyed staring before you can manage to get past that. When you do, for some reason you still go back to your old habits. You walk by them, the bouquets and to where their names used to be in thin letters.

You count with your fingers, finding the fifty-second line.

A man’s name replaces the spot where your mother’s is. The little grooves the oil in your fingers had left behind were gone, and instead was sharp stone like when the monument was first erected. It cuts at your fingers. It no longer welcomes your touch.

James Whitaker. That’s the name of the man who took their spot.

You can already feel a rising obsession with the random dead man. If you were going to psycho-analyse yourself, you’d recognise that you didn’t feel that the images of the Waynes you’d created were no longer real, no longer safe to your escapist mindset. You’d realise, that this was all pretty unhealthy, and you really, really needed therapy.

Instead, you give the guy your condolences and start reading the other plinths. They seem largely the same. It’s not like you hadn’t read all of these towers of stone at one point or another, your eyes glazing over the many, many names. So much devastation, all in one moment.

And still, this was not even a tenth of all the lives the Joker had taken. You kinda wanna go take a kick at one of the Bat signals littered around the city. Maybe that’d make you less… broiling with incompetent rage.

Again, maybe you should just go to therapy. You should call Jeanine about that or something.

Eventually, you circle back to your family and Jason’s shrines. You know, back then you’d been jealous that Jason Todd had been so well mourned. You’d wished your family had gotten the same treatment.

Now, you… felt jealous again. Possessive, over their memory, their image. You didn’t really like that random strangers that never knew them… knew them. That Sam always got As in English and Art class but would sometimes skip math and would hide in the bathrooms to do so. That Chasey had struggled with going to school because of her anxiety but kept going because she had a friend going through the exact same thing. That Julie was the ace of her school’s soccer team, and that she’d almost gotten them to nationals even in the presence of all the super-rich schools in Gotham. That your Mum was a great cook but genuinely hated doing it, but for some reason, baking was her favourite thing even as she had never made a proper macaron.

They didn’t know them. They knew their faces and a facsimile of them, but they didn’t know them. It reminded you of the people at the orphanage. Nice, but not kind. They’d had their own lives, they didn’t want some bratty, demented teenager who was going down and planning on taking everyone with her.

You really couldn’t be happy, could you? Maybe you didn’t know what you wanted. What you want now. What you’d wanted for a while, actually.

Ugh. You close your eyes and let out a deep, soul-shaking sigh. It takes a moment for you to shore up the willpower to open them again. Come on, flower shop, finish your weird little ritual then you can go home and hide for the next millenia.

The walk there is the same as always, if a little more morose. It’s in a good spot, near the church just a block away and the memorial on its other side, as well as less sombre atmospheres down near the pier. Well, as little sombre as Gotham can manage.

You feel like you blink and you’re there. Too quickly, you find a rainbow of blooms in front of you, the scent of the blossoms washing over you. When you walk into the flower shop, the bell at the door rings the same as it always does. On autopilot, you walk over to the small, cheaper buds. Your hand clenches around the crinkly wrapping paper, a bundle of posies in your hand. You go to the counter with your prize in hand.

Larissa, the counter worker, smiles at you. Your breath hitches. It’s a working smile, not one of the real, toothy ones she used to give you.

“Oh wow, I thought all the posies had sold out. Lucky you!”

You think of something to say, but the moment passes and you don’t. She rings you up, tells you the price, and when you pay, asks sweetly if you want a receipt.

She doesn’t say your name. Doesn’t acknowledge how you come here every week and buy this same handful of flowers. She doesn’t ask about your job or the weather. She doesn’t cheerfully tell you about how her apprenticeship is going, or about the next sweet thing her partner has done. No, she just stares at you, growing more uncomfortable the longer it takes for you to answer.

She doesn’t even seem to recognise this other version of you. It feels like another string that tied you down to the earth has been snipped. You have an image in your head of a child losing a balloon, desperately grasping at the air. You’re going to float up into the atmosphere, and then you’re going to pop.

You can see the foil glinting in the sun’s light, so, so clearly.

You squeeze your eyes shut, “Yes, a receipt, please.”

Taking it blindly, you barely flutter your eyes open as you walk out of the shop. She didn’t know you, didn’t remember you. That doesn’t matter, you tell yourself. You hadn’t really known her. It doesn’t matter. There’s no real difference, it doesn’t matter.

It’s okay, it’s okay, it never really mattered. You keep telling yourself this as you walk back over to the memorial. As you lay your flowers down with the others, the little posies are dwarfed by the other donations. It didn’t matter. You didn’t know her. None of this matters. Their flowers don’t matter.

You don’t matter. You hit that errant thought with a mental fly swatter.

Exhausted, you sit down next to the monument. You used to be able to lay your head on the stone, able to feel your family in the warmth it had absorbed in the sun. Now you just sort of, awkwardly reached out to the small bit of uncovered plinth at the side. You have to stick your hand through a wreath to do so.

It’s not warm. You wonder if your family are sad. And then you wonder if you’re an idiot for attributing feelings to a literal rock.

After a while, you get up. Cross your arms. You stare at your family's portraits, eyes moving over their smiles. One by one. You recognise some of the photographs, those are your favourites. A smile cracks across your face when you see the picture of when Chasey lost her two front teeth. She still grins cheekily at the camera, uncaring for any changes to her appearance, as all kids shouldn’t.

Your shoulders fall just the slightest bit when you see the picture of Jason Todd. It’s one of his older pictures. Probably seventeen or something. He’d always been a lovely boy when he was younger. And he still was up till he died but you’d always thought you’d seen something start to change in him. That sparkle of innocence, dulled, just the slightest.

And then he’d died. And you’d wondered if maybe he’d felt it was coming.

You certainly hadn’t. It had been like a hurricane tearing through your life. You’d ended up on the other side completely abandoned, the only friend who’d bothered to keep seeing you being one who’d learnt to dodge train ticket costs like a damn ninja. And you’d had to decide whether you could keep doing this, whether you even wanted to.

You were an obsessive creature by nurture. It had been all you could do to hang onto the Waynes, pretend they would love and care for you even if they’d have never even noticed you in real life. You weren’t sure that was strength or simple human survival. Dying was scary. Of course, you were scared of dying.

Your whole family had died. So, you told yourself, that Jason Fucking Todd would be sad if you killed yourself, and somehow, you had made it all these years.

And now here you were, and the Waynes did notice you in real life. You were important to them. You didn’t want to be, but you were. And again, you have to ask yourself, what would Jason Todd ask of you? What would he want you to do now, in this impossible situation you’ve found yourself in?

You stare at the picture. Stare at the way the sun hits his dark hair and blue eyes. Stare very, very hard. Like he might crawl out and give you a detailed list of what to do. You’d really like a detailed list. Or any guidance at all. Maybe you could go hit up a seance or something.

Your head falls forward into your sun-warmed palms. This is so stupid. No answers are going to fall from the sky, you need to find them yourself. And you’re not going to find them here.

Someone walks up beside you to the old memorial, and you quickly tuck yourself back into an acceptable image. Fold in all the rough edges you can. A tall and well-built man, with a face mask, sunglasses and a trucker hat, he looks like he could be a celebrity or something. Someone important, much more than you.

And you weren’t, not technically, at least. The universe had done the equivalent of a shelving error, and now here you goddamn were.

He does an odd pose next to you, something military-esque, where he clasps his hands together and bows his head. With a quick flick of your eyes you confirm, yes, his feet are equal with his shoulders. It’s obvious that he’s paying his respects so you do your best not to judge him too hard.

And then he speaks to you.

“I’m sorry.”

You look up, startled and confused.

“For your loss,” the deep voice finishes, jerking his head toward the pictures in front of the two of you.

“Wha- oh uh, um,” you blink and then realise that this person has recognised you, which would make sense since you are literally in one of the photos in front of you, and manage to pull your fading conscious mind back together for a moment more.

“Thank you, uh-” you stare at him a moment longer, “You too?”

Almost worse than that time you told the barista who gave you your coffee you hoped she enjoyed hers too, but not quite. Well, you know, he’d probably lost someone here too. You don’t know why he’d be here otherwise unless he wanted an autograph or something. The thought almost makes you laugh.

He snorts at your words. You don’t know what to make of that.

He looks back down at the pictures and flowers. You think he does, at least, from the slight shifting of his head. He’s kind of mysterious. Pair that with the deep voice, the muscular and tall physique, and you’re an odd mix of attracted and socially anxious. Not that you’re not always socially anxious, but this guy feels… strong. Dumb again, you can see his biceps from here but…

You just can’t quite shake it off. Strong. Strong.

“They didn’t deserve it, none of them did,” he speaks again, and you wonder what the fuck he’s going on about at all.

You admit, you sound a little bitter when you mutter, “Well, that’s obvious.”

He lets out a bark of laughter, and you see his eyes flash to you from under his sunglasses. A shade of blue. There’s another odd pause, and then he turns to you. You don’t know why he’s looking at you. He crosses his arms, and seems to size you up.

“What are you doing here?” he asks you like he knows you.

Your brow furrows. Okay, kind of losing any hotness points here. Bothering someone who was grieving could’ve been seen as rude from the very start, but you’d just thought he was weird. Now, you thought he was weird and rude.

“…Paying my respects. Obviously,” you gesture downwards, “My mother, my siblings, and…”

Well, how would you describe the relationship between you and Jason Todd now? He was still just a stranger to you and-

“With who, that guy?”

Now, it isn’t often that you’re stunned into silence, but at the moment you can’t find it in you to do anything but stare and gape. Frankly, you’re astonished! You’ve never met anyone who spoke so rudely of the dead, and well, he couldn’t have picked a worse person to do it in front of.

“Excuse me?” your voice can’t seem to convey even half of your offence, even as you sound like you’re about ready to bite a second person for today. The man pauses like you’ve surprised him, which- what the fuck is going on? Why do you feel like an alien crash-landed on Earth these days?

“No, I just meant-” he huffs, shakes his head, and continues, his voice now offended too, “What the fuck am I saying? Yes, I did mean that. That little twerp was a naive idiot who was manipulated by the people he believed in most.”

You stare, absolutely speechless, as the stranger goes on a damn-fucking-near crazed rant about one of the people most important to you. Never met? Sure. Dead as hell? Absolutely. But still, he was one of your lifelines. Your candlelight in the dark, guiding your way even when you felt completely lost. And now he’s calling him a naive idiot? You can practically feel the steam coming out of your ears.

“He changed nothing, made no difference in the end-”

“Nothing?!” you practically shriek, finally able to find your voice just to use it to shout, “He changed… so much! He donated millions of dollars, did heaps of charity work, was practically a treasure to our city… He made multiple homeless shelters, an orphanage, helped rehabilitate criminals and countless other things.”

Your fists are clenched tight enough that they shake. You hide them behind your back, but you still feel like he can probably see them. Your emotions are simmering too close to the surface, bubbling over and onto the floor. About to burn his sneakers to ash.

“You seem like you care a lot,” he says, sounding reserved.

“Of course, I care.”

“…It’s just, you didn’t seem the type, on the TV,” he keeps talking, poking at you for some god-awful reason, and you bark out a harsh laugh.

“Maybe people need to stop making so many fucking assumptions, then? It certainly hasn’t gotten you anywhere,” you throw your hands up, damn sick of all the constant fucking surveillance you’re under. You can see why this version of you lost her mind. You’re near about to as well.

He stares at you for a moment longer, and you start feeling too uncomfortable. It’s a stupid and useless protectiveness that has you staying. Like he’ll somehow try and harm the shrine to your people. It’s happened before, Joker fanboys defacing it and such. This guy could be one of those bastards.

And yet… somehow you feel…

“I’ll keep that in mind,” he finally says.

“Good, you do that.”

“But in the end, nothing’s really changed. Joker’s still out and about, as you well know.”

You physically flinch like you’ve been slapped. For a good minute there, all you can do is stare at him in disbelief. You raise one shaking fist, and lift one trembling finger, pointing. The man looks in the direction you’ve pointed, and when he doesn’t see anything, turns back to you. His sunglasses reflect the grey afternoon sun.

“Go,” you order, voice shaking just like the rest of you.

He just keeps staring at you. You wish he’d take off those dumb fucking glasses, so you could see this asshole’s face. Etch it into your mind. He doesn’t move, doesn’t say anything, doesn’t take any action. He simply waits for you to… Well, you don’t know what you’ll do. You haven’t known what you’d do since you left Dick behind two hours ago.

“You need to go,” you say again, and again, he doesn’t fucking move, “You… there’s… you have no right.”

You can hear the buzz of the city around you, the wind rushing by. His clothes rustle in the wind. Your voice sounds too loud in your ears, but he won’t just… he won’t leave. You don’t want this stranger here, watching you. Judging you. It’s all…

“Jason didn’t do anything wrong,” you say, and you think to yourself, desperately, ‘I didn’t do anything wrong.’

There’s a slight shift in the stranger’s posture. His shoulders tensed.

You think you’ve offended him.

“The Joker… That’s nobody's fault but the government for not just sucking it up and giving him the death penalty, or Batman’s for not doing it himself a long time ago. They’re all fucking useless, but they’re the ones who are supposed to be dealing with this!” you continue, your words growing more heated. It’s only the already looming threat of an assault case that keeps you from shoving the guy. Not like you’d be able to move him an inch, of course, he was huge.

You’re sure it would feel good, though.

“It was never some random teenager's responsibility, and it wasn't mine either,” you say, but find yourself pausing for a moment when you hear the end of your sentence. It doesn’t matter. It’s not like it wasn’t obvious anyway.

You’d tied yourself and Jason up together in your head. To you, you were both two sides of the same coin. One foot in the grave. You’ve got one foot in the grave…

“Jason Todd was a good person, and he made the world a better place.”

You look down at the portrait of the boy, his toothy smile twisting at your heart. None of this was fair. None of this had ever been fair. Why was this guy acting like anybody here had ever been able to do anything about it? Like Jason should’ve been smarter, and avoided a fucking bomb blast?

It was stupid. This was stupid, and you were over it. You were tired.

“And I miss him.”

It’s quiet after you say that.

“I don’t know how you can think it’s fair to act like his death was pointless when… of course it was, all of this was pointless,” you say, throwing your hands wide and gesturing to the entire memorial. “This was a tragedy, but Jason was a victim. And I’m sick of people like you who think they can decide whether someone else’s life was lived right. It’s not your damn right.”

“Now… fuck off!” you announce, and to your shock, he does. He fucks right off. The man gives you one last lingering look, and then turns and leaves without another word. Not like you needed them.

You huff out a shocked breath, and then turn back to the memorial.

The framed faces of your loved ones stare back at you, and for all you know it’s stupid, you can’t help but feel embarrassed for the display. You know your mother would’ve scolded you for your language, at least.

“Sorry,” you say, and you’re unfortunately reminded of that irritating man again. Likely that won’t be the first time he pops up again in your head. He seemed well, insane. Which wasn’t that odd in Gotham but… god, you just couldn’t seem to let it go.

It pissed you off to high heaven. His rudeness was something you’d usually be able to shrug off, especially from some random stranger, but, but, but-! Argh, damn it all. And it wasn’t like that was the first time you had had that sort of conversation, but it was certainly the first time someone had been so bold as to bring it up in front of your dead mother’s smiling face.

Earlier today had snuffed out the fire in you, but that encounter had been the spark to reignite it. More than that, actually. It had made you so damn pissed, made your blood boil in a way you just couldn’t ignore, to the point that you wanted to prove him wrong.

Jason Todd had mattered and had made a difference and change in Gotham. He had made a change in you. You put your hands on your hips, stare down at the flowers, and make a decision.

You’re going to fix your goddamn life. For Jason Fucking Todd.

Your body feels like shit, your brain feels like it’s stuffed with cotton wool, and yet this is the greatest opportunity you’ve ever been given. You have a chance to save yourself, and save your friends, and fix all the tiny little problems in Gotham that you’ve suffered through since childhood. Surely just throwing enough money at all your problems would fix some of them.

You were rich. If you couldn’t fix your life with millions of dollars available, then you had no chance.

And yeah, you don’t know what you’re doing. You know you can’t really change what happened. Back then or even just a few days ago. But you hate that. You hate it so much. You hate how weak you are in the face of loss. How both then and now, there’s nothing you can really do. And maybe if just out of spite, towards that asshat, Batman, Joker and everyone else, you want to make a change.

You want to be able to do something about it. You want it, so fucking bad.

First order of business?

…You want more flowers.

MASTERLIST - NEXT

[crystallinestars]

Comforting you when you're sad

Headcanons about the Genshin boys comforting you when you're feeling down for whatever reason.

I don't know what I wrote but I hope it's enjoyable nonetheless.

Characters: Venti, Lyney, Kaeya, Alhaitham, Wanderer, Kaveh

Venti

🍃 When Venti first sees the sullen expression on your face, his cheerful smile wanes into concerned curiosity as he asks what happened to make you so sad. He doesn’t want to force you to answer if you would rather not talk about it, but he can tell the sadness is weighing heavy on your heart, so he takes you home and asks one more time what happened. His words and voice are gentle, his gaze tender as he cups and strokes your cheek, hoping to make you comfortable enough to open up to him.

🍃 His gentle coaxing works to make your guard crumble and the tears you held back come streaming down your cheeks. Venti isn’t used to comforting crying people, but he hugs you, letting you cry into his shoulder while stroking your head, letting you know it’s okay to cry. He doesn’t say a word until your crying fit subsides into hiccups and sniffles, and only then does he let his voice be heard as he softly hums a lullaby he once overheard a mother sing to a crying child a long time ago.

🍃 When you’ve calmed down, Venti asks what you want to do. He'll stay with you if you would rather stay home to keep you company, however, he thinks it would do you some good to go out instead of staying cooped up in these four walls. If you agree to go outside, Venti will stroll around the city market, trying to entice you with this item or that. Do you want to check out the knickknacks at Marjorie’s? Or the new potions Timaeus is brewing? Or what about that one dish at the Good Hunter you’ve always wanted to try but never got around to? Venti would buy them all for you—his treat! He would even brave his cat allergy and stop by the Cat’s Paw so you can try one of Diona’s special concoctions. Venti acts peppy and cheery throughout the impromptu date, hoping to lift your dampened mood with his enthusiasm.

🍃 If the little date doesn’t do the trick to cheer you up, then Venti drags you outside the city walls. Leading you by the hand, Venti brings you to the open grassy plains of Windrise and beckons you to take in the world around you. Look at that beautiful blue sky and feel the warmth of the sun on your skin. Feel the wind play with your hair and hear the rustling of leaves in the great oak tree. Walk along the beach with him while smelling the salty ocean breeze and splashing water at each other as if you were little children. Climb the oak tree at Windrise and watch the squirrels and birds that call it their home scurry about in the branches. Lay in the grass and watch the starry sky with him while he strums a soothing song on his lyre that he composed just for you.

🍃 It's not a guarantee his method will work, but Venti hopes this outing can help you feel free from whatever burdens you. Despite his youthful appearance and demeanor, Venti is an old soul who has seen and experienced his fair share of suffering. He is aware that sadness sticks around far longer than joy, for such is the human condition, but he also knows that it shouldn’t overshadow everything in life. Though life can beat you down and Venti may not be able to solve your problems, there is so much more to the world than the little bubble you confine yourself to.

Lyney

🎩 Lyney’s expression lights up when he sees you from afar, but the tired look in your eyes and the weak smile you give him tell the magician you’re feeling down. He looks at you in concern and gently asks if something is wrong to make you so down. He attentively listens if you want to share the reason, and lets the conversation go if you don’t want to talk about it, but either way, he wants to distract you from your negative feelings.

🎩 Lyney has the most experience dealing with Lynette’s sour moods, so out of habit he brings you to a café and lets you order anything you want from the menu, offering to pay for it. He lets you talk if you want to vent or if you want to stay quiet, he fills the silence with funny stories about people he saw in the streets of Fontaine.

🎩 Though he appears his usual chipper self, in reality, he’s worried about you. If spending time with him isn’t enough to brighten your mood, Lyney drops his cheery façade and gently takes your hands in his. With a concerned look, he persuades you to at the very least stop bottling up your emotions and depend on him. As an older brother, he feels a lot of responsibility to care for those he loves, and that responsibility also extends to you.

🎩 Once he sees that his words touched your heart and you’re on the verge of tears, he escorts you to a private alleyway where you can cry freely without the prying eyes of passersby. Lyney hugs you close and whispers words of comfort in your ear, letting you cry into his shoulder. He has a lot of experience comforting Lynette and his siblings at the orphanage, so Lyney knows what to do to support you during your most vulnerable moment. His reassurances help calm you down, and he wipes your tears away with a handkerchief. Though it saddens him to see you so upset, he’s also grateful that you opened up to him about your feelings.

🎩 Afterward, Lyney offers to take you to play with his animal assistants. He teaches you how to feed them, and watches you play with his animals, seeing you gradually relax and give a small smile as a pigeon coos and cuddles into your hand.

🎩 Alternatively, Lyney might invite you to a private magic show; one he designed for your eyes only. The magician brings you to his room in the orphanage where the two of you can be alone and he has access to his props. With a cheeky smirk and flourish of his hand, Lyney materializes a Rainbow Rose from thin air and hands it to you, telling you to keep your eyes on him. He begins his performance, narrating it like any regular show even though you’re the sole audience member. Lyney shows off all the tricks he is certain you haven’t seen before, even mixing in some new ones he hasn’t quite perfected but included anyway. He injects a dramatic and comedic flair into the performance in the hopes of making you laugh. Once you do, Lyney grins, pleased he could make you feel better. In his mind, laughter is the best cure for sadness.

Kaeya

❄️ When Kaeya catches a glimpse of you, he is instantly able to tell you’re out of sorts. Though you smile at him, it’s weak and does a poor job of masking the sorrow in your eyes. You’re clearly not as okay as you try to seem, but Kaeya is unsure of how to help you feel better. He’s not used to comforting people. His only experiences are helping crying children find their parents during crowded festivals, and clumsily bandaging Diluc’s scrapes when they were little. But you are neither a child nor his sworn brother, so he momentarily feels lost about how to help you.

❄️ Such delicate situations are not Kaeya’s forte, but as your boyfriend, he wants to help you feel better. So, he steels himself and, in his usual teasing lilt, inquires what happened to make you look so sour. Though he sounds playful, Kaeya takes your feelings seriously, so when you look like you’re about to cry, he quickly escorts you somewhere private.

❄️ When you break down, he’s at a loss for what to do since he’s never had to comfort anyone like this before. Then, a memory surfaces in his mind of when Adelinde hugged him as a crying child, so he hesitantly wraps you up in a loose embrace, mimicking her hug the best he could. It’s a foreign feeling, holding you while you cry into his shoulder. He feels helpless just standing there with your shaking body in his arms, but he also knows it’s the best he can do for you right now, so he gently rubs your back the way Adelinde did for him all those years ago and hopes it helps you the way it did him.

❄️ Kaeya stays quiet until your crying fit subsides. He’s unsure of what to say as you slowly collect yourself, but he softly asks if you want to go drinking. Perhaps some alcohol from the Angel’s Share can help you feel better? If you agree, Kaeya takes you to the tavern where you share a drink and watch a bard perform a heroic epic about an adventurer. Alternatively, if you like cats, Kaeya brings you to the Cat’s Paw to play with the cats there and get a specialty drink from Diona (his treat). He also coerces you into a few rounds of TCG and pretends to play fairly but purposely loses to give you the wins in the hopes that the little victories would brighten your mood.

❄️ If you don’t want to drink, then Kaeya invites you over to the Dawn Winery. It feels strange to bring you to his childhood home when he hasn’t lived there in years, but he’s hoping that Adelinde could help. Ever since the head maid found out that Kaeya had a lover, she had asked for details about you, but Kaeya refused to disclose much of anything. Questions about his love life from someone he saw as a mother figure made him shy, so he avoided talking about you.

❄️ As he expected, Adelinde was overjoyed to finally meet you and she welcomed you inside just as warmly as she did Kaeya. She whips up a delicious dinner for your pair and spends the evening chatting with you, asking you about yourself and sharing all of Kaeya’s childhood stories that he never told you about, especially the funny ones much to his chagrin. The homey atmosphere and fun conversation do the trick to take your mind off of whatever bothered you, and though it came at Kaeya’s expense, he was happy to see you smiling like your usual self again.

Alhaitham

🎧 Upon your arrival home, Alhaitham’s brows pinch together in concern when he sees you looking down. He doesn’t pry into what happened, preferring for you to tell him what was wrong when you were ready to talk about it. However, if you don’t share the reason behind your sadness, and your mood doesn’t improve or grows worse, the Scribe gently calls out to you and tactfully asks what happened in a calm and gentle tone.

🎧 No matter how small the reason, Alhaitham hears you out without judgment, understanding that people can have a bouquet of reactions to situations he may not perceive to be as worthy of his concern. Even if he wouldn’t feel the same as you in your situation, he still tries to understand your point of view and help you deal with your emotions. If Alhaitham finds it applicable, he will offer advice for your situation. However, he is perceptive enough to tell when mere advice won’t help resolve your current mood, and that you require comfort. 

🎧 Alhaitham’s eyes soften, and he gently pulls you into his chest with a simple comment: “Don’t hold it all in. Cry if you need to.” Sometimes, releasing pent-up emotions is what a person needs to feel better, and the Scrobe doesn’t want you to wallow in your misery all alone. He holds you to him while you cry, placing his chin atop your head and lightly stroking your back in comfort without saying a word. 

🎧 His usually calm expression turns somber and his hold on you tightens a little as a dull ache surges through his heart. Alhaitham is not one to become influenced by the emotions of others easily, but despite what some people may think, he is not immune to others’ distress. He doesn’t like seeing others suffer, and seeing you so upset is no exception. Your suffering affects him a little more because he loves you and wants you to be at your best, so he will do everything in his power to help.

🎧 Once your crying fit subsides, Alhaitham lets you choose what you want to do next. If you want some privacy to deal with your emotions, he lets you go and occasionally checks up on you to see how you’re doing. If you say you want to stay with him, Alhaitham fetches a blanket knitted by his late grandmother that she used to wrap him up in and drapes it over you. He brews you a cup of tea before inviting you to read with him on the sofa. Should you choose to join him, Alhaitham will keep an arm around you while reading a book, not interrupting your reading but letting you feel he’s here. 

🎧 If you’re not in the mood to read, then the Scribe cuddles with you on the sofa. He lets you rest your head on his chest, running a hand along your back while holding a book with the other. If you want to hear the sound of his voice, Alhaitham will read the book to you out loud. If you prefer the silence and the sound of his heartbeat, then he stays quiet and holds you until you fall asleep, kissing your forehead once you doze off.

Wanderer

☂️ As soon as Wanderer sees you, he instantly realizes you’re feeling down. Even when you smile and say you’re fine, his perceptive nature makes it easy for him to tell you’re not. As a frank person, Wanderer prefers you to be straightforward about your feelings and wants, so it’s frustrating when you keep things to yourself like this. He frowns and asks what made you act like such a wet blanket, but despite his unfriendly scowl, he remains patient and hears you out.

☂️ What he’s not prepared for is your tears. When you start crying in the middle of your explanation, Wanderer’s frown melts into surprise and then concern before quickly pulling you into a hug. He’s not used to comforting crying people, but a part of Wanderer urges him to comfort you, so he follows his instincts. Soothing words and caresses are not his forte, but Wanderer quietly murmurs for you to stop bottling everything inside and confide in him. Cry if you need to, it’s fine. He’s got you.

☂️ Wanderer’s embrace is both tight yet careful as if he were holding something precious and fragile. The way you felt in his arms was certainly fragile. Shoulders hunched and shaking, muffling your sniffles against his shirt and soaking the fabric with your tears. Something in his chest feels tight when he sees you this broken, and it sparks a desire in him to fix whatever happened to make you this upset. Even if the cause is outside of his power to fix, Wanderer at least wants you to stop crying and go back to your annoying and yet endearing self.

☂️ When you calm down, Wanderer acts more mindful around you. He chooses his words carefully and keeps his tone soft as he tells you it’s normal to be upset in this situation, but you shouldn’t lose hope so easily. Usually, he would be blunter with his words, but with you in such a precarious state, he wants to be careful. He knows his bluntness can sometimes upset people, and the last thing he wants is to make you more upset.

☂️ Wanderer lets you choose what you want to do: do you want to stay home or come with him to a secret place? If you choose to stay home, he tells you to clean yourself up while he busies himself in the kitchen. He whips up a few delicious and hearty dishes and tells you to eat and stop moping when he serves them up. When you point out that these are all your favorite foods, he scoffs and says that it’s all he could make with the ingredients on hand, but reluctantly adds that he thought your favorite foods would help you feel better. If you thank him, he grows flustered and tells you not to because he didn’t do anything special, but it makes him feel happy inside that you appreciated his efforts.

☂️ If you choose to come with him, then Wanderer takes you to a secret place of his. It’s a little vantage point he found in the Lokapala Jungle that looks especially pretty at night, and he wanted to bring you here one day but figured today was as good a day as any. He flies up there with you and lets you take in the view. Surrounding you are various bioluminescent flora that disperse the darkness with their soft glow. Fireflies softly float about your pair as you sit on the soft grass and look up at the star-filled sky. There’s an ethereal beauty to the place that distracts you from your depressing thoughts and lifts your sunken spirits. He stays here with you for as long as you want, chatting about various topics and weaving you a flower crown to remember the occasion by.

Kaveh

🍷 When Kaveh sees your sullen demeanor, he immediately realizes you’re feeling down. He knows what it’s like to suffer from sadness and depression all alone, and he doesn’t want you to deal with such feelings on your own. Though it’s hypocritical of him, the architect wishes that you would confide in him, so gently prompts you to share what happened. Even if you tell him you’re fine, Kaveh won’t buy it but won’t pressure you to tell him.

🍷 However, he worries deeply about your mental well-being, and if he sees no improvements or even a worsening of your mental state, he takes your hand and leads you to the sofa. Kaveh cups your cheek and pleads with you to confide in him. Tell him what’s wrong because he wants to help you feel better so badly, and it frustrates him that he can’t.

🍷 His efforts pay off in making you give in and tell him what happened to make you feel this way. Even if there’s no particular reason for your sadness, Kaveh takes your feelings seriously. He wraps his arms around you in a gentle yet firm hug when you start crying, his expression solemn because seeing you in pain like this makes his heart ache. Kaveh holds you close until you let out all your sadness, whispering reassurances and kissing the top of your head. He strokes your back to comfort you, not caring that you’re soaking his shirt with tears and snot. Your well-being is far more important to him than his clothes.

🍷 Once you calm down, Kaveh dotes on you. He gets you tissues, some water, a blanket—you name it, he’ll bring it. With a gentle smile, Kaveh asks if you want to go out and do something to get your mind off whatever made you sad. If you want to stay home to recuperate from your crying fit, then Kaveh will spend the evening cuddling you and making sure you’re okay.

🍷 If you accept, Kaveh will take you out to Lambad’s Tavern. When life beat him down, he turned to heavy drinking to forget his troubles, and though he doesn’t want you to get plastered the way he did (because it’s bad for your health! He says) he offers to buy you a drink, hoping a light buzz could take the edge off your grief. Even if you don’t drink alcohol, Kaveh buys you a non-alcoholic drink and keeps you company. From his personal experience, sometimes a drink and good company are all you need to feel better, so he chats about various topics and gives advice if you need it. He also listens if you want to vent, offering a sympathetic ear and supportive words.

🍷 If you don’t want to drink, Kaveh takes you out on a stroll around Sumeru city. He surmises that a change of scenery can help take your mind off things, so he takes your hand and walks along the streets, showing you all the spots with pretty views. He comments how each location looks especially beautiful during sunset or at night when the stars are shining in the sky and offers to bring you here later if you want to see that breathtaking view. Afterward, he takes you out for a delicious meal at his expense. Kaveh is more than willing to spend his meager savings on you if it means making you happy. He won’t be able to rest easy unless you feel better, so he pulls out all the stops to try and cheer you up if only a little.

[a-mint-bear]

Her Favorite Employee

Female Yandere x Female Reader

You're the personal assistant of your company's CEO. She's controlling, married to her job, and runs you ragged. But you're good at your job, and she loves to let you know how much she appreciates you.

----------------------------------

"What's on my schedule for this afternoon?"

A quick recap of what was on the docket for that day as you dropped off her coffee order. Soon she’d be in back to back meetings while you handled her calls and made the rounds to the various teams she oversaw. Same as most mornings.

“Wonderful. Make sure to have the Hillmore reports on my desk by three, and send a nice gift basket to Reynolds in Sales. His wife just had twins.”

You told her the reports would be done before her lunch with R&D, and you’d already sent a basket with her name on it two days ago which included a gift certificate to a local spa for the new mother.

“I knew you’d be on it.” She smiled into her coffee. “Much obliged, love.”

You nodded behind your tablet, trying not to be obvious about your lack of eye contact. It was torture when she called you that.

It was a lot, working under her. But at the same time, it was oddly… fulfilling. She gave you so many responsibilities and trusted, more expected, you to come through. Every time.

Not even six months ago you'd been just another employee. It was a decent job; Good pay and benefits, and the work was easy enough, the hours sucked sometimes but it wasn't like you had a rich social life it was cutting into.

You didn’t make any friends in the office, you weren’t sure any of your coworkers even knew your name. To them, you were just “that one girl who refills the paper in the copier”. Because someone has to, and you work with a bunch of animals who think that the paper just magically replenishes itself. Now you were “The Boss’ secretary”, that was at least more respectable? Maybe?

But before you were her assistant, you were just her “favorite employee”. And that was more trouble than it was worth.

She didn’t care much for being called by her surname like most of the superiors in the company, but no one was brave enough to call her by her given name. So most in the company just called her Boss or Miss. And she liked it that way. You were pretty sure she just liked how intimidating it made her seem.

She was always around. At first, you thought it might've been because she was your boss. She was probably just trying to see if you were any good at your job, maybe looking for a reason to fire you if she noticed anything off. But ever since you were hired, it just kept happening. Your first days in the office quickly turned into weeks and she was still circling you for seemingly no reason.

You could excuse it to yourself, maybe she was the micromanaging type. But her attention always seemed to be on you, almost exclusively, more than anyone else in the office. And it was… intimidating. For a couple of reasons.

She seemed to love… picking on you, if you could call it that. Any extra projects she needed done? You were her first choice. Fixing the new guy's botched paperwork before a big deadline? You were on it, of course. Overtime? Yup, you. It would be more annoying if you weren't getting paid really well. But you always got it all done, ahead of schedule, without any complaints.

And if she wasn't being oddly petty, she was being… oddly flirty.

Sitting on the edge of her desk when she talked quarterly reports over with you. Leaning a little too close when she took something off your desk. Her fingers brushed yours when you handed her things. A bump to your arm with hers here, a touch to your shoulder there… Every time you wondered if you were just imagining things, it happened again. She never did anything overtly inappropriate or pushed past any sign you were uncomfortable, but the truth was… you weren’t. It was a bit much to have this beautiful woman pay so much attention to you, but you weren’t going to lie, it wasn’t… the worst thing in the world.

It contrasted hard with her usual put-together image, prim and proper and out of reach from the mere mortals in the office. But as far as you’d noticed, she didn’t act this way in front of anyone else in the office. And you didn’t know what to do with that information.

You weren’t sure if any of it was on purpose, or if she was just flirtatious by nature. It was always hard to tell with women, as a woman. Was she into you? Was she even attracted to women?? Or did she get her jollies by flustering the office loner?

She stayed just as late as you most nights, if not longer. And checked up on you. And chatted with you when she had a minute. You just didn't get why. You weren't anyone special. And she was so…

She was gorgeous, always so well put-together and stunning. You'd never met a woman who was so beautiful it made you nervous, like a dumb teenager. But it couldn't outweigh how much she got on your nerves with how she was always in your business, so the conflicting emotions just made for long, exhausting workdays.

If she knew you were annoyed with her, she never let it show. But it wasn't long before you realized just why she'd been watching you so closely.

One day, all the creeping around and odd attention she was paying you started to make sense. The Boss Lady called you into a meeting with herself and the head of H.R. and just…

Offered you a promotion. Just like that.

"I've been really impressed by your work ethic.” She was being so poised and professional, every word out of her mouth sounded so assured, even though you were very much a deer in the headlights at the moment. “I need someone with a work/life balance that matches my own and can work with my schedule to be my personal Executive Assistant. Your hours would increase, but there will be a significant pay raise and company benefits.”

And boy, what a significant pay raise it was. You'd have to be a complete idiot to turn it down. It meant more responsibilities in the company and you'd be expected to dress up a bit more for appearance's sake, but a few suit jackets and skirts with nice dress shoes would be more in your price range now. It would mean spending A LOT more time with her though, and you weren't sure if your weak heart could take the damn near constant presence of this woman.

But maybe, SOMEHOW, it really was all in your head. Maybe the proximity to her while she was vetting you for the position just had you all mixed up?

Maybe the money was making you too eager to accept, but accept you did.

And it was normal, or as normal as things could be around that place, at least for a little while.

----------------------------------

You were scheduling some meetings for her and logging them in her calendar when another co-worker knocked on your office door.

“Oh hey, do you have a minute?”

You recognized them… You didn’t remember their full name but everyone called them Jay.

They started a few months after you did, and they seemed nice enough. Right now they looked a little out of sorts, which was unusual. They were usually the cool, flirty, sporty type who was good friends with everyone, not an awkward bone in their body. The two of you weren’t friends or anything, but there was no bad blood between the two of you.

You asked them what was up, and it took them a minute before finally spitting it out.

“Okay, so… totally tell me to screw off if I’m barkin’ up the wrong tree here.” It was kind of funny seeing them so nervous. “Would you wanna… go to dinner tomorrow?”

Without thinking, you pulled up your planner, asking if there’d been an email you’d missed about some team-building thing. But they just laughed.

“No, I meant… Just you and me.”

You froze, wondering if you had heard right. You cut to the chase, asking if they meant like a date?

“We don’t have to call it a date, if you don’t want to!” They held up their hands defensively, like you were someone they were worried about offending with this. You wondered how people saw you around here for them to be so nervous. Or maybe they just… really liked you that much. “But… yeah. I wanted to ask you out.”

You gave it a moment to sink in.

You weren’t automatically thinking of saying no. Did that mean you wanted to say yes? They were tall and attractive, in a “soft beanpole with a cute haircut” kind of way. They looked good in their usual button up with the rolled-up sleeves, and pulled the look off better than half the people around the office. The opposite of your very feminine boss. Looks-wise they were nothing alike, but both had the same confident, assertive air about them. Maybe that was appealing to you, and Jay was just as much your type as the Boss was.

You scolded yourself. Why were you thinking about her? Now?

At the end of the day, you didn’t see any reason to say no. It could be a nice time. This stupid not-a-crush you had on your boss was never going to go anywhere, so why not try and see someone who went out of their way to ask you out? If it didn’t work out, you would handle it like an adult.

Jay looked nervous that you’d been thinking for so long. You told them you had a pretty packed schedule, but if you could get a night off, it would be nice to have dinner with them tomorrow. You half-jokingly told them that if it went well, you’d slap the “date” label on it. Their cheeks went a bit red, but they were grinning ear to ear.

“Cool!” They laughed, a bit too loud before catching themself, playing it cool. “I mean uh… That sounds good. Let me know.”

They quickly left, muttering to themself to “keep it together”, probably thinking you couldn’t hear. It was kind of cute, in a weird way. Maybe they were shyer than you’d originally thought.

But now came the hard part. Getting a night off.

----------------------------------

“No, that won't do.” She didn’t even look up from her computer.

That’s all she had to say to your request. At first, you felt disappointed but you were ready to just turn around and leave, accepting it. But this was just... bothering you. You piped up, trying to reason with her. Her schedule was free tomorrow night and you were a week ahead on all the reports she’d put you in charge of. You hadn’t had a night off in a few weeks.

And you’d never complained. You’d even kind of liked the challenge, the effort you put into your work gave you purpose. Working as her personal assistant was the most rewarding job you’d ever had. And you even told her so.

So why?

She sighed, she seemed almost… annoyed?

“I heard some chatter in the hall this afternoon.” She just kept typing away. “Someone was asking about restaurant recommendations for a big date. They seemed excited about having finally asked out the CEO’s assistant. And that they were so surprised she’d said yes.”

So she knew? She knew you were asking for a night off for a date? What did that have to do with anything? But you kept quiet for the moment, wondering where she was going with this.

“Maybe it’s my fault.” she sighed, sitting back in her plush office chair. “I was too…generous. I wanted to make you feel comfortable working for me so I let you do what you wanted. I can admit to my mistakes.”

Generous? By working you like a dog day in and day out? By keeping you from doing something as simple as going on a date with someone who was interested in you?

You asked her why. Why was she so against you having a life? Why was she doing this?

You knew it was a bad-no, a super bad idea to be mouthing off to your boss. Possibly career-ending. But you’d done so much for her, every day for months on end and never letting her down no matter how difficult or grueling the task. And she couldn’t even give you this one night off?

You needed a reason.

“Oh, it’s quite simple.” She smiled her usual stunning smile. But you weren’t going to let it get to you this time. No ma’am. But as she got up from her desk, coming around to stand too damn close, you felt your resolve slipping.

“From the day you started working here, I knew I wanted to keep you by my side.”

As an employee, right?

. . .

Right??

“You were… quite the sight.” she sighed, a dreamy smile as she looked at you from beneath her long, dark lashes. “So put off by everyone. Always on your own. Uninterested. Unengaged. Unmotivated. At first I just wanted to frazzle you, make you lighten up a bit. You seemed so isolated, I figured a strong personality like mine would rub you the wrong way. But you had such an… interesting reaction.”

The both of you knew what she meant. The blushing, the nervous energy, all the times you tried so hard to act like you weren’t bothered by her attention. And most likely failed miserably.

“I saw how hard you worked. I could see your untapped potential. You were exactly what I needed. I knew I had to make you mine.”

You told her you didn’t understand. And maybe that was a lie. You couldn’t stop your thoughts from racing. She… wasn’t talking about work anymore, was she?

“I made you my assistant. You’re by my side, day in and day out. And… I thought that would be enough to satisfy this feeling. This... need. But it just wasn’t. And when I heard someone had taken an interest in you, I found myself quite…”

The intensity in her eyes felt so suffocating.

”Infuriated.”

You couldn't help but flinch when she laid her hands flat on your chest, just below your collar bone. Her touch burned itself into you, but you couldn’t take your eyes off hers. It felt like she’d devour you if you did.

“No one…” She grabbed you by your collar and yanked you closer, whispering in your ear. You hated the shiver it sent up your spine. “No one will ever take you away from me. Not another company. Not another department. And certainly not some little upstart from Sales.”

… She wasn’t talking about work anymore.

“If someone else took you from me... there would be no point in any of this. This job. It was so… stuffy and boring before you came along. Every day was just office politics and saying the right things to the right people.” She loosened her grip, straightening the collar on your suit jacket with an airy, light touch. “But you… You changed something. So I brought you to my side. And I’ve been watching, getting to know all about you. You play down your talents so you don’t draw any attention. But you can’t help yourself. What you want more than anything is for someone to say they appreciate you, that they need you.”

She had to know how this sounded, right? She almost sounded like…

“And I do.” She held your face in her hand, her thumb grazing your cheek so gently you could’ve convinced yourself her touch wasn’t real. “I need you, love. Without you, none of this means anything.”

Your breathing was shaky, you never imagined that this would- could ever happen in a million years.

She drew you closer, a soft gasp slipping out when you realized just how close. If anyone else popped in, it would be completely obvious what was going on. But you didn’t push her away. If anything, you wished she would just close the gap and take it out of your hands.

“So what do you say?” She whispered in your ear, the warmth of her breath making you feel weak. “Are you mine?”

As if you could say anything else.

Yes, Miss.

It was so soft a response that you weren’t sure you’d said it out loud until you saw her smile. A finger to your lips, she laughed. Not her usual teasing, mischievous laugh when she was trying to get a reaction out of you. It was sweet, delighted and charming.

She was so close, her breath on your lips, her lashes just barely brushed your cheek.

“And I'm yours, love.”

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this one has been a long time coming, writing femme yanderes is difficult lol

this y/n ended up being a lady, and it didn't come into play much. but the hypercompetent assistant girl in love with her powerful boss lady is a wlw pairing near and dear to my heart.

Boss Lady's tentative full name is Lenora. she doesn't care for it, she goes by Nora. i originally gave her a last name to be called by in the story to make her seem more imposing, but it came off as awkward, like she has a name, but i didn't want her to be known by an unimportant surname

Jay started off as a lady, but i wrote her as more androgynous and it felt right to make them nb instead. it helped keep the reader's sexuality more ambiguous. i wanted to write them as wlw, but not strictly a lesbian. but she reads very much as a "useless lesbian" trope lol. Boss lady had to flirt with her for literal months on end before y/n caught on

i don't quite know how old Boss Lady is, i imagine her as late 30s, very early 40s, and there could be an age difference here, but it's not a necessary part of the story.

this Boss Lady COULD be the same Boss Lady as the one in Boss Lady has a House Spouse, sometime in the future of their relationship. maybe y/n gets burned out or quits for some reason and then becomes a domestic partner. But Boss Lady who obsesses over her employee was imagined as a separate Boss Lady originally. you can never have too many boss ladies.

and that header. i've said it before that editing the femme yandere headers is so awkward because the office lady ones just turn into their chests in tight button-downs lol

*whispers* would you guys find it weird if she called the reader "good girl"? 'cause i almost included it at the end there but thought it might be a bit much. i have a problem✌️

[vixensp1ce]

mmm blade & demon fucking perhaps?

fem!reader \ kinktober

imagine you - a weak, powerless human, requiring the services of a demon for some reason.

you find a summoning ritual from the sketchy magick (the lady specifically insists it's spelt with a 'k', and frankly you don't know the difference) shop down the street.

you're surprised (read: terrified) when it works, and even more so when he presses his claws against the force field and it holds.

"those cloves don't do anything," he rumbles, amber eyes aglow. you feel like you're about to piss yourself.

you tell the demon what you want. and he scoffs.

"you summoned me... for this? humans have such insignificant desires."

you bristle. it's not insignificant, you went to all the trouble of summoning him - but he's already moving on to tell you what he needs. an exchange of energy. the oldest, most carnal exchange of energy there is.

he bares his teeth. "sex."

you hesitate, and he chuckles, low and dangerous. "i can't hurt you, if you're worried about that."

so you agree to the contract. your energy in exchange for whatever it is that you want.

he coalesces into a form that's almost human - long, black hair, well-muscled, but skin laced with golden veins and the same molten, smouldering amber eyes.

he steps over the protective markings, and that's when it finally hits you that you've just signed a contract with a demon. you take a step back.

his eyes track you like a bird of prey, and in the low light, you could've sworn he wet his lips.

"wh-what should i call you?" you stammer out, trying to put on a brave front. he stalks towards you slowly, like a great cat, taking his time to take in your room around him.

"hmm." he picks up a trinket from your table, rolls it between his fingers. "blade will do."

"blade- ow." the back of your knees bump into the edge of your bed. you glance back, and when you look up again, blade is there, right in front of you.

"never turn your back on a demon." he relishes your yelp when his sharp nails catch on your skin, shoving you into the mattress and trapping you there.

"convenient you held the ritual in your bedroom." he buries his nose into the side of your neck - you smelled sweet and ripe, like all humans did, thrumming with life and energy that he thrived off of. "did you want to get fucked by a demon?"

"n-no," you protest, desperately trying to will away the goosebumps as blade ghosts his teeth over the vein under your jaw. "just take what you need and go away."

he makes an amused noise. "you taste like lies."

the demon's dick is similarly laced with golden veins - hot, heavy, and pulsing against your ribbed walls even without him moving. you can't hold back your shuddering moan as blade pushes in, not unkindly, your own nails gripping onto him so tightly they leave marks.

"so- big-" you gasp, back arching and walls fluttering desperately, trying to get used to him. "too big-"

he growls. the sound is so full of desire that it sends a jolt of arousal into your stomach, and you can feel yourself leaking around his cock.

"humans." he bares his teeth, and you think he might be mad if not for his twitching dick inside of you. "so small, so weak, so warm."

he thrusts into you with all the restraint of a supernatural creature, but it isn't enough to stop his tip from kissing your cervix or his curious golden veins from scraping against the softest parts of you.

you're a tearful, shaking mess before too long, cumming so hard around his cock you can see stars (or maybe it's just his amber eyes in the dark).

but he grins down into your face, all sharp teeth and mirthless joy. the more energy you give him, the more blessings he can give you - wouldn't you like a little more of the gifts he can bestow on you?

[neiptune]

jjk characters x how to know they're in love

cw: mentions of alcohol, i wanted something quick and fun to write, as always this is nothing but my personal interpretation of characters i happen to love very much! i really hope these will warm you up on cold december nights :)

it's common knowledge that yuuji is affection & warmth incarnated therefore the question is, how can you tell that someone like him has fallen for you and is not simply being his usual self? well, he had to learn the hard way that extra efforts are needed to convey what he feels for that special someone. they aren't going to assume, they won't guess, so what's left to do if not being absolutely adamant about his feelings? you will know yuuji is in love because he will tell you. yuuji, in turn, will know he's in love because his heart will disclose the feeling to him immediately, as soon as he starts thinking that a good day is not so good if you're not around and certainly never good enough if he can't tell you about it. his love resides in his eyes and nestles between his eyelashes, it's the one thing he's jealous of and selfishly hopes no one else will ever look at you and see just how brightly you shine. he makes the process of falling for him exceptionally gentle, too: you never once have to brace yourself for the landing because he would never allow you to crash to the ground anyway.

megumi knows the second he starts noticing all the times you're not there, which means he will stop taking for granted the mornings when you utter soft greetings or show up with an extra coffee for him. he knows when the fact that you have his order memorized feels special enough to make him want to investigate & find out what your order is, an entire afternoon spent racking his brain & asking himself if you enjoy milk or cream or nothing at all, exasperation forcing him to sternly interrogate mutual friends until a conclusion is reached at last. you will know megumi is in love when he stops hiding away from your touch, pretty blush coating his cheeks as the pads of your fingers explore his features, travel along the bridge of his nose or run through his strands. his love is strong, explodes in a chest that feels exceptionally hollow when you're not pressed against it at night. megumi thinks being in love is scary and something he may not be entirely built for and yet he welcomes the feeling bravely, never shying away from a challenge with himself.

it would take nobara some time to get accustomed to the idea of having fallen for you: she doesn't let people in easily and the fact that you have managed to reserve such a unique seat for the messy spectacle that is her life takes her breath away for quite some time. she knows she's in love as she rejects the idea right away, to protect herself and to protect you. what does she have to offer, really? why would you want to take whatever she has to give? still, nobara can't help but constantly bring the thought of you with her. she's shopping, busy paying for a cute sweater and oh, would you look at that? you'd love that shirt, so she gets it. she's at the movies with yuuji and a particularly disgusting scene comes up: he's in awe and, with a grimace, she knows you'd find that splatter mess cool too. so she has to snap a picture and send it, heart nearly bursting at the little "seen" that blinks at her just a few seconds after the message is sent. nobara's love is on her lips, as they tremble when she's at her most vulnerable, when they trace your jaw and explore your throat. you know she is in love way before she stops resisting it, way before she even realizes herself.

oh man satoru will know he's in love the literal second he feels the urge to talk to you. i know the man never shuts the fuck up but he'll want to really talk to you: he can't bear the thought of his reputation, fame, or whatever you want to call it, shaping the idea you have of him. he knows he's in love because he cares about what you actually think, he worries that his smart mouth has annoyed you beyond repair, for once he is desperate to sculpt his true identity himself and engrave it in your mind. you know satoru is in love when he speaks of what he doesn't mention to anyone else: his walls are not particularly high but he calls the shots on who gets to climb over them and he wants to welcome you on the true side of his persona so badly it keeps him awake at night. satoru's love lives in his hands, pale, lithe fingers that always have to be on you somehow. he touches you to make sure you're listening, to check if you're actually in his kitchen putting breakfast together. he touches you to memorize the spaces between your ribs, to wonder if between all the muscular layers and the neurovascular bundle there is room for him to take root in the body of the very first person he truly wants to stay alive for.

suguru is already all too familiar with love and its many facets: affection, devotion, loyalty, obedience. he's received a great deal of what he recognizes as love but hasn't really ever been in the position of reciprocating the feeling in its most raw, helpless form. yet, that is exactly what you reduce him to. he'll know he's in love when all he wants is truly, actually listen to you. learn all there is to learn, explore all there is to discover. you know suguru is in love when he stares at you so intently as you speak, not even interrupting the string of sentences to warn you about the tea he has prepared going cold, his own cup turned icy long ago. you know suguru is in love because he makes no secret of how avidly he craves your presence in his life, of the way for the very first time he prays it doesn't come with any deal breakers: is it okay that he has two young daughters? will the blood on his hands scare you off? the feeling of being in love conquers his entire being, selfish tenderness blossoming in his lungs, flowing relentlessly in blood vessels and vertebral arteries. you take over. you soothe his mind. you're all he feels, you're everything he'll ever want to have. tell him, tell him, tell him and then tell him some more: he'll be there to take you in every chance he gets.

to me shoko's approach to love is very analytical, she doesn't want to make a big deal out of it. she'll know she's in love because you prompt all the usual reactions: racing heart and occasional sweaty palms, happiness, the so-called butterflies in her tummy. but unfortunately she also knows the scientific details about what's really going on, which makes everything far less romantic. noradrenaline, dopamine, phenylethylamine. love isn't but a fairly complex chemical reaction, the feeling given by attraction doesn't differ much from what stems from indulging in a couple bottles of wine. and yet alcohol doesn't smile the way you do, the thought of it doesn't make her stop in the middle of a medical examination and it certainly doesn't make her want to go out of her way to change. shoko will know she's in love as the feeling plants itself in her altered brain chemistry and convinces her that her personality should follow suit. because you'd never want someone who seems so distant, always calm and rational and so... boring. right? you'll know shoko is in love because she makes the effort and she'll know you're the right match the moment you murmur that you'd never want her to change, to be anything but the powerful, familiar grounding force that makes her so graciously human.

nanami writes more when he's in love. he's always been a reader, never has enough time to explore all the books he keeps adding to his never ending list really, but he's also always been a writer: short stories, haikus, poems, single sentences that are nothing but timid attempts at encapsulating days, moments, feelings, nights spent thinking or reminiscing. you start to become part of those stories, of those messily scribbled poems and thoughts. this will sound very cheesy but i'm confident nanami's love settles over his heart like a warm blanket. he knows he's in love when everything he reads, writes, does, leads back to you. what good are his cooking skills if he can't make you your favorite dinner? why should he buy that book he's been waiting forever to start, if there's this other novel you can't stop excitedly telling him about? did his writings ever hold any value before he could go through the pages of one of his leather bound notebooks, you comfortably settled in his arms, back pressed to his chest on the couch he only bought because you jokingly said it could accommodate you both? you know he's in love because softness settles in the corners of his eyes whenever you utter his name, an elegant fountain pen frozen mid air at the sound of your voice, the simple word kento suddenly earning a whole new meaning, always pronounced with an inflection so special it's now more than just his name.

yuuta feels a lot and he feels it deeply: fear, courage, affection. his feelings clutch his stomach and make him feel as if his insides are being squeezed. he doesn't appreciate newness, he's perfectly content with the people who are part of his life and a routine that doesn't make him wonder what the new day will bring. but then you happen and the boy who thought he knew everything is left to learn something new about himself: how he navigates a love that is real, pulsing with life, threatening to overturn his carefully built balance. he welcomes it tentatively, willing to learn, accepting the chance that he might have to confront it. but love doesn't turn out to be a challenge for him. yuuta knows he's in love because it's the first thing that feels easy in his life, to love you is the one thing that comes naturally. you know he's in love because he doesn't attempt to hide it and, hell, he doesn't even care if love makes him weird. he wants you there always, wants to ask about your day and hopes you'll also going to be interested in his. yuuta wants to pose silly questions because you're the first real person he needs to learn everything about. have you ever slow danced? how often do you experience food poisoning? what's your favorite song to sing in the shower? it's okay if you don't love him back too (as if lmfao), you have already given him everything by allowing him to find out that he can feel this way.

as a heavily stubborn & independent person, maki would understand right away that you're dangerous. a threat, even. she'd interally panic about it lol too bad you're equally strong-willed and determined to break through that standoffish facade. you succeed earlier than expected but maki won't let you know until months later, the first christmas holidays spent together, yuuta's house warming party the perfect excuse to indulge in a little too much mulled wine. you find out that maki's love is all in her voice, sincere affection vibrates along the entire story of your first encounter recounted to a table filled with your mutual friends in great, borderline obsessive detail. she remembers your hair, the outfit you were wearing, that cute tote bag filled with groceries. her voice is warm and tender when no one else can hear it, on the frosty mornings she orders to forget about cooking breakfast to keep you in bed a few minutes more, in secret moments she gets to hold you close and murmur sweet nothings in the curve of your neck, pauses between words and stifled giggles sounding suspiciously similar to i love you, i love you, i love you.

inumaki's love lives in his throat, torments him day and night because there's nothing he would rather speak of. you, you, you. he was always worried he'd fail to express how he truly feels but you happen to get it just right. not just because he makes significant exceptions for you (sorry but the man will speak and his dumbass sense of humor will cause a sore throat endless times) (yes he has used his cursed technique to ask you to stand still while in compromising positions or to give him a kiss after a stupid argument -> you'll do so and then smack his arm as he sticks his tongue out) but most importantly because the limited communication inumaki has been used to ever since forever also forced him to learn how to get the message across differently. and so you know he's in love because he makes sure you have your cup of tea ready in the morning, because he texts you pictures of stray cats or memes he doesn't really understand with a demanding '???' underneath them. you know inumaki is in love because his friends seem to know a whole lot about you and it's only the first time you're meeting most of them. he knows he's in love when you fall asleep next to him and his pointer finger delicately traces the echo of those three words along your spine over and over and over again.

[veltana]

Stranded - 2

✦ Pairing: Bucky Barnes/Fem!Reader

✦ Word count: ~2,3 k

✦ Rating: Mature

✦ Warnings/tags: Grumpy mountain man!Bucky, don't ask me about US geography just go with it, eventual relationship/romance/smut.

✦ Summary: You leave the cabin to escape Bucky's attitude, braving the cold, but it ends up being more than you bargained for.

✦ Note: For chapter 2, you guys voted for protective!Bucky! Next poll will be up tomorrow!

Stranded is an interactive story were you the reader gets to vote on what happens in the next chapter. You're also welcome to send in suggestions on what you want to happen in future parts! Everything is tagged with #stranded series. Please take a moment to reblog this fic if you liked it! Comments and asks are always welcome ❤️

Series Masterlist

Masterlist | AO3

The gentle crackling of the wood stove should be soothing. How many times had you dreamed of escaping to a place just like this? And yet, it feels more like the relentless ticking of a clock, counting down. Never in your life have you felt so unwelcome in a place you'd been invited into.

You can hear Bucky in his room not far away, the floor creaking as he walks around, then the springs from his mattress whining as he lays down.

If your clothes dry quickly maybe you can just leave. It would probably be better to sleep in your car and freeze to death than endure spending any more time with Bucky.

The isolation feels understandable to you now. He clearly hates people. But the thing you can't wrap your head around is why he would invite you in and then be disgusted by your company. It's confusing, to say the least.

You busy yourself by making the bed. After you're done you check your clothes but they're still wet. With a sigh, you lay down and pull the covers over you. You can rest your eyes for a few minutes and then maybe the clothes will be dry enough for you to leave.

You wake abruptly to the sound of howling wind and sit up. It's dark outside the windows and quiet from the wood stove. Checking your phone, you see that a couple of hours have passed. Your clothes are probably okay now, but before you can muster the energy to leave the bed, sleep pulls you under once more.

The next time you wake it's from the sound of a door opening. You lay still, listening to Bucky move around the small room, put more logs into the stove, and then go to the kitchen. "Want some coffee?" he asks, his voice cutting through the quiet. You have no idea how he knew you were awake. "Sure," you reply, doing your best to ignore the warmth that blooms in your chest at the sound of his still-sleepy tone. Despite being an asshole, Bucky is very handsome.

As the old machine starts to gurgle and sputter, you get up and look out the window. It's still windy but no more snow than what was already on the ground yesterday, which is a relief. You wouldn't want to be snowed in with the world's biggest grump. On the other hand, people always say hate sex is good. Then you mentally slap yourself for even going there. Bucky would probably agree to touch you if you were dying. Maybe.

As you turn back around you're greeted with the sight of Bucky in the middle of the room with a big block of a phone pressed to his ear. His jeans are tight over his thighs and his henley snug over his shoulders. The scowl seems to be a permanent fixture on his face.

“It's Bucky,” he says into the phone. “Yeah, no I'm fine, do you have a truck available to pick up a stranded car down by the big road?”

The person on the other end chats away and Bucky starts pacing the room.

“No it's not for me, I said I'm fine.” The sigh that comes out of him feels like it comes from his soul. “It's for a… a friend, you could say.” He glances over at you and you shrug. Better to be called a friend than an intruder.

“Hal, I don't have time for this. Do you have a truck available or not?” You watch as his shoulders sag in defeat and you know the answer without him needing to state it. He says a short goodbye before looking over at you.

“Let me guess, no one is available to get my car?” “Not for a few days, it's a small mechanic shop and they're backed up at the moment.”

You don't dare to joke about Bucky being stuck with you for a few more days. Instead, you quickly gather your now-dry clothes and head to the bathroom to change. Hesitantly, you get rid of the warm, oversized hoodie. You fold them and put them on the counter. He's probably gonna burn them once you've left but you don't need to know that.

The cabin smells like coffee and you make yourself a cup that you sip on while tidying up the bed. Bucky hasn't offered any breakfast and you're not gonna ask. The coffee will last you to the car and you have snacks there. He sits by the table with a book and his cup, not acknowledging you.

After you've folded all the linen, you drain your cup, use the bathroom one more time since you're not sure when you'll be able to again, and then start putting on your jacket.

“Where are you going?” Bucky asks, and you look over at him. His scowl is more concerned this time, but it's not enough to change your decision. “To my car.” Bucky glances out the window. “The wind is strong.” You shrug. “I need to get out of here,” you simply say. No need to point out that he’s a terrible host. He answers with a hum.

You're about to thank him for taking you in and giving you food and clothes, but he's absorbed in his book again. So you pull your hood up and head out.

***

Yesterday, you hoped to reach your destination before dark. Now you would rather walk anywhere in the pitch black if the wind would just calm down. Despite your thick jacket and winter boots, you're freezing, but at least you made it to your car.

It looks intact and you get in to get away from the wind. Despite knowing nothing will happen you try the ignition again but the car is still dead. All the way there you fantasized about it magically turning on and you driving out of there, warm and towards a place you'd be welcome.

With numb fingers, you unlock your phone but there is still no signal. Yesterday you decided that walking towards town wasn’t an option, but now it’s the only one you have. And if the opportunity presents itself you’ll be brave and stick out your thumb.

As you stuff more things into your backpack you wonder if this is one of the times where your stubbornness is getting the better of you. Then again, you are socially intelligent enough to know when you're not wanted. You're not sure why your thoughts keep returning to Bucky since you’ve known him for less than 24 hours. And known is to word it strongly. Barely interacted with is more like it.

You close the trunk of your car with a bang and start walking. Maybe the annoyance at yourself will keep you warm because the wind has not gotten any warmer. The road is as deserted as when you first got stranded. You try to keep a lookout for cars but you constantly have to put your head down as you walk forward.

Time passes but you're not sure how long you've walked or how far you've gotten. If you turn around and you can still see your car, you're gonna lay down and just die, because it feels like you've been walking for hours. The snacks you had in the car weren't nearly enough and you're starting to get hungry. What you wouldn't give for a taste of Bucky’s hot soup.

You feel like you're in a cartoon, thought bubbles with his name and face popping up above your head constantly and you want to wave them away. But you're so cold, tired, and hungry. The ground at the side of the road sure is looking inviting for a nap.

Despite better judgment, you stop. Your legs ache and feel like jelly. Tears burn your eyes because you're mad at yourself for being so stubborn. And mad at Bucky for being an asshole.

You have to keep walking. It's the only way. But you don't want to. You want to sit down.

The ground is cold and hard, but also somehow soft. Soft enough to want to lie down. You can just rest your eyes for a few minutes then you'll get back up and walk again.

A deep sigh escapes you as your body relaxes into the hard surface and suddenly you start to feel warm again.

***

It isn’t like Bucky cares where you are. At least that's what he tells himself. You said you were going to your car, he thought to get something. He could have driven you but he just wanted to start his day slow and have his coffee before running out.

Since you aren't back, he assumes you got the car going.

The sat phone goes off and startles him as he sits deep in thought.

“Hey, it's Hal! I managed to get a tow for your friend's car, I have it by the shop but it's gonna be a few days until we can get to it, is that alright?”

“She isn't with you?” Bucky asks and deep lines form between his eyebrows.

“Eh, no, the car was empty. Wait, did you have a—”

Whatever Hal is about to say gets cut off as Bucky hangs up. You weren't by the car, but you're still not back. So where are you?

A tinge of panic rises in Bucky's chest, a feeling he refuses to analyze more at this moment. He heads for the door, unsure what he's gonna do, but he needs to go out and look for you.

“I’m so fucking stupid,” he tells himself as he starts his car. “She's found someone to catch a ride with. She doesn't want you to look for her. She doesn't care about you, so why should you care about her?”

But still, he drives slowly so as not to miss anything.

***

The sound of a car door slamming shut starts you awake. Fuck, you missed an opportunity to hitch a ride, is all you can think, and you try to sit up, open your eyes, and speak but your body is slow and sluggish. Then you hear a familiar voice. “What the fuck are you doing?”

In the next moment, you feel yourself being lifted. With great effort you manage to open your eyes and see the one man you'd hoped never to run into again. He places you in his truck, buckling you into the seat, before rounding it and getting in, not saying a word before turning on the empty road and heading back the way you came.

“No,” you press out hoarsely. “What were you doing?! Trying to walk to the nearest town?!” “Mmhm,” you answer and lean your head back. You're still tired and hungry, but the car is pleasantly warm. “How can you be so stupid? It's a two-hour drive!” You want to answer that you couldn't stay but all the energy has left your body so you just shrug.

It feels like you're back at the cabin in no time, as if you didn't make any headway on your walk at all.

Bucky reaches over to unbuckle you and carries you up to the cabin, putting you on the floor in front of the wood stove.

As he's putting more logs into the stove your head starts to spin, and a second later you’re lying on your side, having tipped over from the vertigo. “For fuck's sake!” Bucky growls. “Dizzy,” you manage to croak. “Just lay there until I've warmed up some soup,” he says and walks away. The heat from the fire makes sweat form on your brow, still bundled as you are in your thick jacket. You fumble to take it off, but your fingers won't cooperate. In record time, Bucky has a bowl of yesterday's soup on the floor next to you, and you've managed to get the zipper down a few inches.

With surprising care, far more than you expect, he gently helps you sit up and unzips your jacket, then assists with your boots as well. As he grabs your hand you can feel the stark difference between your cold fingers and his warm skin. No wonder you couldn't move the zipper.

After, he scooches in behind you so that his legs bracket your body, keeping you upright, before picking up the bowl and holding it in front of you. “I'm not feeding you, just be careful,” his grumpy voice says.

The spoon shakes as you pick it up, you lean forward at the same time to not spill anything. It's slow but it works. Feeling returns to your fingers, making them tingle and hurt. The food tastes amazing, but that's maybe because you're famished. It takes some time to finish the bowl, but once you do, you feel pleasantly full. There's a light, almost drunken sensation from how good you feel—warm, cared for, and nestled between the legs of a handsome man. All you have to do is overlook the minor detail that he happens to despise you. Why would he come and get you? You don't understand. Maybe he was headed somewhere else and happened to see you. But then again, why stop? You don’t mean anything to him.

“Why'd you stop?” you find yourself asking. The flames dance in front of you and you resist the urge to lean back into Bucky. There is no answer, just like you expect, and maybe that’s for the better.

Despite it still being early evening, you sigh and say, "I'm tired," as you push yourself up. Heading toward the couch, you sway on your feet, but Bucky is right behind you. It isn't until you're halfway there that you realize he's gently steering you toward his bedroom instead.

Too tired to question or analyze the situation, you head straight to bed. Your last thought is that you aren’t dying, but Bucky still touched you willingly.

[nisuna]

Need more yuuji smut!!

So hear me out-

bestfriend!yuuji finding your depressed ass in the park while it's raining and you're soaked. So he takes you home and take care of you and puts you to sleep in jis clothes.

Then wakes you up by eating you out and then .. you know.. the rest of the stuff

Holy shit am I in my angst era? 😭 Yuji is 100% my comfort character, so this was very nice to write. He's so boyfriend oml I love him so much<3 I don't even care if this does well or not. I really needed this, tysm for the idea!!<3

⚠️ If you or anyone you know struggles with their mental health or has thoughts like these, please look up your local s*uic*de prevention hotlines. Everybody deserves to get help, and everyone deserves to live. It might not always be as easy as in my little story, but please look after yourselves, I love you all so much and thank you all for all of the love and support🫶🏻 As someone who's been struggling with their mental health ever since their early teens I can say that I definitely can't speak for everyone on this matter, but maybe some will find comfort and familiarity in this

TW: angst, s*icid*l ideation, mentions of declining mental health, hurt and comfort, oral (f receiving), unprotected sex, cream pie, body worship, nipple play, body appreciation, mating press, confession, a lot of crying, this is so dear to my heart, supportive!bff!yuji

~2,8k words~

<3masterlist<3

--------mature themes ;strictly 18+ MDNI-----------

Everything has been fucked lately. Your job sucks, school isn't going great, your social life is almost nonexistent, your family is a mess and you just want some peace and calm. You've been home constantly, but you just can't stand it anymore, which is exactly why you went outside for some fresh air. And as if the universe was giving you the middle finger as well, it started raining. But you just couldn't be bothered anymore. Life sucks and your mental health is declining. So you don't even flinch at the rain hitting your lowered head. You don't care that your clothes are soaked at this point. You just sit there and take it. You've been sitting here for what feels like hours. There has been multiple nosy on lookers that passed by mumbling. Some of them showed concern, but some of them were threw disgusted looks at you and assumed you're some kind of junkie that's loitering around in their peaceful park. You couldn't care less, nobody was actually brave enough to approach you anyway, so you let them talk.

It's getting cold, but you can't bring yourself to move. You're soaked and it's getting dark, but you feel like you have nowhere to go. You're starting to feel numb, your hands and feet are cold and you almost can't feel them anymore. This is actually quite nice, you're neither sad nor mad, you feel empty, but it's not uncomfortable like it usually is. You feel calm, you're not worried. You think that freezing to d*ath might actually be a good way to go. It would be like falling asleep without having to ever wake up again. For the first time in weeks you felt yourself smile. You've made up your mind, nobody will miss you anyway so why bother. But as you were about to lie down, you heard a familiar voice screaming your name.

"What the hell-", you thought to yourself as you sat back up and looked around. You didn't have to wait long before seeing a familiar figure run towards you.

"Y/N!!! Where are-? Oh my god there you are. I looked everywhere for you. What are you doing?", he reached out to grab your shoulders, only for you to flinch away.

"Yuji, what are you doing here?"

"Well, you weren't picking up my calls and I got worried." When you didn't give him an answer, he continued, "Are you alright? Whoa you're soaked and my god you're ice cold c'mon let's get you home. I don't want you to get sick.", he grabbed your hand, trying to get you off that bench. But you didn't budge.

"Y/N? What's wrong c'mon let's go-"

"No, I'm fine, really. Just leave me be."

"What are you even saying? How could I? You are in no condition to be left alone. It's freezing and you're soaked c'mon let's go home-"

"JUST LEAVE ME ALONE GODDAMN IT!", you screamed and felt tears leave your eyes. Shit. When you reached up to wipe away at your eyes, Yuji stopped you and wiped your tears with his sleeve instead.

"Y/N I don't know what's going on, but please let me help.", he knelt down, squeezing your trembling hands and giving you a warm smile.

"Why do you care so much?", that came out way too wobbly for your liking.

"Why do I care? Y/N, you're my best friend of course I care. How could I not? Look at you."

You were at a loss of words, so he continued. "Is it okay if I touch you more?" Nod. As soon as you gave him the okay he pulled you into a tight hug. It took you a bit to relax, but you eventually gave in and let your emotions run wild. You were shaking, crying loudly in his embrace. All the built-up tension of the past weeks came flooding out, but he was there to catch you. He held you close as you let go. He didn't say a word until you calmed down a bit.

He pulled away to take a look at your puffy face. "Let's go over to mine, hm? What do you say?"

"Fuck it.", you thought as you nodded and got up.

"Want me to carry you?"

"No, that's embarassing. I can walk alright.", you huffed.

"Don't worry, it's late. Nobody will see."

"Okay."

After he wrapped you up in his jacket, you got on his back and let him carry you to his apartment. He's so warm and smells really good. You subconsciously nuzzled your face closer to him. Falling asleep like this would be way nicer than alone. You thought of that as you closed your eyes and hugged him tighter.

Luckily, he only lived a couple blocks away from the park. He was gentle when he set you down as soon as you arrived.

"Thanks."

"Don't mention it.", there it was again, his sweet smile. "You should go take a bath before you get sick. I'll lend you some of my clothes." Nod.

------

You felt like a new human being after the warm bath. His clothes were also warm and smelled like him. It was oddly comforting. Has he always smelled this good? Your thoughts were interrupted by a soft voice.

"Oh wow, you look better already.", he grinned.

"Yeah", you cracked a smile back at him, "I do feel a lot better. Thanks a lot."

"Of course! Now, what do you want to eat, you must be starving? How long were you out there anyway?"

"All day actually...", you confessed.

His shocked expression made you giggle as he pushed you into his kitchen.

After a good meal he said you could go sleep in his bed. He'd sleep on the couch tonight. But you stopped him. "I don't want to be alone. Can you sleep with me tonight."

"Sure, I thought you needed some space and didn't want to make you uncomfortable."

"Can we cuddle too?"

"We can do whatever you need."

That's how you found yourself back in his arms for the nth time today. The atmosphere was calm, as you were exchanging occasional remarks while watching something. You don't know what overcame you, but you just felt so safe and taken care of that you leaned in for a kiss. However, you quickly pulled away when you felt him stiffen up and not kiss you back.

"Oh, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have done that. God, I'm so stupid. You probably hated that. Shit, please don't hate me-"

"No, please calm down, it's alright. It's not that I don't like this. It's just..."

"Just what?"

"You're in a very fragile state right now. I don't want you to do something you might regret."

"But I'm sure, I really want this-"

"Sleep it over. Just one night and if you still feel like it tomorrow I'm down. I'm here for you. We can cuddle all you want, though. I just don't want to take advantage of you."

You shot him your biggest pity pout and when that didn't work you gave in. "Alright, alright, I guessss.", you huffed and fell into his embrace. Both of you didn't talk much after that, there was a bit of tension, but you didn't act on it. When you finally drifted off to sleep it was enveloped in his warmth and smell.

You haven't slept this well in a long time. And you definitely haven't been woken up this nicely in a long time, either.

After such a good night's sleep you didn't expect to wake up to your best friend between your thighs, lapping away at your pussy.

"Hi, good morning", he rasped, morning voice heavy. "You just looked so cute wiggling around in my arms and when I checked you were already so wet down there. Sorry, I couldn't resist.", he said while softly kissing up your thigh.

"It's alright, let me wake up first, though ah-", you couldn't finish your sentence, because your head snapped back with a moan, as he dove back between your legs.

"Sorry, but I need this just as bad as you do. You taste so good. God, I've been missing out on this this whole time? Just lay back and let me take care of you."

You couldn't say no. Not that you were able to say anything at all with his skillful tongue and fingers working your cunt open. He made you a whimpering and sensitive mess in a matter of a few seconds.

"Shit, how are you so good?", you let out a drawn-out moan, but didn't get an answer from him. His actions spoke instead of him, as he had you cumming on his tongue soon after. Once he licked you clean he slotted his body between your legs and kissed you nice and deep.

"Mmh", you moaned against his lips, tasting yourself on his tongue.

"Tastes good, right?", he grinned.

"Shut up", you playfully hit his chest, grinnig right back at him.

"Alright, my turn.", you smiled, trying to get him to lie down only to be pushed back, as he got on top of you again.

"Nope."

"Hey! Not fair, I wanna taste you, too.", you pouted at him.

"Maybe next time. Today's all about you, I don't want you to lift a single finger. As I said, lay back and let me take care of you."

That was an offer you definitely couldn't refuse. So you gave him a nod and waited for his next move. His next move was a very welcome one, as he finally rid him himself of his shirt. You always knew he was well built from years in the gym and other sports. But seeing him like that up close made you gush. His front was mouth watering, and his arms were to die for. He was huge. You would've rubbed your legs together to ease your pain if he wasn't keeping your legs open with his body between them. You didn't even notice you were staring until he spoke up.

"You're practically drooling."

"Fuck, sorry.", you shrieked looking away.

"Don't sweat it. Oogle me all you want, I dig it.", he smiled, pulling your face back in his direction.

"Can I touch you?"

"What kind of question is that? Go for it!"

His skin's so soft, but the ripples of his abs and chest are brick hard. He let you explore his body before grabbing your hand and giving it a gentle kiss.

"My turn.", he whispered against your fingers before pulling your shirt up and exposing your tits. Your nipples were already hard from all of the stimulation earlier.

"Fuck, they're so pretty.", he whispered, grabbing one in each hand and giving them a hard squeeze.

"Shit.", you moaned, back arching off the bed and pussy rubbing against his hard cock. To make matters worse, he leaned down, licking a thick stripe up your neck and pinching your aching nipples between his fingers.

"Off. Now.", he demanded, already helping you pull the shirt over your head. You were finally fully exposed and he ate it right up. He leaned back down, taking one of your nipples in his mouth and massaging your other breast. He made sure to pay equal attention to both. It felt really good, but you were getting impatient, already grinding against his hard crotch.

"Yuuji~~", you moaned at a particularly hard suck. "Don't tease. Pleasee, I need you.", you whined.

"Shit, sorry I got distracted. Wait here, I'm gonna go get the condoms."

Before he could leave you, you stopped him.

"No, wait, please don't. I want to feel you.", you said, already digging your nails in his arms at the mere thought of doing it raw.

"Are you sure?"

"Positive.", you smiled reassuringly.

"Fuck, alright. Got it.", he swore and rid himself of his boxers.

Once again you were staring. He was bigger than you thought. You definitely couldn't wait any longer. You needed him inside of you immediately.

He didn't make you wait long before he started to slowly bottom out. Your moans grew embarassingly louder with each inch that filled you up.

"Shit, you're so tight. Please loosen up, you're gonna kill me."

"Sorry, it just feels so good.", you mewled back arching and pressing your soft tits against his hard chest. "Kiss me, please~~" He immediately obliged, crashing his mouth against yours. It was so raw and messy when your tongues kept mashing together, but it just felt so right.

"I'm gonna start moving now. I'm gonna fuck you so good."

You nodded and pleaded. Your wish was his command, so he finally picked up his pace. And god, was he good with his hips. With each thrust and shift of your legs, he kept hitting you deeper and deeper until you practically saw stars. It's so cliché, but you felt like you were in heaven.

Your nails kept grazing his broad back and shoulders, but you didn't want to hurt him, so you held back. As if he had read your mind, he leaned down and whispered against your ear.

"Do it. Mark me up, it doesn't hurt. Please don't hold back."

So you didn't hold back anymore. You let your emotions run wild, exploring his body with your hands. Shyness long forgotten, as you left long red streaks all over his back, occasionally pulling him down for a kiss.

The world stood still. You never noticed before, but he has always been there for you. He was the only person that you ever felt loved by. How had you never noticed. Even if you two never said it out loud before, you loved each other. It had to be love. You felt overwhealmed as his fingers slipped between your bodies and started rubbing thick circles in your sensitive clit. Your breath hitched as the words you kept secret for far too long came tumbling out.

"I love you, Yuji. I love you so much, thank you for always taking care of me. I only have you in my life. Thank you, thank you, thank you so much. Please never leave me, I need you."

If he was taken aback by your words, he didn't show it. He just pressed his lips against yours and kept rubbing and moving his hips until you came undone. And as you were moaning and arching your back, he finally answered.

"I love you, too. So, so much. I always have. I promise I will never leave. No matter what happens, I got you. Forever.", that's when the dams broke down and tears were spilling from your eyes. You just hugged him close and thanked him.

Not long after, he was reaching his limit as well. So he hoisted your legs over his shoulders and pounded away until he filled you up to the brim. All the while he was kissing your tears away and saying how good you were for him and how well you did.

When his hips finally came to a halt, he gently put your legs down and kissed you again. He was gentle when he pulled out and you winced as you felt his cum drip out of you and onto his sheets.

Immediately after, he pulled you close, hugging you like he was about to lose you and you were able to calm down a bit. But the bad thoughts came back as you whispered against his skin.

"Today was so stressful and you must've been worried sick. What if I have another breakdown. I don't want to be a burden. I don't want to stress you out. I don't want to break your heart if anything happens to me."

"Y/N, look at me.", he begged, hands on your cheeks.

You finally looked back up at him, tears stinging your eyes.

"You're not a burden.", he whispered, giving your forehead a gentle kiss. "I will protect you forever. For as long as I live, I will always be here to catch you. No matter what happens. You're not alone anymore. You don't have to endure everything silently and on your own. I promise, things will get better. I will be here each step of the way. I love you so much, so please don't leave me."

You wanted to believe him, you wanted to get better. Maybe you finally could with his help. It's a big gamble, but you're gonna bet all of your cards on this relationship. After a long pause, you gave him a silent nod and burried your face in his chest, all while he was gently patting and kissing your head.

Life and everyone else might be shit, but at least you got him now. He was worth living for.

--------

If you read this far, thank you so much<3 I hope I can make some lighter and happier content soon, but I'm on a roll right now *sigh* Please stay healthy and look after yourselves, mwah

Hope to see you all very soon<3

[dlwritings]

November 6, 2024 | Rafe Cameron

masterlist found here

pairing - Rafe x reader word count - 1,827 warnings - political talk, anti-T*ump rhetoric A/N - Who would've thought the shit show state of our world would inspire me to write again. I know for a lot of us everything feels really broken right now, and I know it may seem silly to some, but for me, writing feels like healing, even if it's just something like this. So here you all are. Rafe probably votes red, but here's a world where he doesn't. Also, if you're a T*umper, go ahead and unfollow me. I can't have any of that in my life. I'm so serious.

summary - The results of the 2024 election hit you pretty hard, and you end up taking your rage out on Rafe. Turns out, Rafe's hopes for the future looked a lot like yours.

You and Rafe didn’t talk about politics. You knew better than to broach the topic with him, because you weren’t naive. One glance at him and anyone could guess how he voted.

But that didn’t mean you had to like it.

The two of you had been dating for about six months, and for the most part, it was smooth sailing. It was gossip fuel for most people on the island for a few weeks -you being a pogue and Rafe being … who he was- but like most drama in Kildaire, it didn’t stay at the forefront of people’s minds for long before another thing came and stole back everyone’s attention.

And the thing on everyone’s mind right now was the election. The election that had you donned in blue on your way to the polls, a huge smile on your face as you filled in the bubble that would make history. Hope filled you in a way you were sure it never had before.

Until the next day.

Waking up and opening social media to see the results had already come in was enough to break your spirit completely. How could this have happened? How could the country have failed so many people?

Then again, how had you been so naive to believe in the possibility of any other outcome?

You shut yourself off from the world for most of the day. You went to work and gave polite smiles and nods to your coworkers as needed, but you did your best to spend the majority of your time locked in your office, alone. You didn’t dare to open social media, knowing every MAGA post from the bigots of the Figure 8 would bring tears to your eyes.

It wasn’t until you were at home on your couch that you decided to brave Instagram. Before scrolling through your feed, you added a black screen with a simple blue heart to your story and wrote the words, When we fight, we win.

You thought it was harmless. A simple story that showed your feelings without being overly dramatic. The last thing you wanted to do was act irrational by doing something crazy like storming the capitol. Because that would just be insane.

Unfortunately, the people who followed you saw it as anything but harmless. They saw it as an opening to send you the most heinous, revolting messages you had ever read. Your notifications blew up within minutes, and some of them were so borderline terrifying that you locked your phone and threw it across the room, once again leaving you in a puddle of tears.

You heard your front door open, and you cursed to yourself. In all the chaos of the news, it escaped your mind that it was Wednesday, and Rafe always brought pizza to your apartment on Wednesdays. You had once mentioned in passing that you liked a pick-me-up halfway through a week, and Rafe took it upon himself to provide you with that. Normally, it was one of your favorite parts of the week. Today, Rafe was one of the last people you wanted to see.

“Babe!” he called out upon his entrance. “I got your favorite!”

You met him in the kitchen, and by one look at your face, Rafe’s own expression dropped. “What’s going on?”

You swallowed back the lump in your throat. “I think you should go.”

“What?” he said, dropping the pizza on the counter and walking over to you. With each step he took toward you, you took one step back. He stopped quickly, a frown painted on his face. “What’s wrong, baby?”

The words made something snap inside you, and your fists clenched at your sides. “What’s wrong?” you repeated. “What’s wrong? How about fucking everything, Rafe! Everything’s wrong, and you not seeing that is part of the problem! You are part of the problem!”

Rafe was, in a word, flabbergasted. He ran through the past 24 hours, trying to think of something he had done wrong, but he was coming up short. “Okay, I’m-” He let out an exasperated laugh. “I’m trying to understand, but you’ve got to give me something more here. What did I do?”

“You-” You let out a huff of a breath and ended up speaking through gritted teeth. “You and your stupid fucking MAGA Kook friends voted for a convicted felon to run our country! You voted for a man who wants to throw away my rights. You voted for a man who has raped a multitude of women and brags about it!”

Rafe’s eyes were wide as he held his hands up and shook his head. “Hang on-”

“No, Rafe!” you shouted, pushing him back as he tried to get closer to you again. “For the entire time we’ve dated, I’ve danced around the talk of politics, because I knew better. I knew a rich ass white guy from the south would vote for another rich ass white guy to run our country, but I guess I naively thought it wouldn’t matter. That the poor guys would get a win for fucking once this time. For once I thought the good guys would win and that a white man would have to face the consequences of his actions. But you-” You laughed bitterly. “You of all people know that privileged ass white men never ever have to face the consequences of their actions.”

You were hitting him where it hurt, and you knew it, but you were hurt. You and every woman like you had been holding in years of pain and hurt, and for you and many others, today was the day it was all going to come out.

“Baby, if you just let me-”

“Let you?” you laughed incredulously. “You and your fellow MAGA guys have clearly shown me I don’t have to let you do anything anymore.”

“What does that mean?” he asked.

You fished your phone out of your pocket, unlocked it, and shoved it in his face to show him all of the nasty messages you were receiving. Things like, “Your body, my choice,” “whomp whomp go make me a sandwich,” and “Guess what? Men win again” had flooded your DMs, and while you didn’t know it, Rafe was clocking every username and making a very specific list in his head.

“So maybe you can understand why I’m angry, Rafe,” you said, taking the phone back out of his hand and putting it in your pocket again. “I thought I could cancel out your vote, but I guess I forgot that meant you could cancel mine.”

“Ba-”

“I want you to leave, Rafe.”

“But I didn’t-”

“Fucking, go, Rafe!” you shouted. “Let me be angry and let me be alone!”

With a clenched jaw, Rafe gave a short nod. “Okay,” he whispered. “Fine.” It looked like he wanted to say more, but he refrained, instead turning around and heading out the door, leaving you in a mess of tears.

The next day, you called off from work. Maybe it was dramatic, but you didn’t care. You knew if one person even looked at you in a way you didn’t like, you’d lose any composure you had, and you couldn’t afford to lose your job for yelling at your boss.

You had the full intention to stay in bed all day, but the relentless knock at your door around 10AM proved that to be impossible. You felt some sense of relief, knowing it at least wouldn’t be another political petitioner.

Instead, perhaps just as unfortunately, it was Rafe.

You let out a heavy sigh. “What do you want, Rafe?”

He held out his hand which had a coffee cup in it from your favorite shop. “I went to your work, but your boss said you were sick,” he said. “I bought you coffee.” You took it, but didn’t say anything -just looked at him with raised eyebrows, as if to say, Anything else? “Can we please talk?” he said.

“I don’t know what there is to say, Rafe,” you sighed. Still, you stepped aside and let him in, not wanting your neighbors to bear witness to whatever argument was about to ensue. “I know we’re different -I’ve always known that- but I don’t think I can handle being this kind of different anymore.” You plopped yourself onto the sofa, expecting Rafe to sit next to you. Instead, he crouched in front of you so he was just slightly looking up at you.

“Baby, I didn’t vote for him.”

Your lips parted slightly in shock, and you felt tears instantly pool in your eyes.

“What?” you whispered.

“Yeah, of course I didn’t vote for him,” he said. He reached up to turn around the hat he was wearing backwards to reveal a Harris-Walz cap, and you let out a noise that was a mix of a gasp and a little laugh. “I know I’ve fucked up before baby,” he said. “And in other elections, yeah, I usually vote red. But this-” He shook his head and squeezed your knees. “This is different. And I know that. And I’d be an absolute moron to think that tax cuts for me are more important than basic rights for you.”

You moved to kneel on the floor next to him and held his face in your hands before leaning forward to place a soft kiss to his lips. When you pulled back, you kept your forehead against his. “I was so mean to you yesterday,” you whispered. “I didn’t-”

“It wasn’t anything I didn’t deserve,” he said. “I know that I am living in a world that was pretty much tailor made for me. And I know I should be in fucking prison for all the shit I’ve done, and so should he. And I know that none of what I’m saying right now changes the bullshit I’ve done, but I figured I should at least use all this fucking privilege I have and try to help people who don’t have it. Because you-” He paused to press a kiss to your lips. “-have taught me so much about being a good person. And I’m not going to vote against that.”

“I wasn’t a good person yesterday,” you mumbled.

“You were reacting to an unfortunately historic event,” he said. “You had every right to lose it. And you can keep losing it, and I will be by your side for every minute of it, okay?”

You nodded and gave him a soft smile. “Okay.”

He smiled back and nodded. “Okay.”

You and Rafe decided to spend the rest of the day together, sometimes talking, sometimes just sitting in the quiet. When you suggested putting on a movie, Rafe agreed. He let you choose, no complaints, and watched as you searched for the Barbie movie. You cried at all the usual parts, sometimes a bit harder than normal, but Rafe understood.

It is literally impossible to be a woman.

----- ----- ----- -----

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[psychelis-new]

pick a pile: "I love you because..."

take a breath and choose the photo or number that calls you the most to read a love confession for you. it could be a friend, a colleague, someone you help/ed, a family member, your guides or ancestors, your higher self or your present/future partner/spouse. meditate to put yourself in a receiving mode and go check your one, dear soul. enjoy your Valentine's day: whether you feel lonely or not, whether you are in a relationship or not, know that you are deeply loved.

if you rather get a message from your present/future partner/spouse, check my instagram @/psychelis.new

don’t take the reading too seriously. only take what resonates with you and leave the rest. if you're not called by any pile, let this reading slid as it may not hold messages for you. if you're called by more than one pile, there may be messages in each of those piles. remember that is a general reading and some things may not resonate with you. energies can change and readings are based on present ones (as you read); you're always in charge of your life.

(photos found on unsplash)

- ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ -

1 2 3 4

- ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ -

pile 1

I love you of a quiet pure respectful love, because you're strong and brave and you taught me that struggles can be overcome and new goals can always be reached. You taught me a lot also about love and friendship: maybe you don't know, but I have been going through a very tough situation and finding you/having you near, listening to you, helped me so much. You were (and are) like a dream come true to me. You made me stronger, inspired me and helped me move on with a lot of confidence and hopefulness more, and I'll always be thankful to you for this. I am not sure you know about this, about my feelings, I always look at you from a distance and freeze in awe in front of your kindness and beautiful smile. I would like to approach you and thank you personally but I am not sure you would accept it from me. I am still afraid to be abandoned or to disappoint you but I am sure one day I will be able to change this also thanks to you. One day I will be bold enough and thank you properly. I am working to get ready for that day and have no more fear.

[more symbols/signs: fairytales, children, The Little Prince (the dialogue with the fox in particular), fox, star, comets; could be friend, sb in your same school/job place crushing on you, ex, -online- admirer, childhood friend/crush; I'm getting lot of school-related/young energy, could even be a student if you're a teacher or sth; it seems someone who isn't used to kindness and gentleness/support and bc of this you made them addicted to this side of yours]

song: fetish | selena gomez, gucci mane

- ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ -

pile 2

I love you because you guide me and give me peace. Your voice is like a tender sound calming my nerves, your words are warm and embracing me anytime I need love. You came up unexpectedly and brought the wind of change with you, a warm tender soft one that caresses me and plays with my hair making me smile of a peaceful smile. Something I could hardly experience before. I love you because you help me feel better and change/grow for the better. You've helped me cleansing from my toxic past and you made me see things from a different perspective. Like in a snap of fingers, everything went from chaos to calm, in my mind and in my heart. You always know what to say to bring me back on my feet, to balance me, and you guide me in every move I take. I am thankful for having you by my side, my true anchor and gentle loving sister soul. Never cease to speak to me, I love listening to your ideas and words, you always sing the most beautiful song in my ears, just for me to listen to.

[more symbols/signs: water, emotions, rain/rainy day, wind, sound, dreamcatcher, weather vane, bells, air signs; possible strong mental/5d connection; could be a soulmate (romantic or platonic), also a colleague or family member/ancestor or your partner's higher self]

song: every breath you take | denmark + winter

- ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ -

pile 3

I love you because amidst all of the chaos, there you were and still are. I love you cause you always wear a smile and try to keep your joy with you, and share it around. I love you cause of your sweet tender habit to dance and turn around everytime you're happy. I love you for all the beauty you bring with you, even if you cannot see it. I love your regal side and your cute side. I love all the different people you are, especially your curios self, never ceasing to learn more of what's around you (please keep yourself safe). I love how you can lose yourself daydreaming about love and what's next for you, but also how you are so easy to distract... Maybe you should focus more, yes, but who cares? I like to distract you too cause when you notice you always get so pouty and offended with me and that's so very cute. Please try to let go of the past, trust yourself. I know you hurt still, but better things will come and you know it too. Don't let the anxiety/worries take over you, stay confident and trust that all will be great. I will also help you make it so.

[more signs/symbols: crowds, -long time- friend/s, studying together, raincoat, jeans, flirting; feels a classmate or friend -maybe a group of friends-, possibly someone crushing on you; young energy but especially from you here so the person/people could be "older" for some of you]

song: golden hour | jvke

- ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ -

pile 4

I love you because that's what I was born for. I love you cause that's my duty, to care for you and protect you. But I also love you because you resemble me: you're determined, confident and you work for your dreams. You don't let anything or anyone bring you down and even if you don't feel this way now, I know you have it inside of you. You just need to believe again in all that you really are, you just need to remember who you really are. Let me in, let me help you remember it all. Let me help you give you your power back. We can have it all again, together. Don't let the demons you have learned to live with, govern you: you're the one in charge of putting them back to their place. You're the one able to give yourself all that you want, love included. Take care of you, give yourself breaks and get ready: a lot is in store for us. I'm sorry you have/had to wait so much. Please forgive me.

[more symbols/signs: vinyl, music, nostalgia, dancing, gala, Europe, dresses, castle, deep heart connection; possible past life connection (around 1700-1800 centuries; kingdoms); power couple; possible ex/situationship that now is on hold or future partner/spouse, guides/ancestors/departed pet or higher self; in all honesty the first message I got is the last line I wrote. Much more than the reasons they love you for, they wanted you to know how much they long for you now]

song: in the name of love | bebe rexha, martin garrix

[sp1d3rzz]

WARNING !! : age-gap (23 and 51), fingering, pet names, cursing, smut ofc lolz, cum eating, jiraiya being a warning himself. lemme know if i missed anything!

Summary : jiraiya has never had any issues when it comes to women (that he likes to think of), until he meets you. is it possible to get someone as stubborn as you into bed with him?

A/N : eeeee!!! i'm so happy to finally write for my love jiraiya! we want a part 2?? (๑>◡<๑)

womanizer!jiraiya who stops at a random town during his long and exhausting journey to finally take a break. he deserves a good nights rest, savory food, and of course finding a pretty prize to take back to his hotel room and please.

womanizer!jiraiya who the very next day, comes across you admiring the flowers at a small nextdoor floral shop. even from afar he can make out the features of your face that make you an absolutely breathtaking sight.

womanizer!jiraiya who decides to be brave and approach you, expecting nothing less than what he usually receives. and when he finally gets close enough to smell your perfume (which only makes him want you more once he gets whiff), he's stuttering back on his words from how nervous you seem to make him with just your looks alone. "what brings a lovely lady like you around here?"

womanizer!jiraiya who is beyond shocked when you only shoot him a mean glare and walk away without so much as a second glance. and don't get him wrong, he hates to see you go, but damn does he love to watch you walk away.

womanizer!jiraiya who finds that women normally come to him like bees drawn to honey. he's one of the legendary sannin after all, a heroic man like him usually suits well with the ladies. so how come a gorgeous woman such as yourself seem to find no attraction to him?

womanizer!jiraiya who wonders if you just like the chasing game. that's fine— he doesn't mind playing the part if it's what gets you going.

womanizer!jiraiya who unintentionally happens to appear wherever shop you look around at next, offering to pay for anything you planned on getting all in agreement you gave him one chance. and if not that, at the very least a conversation.

womanizer!jiraiya who soon begins to realize that perhaps you just don't like him. he'd done nothing but show you kindness, consideration, and respect. so why did you insist on giving him zero effort in return for his?

womanizer!jiraiya who finally accepts his fate and heads back to his hotel room, dumped— but still looking forward to one last night of rest before he's back on the road by morning.

womanizer!jiraiya who on his walk there hears small commotion coming from a nearby alleyway that catches his attention. it isn't until he peaks around the corner to find you surrounded by a couple of punks does he interfere.

womanizer!jiraiya who interrupts their harassment with a couple of basic jutsu that sends low life's like them running in less than 5 minutes. although the pale look on your face is one he'd never thought he'd see, considering how unbothered you seemed to be earlier.

womanizer!jiraiya who checks on you with a warm smile, despite you turning him down harshly the whole day. "don't even worry about it, sweetheart!" he promises, "you sure you're alright?"

womanizer!jiraiya who watches as you bow out of thanks with your hands tucked tightly at your sides, face flushed with embarrassment as you assure him you were okay. and disgustingly enough, he can't help but wonder how you'd look bent over a desk with your legs spread wide, begging for him to fill you.

womanizer!jiraiya who is just about to turn around and leave before you're pulling him back by his wrist. "let me repay you, mister– uh.." you stumble for his name, biting your bottom lip as if internally cursing yourself for how stupid you may appear by now.

womanizer!jiraiya who only smirks at your struggle, finding this new side of you rather intriguing. "jiraiya, kiddo. you can call me jiraiya." and when you do, he curses himself for how good it sounds coming from those pretty lips of yours.

womanizer!jiraiya who can hardly contain his excitement when you ask him to take you back to wherever he's staying so you can uphold your offer. no matter how cool he attempts to play it off as, his entire body gets hot at the imagination of what might happen.

womanizer!jiraiya who you shortly end up making out with in his room like theres no tomorrow. tongues exploring each others mouth sloppily, though neither of you complain when the feeling is euphoric.

womanizer!jiraiya who has his lips and body glued to yours as he lays you onto the bed, mattress dipping from the sudden weight. when he separates his mouth from yours and pulls back, the sight of you perfectly spread out for him has his cock aching.

womanizer!jiraiya who doesn't waste any time pulling your panties down and plunging a thick finger into your soaked cunt. he watches as you throw your head back in pleasure, lips parting open to release a sharp gasp. "so you really are into me, huh? surely you're wet enough to take a little more."

womanizer!jiraiya who stands by his word, adding in another finger to stretch your walls out. you moan his name aloud when he pumps his digits mercilessly. he could see with your already fucked-out face, that you'd reach your orgasm sooner than expected.

womanizer!jiraiya who takes your breathless whimpers as a sign and leans down to kiss you roughly, fingers never halting.

womanizer!jiraiya who has you caged beneath him on top of the bed, large chest rising and falling in sync with yours. the sound of your pussy squelching with each push is enough to send him over the rails as well.

womanizer!jiraiya who curls his fingers just in time, eyes opening to watch the beautiful scrunched-up face you make reaching your high. "there we go— shit, baby." he grunts, slowing down his pace. "good fucking girl."

womanizer!jiraiya who pulls his fingers out with your cum dripping off, quickly pushing them into his mouth to taste you. he closes his eyes and moans at how surprisingly sweet you are, not wasting a single drop as he cleans off your juices.

womanizer!jiraiya who think it's only fair if you see how delicious you are for yourself. pulling his fingers out of his mouth with a small "pop!", he grins before looking at you. "you wanna taste of both of us? c'mon, open up for me, pretty."

womanizer!jiraiya who presses his wet fingers to the plush of your lips, slowly pushing through as your warm mouth welcomes him happily. he analyzes how your glossy eyes look at him dazed, accepting him to fully control your body.

womanizer!jiraiya who groans and clenches his jaw when your tongue roams his two digits, watching with fascination as you lick up all that remains.

womanizer!jiraiya who feels his cock twitch with need in his pants, begging for any sort of friction. he grabs your hand and guides it onto his bulge, letting you fully grasp what he has in store for you. "you know what you do to me, kid?" his gaze meets with yours, and he smirks. "i'm dying to fuck you right now."

[loganwritesprobably]

Dealing With Grief

Notes: Insp by Unopened Windows by Set It Off

Tags/Warnings: Mihawk/M!Reader, family member death, discussions of grief following a loss, implied that deceased person had dementia/alzheimer's, hurt/comfort

It never got any easier, or any less, the ache that came from losing someone you love. Loss is incomparable, no matter how much you believe you are hurting more than others, you cannot truly perceive that difference. What you do know for sure, is the loss on your mind hurts more than any of the others. Losing someone you love hurts, but watching as they slowly lose themselves and being forced to grieve all the while, as they forget you and all those they hold dear, robbing you of a true chance of ever saying goodbye - you can't tell that they're gone until it's too late and then there's a husk left behind wearing their face.

You sat before the grave of your grandfather, letting your thoughts roam freely as you pulled absently at the grass beneath you, something to do as tears rolled silently down your face. Those who saw you often claimed that time would heal the hurt you were feeling, yet you'd been coming for years and it had her to leave you. Healed, perhaps, but gone? It never would be. You were often left pondering what could've been and what you had missed - if only he'd been able to see you now.

When he'd been alive, your grandfather had urged you to be happy, whatever that looked like for you. Though, he particularly wanted you to find a partner that you could love and would wholly love you in return, someone you could rely on and call your life partner. If only he could see you now and find out that you'd done just that.

Dracule Mihawk perhaps wasn't the most likely suspect for that, and yet he was perfect for you. Just wonderful. He too had lost much in his life and so whenever you felt melancholy, he would join you in your grief rather than rushing it away, he'd lay beside you until both of you were ready to brave what regular life is supposed to look like, and then you'd both manage to do it with a small smile.

"He's perfect." You whispered to your grandfather's grave, watery smile gracing your features, eyes stinging from tears and your cheeks no doubt pink from the same.

Since he'd died, you hadn't been able to return to your home island. Most other family members had left and so there was no reason for you to go back. Every corner you rounded, every building you entered, every person you spoke to, they all held memories you couldn't face anymore, ones you weren't strong enough to remember without being left in the lurches of grief all over again. You would look around and see not just was, but also what could've been, and end the night cursing the sky.

"There you are, dear." Mihawk said softly, stepping up behind you. He knelt down and carefully pulled you to his chest, gently scratching his blunt nails over the back of your neck to soothe you. "It's a pity you're crying, but you do look so handsome today." You couldn't help laughing, even as you continued to cry.

"I miss him." You whispered, as you often did, the tears thick and catching in your throat, choking the sound.

"I know. But do you know what else I know? I know that he would be incredibly proud to call you his grandson, and that he must hate seeing you like this. Present tense. Because I know he's up there, looking down at you." He always knew just what to say. Despite Mihawk never having met your grandfather, he'd learned plenty about the man from your stories, and having known him yourself you had a feeling your lover was right.

"Yeah. You're right. I just wish he were here, he'd have loved to see us get married." The ring on your finger shone on the orange light of the sunset.

"He will. We'll leave a front row seat open for him, and he can watch from there." He assured you, and your slowly dying tears started anew, now largely from love for your fiance, and how willing he was to accommodate you.

You'd be alright, some day. The wound of loss would scar over, and the ache would dull. You'd be able to look back fondly without choking up, and be free to reminisce and pass the memories of the man you'd loved so much to your own children. You'd be able to impart his lessons, and share his jokes, and see his face in theirs.

Today, you cried.

Tags: @cainnoable @claryeverlarkf @uselessboots @frillsinadress @categoryace

If you'd like to tip me and get exclusive ficlets, Kofi

[threepandas]

Your Biggest Fan: Part 3

When he first showed up, people scoffed. He wasn't the first to try and claim such a grand name, nor would he be the last. They mocked him. Made unknowing targets of themselves. Didn't realize just how SERIOUS the situation WAS.

They thought he was a joke.

Because, after all, how could ANYTHING related to the Quirkless be a threat? How could ANYTHING related to those they'd failed, dismissed, and abused ever come back to haunt them? What vengeance and anger could possibly fester there? Turning into something ugly. Something powerful and dangerous.

The Red Shoed Onryō was no joke.

He was every ugly buried sin crawled into the light. Vengeance where no justice would ever be found. The cruelty that returns cruelty's actions. The monster the that hunts and haunts the living.

And of course, like everything related to the Quirkless, the news buried him. Covered their eyes and ears, hoping he'd go away. Letting him run free.

Hero after hero, refusing to take the case. Because he's "not a REAL threat". As though his influence wasn't spreading. As though his power wasn't GROWING. Willfully BLIND! At every turn, it baffled and infuriated you. Did Onyrō have to STAB them first, for them to SEE?!

Worst of all? He was either kidnapping or KILLING Quirkless kids. The most vulnerable youth in this entire god forsaken, willfully blind, country! There were days when you loved your country. There WERE. It's one of the reasons you became a Hero! But some days? You wanted to BEAT THE BIGOT out of your countrymen.

Especially when, once again, you were looking down at... at tiny little red shoes.

God.

God, they were just a KID.

A little kid. Face to solemn. Eyes too old for such a young body. Parents who can't be bothered to even remember the last time they SAW their son. He was SIX. It burns you. Every child, dead or missing on this God forsaken case. It BURNS. Every SINGLE one of their neighbors saw the crimes here and did nothing. The teachers. Nothing. Their own parents! Nothing!

Another child failed.

Another set of tiny shoes collected. Because these BASTARDS don't deserve to keep them. And a cry in the nearest park.

Damn this so called Onryō. DAMN HIM! They were just kids! He... oh god, he was just a kid...

There's an awkward shuffling near your bench. Ah. Probably a kid. Smile, Gaurdian. You gotta remember to smile! They're kids. They don't understand, SHOULDN'T understand, that sometimes Heros lose...

C'mon. Be brave. Smile.

You raise your head. And... oh. Not a kid. They're all still playing, off on the distant play structures. It's the anxious, green, quirkless man. The one who was real scuffed up. He looks better. Nervous though.

"A..Are YOU okay?" He manages to choke out, before you can say anything.

You huff a laugh. Well, isn't THAT a turn of events? Guess he remembers you. Good to know you're making an impact, at least. And... maybe it's something about how he clearly so uncomfortable, yet braving through it to offer comfort. Maybe it's because he's the first person to ASK in... God, months? But you answer honestly.

No. No you're not.

You keep it vague, of course. Case file confidentiality and all that. But... the victims. Oh god, the victims. Quirkless kids. As though life wasn't shit for them ENOUGH. It makes you want to BREAK things. People.

He listens as you rage. Curse and weep. Mourn.

The list of names Onryō IS going to answer for. Even if you have to hunt him down alone. Drag him back by yourself. Because it's not ABOUT the fucking hair care commercials! It's about saving lives. And what's the damn POINT of it all, if it's not all in service of that?

...Honestly? Green guy is a good listener. Seems to hang off your every word. Really engaged. It's nice, after so long being dismissed and ignored at ever turn. So much so... that you do something you probably shouldn't. It's TECHNICALLY crossing a couple lines, professionally. And you WERE taught better.

But....

Well.......

Fuck it. You're kinda lonely, you know? Yeah, he's a fan. You "saved" him with some band-aids. But it's not like you REALLY saved him! That would be crossing a boundary, right? Right. This is... probably? Fine? Maybe you could get a friend out of it.

Hey. Green. Gimme your phone real quick.

You input your number. Send yourself his. There. Now you guys can chat. Don't go crazy okay? He promises. Looks super excited to have a friend. And... yeah. Yeah! You have a good feeling about this. Greenie's name is apparently "Izuku". And what you both need?

Is a friend.

[yestrnight]

how much do I have to pay for svarog sex 😊

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ DILF ROBOT FUCKERZ !

FROM: svarog / afab! reader

SUBJECT: the underground of belobog is a cruel, dark place where it's a competition of the fittest. sweet, little clara is lucky to have svarog as her guardian, but you're even luckier to be able to... heh, get to know him ;)

MESSAGE: nothing to pay but ur dignity babygurl 🥴

( uh me and my doujinshi writing ass at it again; reader is a SL— /svarog counterattack/; overstimulation; robot fucking… duh; svarog is treated as an oversized vibrator cuz that is what he is!!! )

you're not exactly sure when clara pulled you into her little family dynamic with svarog— the svarog, leader of the vagrants, protector of the underworld, and for the longest time, the barrier between upper and lower belobog. sure, you liked telling her the children's stories you've read from natasha's bookshelves, and accompanying her around as her personal bodyguard while she looked through scraps to find supplies for the vagrants.

but you feel like, even as clara tugs you by the sleeve, that stepping foot into the svarog's lair is a biiit too much.

your cold sweat and pale face as the large, rickety gates swing open for clara (and you) says all that needed to be said. your stiff body follows clara as she pulls you inside. "um, clara…" you start, your shaky voice betraying any kind of macho you try to summon. "i don't think this is a good idea… i'm from wildfire, you know? svarog and our relationship is a bit… y'know."

clara's a smart kid. of course she knows. but she looks up at you, as innocent and hopeful as she can be, and pleads with you. "it's okay!" she says. "i've told mr. svarog all about you before! in fact, he's the one who told me to invite you, just so he can properly thank you!"

"h-he did?!" is all you could yelp before she and her traffic light perkins whisked you away to their home.

a few moments later, you're face to face with the big bad robot himself, his lone red eye peering down at you seven foot above. you gulp, clenching onto clara's soft hand for support. "h-hello, sir svarog…" your voice cracks. "nice to meet you…?"

"my data says that meetings between parents and their children's educators are common between human life forms," his deep and rusty voicebank echoes throughout the room. "a parent-teacher conference, they call it."

you shrink further into your uniform. "um… i'm not really her teacher…" your voice is so small even you yourself can barely hear it.

"that is obvious," he states. "according to your data, you lack the qualifications for being a professional educator. nevertheless, you've taught clara a great many things. she is… happy, whenever she talks about you. i hope you continue to spend time with her."

"i told you!" clara leaps up with joy and clings to your arm. her smile is so great that it gives you a literal heartache as it squeezes from how cute she is. "mr. svarog likes you!"

you swear svarog's eye glints, and you double swear his gaze is directed at the red bandanna wrapped around your arm. you'd give him the staredown too, if you were brave enough, that is. after all, what kind of robot needed pants anyway?

that robot needed pants because he needed to hide the luggage he was packing underneath. because if he had that out in the open, you swear any of your cowardice would have evaporated and you'd climb that big hunk of metal like a tree just to get that branch inside of you.

AHEM! what you meant to say was… oh, whatever, no use saving the very little dignity you have left. 

the first time you drool over him is when he protects you from the cold. it was a wildfire expedition gone wrong and you underestimated a rogue robot, and the vagrant camp was so unfriendly without clara around. frostbite made you delirious, so any sort of fear vanished when you yelled through the rusty gates for some sort of savior.

only when the world begins to go dark do you feel a giant metal hand cup your back, and your feet swing in the air. when you finally come to, it's by the crackling fireplace. the world is still blurry when you sit up and see svarog’s hulking body looming over you. in other circumstances, you might have run away as soon as you can, but the near frostbite has made you delirious, and… well, svarog’s looking too sexy for a piece of scrap metal.

“ngh, ah ♡~” svarog’s one metal hand is large enough to encompass your whole lower body. he cups it as gently as a warforged robot can, and he bullies your throbbing clit with his finger while you’re left shaking under him. his red eye glints as he observes your expressions– drooling and eyes rolled back, a happy grin on your face as you rub back against his finger. “m– more~ more please!” his cupped hand bounces you up and down, and you squeal in delight as it heightens the stimulations even further. 

“y– you can vibrate, right?” you gasp when svarog rubs your clit juuust right, and you pleadingly look up at him with tears in your eyes. “th– that makes sense… robots all– ngh! r-right there, please– vibrate, don’t they? jus’ comes with the machines ‘n all that, hehe~”

you’re quite the talkative one, aren’t you? svarog isn’t exactly used to this, given that all the architects and elites he served in the past were so quiet and distant while they used him. “what exactly are you insinuating, [your name]?”

“oh, come on!” you pout frustratedly. “v-vibrate for me, will ya? i need more! this isn’t cutting it for me anymore– a-aaH ♡ yes yesyesyesyesyes! right there, oh my gosh, right there!!”

his data tells him that you’re at the height of ecstasy as he watches you arch your back and kick your feet. your fucked out laughs as you continue to beg for more is the sign that tells him that he’s doing a good job, and putting one and one together, he increases the vibration setting and you devolve into orgasmic screams.

“ah ♡ ah ♡! ahhh ♡♡ wh-what the fuck, svaroggg!!! ♡” the vibration on your poor, swollen clit is too much as he continues to rock you up and down while pressing the vibrating finger down. “i– i never told you to– ahh ♡– increase ittttt!”

“is this not necessary?” svarog questions. he’s so used to cold and unflinching ‘clients’ that he’s not exactly sure what to do with a human as expressive and loud as you. “records tell me that further simulation will bring you to what humans call an ‘orgasm.’”

“i’m, nggh, i’ve already orgasmed, you idiot!” you sob as you flail your legs, squirming and kicking as if that will loosen his grasp on you. “oh, ooooh~ t-too much!”

ah. so this is an orgasm. while this does not fit the algorithmic standards for the measurement of beauty, svarog surmises that this is ‘beautiful’ to him. it’s his reward for a job well-done, as all worthy leaders give to their soldiers. “apologies, [your name], but i fear that my past experiences have not given me sufficient data on what constitutes an ‘orgasm.’ clara adores you very much, and i do not wish to strain you at the expense of her anxiety. so, if you would allow it—”

something pushes at the tip of your hole, and you widen your eyes when you look and discover that he’s slowly bullying his way into you. you grip his metal arms for safety and stare at him with wide eyes.

“if all goes according to plan, you should have nothing to worry about.” you don’t know how to feel comforted when he says it in that apathetic-sounding (yet super hot) voice of his. “human orifices can be trained to take in objects larger than them– i should have you sitting on my… cock, as they call it, at the end of the day.”