#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.

[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.

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"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.

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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.

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“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.”

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

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✌️

[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.

[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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@bibliophilewednesday

[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?

[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

[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.”

[sidekick-hero]

(steddie | explicit | 1.1k | tags: established relationship, sub!eddie, top!eddie, dom!steve, bottom!steve, porn with feelings, Good Boy Eddie | @steddielovemonth Love is liking the version of yourself you are with them the best by @tinytalkingtina | AO3)

Eddie has been called many things in his life. Some good, more bad.

He's been called a good friend, a herder of lost sheep, a dungeon master, a rock star, even a hero.

But he's also been called a pariah, a coward, a waste of space, a fuckup, trailer trash, a freak, a murderer, a monster.

But no one had ever called him a good boy. Not until Steve.

Ever since he was a little kid, Eddie had learned to fit in, to become whatever someone needed him to be.

When his ma got sick, he learned to be her sweet little boy, quiet and uncomplicated instead of loud and wild. To take up as little space as possible, one less thing for his mama to worry about.

After she died, Eddie learned to be self-reliant. An adult in a child's body, able to take care of himself because who else would. Whenever his father was around, he adopted the Munson charm, the easy smile and empty flattery. He learned how to hot-wire cars, pick locks, steal, lie.

In the process, he learned to hate himself and even more the path his father was trying to set him on.

It wasn't until he started living with his Uncle Wayne that he didn't know who to be, because his uncle never asked him to do anything but be himself. Which should have been a relief, but by then Eddie had almost forgotten who that was.

So he began to reinvent himself in ways that made sense to him.

A storyteller, like Tolkien, spinning tales through his campaigns and having his party hanging on his every word.

A rock star, like Osbourne, van Halen, or Hammett, who played his heart out and made himself heard through his music.

A rebel, like Bowie, who stood up for those who, like him, were on the fringes of society, being their shield and offering them a safe place and a community where they could be their wonderfully weird selves.

Those versions of him were all Eddie, but at the same time they weren't. Not all of him.

Not the soft parts, the sweet and sincere and quiet parts he thought he lost when his mom died. Being all that for her hadn't been enough, it hadn't saved her, so Eddie buried that part of himself with her and became someone else. Someone the world couldn't break so easily.

Until Steve.

Brave and reckless, kind and bitchy and oblivious, self-sacrificing and self-centered, vain and dorky Steve. An enigma if Eddie ever met one. One he couldn't get enough of, each layer a new but pleasant surprise.

With Steve, Eddie doesn't have to reinvent himself, doesn't have to be any of the stories or boxes or labels.

With Steve, Eddie can let go.

With Steve, Eddie can stop looking over his shoulder.

With Steve, Eddie can let down his guard and show his soft belly.

With Steve, Eddie can be a good boy, sweet and obedient and sincere.

"You're doing so good, baby, so good for me. Fucking me so well, so sweet, feeding me that thick cock of yours. Can feel it in my throat. All for me, my good boy treating me so well," Steve coos with his mouth right next to Eddie's ear. They've been at it for what seems like hours and Eddie is so far gone, trembling in Steve's arms as he keeps rocking his hips, the only thing on his mind is Steve. Being good for Steve.

He's already made Steve come down his throat, lapping up every single drop like the good boy he is, before opening Steve up with his fingers and tongue. He pulled another orgasm out of him as he kept stroking across his prostate while licking messily inside him where he had spread him open on his fingers.

Eddie thought they were done, but Steve had other plans as he gathered up his own cum to spread over Eddie's cock, intention clear. Eddie had hesitated, afraid to hurt Steve because it was too much. It was only when he told Eddie to fuck him with a smoldering look from under his lashes that he finally, carefully, pushed inside him.

He's been hard and aching ever since Steve pushed him to his knees and made him nuzzle the bulge in Steve's tight Levis.

He's been ready to come since Steve's cock hit the back of his throat, moaning so prettily as it fluttered around him.

He's been holding himself back from coming by the skin of his teeth since Steve started clinging to him, overstimulated and loving and everything Eddie could ever want, cooing the sweetest and filthiest praise as Eddie slid in and out of the hot, tight grip of his body.

"What do you want baby, tell me, I'll give you everything my sweet little thing, just tell me what you need." Steve's soothing voice washes over him and he realizes he's whimpering into the sweaty skin of Steve's neck.

"You," Eddie replies without hesitation. "Just you, wanna make you feel good, 's all I need, just you." He's babbling, too far gone to be anything close to coherent. Reduced to his soft, needy core. "Love you so much, wanna stay like this forever, never wanna leave you." Things he never thought he'd say out loud spill out of his mouth and he can feel Steve tighten around him, impossibly so and he's so close but he can't, not without -

"Eddie, baby, don't stop, 'm so close, I love you too," Steve pants before whimpering, "Oh God, you're making me come again, kiss me, please, baby, kiss me."

He can't really feel his body anymore, his mouth clumsily seeking Steve's, but he could never deny him anything. Especially not when he's begging him so sweetly.

They both come within seconds of each other, no more words needed. Steve, whose legs and arms are wrapped around Eddie so tightly that it's impossible to tell where one ends and the other begins, is the first to spill between their bellies. The fluttering of his hole, the bucking of his hips and the rhythmic way he clenches around him makes Eddie follow suit.

It almost hurts in its intensity after holding back for so long and he can't help the pitiful whimpering or the overwhelming tears.

Cradling Eddie's head in his giant hands, Steve wipes away the tears and kisses the whines from Eddie's trembling mouth. More tears follow, his love and devotion and gratitude for being loved in this way running down his cheeks as salty droplets, and Steve kisses them away as well.

"You were perfect," he whispers between his kisses, "I love you so much."

When his face is clean, the tears finally stopped, Eddie sinks back down onto the man beneath him. The man who gave him back this side of himself, a side he missed and mourned without even knowing it. A version of himself he has learned to love, to like best, thanks to Steve Harrington and his unwavering love for Eddie.

[starfall-dream]

Companions realizing they love reader (Isekai Baldur's Gate x reader)

This is a repost from my main blog

---

Gale:

Gale is a romantic at heart, reading romance books, imagining a idyllic life with a lover. When he was younger, he believed his lover would be Mystra, living with the goddess that he dedicated his life to. But now, he finds his wishes to be more complicated. Now you're here, and he finds himself imagining what life would look like if you never leave.

"Gale, what does this one do?" You point to one of his many scrolls.

"It's a simple illumination spell" He responded. "There are much more interesting spells in this pile over here." He pointed to another pile of scrolls, this one inside his tent. You look apprehensive, like you don't want to invade him space. Your care, your kindness, was something new to him. "Go on, take a look, I don't mind." He smiled, watching as you entered his tent and dig through his scrolls, taking great care to not damage them as you explore them.

Your eyes sparkled as you read through each spell, asking question after question about each one. It was times like this that reminded him you were not of this world, so fascinated by things that were so common to others. Every gasp of interest filled his heart with pride, made his mind run with a strange sense of affection. Affection he never felt for another, not even Mystra.

"Wow Gale, these are all so amazing!" As you speak, he's broken out of his thoughts, and he realizes that he is completely and utterly in love with you. Maybe it's a little vain or maybe he's been reading too much, but he craves to hear you praise him more. He wants to hear the sweat sound of your approval be directed towards him, for it to never end.

For once, love and fear don't mix for Gale. He doesn't fear falling in love with you or wanting to devote himself to you. His mind drifts back to Mystra, and he knows it's different. His isn't a boy, someone who can easily be manipulated. He's a man, and he knows what he wants.

And he knows he wants you.

Wyll:

Wyll is valiant, heroic, the exact image of a gentleman. He dedicates his life to protecting the weak, and with you there is no difference.

He doesn't want to call you weak, he knows your inexperience comes from something deeper, but he can't help but pity you whenever your situation. Their fearsome leader, someone from another world, scared and confused, but brave nonetheless. It's admirable honesty, but somedays the world is too cruel, and it agonizing watching you traverse a world that has no care for you.

Like now, as enemies swarm your group, snarling and growling in your direction. You look terrified, but you're hiding it well. But as one of the creatures lunges for your throat, he waits no longer before piercing it through its gut. It twitches and growls before collapsing to the ground. You do similarly, moving towards Wyll and rushing towards his arms. He holds you, feeling your heart beat wildly against him. Your other companions deal with the looting as you quickly compose yourself.

"I'm sorry." You stumble out. "I-i just--"

"No need to apologize." Protectiveness swelled in his chest as he tried so hard to ignore the warmth he once felt when he held you. It was so different than anything else he's felt before. It was comforting, addicting even. He craved it more and more as you backed away from him. He could tell you were disturbed, you've never seen him like this before, but his protectiveness overruled any sense of composure he once had.

"Thank you for protecting me Wyll." You whisper, loud enough for him to hear. In an instant, it was like a weight was lifted from his chest, and he could breathe again. You were safe, he has kept you safe. The warmth, it was spreading through him once more, inviting and so very captivating, just like yourself.

In that moment, Wyll sweared to keep you safe, to protect the warmth that he's come to enjoy. He swears to become your protector, no matter how strong you become, you'll always be his top priority, his captivating love.

Halsin

Your dedication to helping this land is something Halsin finds fascinating. It seems second nature to you, never questioning when someone needs help. It honestly worries Halsin, how easy you can be manipulated by others. Halsin finds himself being worried by you often, like now, as he tends to a gash on your arm, a large wound oozing blood onto the floor of his tent. There is only so much Halsin's healing can do, the bandages on your arm becoming a lass resort from any more serious injuries.

"You must be more careful." He warns you, taking great care to wrap your arm gently, not wanting to inflict more pain onto you. "I do not like seeing you in pain." You seem surprised by his declaration, your eyes widening a fraction. He almost revels in your shock, if it weren't for his concern over your injury.

"You don't have to worry about me." You say once he's finished wrapping your arm. "I am your leader." That was another thing Halsin found fascinating, your bravery. Your sheer determination even while everything else was against you. But he also found it terrifying, seeing you get hurt or put yourself in danger nearly sent his heart into an attack, he just wished you would listen to him.

But he guesses that's what makes you so lovable, your kindness, your bravery, your stubbornness. He wouldn't have you any other way, even if you do fill him with dread from time to time. "Please just--be more careful, for me." He requests, gazing at your wound. Blood has seeped through the cloth already.

You smile "I'll try." Your tone had a light air to it, and Halsin couldn't help but smile.

You were going to be the death of him.

Shadowheart

Shadowheart never understood her peers, but truthfully, her peers never understood her.

She watches with a small scowl as you converse with Wyll, a bright smile on both of your faces, but yours is somehow the only one she can focus on. It angers her--maybe angers isn't the right word, it confuses her. She doesn't understand her companions behavior, you're some random human, gone mad by the parasite. Their adoration, it was strange.

Sometimes, she feels like the only normal person in camp. With Gale clinging onto you like a child, Wyll's near obsession with protecting you, and Halsin's worry over your every move, Shadowheart is to believe that nearly everyone has gone mad. But as she hears you laugh at something Wyll said, and as Wyll somehow moves even closer to you, she starts to believe she's gone mad as well. That same anger burns in her chest and her cheeks glow with embarrassment.

You're so strangely alluring, keeping them entranced to the point of obsession. It's almost maddening how you don't seem to know how taken they all are with you, having them each wrapped around your finger. Shadowheart wants to believe this is all a persona, a ploy to use them for your own gain. But she knows better than to believe something like that, you're not the type to manipulate and lie to people.

She wants to believe that the fire that burns inside her is anger. Anger at you using them, trapping them within your grasps to achieved some strange power beyond their understanding. But in reality, the only thing that burns inside her is jealousy. Jealousy at the others for getting to you first, for taking your time and keeping you close to them at all times.

She'd never admit this out loud however, not wanting anyone to know what you do to her. You are a weakness, she can't have those. But as you call her over to the fire, and as Wyll represses a frown, she finds herself allowing room for weakness, at least for a small while.

Karlach

"Would you like a hug, Karlach?" She would like nothing more, but a part of her is afraid. She trust Dammon and his expertises, but she never wants to hurt you. But as you open up your arms towards her, smiling so brightly, she can't help but wrap you up so tightly, and like expected, you don't burn.

You are everything she's expected and more. You are soft and inviting, and she finds herself not wanting to let you go. You're so warm, but in a way that was unfamiliar to her. It wasn't like the flames of Avernus, hot and overwhelming. It wasn't like the fire burning in her heart. It was like a hearty fireplace on a cold winter day, comforting and familiar, and she found herself missing it as you pull away from her.

"Thank you, Solider." Her voice was sincere. You nod, smiling at her, causing her to smile even more.

Later that night, should couldn't help but think of your warmth, and found herself missing it. It surprised her, how much she wanted to be close to you, how much she wanted to hold your hand, keep you close, and never let go. It worried her, how overwhelming these feelings were, but unlike the fire that once burned in her or her infernal engine, it was something she strangely enjoyed. It reminded her of you, almost like you were forever with her.

As she tries to fall asleep, she finds herself thinking of you, of your hug and your smile, and how she would do anything to feel it again, to never loose you. She knows this won't last forever, Dammon told her as much. Eventually, the heat of her engine will catch up to her and she'll have to make a difficult choice.

But that's something she can think about later, all she wants to do right now is think of you.

Astarion

Astarion thought he was better than his companions. He wasn't going to fall for your act so easily, he's seen it all before. Act helpless in need of saving, have someone to naive and guidable sweep in, and then stab them in the back. He was sure that was what you were up too, but after keeping your act up for weeks, it seemed as though you were playing the long game.

Astarion didn't mind, nor did he judge, he just--wished you weren't so good at it. He wished he didn't fold nearly as fast when you ask him to stitch up your clothing, hiding his blush as you praise him for his work. He wished he didn't seethe with envy whenever you were with another, burning as they hold onto you tighter and tighter. And by gods, he wished he didn't find himself wanting you so damn much.

Astarion pricks his finger as his mind wanters, a small sting spreading through the appendage. A slight hiss leaves his lips before he puts down the shirt his hands, your shirt. It's almost pathetic how much care he puts into repairing your clothing, almost making him laugh. The tear was a small one, there shouldn't be a reason he's keeping it this long, but he finds himself caring a lot about your things, your clothes, your hair, you in general. He hates it, but he can't deny it.

Eventually, he picks the shirt back up, examining it. The old tear, barely noticeable, weights heavily on Astarion's undead heart. Would you notice it? Would you be upset that he failed to do his job correctly? He knows it's stupid to think this way, to care so much about what you think, but he can't help it. You're alluring, captivating even, and it scares him.

It scares him how easily you captivate people. It scares him how easily you captivated him. But most of all, the knowledge of what each of them would do for you scares him the most.

Astarion knows that he's no better than anyone else in your strange group, he's just as swayed by your kindness and compassion as any of them. He's just too scared to admit it.

Lae'Zel

Lae'Zel doesn't like you.

You disturb her, with your strange mutterings and stupidity that has to be due to the parasite. You never seem to know what's going on, and if was in her nature, she would pity you. But of course, she doesn't. She has no reason to feel bad for you, not when everything is at stake, not when any of you could die at any time. But traveling with you has been--eventful to say the least. Her allies seem to see something in you, not that she cares much. You're weak, helpless, insane, and nothing will change that.

Lae'Zel has been taught her entire life that the only thing that matters is keeping herself strong. Surrounding herself with lesser people, weak people, is a distraction to avoid at all cost. But she doesn't have the option now, you are her only option, and she will have to work with what's she's got.

So she protects you, she keeps you safe, and she keeps you alive. She needs you, as little as she wants to admit it. You are important to her cause, nothing else matters. She couldn't care less what you think of her, as long as her parasite is destroyed and her people are saved, that's all that matters.

But she can't deny the surprise she feels when you agree to help her people, when you defend her from the others blatant disrespect, something you claim to be "teasing". She can't help but appreciate it when you, someone so much weaker than her, protect her in battle. It shocking, even more so that she doesn't hate it. She doesn't hate the affection from someone so weak, she doesn't hate it when you rely on her, or when you seek her out.

She doesn't know what she feels exactly, but she knows for a fact that she does not like you.

[frankieburieshisdead]

✮ Hobie Brown x male!ballerina reader ✮

You and Hobie started going out about 6 months ago. You met at a black-empowerment student group on your campus years before you had started seeing each other, and you remembered him starkly because he was the only person in the room who had brought up any kind of black queer issue, to which he was quickly shut down. He never returned to the group, and you always thought he was so much cooler than you for that. Being the only dark face in a line of pinky white dancers every day meant that you couldn't give up the small community of black people you had amongst the students. Even if it meant nodding along with arguments like 'gay black folks give us a bad name.' Hobie would never do that. Hobie would have said something. Its part of the reason he swore to never return to organized liberation movements. "If the movement cant be translated to a mentality, its not worth your time my love," he had told you, and you had just smiled, because you knew you would never be as brave and he was. It was one of the reasons you fell in love with him.

He brought you flowers on your first date. They were haphazardly picked and thrown about, clearly hand picked from someones garden he had pilchered, wrapped in an old newspaper. You loved them more than anything anyone had ever given you. You still kept them pressed in between a stack of books you kept at your hostel.

He came to every single one of your shows. Even the ones he couldn't afford, at fancy recital halls that made you feel out of place, he would find a way to sneak into the audience. One time, he even managed to get a job as a lighting guy a month before your biggest performance of the year so that he would be there. You still tease him about it.

The first time you went to one of his shows, you stuck out like a sore thumb. It was right after rehearsals, so you were still in your pink leotard and sheer brown leggings. Angry boys with spiked clothing kept on bumping up around you as the crowd bobbed up and down with the loud music. You couldn't find Hobie anywhere, and you didn't know why you did what you did, but when a particularly hard shove landed you on your hands and knees, scraped up from the grain of the cement floor, you called out for your boyfriend. "Hobie!" You shouted, almost certain he wouldn't hear as the crowd around you swallowed up the noise. Only he did hear, and not a moment later he was behind you, wrapping his long lanky arms around your waist as he pulled you back onto your feet. "You alright sweetheart?" He whispered just loud enough for you to hear. "Just got a bit overwhelmed. Sorry Hobes." You replied. He shook his head fondly at you, burying his face in the crook of your shoulder. "Come with me?"

You spent the rest of the concert in the sound box above the stage, wrapped up in Hobie's big flannel jacket as you cheered on the lovely man you were beginning to fall in love with.

When he told you about the mask, about his other life as a webslining vigilante, you found that you weren't even surprised. Of course, your anti-cop, pro-punk politics boyfriend was Spiderman. It was the first time you had seen him look nervous, so you took his face in your hands and pressed his forehead agaisnt your own. "You're the bravest person I know. I am so proud of you," you whisper against his lips. And then, because it had to be said "don't you ever let yourself get hurt." He kissed you gently and promised.

He broke that promise less than a week later. You were warming up in your room before your first class, far earlier than anyone else was awake, which was why the loud banging on your door startled you so much. Never in a million years did you expect a bloody and battered Hobie Brown to fall into your room. He wouldn't let you call the police. Wouldn't even let you call an ambulance. You would never forget the rasping noise he made as he lay on your floor, blood soaking through your carpet.

You didn't speak to him for weeks after it happened. You were able to bribe some of the medical students from the STEM section of the campus to stitch up your clumsy boyfriend who had fell down the stairs. Apparently, it wasn't even that deep of a wound, just happened to nick a part of the body that blead a lot or something like that. You still woke up shaking when you thought about it.

Hobie does everything to get you to forgive him. He leaves flowers inside your ballet locker everyday, steals new lace for your shoes from the silk shop he knows you lone but can never afford. He apologizes again and again, but you can't look at him without seeing the gasping expression on his face as you thought you were watching him die. It's not until he does the one thing you thought he would never do, the one place where Hobie Brown swore he would never show his face again.

He was at the next black empowerment meeting you attended. You couldn't help the visible shock fall onto your face. "Just for the record, I don't like it here." He stated plain and clear before the meeting had even started. "I think you lot are a bunch of bootlicking, regressive posers who wouldn't know what respectability politics looked if they smacked you in the face." Hobie brought his gaze to his shoes, black locs falling over his eyes. "But I fucked up. I really scared someone I care about, and I dont know how to make it right. He's one of the bravest people I know, and I am so lucky that in some capacity, he chose me." Hobie looked up, directly at you now, "I love you sweetheart. I'm sorry, I should have never put you in that position. Let me make it up to you. However I can baby, let me make it up to you."

You stopped going to meetings. Hobie introduced you to a group of black ballet dancers who he had met when a theater had accidentally double booked his band, and suddenly your community was started to look a lot bigger than the arts campus. He promised you that he would always go to the hospital when he was hurt like that, even if it meant supporting a system of bourgeois control over public health that contributed to the futile distribution of wealth under capitalism. You didn't quite catch that last part. He kept his promise. He made it up to you.

END

[hikarimiyanaga]

The Queen's Bride (Part 1)

Summary :

Being a rich man's kid isn't as exciting as everyone makes it out to be.

You have no freedom.

Every choice has been made for you ever since you were born.

What you eat. What course you were going to study. What school you're going to.

Even the one you were going to marry.

So to your surprise, your father has finally chosen one thing right for you.

Daenerys Targaryen.

Warnings : Omegaverse. Stark!Reader. Omega!Reader x Alpha!Daenerys Targaryen. Modern!AU.

Look who's finally watching Game of Thrones. Surprise, surprise, I fell in love with Daenerys.

"This is bullshit!" Jon, your cousin, shouts as he paces around you.

Both of you were just given two names.

Two people you never met that you were going to spend the rest of your life with.

"Who the fuck is Ygritte and why do I have to marry her?" Jon shouts in frustration and you shrug.

"I mean, Father could've paired you with one of the Lannisters. Myrcella is an omega-"

"Shut up." Jon glares at you.

"You have to admit it. Ygritte is pretty as fuck."

"Lucky for Robb, huh? He's the heir so he could choose freely."

"She is. But- I don't know her, Y/N." Jon sighs as he sits next to you.

"Lucky asshole." You slap his arm.

"He's my big brother."

"He is. I wish I could be the heir."

"Seriously? You? Jon Stark of Winterfell Corp? Are you hearing me?"

"Shut up." The two of you look at each other then laugh. "Yours is pretty too, by the way. And a Targaryen too."

"Why them? Our mottos are literally parallels."

"Yeah. Winter is Coming."

"Fire and Blood. Like why her?" You groan at the ceiling.

"Just be glad that she's pretty. Some don't get that lucky."

"Are you talking about-" Jon nods and you sigh.

"I just wish we had freedom."

"Me too. Y/N. Me too."

-

You get your bag and look at the empty apartment around you.

"I need Sansa to room with me. Like gods, this place is fucking big enough for ten people at least." You mumble to yourself as you leave the apartment.

Just like everything else in your life. The apartment was provided by your Father, Ned Stark. You could count the number of times on your fingers that you've actually talked to him rather than just receive orders or scolding from him.

Your phone rings just as you get inside the Westeros University. You answer it as you see your little sister's name.

"Y/N! How are you?" You smile at Arya's voice.

"I'm good, Arry. Where are you?" How is she calling you right now?

"I'm at home. There was a lice problem at school today so we went home! Are you free??" You grin at her exciting tone.

"In two hours, I will be. Why?"

"Can we go play? Mom said she'll let me go to the mall if I'm with you!"

"Sure, can you wait there and behave?"

"Yep! See you later!"

"See you." You say softly and smile as you go to your first and last class of the day. You were so glad that you chose your own schedule. You sit down at your usual seat and hum as you take out your laptop. Looks like professor Varys is late today.

Westeros University is the biggest University in all of Westeros. It has lessons even in magic.

"Did you hear, Y/N?" You look up as Oberyn sits beside you. You were somewhat friends. He can charm anyone in a room while you can outread anyone in a room. Truth be told, even you didn't know why he talked to you.

"Hear what?"

"Not interested in rumors as usual?" He asks and you shake your head.

"Even if Varys tells us otherwise, I still don't like rumors and hearsays." Oberyn nods and grins in satisfaction.

"Which is why you make the perfect audience." You sigh. "Listen to this. Someone is doing it."

"Doing what?"

"Seeing if the dragons will choose them."

"Seriously? That thing hasn't been done in like 200 years."

"Right? But someone is brave enough to do it now. You know what it means, right?"

"Yeah. They get to sit on the Iron Throne regardless of their last name."

"And?" You raise an eyebrow at him in confusion.

"And what?"

"Complete freedom!" You tilt your head at him. "No more choices by parents! No arranged marriages!"

"Damn. Sounds like a dream come true."

"For you guys. I still don't get why you guys won't love freely."

"Because last names have a value of their own. Here at Westeros at least. Oh. And Westeros Conglomerate too." Oberyn shakes his head.

"What you guys should value is talent, not blood."

"Meritocracy rather than blood right. Reasonable." Oberyn looks at you. "I don't make the choices though."

"Marry the king then."

"I'd rather die, Oberyn. I'd rather eat my own shit."

"Still hate men?"

"Only romantically." Oberyn chuckles just as Varys comes through the door.

"You're missing out on like half of the world then." You give him a smile.

"I don't think I am."

-

You hum as you park your car in front of the Stark Mansion. You were just getting your bag when you feel a pair of arms circle around your legs. You look down and see Arya smiling at you.

"Hey, Arya!" You scoop her up and she squeals. Arya is only 9 years younger but you love doing this to her. "Where's Ma and Father?"

"Dad is still at work! Ma is inside!" You put her down and nod.

"Come on, then. I'll tell Ma that I'll take you to the mall." Arya grins at you and she begins to tell you about her classmates and school.

"And then this one guy-"

"Y/N! You're home!" Catelyn Stark rushes over and hugs you. You hug her just as tightly.

"Hey, Ma. Arya wanted to play with me and it's been months since I've been home so I figured I should take her."

"I'm sure she understands that you're busy with university and all."

"I know, Ma! But school is out and she said she was free." Arya pouts from beside you and you smile.

"I am free, no worries." You ruffle Arya's hair and she smiles at you.

"Be sure to be back for Dinner then."

"We'll buy some before we get home. Are Robb and Father-"

"Busy." You nod in understanding then take Arya's hand.

"You ready for an afternoon with me? Your best sister?"

"YEAH! We'll destroy those high scores in the arcade!" You grin and agree.

-

You come home with a passed out Arya, a bag full of plushies, and a bag with food.

"You actually made her sleep? You are a godsend." You laugh at your mom and grin.

"Once you get Arya's quirks and use them against her, she can make herself run out of energy."

"Please don't tell-"

"Ma, she wants to. She can afford to learn it still."

"But her marri-"

"She's still 9, ma. She doesn't need to think about that yet."

"Right. Are you staying for dinner at least?"

"Sure. Is Sansa-" Before you finish your sentence, someone has already hugged you.

"Y/N! Why didn't you tell me you were coming?" You turn around and find your other little sister, Sansa Stark.

"Well, I had to exhaust this one so." Sansa looks at Arya who was cuddling your neck still.

"Whoa. Arya never sleeps this early."

"Like I said. Exhausted. Are Brandon and Rickon here?"

"Yep! They should be getting back from Winterfell by now."

"What did they do there??"

"Father wanted to show them something. Are you staying tonight?"

"If you're willing to share your bed."

"ALWAYS!" You shush her and smile.

"I'll just be putting this one in her bed then I'll come down. Here." You give the bag full of food to Catelyn and smile. "Some of my favorites."

"I'll plate them up." You nod and begin your walk with Arya still sleeping while cuddling your neck.

"You're becoming heavier, Arya. I wonder if I should do some training just so I can carry you around."

-

"Y/N! You're back!" Brandon says then hugs you.

"Hey, little brother." You kiss his head and smile as he beams at you.

"SIS!" Rickon shouts then tackles you to no avail.

"Heya, baby bro." You pick him up and grin. "Did you grow??"

"I did! I'm defeating Arya soon!" You grin at him.

"Don't let her hear you!" You ruffle his hair then turn to Sansa. "Did you do your homework yet?"

"No? Will you help me later?" She gives you her puppy dog eyes and you groan at her. You admit that you're too weak to your siblings.

"Fine. But no talking about boys. I swear to God if I hear one more thing about-"

"But Ser Loras is just so dreamy." You look at her with a deadpan expression.

"Try me and I will sleep besides Arya." Sansa pouts.

"Fine. No boy talk." She grumbles. "Stingy."

"I'm gay. I'd rather marry another omega as long as she's a woman." Catelyn smiles as she sees you getting along with your siblings.

"Do not plant ideas in their head."

"Ma, Sansa is as straight as a ruler. These two don't even know what their second genders are." Catelyn rolls her eyes at you. "That reminds me, when's your test?" You look at Sansa as you place Rickon at his seat.

"This Monday! I'm so excited to confirm that I'm an Omega!"

"And if you're a beta?" You ask and Catelyn slaps your arm. "What? There's nothing wrong about being a beta! I wanted to be one before."

"You did?" Sansa asks and you nod. "Why?"

"More options." Catelyn hits your head and you laugh.

"Why? Does being an omega lessen your options?"

"Technically, I can't have another omega as my soulmate. Not that it matters."

"Oh yeah, dad said he sent you someone." You roll your eyes at that.

"He sent a file of someone. He wouldn't just let some stranger in my apartment."

"Who is it?? Can we know??" You groan at the excitement in Sansa's voice. There's nothing more that interests her than love talk.

"She's a Targaryen."

"The Dragon Family!" Rickon shouts and you ruffle his hair.

"Yup! Bran, do you know their motto?" Brandon hums as he gets some food.

"Yeah. Fire and Blood, right?"

"Yup! You all will get some ice cream. I brought some earlier." Catelyn glares at you. "What?"

"Cavities."

"I only visit once in a while, Ma. Just this once." Catelyn pinches your cheek. "Ow! Give! Give!"

"Just this once and don't ever do this again without saying anything to me."

"Yes, Ma! I got it! Ow!" Catelyn finally lets you go and you hold your cheek. You pout at her. "You didn't have to pinch that hard."

"You know how I feel about sweets." You sigh.

"I know. Sorry."

-

"Good thing the ice cream didn't give Rickon sugar rush."

"Yeah. It was a relief that Ma didn't pinch me."

"Those two boys really love you and adore you."

"They do." You look at Sansa and pat her hair. "I hope you become a beta, baby girl." Sansa scoffs at you.

"Wha- why!?" You smile sadly at her.

"So then you'll have more freedom." Sansa holds your hand. "Sadly. As an Omega, everything is controlled for you here in Westeros. Specially if you have a last name of a noble."

"Y/N." You squeeze her hand and grin.

"Hopefully, you and Arya get to decide your own futures. And your own partners." Sansa gets teary eyed at that. You let go of her hand then pat her hair again. "Time to get ready for bed. I'll just check on Arya for a second, okay?" Sansa nods at you and you close her door before covering your mouth with your hand.

Freedom. What a grand word. For you, it was thrown out the window when you got your test results.

Everyone says that Omegas have equal standings with Alphas. That the world is getting better.

"What a load of fucking bullshit." You mumble to yourself as you make your way to Arya's room.

You open the door and see that Arya is still fast asleep. You get to her bed and kiss her head.

"I hope you'll have more freedom than me, little one." You tuck her in and leave.

-

PS.

Jon is a Stark here and Catelyn knows he's Lyanna's son but no one knows who his father is. Let's just pretend for a second that he's not a Targaryen.

I actually was going to go the usual route for this aka Alpha Reader but decided against it. Omega Reader just works better for the angst inside my head.

[vasito-de-leche]

Hiya! I saw that requests were open, and I wanted to ask if you could do literally anything for Vertin and a reader who's romantic. I'd prefer if the reader was not involved with St. Pavlov in any way and actively avoids/makes it known they hate the Foundation, but I'd love anything that has to do with just Vertin tbh.

Anyway that's all, have a good day/night!

;R1999 VERTIN - "this life and the next"

Vertin x Reader. 1.1k words. hurt/comfort It's the end of an era and you have to say goodbye to the love of your life. But Vertin isn't ready to let go of you yet - she'll always find you in this life and the next.

I went for a little oneshot for this one and tried to do the opposite of my usual stuff to focus on the reader's POV for once lolol. still kept things pretty vague (hopefully) so this can be read as an arcanist/human reader!

ty for the request nonnie! not sure if the romantic part came across because, well. MY HAND SLIPPED WHEN WRITING THIS AND I GOT A BIT CARRIED AWAY. HOPE YOU LIKE IT ANYWAY!

Her hand slides into yours.

Vertin's skin is cold, it always has been, but her grip is firm and steady whenever she holds you. There is an unwavering confidence in her movements that sweeps you off your feet, like this is simply how things were meant to be.

Like the whole universe was meant for you and her, and nothing else.

You know of her role and title - the Timekeeper - and just the thought alone makes your chest ache. You know the things they expect of her, back in that awful institution of self-righteous bureaucrats, and your free hand curls up into a fist. You know of her safe haven, a pocket dimension in that suitcase she carries everywhere, but what good is it for when she's still trapped in a gilded cage?

This is an unspoken truth, one no one dares to mention in her presence - all the people she's saved throughout the eras, they know that their freedom and their future comes at the cost of hers. You know this, and so does she.

Above all, you know her.

She's Vertin, your precious, little dove. She's cold and she's the warmest person you ever met. She's hard to read and every little detail about her betrays that stoic nature. She will never stop trying to do the right thing, even when dealt the worst possible hand. You love her for it.

And you love that, at the end of the world, she's chosen to be here with you.

The timer on her forearm continues ticking down, but you don't care what the bold orange numbers say because the moment they reach zero, your life will end. And you've chosen enjoy every single second you have left with her.

If life were a movie, this would've been the perfect third act climax - a temporary goodbye between people who are destined to be together against all odds. There would be a fade to black, and the next scene would show you and Vertin, older and happier than ever, unbothered by the problems of a distant past.

Vertin calls out your name, bringing you back to the current present - your chest feels lighter than ever even as the rain begins to pour.

"I'm sorry. We only have about-"

"Hush, hush. I don't want to hear about that right now." You're quick to silence her with a gentle finger atop her lips. It's your turn to ease her worries, after all the burdens she's chosen to carry. "I want to hear what you think about the future."

There's a moment of silence, she's considering your words very carefully. You don't need to be a genius to know that she's dying to ask you to join her. You could brave the storm with her and everyone else if you try hard enough - but you're not willing to become another pawn for the Foundation. You can't do that to yourself, you've seen the way they treated Vertin, Sonetto, Matilda - everyone else. You've seen what Manus Vindictae do to their people.

"...Right now?" You nod at this, it's only fair after she's asked pretty much everyone she knows. You want to hear it, the hopes she holds in her heart. Vertin takes a deep breath. "You want to know what I think of the future, what I want in it. Correct?"

Somehow, the intensity of her voice makes your heart skip a beat. Like she's made up her mind about something important.

Out of the corner of your eye, you see it - water moving up, rain being reversed - but you keep your focus on Vertin and nod once again.

She pulls you into her arms, a hand in the back of your neck and the other one wrapped around your waist. In this position, with your face nestled in her neck, all you can see is the rise and fall of her chest in the little space left between your bodies.

Your face is flushed with both love and embarrassment - even now, Vertin is trying to protect you from seeing the chaos that surrounds you. You want to speak, to tease her for being such a reliable knight in shining armor, tell her that she can't keep making you fall in love with her, that you're meant to be the hopeless romantic - but she beats you to it.

"I want to see the future you told me about. One without pain, where everything is just one never-ending fairytale. I want a gallant, white horse to ride with you into the sunset. All those cheesy things that you love, I want all of them."

Her hold on you tightens. There is a constant, loud booming sound, like a dying star, that makes your ears hurt but Vertin's voice rises above it. Your grip on her is just as desperate.

"And I don't want to say goodbye to anyone ever again."

It's the end of an era, you can feel yourself dissipating, being pulled apart from inside out by time itself. The tears flowing from your eyes fly upwards instead, and you only let out a choked laugh when you pull away from Vertin, just enough to see her face. She's crying just like you.

"You're so mean, even now you're calling me cheesy and making fun of me." Your voice breaks when you say this, but you still manage to keep a light-hearted tone. "Hey, Vertin?"

There's a glimmer of hope in her eyes, like she's waiting for you to say yes, to dive head-first into her suitcase and forget about this bitter moment.

"Do you think we get our happy ever after in another universe? That we'll find each other, no matter what?"

Just as you stop feeling your feet, your legs, your arms - Vertin leans forward, her forehead against yours. You hate hearing her so vulnerable and broken like this, but you still commit every detail of her face and her voice to memory.

"Yes. Yes, no matter what it takes, I'll always find you."

"Promise?"

Those are the last words you utter before the universe rips you apart and the world fades to black.

You jolt awake, feeling a suffocating pressure in your chest. It's hard to breathe, even more so now that you realize you're crying. Something shifts to your left, the sound of blankets rustling about - the sudden movement makes you flinch, still dazed in your fear.

A cold hand slips off from yours. Someone yawns and whispers your name in the faint light of dawn.

"...Deep breaths, okay? Make sure to breathe with me." Her words are rehearsed, calm. You breathe in and out as she instructs. Once you calm down, the woman next to you sits up and rests her head on your shoulder. Her long, silver locks tickle against your skin.

"Feeling better, love?"

Almost on instinct, your hand reaches out for hers, now tracing circles on her bare forearm. No more "Storms", no more orange numbers, no more goodbyes.

"Yeah, it was just a... dumb nightmare. Thanks for the help."

This is your happy ever after. You turn just enough to kiss the top of her head and smile into her hair when she yawns again. That one is contagious, you yawn as well, feeling much more relaxed.

"Mhm...Oh, your breath smells like the leftovers we ate for dinner."

"Vertin! Way to ruin the moment!"