#something about a person determined not to care or be cared for

[echo-riot]

Ambessa with a reader who always refuses to take money from Ambessa or hates (but also appreciates) when she buys/gives her gifts?

Thank you. 🤍

✞⛧ Ambessa Medarda with partner Who Refuses Gifts or Money ✞⛧

• Ambessa quickly notices your resistance to accepting gifts or financial support, but at first, she brushes it off as modesty. It doesn’t take long for her to realize how deeply you dislike the idea.

• She finds your independence admirable—refreshing, even. Ambessa is surrounded by people who would happily accept her wealth without a second thought, so your stance on the matter intrigues her.

• “I don’t need your money,” you’d say firmly, arms crossed. Ambessa would chuckle, leaning back in her chair. “And I don’t need your permission to take care of you.”

• Despite your protests, she enjoys surprising you with thoughtful gestures. She trades lavish gifts for subtle ones—flowers picked from the garden, your favorite treat delivered unexpectedly, or handwritten notes slipped into your belongings.

• Ambessa starts tailoring her generosity to align with your values. Instead of extravagant jewelry or luxury items, she offers practical help—fixing something that’s broken or providing resources that support your goals.

• The arguments over her spending on you are a mix of frustration and affection. “Ambessa, I told you to stop!” you’d exclaim. “And I told you I won’t,” she’d respond, her tone calm but unyielding.

• You secretly appreciate the care and effort she puts into her gestures, even if they make you uncomfortable. It’s hard to stay mad when her gifts always seem to come with so much thought behind them.

• Ambessa loves watching you reluctantly accept something she’s given you, especially when she can see how much you genuinely love it. The way your lips twitch into a small, begrudging smile is a victory she cherishes.

• When she takes you to high-profile events, Ambessa always ensures you’re comfortable. She might insist on dressing you in something extravagant, but she’s quick to remind you, “You deserve to shine just as brightly as anyone else here.”

• To compromise, you occasionally let her spoil you in ways that feel more personal, like cooking you a meal or spending a quiet evening together. She never complains, as long as she can show her love in some way.

• Ambessa admires your determination to stand on your own. It’s one of the many reasons she fell for you. Still, she wishes you’d let her shoulder some of your burdens now and then.

• She’s incredibly patient when it comes to easing your discomfort about gifts. “One day,” she’ll tease, “you’ll realize there’s no shame in being cared for.”

• Ambessa takes note of your interests and passions, finding ways to support them without crossing your boundaries. If you’re an artist, she might quietly arrange for high-quality supplies to find their way into your life. If you’re studying something, she’ll ensure you have access to the best resources.

• On special occasions, like your birthday or an anniversary, she pulls out all the stops despite your protests. “Just let me have this one,” she’ll say with a sly grin, knowing full well you can’t argue when she’s already set everything in motion.

• The way you try to downplay her wealth or influence amuses her endlessly. She loves that you see her as just Ambessa, not the legendary warrior or the untouchable powerhouse everyone else sees.

• If anyone dares to question or criticize your refusal to take advantage of her wealth, Ambessa is quick to shut them down. “It’s none of your business,” she’d say coldly, her protective nature flaring.

• You’ve learned to accept that Ambessa shows her love through actions, even if it’s not always in the way you’d prefer.

• Sometimes, when you’re in a particularly vulnerable moment, you let her spoil you without resistance. Whether it’s allowing her to hold you close or accepting a small token of her affection, those moments mean the world to her.

• Ambessa never takes your independence as a rejection of her love. If anything, it makes her respect you even more. She knows that when you do accept her care, it’s because you truly trust her.

• At the end of the day, Ambessa’s greatest gift to you is her unwavering support and love. Whether it’s through grand gestures or quiet moments, she’s always there, reminding you that she cherishes you for exactly who you are.

•|||——————————————————————|||•

A Drabble based on this idea

Ambessa Medarda had built her life around power. A woman of her stature and reputation was accustomed to the finer things—luxury, control, and influence—and she wielded them with ease. Giving came naturally to her. She could shift mountains if she wanted, and handing her beloved a small token of affection felt like the least she could do.

But you? You made it insufferably difficult.

She sat in her sunlit study, a newly commissioned necklace dangling from her fingers, the diamonds catching the light. It was elegant yet understated, perfect for you. Or at least, she thought so.

The memory of your last argument still lingered in her mind.

“Ambessa, I told you,” you had said, arms crossed and a stubborn pout on your face. “You don’t have to keep buying me things. I don’t want your money.”

“And I told you,” she had countered with a calmness that only years of diplomacy could maintain, “it’s not about needing to. I want to. You deserve to be spoiled.”

“I don’t need to be spoiled!” Your voice had raised, though your frustration wasn’t with her, not really. “I don’t want people thinking I’m with you for—”

She’d cut you off with a sharp look, her lips pressing into a thin line. “Don’t finish that sentence.”

Now, sitting in her study, Ambessa couldn’t help but chuckle. You were perhaps the first person in years who had refused to let her generosity flow unchallenged. It wasn’t that you didn’t appreciate her gifts—she could tell by the soft smiles you tried to hide when she surprised you with something thoughtful—but there was a fire in you that refused to let her money define your relationship.

It was admirable, frustrating, and entirely too endearing for her own good.

That evening, Ambessa found you in the garden. The sun was setting, painting the horizon in hues of amber and crimson. You were kneeling by the flowerbeds, tending to the blooms you’d insisted on planting yourself, despite her offers to hire a gardener. Dirt streaked your hands, and a content smile curved your lips.

“Working hard, I see,” Ambessa said as she approached, her voice carrying the same smooth confidence that had drawn you to her in the first place.

You glanced up, your expression softening when you saw her. “Someone has to.”

She smirked, kneeling beside you. “Careful, or I might take that as an insult to my work ethic.”

Your laugh was light, and it sent a flicker of warmth through her chest. “You? Not working hard? I’d believe the sun rising in the west before that.”

Ambessa reached out, brushing a stray strand of hair from your face. Her touch lingered, and she took a moment to admire the way the golden light kissed your skin.

“You’re beautiful,” she murmured.

You blushed, your hands pausing in the soil. “You’re not bribing me into accepting another gift with compliments, if that’s what you’re trying.”

She laughed, a deep, rich sound that you couldn’t help but love. “Is it so hard for you to let me spoil you?”

“Ambessa,” you said softly, shifting to face her. “I love you, but… I don’t want our relationship to feel transactional. I want to earn the things I have. I want to contribute.”

Her expression softened, her fingers tracing idle patterns on the back of your hand. “Do you think so little of me? That I would ever see you as someone who takes without giving back?”

“No, of course not.” You sighed, frustrated with yourself. “But people talk, Ambessa. They’ll see us and assume—”

“Let them assume,” she interrupted, her tone firm. “Their opinions are worth less than the soil beneath your nails.”

Her gaze was steady, unwavering, and you felt your resolve weaken under the weight of it. Ambessa always had a way of cutting through your insecurities, laying them bare so she could banish them with her unwavering confidence in you.

“I just don’t want to lose myself,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. “I don’t want to forget who I am.”

Ambessa cupped your face, her thumb brushing over your cheek. “And I would never let that happen. You are the most remarkable person I’ve ever known, not because of what you have, but because of who you are.”

Your eyes stung, and you blinked rapidly. “You always know what to say, don’t you?”

She smiled, leaning in to press a kiss to your forehead. “Years of practice.”

Later, as the two of you sat by the fire, she brought out the necklace she’d been holding earlier.

“Ambessa…”

“Before you say anything,” she began, holding it up so the firelight danced along the diamonds, “this isn’t just a gift. It’s a symbol. Of us.”

You frowned, confused. “What do you mean?”

She gestured for you to turn around, and you reluctantly obliged. Her hands were steady as she fastened the necklace around your neck, the cool metal resting against your skin.

“This,” she said, her voice low and intimate, “is to remind you that you are cherished. Not for what you do or what you give, but simply because you’re you. And if anyone dares to question that, they’ll have me to answer to.”

You touched the pendant lightly, your heart swelling despite your initial resistance. “Ambessa, I don’t know what to say…”

“You don’t have to say anything,” she replied, turning you back around to face her. “Just promise me you’ll wear it when you need a reminder of how much you’re loved.”

You nodded, unable to fight the smile that tugged at your lips. “Fine. But no more gifts for at least a month, okay?”

Ambessa chuckled, pulling you into her arms. “I’ll do my best. No promises.”

The next morning, you found a handwritten note on your bedside table, accompanied by a single red rose.

My dearest,

You are the one thing in my life that no amount of wealth or power could ever replace. I may not always express it in ways you approve of, but my love for you is unshakable. Thank you for being my balance, my light, and my heart.

Yours, always,

Ambessa

You sighed, a mix of exasperation and affection filling you. She would always push your boundaries, but you couldn’t deny the love and care behind her every action.

•|||——————————————————————|||•

[sunflowersandsapphires]

Comfort Headcanons for Frank, Matt, and Mikey

A/n: so I am ridiculously overwhelmed by personal and political stuff right now. And I told myself I was going to write every day this week if possible, but my brain was being difficult today. So instead of working on a longer fic I wrote some self-indulgent headcanons about Frank, Matt, and Mikey caring for an overwhelmed partner. I hope you all enjoy. Please feel free to send me other headcanon requests!

How would they’d react to you being overwhelmed

Frank

Frank would pick up on this IMMEDIATELY

the second your self care habits change, he’s onto you. You stay up later than normal two nights in a row, or run out the door with a granola bar instead of eating a real breakfast, and he is concerned™️

He’s willing to entertain it for three days max. He knows life gets tough sometimes, and he doesn’t want to encroach on your process—but we all know that once this man is worried, he’s minutes away from taking control. He has issues but we love him for it.

On the 4th day, when you’re waking up exhausted after far too little sleep and rejecting his offer to take you out for breakfast, he puts his foot down.

“Gonna order in for dinner tonight, ok? We can watch that movie you wanted to see and turn in early.”

You hastily agree, bolting out the door before you end up late to your job.

When you finally arrive home, he’s all over you in an instant. Murmuring his hellos while helping you out of your coat and shoes, ushering you over the couch.

He’s insisting that you sit in his lap while the two of you pick out dinner, offering suggestions for restaurants instead of leaving the choice open-ended. Given how tired and generally stressed you seem, he wants to take as much weight off your shoulders as possible.

Once dinner has been ordered, he tucks you close to his chest, practically burying you in a jumble of muscular limbs, humming appreciatively when you nuzzle further into his space. His hand is cupped around your nape, thumb gently brushing over your spine as you hunch toward him.

“Ready to talk about what’s botherin’ ya, doll?” The question leaves room to decline, but his stern tone suggests you choose to answer.

He listens carefully as you tell him what’s on your mind, brushing silent kisses against your forehead whenever your breath wavers around a stifled sob. His hands never move from your skin, cradling you to him like he’s trying to absorb your pain.

He wouldn’t let you lift a finger the rest of the night. Retrieving the take out, dishing it up for you, drawing you a bath, tucking you into bed

When you’re beginning to drift off atop his giant shoulder, he’d rest his forehead against yours.

“I know it’s tough right now. But we’ll get through. I promise.”

“Please don’t leave, Frank.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it, babydoll.”

Matt

Matt isn’t as observant of your habits and routines, but he can sure as hell pick up changes in body language.

Gritting teeth, blinking back tears, frustrated sighs—he notices all of it. He might not act on it immediately, brushing it off when you explain that you just had a bad day, but when your fatigue and growing apathy persist…

I think you hiding something from him would spook him for sure, but that doesn’t mean he wouldn’t be determined to get answers out of you. He’d set his personal anxieties aside and prepare for a serious talk.

He’d leave the office somewhat early, asking you to meet him at his apartment. He’d offer you a beer, or whatever you were in the mood for (if his lacking fridge and pantry allowed for it), and he’d ask you the big question.

“You aren’t yourself lately. What’s going on?”

He’s not happy when you start crying, but he’s definitely relieved when you collapse into his arms and explain your recent mood. Even more so when you confess it had nothing to do with him.

As always, he harbors immense guilt for not being there, not being endlessly supportive, not being able to solve the issues gnawing at you with his own two fists.

But what he doesn’t realize is that he’s helping just by being there. By being present and absentmindedly squeezing you with his tree-trunk arms. By acknowledging your struggles and offering what he could.

He’d cut his patrols short for a few days, nearly begging you to sleep at his loft instead of in your own bed, so he could keep a metaphorical eye on you. He sleeps better with you by his side anyway.

Mikey

You’re Michael’s whole world, so he’d know you were overwhelmed before you realized it yourself.

As soon as he spotted the stress lines on your face, he’d be on his feet, trying his best to lighten the burden.

He’d walk you to and from work, as always, maybe even stopping by to keep you company on your lunch hour.

When he wasn’t with you, or ignoring his family, he’d be constantly cleaning the house and working through your joint to do list, taking task after task off your plate so you could properly decompress.

He wouldn’t pressure you to talk to him about it, but he’d give you the option.

“I’m here if ya want to talk, pet. Anytime ya need.”

And, of course, you’d take him up on it. Explaining that you could handle everything and you didn’t want him to overwhelm himself trying to help you because it was just a pile of small things that were wearing you down. But he’d have none of it.

“I wanna do this fer ya. Let me help, love.”

He’d bundle you in a knit blanket on the couch and set the tv to your favorite show, kissing the top of your head before heading to the kitchen to clean up after dinner.

I hope you enjoyed! And I hope you’re all doing ok this week. It’s rough out there.

[boldchaoswhite]

𝐒𝐞𝐛𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐚𝐧 𝐒𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐨𝐰 𝐇𝐂𝐬

Hellos! Back at it again with some love for my Sebastian peoples! If you looking for the Ominis Gaunt HCs they here! Divider by: @adornedwithlight Enjoy!

In General:

Sebastian is the kind of person who would stand by you through thick and thin. He’s the first to defend you, whether it's against unfair professors, or judgmental peers.

He has a protective streak, but it's never overbearing. He trusts his partner to hold their own but always keeps an eye out, just in case.

Sebastian loves teasing you, especially when he knows it’ll make you smile. If you’re ever feeling down, he’ll pull out all the stops—bad jokes, exaggerated impressions of classmates, or silly faces behind Professor Sharp’s or any teacher's back.

Seeing you excel at something makes Sebastian absolutely beam with pride. Whether it’s a flawless potion, a jaw-dropping spell, or a perfect score in flying class, he’s your number one cheerleader.

He’s definitely the type to brag about you to anyone who’ll listen: “Did you see them out there? Absolutely brilliant!”

Sebastian thrives on a little friendly competition. He adores dueling with you, always pushing you to test your limits while trying (and sometimes failing) not to hold back.

If he loses, he’s a good sport—but he’ll definitely want a rematch. “Best two out of three, love?”

He loves little gestures, like sneaking you notes with charming scribbles or leaving flowers on your desk before class. He’ll deny it was him, but his smirk gives him away.

He’s a big fan of cozy library dates where you both “study,” though it often turns into him whispering stories and making excuses to lean closer to you.

Exploring the Forbidden Forest or sneaking into restricted areas of Hogwarts becomes ten times more fun with you. 

Despite his playful nature, Sebastian opens up deeply with you. He appreciates your ability to listen and offer advice, especially when he talks about his family or the struggles he faces.

 If someone compliments how well you two complement each other, he’ll beam and say, “That’s us—a dynamic duo.”

He’s the type to memorize all the little details about you—your favorite places, the way you take your tea, or the way your face lights up at certain spells. He uses this knowledge to make you feel special daily.

Sebastian finds it exciting and endearing when you take the reins, whether it’s planning a date, initiating a duel, or calling him out on his antics. He’d grin and say, “I don’t mind letting you take charge…this time.”

He’s fiercely proud of your accomplishments and doesn’t hold back in bragging about you to anyone who’ll listen.

If anyone speaks ill of you, he’s the first to step in, protective and fiery. He’s loyal to a fault and refuses to let anyone disrespect you.

Like him, you’d also have a protective instinct when it comes to his well-being, especially if he's putting himself in dangerous situations or not taking care of himself.

If you two ever argue, he’ll pace and brood for a while but always returns with an apology, doing whatever it takes to make things right.

Sebastian spends a good chunk of time agonizing over how to make it up to you. Should he bring you a gift? Write a letter? Apologize in person? He debates every option and inevitably decides he just needs to see you.

He’ll try his best not to make the same mistake twice. He knows his pride and impulsiveness can get the better of him, but he’s determined to grow for you.

Sebastian is the definition of a physical touch person. Whether it’s casual or intentional, he loves to be close to you in every way possible.

He’ll rest his chin on your shoulder while you’re reading or writing.

If you’re sitting on a couch or the grass, his head is absolutely in your lap. Bonus points if you play with his hair—it’s his favorite thing.

Loves putting an arm around your waist when standing near you, a quiet way of saying, “You’re mine.”

Constantly reaching for your hand (even if it’s just to hold it for a second while walking side by side.)

Sebastian has absolutely no shame when it comes to reaching over and snagging a bite of your meal or treat.

He grins at you with a playful “What? You weren’t going to finish it, were you?” even if you were clearly mid-bite

However, he’s the type to offer you the last bite of his food as a peace offering. He acts like it’s no big deal, but it secretly melts his heart when you accept it.

If you’re lounging together, Sebastian will drape himself over you like a blanket. He doesn’t care if it’s practical, he just wants to be close to you.

He’s the type to grumble if you need to get up for anything: “No, no, you’re not allowed to move. I’m comfortable.”

Whether it's a hand on his arm, a kiss on his cheek, or you curling up next to him on the couch, Sebastian loves it. He craves the closeness, even if he doesn’t always show it.

When he’s tired, Sebastian becomes even more affectionate, mumbling soft compliments into your ear and pulling you closer.

Sebastian has a knack for knowing your favorite treats and often sneaks some your way during breaks or after classes.

You’d tease him playfully, calling him out on his pride or over-the-top gestures, but you always make sure to remind him that you love him exactly as he is.

(Okie random little visual thing from a movie, remember that scene from Little Woman (2019) when Laurie gets Jo a drink of alcohol and he stands in front of her to make sure she isnt seen. That scene SCREAMS Sebastian to me…honestly multiple scenes in that movie reminds me of Sebastian.)

When Sebastian is jealous, at first, he tries to play it cool, but his body language gives him away. His jaw tightens, his arms cross, and his gaze sharpens a bit as he watches the situation unfold.

He’ll quietly assess the person causing his jealousy, as if measuring up to them. He’s confident, but he still wants to know what he’s “up against.”

He’ll turn up the charm and make sure you’re reminded of why he’s your guy. Whether it’s showcasing his talents in a duel, cracking a clever joke, or casually slipping an arm around your waist, he’s subtly saying, “They can’t compete with me.”

He’s fiercely loyal, and jealousy brings out his protective side. If someone is making you uncomfortable, he’s quick to step in.

While jealousy might spark a reaction, Sebastian would never try to control or stifle you. He respects you too much for that and trusts you deeply, even if he’s wary of others.

If you’re scared or shaken, he’ll soften completely. He’ll hold your face in his hands, his thumb brushing away any tears, and speak to you in a soothing voice.

He won’t leave your side, staying close enough that you can feel his warmth, as if his presence alone can protect you from anything else.

If you’re sick, Sebastian transforms into the most doting and attentive caretaker you could ask for. His usual mischievous energy is channeled into making sure you’re comfortable, well-cared for, and maybe even a little spoiled.

The moment he notices you're feeling unwell, he’s there, asking you if you need anything, his voice laced with worry. “What’s wrong? How do you feel? Do you need anything?”

Sebastian, despite his usual fierce nature, would likely try to make you a comforting meal or brew a healing potion. He may not be the best cook, but he’s definitely trying his best!

If he’s really stressed about you being sick, he might get a little moody, but only because he hates seeing you in pain. (Sulky Seb is funny to me XD)

You’d always be there for him, supporting him through his battles, whether it’s his internal struggles or external challenges.

You'd understand that he sometimes hides his vulnerability and encourage him to open up, assuring him it’s okay to lean on you.

You’d also be quite empathetic, recognizing when he’s bottling up his emotions or struggling internally. You’d always be there to gently coax him into talking about his feelings, ensuring he knows you’re not going anywhere.

You enjoy the playful side of your relationship with him, and it brings out a more lighthearted side of both of you.

Nicknames:

Sebastian has a talent for coming up with affectionate nicknames.

Love: His go-to when he’s feeling soft and romantic.

Sweetheart: Reserved for when he’s trying to comfort or cheer you up.

Starlight: A nod to your brilliance, whether in academics, magic, or just how much you light up his life.

Boss: When you take charge or get your way, he’ll smirk and say, “Alright, boss, what’s next?”

Shortcake: If you’re shorter than him, he’ll use this teasingly. Bonus points if you’re feisty about it.

Minx: If you’ve managed to outwit or distract him, he’ll say this with a smirk and a glint in his eye.

Princess/Prince: If he’s doting on you or spoiling you, he’ll call you this, sometimes sarcastically, sometimes genuinely.

My Dove: Reserved for private moments, when he’s feeling especially tender.

The Better Half: He’ll use this jokingly, but you can hear the sincerity in his voice.

Snacker: If he catches you sneaking food between classes, he’ll say this every time.

Firefly: If you’re glowing with excitement or passion about something, he’ll call you this.

Big FEELS:

When everything goes quiet and his thoughts are left to swirl around the painful memories, that’s when he can’t keep the walls up anymore. There are nights when he simply breaks down, overwhelmed by emotions he tries so hard to keep in check.

Even if he was completely alone, he’d try to stifle his sobs, not wanting to admit just how much he’s hurting inside. His tears would come in soft, quiet bursts, and sometimes it feels like he’s trying to “cry it out” in silence.

Sebastian would never admit that he needs comfort or help. He might brush off your concern with a quick joke or a sarcastic comment. But when you reach out to comfort him, to offer him a hug or just a hand to hold, it would be the thing that breaks him down.

There’s a part of him that’s convinced he doesn’t deserve to be happy. He’s made mistakes, and the weight of those mistakes hangs over him. His guilt is constant, and there are nights when it’s so overwhelming that he can’t ignore it anymore. Even if he’s surrounded by friends or loved ones, a deep, gnawing voice tells him that he’s unworthy of their care.

Slowly, he’ll let himself be vulnerable in front of you. He might not be able to speak the words at first, but his actions will show that he’s starting to trust you with the parts of him that scare him the most. He’ll allow you to hold him, touch him, and be there for him in a way that he’s never let anyone before.

He won’t ever want you to pity him, but knowing that you accept him fully—imperfections and all—will be something that deeply touches him.

When the pain of missing Anne becomes too overwhelming, Sebastian often withdraws into himself. He might go silent, retreating into his own thoughts, distancing himself from everything around him. His pride won’t allow him to show how deeply affected he is, so he’ll keep everything to himself, even if it’s slowly eating at him.

When the silence gets too much, he’ll be the type to walk around the castle at night, trying to clear his head, but it’s always there…

The guilt he feels over not being able to protect Anne, especially when her condition worsens, is crushing. He constantly blames himself for not finding a way to cure her, not being strong enough to stop whatever happened. Even though he tries to push these thoughts away, they linger, festering in the back of his mind.

On the surface, Sebastian might act like he’s fine, but inside, he’s constantly at war with himself. He’s angry at the world for being so unfair, at himself for being helpless, and at the helplessness he feels every time he looks at Anne’s condition.

He is short-tempered or moody, especially when people ask about his sister or bring up anything remotely related to her.

Sebastian doesn’t need words to feel comforted. When he misses Anne, he needs quiet reassurance. He needs someone who will just be there with him, not forcing him to talk but offering a presence that lets him feel understood.

If you’re aware that he’s struggling with the weight of missing Anne, you might find ways to show him you’re there without pushing him too hard. Maybe you sit beside him in silence, offering a gentle touch or a soft hand on his back, allowing him to lean into you if he needs to. 

 You might tell him, “I’m here. Whenever you need me.” It’s a simple statement, but to him, it’s a promise that someone will always be by his side.

Despite how much he misses Anne and how emotionally vulnerable he feels, Sebastian’s instinct to protect those he cares about is powerful. If you notice that he’s struggling or offering more intense gestures of affection or protectiveness, he’s silently asking for your patience.

like as last time i said: If I think of more ill post them here, hope you enjoyed! Love you all~! If you looking for the Ominis Gaunt HCs they here!

[sweetdreamscabot]

LOST AND FOUND LOVE - E. PRENTISS

ִ ࣪𖤐.ᐟ EMILY PRENTISS x FEMALE READER ִ ࣪𖤐.ᐟ

When a new lead surfaces on an old kidnapping case, you, an FBI profiler are stunned to discover it’s about your missing daughter, Ella, who was abducted from a park four years ago. With her girlfriend and co-worker, Emily Prentiss, by her side, you dive into the reopened investigation.

Requested by the lovely @lucreziaq2001 <3

TW: mention of child kidnapping.

PART ONE

You had first met Emily under the bright, sterile lights of the BAU conference room. You were the newest addition to the team, plucked from a field office after a particularly gruelling child abduction case which hit too close for home. The unit had been a dream assignment - your chance to make a real difference - but on that first day, nerves had almost gotten the better of you.

Emily had been the one to ease your tension. She’d greeted you with a warm smile that lit up her otherwise composed face, extending a hand with quiet confidence. “You must be Agent Y/L/N. I’m Emily Prentiss. Welcome to the team.” Her voice had been smooth, her tone rich with sincerity, and for a moment, you forgot to be nervous.

That first interaction set the tone for your relationship. Emily had a way of making you feel seen, even in a room full of brilliant minds. She’d noticed the way you stayed late, poring over case files with dogged determination. When you quietly excused yourself during a particularly graphic case briefing, it was Emily who found you in the break room, handing you a cup of coffee and sitting beside you without asking questions. Her silence had been comforting, a subtle reassurance that you weren’t alone in your struggle.

Over time, your professional relationship evolved into a tentative friendship. Late nights in the bullpen turned into shared dinners at the diner down the street. She learned about your love of mystery novels, your tendency to stress-clean, and your carefully guarded sense of humour. You, in turn, discovered her appreciation for indie films, her guilty pleasure for bad reality TV, and the depth of her loyalty to the people she cared about.

It was during one of those quiet nights at the diner that you first opened up about Ella. You’d been staring at your half-eaten slice of pie, the words spilling out in fits and starts - how your daughter had been taken four years ago, how every lead had gone cold, how you carried the crushing guilt of not being able to protect her. Emily hadn’t said much, but her hand had reached across the table to cover yours, her grip firm and steady.

“I can’t imagine how hard that must be,” she’d said softly, her dark eyes filled with empathy. “But you don’t have to carry it alone. Not anymore.”

That moment had shifted something between you. Emily became more than just a colleague or a friend. She became your rock, the person you turned to when the weight of your grief threatened to pull you under.

Now, standing in Hotch’s office, that grief came rushing back with a force that left you breathless. The photograph in your hands was grainy, but there was no mistaking the little girl with the bright blue eyes and curly hair. It was Ella, older than when you’d last seen her but unmistakably your daughter.

“Y/N?” Hotch’s voice was measured, calm in the face of your obvious distress.

⊹₊ ˚‧︵‿₊୨୧₊‿︵‧ ˚ ₊⊹

The park had been your sanctuary that day, a rare moment of peace in the chaos of early motherhood. You could still remember the warmth of the sun on your skin, the way the light danced through the canopy of trees. The air smelled faintly of freshly cut grass, and children’s laughter rang out like music, blending with the rhythmic squeak of swings and the faint chatter of other parents.

Ella had been in her stroller, bundled in a soft pink blanket despite the mild temperature. Her tiny hands occasionally wriggled free to grasp at the air, and her wide eyes, so big, so curious, darted around, taking in the colours and sounds of the world around her. She had your nose, people always said, but the dimpled smile that lit up her face whenever you cooed at her? That was all her father’s.

You had been so happy that morning. For once, Ella hadn’t been fussy, and it felt like maybe, just maybe, you were getting the hang of this whole parenting thing.

You were seated on a bench, her stroller parked just beside you, close enough that you could see the rise and fall of her tiny chest. When she made a soft, impatient noise, you laughed lightly, fishing through the diaper bag at your feet for her bottle.

“I know, sweetheart, I know,” you murmured, glancing toward her with a smile.

She made a happy gurgling sound in response, her tiny legs kicking beneath the blanket.

The bottle wasn’t where you thought it would be, and you muttered a quiet curse under your breath, crouching down to dig deeper. Your fingers brushed against a pacifier, a stray toy, wipes—everything but the bottle.

Finally, you spotted it near the bottom of the bag, half-hidden beneath a folded onesie. You grabbed it triumphantly and straightened up, prepared to see her wide eyes waiting for you, that gurgling laugh ready to bubble out.

But she wasn’t there.

The stroller was empty.

For a second, your brain couldn’t process what you were seeing. You blinked, frozen, as if you’d miscounted the seconds or misjudged the angle.

“Ella?” Your voice came out soft, questioning, your smile faltering.

Your eyes darted to the ground, half-expecting to see her somehow wiggled out of her straps, crawling just beyond the stroller. But there was no movement. No sound.

“Ella?” This time, your voice cracked as panic clawed its way up your throat.

You stood quickly, knocking the diaper bag to the ground. Your eyes scanned the park, wildly darting from the swings to the slides, to the clumps of children laughing and playing. Nothing.

She couldn’t have gone far. She was only four months old. She didn’t even crawl yet. Someone must have seen something.

“Ella!” You were shouting now, the sound raw and desperate. You darted toward the nearest group of parents, your heart hammering so loudly in your chest that it drowned out everything else.

“Have you seen my baby?” you pleaded, your voice frantic as you approached a woman sitting on the grass with her toddler. “She was just here - in her stroller - I just looked away for a second -...”

The woman’s face filled with concern, but she shook her head helplessly. “I’m sorry, I didn’t see anything.”

Tears burned your eyes as you stumbled back toward the stroller, your legs weak and trembling. Your hands gripped the handlebar so tightly your knuckles turned white, but the sight of it sitting there, empty, only made your stomach twist.

The blanket was still draped across the seat. One of Ella’s toys dangled from the side, swinging gently in the breeze as if mocking you.

Where was she? Where was your baby?

“Help!” you screamed, your voice cracking as you turned toward the other parents and children. “Someone took my baby! Please, help me!”

The world became a blur after that. People rushed toward you, their voices overlapping in a cacophony of questions and concern. A man in a baseball cap offered to search the surrounding area. A mother tried to comfort you, placing a hand on your shoulder, but her touch only made you flinch.

You stumbled toward the nearest path, your legs moving on their own as you shouted Ella’s name over and over again.

It wasn’t until you reached the edge of the park - where a maintenance worker had stopped to pick up litter - that you spotted something. The stroller’s safety strap, the one you always looped around your wrist, lay discarded on the ground near the bushes.

You fell to your knees, sobbing uncontrollably as you clutched the strap in your hands. Your mind screamed at you to stand, to keep searching, but your body refused to move.

She was gone.

Ella was gone.

You never saw the man who took her. The surveillance footage from the nearby street later showed a figure - tall, hooded, unrecognizable - pushing the stroller away at an angle that avoided every camera. The authorities assured you they would do everything in their power to find her, but days turned into weeks, and weeks turned into months.

And now, four years later, the sound of her name still echoed in your mind, alongside the crushing weight of that moment when you realized your world had shattered.

⊹₊ ˚‧︵‿₊୨୧₊‿︵‧ ˚ ₊⊹

“Y/N.”

Emily’s voice sliced through the haze of your memory, grounding you like an anchor in a raging storm. It was soft, but firm, carrying the kind of steady reassurance you’d come to rely on.

You gasped sharply as the present came rushing back. Your chest heaved, your breath hitching in uneven bursts as you stared down at the photograph of Ella in your trembling hands. The edges of the picture crinkled slightly under your grip, but you couldn’t bring yourself to loosen it.

Her face was just as you remembered—those wide, curious eyes that always seemed to hold wonder, the faint dimple on her cheek that appeared whenever she smiled. But this wasn’t the tiny baby you had lost. This was a little girl now, her features sharper, her hair longer. Time had carried her forward without you, and the ache in your chest was almost unbearable.

You felt like the floor had been ripped out from under you, leaving you suspended in a free fall of emotions. A mixture of disbelief, hope, and terror churned in your gut, making it hard to focus.

“Where did you get this?” you demanded, your voice raw and breaking as tears spilled freely down your face. You barely recognized the sound of it, shaking with desperation and fear.

Hotch’s eyes softened, his usually stoic demeanor giving way to quiet understanding. He stepped around the desk, keeping his movements measured and deliberate, as if afraid to startle you further.

“Y/N,” he said gently, gesturing toward the chair behind you. “Sit down. Please.”

You shook your head violently, the thought of sitting still unbearable. The photograph was trembling in your hands, your knuckles white from the force of your grip.

“Just tell me,” you choked out, your voice breaking. “Where did you get this? How do you have this?”

Hotch exhaled slowly, his hands lowering to his sides as he softened his tone even further. “A lead came in late last night,” he explained. “A couple has been raising a child who matches Ella’s description ; her age, her appearance. The details are still coming together, but it was enough for the local team handling the case to send this over for confirmation.”

The room tilted, and for a moment, you were sure you might collapse. Your vision blurred, a ringing sound building in your ears as the weight of his words sank in. After all this time - after four years - someone had finally found a thread to pull.

Emily was at your side in an instant. Her arm slipped around your shoulders, steadying you as she guided you gently but firmly toward the chair. You sank into it without thinking, your legs too weak to hold you up any longer.

“Breathe, Y/N,” Emily said softly, crouching in front of you so she was at eye level. Her dark eyes, always so calm and unflinching, held yours with an intensity that was both grounding and comforting. “Look at me. Just breathe.”

You tried to follow her lead, forcing yourself to inhale deeply despite the tightness in your chest. Each breath felt like a battle, but Emily didn’t let go of you. Her hands were on your arms now, her touch warm and reassuring, like an anchor keeping you from slipping into the void.

“She’s alive,” you whispered, barely able to form the words. Saying them out loud felt dangerous, like it might shatter the fragile hope that was starting to bloom in your chest.

Emily’s grip on your arms tightened slightly, her steady gaze never wavering. “We’ll find her,” she said, her voice low but filled with unwavering certainty. “Do you hear me, Y/N? We’ll find her. We’ll bring her home.”

Her words hit you like a lifeline, the strength of her conviction pulling you back from the edge. You nodded, though the tears still streamed freely down your face, soaking into the edges of the photo.

“Emily…” Your voice cracked as you looked at her, overwhelmed by everything, by the pain, by the hope, and by the sheer terror of allowing yourself to believe.

“I’m here,” she said immediately, her hands sliding down to yours, her thumbs brushing lightly against your knuckles. “You’re not alone in this. We’ll do this together.”

For a long moment, the only sound in the room was your uneven breathing. The photo of Ella remained clutched tightly in your hands, a tangible connection to the daughter you’d never stopped loving, never stopped searching for in your heart.

And for the first time in four long years, the tiniest spark of hope flickered to life inside you. Fragile and delicate, but there.

Maybe - just maybe - Ella was waiting for you to find her. And this time, you wouldn’t stop until you did.

FIND PART TWO: HERE

[siriuslysapphicmoony]

First dance — word count: 809

tw: references to period typical homophobia

@wolfstarmicrofic

Sirius is the person who cries the most at the Potters’ wedding. More than Euphemia, more than Lily’s mum, more than Mary, even more than James.

And yes, it’s because they're perfect for each other, it's because they're so happy they're glowing, it's because there’s a war going on and this is a very much needed reminder that good things exist as well.

Sirius is sobbing because of all of that, but there's also the other reason. The one he can't even fathom saying out loud.

See, the moment his sobs are at their worst is not when his sight is on the happy couple. Sirius sobs the hardest each time his gaze finds Remus.

It's a kind of sorrow that is hard to describe, that one can only understand if they experience it themselves.

It's that excruciating, all consuming longing, of craving the same thing for himself and the person that is currently sniffing at his side, trying his hardest to hold back tears.

It's that harrowing, loud void that had taken place in his chest the moment he had realised (when James had proposed to Lily) that the only reason he had ever thought he hated the mere concept of marriage had been because of what it meant for his family. It's the sudden, startling realisation that he would absolutely love the idea of marriage if it was something he could have with the person currently standing by his side.

“Do not despair, sweetheart. He's just getting married, you're still his platonic soulmate.”

Remus’ joking attempt at soothing him sends him over the edge all over again and more sobs break through.

Great, now all those attending the wedding will know he's not as badass as he wants them to believe. How is he ever going to survive that?

“‘s not that,” he mumbles anyway between sniffs.

He feels Remus’ hand graze softly against his. Sirius grabs it like an anchor. Not caring about who might see, what might they think. He doesn't care. There's so much he isn't allowed. He at least gets to have this.

By the time the first dance comes around, Sirius has recovered just enough. He has fixed his eyeliner and he's determined not to cry anymore.

Then James and Lily step on the dancefloor, they swirl to their favourite song and Sirius is once again ruined.

He can't help the sob that escapes him. The unreasonable grief where there should only be joy for his friends.

His mind goes miles away. He imagines himself slow dancing with Remus, at their own wedding, at their own first dance, surrounded by their friends and families, celebrating their love. And he wants it. He craves it. Oh, he so desperately wants it.

Remus is at his side once again and this time he's the one silently reaching out, subtly embracing him, surely thinking he can pass it off as a friendly embrace.

“Are you alright, love?” he asks in his deep, concerned voice.

Sirius considers lying, but opts for the truth. He shakes his head meekly, another sob shaking him.

“I want this, Remus,” he confesses. “I hadn't fully realised it until today, but I want this. All of this. Marriage, a house, kids. I want the whole deal.”

Remus frowns a bit. “What are you saying…?” And damn, he looks scared now. He thinks Sirius wants to leave him for a traditional marriage.

“No, silly,” he sobs once more, a breathy laugh escaping him at the absurdity, a sad smile on his lips. “I don't mean it like that. I want it with you, but we aren't allowed and it's bloody destroying me.”

“Oh.”

It's almost comical to see all of the emotions that go through Remus' face. It goes from surprise, to adoration, to sadness and everything in between.

“I love you so much, Sirius,” he vows, gaze focused on him, the rest of the world forgotten. “Me too,” is what he says next. “I also want it all. With you.”

And that's the saddest thing, isn't it? They want the same thing for each other and yet they live in a world that won't let them have it. It's a crushing realisation. Discovering something you've known all along, but have never fully realised the whole weight of it, just how much it defines your life, that something someone has arbitrarily decided long ago has the power to determine the whole course of your lives. It's painful, it's unfair, it's soul-sucking, it's enraging, it's rubbish.

For how powerful his magic is, he feels completely powerless in front of the way the rest of the world sees their love. All he can do is hold on to Remus and silently promise himself that he'll do everything in his power to get them what so many couples have the luxury of taking for granted.

[buubonita]

What do you think the bad sanses love languages are? Like physical touch, gift giving, etc

Well this is a hard one to define. Mainly because it will be an answer based on what I understand of the characters and not so much if it is canon appropriate or not.

But canon doesn't matter.

BSP displays of affection, do you mean between them or towards each other? I still can't figure out how they work together. So I'll talk in general.

I think Killer has no idea what it is to give affection. And if he does, his ideas must be distorted by his own experiences. The closest thing to a display of affection he could have is to warn others from the knowledge he has about his environment and the people around him if that can avoid an unpleasant moment (I go back to that post where I said he would advise Dust and Horror about Nightmare and when or how to handle him)

I don't see either of them being physically affectionate. Killer touches others as a method of keeping himself grounded rather than with a good intention. I'd say it depends on the state of his soul but I'm not sure either (state 3 and 4 seem to be prone to extreme violence and 1 is the full awareness of guilt eating away at the poor guy)

Killer doesn't have the best references when it comes to giving affection either. If we think of a setup where Murder and Horror are there as "toys" that Nightmare gave to Killer, I can see him translating Nightmare's behaviors to the two of them.

Though who knows, maybe he can learn a thing or two from the right person.

Murder and Horror seem to be the most willing to do something terrible in the name of those they love the most.

Horror doesn't seem like the gushing type at all, Sans didn't usually be either but he showed his affection for his brother in small gestures (reading to him before bed, helping him make costumes for his party, peeling an apple for him) so I think he would follow that same pattern of doing small things, niceties to take care of who he cares about. Maybe he knows Dust has a favorite color and gives him a gift of that color, or maybe he lets Killer name his weapons and addresses them that way.

Small nonsense but it makes it known that he is there.

What I do see as a form of affection, and partly because his memory fails, is that Horror gives nicknames to the people he hangs out with. The more nicknames, the more dear they are to him.

I also don't see him touching anyone so openly. Maybe on rare occasions and they are simple touches like punches or pats.

However, he is not above hurting or simply ignoring their personal desires and convictions. He fed his brother human flesh despite Papyrus telling him he didn't want to, he lied to the entire town about a new policy because he didn't want to take responsibility for things getting screwed up because of him, and he condemned his friends (although he is not the only one to blame) to a screwed up life.

Nightmare.

All of Nightmare's "displays of affection" lead to violence. Nightmare can't feel healthy affection for anyone in his corrupted state. I think even if he wanted to love someone, he'd end up hurting them.

I've said this before, but Nightmare would definitely compliment anyone in the group while they're dying because he finds their pain "too irresistible."

Becoming the object of Nightmare's affection only brings more pain unfortunately.

In a healthy version it's even hard to determine, because the best mercy Nightmare could give the MTT is to let them go. While some like to explore the idea of ​​Nightmare striving to improve, I personally like that but it also depends on how heinous Nightmare's actions have been and trying to determine if it makes sense for the rest of the MTT to trust his promise of wanting to change for the better.

If he did change for the better, their relationship wouldn't stop being complicated. There are no perfect relationships, there will always be instances of tension between parties even in the best of times and it's a matter of everyone involved doing their part to make it work. Relationships are not one-sided and one person cannot and does not have to bear all the responsibility.

It would be nice to see, if Nightmare were to redeem himself, teach others to better manage their "negative" emotions in less destructive and healthier ways. And above all learn to respect everyone's personal boundaries.

Nightmare would be fine with physical contact if he was the one to initiate it, I think. He would have to trust someone a lot to let them touch him and it wouldn't last long.

And lastly there's Dust.

I really like the idea that Dust writes. He doesn't know how to voice his feelings very well so he's better at writing them down. Maybe little notes left in the space of the people he cares about, even if they're just loose sentences, it doesn't take a lot of words to express great things when it comes to feelings.

And sometimes saying I love you feels like an impossible feat or something sacred that not many feel ready for.

Dust and physical contact don't get along very well either, but I like to think that sometimes he would initiate contact, leaning on his companions to make himself noticed and know that he is there.

I hope this satisfies you, anon! Thank you for your ask, i have fun braining all this.

[tigreblvnc]

BLUE LOCK MATCHUP EXCHANGE — @kittywhoo

Your match is...

— Chigiri Hyoma

✦ It was a match I didn't see coming!

✦ At first, I thought of a particular character, but they were on your no-no list.

✦ So my second choice was split between two other characters. I'll talk about them at the end of your match.

✦ The result: I don't often match the red panther, but I think he's a very good fit for you.

✦ He shares several common traits. The first being a strong appreciation for beautiful things, finery, determination, and then injury, which we'll also revisit.

✦ "I like it when people are smart, or when people are good things wether i be naturally or from practice. I dont like simple minding people, i cant keep a conversation engaging with them. I like people who i can have a light banter with! Id like my partner to be competitive (to an extent)" This paragraph 100% screams Chigiri—he's clever, capable of dramatic turnarounds on the field, and above all, he's repeatedly proven that even a knee injury won't stop him from becoming world number one, showing the phases of success, downfall, despair, resignation, recovery, and breakthrough. If I quote the Egoist Bible: "He thinks his strong point is that he's proactive when it comes to things he likes or wants to do." Which 100% matches your energy.

✦ Chigiri is also known for his sarcastic tone and the jabs he throws at his opponents on the field. That said, he knows how to stay calm, even composed, when the situation demands it, putting other people's thoughts back in order. I can see him being the type who lets your anger explode without flinching, then helps you calm down by reasoning with simple but concrete arguments.

✦ He helps you channel your anger into energy to reach your goals. One of his love languages for me is 100% quality time: he'll spend time with you when he senses you need it, even if you haven't asked for it. He's particularly good at picking up on signs and gathering clues to understand when you need company or need time for yourself.

✦ He's someone you can reveal all your different sides to without any judgment. He has a certain sensitivity, be it artistic or emotional. Having gone through a few difficult trials himself, he understands your moments of doubt or emotional lows with ease.

✦ Totally the type to think about buying you a little trinket on his way home from work. I don't see him being too forward though—he'll just push the wrapped gift towards you with averted eyes.

✦ "Here, this made me think of you."

✦ Shopping trips together, what else? You'll spend your entire Saturday afternoon doing that. He likes to stop by the bookstore to search for the latest trendy novels or niche literature.

✦ One of the things he likes most about you is your ability to face adversity head-on. It's actually inspiring to him. You're on the same wavelength, and I can see you both spending hours complaining together about people you can't stand.

✦ When it comes to showing affection, if you're more direct and demonstrative, for him it's more subtle—through small acts of care or when he tries to make something annoying in your daily life easier. His second love language is definitely words of affirmation; he knows just the right words to uplift you and help you stay strong when you're going through a rough patch.

✦ I also think this is the love language he enjoys receiving. Chigiri really doesn't like showing his weaknesses in public; he'd only share his feelings with someone he trusts. No need to add that you are that person, and he even tells you about his dreams from the previous night. Sometimes, you both push back your bedtimes because you're talking non-stop.

✦ 100% the type to handle the boring household chores to lighten your load.

✦ Of course, he'll pretend it's nothing when you come home, reading a book in the living room.

✦ "I dislike it when people are unhygienic." I think Chigiri is one of the cleanest characters in the Blue Lock roster—he enjoys perfuming the room and combing his hair after a shower. Count on him for a well-kept house and nice decoration. He's possibly one of the characters with the greatest artistic sensibility and the most care for his appearance. Just for the sake of the quote: "The first thing he washes when in the bath is his forehead to avoid getting pimples there." and we can't forget about this one: "He spends his days off reading, taking long baths, and caring for his body."

✦ Also, for me, Chigiri is a very respectful guy off the field, polite, and speaks kindly to those who aren't trying to start trouble. I think he's the type of boyfriend that parents love to meet and get to know.

✦ One day, he teaches you how to play soccer with him, and don't worry—he won't pretend to go easy on you.

✦ In the evening, I can totally picture you two trying out trendy new cafes that just opened and chatting about your respective days over tea. Among all the characters in Blue Lock, I find Chigiri to be one of the few who can hold deep conversations on topics other than soccer. He has a very calm and attentive side that he allows himself when he's not on the field, and he dedicates that time to support you in your goals. In fact, he really admires your strength of character and your ability to push forward.

✦ Overall, you complement each other well while intellectually stimulating each other. Chigiri can be someone who's irritated and quick-witted, so hard to reason with, but as I've mentioned earlier, you're there to help him calm down. I don't see you both getting angry at the same time; more likely, you’d be the calm one to help soothe the other during a tough moment.

✦ He's totally the type to accompany you skiing, and I can see him snowboarding. About your ski injury, it immediately made me think of Chigiri and his soccer injury. I'm sure, in this regard, you both understand exactly how the other feels.

✦ And because it makes me think of a chalet during the cold season, Chigiri is totally the type to prepare the house for your arrival in the evening, with candles, ambiance scents, and a healthy meal he's cooked himself. All of this in front of a cozy fireplace with a good book on his lap.

✦ A final quote that makes me think of you both: "His favorite season is winter because he enjoys drinking tea and eating sweets while sitting under a kotatsu."

A word about your match: As I mentioned, I had thought of another character—two other characters, actually. The first being Yukimiya, who, reasonably, would be perfect to balance out your tendencies toward anger. The second was Hiori, who has a similar calm and observant temperament to Yukimiya. But I feel like he lacks the sharp wit that Chigiri has, in addition to having the traits you like in someone: ambition and a sense of aesthetics. I hope you liked this match, and thank you for reaching out to me for this matchup exchange!

© TIGREBLVNC 2025 | INTERESTED IN A MATCHUP EXCHANGE? CHECK THIS.

[kikyoupdates]

Changing Plotlines ⭑˚💞⭑ 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑝𝑟𝑜𝑡𝑎𝑔𝑜𝑛𝑖𝑠𝑡'𝑠 𝑎𝑟𝑟𝑖𝑣𝑎𝑙

yandere!ocs x f!reader

yandere, reverse harem, yandere reverse harem, original characters x fem!reader, slowburn, isekai

A desperate cry on your deathbed leads to you being given a fresh start at life. You're overjoyed at having finally obtained a healthy body and a real chance at living normally, only to discover that you've been transported into a yandere game, where danger lurks at every corner. Determined to protect your new life at any cost, you vow to stay as far away from the major characters of the game as possible. But things don't always go as planned.

previous | story masterlist | next

So far, you’d already met two of the yanderes. You weren’t entirely sure how that had happened, especially when you were so resolved to stay away from them, but given how brief your interactions had been, you were fairly certain that they would have already forgotten about you. Everything was okay. Again, as long as you made sure not to needlessly interfere with the main plot, to them, you would be nothing more than a passerby. A side character. An extra.

I never realized how stressful it would be to deliberately not stand out.

You were especially on edge because you’d been recently informed that your classes were starting soon, which meant that it was only a matter of time before the protagonist made her appearance. It was all happening a lot faster than you’d expected. You’d been hoping you would have a bigger buffer before all the shit started to go down.

But all of this was still manageable. Just avoid getting in the way of the yanderes as they sought the protagonist’s hand, and you were as good as gold.

“Going to school for a change will be fun,” you hummed aloud, taking your time as you prepared a satchel full of belongings. Just the usual school supplies. Some notebooks, pencils, pens, a knife... really, nothing out of the ordinary.

It was obviously impossible to completely push the issue of the dangerous plot out of your mind, but it wasn’t as if that was all this world had to offer. You were perfectly healthy now, something that you couldn’t have imagined in your wildest dreams. There were so many things that you would finally be able to enjoy, like the average person. Instead of focusing on the negatives, you were going to try and look forward to the positives.

A knock on the door roused you from your reverie. You turned to find Lizbell cautiously peering into the room, while holding a cup of tea on a small plate.

“Would you care for a warm beverage?” she asked you.

“Oh, yes please. Is this the same tea I had last time?”

“Why, of course. It’s your favorite, my lady.”

She smiled and walked over to hand the tea off. The “you” from this alternate game universe really was a carbon copy of who you’d been in your previous life. You had all the same interests, the same personality, even the same preferences when it came to food and drinks. It was strange how you’d been transmigrated so perfectly into a world where you’d never even existed to begin with.

You blew on the surface of the tea, then slowly took a sip.

I really am curious about how all of this even happened. Well, not that I’m complaining. It’s infinitely better than being dead.

Lizbell tilted her head, her gaze panning down to the satchel overturned on its side, with some of the objects peeking out of it. “What have you got there, my lady?”

“Hm? Ah, nothing much. Just some things to bring along with me to the academy.”

“The bag looks to be quite full,” she frowned. “You’ll strain your shoulders if you’re carrying something so heavy all day. Are you sure you need all of this?”

“Lizbell, wait—”

Before you could stop her, she’d already lifted the satchel up, and several of the items came tumbling out.

Lizbell’s expression turned to one of pure horror. “Lady [Name], what in Zodin’s name are you doing with a knife?”

“I can explain,” you began.

“No, I’m not sure you can!” she fumed. “Bringing a weapon to school? Absolutely preposterous! Not to mention that you could hurt yourself!”

“It’s, er, just in case of an emergency...?”

She grabbed the knife in a hurry. “I’m confiscating this.”

“What, no! You can’t!”

“I can, and I will.” She paused to raise her brow a hair. “Unless you’d prefer that I speak about this matter with your parents?”

You slumped your shoulders, defeated. “Ugh. Fine, take it away.”

I can just sneak another one tomorrow morning.

“And I’ll be patting you down tomorrow morning so that you don’t get any funny ideas,” she warned.

Goddammit.

“My word,” Lizbell huffed, angrily storming out the room, “you’re going to be death of me one of these days.”

You sipped at the rest of your tea, a touch irritated. Granted, bringing a knife to school probably wasn’t the best idea, but you just felt better knowing that you had some sort of weapon to protect yourself with. But the plot hadn’t even begun yet, and the yanderes didn’t begin exhibiting dangerous tendencies right off the bat, so perhaps you were jumping the gun a bit. First days at school tended to be rather boring anyways. This wasn’t a movie, or some sort of novel.

Yeah, you’d be just fine.

This is actually really exciting. I’m fangirling a bit.

It was one thing to be able to attend school normally without being crippled by your health—which you were immensely grateful for—but it was even more incredible to be able to take part in a universe that you’d once believed to be purely fictional. You’d gone from being nothing more than a player who could make a few limited choices on behalf of the protagonist, to actively participating and having complete control over your actions.

You had to admit, this situation was pretty freaking cool.

Currently, you were standing at the gates of Zodite’s finest institution, the renowned Central Academy. And boy, oh boy, was it intimidating. The colleges and universities from your previous world were arguably bigger, some of the campuses even being referred to as “tiny cities”. But what Central Academy lacked in sheer size, it more than made up for in extravagance. Seriously, you knew that you were technically rich in this world, but everything here looked so ridiculously bourgeoisie that you couldn’t help but feel out of place.

“I’m not used to being one of the elites,” you whined hopelessly. A random student passed by while you were talking to yourself, and they gave you a scathing, judgmental look. A bit rude, but you were admittedly acting a little weird right now, oohing and awing at everything you saw.

Anyways, you were here now, but you didn’t have a clue where your classes were, or how you were meant to find your way around campus. Lizbell had provided you with a list of the classes that the previous “you” of this world had apparently enrolled in, so you were just going to have to use your best judgment in finding the buildings, and then perhaps go by process of elimination. You’d never attended college before, but in the movies, everyone always got lost on their first day. Which is exactly why you’d arrived with ample time to spare.

Feeling optimistic, you walked past the front gates and officially made your way onto academy grounds. It was nowhere near as busy as what you’d expect from a modern-day college campus, but things were lively enough in their own way. Central Academy was an academy restricted specifically to the upper class, which meant that everywhere you looked, nobles of some reputable pedigree were walking about. Some were alone, others still were with friends or colleagues. You sort of wished you had a friend of your own to walk with. Close friendships were another thing you’d lacked back in your previous life. It sucked, but most people weren’t selfless enough to be tied down to someone who was sickly and frail, who couldn’t participate in most activities, especially in the so-called “golden years” of a young adult.

Maybe I can finally make a really good friend here.

You were hopeful. Unordinary circumstances aside, this was the sort of life you could only ever dream of having before. It was best to enjoy every moment.

Although you were still unsure as to where your classes were located, you couldn’t quite seem to wipe the grin plastered across your face. Today was going to be great. You were going to make it great. There was absolutely nothing that could stop you from finally enjoying the campus experience you’d always wished for.

Until you saw her. The protagonist of Zodin’s Benevolence, Flora Tillberry.

“Fuck!” you cursed aloud, immediately ducking behind a bush. You weren’t entirely sure why you were hiding, especially since she had no real reason to walk over and talk to you. It was probably your fight-or-flight mode kicking in. You instinctively knew that wherever Flora was, danger followed.

You felt a bit bad for having such a visceral reaction to Flora. After all, it wasn’t as if she was to blame for any of this, and she was so sweet and innocent-looking—cute as a button, really. If not for the unfortunate fate that awaited her, she was undoubtedly someone you would’ve liked to befriend.

But you had no choice. Avoiding her was the best way to guarantee your safety. You had to completely cast aside any potential guilt you had surrounding her unfortunate circumstances and focus purely on yourself.

If she’s here, then that means the plot has officially been set in motion.

It was okay. You’d been prepared for this from the very start. No matter what, the story would unfold just like it always did, and you would be none the wiser to it.

You held your position for a while, waiting to make sure that she left. You didn’t want to allow any accidents to occur, whether it meant her accidentally stumbling into you or even stopping to ask you for directions. As far as she was concerned, you didn’t exist.

“What on earth are you doing?”

A familiar voice. Why was that voice so familiar?

You turned, dread gradually washing over you. No fucking way. Was this seriously happening for a third time already?!

No matter how much you wanted to believe you were dreaming, there was no mistaking that it was him, Cassius. Staring down at you with heavy judgment as you hid like an idiot, with your butt sticking up in the air.

You gritted your teeth. This was seriously impossible. You were starting to believe that maybe your choices weren’t your own after all, and someone was getting a kick out of toying with your emotions.

Well, just perfect. You’d managed to avoid one of the key characters of the game and ended up running right into a different one. Actually, come to think of it, Cassius was the first yandere that Flora ever met, and their meeting took place right here, on the first day of classes. Had you unwittingly distracted him with your stupidity and prevented their crucial interaction from taking place?

If so, then... fuck.

Why am I the way that I am?

You didn’t have time to berate yourself for too long, since he was staring pointedly at you and clearly waiting for some sort of answer.

“I, uh, rolled my ankle,” you said quickly, then proceeded to grip at the ankle in question. “O-Ouch! That really hurts! Anyways, yeah... I kind of just needed to stop and take a break. It’s probably going to feel better soon though, so I should get going.”

You stood up and did a rather pathetic job of pretending to limp. Cassius didn’t look like he was buying it.

He rolled his eyes at you. “Do you take me for a fool? It seemed like you were spying on someone, what with that suspicious expression on your face. Whoever it is you’re looking out for, I’d just like to let you know that you’re doing a terrible job of it. I wouldn’t be surprised if you’d already been discovered.”

“Thank you very much for your input,” you gritted out insincerely. “But please, don’t let me take up too much of your time. I know you’re a very busy man.”

Now, you were definitely ready to get out of here. It was okay. The situation was still salvageable. Granted, he’d caught you in a bit of an awkward position and you’d impeded his first interaction with Flora, but you were sure the plot would find some way to set itself back on track. This was really no big deal. He clearly thought you were a bit strange, but he’d walk away soon enough and think no more of it.

Except Cassius didn’t walk away. Instead, he continued to stare at you, with eyes widening as though something had just dawned on him. “Wait a second... I remember you now. You’re that same rude woman who ran into me in town that day. For crying out loud,” he sighed, shaking his head disappointedly. “Your parents must have done a terrible job of raising you, seeing as you have no manners.”

I beg your fucking pardon?

This struck a nerve with you, because even in your previous world, your parents had only ever been lovely, supportive people. They’d gone through hell because of the weak constitution you’d been cursed with, but not once had they ever taken out their frustrations on you or tried to make you feel guilty about it in any way.

You were so riled up, in fact, that without thinking it through, you snapped at him.

“Don’t speak ill of my parents,” you glared. “You have no idea how much they’ve endured.”

It only took a moment for pure, unfiltered shock to color Cassius’ expression. You blanched in turn, realizing that you’d provoked someone who was not only obsessive, but had the potential to be incredibly dangerous.

Cassius was quiet for a few moments, and when he spoke next, his cold yellow eyes were concerningly narrowed. “If I recall, you are from the [Last Name] household, correct?”

“Uh, nope,” you hastily denied. “I’ve never heard of them before.”

“What is your name?”

Play dumb. C’mon, play dumb!

“I, uh, don’t have a name.”

Not that dumb, holy fuck!

“Absolutely ridiculous,” Cassius scoffed with a roll of his eyes. “Your behavior is the very height of stupidity. No matter. I’ll find out for myself exactly who you are. The nerve you have, to talk back to me...”

He made sure to glare at you one last time for good measure, then walked away.

The second he was gone, you collapsed to your knees and began pulling at your hair.

“Why, why, why?!” you cried out. “Why me?”

Yeah, things were not good. Things were really not good. Bumping into him before was just a minor offense. He didn’t even know who you were at the time. But now he was going to be actively seeking you out with a vengeance. If only you’d kept your goddamn mouth shut. Curse you and your fondness towards your family! It was moments like these that you wished you had the sort of parents you were okay with being shit-talked.

“It’s okay,” you tried to reassure yourself, breathing shallowly. “He’s a bit pissed off, but even he wouldn’t kill someone just for talking back to him. Right? Right?”

Even if you were blowing things wildly out of proportion, you just couldn’t help it. You’d played the game. You’d seen firsthand what these maniacs were capable of.

As if the situation wasn’t shitty enough, you could also hear that same voice in your head, and they were flat-out laughing at you.

Forget what you said about first days earlier. They didn’t just suck in the movies. They sucked always.

The truth was that the rest of the day had been rather uneventful. Even following your terrible run-in with Cassius, you’d still had plenty of time to make your way around campus and find where your classes were. You actually considered calling it a day and going home to cry in bed like a baby, but you ultimately decided against it. Giving up so soon would mean setting a terrible tone for the rest of your lifetime here.

The classes themselves were perfectly fine. The content wasn’t too difficult to follow along with, especially since this was a less advanced time setting than the one you were used to, and you already had knowledge of far more sophisticated concepts, such as future scientific discoveries. Even though it was the world of a game, it still appeared to obey roughly the same laws of physics, chemistry, and biology.

The biggest difference was unarguably the presence of magic and magical ores, that helped to channel power into many different facilities. The topic of their discovery and usage was covered quite extensively in your history class. Here, you really didn’t have any previously existing knowledge, but your memory was good enough that you weren’t too worried about getting by.

All in, your scholarly aptitude wasn’t that big of a concern right now. You were frankly much more worried about having essentially become Cassius’ nemesis (although that was perhaps giving yourself too much credit).

“Welcome back, my lady,” Lizbell beamed. She was right there to greet you in the foyer when you made it back home. “How did your first day of school go?”

“Terrible,” you groaned, dragging your satchel behind you. “Just awful.”

“Oh, good heavens,” she frowned. “It couldn’t have been that bad. You’ve always been a quick learner. That’s the whole reason you wanted to attend the academy in the first place. Were the classes awfully difficult?”

“The classes were fine, but the people sure weren’t.”

“What do you mean by that?” She gasped, covering a palm over her mouth. “Don’t tell me someone was bullying you!”

“Not so much bullying, but there was a bit of a disagreement.” You pursed your lips, peering over at her cautiously. “Hey, Lizbell. Is Cassius Crowe really such a horrible person? Do you think he’ll put out a hit on me just because I argued with him a little?”

Lizbell’s eyes nearly bulged out of her head. “You got into a disagreement with Lord Cassius?!”

“Ugh. Please, your reaction isn’t helping.”

“Ahem,” she coughed, quickly regaining her composure. “My apologies. And, erm... well, he certainly isn’t very well-liked, but what do you mean by ‘put out a hit’ on you? I’m not familiar with the term.”

“What I mean is, will he chase me to the ends of the planet to ensure that I pay for my crimes? Will he capture me and string me up in town to be made an example out of?”

“Lady [Name], sometimes I really do worry about what goes inside your head.”

“That’s not an answer!” you whined.

“It should be just fine,” she reassured. “He might hold a bit of a grudge, but I’ve never heard of him doing something so drastic purely because someone displeased him. His infamous reputation may be somewhat exaggerated. He actively contributes to the academy’s research, and I’m sure he wouldn’t want to tarnish his image.”

“Let’s hope that’s the case,” you muttered.

Lizbell tried to bite back a smile. “Well, I’m sorry that you had somewhat of an unpleasant interaction, but might I just add that you really are something to behold. Not a day goes by that you don’t find yourself wrapped up in something interesting. Serving you will never get boring, that I can say with absolute confidence.”

You rolled your eyes. At least one of you was having fun.

“Don’t worry, my lady,” Lizbell said cheerfully. “I’m sure the situation sounds much worse in your head than it really is. Lord Cassius is too busy to chase after petty altercations. Quite frankly, this situation is beneath him.”

Can’t tell if that was supposed to be a diss on me or not.

“We’ll see, I guess,” you replied, still rather unconvinced.

“Oh, I know! How about I bring you some pastries to snack on? The sugar will help lift your spirits right away.”

Never one to turn down food, you nodded absently, and Lizbell bowed before leaving the room.

Mentally exhausted from the day’s ordeal, you collapsed backwards onto your bed, letting out a resounding huff. Lizbell was right, in a certain sense. There was no point in beating yourself up over it, especially when it was already in the past. You were learning to use a sword, and besides, soon enough, Cassius would have his hands full trying to win over Flora. You were the least of his concerns, really.

“How did the order go, again?” you mumbled aloud.

Cassius was the first yandere Flora met in the game. She ran into him at the academy, which was apparently meant to have happened today, and then proceeded to ask him for directions since it was her first day on campus. Naturally, Cassius was every bit as rude to her as he’d been to you. He was dismissive and haughty, both qualities that gradually softened up as he began to develop romantic feelings. Since you’d accidentally gotten in the way of their first encounter, you really had no way of knowing when or how they would actually meet. Oh, well.

Next was Lawrence. In the game, Flora met him while attending a gathering of nobles, after receiving an invitation from the villainess, who sought to humiliate her publicly. The villainess regularly bullied Flora at school, and even made her burst into tears during the party. It was afterwards that Flora would run into Lawrence, who being the superficial goody-two-shoes he was, would pretend to console her even though he could really care less.

The third yandere Flora met was Triston, son of a foreign powerhouse family, who came to stay in Zodite Kingdom as part of an ongoing business deal. A public function was held, mandating the attendance of the noble families, whereupon Triston would give a speech. Flora ran into him there, and they had a brief interaction during which they introduced themselves.

Lastly, and also by far your least favorite of all the yanderes, was Friedrich. Flora’s meeting with him was... honestly, you didn’t even want to think about it too much right now.

Anyways. You knew exactly how Flora was supposed to meet the rest of the main characters, so there was no way you were going to mess things up any further. You needed for the plot to move along smoothly, in order to make everything easier to predict. You knew that you were an anomaly, and your very presence in this world was affecting things, but your safest bet was really to let all of the love interests have their time with Flora, making sure to give them plenty of space to do so.

“Haha. You look rather troubled. Watching your interaction with that man earlier was quite amusing. It sure seems like you managed to get under his skin.”

That stupid voice again. It was another issue that was grating at you, but you were completely powerless to do anything about it.

“Stop it,” you snapped. “Cut it out. Quit spying on me.”

“Why would I? I’m having such a fun time.”

“You said I would find out who you are,” you said exasperatedly. “Well? I’m still waiting. And to be frank, I could use some good news right now.”

Just like last time, there was an unnecessarily long pause before the voice spoke again.

“Hm, no. It’s still too soon. I’m going to wait a bit longer before I answer your questions. I’m curious to see what other fun stuff you’ll get caught up in.”

You rolled your eyes. “Typical.”

Seriously, nothing was going your way today. Hopefully tomorrow would be better, but you had a nagging suspicion that wasn't going to be the case. 

More chapters are available on Quotev!

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💞 main masterlist ♡ character appearances

[joi-me-hoi-me-noi]

Yandere Robot jjk ?

MAYHAPS... I have been thinking! Here we go y'all on the journey of yandere jjk robots, welcome in! ENJOY! :D. This includes: Geto (since I feel like he'd have yandere tendencies)

°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°˚˖𓍢ִ໋🔪͙֒✧˚.🎀༘⋆💌°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°

You first met Suguru when you were at a cafe, taking orders and doing your job. He was sitting next to his owner, his eyes locked onto your person. Whoever owned him noticed this, had him apologize to you and left the cafe. And man, oh man did he hate his owner for taking him out of your sight.

You were working night shift a couple days later and were about to close up but then someone walked in wearing a black hoodie. It made you a little nervous but you smiled anyway as he approached the counter with his head slightly down.

"Hello, would you like something?"

The hooded stranger mumbled something, something your ears couldn't detect. You lean forward a little bit and look at the person expectantly.

"Sorry, could you repeat that again."

"You...I would like...you."

He tilts his head up so you could fully see his smiling face. You recognize him as the android that had apologized a couple of days ago. You looked over his face and gasped at the blood stains on his face. You step back on instinct but the unnoticeable hand on your wrist gripped suddenly and pulled you forward. His other hand had a cloth wrapped around it.

"Wait! Wait please!" Tears falling from your eyeline.

He doesn't listen to you nor does he care if you're crying. He's a machine after all, built out of scrap and blue liquid. He pushes the cloth to your face and presses it against your nose and mouth. He notices you weren't falling asleep and after a quick scan, you were holding your breath.

"You'll have to breathe eventually. Just make this easy for me."

He was right, however you were determined to keep fighting. Your hand beats against his chest as he looks at you unfazed and then a smile creeps onto his face.

"There we are. It's okay, I'll take care of you..."

Your eyes start to flutter close even though you are fighting to stay awake. It doesn't help that he gently closes your eyes for you.

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You wake up, handcuffed to intricate lines of pipes that lead out of the room. He came through the door with a plate of food and smile on his face. He'd changed clothes when you were drugged. You were desperately tugging against the pipe. He started to shush you, crouching down in front of you and placing the food tray to the side.

He gently rubs your hair before you pull away with tears in your eyes.

"You're a deviant! Where's your owner?"

He looks behind him at the door and then back at you.

"He's nothing to worry about! You should be happy you're with me now.

You couldn't help full out sobbing and begging him to let you go. He wipes the tears from your cheeks and then holds your face. Leaning in and laughing as you struggle against his tight grasp.

"There's no need to cry. I'll protect you...forever."

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Masterlist -> link

[otomiyaa]

Arranged Amusement

Rufus x Fem!Reader

[Fic Reupload] - Another old fic I got reminded of by AO3 comment. This one was written for @thelaughtercafe

Summary: You are about to get married to Rufus Shinra. For business, not love. While the two of you have been rather distant, something comes up that finally breaks the ice... (Also on AO3)

Word Count: 2.8K

Marriage. As the president of Shinra Electric Power Company it was only natural that Rufus was going to have an arranged marriage, full of benefits for both sides - though mostly his - rather than meet an elegant lady at the nearby club or at the park.

Not that Rufus would even visit the club or the park, so marriage for love was already at the bottom of his life goals by the time he was appointed to be Vice President of the company. It mattered not. 

He chose his ideal woman purely strategically and from a business point of view, and that was how you came into his life.

As the daughter of the CEO of Enyo Marine Ltd., your marriage would award Shinra with the collaboration of Rufus’ deepest ambitions: besides space, they would now expand to both the surface and depths of the oceans.

Your engagement was made public a while ago and gave you some time to pre-invest in your future relationship. Rufus was determined to succeed his father in style, with a wedding of royal level and the attention he deserved.

However with the murder of his father, that succession was here rather soon and unexpected, and all of a sudden you would meet your fiancé a lot more often than ever as wedding arrangements were in progress for the both of you.

“There, signed. Now go make it happen~” Rufus chanted as he placed his signature hastily and sent his assistants out on errands again. You eyed him from your comfortable position on the sofa. A book was placed in your lap and you had barely exchanged a word with the man you felt quite neutral about.

Yes, you were about to marry him, but from the few, very few times you already spent together, you figured he was not a person you were going to love. 

Not that you expected you would. Also for you, it was purely an arranged marriage for business benefits, and besides, the marriage came with wealth and luxury in tenfold.

While you never had a bad life at your family’s mansion, being cared for by Rufus and his staff was quite something else.

“I apologize. We finally meet again, and here I am. Busy with work, and our wedding,” he said, eyeing you from his desk.

“That’s alright,” was your short and indifferent reply. You already knew this was what your whole life was going to be like anyway, from this point on. It was already surprising you were both in the same room now for longer than thirty minutes.

A cold and icy silence was what filled the room for the next couple of minutes. That was until he was the one to break the silence.

“You know what? Perhaps it won’t be so bad for us to go out sometime. I can cancel the meeting of this afternoon,” Rufus said. 

You raised your eyebrows. Oh? Go out? “Anywhere you would like to go?” he suggested. You were impressed by his efforts to get closer to you, but at the same time you understood that your marriage was getting rushed, so he most likely was trying to make this less awkward for everyone. Including the two of you. 

“Where I would like to go...” you wondered out loud. You rubbed your foot with the other as you lounged comfortably on the sofa with your legs stretched.

“I know you are not familiar with our city’s cuisine, so perhapsー”

“ーa pedicure.” 

“....What?”

You glanced at him and boldly said it again. “Where I would like to go.. I would like to go somewhere for a pedicure,” you said, clenching your book in your hands. You felt bad to interrupt him when he was talking more than ever before, but the surprised expression on his face was kind of worth it.

“Together?” he asked, squinting his eyes. You nodded.

“I have never been to a pedicure before,” you confessed. Not that you needed to, since you were not that spoiled you had other people take care of your body. However since coming here you kind of understood that common people would visit pedicures, even if they were not from a wealthy family.

“And it could be good for us. Before the wedding,” you said. Convenience. Not a bad idea if your feet were in great shape for the wedding, right? Rufus nodded slowly.

“If that is your wish, not a problem.”

You smirked. Although he was busy and seeing you rarely, ever since the start of your engagement you knew it was Rufus’ trait to pamper and spoil you rotten. It may not have been him personally, but he would always send his people after you to tend to you, to get you the most delicious meals, to deliver the most magnificent flowers, and to give you everything you wanted.

So this too, he could not refuse. You kind of expected him to send you by yourself after all, which you would not have minded. In fact, you were kind of hoping he was not coming along since a pedicure-date was kind of odd after all. 

But in the end you did go together. Of course the selected pedicure was the best of the best, and they made you feel like royalty as they took care of your feet while you enjoyed the most delicious wine by Rufus’ side and discussed business with him. Well, this wasn’t so bad.

“Did you take a look at the guest list for the wedding?” Rufus asked. You nodded.

“I did. No remarks from my side.”

“Alright, I was considering whether we should invite your uncle.”

You frowned. “Rather not,” you muttered, but Rufus gave you a look.

“We are going to be a new family. It might not be so bad to restore ill family relations.” 

You sighed. “I understand. However my thought was that ー hahahaha!” You jolted when the treatment on your feet started to tickle all of a sudden, and you quickly covered your mouth, sadly after that embarrassing burst of laughter already echoed through the room. 

“......?” Rufus almost looked offended by your sudden outburst so you very quickly pointed at your foot that was being scrubbed right now.

“Ticklish!” you said. “Just.. a little ticklish, I apologize. That was rude of me,” you admitted, and the lady who was scrubbing your foot sent you an apologetic look.

“That is alright. So, your thought was?” he asked. Ah right.

“Actually, I was just thinking that my uncle - whahah!” you laughed again when it felt once again ticklish, and you gulped.

“.....I will think about it,” you said shyly when you felt his eyes on you. Meanwhile the poor lady apologized over and over for tickling you by accident. 

It was your first pedicure after all, so you did not expect it to tickle this much. They were definitely not the last times you laughed suddenly into Rufus’ face, but with time he seemed to get used to it, and if you were not mistaken, you were sure you could spot a very subtle smile when you let out the most embarrassing giggle again.

“I am so sorry for being so ticklish,” you whispered at the woman who felt just as ashamed and guitly for making you laugh.

“T-that is alright, it happens!” she replied. You blushed like crazy to see the way Rufus smirked at you.

“Well, that was interesting,” he said as you both finally headed out. 

“.....” There was only little you could say to that, but fortunately Rufus did not mention it again. He quickly moved on to other topics, and soon you were home again, and you stepped out of your shoes and enjoyed how soft and smooth your feet felt. 

You sat down on the couch and felt your silky smooth sole with your finger, and you wiggled your toes. Well that was just a luxury.

“You are staying?” you asked in surprise when Rufus sent out one of his assistants to get you both a pot of tea. 

“I am,” he said, approaching you with firm steps. “There is something I would like to check,” he said, sitting down by your side, and you were too slow to react when he gently took your ankle and pulled your foot in his lap.

“Check wh-whahahah! Hey- hahah! T-that tickles, hehey!” you giggled when his fingers fluttered against your bare sole. He stared at you with a serious expression but there was this slight tug at his lips as he took in your reactions.

“I thought so. You really are rather ticklish,” he observed with much interest. Your eyes widened and you threw your head back when he tightened the grip on your ankle while his fingers scribbled at the ball of your foot.

“O-obviously haha! Now quihihit ihihit!” you giggled, but Rufus was surprisingly persistent. 

“Usually you are quite the serious type. I have not heard you laugh like this before,” he said. 

!!! He was the serious type! You just.... went along with the vibe! You tried to tell him something along those lines, but Rufus brushed the soft skin of your sole with both thumbs and lightly fluttered his fingertips against the surrounding area.

“HAh-I gehehet ihihit! Ahahalright, stahahap!” you giggled.

“Get what?” he asked. What a tease! Who would have thought.

“J-just ー Nahaha not thehehere!” you laughed when his curious fingers moved towards your toes where he scribbled lightly at the sensitive skin. If a pedicure already tickled by accident, then this was just... torture. 

“Rufuhus! Plehehease hahaha!” You turned and twisted, but your foot couldn’t go anywhere. Rufus was tickling the ticklish areas curiously and tried different and various spots, but all resulted in the same hysterical laughter, though sometimes louder, and sometimes pitchier.

He was silent while he tickled you, watching you with those piercing eyes. And then finally he stopped. He released your foot which you quickly pulled back, and you gasped for breath.

“I did not perceive you to be the ticklish type,” he said. You blushed and glared at him.

“I did not perceive you to be the tickly type. What was that for?” you panted. Rufus looked at you with a cocky smirk and he shrugged.

“It is nice to see you lose your composure. I have to admit, I was never tickled before. It was amusing to see what it could result in.” 

You looked at him and were still flustered by the sudden tickle attack, but you also felt motivated to tease him back. Your serious facade was dropping hard along with your lost dignity, and you slowly moved towards him.

“You... have never been tickled before?” you asked. He shook his head. 

“Would you like to try?” 

Oh. The way he looked at you when he said that... You must admit, you did feel a little tingle in your chest right there.

“...... Yes,” you whispered, moving closer towards him. He stayed in place, and for a moment you really thought this was going to be the moment. Your moment. Tickle Rufus, for real? Watch and hear his laugh as he did to yours?

That was nothing more than a little fantasy in your mind it seemed. You let out a cry in shock when Rufus grabbed you right before you could reach for him. You saw a flash of the ceiling very quickly as you were pushed on your back on the couch, then Rufus came into your sight, looking smug, cocky and a little bit.. tempting. You gulped.

“Y-you said Iー”

“I said you could try. Try, and you failed. So....” Rufus hummed, and he lowered his hands.

“So now, I will try some of this,” he said calmly, sliding his hands down your torso until they stopped at your sides. There, he dug in slightly, and you jerked at the sudden ticklish sensation. 

“HAh-! N-noho!” you yelped, but Rufus already started to tickle you just as relentlessly as he did to that single foot of yours, except now it was your sides and he was leaning right above you, with perfect view all over your most embarrassing facial expressions and with your pitchy laughter closer to his ears. You couldn’t stop blushing. So embarrassing!

“Does that tickle?” he asked. The menace.

“Hahahaha! Y-yes nohohow stohohop!” you laughed. There went your perfect image. His perfect calm, composed and professional wife-to-be. You were literally barking in his face, all because of some silly tickling. You couldn’t believe this was happening!

“How about this?” He squeezed your ribs and you twitched, attempting to turn to the side, but he moved you back and pinned you down while he continued to explore the ticklish spots on your ribcage.

“Hehehehe! It tickles- ahhh ahaha! Nohoho!” you squealed. He just kept tickling you. Your laughter was only increasing, not decreasing, and it went from bad to worse when he managed to gather your grabby hands into one of his.

“These are in my way,” he muttered, and he pinned them above your head, leaving your torso completely exposed. You stared at him in surprise and smiled nervously.

“Mercy,” you whispered. He nodded slowly.

“Mercy, yes yes. Later,” he said, and he brought his hand to your exposed your armpit and poked the area experimentally.

“HYEah!” you shrieked. The smirk that appeared on his face was a demon’s alright. 

“Found a good spot,” he said before he started to dance his fingers around the sensitive area of your armpit.

“HAHAha! Nohohoho not thehehere! Hehehe R-Rufus ahah! I cahahan’t!”

“You can, I am sure of it. Ah yes, please place it over there,” Rufus said when his assistant entered again with the tea. 

Your eyes widened in shock as you suddenly had a temporary spectator, but Rufus kept you busy with more and more laughter by continuing the armpit tickling without pause. When he released your arms, you thought it was to grant you mercy, but it was only so he could tickle both armpits while you clamped your arms down and howled.

“Hahahahahaha!” Something merciless and sadistic started existing in this moment and you felt nervous that Rufus was so determined to tickle you to death. How much more did he need to humiliate you?

“Pleh-plehehease! HEhee!” you shrieked when his wiggling fingers aimed for your stomach next. He poked at the spot and dug into your belly, nodding when he seemingly approved with your response to them.

“Cahahan’t breheheathe! Rufus-hehehe!” you begged when he even moved his fingers under your shirt where they wiggled against your bare skin. You squirmed weakly and shook your head.

Earth to Rufus? He was so into it that he barely seemed to notice your reactions, except when you sobbed loudly because of crying and laughing at the same time. 

“O-oh!” He raised his hands all of a sudden. “I apologize.”

You had never seen him look so guilty before. You wheezed tiredly and pulled your shirt back down. 

“Are you.. crying?” 

You couldn’t help but giggle, both from the remaining tingling feeling on your body and his funny reaction.

“Tears from laughing too much is a thing, Rufus. And as I can see, tickle monsters are real too. Pffff." You sat straight and recovered from the relentless tickle attack.

“....I got carried away,” he admitted. You nodded.

“You did. I-it’s alright, just.. a breather or two wouldn’t be so bad next time.” You gulped when you realized you said ‘next time’ and you quickly looked away, blushing like crazy.

The vibe suddenly felt so much different than before the pedicure and tickle torture. You sighed and covered your chest, feeling the way your heart was racing. He did not seem appalled by your hysterical laughter either, which gave you such a nice feeling of relief.

“So... It’s an arranged marriage, but we can have some fun this way, right? We can arrange our own amusement,” Rufus said, making you tingle even more. He really said this? You looked at him and rolled your eyes fondly.

“Arranged amusement, heh, really? Well what I would like to arrange next is for me to tickle you,” you said. Now Rufus was busy again all of a sudden as he straightened his clothes and got up.

“Perhaps another time. There are some things I need to do,” he said in a hurry. You smirked. He had never been tickled before but his reaction made him appear a little flustered. Were you really flirting with your fiancé? 

“Rufus?” you said, and he turned around again. After all this you saw him in a new light, and you smiled. 

“I did have fun,” you said. Rufus’ gaze softened and he nodded. 

“So did I,” he admitted politely. He then left and it was amusing that after you got tickled to death, he was the one to leave the room, completely flustered. You chuckled. This marriage could get interesting after all... 

[eastwindmlk]

"I am obsessed with you. Not in a creepy way (lmao)." with prongsfoot 🙏🏼

Thank you so much! This took me a bit because I really had no idea how to spin this sentence again, haha. But we did it and it got a little spicy! I hope that makes up for the wait.

As always, my inbox is open for prompts any time! Except for this specific line. I refuse, lol.

597 words under the cut or read on AO3

‘I hate Quidditch’ James thought as he dragged a plastered Sirius up the stairs while he himself was still stone-cold sober. He would have loved to partake but James could not justify risking not being his absolute best when facing Ravenclaw come morning. 

And so, James had sipped pumpkin juice and watched while his mates got sloshed, getting more and more inebriated the more his determination started to waver. He’d even poured himself a cup, and if it had not been for Sirius draining the cup while it had still been in James’ hand, he might have, at least, felt the burn of gin sliding down his throat. 

It would give him a reason to feel the way he did, to excuse the heat that licked at his skin every time Sirius brushed against him—the way his stomach did that thing when he draped himself over James. 

Sirius smelled like Christmas; Like cinnamon, hearth fire and something so distinctly Sirius that James was sure he could pick it up anywhere. 

This and the way he set James’ skin on fire were pushed aside, deemed as too distracting and too… he wasn’t sure what else it was. Inconvenient, probably. It wasn’t irritating, but the thing he could not quite settle was if it was inappropriate. 

What certainly was inappropriate, though, was the way Sirius's mouth felt against the back of his neck. The open-mouthed kiss gave James pause and nearly had him catch his foot on the next stair. 

“Sirius,” he reprimanded in a murmur, his voice low enough to be misconstrued. 

There came a chuckle from right behind James’ ear as Sirius wrapped his arms around him from behind, hands locking in the front. Just like that, the weight of a whole person clung to James, whose hands gripped onto his thighs, hoisting him up and squeezing curiously while he continued up the stairs. 

It was difficult enough to concentrate before, with Sirius right beside him, without him clinging onto him like he was gravity itself. The drunken affection that he lavished James with from the moment Sirius had downed his third drink and tipped from slightly buzzed to tipsy. 

Their exchanges had garnered some stares and earned some whispers, not that either of them cared too much about who thought what about their unconventional dynamic. As long as they knew what they were. Right?

Sirius’ breath was hot on James’ neck as he chuckled, his legs wrapping tighter around his hips. “Do I have you cursing my name already? We’re not even upstairs yet.” 

Like the words alone weren’t enough, Sirius’ tongue dragged along the stubble on his neck. 

James drew in a sharp breath that lodged itself in his throat for a moment, his hands gripping tighter onto Sirius’ thighs. “I have a game tomorrow,” James said firmly, a reminder that, hopefully, implied enough. 

“Fuck,” Sirius cursed against his skin. “Are you sure you can’t make an exception, captain?” 

“You know I can’t, Padfoot.” 

“Not even for me?” James bit back a groan when Sirius’ teeth pinched his earlobe. “I am obsessed with you. You’re such a good boy for someone who loves to bend the rules,” Sirius said, his voice low and teasing. 

James’ mouth went dry at his words, and he tried to swallow thickly. “Obsessed? That’s… something,” he said, his wit having been left somewhere along the stairs together with his determined nature.

“Not in a creepy way, obviously. In an I-need-you-inside-of-me way,” Sirius replied, and with that, the remainder of his fighting spirit left James. Because how was he ever going to say no to that?

[echo-riot]

Ambessa with a reader who’s just awkward about receiving gifts? Like, they always love and enjoy her gifts—especially if they’re personal gifts—they just feel so awkward because they’re not used to being spoiled.

And they flip it by gifting her incredibly personal and often handmade gifts. Still incredibly awkward about it but they’re trying.

—🦌

✞⛧ Ambessa with a awkward about receiving gifts girlfriend (and they make homemade gifts back) headcanons ✞⛧

✞⛧ On your birthday, Ambessa gifts you a custom piece of jewelry, and you almost panic, trying to give it back. She calms you down with a soft, knowing smile. “It’s for you,” she says. “Because you deserve it.”

✞⛧ At first, you try to give it back, insisting you couldn’t possibly accept it. She doesn’t take no for an answer, gently placing it in your hands.

✞⛧ Ambessa’s patience is endless when it comes to your discomfort, and she’s willing to wait for the day when you finally let yourself receive her love without hesitation.

✞⛧ Despite the awkwardness of receiving gifts, you always express how much you love her thoughtful gestures. You’re just not used to being spoiled, but you’re trying.

✞⛧ To reciprocate, you begin gifting Ambessa something just as personal, although it’s always a little awkward. One time, you made her a hand-painted portrait of the two of you, and she nearly melts when she sees the detail.

✞⛧ Ambessa can tell how much effort you put into the gift, even though you try to downplay it with a shy smile. “I hope you like it. I didn’t really know… what to get you,” you mumble.

✞⛧ She appreciates the handmade gift more than you could ever know, and you can see her soft smile as she places it carefully in a place where everyone can see. “I love it,” she tells you simply, eyes locking with yours.

✞⛧ Ambessa secretly enjoys your awkwardness—your effort to make her happy in your own quiet way makes her heart flutter. She sees it as a mark of how much you care.

✞⛧ You both learn that your love languages are different, and that’s okay. Ambessa is all about grand gestures, but she’s starting to understand the beauty in your more subtle ways of expressing affection.

✞⛧ You’re also starting to realize that it’s okay to accept love and kindness from her without feeling guilty. She wants to spoil you, and it’s not about the money—it’s about her wanting to show you that you’re worthy of all the good things she has to offer.

✞⛧ Every time she gives you something, you’re reminded of how much she knows you, how deeply she cares for you, and it makes it harder to refuse. But you try, you really do.

✞⛧ Ambessa sees this as a challenge, but a sweet one. She’s determined to show you that it’s okay to accept, that love and gifts can be freely given and received.

✞⛧ There are times when you nervously try to explain why you feel so awkward about receiving things, but Ambessa always listens intently. “I understand,” she says. “But it doesn’t mean I won’t spoil you anyway.”

✞⛧ Ambessa starts taking the pressure off by giving you things that are more personal and meaningful to you, rather than grand or expensive. She gifts you a rare book she knew you’d love or a flower from a secret garden she found.

✞⛧ The more personal the gift, the more you warm up to the idea of receiving her affection. There’s something about the thoughtfulness behind her gestures that makes it easier to accept.

✞⛧ One day, when she gives you a simple, hand-carved trinket she made for you, you finally allow yourself to take it without hesitation. “Thank you,” you say softly, not quite able to meet her eyes

✞⛧ Ambessa’s eyes gleam with appreciation, her voice soft and low as she pulls you close. “No need to thank me. Just know I want you to feel as cherished as you make me feel.”

✞⛧ You start to learn that it’s okay to let her spoil you—her love and generosity are nothing to be ashamed of. And as you start to accept that, your love for her deepens.

✞⛧ Your handmade gifts become more frequent, and you find that you’ve grown more confident in your ability to give her something meaningful. It’s still awkward, but the gesture comes from the heart.

✞⛧ When Ambessa sees that you’ve made her something personal again, she can’t help but admire how you’ve poured yourself into it. “You’re amazing,” she whispers. “And I’m so lucky to have you.

✞⛧ You’re still awkward about it, but you’re getting there. The gift exchange between you and Ambessa turns into a beautiful dance of love and effort.

✞⛧ Ambessa never pushes you, never makes you feel guilty about refusing. Instead, she gently continues to spoil you in ways that show how deeply she knows and cares for you.

✞⛧ Even though you’re still working through your awkwardness, you can tell that Ambessa is proud of how far you’ve come in accepting her gifts. She sees the love you put into your own offerings, and it’s more than enough for her.

✞⛧ “I’ll keep spoiling you,” Ambessa teases with a wink, “but I think you’re finally starting to understand the beauty of being cared for.”

✞⛧ Over time, your awkwardness melts away, and the love and connection between you both grow deeper. You realize that gifts don’t just come in material forms—they’re in every moment shared, every piece of your heart offered.

✞⛧ Ambessa loves you fiercely, and though she’s patient with your discomfort, she’s ready to continue spoiling you forever. After all, you’re hers. And no amount of awkwardness will change that.

[femalewhumper701]

Seconding lesbians in peril trying to protect each other

As my url suggests, I am obsessed with the Female Prisoner 701: Scorpion quartet (and Meiko Kaji movies in general)

Matsushiro/"Sasori" is always a protector of other women, any time she finds a girl in shitty circumstances, she tries to get them away, and if the girl doesn't survive the attempt, Matsu makes sure the abuser doesn't either.

In the first movie, tho

It starts with Matsu and her girlfriend Yuki escaping prison, pursued through the reeds in a marsh by guards. In a series with multiple escapes/escape attempts, where many of them are every gal for themselves, Matsu goes back, like a couple yards back, to get Yuki when she stumbles.

They are found eventually--

--and Matsu steps up, defending her girl.

They're dragged back to prison and each thrown into solitary, after being hog tied and beaten. (There is so much lady whump in this series!!!) But the second they're alone, they caterpillar wiggle to the adjoining wall, bumping their heads gently against it to let each other know they're alive and okay.

This fucking scene gets me every time. Because this isn't solely about Matsushiro. This isn't just Matsu's soul we're witnessing, in her capacity as Sasori or otherwise. It's Yuki's. It's a moment of genuine love and concern for each other. A profound bond, that doesn't shatter the moment a man enters the picture (looking at you, Switchblade Sisters, what the fuck was that?), because a man is not even on the radar.

These moments of tenderness bloom and fade and bloom again as the film goes on, but whenever they share the screen, their eyes are on each other, their gaze is united, their bodies gravitate to each other. Their first thought is for each other. Whenever they're together, you can see how much they genuinely love and care about each other--something that sets them and the film in general apart from the rest of the women in prison subgenre.

The guards work extremely hard to alienate Matsu from the rest of the girls, because they know that with her determined spirit, Matsu could easily lead a rebellion if she had enough girls behind her. And a lot of the time, it works. Why risk seeking the association and protection of someone when just being caught looking at her with sympathy can get you double hard labor?

Not Yuki--even though she's small and not half as tough as most of them. Even when the rest of the girls have abandoned her to yet another public punishment, Yuki finds time to check on her.

(This is also a great form of lady whump--group dynamics, especially in hostile situations and high stakes! Jailhouse 41, the third movie, is FULL of women in extremis being pitted against each other and having to work together and askgehaoiejlggfff I love it)

Basically everything Meiko Kaji is in has top shelf lady whump, both the Female Prisoner 701: Scorpion and the Stray Cat Rock quartets, Jeans Blues: No Future (a personal fave because of the Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid vibes), and both Lady Snowblood movies.

Anyway, please join me in these fandoms!! (if you're 18, they're also full of nsfwhump)

fans of lady whump, what is something you don't see a lot in lady whump that you wish was done more? 🦎🎤

[allonsy-gabriel]

screaming crying wailing lamenting she was the heart of the group she was young and ambitious and callous and cunning and ruthless and she was the heart that tied them all together she was their daughter their sister their lover their friend she was their heart and she was living on borrowed time and for a moment she was loved and in that love she allowed herself to give in to stop fighting and it cost her everything and still she was their heart. she was spy and a murderer and soaked in blood and violence. she was rotting before she even started to ripen and still her last words were those of love.

[elumish]

I think one of the biggest things I've learned in my own process of trying to be more cognizant of my own writing is that guilt is one of the most counterproductive feelings for it.

I've looked back at things that I've written and realized that they had real, core, structural problems stemming from my own ingrained and socialized issues. These are not just one-line off-color things, but in some cases major elements of how characters are presented or engage with each other or how I did worldbuilding.

Some of it is stuff that came from my own messed up feelings about gender and sexuality and stuff growing up, and some of it is unexamined racism that came from growing up as a white person in the US. But I've looked back at them, including stories that I am still trying to get work, and though oh my god what was wrong with me.

And it's really easy to just live in that feeling. To think, what I did was so terrible and I'm so terrible and it's all hopeless and I can never do it right.

The same feeling can come from seeing posts about how white people write characters of color, about how so many people write women, about the racism and sexism and ableism and transphobia etc. in both fanfiction and published fiction. I'm terrible and it's an insurmountable problem so why bother try because I'll never get it right.

And then sometimes you end up feeling defensive about that guilty, because guilt feels bad, and defensiveness feels like an emotional fix to that, a way to say it's not really my fault or why is this MY problem when so many people are so much worse.

But if you go down that road, then you don't try and it never gets fixed. Because the people who don't feel guilty because they don't care won't fix it, and so we need the people who feel guilty because they do care to turn that guilt into action.

So my recommendation is this: if you look at your own writing or your own media consumption and feel guilty over it, or you feel defensive about it, turn it into thinking about what you can accomplish.

Because that guilt means that you recognize that you're doing something that doesn't match what you want to be doing. So think through how you can get it to be what you want to be doing.

Working to fix something is the way that you fix it. Things get better because we work to make them better, not because we feel guilty about them.

So anyway that's the lesson I've had to teach myself during my own process for this. Sometimes I am the problem, and I can feel guilty about it, or I can try to become part of the solution instead.

[icewindandboringhorror]

I know multiple of these are likely important to people, but I'm asking in terms of like - which of these do you tend to focus on the MOST, enjoy the most, that is most essential for you to actually care about the media, etc.?

(For example: someone finding "Relatability" most important would likely not enjoy a show much if they have trouble empathizing with the characters/relating to it, even if it were good otherwise. Or, someone might be able to overlook bad acting and ugly costumes, as long as the Character Dynamics are fun to them, because they value that more than Aesthetics- while for others, bad costumes would be a dealbreaker.)

Also feel free to reblog and explain your answer or more information in the tags- I've always been curious about people's relationships to media, how they conceptualize it/what they get out of it, how some people value some parts more than others, how that informs their overall taste and genres they may be more inclined towards, etc. :0c