#the response to him was insane people are so. cruel

[dreamsteddie]

AITA Steddie Au Part Three

Part Two

Hello! Sorry for the delay! This week was very busy with student conferences and my own midterms so I haven't had a lot of time to work on this. This is more of an interlude building up to bigger things, but I hope you enjoy it!

Also! Get in the comments if you have any ideas of an actual name for this series so I can stop calling it AITA Steeddie Au. I can't think of anything good 😓

------

Eddie takes Steve on that second date.

And then a third and a fourth and eventually he stops counting because he's seeing Steve as often as he can between their jobs and other responsibilities. He feels high off it, giddy with possibility and hope for this new thing that he's never had before.

Eddie has done relationships before, a couple of times. A small handful of boys and girls he took out on dates and tried his best to woo all went up in flames one way or another, but none of those relationships left him feeling so gone so fast. He felt like he was always holding himself back from giving himself up completely, too afraid of falling without a safety net to reach for that deep devotion he's always craved.

Steve makes him feel like they're plunging into that unknown together.

Still, no matter how much he's been trying to avoid it, the looming specter of what the hell to do about his friends is looming over his head.

------

"Are you fucking serious right now dude?" Eddie asks, a complicated mix of righteous anger, humiliation for himself and Steve, and complete disbelief at Gareth's unwillingness to back down from this making it increasingly difficult to keep his cool.

"Look man, all I'm saying is that Steve is like, the complete antithesis of literally everything we stand for. He's a nepo baby business major who's never had an original thought in his life! I would know! I've read one of his papers." Gareth says, forced nonchalance coloring his tone and riling Eddie up even more.

He rears up, shoulders pushing back and hands grasping at the air like he could pull down his frustration from the either and condense it into a solid ball he could lob at Garteth's head to finally knock some goddamn sense into his brain.

"Hey, hey, hey. Okay, Eddie, I'm really sorry about this. It was a fucked up idea, I don't know what we were thinking." Jeff interveins before the frustrated banshy noises Eddie is letting out turn into another yelling match that won't get anyone anywhere.

"I think we just got too caught up wanting to help you get out of this rut and it all turned into something completely insane. You don't gotta forgive us Eddie, but if there's anything we can do to try and make up for it, we'll do it. Isn't that right Gareth?" Jeff pointedly asked with a look that says agree with me right now or else.

Gareth doesn't say anything.

The thing about all of this that Eddie just can't wrap his head around is the why. Why would his friends, his sheepies, do something so cruel? He knows none of them have ever looked kindly at people like Steve. Too many traumatizing high school humiliations behind them all to trust when someone who looks so much like all the guys who bullied them in high school tries to reach out, but Gareth and Jeff have never tried something like this. In fact, it's used to be Eddie doing most of the anti-jock revenge planning back in the day, even if nothing ever actually came from it.

He thought, incorrectly it seems, that they had grown out of the worst of it by now. It's been three years since Garteth graduated, and five since Eddie made his final attempt, and leaving their hometown behind did a lot to heal old hurts.

So why this? Why now?

"Is this seriously how it's going to be man? You won't tell me what the fuck any of this was really about and you're not even going to try and apologize? Seriously?" The righteous anger is starting to seep out of him, leaving behind a bone-deep exhaustion.

Gareth just continues to stare at him defiantly, not saying a word.

Eddie pinches his nose and takes a deep breath, "You know what? Fine. Whatever. If this is how it's going to be then I'm out. Jeff, I'll talk to you later, probably not for a little bit though. Gareth?" The other man lifts his head from where he'd been looking down at his shoes. There were tears in his eyes, just a little bit but enough for Eddie to clock it. Face red from some unnamed cocktail of emotions Eddie doesn't have the energy or desire to interrogate right now. "Call me when you're ready to grow the fuck up. I've got a second date to plan."

With that, Eddie turned on his heel and made for the open garage door.

"What about the band, man?!" Gareth called.

Eddie kept walking.

-------

That was over four weeks ago.

He hasn't spoken to Gareth for most of that time. The first couple of days he blew up his phone with angry to half-apologizing texts that Eddie promptly ignored. After the second day, he sent a single text back letting him know he didn't want to talk unless he had a real explanation and apology to give both him and Steve and that he was going to block his number for a little while. He could let Freak know if he was ever ready to talk like adults. Eddie trusted him to tell if Gareth was being genuine.

In other news.

Waking up to strong arms secured around his naked waist is fast becoming Eddie's favorite way to start the day. He and Steve slept together for the first time last week, and since then it's like neither of them can get enough of each other.

"Hey, baby." Steve rasps in his ear, tilting his head down to smear sleepy kisses onto his shoulder. The hand that was resting against his ribs meanders its way down to the trail of hair under his navel, scratching just a little and making Eddie feel like a contented mutt. He's not sure if he should feel horny or like he could sink into the mattress and sleep for another full 8 if Steve keeps holding him like his.

"Mornin' sweetheart." he says deciding that a couple more hours of sleep is definitely the way to go. Steve, it seems, has other idead.

"What you thinkin' about this early in the morning?" He asks, hand continuing to scratch lazily at Eddie's stomach like he's not completely destroying Eddie's will and ability to focus on anything but the warm body behind him.

But it's been a long time coming, and as much as he doesn't want to, Eddie needs to start thinking about what he wants to do about his friends? former friends? estranged family? band and Steve deserves to be a part of the conversation.

Eddie sits up, bringing Steve up with him to rest against the headboard. "I've been thinking about the band. Gareth and Jeff, that is." He pauses, waits for some kind of reaction that doesn't come. Steve looks concerned, but not in the way he thought he would.

"Ok." Steve responds, waiting for more.

"I guess I just don't know what to do." He looks out into the middle distance of Steve's bedroom. Takes in the display of swim, basketball, and baseball trophies displayed proudly on a shelf, catching the early morning light. "I'm still so fucking mad. It's honestly kind of irritating how mad it makes me to think of what they did. It was so fucking stupid."

Steve hums a little, letting Eddie get it out.

"But at the same time I can't help but fucking miss them. Miss the music and the campaigns and everything else." It's honestly been eating him alive, the mix of anger and longing he's been feeling for his friends. The constant longing to go back in time and stop them from concocting this shit show but also, like, stalk Gareth to his 8 AM Business class so he can run into Steve and they can fall in love at first sight or some shit.

Silence.

Steve shifts. Moves so he can look Eddie right in the face. He looks thoughtful in a way that Eddie had to get used to. Sometimes when Steve is thinking hard about something, he scrunches his face in such a way that it makes him look like he's judging you. He isn't, it's just an unfortunate fact of life that his baby has a resting Judgemental Face™.

Steve heaves out a big breath, bringing Eddie back down to earth. "I mean, I don't want to, like, cloud your judgement or whatever but maybe you should try and talk to them one more time. Jeff appologized right?"

And, ok that's definetly not what Eddie was expecting to hear. It must show on his face because Steve is suddenly looking away, embaraced.

"I just..." He trails off, taking his own turn staring out at the dull shine of his old acomplishments. Eddie watches as his face once again turns pensive as he stares harder at the remnents of his high school acheivements.

"I used to be a pretty shitty guy. Did the same kind of shit your buddies did a couple of times." This isn't necessarily news to Eddie. They've talked a little about who Steve was in high school and how much work he put into himself before he decided to go back to college. It's still a bit of a shock to hear, though.

"So I get how someone can make a mistake like that, y'know? So if you want to try and talk it out, I won't be offended. I know we're in this together, now." Peace said, Steve reaches for Eddie's hand and gives it a squeeze.

It hits Eddie again, just how good Steve Harrington is. It hasn't been long, not really, since they got together but they've fallen together so completley, so easily, that it's easy to forget that there's still so much they have to learn, so many layers for Eddie to peal back. Behind every judgemental remark and complaint about the frequent phone calls he gets from chuldren he used to babysit in his hometown is a man who cares deeply and is capable of great forgiveness, even if it hasn't been earned yet.

Eddie squeezes his hand back.

"Are you sure?" Eddie asks.

"Yeah, it's not we have to totally forgive them, right? But I think you need to get a real answer from both of them about why it happened. Maybe you can find a way past it, maybe they'll say something that puts the nail in the coffin." He responds.

Eddie takes a deep breath, and thinks.

Steve is right. Eddie isn't satisfied with any of the answers he got last time, and he knows that there has to be more to the story than "trying to get Eddie out of a rut" and he's not going to be able to put any of this to rest until he understands.

"Ok, yeah. I'll call them." Steve gives him an encouraging smile at that, rubbing the back of Eddie's hand where they haven't let go yet.

"Good, I'm glad. And I can come with you if you want. Hit em from both sides." he says. Eddie think's he'll take him up on that offer, but right now he had more imporant things to do. Namely, tackling his sweet boyfriend onto the mattress and having a mid morning tousle.

"We'll see. Right now I've got more imporant things to do." He says in his best aproximation of a sultry voice. He doesn't know how good it really is, but it seems to work based on the way Steve's eyes get hooded and he looks down at Eddie's mouth.

Gotcha.

Before Steve can lean down and kiss him, Eddie snaps his hands down to his boyfriend's sides in a well executed tickle atack. Steve immedietly jolts and starts howling with laughter, yelling between breaths that Eddie is "a fucking asshole" as he continues his relentless atacks.

Eventually, Steve manages to regain his bearings and go on the offence, turning them over and trapping his boyfriend's hands beneath his knees so he can atack Eddie's equally ticklish sides.

Once the late morning has passes into early noon and they've both settled back into Steve's signifigantly more rumpled be, Eddie takes one more moment to think about the furute to come before he shelves it. He knows that whatever conversation is to come, it won't be easy, and even if things go as smoothly as possible with Gareth and Jeff, things will never be the same between them all.

Looking down at Steve, who is sporting the most outrageous bedhead in human history, laughing at the stream of reals Robin sent him in the middle of the night, he thinks he'll be okay either way.

Tag List

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[sidemari]

• Reunited •

Character: Viktor (Arcane) x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Mature content ahead, so only 18+ are allowed to interact. Read responsibly and enjoy! Forgive me for any mistakes, English isn't my first language.

Context: After a cruel breakup some years ago, you both gave each other a chance to reconnect.

Did that feel pleasant. Humping against each other, clothes still restraining the entirety of the sensations, sincere confessions, rapid kisses that were full of hunger and devotion. The perfect scenery for a reconnection.

"It's not normal how much I missed you" He whispered against your neck, inhaling your scent.

"Viktor…" Your fingers caressed his hair strands with delicacy.

His soft lips trailed the path right to the sensitive spot under your ear, mumbling with a pleading tone a "Make me yours".

You guided him to sit on the bed, his back finding support against the headboard. Straddling his lap, you captured his lips on a kiss that initially was slow and pure before it turned into a urgent battle for dominance - a battle you lost on purpose.

His tongue explored your mouth with ease, igniting something inside of you only him could. You squirmed, pressing your own aching core against his crotch, earning a moan of his against your lips.

"Fuck, this f-feels good" His voice was hoarse from the kiss recently broken as his own hands hoovered against your hips before grabbing them with a strong grip, guiding your movements against his already hard shaft.

Shivering hands went from your hips to your torso, unbuttoning your shirt, exposing your bare chest, his eyebrows furrowing with the sight, eyes glowing in awe.

"You're so utterly perfect, so utterly beautiful" His voice was no more but a mewl as you blinked with affection to his words, giving him the chaste smile he fell in love with when he was just an undercity kid. "I can't get enough of you" His thumbs caressed your nipples, earning a whimper from you.

"Viktor-" His name left your lips in such delightful way.

"Keep humping against me, I wanna feel you" He pleaded as his skilled hands explored your breasts.

"Vitya…" He blinked slowly, inhaling slowly as if he was trying his very best to simply not fuck you dumb right there.

Your sounds were driving him insane.

Not only them, but your smell, the softness of your skin, your expressions and reactions made him feel human again.

"I need you now… Fuck, I need you so m-much" He gasped, sloppily taking of your clothes while you helped him with his own clothing.

He was dripping pre-cum, so ready to claim you as his once again. "Please-" You stole another kiss from him as your hand guided his cock to only tease your clit and folds, but he broke the kiss with urge to beg you.

"Please, my love… I need to be inside of you now" He muttered against your lips, control and reasoning long lost.

You sank yourself against him, his cock stretching your walls so deliciously, reaching the deepest part within you you shuddered.

You couldn't deny him anything.

Not when he looked so devoted under you.

Not when he begged to be inside of you.

"Viktor!" You moaned, your hand guiding him to leave a trail of kisses against your neck. For some seconds, you just enjoyed the sensation of having each other again, too overwhelmed to do much more.

"I missed this s-so much" His accent was more prominent than usual, a sign he wasn't really controlling his behavior, the pressure of always being untouchable and perfect long ignored.

You had taught him - oh, so patiently - that being vulnerable was human, that there was absolutely nothing wrong with that. It was so precious seeing him like this, accepting and finding comfort in being vulnerable around you.

Not much people besides you knew how adorable he could be, he wasn't the type of guy who would allow anyone to cross his usual facade so ordinarily.

His hand went to your heat, stimulating your clit with his slick fingers with the right amount of pressure to make you melt above him. Biting down your lips, you suppressed a moan, gaze still locked with his own.

"Can I?" You asked quietly against his ear, caressing his soft hair with love. He nodded, whispering a plea before gripping your hips once again, guiding your movements and speeding up the their rhythm.

Every time you felt his cock bottoming inside of you, you shivered in pleasure, gasping his name like it was the only word you knew. Before you could notice, one of his hands went to your face level.

"Open your mouth" He asked between pants, his middle and ring finger teasing your lower lip. You obeyed him, naively waiting for his next instruction. "Suck them" You coated his fingers with saliva, not breaking eye contact with him a single time. "Good girl" Your heart fluttered with those words.

"You feel so good" You whined, one of your hands reaching for the one on your hip, driving it to massage your breast. His thumb abused your sensitive nipple as his ministrations on your clit grew ardently. "Just like that…"

"Fuck, Viktor-" His fingers pinched your clit just to see your reaction and gods, did you leave the most precious sound until now escape from your lips.

You looked so painfully flawless.

Taking all of him, allowing him to claim you as his once again.

He couldn't help but squirm under you, thrusting his hips upwards just to fill you up deeper than usual.

"Ride me faster" He muttered before his mouth attacked your neck, leaving marks you probably wouldn't be able to hide so easily. You obliged his words, so close to coming undone it hurt.

He knew you with the back of his hands.

It was clear you were almost there.

(*Expression that means "my love" in Czech.)

"V-Viktor… I can't-" You whined, tears pooling the corner of your eyes, unable to finish your phrase.

"I know, me too, moje láska*" His hands caressed your back before pulling you impossibly close to him.

The tension inside of you snapped after some torturous seconds, your walls contracting around him in waves of pleasure. He followed, filling you up completely with his essence. You leaned against his chest, his heart pounding against your ear.

You didn't move.

You hadn't the strength to do so.

You just enjoyed the safety and warmth he offered you.

He softly kissed the top of your head, his fingers tracing patterns against the small of your back, sending shivers down your spine.

"I could stay like this forever" You muttered, snuggling against him.

A chuckle left his lips and your heart skipped a beat at the adorable sound. You had missed him so much.

"I thought you wouldn't allow me in again, after…" His voice dropped off, and you felt him swallowing hardly. "I'm grateful you forgave me when I only deserved contempt" His fingers combed your hair, making you soothe.

"You had a lot on your plate back then, I don't blame you"

"I do blame myself and perhaps I'll always do for shattering your heart back then. Still, I'm willing to prove you I can be the one you deserve"

[moomuzan]

⋆·˚ ༘ * 𝖆𝖑𝖜𝖆𝖞𝖘 𝖋𝖔𝖗𝖊𝖛𝖊𝖗

ꜱʏɴᴏᴘꜱɪꜱ they are insanely obsessed with you

ᴄʜᴀʀᴀᴄᴛᴇʀꜱ yandere!bsd men! dazai , fyodor , chuuya

It started small, almost imperceptible. The people who once filled your life—the casual friends, the familiar faces—began to drift away. A canceled plan here, an unanswered text there. At first, you brushed it off as coincidence, the natural ebb and flow of relationships. But then, one by one, the spaces in your life grew emptier, and the only constant that remained was him.

Dazai’s touch in your life was invisible to you but deliberate to him, every thread meticulously pulled to tighten the cocoon he was weaving around you. He told himself it was for love—for your protection. He convinced himself that each person he removed, each tie he severed, was another weight lifted from your fragile existence.

This man made it so easy, so seamless. A quiet word to Kunikida about how overworked you seemed lately, how you needed less responsibility and more time to rest. A subtle comment to Atsushi about giving you space because “too many people leaning on her might overwhelm her.” Even Yosano found herself discouraged from dragging you into her office for her usual banter, all because Dazai planted doubts in her mind about your health, your fragility.

When he intercepted the letter from an old friend of yours, he told himself it was love, tucking it into his desk drawer instead of giving it to you. He told himself it was love when he manipulated missions so that you were always with him, never with anyone else, where he could watch over you, shield you.

Every step he took, every string he pulled, was justified in his mind. “The world is cruel,” he would tell himself, pacing the confines of his apartment, his hands trembling with the intensity of his convictions. “But I can keep her safe. I can keep her happy. Isn’t that love?”

And when doubts crept in—when the hollow echo of your laughter, now rarer and more subdued, made him pause—he buried them deep. You needed him. You might not see it yet, but you did. The thought reassured him, soothed him, even as he sat alone in the dark, the weight of his actions pressing heavily on his chest.

Of course, he never questioned the morality of it since morality had never been part of his equation. The lines between right and wrong blurred the moment he decided he couldn’t lose you, couldn’t bear the thought of anyone or anything stealing you away.

Every time he looked at you, he reassured himself while his gaze lingered far too long, drinking in the sight of you like a man drowning. He told himself it was love when he watched you sleep, the soft rise and fall of your breath calming the storm in his chest, it was love when he saw the way you smiled at him, even if that smile didn’t reach your eyes like it used to. It must have been.

Still, there were moments—fleeting, fragile moments—when his mask cracked. Late at night, as he sat in his chair with a glass of whiskey untouched in his hand, he would wonder if this was love or obsession. He would remember Oda’s words, that love should be selfless, freeing, not this suffocating, consuming thing. But then he would think of you in the arms of someone else, laughing with someone else, and the thought alone was enough to make his blood turn cold. “It’s love,” he would whisper to himself, his voice hollow, his fingers curling tightly around the glass. “It has to be.”

„You are sick,” you whispered when you finally confronted him, the room drawing shadows heavier than the ones in his soul, though the words lacked the venom you intended. “This isn’t love. It’s control. It’s—it’s wrong.”

“Wrong?” He tilted his head, his expression a mixture of amusement and heartbreak, as though the very notion pained him. “Tell me, does the bird hate its cage when it keeps it from predators? Does it curse the one who feeds it, protects it, cherishes it?”

Like a pang of doubt that rippled through your resolve, the analogy struck something deep within you. He stepped closer still, his forehead nearly touching yours, his breath warm against your skin.

“I’m doing this for you,” he said, and there was something almost mournful in his tone, as though he regretted your inability to see things his way. “You’re too precious to be left at the mercy of the world. I won’t let it destroy you. I won’t let anyone destroy you. Even if it means you hate me for it.”

Although you wanted to fight back, to scream, to push him away, the weight of his words pressed against you, leaving you vulnerable and unsure. He had always been good with words—too good—and now they tangled in your mind like webs, trapping you in the complexity of his logic.

Yet the longer you stood there, the more the fight drained out of you. Maybe it was the exhaustion of always doubting, always questioning. Or maybe it was the quiet, insidious truth that a part of you didn’t want to leave him. He had taken so much from you, but he had also filled the void in ways you couldn’t explain, couldn’t deny.

When he finally pulled back, his eyes searched yours, and what you saw there wasn’t triumph—it was devotion. Twisted, unrelenting, suffocating devotion.

“I love you,” he said simply, and the words felt like both a confession and a death sentence.

You exhaled shakily, your voice barely above a whisper. “I don’t know if I can believe you.”

Sad, almost wistful, he smiled as though he had anticipated your answer. “You will,” he said. “In time, you’ll see that I’m the only one who truly cares for you. And when you do, I’ll be here. Always.”

And though every fiber of your being told you to run, you stayed. Because the truth was, as terrifying as his love was, the thought of being without it scared you even more.

Deeply so, this break had shattered something inside Chuuya. It wasn’t just the loss of a partner, a comrade—no, it was something deeper, more primal. The day Dazai left was the day the world tilted, the day his mind fractured in ways even he couldn’t have predicted. It wasn’t just about losing Dazai—it was about the fear of losing someone else, losing anyone else. That gnawing, desperate hunger to keep you close, to shield you from everything, to keep you from slipping through his fingers like Dazai had.

Naturally, he did what he had to do.

Once a space of normality, your room, was now a carefully constructed fortress. The curtains were always drawn, a soft, dim light casting everything in a sickly shade. He would stand outside your door for hours, listening for any sound, any sign that you were still there, still within his grasp. He had the ability to make his presence felt even when he wasn’t physically near you—his shadow stretching across your life, always lurking. Always watching.

When you woke in the mornings, he was there. When you went to sleep at night, he was still there, seated in the corner of your room, a glass of whiskey in hand, his gaze never leaving you.

The mafia executive wasn’t cruel. No, not at first. His charm, his words, they were as sweet as they were deadly. “I’m only doing this for us,” he would say, his voice warm, almost affectionate. He’d smile, but it never reached his eyes. “No one will hurt you. Not like they hurt me.”

He’d coax you into talking, into laughing, into behaving. His hands were gentle at first, trailing across your skin, tucking stray strands of hair behind your ear. He’d tell you how beautiful you were, how precious you were, how lucky he was to have you all to himself. But every compliment, every touch, had an underlying current of control, an unspoken warning that you could never escape.

The world outside was no longer yours to navigate. No, Chuuya had made sure of that. You rarely left his quarters now—only when he deemed it necessary. Even then, he would accompany you, his eyes always watching. His influence reached deep into the Mafia, cutting off connections before they even had a chance to form. If you met with someone outside of his approval, they were gone. If anyone, anyone, even thought of stepping too close to you, they found themselves dealt with in ways you never saw coming.

With you no longer being free to come and go as you pleased, your missions were reduced, controlled, and carefully managed. No one would dare take you away from him. They knew what would happen if they did. Chuuya had made his message clear—you were his.

And yet, when you complied, when you didn’t resist, when you behaved, he was charming, attentive, a lover in every sense of the word. He’d lavish you with gifts, with praise, with everything you wanted and needed, until you almost forgot the trap that had closed around you. The sweetness of his attention almost made you believe that perhaps, just perhaps, this was the way things were meant to be. That maybe the way he looked at you—like a rare, priceless gem—was the way love was supposed to feel.

Yet when you didn’t behave—when you pushed, even slightly, when you questioned him or tried to leave—that’s when the change came. The door would slam shut behind you, his smile would vanish and he charming words would turn into cold, clipped sentences.

“Don’t make me remind you who’s in charge here.” His voice would be low, but there was no kindness left in it. Only an edge, sharp and unforgiving. When you would try to retreat, to hide from him, he would follow you—always.

“I’m not letting you leave,” he’d whisper in the dark, his breath warm against your neck, a cruel contrast to the steel in his tone. “Not again. I can’t lose you too.”

And then, there was that shift—like something snapping—in the way he moved, in the way he held you. He would pull you to him with such force that it almost hurt, his hands trembling, but only in that moment, when he feared losing you. His kisses would be hungry, demanding, as if trying to make up for everything he had already lost. His hands would grip your arms, your wrists, too tightly, as if afraid that you might disappear right in front of him.

“You’ll never leave me,” he would say, as much a promise as a threat. “I can’t lose you like I lost him. You understand that, don’t you?”

And in those moments, you could see it—the desperation behind his eyes. The way his usual smug demeanor broke down into something raw, something fragile. His need for control was no longer subtle—it was desperate, suffocating. Every time you tried to move away, to regain the smallest piece of freedom, he would pull you closer, until your world was nothing but him.

“Please,” you whispered once, “Chuuya, this isn’t love. It’s obsession.”

An empty smile formed on his lips. “Isn’t it the same thing, in the end? You and me… I can’t let you go. Not again. You’re mine, and I’ll keep you safe. No one can take you from me, not ever again.”

And when you didn’t respond, when the hopelessness in your eyes spoke louder than words, he would close the distance, his hands gentle again—though his eyes remained cold, unyielding.

The charm was back, for now. But the coldness, the possessiveness, lingered beneath the surface, always. Because Chuuya had seen what happened when you slipped away from him before, and he would never make that mistake again.

You were his now, and he was never going to let you forget it.

It began so slowly, you didn’t notice at first. People started to slip from your life, fading like mist, until one day, you looked around and realized the room felt quieter than it ever had before. Your friends, the ones who had once made you laugh, once filled your life with noise and warmth, were no longer around. Their texts became less frequent, the calls abandoned, the invitations to dinner or even simple catch-ups slowly turning into hollow echoes of what they once were.

At first, you reasoned with yourself. People get busy. Life shifts. Maybe they just didn’t need you anymore, just as you had begun to doubt the sincerity of some relationships in your own life. But as time passed, you began to notice one constant that remained, like a shadow that stretched across your world—Fyodor Dostoevsky: The man who was always there, always watching, always waiting. The more others drifted away, the closer he became, until it felt almost like a necessity. He would always ask how you were, but the words felt laced with something more, as if he already knew, already understood. Perhaps that’s why, despite the growing isolation, you didn’t push him away. Because, in truth, he was the only one who seemed to see you, the only one who seemed to understand what you were feeling, even when you didn’t know yourself.

Yet when the silence grew louder, the empty spaces between texts grew wider, Fyodor’s presence was a gentle murmur, his soft gaze reassuring in its subtle way. He didn’t say much, but he was always there, sitting across from you, those dark eyes watching, studying you like a puzzle he had already solved. His proximity became an anchor, even if you weren’t sure why you needed it.

“You are the only one who understands me,” you’d hear him whisper sometimes, his voice so soft it felt like an incantation, a fragile truth you never quite dared to speak.

While you told yourself that you understood, too, you saw his world, too. You recognized his loneliness. His isolation. His need to control everything, to manipulate the chaos that surrounded him, to shape reality the way he wanted. You understood because, in some twisted way, his isolation mirrored yours. You, too, had been abandoned by those who once mattered. You, too, had felt the creeping emptiness, the quiet desolation that threatened to swallow you whole.

But what did it mean when Fyodor told you, “You are the only one who understands me”? Was it love? Was it genuine, or just another manipulation, another carefully spun thread designed to pull you deeper into his world, a world that you felt, over time, was slowly becoming your own?

He never had to make grand declarations. He really didn’t need to. His quiet, constant presence was enough. Each time you looked at him, you could see the way he measured every moment, every glance, the way he waited for you to take the first step. He made you feel special, in a way that was both intoxicating and suffocating. When he touched you—just a brush of his fingers against yours, a fleeting, lingering gaze—you didn’t pull away. How could you? You wanted to be close to him. But the closer you got, the more you wondered if this was how it was always meant to be: your life, your entire existence, distilled into this quiet, almost oppressive bond between the two of you.

Though few, his words were always chosen with care. “The world is a cruel place,” he would murmur, his eyes narrowing ever so slightly as he leaned in closer, just enough to send a shiver down your spine. “But I would never abandon you like the others have. I know you better than they ever could.” His smile was slight, almost imperceptible, but there was something in it—something dark—that made your heart skip.

As you stopped questioning him, the isolation, the growing distance from everyone else, felt inevitable, like the natural progression of your life. With each subtle shift, you found that the empty spaces filled with him, and his smile, cold and calculated, became all you had. When your phone rang now, it was always Fyodor. When someone else tried to reach out, you would hesitate, knowing it was only him who could make you feel understood, make you feel like you mattered.

And yet, there were nights—long, lonely nights—when you would wonder. You would sit in the dim light of your apartment, staring at the reflection in the window, and ask yourself if this was really what you wanted.

But those doubts never lasted long. Fyodor was always there, always beside you, his presence so unyielding that even when you wanted to scream, you couldn’t, you shouldn’t.

“You don’t need them,” he would say, his voice soft as he stood behind you, placing a hand on your shoulder. “Not when you have me.”

There was comfort in those words. There was safety. Protection. And the longer you stayed, the more the world outside seemed distant, irrelevant. No one else could give you this, no one else could fill the silence like he could.

“You’re the only one who truly understands me,” he repeated one night, his words low, heavy, as his hands slipped around your waist, pulling you into him. There was something cold in the way he said it, but it wasn’t unkind. It wasn’t harsh.

Wanting to argue, wanting to tell him that he was wrong, that this wasn’t how love worked, you hesitated because, in that moment, you realized with a terrible clarity that you, too, didn’t know what love was anymore. All you knew was him. All you knew was this dark, quiet world he had created, a world where you were his and no one else’s.

Deep down, unraveling in that place you didn’t want to acknowledge, you understood. He was right. No one else understood you the way he did. No one else saw the loneliness in you, the one that he so carefully nurtured. You were his. And he was yours.

There was no escape anymore. Only him. Only his presence.

And so, with a quiet surrender, you accepted it. Because, after all, you told yourself, he was the only one who understood you.

hello a/n i went partially insane with chuuyas part … hehe ??

[lymtw]

hello! can you write about mafia Toji being a stern and serious guy when he's with other people and his men, but when he's with you he's like a softie teddy bear. And then one day he was tired, laying on your chest in his office. And then his men walked in, noticing Toji acting like a baby with you and when Toji noticed his men, he quickly got off you and wore a stern mask again

Thank you!! 💕

Toji got so used to being told 'yes sir' and 'right away, boss', each response finalized with a well-deserved bow of respect to him. Those responses were all he heard every day as he managed his less than small group of criminals.

He had about ten men roaming around, all partnered with different purposes. To put it in simple words, they are his senses, divided, even though in the end, all of them share something in common. They are his eyes.

Despite the certain level of respect Toji holds for his subordinates, he does not treat them like friends. He doesn't smile at them, he doesn't sugarcoat his words for them, and he will not hesitate to sock them in the face if he feels offended by something they say to him. He can be cruel in the way that often makes his men wonder if there's an actual heart that is keeping him alive.

You are his heart.

With your gorgeous smile, and the pretty lullaby you have for a voice, and your pretty hair, and that scent that lingers around you that drives him just a little bit insane when he can't hold you the way he wants to. You are everything to Toji. His doll, his sweetheart, the love of his life. You are the only thing that could make his heart race with a single glance. He makes sure to have his finest men guarding you when you leave your house.

Whenever you want to come see him, you're escorted by two of his men. You try to make conversation, but they both just stare ahead and ignore what you say. They have nothing against you, personally, and it does make them feel a little bad when you ask them questions and they don't respond, resulting in a more silent walk towards Toji's office. They think you're the sweetest girl, but Toji forbid them from talking to you about anything outside of your security. It seemed like it was more of a threat, with the way he played with a knife the entire time that he relayed the instructions in regard to your protection.

There are three knocks to the wooden door. The men step aside and stand at each side of the doorframe while you wait for the green light from Toji.

"Enter." You hear from the other side of the door. You turn left and right to thank the men, before opening the door.

You're met with a straight face, from Toji. Intense eye contact as you take a few more steps into the room, until you aren't in the way of the door. You replicate that unfaltering poker face of his. To anyone who's seen this showdown of a scene, it appears like you're some brat that Toji's been charged with babysitting. He has the most deadpan expression. He doesn't even look happy to see you, nor you him.

All of that changes the second the door clicks shut. You get to see his eyes soften and the way his lips curl upward, in real time. He nods in the direction of the doorknob, a silent request for you to turn the lock. He can visibly see how giddy you are, your smile growing before you turn to lock the door. All the weight on his shoulders is dropped when you turn back around and look at him with those adoring eyes. He pats his desk, a gesture that has you running to him. You crash into him, making him stumble back a little bit which makes him chuckle as he lifts you by the backs of your thighs, onto his desk.

You pull at his white button up, and his hands settle on your waist. He's kissing you eagerly, like this visit from you is exactly what he needed. You can't keep up with the affectionate assault so you're giggling into the kisses, your lips occasionally slipping from his.

He exhales after breaking the kiss. "How's your day going, sweetheart?" His hands go down to your thighs, thumbs brushing back and forth against your soft skin.

"Mmm... well, it's going okay. Could be better, but, it's fine," you say, running your hands over his chest.

"Yeah? Why's that?" He asks, surveying the small, almost nonexistent pout on your lips. He would miss it if he wasn't so used to seeing it.

"Well... I haven't seen you all day. I woke up and you were already gone." Your eyes go down to where your hands rest on his chest, before you look up at him again. "Just want you to know that I miss you, I guess."

"I know, mama. I'm sorry." He leans forward to kiss your forehead. "I'll make it up to you, tonight. 'Cause you know I'm missing the way you love on me."

"Really?" You chirp, enthusiastically, your hands absentmindedly balling his shirt up, again.

"Mhm," he hums, a sly smirk taking form on his lips. "Gotta make sure my pretty girl is taken care of in every way, right?"

"Why not just take care of me here?" You ask, sultrily, as you guide one of his hands beneath your dress and between your thighs. "The door's locked," you say, the reminder adding a glint to your eyes.

"You're a little devil, pretty girl," he whispers, chuckling lowly at the small sigh you release when he drags the pads of his middle and index finger over your heat.

Then there's a knock, to which both of you sigh, frustratedly.

"Promise we'll pick this up later, alright, doll?" His eyes search yours for understanding.

"Okay, baby," you say, a soft, comprehending smile on your face. "Love you."

"Love you," Toji instantly responds. He fixes your dress, before setting you on your feet again.

He looks down at you like he doesn't want you to go, so in an attempt to help him let you go for now, you reach your hand up and give his cheek a gentle pinch. "See you in a bit, handsome."

He grins and watches as you walk away. You turn the lock, turning around once more to blow a single kiss at him, before turning back. You drive him crazy in all the best ways.

You open the door and there are twice as many people swarming. Two more of Toji's men are escorting an important looking man. The two guys who brought you there are by your side again, walking you back down the hallway. The second you're out of sight, Toji's hardened exterior is rebuilt all over again.

-

Sometimes Toji needs a break from everything. From being surrounded all the time by people he doesn't want to see, from having to be the brains of every operation, from having to meet with multiple people every other day. It's exhausting. He really just needs to stop thinking so hard for a little while. What better way to relax than to have his pretty girl by his side?

You're summoned under the guise of needing to discuss important matters. Once again, you're being guided through that same hallway to Toji's office. Normally, you would make one sided conversation with your escorts, but you can't shake the feeling that something is wrong. Have you lost your value to Toji? Did you do something wrong? It's all so terrifying, the void-like feeling only deepening as you reach that familiar wooden door. You knock three times, and are permitted to come in by that same voice saying "enter".

You look at him, that usual initial poker face now overtaken by concern. You shut the door and make your way towards his desk. "Is everything okay? What important matters need to be discussed?" You lay your palms flat on the table.

"Calm down, baby." He sighs, standing and walking around the desk to meet you on the other side. He takes your hand and leads you to the leather couch on the right side of the room. "Lay down. Get comfortable," he says, calmly.

You do as he says and lay down, not expecting him to follow you and plop himself right on top of you.

"Is this comfortable for you?" He asks, muffled by your chest. His feet are dangling off the armrest of the couch, but he doesn't care.

"Sure, baby. What about you?" Your smile is evident in your tone. He's being extra clingy and it's adorable.

He lifts his head a little. "Fuck yeah. So comfortable, doll," he says, before planting his face back into your chest. He sighs, tucking his hands beneath your back. "Can you do that thing you always do with your nails? Please?"

"Of course," you say, raking your nails over his back, taking your time to reach his head. "What's wrong, my love?" You coo.

"Nothing, doll. I'm just so tired. Not feeling anything but you, today." Another sigh leaves him when your nails start dragging over the back of his head, threading through his hair, carefully.

"I completely understand, baby. You know you can always call me and i'll be here as fast as I can."

He hums and you take that as one of his nonverbal forms of gratitude. He could fall asleep for a couple minutes like this. Your warm body against his, your comforting touch on him. It's all so peaceful.

Until it isn't. The sound of the door opening snaps him out of his state of serenity. For a situation that was so innocent, he made it appear as though you both were about to get it on, with the way he quickly crawled off of you and sat on the opposite end of the couch.

"Oh, sorry. Didn't know you had company, sir."

You smile at the man and give him a small wave, a huge contrast to the way Toji looks at him.

"Ever heard of knocking? It's a common courtesy that should have been drilled into your pea sized brain when you were a brat." Toji was pissed. He looked like it, too, with his furrowed brows and the scrunch of disgust in his nose, but, you must be imagining the bulging vein in his neck.

"My apologies."

"What the fuck do you want?" He asks, his tone riddled with impatience. "Why are you here?" He spits. His hand discreetly goes to your ankle. He gives it a small squeeze to assure you that none of this lashing out is towards you.

"This envelope was sent for you. We've already taken the measures necessary to determine whether it's safe for you to open or not. There is nothing harmful in there, sir."

"Thanks for the speech. Just leave it on the damn desk." He keeps his eyes on the man the entire time. Since you're in his presence, he feels it's his job to guard you from anyone and everyone. Even his most trusted workers. The man bows and shuts the door, leaving you and Toji alone once again.

"Baby," he says, his tone reverting to the calmness he reserves for you. He sounds somewhat in disbelief of what just happened.

"I-I'm sorry. I was just scared when your guys told me that you needed to discuss important matters with me..."

"Baby."

"...and I walked here really fast because I was so scared..."

"Baby."

"...and when I got here and I saw you I just had to know what was so important and I forgot to lock the door and-"

"Baby, stop. It's fine." His hands cup your cheeks, and he looks into your worry-filled eyes. "I'm not mad at you. I know it was an accident." He's starting to think you thought you were going to catch heat next. He can't have you of all people be scared of him. It wouldn't sit right with him when he sees people who are scared or intimidated by him every day. He can't let another one of those people be you. "Sweetheart, I would never yell at you. I could never be mad at you. You can do no wrong. Alright?"

"Okay," you say, softly, a smile tugging at your lips. "Love you."

"Love you, doll. Now, go lock the door so I can lie down on you, again."

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

A/N: Thank you for the request, anon! 😊 I had fun writing it 💙

[badninken]

Scary Warlord of the Sea - Trafalgar Law

I want to talk about Law's introduction on Punk Hazard, and the fight that follows. Starting with this moment:

It's been an eternity since Law's last appearance in the story when this takes place, and it's the first time he shows up after the time skip. Last time he was seen he was a sleepy-faced dude with a polar bear friend who saved Luffy's life. A bit weird but not very intimidating. This Law though, is first seen skulking in the shadows, offering to help the local villain take care of a notoriously "insane, cruel, and merciless" bunch of marines that's come knocking.

Is Trafalgar Law a villain now? Is he in charge of this very evil-seeming science facility??

Well, he sure looks shady enough to be a villain, and the notoriously merciless marines seem scared out of their fucking minds to see him.

This scene is shorter in the manga but I love the way the anime drags it out by having Tashigi name-drop other Warlords to put his new title and status into perspective. The marines are literally screaming, crying, throwing up over how scary he is, retelling the story of his 100 hearts delivery, all while Law just stands there, smiling.

And that's the thing I wanna talk about. The standing and smiling and how he acts throughout this whole encounter. The way he's leaning against that wall just like he's leaning on his own reputation to do all the work for him. His job in this situation is to scare these people away without letting them know what's going on behind those doors.

If it weren't for Smoker standing his ground, the marines might have simply turned to flee at the sight of him, without Law even having to lift a finger to encourage them. Smoker seems to be having a hard time getting around Law's arguments too. They're both working under the government here and Law doesn't offer any outright hostility or threat for him to act on. Because Law is smart.

Law is handling this navy problem non-violently with minimal effort and it seems to be going according to plan.

But then the Straw hats happen!

And also giant abducted children used for science experiments he had no knowledge of what so ever because he's been minding his own fucking business.

And now he has to deal with taking the blame for horrifying child abuse AND looking like he blatantly lied about the Straw hats and also looking like he's incompetent enough to let all those dirty secrets pop out right behind him in a rain of fucking confetti at the worst possible moment.

(does not deny this)

He looks like he just aged ten years out of pure 'what the actual fuck'-stress. Like, where does he even begin with this situation? He's not responsible for any of that shit. He's just there to destroy some other evils, as discreetly as possible, but now he has to silence an entire unit of marines, just so the mess other people made won't ruin his own plans. Plans that's he's worked on for 13 years. Sounds like a typical Trafalgar Law day.

So he apologizes for saying something that wasn't true and then he handles the problem by causing massive property damage.

While not causing any lasting harm or even pain on a single one of his opponents.

The thing I think is so interesting with looking at Law's behavior in these interactions, is how he plays a role the entire time. He is not a villain, but he deliberately lets people believe that he is capable of great evil and cruel acts for his own gain, because that's his defense. It's a deterrent and a warning. His yellow black patterned coat fits that strategy perfectly, like the message of a wasp or poison dart frog. I can kill you, stay clear.

He keeps the cold, creepy act up the entire battle and makes it known that he could kill everyone there. Easily. He's never even close to trying though, and when he takes Smoker's heart he keeps it safe.

Law has no problem letting people believe horrible things about him if it can get him where he needs to go, but he's famously got a bunch of problems with people thinking he's a good person. I think that plays heavily into why he falls to being Doflamingo-cruel verbally to Tashigi when she goads him to kill her, but there are too many layers and things to say about that particular exchange so I'll save it for another time.

At the end of the day, it's all about this I think:

Law hearing people call him a creepy freak madman vs hearing Luffy say he's lucky to have met him.

[avelera]

hi, I hope you don't mind me coming to kind of vent in your inbox (please toss this out if you do) but I was reading your post on the contrasting way Viktor and Jayce view their first meeting and it got me thinking about how some people just sorta brush aside Jayce's suicide attempt here as being somehow pathetic or an overreaction to what they consider a slap on the wrist and I kinda get really mad about that perspective because I don't think people really follow through on what the trial actually meant for Jayce and what the consequences reasonably could have been. people seem to think he was just embarrassed by the trial without understanding that that kind of reputational hit can be, and clearly was, ruinous.

setting aside entirely the emotional/psychological repercussions of having the thing he'd dedicated roughly 2/3's of his life to taken away, his very public trial ended with his own mother making an insanity plea on his behalf and his extremely wealthy and influential sponsor dropping him like he was radioactive and the actual ruling body of the city declaring him dangerously incompetent. do any of those people who deride him for the suicide attempt actually take the time to think about what that outcome means for him in a social and professional context? he jokes to Caitlyn about working in his family factory but honestly, it is entirely within the realm of possibility that the fallout of the trial has made him a social and professional pariah and his reputation is in such dire straits that he may be entirely unemployable within Piltover, perhaps even to the point of being toxic to his own family business if they take the reputation hit by association with him.

it's not actually hyperbole or an overreaction for him to stand in the wreckage of his life and think his life is over, to be at a complete loss as to how to move forward or come to the belief that moving forward is impossible and despair, especially if he doesn't have a support network which he pretty clearly doesn't. his only connections appear to be his mother and Caitlyn and, for obvious reasons, they're not viable at this time.

he was drowning and Viktor threw him a lifeline and he spends the literal rest of the story trying to return the favor.

Sorry for the delay in responding, there's a lot here I want to address.

First of all, I absolutely agree. I think people underestimate just how much that trial left his life in wreckage. That said, there's a few points I'd like to add some nuance to from my perspective, along the lines of YEAH THIS WAS REALLY BAD and people underestimate how much Viktor did for Jayce with his vote of confidence.

(This is gonna be a long post y'all but I have a LOT of thoughts and feelings about Jayce here so buckle up if you do proceed.)

1 ) The Kirammans dropping him as his patrons is absolutely devastating. It's actually the moment I think I hated Cassandra Kiramman for the most, which was turning Jayce away from her door at his lowest point, and cutting him off from Caitlyn, who seems to be his only friend before Viktor. I think it also demonstrates just how severe the crime was that she did so, by the way, I don't think she was just being cruel for the sake of it. But the fact that in 1.04 she's then showing off Jayce as an accomplishment of her house is particularly infuriating as a result. It's also no exaggeration to say that the Kiramman rejection was the final straw for him. After that, he decided to take his own life, so Cassandra would have been, in my opinion, directly responsible for his death (ironically saving her own life down the line, but then Arcane S1 is a series of hinging butterfly effect moments) if not for Viktor.

2 ) One layer of nuance I wanted to add to the Kiramman rejection in particular that you mentioned is the idea of him working at the Talis hammer factory because I think about this a LOT.

I do want to push back a little on the idea that he wouldn't be able to make a living for himself at the Talis hammer factory. To me (as someone whose family has a family business, though I don't work for it), it was never in doubt Jayce would have been able to work there the rest of his life. It might have been the only place he could get a job in Piltover, in fact, at least one with any sort of prestige or intellectual pursuit attached (basically, with anyone attached or graduated from the Academy).

However, I think Jayce would have had to work in a non-scientific part of the factory, either out on the floor or in the back office. And this is what I've been wanting to address in meta for a while now.

Caitlyn asks him what he's going to do next and Jayce says, "Work for the Talis hammer factory, I guess?" and she exclaims, "You can't do that!"

I think the nuance missing from your point that I'd like to add my view of that scene to is that Caitlyn is essentially saying, "That would kill you."

I get the very strong impression that Caitlyn and Jayce bonded over being members of their family who wanted bigger things than what their parents wanted for them. It's basically there on the page in this exchange.

We explore directly that Caitlyn wants to be a detective instead of working in politics like her mother, and pursues her dream despite adversity and her mother's disapproval.

But I think from this exchange and the one Jayce also has with his mother Ximena, we can glean that the Talis's also wanted Jayce to work for the factory, the family business, instead of going to the Academy to pursue his dream of magic.

(Also as a person whose family has a family business, that I don't work for, that has their own career and faced a lot of consternation from my family in my desire to be a writer, I feel this one very keenly.)

Jayce to me reads as someone who had to fight his family all his life to avoid going into the family business, in his pursuit of something greater.

With the Hextech dream taken away, all that's left to him is his family business, the thing I'd argue we have evidence that he's been fighting to avoid his whole life. It doesn't inspire him. It's not what he wants.

Joining the Talis factory would kill him. And that's what Caitlyn points out, and that's when he realizes she's right and goes to finish the job by his own hand instead. Further evidence I would say that working for his family business would represent a death of the soul to him, such that a physical death is preferable. But since his family built the business, and his mother clearly has reservations about his pursuit of magic, I think we can safely say he's been feeling similar pressures to Caitlyn to conform and join the business instead.

3 ) Now to go back to Viktor, I think this is another reason that Viktor literally and spiritually saved Jayce's life. Jayce outright says to his mother that if his own family won't believe in him, he'll find someone who will. Whether you read Viktor/Jayce as platonic or romantic (spouses are family, after all, which is how I read it), Viktor is Jayce's family from that point forward.

But Viktor doesn't bring Jayce back from the brink just by believing in him at his lowest moment (which is so powerful it can't be underestimated, btw) he also gives Jayce a bit of tough love too just when Jayce needs it.

Like many children of privilege (I'd firmly put Mel in this category, since she too is "trapped in the family business" I'd argue), Jayce saw himself at rock bottom after he lost his patron, the benefits of his House name, his family's support, his research, his equipment, access to his one friend, his access to the Academy, and his reputation.

Viktor points out that he never had any of those things growing up.

I think this is a welcome slap in the face for Jayce. Viktor rose to be the Dean's assistant on ability alone, without any of the scaffolding of privilege, and it humbles Jayce just when he needs it. Viktor is telling him that Jayce already has everything he needs to succeed and that others like Viktor have gotten further with less.

So not only does Viktor give his vote of confidence, he materially shows Jayce there is a way to achieving his dreams without all of the things he just lost.

Not only that, he's won the respect and assistance of someone who has done it before, someone who admires him for what he's done, someone who will help him make this dream a reality when no one else would.

Of course Jayce dedicated his life to Viktor after that. Of course he saw Hextech as their shared dream after that. I'd argue that of course he saw his life as belonging to Viktor after that point, because Viktor saved it.

[queenie-the-court-jester]

HII, saw your post on wanting asks, well here 🫶 I love talking so, and specifically on playboy yandere!! I'm a sucker for angst and yanderes falling into insanity honestly, so let me ramble a bit

- imagine if reader graduates highschool and gets an overseas scholarships!! They also convince their family to move together with them so Kameron can't hurt or use them to blackmail reader. So with only a break up text saying like "bye manwhore 😍😍", blocking and deleting all their social media, I wonder how long and how far would he take to get reader back again? Would he inherit his parent's riches, hire some private investigatiors to find reader and find the country they're living in, expand his business over to their country in order to gain power to trap his darling. And I wonder how deranged his reaction would be to reader's text and be like no way, they're joking right, and runs to their house and whatever usual spots they're at normally, and just break down into insanity. would he try to use substitutes for reader to maintain his sanity or go fully devoid of emotions and start working hard to gain power and influence to find reader again!! I'm also curious how he would process his darling leaving him, would he become delusional first, saying they got kidnapped or something, or some ex or fling of his hurt reader, and then proceed to anger, depression, grief and then finally accept the reality!!

Ok that's a lot of rambling 😭😭 hope it's okay. I rlly enjoyed that fic, was rent FREE in my mind for a whole day

you know luci, you just gave me an idea. So have a part TWO of THIS DUMBASS HOE 🤝

Yandere playboy x reader

Tw: mentions of murder, kameron being delulu, yandere and obsessive behavior

💋kameron was having another breakdown. Sobbing pathetically on the floor of your old bedroom. Just how did you run away? And on such short notice too!? Didn't his love mean anything to you!? WHY DID YOU ABANDON HIM?

💋a million thoughts swirled through his head, until he finally got one that just... stuck. He had to get you back. No matter how long it takes. Getting up and dusting himself off, he kicked the front door open and quickly left the empty house

💋it was a shame really. The once sane and popular boy was struggling to keep his image. So he got help. Not professional as in therapists and medication. Just hiring other students to cover for him Incase he slipped up. all while snooping through the head teachers computer to see if they had any notes on where you might have gone. He almost got caught a few times

"shit that was close.. i can't believe these idiots leave their passwords just anywhere"

💋he knew he shouldn't be back at the school, especially since he graduated but he needs all the information he can get. Eventually moving onto private investigators and online stalking through multiple other accounts. He'd try anything just to see what his darling was doing without him. Were you enjoying making him suffer? You're so cruel..

💋hiring other people to befriend you and lower your guard, gathering any Information they can

💋 kameron who spent a while convincing his parents to let him take hold of the company. He had a degree, a bright mind, responsibility. He's perfect for the job! Oh if only they knew where his 60% was going.. funding multiple businesses across the world in exchange for keeping a careful eye. Making him quite the celebrity

💋look darling! He's on the news-! ...oh right you're not here.. one evening, while working in his office, a new secretary comes in to introduce themselves. They look just like you! He could only stare in shock.

"my love..? Is that you!?"

"..who?"

💋turns out it was just a doppelganger. But with enough time he'd delude himself into thinking it was you. Courting them with the same flowers, chocolates and jewelry he'd given you. It worked like a charm! Now you were back In their arms again. They felt whole..

💋he married your lookalike a year later, the poor fool being too naive and oblivious to think. He was happy for awhile.. or until one of his P.I's came in to show him they found you. His reality started to break.

💋no.. how could he do this to you. Replacing you with some cheap street whore. That night, when they went to bed, he gave them a cup of water and smiled sweetly. Watching as their face went red and they started to cough for air after gulping it down. Clawing at the sheets and staring at him with wide fearful eyes. Begging him to help them

"...slut."

💋 burrying the body in his backyard, he paid people with underground connections to cover for him while he was away. Claiming they suddenly vanished, having run away with a small fortune. How idiotic are people, to actually believe him..

💋kameron disguised himself and went straight for the country you decided to flee too. 5 years apart from you.. he had no idea how he managed to live so long without his beloved, but it was all worth it. Because now you'll be back where you belong. In his arms.

💋you were busy working at your job, running a small business was no joke but atleast the people in the area were friendly. So you didn't notice the suited figure Infront of your cash register

"thank you, please come again-"

💋you froze, looking up at the terrifyingly familiar face. He stared back at you with only glee and love

"hello my darling~ you've been on a naughty streak for a while Haven't you? That's okay, I'll just set you straight when we go back home."

💋big burly men all blocked you from escaping by guarding the doors. Dragging all the other customers out so you both could have your moment. Now you could never leaver leave him. Ever.

[yuanology]

I imagine spanking Satoru in my lap while whispering lewd things about him being a pervert while the only thing he can do is sob and bite my shoulder ,bby is so lost in pleasure he wishes to end up as satisfied as his best friend who is laying asleep in front of him but bby is so new he is ashamed of asking so force him into telling what he wants and then like …corruption kink akksnwkaoaoao😋🐸 idkkkk 🫨

hey ...... i'm sorry in advance for this one. i don't fucking know what this is either. also, this ended up being an entirely separate thing from the original satosugu fic & this is just........ afab!satoru getting his cunt slapped raw while suguru—who's implied to have been fucked by reader earlier—is passed the fuck out. &. i ended up writing this as a teacher!suguru au a.k.a everything goes well au so yeah, don't get confused

despite common first impression, twenty-eight years old gojo "the strongest" satoru had never been touched by anyone before. yes, you heard that right. he was still a virgin; pure and untouched.

before he came to jujutsu tech—before he left home, before he found out about the world, before he realised that he was practically a damn princess stuck in his tower—satoru hadn't even thought of the art of carnal pleasure. he had thought it was just something that happened, not something to indulge himself in.

growing up amongst people his age had been an awakening, that was for certain. his hands started wrapping around himself more often, the collar of his shirt caught between his teeth as he stifled the noise escaping his throat. porn became a commodity, and satoru wasn't exactly oblivious to it, he just never had the time or opportunity to try it.

until you.

satoru let loose another sob, tears streaking down his face. his teeth was caught around the meat of your shoulder, and he could barely breathe around it, much less speak coherently. he still whimpered, "too much."

"you wanted this," you reminded him, your voice low and dirty and so, so fucking real that it's driving him insane. nothing—nothing, no lewd images or videos or even his own imagination—could compare to the feeling of you right now. "you asked me for this, baby."

and you were right. he had asked for this, craving your closeness just as much as he craved the feeling of your hands on him. he had asked you for this, physically and audibly begged you to give him a taste of the things that he had seen and watched all these years.

finally, satoru had thought to himself when he met you properly for the first time. finally, someone who can understand. who can finally give me what i need. it hadn't taken much time before he was on his knees, begging for you to give him everything and so much more. men like gojo satoru didn't make a habit out of begging, but you were an exception amongst many others.

your only response had been a raised, unimpressed eyebrow before you told him that you would consider it. he didn't blame you for it. it wasn't as if your relationship with his own best friend, suguru, was a secret, even if it wasn't official. but satoru had to try.

(and he had asked suguru about it already, kicking at the floorboard underneath him with an out-of-character show of shyness, until suguru had laughed at him, clapped him on the shoulder, and said, "yeah, sure. what's mine is yours and all that—if you can get him to agree, that is." so.)

but when he had asked you to show him what it meant to feel good hurt during sex, he had never expected you to do this to him—to be so mean and so fucking rough, to be so, so desperately cruel to him in ways that he had never seen you do to anyone else.

fuck, satoru thought dazedly. the position—his body bent over your lap, his ass high in the air and his cunt flushes, twitching, and so fucking exposed—had him distinctly dizzy, his head dropping at an awkward angle on the mattress but he didn't care.

he blinked away the tears in his eyes, but the slumped figure of his best friend's body passed out a behind you on the bed remained blurry. how the fuck do you handle this? he wondered.

he let out another whimper when your hand met the meat of his ass, and he could feel it fucking jiggle. he found it so humiliating, but you must think otherwise because you groped his asscheek with an air of smugness. you pried his ass apart, making him grimace when he felt his slick slide down his thigh, betraying him.

"look at you, baby," you cooed, chuckling to yourself. "you're fucking dripping all over the place. you're so desperate for it, huh? pretty virgin like you probably doesn't even know what it's like to be touched like this."

your voice was a light musing, distinctly distant and almost detached in your amusement, but satoru couldn't help but feel raw all over; an exposed nerve ready to be flayed over an open fire. he was sensitive, each inch of his skin a weakness that leaves him feel vulnerable.

"hurts," satoru croaked out miserably, feeling a bit like a fool for saying it. his words are garbled, slurred—almost watery in a way satoru hadn't known was possible before.

"hm." your hand left his hand, making a whine escape the back of satoru's throat. his voice returned to something subdued, something calmer, when he realised that you're simply moving to rest your hand on the small of his back.

"i suppose i can give you mercy," you said, your voice a low drawl that sent goosebumps racing along his skin. "just this once."

satoru couldn't help the whimper that escaped him. even through the heavy haze in his mind, he knew that he couldn't have this without a price. you always demanded an equal pay be returned for the price of your kindness. he had watched you wring dry orgasm after orgasm out of suguru, even when his best friend's body was limp, practically motionless save for the overstimulated twitches and the sobs that escaped suguru's throat, all in exchange for having satoru there with them tonight.

you must notice the sudden shift in his attitude, the way his ass was wriggling in the air almost desperately, because you snickered and your hand pressed him down harder against your lap. fuck, he thinks, feeling himself dripping all over the place at the feeling of you.

"how about this," you offered. "five more spankings, and i want you to count. if you miss one, we'll start over." your hand caressed the swell of his ass, your movements gentle as you soothed the spank marks you had left there earlier.

as much as satoru knew he shouldn't believe you, he still couldn't help the way he sniffled at the feeling and asked, "promise?"

you chuckled, the sound soft. your lips met the skin on his back, right over his spine. "sure, baby," you said. "i promise. just five more, okay? you'll be a good boy, won't you, satoru? you'll stay still for me?"

satoru nodded eagerly, chewing at this lower lip at the sound of your praise. good boy. yes, he could be your good boy. he would always be your good boy.

although he couldn't see it, he knew your smile was there when you said, "good. don't forget to count, okay, baby?" which, really, should have been the first sign of something dangerous looming.

the sound of your hand slapping his skin was promptly followed by a fucking howl that was stripped out of his throat; loud and jagged and surprised and so fucked over that satoru's head throbbed with it.

because jesus motherfucking fuck, you just slapped his cunt.

"count, baby."

satoru could barely even think past the static ringing in his air, stuffing his brain full with cloth, but he thought he might have choked out a whimpering, "one."

your hand moved once again to his cunt, he motion gentler this time. you didn't spank him again but rather, you spread his legs, exposing more of his cunt, and he whimpers in anticipation.

but your fingers only breach the lips of his cunt, spreading his labia apart to look at the slick already dripping the moment his folds were parted. you cooed at him, and satoru felt himself burning with so much fucking feelings that he couldn't even identify a proper source for it.

holy shit.

"four more," you whispered, your thumb dragging along his slit down to his clit. you rubbed it for a moment, causing satoru to whine at the feeling. "just a bit more, okay, baby?"

he didn't know if he nodded, or if he just lay there across your lap—rooted in place and feeling lightheaded, entirely motionless—but you must have found something you wanted to see from him because he could feel you moving again.

anticipating what would come after didn't make it any easier to handle.

your palm met the centre of his cunt perfectly, the tips of your fingers catching his clit, and satoru sobbed. "two," he quickly scrambled to rasp out before you could make him repeat it, before you could make him start all over. "two, that's—" he catches his breath, tongue feeling swollen in his mouth. "that's two."

"good boy."

another slap, making his back arch and his body squirm away from the sensation. the sound was fucking disgusting, even more so now that the slick accumulating on his cunt had created a pillow for your hand to rest on, creating a loud squelching sound that made satoru's toes curl.

"three," satoru whimpered. "it hurts."

"just two more," you reassured him, your fingers grazing over his entrance but never once dipping inside. fuck. "can you do that for me?"

satoru sniffled, but he nodded. "two more," he repeated.

"good boy."

your next slap came in sharp and quick, and he barely managed to blurt out, "four." before he collapses into sobs. his body is slumped, weak and unable to even twitch.

one more, he thought. just one more.

letting out a ragged breath, satoru's voice bleeds into a high keen when he feels you pull back the hood over his clit, exposing the sensitive nerve. the realisation of what you're about to do strikes him a second, too late.

no, you're going to—

your entire fucking palm met his exposed clit, sending up a burning sensation across the length of satoru's spine. "five!" satoru shouted, a little desperate, a lot hurt, equal measures of feeling fucked right out of his mind.

"fuck, that's five. that's—" he couldn't even finish his sentence, already broken off to sobs and whimpers as his entire fucking body trembles at the feeling of it. fuck. every inch of him felt numb; all of the hurt centred on the feeling of your slap on his clit.

the world is a hazy blur of static and cotton and distance for a long moment. when satoru's world comes back into focus, he's still on your lap, but seated now, positioned in a way that saved his cunt from any accidental stimulation. his mouth parted and drool dripping down the corners of your lips, but your hands are on his his back, keeping him close, and you're murmuring sweet nothings to him.

and he must have done something—something right, something wrong—because he feels himself going weightless and then your lips are brushing over the shell of his ear, and you're telling him, "get your rest, satoru. you deserve it."

oh, satoru thought dazedly, feeling the world drift in and out of motion for a long moment. this is why. because for all your cruelty and all your harshness, you were exceptionally gentle in the aftermath. satoru's vision is blurring around the edges, but he feels you all the same—warm and present and there.

"g'night," he thought he might've slurred out.

he might imagine the feeling of your lips on his temple, but he liked to think that it was real all the same.

[pistatsia]

Shidou Ryusei: as free as a bird

Shidou is uncomfortable, imperfect. He's vulgar, he's gross, he's blatantly cruel, and he's incapable of compromise. He's hyper-excitable, constantly ready to fight and even looking forward to that brawl. He switches between moods like a kaleidoscope, and what falls out in that kaleidoscope is unpredictable.

Shidou has absolutely no understanding of morality.

This is especially evident in his encounter with Kunigami.

He has absolutely no understanding of the concept of protecting someone simply for no gain. Trying to protect someone heroically, purely because of an understanding that it's wrong, is ridiculous to Shidou. Shidou has only "his" and "others", and that "his" so far includes only Sae, as shown in the episode where he tries to turn Sendou's face into mush.

Nor does he understand the moralization that it is wrong to hit people. He just doesn't get it, and it's probably ridiculous for him to even think about it, because at the deepest level he has an attitude to respond to any hint of a threat with a fight.

Most likely Shidou grew up in an environment where brute force decided everything. That's why he's so hyperexcitable.

Shidou is in a constant state of tension, waiting for even the slightest hint of a threat, which he is happy to crush immediately. He's constantly ready to strike because he's used to constantly feeling a threat - one that he had to respond to with violence because he wouldn't have survived otherwise. His "fight" response, out of a combination of ancient instincts called "fight-flight-freeze," is always switched to the max.

We all know that the attack is the best form of defense, and Shidou follows this motto with his entire being. "Beat your own so that others will fear you" is about him.

Shidou doesn't mention his family at all in his Blue Lock profile like other players do. Remember how he talks about Santa in the same form - "I can buy something on my own" sounds very childish and unhappy. When you're trying to prove to yourself that you don't need it at all - because if you need it, you won't get it anyway.

Beyond that, even leaving aside his family and theoretical home environment, we know for a fact that Shidou didn't play for any football team before Blue Lock.

He was a loner, and therefore the only space where he could practice was the street.

And street football is insanely, inhumanly violent.

And it makes sense that this similar environment, both at home and in the game, formed the core of Shidou's personality that we see in the manga. The core of personality, which is based on the desire to survive, and not just survive, but to show everyone around him that despite everything he has gnawed out a life for himself with his teeth. A life in which cruelty is the law.

A life where he exists.

Shidou is probably one of the most evident Blue Lock players, for whom football is not only inextricably linked to life - it is life. And Shidou is absolutely explicit about this both in the interview and in the manga.

For Shidou, football and life are one and the same.

The same thing that Aiku says: Shidou is incapable of separating the field and life. They're inseparable in his world in general; they're one and the same.

It is only logical that Shidou transfers the laws of his life to football as well; and ends up playing football the same way he plays life - a football of the "survival" kind. Where it is his biological need (I'm sorry), his only aspiration, the violence that breaks everything in its path. Where the way to "survive the game", just as in life, is to leave your mark, to somehow prove your existence in people's lives, to be remembered by them and imprinted in their memories.

And pay attention to the way Shidou lives: not according to the rules, uncomfortable and bright, believing that it is better to burn to the death than to lie in a corner as a gray shadow, but alive.

There are no rules in Shidou's football; therefore, there are no rules in Shidou's life.

And that's why Shidou despises heroes and "good guys"; because only naive idiots who don't understand real life, the one where your survival is all that matters. That's why he mocks Kunigami's principles so much: because to him, a child for whom his whole life has been one big attempt to gnaw his teeth out to survive, such principles are irrelevant.

Because there are no heroes in Shidou's world, and even if there were, they've long since broken.

And there are no restrictions in Shidou's life either. He lives a violent life, and it makes sense that he lives by the same principles in Blue Lock, not hesitating to threaten Rin with the end of his career or Igaguri with murder.

He's not violent because he takes some special pleasure in bullying Igaguri: he's violent because that's just who he is. He doesn't have a "harming others is not okay" attitude. It's instinct - as seen especially in his episodes of fighting with Rin. He doesn't care at all about causing him long-term harm or ruining his career - on the contrary, he enjoys it in the moment.

And this is especially evident in his relationship with Isagi; while Shidou had nearly smashed his head in the day before, on the field he already openly admires him and is quite friendly. Shidou doesn't give violence any particular importance - you don't give any importance to brushing your teeth or throwing out the rubbish in the morning, do you?

For Shidou, it's just insignificant, because violence is the organic basis of his life, its law and right.

Today he's trying to kill Isagi, and tomorrow it's Isagi-chan.

Because Shidou has no social competence - he had no parents to bring him into society and set some morals.

And his desires are pretty simple and even primitive. When he learns of his potential salary, his first thought is how much he can eat on it. All he basically wants, almost to the point of obsession, is to induce vivid emotions, explosion, adrenaline - something Shidou is addicted to, living in constant danger and something that allows him to feel alive and existent.

You know who that sounds like? Denji. A main character from Shidou's most favourite manga.

They both had no guides to society. They're both unfortunate kids who were deprived of absolutely everything when they were young. Who are so vulgar and repulsive not because there's anything wrong with them and they act so deliberately and meanly - but because they just don't know any other life. They just don't understand what it's like to live differently. They both live on base instincts.

And they both try to greedily claim as much as they can from the life around them - the food, the people, the sensations.

Because they had nothing before.

Back to Shidou and his football.

The most amazing thing about Shidou is the way he treats his opponents (omitting attempts to injure them). Shidou, even when losing, finds time to admire them - to admire those who took the ball away from him or stole a goal. He's really just having a good time - while for Rin, football is something to be taken completely seriously, for Karasu it's a need to pre-analyse opponents, and for Snuffy it's work, Shidou is just having fun.

And at the same time, what, along with "watch as world reaches its end" and "at the end of the day, when I became nothing, tears came out" demonstrates the duality of his nature is his attitude to losing.

He and Kaiser actually have too many parallels, but this is one of the most obvious - even though they treat the issue differently, they act in the same way.

They're both prepared to admit when they're losing - and they're both willing to break themselves for the sake of the goal. They both know how and when to tame jealousy and the losing parts of their being.

Because they don't believe in winning (explosion) any other way.

Shidou knows when to back down. Because he learnt this too from his childhood - that if the opponent is stronger than you and you keep carelessly breaking forward, sooner or later it will destroy you. The only way to win is to recognise his superiority and fracture yourself, forming a new self - one that can defeat him (as seen in Shidou's willingness to stop fighting so that Ego would let him out, and Kaiser's with his story with Noa).

The ability to appreciate and recognise the strength of your opponent is a basic principle of survival.

But at the same time (just like Kaiser), Shidou doesn't believe that there are invincible opponents. You just have to know the way to break them.

Or rather, not know: feel. Which is what happens at the U-20 game when Shidou enters the flow.

Logically, with all of the above, Shidou is a complete individualist, and is unable to comply with Rin even for the sake of a goal - because Shidou knows he can beat him. The point at which his PXG game has evolved - with two formations, one centered on Shidou and the other on Rin - is the clearest evidence of this.

Shidou knows when to back off - but Shidou isn't going to back off until circumstances force him to.

And in the end, this approach of Shidou ended up being too egoistic for Blue Lock, which is insanely ironic. What's also funny is that along with it, it's his attitude towards football that epitomises Ego's ideal - a player who puts everything he has into it because it's his way of surviving.

And so we come to that one scene of punishment. And it's this, along with Shidou's monologue from the U-20 game, that reveals him the most.

Because in the first few frames Shidou looks frankly miserable. Of course, anyone would look that way in his position. But suddenly Shidou starts talking calmly, offering a compromise - and then in the same second he snaps.

He explodes, cursing Ego - though as his words show he understands the reason for the punishment - he's even willing to compromise. It's illogical to curse the one on whom his salvation depends, isn't it?

Shidou acts this way because he's afraid.

Because in this moment - bound, locked up, and alone - he is defenseless.

He's like a caged animal that can't think logically - he's terrified, he's scared, he can only throw himself helplessly around the cage, grinning his teeth wantonly. This is the first time we see him so seriously angry (he still did get some fun, adrenaline rush during the fight with Rin).

The worst thing for Shidou, free as a bird or a tiger and most of all wanting that very freedom (more about that later) is vulnerability and limitation. Powerlessness. For the sake of overcoming this, he is ready to give up violence and his principles of life, as long as he is released and pulled out of this hell of helplessness.

And this fear is actually incredibly characteristic of his personality too.

But in order to understand why, of all the possible punishments of the world, it is the restriction that drives him to panic, let's remember what football means to him and his style of play in it.

Shidou has sharp and monstrous, even beastly reflexes and instincts. They are honed to the max. He is very strong physically, fast, agile, flexible, perfectly sensing the space around him. Optimal in his movements. Unpredictable. His illogical patterns are impossible to read.

Shidou is all of one naked reflex and instinct, free in his absolute savagery. He is a completely separate character outside of the Ego's system. He literally speaks a different language.

And Sae happens to be the only one who understands that language.

And up until their moments together, this is most vividly shown when Sae stops Shidou from beating up another player - and not just stops him, but understands what needs to be said.

Which again proves that in the violent chaos of Shidou's life he does have a certain logic. A constantly shifting, flexible one, but one...

Which, again, Sae alone understands.

And it is through playing with Sae that the whole point of why football is so important to Shidou is revealed. Why he plays it so instinctively, despising the rule, the tactics, and his teammates. Why is he suddenly willing to "break himself" for Sae, adjusting his rules of life to fit him, yesterday's stranger - because Sae accepts both him and his football, and doesn't try to limit or remake him. And that's exactly why Shidou is willing to be changed to match him.

Because Shidou's football, the life he wants to achieve, is all about freedom.

And that's not enough for him. It's not enough for Shidou just to play, just to live. It can't be enough for a man who is used to living on adrenaline and fighting for his existence every day.

Life for Shidou is about freedom, just as football is his escape and a place where he can exist.

Shidou stands out, doesn't follow the rules, exists so vividly and with every action clearly and distinctly proving his presence...

To live.

Both football and Shidou's life are about escaping, about breaking out of his limits. To see the world as himself - free and alive.

Football makes Shidou feel whole, feel alive. Football is what glues him together. It's the only way he can prove what he is - by achieving something. By making himself colorful, visible, uncomfortable - in a way that he can't be turned away from.

One that will allow him to leave a trace of his existence in the world. One that will prove to him that he is.

For Shidou, all these metaphorical (or not) explosions are actually a way of proving that he exists.

Even his fights and quarrels actually serve his purpose - and Shidou himself confirms this in his monologue. All of this is to be vivid, to imprint, to exist.

To be someone who cannot be forgotten or turned away from.

Who cannot be overlooked.

Who exists as obviously as he can.

Even his favorite subjects at school - Art and Physical Education (the latter obviously about football) - are related. Because it's possible to leave your mark on the world with art, too - and it makes sense that Shidou admires it so much. Because art is, after all, the most colorful thing a living person can leave behind.

And for Shidou, art is football.

For him, to exist is to be free. And to burn so brightly that it blinds his own eyes - otherwise both life and football become bland, boring and insignificant to him. Just like his evenings - remember "When is the last time you cried?" from The Egoist Bible? And remember Shidou's response?

"At the end of the day, when I became nothing, tears came out."

Because in the evening, emotions and people disappear and you're left to yourself. Empty, aimless and in a way pathetic - because you're no longer on fire. Because you lose all the things that made you feel during the day.

Shidou depends on vivid emotions - because, due to his difficult youth, they are the only things that allow him to feel that he is alive.

That he's free.

Shidou's favorite song is also about freedom and trying to break free from the constraints of his life.

There is nothing in the world Shidou longs for more than freedom.

And the spider in Shidou's favorite song is limited and weak.

A spider without wings is incapable of flying. The spider without wings is trapped in unfreedom, looking at the blue and vast sky above his head every day - one that he cannot reach.

A spider without wings is incapable of flying - and those wings Shidou himself, like the spider in the song, could not get, no matter how hard he tried.

But Sae gave Shidou those wings. Sae gave Shidou the ability to play to his full potential, the way he craved with his entire being. Sae took him out from Blue Lock. Sae acknowledged him. Sae gave him a chance to make his mark on the world and gave him purpose, he showed him that there was someone who understood him and his aspirations on this base, animal level.

Sae gave Shidou freedom.

And Shidou learnt to fly.

[cypher-writer]

Yandere Emperor ✷

Male!Emperor x GN!Emperor!reader

Reader/Y/N refered to as They/Them but also as Emperor

Warnings: not very detailed gore, swearing, blackmail, manipulation, depictions of self harm (hair tugging from reader), yandere themes

Y/N is "insane/crazy"/mentally ill (Y/N is not in the right headspace throughout this entire story. They have multiple violent thoughts and outbursts and similar symptoms that could warrant in mental illnesses such as IED, BPD, PTSD or ASPD ((I am not a mental health professional)). If you have thoughts such as these depicted in the story try to reach out and talk to someone about your experiences and search for help! This story is not a diagnosis or confirmation that you have these mental illnesses either as these symptoms can be common in 'normal' life as well. Consult a professional for genuine concerns.)

Word count: 3.3k

There are books written of the unbelievable and inspiring rise of the L/N empire.

The way it was starting to diminish after it fell in the hands of your fathers rule and how every other land was already eyeing up the land you've harbored after many centuries of growing.

You remember sitting on a chair in the ballroom as your father swindled other women right in front of your eyes, partying as if everything's alright while you watched and could only count the days till some foreign kingdom wagered war and took over everything you held dear. The days were nigh, you knew it. But back then all you could do is sip tea and keep face.

Your poor mother had it the worst, gosh, you love her so. She was the best mother you could ask for and more. She spent her entire life caring and doting on you, raising you to be your very best self. You learnt from her and looked up to her. Something you wouldn't ever even think of doing to your father.

It was even worse knowing that that excuse of a blood relative would woo other women even if your mother was in the vicinity. You hated him. You hated him so much there isn't a word that could describe how much you truly loathed him, how much you wanted to strangle him every night for putting anyone in such pain.

In his eyes, it was fine, he was emperor after all, no?

That title he took for granted so easily was ripped away from him just the same. The same way his heart was ripped out and left beside his empty beer jug in a bloody mess that one night after he got too drunk to stumble back into his bedroom, landing in the gardens and perishing somewhere in the dusk. Truly devastating how the murderer was never caught.

The title would have then fallen momentarily onto your mother, but she took a bit of a mental hit from her husbands death (even if he was cruel) and just couldn't rule while grieving at the same time. There was an uproar of doubts from the townsfolk as they panicked of who would take care of their land next? You wondered the same, till everyone's eyes landed on you.

You, back then a teenager who did not plan to take over so early, but didn't mind in the end anyways.

You took the reigns as fast as possible and finally fixed what your father was too 'busy' to care about mending, upgrading the army, listening to the people's pleas and of course, continuing to progress in the growth of your empire, spreading further and further.

In no time you were known as a crazy tyrant, taking risks that have never been even thought of that before. Although, that wasn't the crazy part of 'crazy tyrant', no, the crazy part was that it all actually worked. Every chance was in your favor, somehow. You didn't know why either, but to be fair you did not care. If good luck was on your side you did not wish to bother it with endless questions.

The tyrant part was mostly a fancy noun to add onto the crazy. You weren't a cruel leader to your people, you cared for each one and took real responsibility in everything you had to he involved in, but you sure as hell were cruel in war. You didn't hold back, you didn't second guess. You took your sword and used the mastery of your hand to gain back the land that should have been yours already.

Emperor L/N, that was you. It was your title. It was your Empire, the biggest in the Fucking world.

And it might have gotten into your head a bit. Not as much as your father, but enough to make you crave the taste of another battle, the sound of swords clashing and the smell of blood. It made you giggle with only an itsy bitsy bit of insanity, nothing too dire, nothing your mother couldn't scold you back into a clear mind for.

Truly, it didn't matter how crazy you were on the battle field or what edgy names the people outside gave you, what mattered was that you were successful and could handle your temper just enough. And you could.

...

Till that bastard came into picture. Little Emperor Kingsley. The Nepo baby of the millennia. He was the golden child in everyone's eyes, the angel of our poor, unpure world. He had everyone around his finger, it was fucking ridiculous, really.

He grew up being perfect, so much so that his people thought he was some sort of Christ. He was worshiped. He was loved. And when he reached of minimum age, he was crowned emperor. Why? Because the people— and not just the townsfolk or anyone like that, multiple, whole empires— believed he would grace everyone with his touch and make the entirety of this shity world virtuous and moral again.

But when that letter came to your throne, that elegant writing stating:

"Dear L/N,

It is with the upmost kindness and hope that we ask you to join the newly forming union of 'aureum annum' —the golden year— to aid us in-"

You didn't read the rest as you ripped the letter up and told one of your servants to throw the shredded pieces into any furnace or campfire. You had your experiences with people who think too highly of themselves. And you don't want to meddle yourself in those affairs again. So, with your own better judgement you decided to just never respond. They should get the hint.

And it seemed for a little that they did... Till Kingsley informed that he wishes to visit and talk to you about Aureum annum. You scoffed, rolled your eyes, groaned and sighed as you held back to tearing this note up as well. Your mother strongly advised you to at least talk to them, what's the worst that could happen?

So much.

With annoyance and another eye roll, you replied with a sugarcoated reply:

'Dear Emperor Kingsley,

Why yes! Come in! Why don't you come here and let me tell you in person how much I want to shove that shit eating good for nothing perfection of yours up your a-'

yeah, in conclusion you were not happy and your mother wrote the letter instead.

You counted the days until the foreboding meeting, exhaling in irritation when you realize that, unfortunately, time will not freeze and delay the eventual rendezvous. The only thing you could do is slump slightly as you kept your mind distracted by training with your trusted and iconic sword.

You really don't have a good feeling about this. You really don't.

"Today's the day." Your mother's soft words broke the silence, her hands trailing over any creased surface of your fine clothing, smoothing them out and making sure they're up to making the best impression they could. You couldn't help but chuckle at your mother's worry, trying to hide it under her facade of cleanliness.

"Mother, something tells me you're more worried about this meeting than I am." You looked down at her, trying to comfort her with a gentle smile. She retracted her hands and clasped them before her chest, sighing as her gaze lifted to yours. "I only wish this meeting goes well and doesn't end in violence, Y/N."

Your mother has strict opinions on warfare and things alike that not even god could change: unnecessary and disposable. You respected them, but couldn't help the thrill victory gave you.

You placed a hand on her shoulder, trying to ease her thoughts. "I promise to be on my best behavior, I don't want this to end in anything bad either." You did your best to reassure her that you'd play nice, pretend to be kind and not what everyone assumes you are. Are you?

She reciprocated with the same feather-light smile as her hand traveled to the side of your face, eyes proud yet almost sad. They were like that since your fathers death, you can't blame her. You never can, you never would. You just wanted to make her happy and to take her out of the constant mild pain she's in; never too big to care, but not too small to ever ignore.

"You best go now, dear." She spoke, turning away. "It's best to be there early to greet the guest."

You watched her leave and huffed. You truly don't know how this will go. You don't know much about Kingsley even if there's countless praise on him in multiple books and stories. Because that's all it is, praise. Praise isn't the truth, even if it holds some real significance. When people describe you, they'd say you were a victorious monarch with a skilled swing, but you're also crazy and cruel in battle. Your flaws spilled like ink over every page. Kingsley, there was not a single bad word you could find in the thousands of words he was talked about in. He's not human if there's nothing bad about it. Do they really want you to believe he's never had a single bad thought in his life? Not a single flaw? Inhuman, that's what he is.

Walking down the halls of your huge castle gave you time to think over how you'll act. Should you shake his hand? Should you bow? Should you just glare? A frustrated humm left your throat as you made a turn to head towards the grand entrance of the palace. Should you put up an act or just be casual? He's definitely heard of you so it'd be much more suspicious if you were suddenly this sinless soul. Might as well just blend you personality with whatever his was. A balance of good and… yourself.

You suddenly realised you were at the main gates, standing next to the guards and servants that have come early as well, making sure to impress Emperor Kingsley with their service and punctuality.

"Are you ready, my Majesty?" Your personal servant stepped to your side, one arm bent behind his back as the other was fixed in front, a white napkin draped over it. You scorned and nodded. "As ready as I can be for mr. Perfect, I guess." Your butler only replied with a smile before resuming looking forwards, his back straightened. You mimicked his posture after realising that you were slumped over.

"They're arriving!" You heard a distant shout, presumably one of the guards that inspect the people entering your empire. You inhaled deeply, keeping the breath in as you saw the grand carriage move towards you and the group of people surrounding you. An unexplainable anger surged through you for no reason before disappearing as the barouche halted. The driver who once reigned the horses stepped off, chin high as he maneuvered to open the little door facing you. You stared as it was opened and a cloaked figure step close. You were quick to come close and offer a hand of help which the person accepted with a smile, making an exit out of the carriage with your assist.

"Emperor Kingsley." You greeted, bowing slightly, guessing that it's the most appropriate action in the moment, also making sure that your tone was sweet.

"Emperor L/N." Kingsley returned, bowing the same way. You noted his elegant clothing; gold and white tones complementing each other with its intricate embroidery, details that one would appreciate. You bet each stitch was sewn in with precision you could not care for, it was futile if it was gonna get ripped out in battle. But Kingsley did not engage in battle. You did wonder why he was cloaked, you could barely make out his face, only the lower part of it. Makeup was delicately painted on his face from what you could see, his lips having a slight golden shimmer to them and his cheeks having some sort of design on them. From the sides, blonde hair poked out, silky and smooth. You can see why people called him an angel, but was he really one or was it just an act?

Moments later, you found yourself leading Kingsley towards a room specifically prepared for you to talk about whatever he was here for. Pulling a cushioned and royal looking chair for him to sit on before going to the other side of the rectangular, short table to sit yourself.

"Well then,-" You spoke first, wanting to seem engaged even though you wanted him to leave as quickly as possible. What if he was here with mal intent? What if he wanted to murder you, or worse your mother? "-I suspect you have matters which you wish to discuss with me."

Kingsley nodded, finally taking off the hood. Grey eyes peered into yours, almost looking right through you. "Yes, Indeed I do."

His voice was soft like butter, smooth and calm. "I wish to talk about aureum annum. Specifically the event of your rejection to join."

Ah, you guessed this was about that. You couldn't avoid it any longer. But in all fairness, you thought they didn't have the courage to come up to you, especially not when you have the all too known title of 'Crazy Tyrant'.

"Oh, yes. Well, I am sure you have great and ingenious plans for the union but I prefer to rule over my empire without the need to talk to others and see how it affects them." You explained with the most docile voice you could snatch out of yourself, you shouldn't need to explain why you don't want to join. You just don't want to, end of story. "And I have already so much to worry and pay attention to that I fear having more responsibility might break me." You joked, earning a small chuckle from the man opposite of you.

"That is understandable." He hummed, nodding. "I should have guessed that a ruler like you would already have a lot on your shoulders. Heavy is the head that wears the crown, hm?"

You smiled, confirming this kind-heartedly.

"Though it'd be a shame if somebody found out about the true cause of your fathers death.."

What did he just say? are you mishearing?

"…What?"

He smiled. It wasn't kind or angelic, it was sinister, knowing, threatening.

"I know what really went down that day of your fathers unfortunate death, perhaps I should jog the memory, hm?"

You felt your heart drop to your stomach, dread overtaking you. But along the dread, anger started boiling inside your chest, burning at your heart. He couldn't know. How could he?

"You hated him didn't you? You absolutely loathed him. You couldn't handle the way he was neglecting his kingdom and going of drinking with other ladies." You couldn't hold back the scowl that etched onto your face as you listened to every honeyed word he would say, gripping the dagger you've attached under the table for emergencies.

"So, that one day, you decided that it was over with him. You lured his intoxicated self to the gardens and carved his heart out, ruining the inside of his body with that sharp sword you can't seem to let go these days, leaving him gargling and pleading for mercy. Of course, you were too far gone to hear them, weren't you."

You stood suddenly, fists slamming on the table, violence flooding your mind that you somehow held back by not strangling the last breath out of him and hanging his head above your fireplace. "Shut up! Shut-"

"You were scared afterwards. At least you convinced yourself to be, you didn't feel guilt or sadness, pain or remorse. No, you forced yourself to feel the ghost of them because your mother took the blow of the emotional damage." He continued to speak. His once butter smooth voice turned to that alike of a fork scratching a plate, or a grater trying to shred metal. Your hands went to your hair, tugging at the ends harshly, you grunted at the pain that failed to ground you.

"Y-you bastard! You sick fuck!" You shouted, closing your eyes for just a moment, only opening them when another pair of hands enveloped yours and forced them out of your locks. You looked up to see Kingsley, glaring down at you. "Stop that." He said sternly.

You grunted angrily as you shoved him away from you, breath uncontrollable and out of rhythm, eyes glazed over and threatening to fall. "Get away from me! What makes you think that just because you're some worshipped little cunt you can walk in here and say that stuff to me!" You shouted at him, pointing a finger at him. "I'll have you fucking murdered! I'll let your parents watch as I behead-"

"You think that'll work out for you in the end?" His voice returned to that irritatingly calm sound. "The kingdoms that have joined my union will cause an uproar and potentially wager war on you… Think about your mother, how would she react?"

She'd be devastated. She would cry and beg for you to resolve this like adult humans and not animals, she can't go through such an even again, knowing you might not come back that one time after riding off on your horse into battle. One day that sword will have your blood on it. And she would snap, break and then in the end whittle away into a shell of what she once was. That's how she would react.

"What do you want from me." You demand, hands falling to your sides and your shoulders tensing up as you made direct eye contact with Kingsley. He smiled, hands joining behind his back.

"All I want is for you to join the aureum annum…" He replied, an innocent grin on his face. "And I want to take your hand in marriage, Y/N."

Was he being serious? You could understand the aureum annum thing but marriage? Why does he want to marry you? To control you, to diminish whatever power you have and use it all for himself? No way, not again.

"You're joking." You scoffed, truly not believing his words.

"I'm not." His voice dropped and the genuinity of it frightened you, making your hands tremble in anger. "well then, dream on. You're more insane than me if you think I'd ever agree to your idiotic terms."

"Then I guess you also don't care if the news of how your father was murdered spread, right? I mean, I'm sure that you don't actually care what others think but what about dear mother?"

There he is using the 'think about your mother' card again. You hated how it worked. You hated how you know she wouldn't look at you the same. Would she loathe you the same way you loathed your father? would she refuse to acknowledge that you're her child?

Kingsley was no angel, he was no god. He was a wolf in sheep's clothing; a demon with clip-on angel wings that he so kindly decided to take off in front of you. He was your demon.

You glared at him, thinking of a loophole or a way to wriggle out of this situation but none came to mind, especially not when it was clouded with fear and rage. You were huffing and puffing, breath too heavy to ease.

"OH fine! But utter a word about this to anyone and I swear I'll call god herself to help me slay you!" You took hold of his collar, pulling you towards him. He was as nonchalant and as calm as ever. You wanted to murder him so bad right now, but the terrified face of your mother kept invading your mind.

"As you wish, my dear.."

This might get a part 2 if anyone asks for one, but for now this is just this :) If I made any mistakes in the story pls tell me because I am not a native english speaker! I also accept asks and requests so don't be afraid to ask anything :P have a great morning/day/afternoon/night <3

-Writer/Cypher

[hollowed-theory-hall]

Lily Potter is not Mediocre

I wrote this initially as a response to a reblog on this post, but I wanted to give Lily a post of her own that isn't tied in with my rambling about shipping Voldemort. So here it is:

We don't know a lot about Lily, but what we do know implies she is very magically talented and has a bit of a cruel streak to her. She isn't as perfect as some portray her, nor as awful as I've seen some claim her to be. but oh boy do I disagree about her being mediocre.

Let's talk about the magical power first, becouse I feel a lot of people underestimate Lily's magical talent.

“Excellent, excellent, Harry! Good lord, it’s clear you’ve inherited your mother’s talent. She was a dab hand at Potions, Lily was! Here you are, then, here you are — one bottle of Felix Felicis, as promised, and use it well!”

(HBP)

I know some people like to claim Lily was only good at potions because of Snape, but I don't think that's the case. I'm sure he helped her out at first, but they stopped being friends at 5th year and she continued to seemingly have good grades at Potions since Slughorn really loves her.

As a child, Lily has incredible control over her accidental magic and accomplishes difficult magic naturally and intuitively:

But the girl had let go of the swing at the very height of its arc and flown into the air, quite literally flown, launched herself skyward with a great shout of laughter, and instead of crumpling on the playground asphalt, she soared like a trapeze artist through the air, staying up far too long, landing far too lightly.

(DH)

Lily had picked up a fallen flower from the bush behind which Snape lurked. Petunia advanced, evidently torn between curiosity and disapproval. Lily waited until Petunia was near enough to have a clear view, then held out her palm. The flower sat there, opening and closing its petals, like some bizarre, many-lipped oyster.

(DH)

This is way more advanced than magic usually shown by kids, especially because of how controlled it is. The only other character we see on level with Lily's control at such a young age (and who mastered unaided flight on their own) is Voldemort.

Harry also shows insanely powerful accidental magic (including Apparation) and let's just say, I don't think Harry's magical talent came from James.

Lily was both Prefect and head girl (like Tom) again showing she had a great academic track record and was likely a top student in many of her classes. We know she was good at Potions, but she was likely very adapt at Charms as well:

You have your mother’s eyes. It seems only yesterday she was in here herself, buying her first wand. Ten and a quarter inches long, swishy, made of willow. Nice wand for charm work

(PS)

Now, I talked in the past on here about how Harry is insanely magically powerful, specifically when it came to intuitive magic that just reacted to his emotions/desires or him being able to feel magic (this is that post). If we take Dumbledore at his word on how Lily cast her sacrificial love on Harry (which I tend to do) her sacrificial magic was insanely intuitive magic like we see Harry repeatedly do throughout the books.

I think the reason no one else ever did is because of the specific circumstances and Lily's specific words, yes, but I also think, that like her son, she had a knack for her magic responding intuitively to her desires no spell needed. This is a mark of a very powerful wizard/witch and not something a mediocre wizard would be likely to accomplish.

We see Harry cast this same sacrificial love in DH. And he, too, doesn't really cast anything, it's intuitive, his magic is powerful and incredibly reactive to his emotions — and I believe Lily was the same.

JKR has mentioned Voldemort tried to convince James and Lily to become Death Eaters, more than once ("Thrice defied him"). He wouldn't have given them more than one chance if either of them was mediocre. I also don't think he would've tried to get Lily to step aside so he wouldn't have to kill her as many times as he did if he thought she was average at best.

As for her personality, you're right, she isn't exactly Harry, but they do share some very important traits, and as I said, I think she and Tom would clash less than Harry and Tom (as in Lily doesn't get angry the way Harry does, so their reactions would be different).

Lily acted charming and prideful:

She turned, nose in the air, and marched off towards her sister.

(DH)

“Hmpf. Yes, well. You shouldn’t have favorites as a teacher, of course, but she was one of mine. Your mother,” Slughorn added, in answer to Harry’s questioning look. “Lily Evans. One of the brightest I ever taught. Vivacious, you know. Charming girl.I used to tell her she ought to have been in my House. Very cheeky answers I used to get back too.”

(HBP)

Slughorn talks about Lily's personality more than any other character, and what he says does paint her as similar to Harry.

She was talented and bright. Slughorn, who thought Tom Riddle, considers Lily Potter one of the brightest students he ever thought. She was in no way mediocre.

She was charming and had a firey personality to her. She was enthusiastic and charismatic and was easily likable.

I especially like what Slughorn says about Lily being good for Slytherin. Like Harry, she was likely considered by the hat for both Slytherin and Gryffindor due to her cleverness and bravery being both part of her.

And these cheeky answers Slghorn refers to, are like Harry's. Harry is the cheeky student Slughorn is referring to in the same breath as Lily's. Harry got his sass from Lily, not from James. Harry's tendency to back-talk Dark Lords came from his mom.

She's more scared when she's younger, crying more, but she clearly grows up to be fiercer, as Slughorn mentions and as we see in some of the memories:

“Saved? Saved? You think he was playing the hero? He was saving his neck and his friends’ too! You’re not going to — I won’t let you — ” “Letme? Letme?” Lily’s bright green eyes were slits. Snape backtracked at once.

(DH)

As for the cruel streak I mentioned:

Lily, whose furious expression had twitched for an instant as though she was going to smile, said, “Let him down!”

(OotP)

Lily, even as Snape's best friend, can't help but find the bullying funny for just a moment. It means her sense of humor can be on the crueler side at times. The fact that it's implied, even during SWM that Lily didn't really hate James, just disliked his behavior is quite telling. Like, I don't think he needed to change much for her to go out with him. Sirius even says he mostly just stopped hexing people in the halls. I think he wasn't as arrogant, but he was probably still very egocentric. And Lily liked that (contrary to Harry who'd find it more annoying).

Additionally, when Lily wants to, she knows to hit where it hurts (the Slytherin streak Slughorn talks about?):

“That’s where you’re going,” said Petunia with relish. “A special school for freaks. You and that Snape boy ... weirdos, that’s what you two are. It’s good you’re being separated from normal people. It’s for our safety.” Lily glanced toward her parents, who were looking around the platform with an air of wholehearted enjoyment, drinking in the scene. Then she looked back at her sister, and her voice was low and fierce.“You didn’t think it was such a freak’s school when you wrote to the headmaster and begged him to take you.” Petunia turned scarlet.

(DH)

She knows Petunia and she knows what would hurt/embarrass her the most and she goes for the throat. Even if later she tries to smooth things over with her.

I also wanted to note her wand. Ollivanders said she had a Willow wand, and willow wands have some interesting facts about them:

Willow is an uncommon wand wood with healing power, and I have noted that the ideal owner for a willow wand often has some (usually unwarranted) insecurity, however well they may try and hide it. While many confident customers insist on trying a willow wand (attracted by their handsome appearance and well-founded reputation for enabling advanced, non-verbal magic) my willow wands have consistently selected those of greatest potential, rather than those who feel they have little to learn. It has always been a proverb in my family that he who has furthest to travel will go fastest with willow.

(From Pottermore)

(Ron has a Willow wand too, btw, like the second wand he gets that is really his)

This implies Lily was insecure, and you kinda see it in her behavior as a child. Her deference to Petunia and how many questions she asks Snape:

“Normally,” said Snape. “But you’re Muggle-born, so someone from the school will have to come and explain to your parents.” “Does it make a difference, being Muggle-born?”

(DH)

She is scared, walking up to the sorting hat:

He watched his mother walk forward on trembling legs and sit down upon the rickety stool. Professor McGonagall dropped the Sorting Hat onto her head, and barely a second after it had touched the dark red hair, the hat cried, “ Gryffindor”

(DH)

But the hat placed her in Gryffindor becouse of the bravery was there. The insecurity isn't warranted (according to the wand's description). She had the fire and fierceness there all along. she may thought herself average but it was never true.

The description of the wand also suggests Lily would've been quite good with advanced non-verbal magic, which fits everything I mentioned about her magic being very intuitive like Harry's in the first section here.

So Lily is in no way mediocre and Harry is his mother's son.

[mouthwashing-biggest-fan]

Jimmy from mouthwashing

Jimmy is so obviously deeply in love with Curly It’s insane. It’s a sick and twisted love that is extremely one sided. Jimmy is shown throughout the entirety of the game having a deep interest and concern for Curly, starting with resentment and then leading him to keep him alive in the end. He was always fascinated with Curly, whether it was hating him for his position, his ability to be “responsible”, or his inability to die. He loved Curly, in all the wrong ways. I don’t think Jimmy knew how to love correctly, seeing from his actions to Ayna, he is cruel and hurtful to those he is supposed to show care to. I think people deny Jimmy’s feelings for Curly that show up throughout the game due to the fact that its (very obviously) a unhealthy, one-sided, fucked up relationship. I understand that, as I don’t support Jimmy’s fucked up actions and view on love at all, however, it doesn't change the fact that, that is how he feels or show he feels. I don’t view this as a “ship”, because from what I heard a ship is two (or more) characters you believe should be together, and that's not what I mean by this at all. I view these two as “toxic yaoi” as their relationship is highly, well, toxic, its sick, fucked up, and completely one-sided. Jimmy loves Curly, that's why he’s the only one he ever talks about, the only one to give him his meds (as Ayna wouldn't), and the one to “save” him (really just keep him alive). He showed the only ounce of remorse and regret towards Curly, he only felt SOMETHING for him. Anyway, I hope you enjoyed my rant about Jimmy from Mouthwashing, he's my favorite character and I hate him to death.

[seeingivy]

chat not to get emotional but this blog has literally changed my life

TW: mentions of SA/manipulation so read at your own discretion!!!

so random, but i've been making a lot of emotionally charged posts on the dash lately - about how sad i am and how i'm going through one of the hardest periods of my life as of late. i'm so grateful to all of my sweet moots who have reched out to check up on me, you are the sweetest and give me lots of strength 💌

i've been writing fanfiction for over a year now and it was something that sparked into me around a year ago out of nowhere. i went through periods of reading fanfiction when i was a kid and most notably read aot/jjk fanfiction in 2020 during quarantine. for some spur of a reason, in april of 2023 i decided to make a tumblr account and post the very first taylor as gojo one shot which was speak now! the blog very quickly became such a powerful outlet for me to have a voice, when i had been feeling voiceless for such a long time.

i went from writing silly little stories i could think about from getting so serious and earnest with feelings and lessons that i've learned in this little life of mine -- with method acting and bsfs older brother sukuna taking the crown of me putting every hurt part of myself out there for people to read and relate to. the feedback and responses that i received on those fics were so validating and healing for me to read, from having experienced those things myself to knowing that what i made out of that was not only worthwhile for me, but for someone else.

long story short, i've had a few things happen in the course of the past month that reminded me of the guy who sexually assaulted me when I was eighteen. I was dating him at the time and he took advantage of many things, most of the "the lore" chapter of bsfs older brother sukuna just being full truth and zero fiction. as insane as writing it all out there was -- quite literally writing myself my own comfort -- it empowered me to do what i haven't been able to do in three years. today i finally took that step and was brave enough to call him and tell him what exactly he was that it did to me.

and it was so liberating. i've held onto this pain for three years, let it become such a deep part of me, while deep down knowing that my life wasn't meant to be a punishment like eren said in method acting and that at the end of the day, it was just cruel. plain and simple. like sukuna says in bsfs older brother sukuna.

i've been able to let go such a big part of my pain because of this blog,- because people have supported what i write and made me feel brave about embracing what happened to me.

all and all, i'm on the come up. but in the meantime, thank you for everything you've done. this blog and anyone who has read, interacted, or followed will always be so so special to me. <3

[bitter-me]

Alice in Wonderland

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"Once upon a time...."

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The first Alice walked through the land of Teyvat. Bravely with a sword in her hand, she sliced everything and anything that dared crossed her, leaving chaos in her red bloody path. She was feared and respected by all.

The people will remember her wrath, her cruel smile, her self-centered attitude, and most importantly the sword on her hand.

Who could ever forget someone like that? Someone who sparks fear on others? The very mention of her name brought the high and mighty shaking on their knees. Everyone would always try their absolute best to stay on her good side or else... her sword would be the last thing you'll see. They would praise her, give her offerings and gifts, the lengths of what they would do to stay on her good side...

Through her might and unyielding wrath, she traveled far through her journey. But soon... her wrong doings came right back at her..

She stray too far and lost her way. Giving in to all her sins. Much like the gruesome path that she forged with her hands. Still....

Her life remains a mystery till this very day.

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The second Alice was a tame and tender gentleman.

He helped those in need, he never lost his temper, he never talked bad about others, he's incredibly patient; a kind soul.

Such an enormous contrast with the first Alice.

The people would remember his kindness, his merciful acts, his pacifist route. In return for his deeds they would give him something in return despite how the man seemed uncertain of the gifts, claiming that "there's no need for such things."

What a kind soul... he can't even take a gift without feeling conflicted and guilty...

But of course.... you can't be kind to all.... sometimes kindness and mercy isn't the option...

Madness took ahold of him, shoot him dead to the ground. Blood stained the roses to a bright and somber red. Once loved and enjoyed by all, the man was left for dead

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The third Alice was a lovely girl.

Beautiful, the girl was born into a life so grand. She charmed all the people to her beck and call. How could they resist such a charming young lady? Her smile is as bright as the sun, and her beauty rivals those of a goddess.

Through her charms she created a kingdom, an empire that would rise above them all! This Alice was then crowned turned into a Queen. Ruling all the people there... she lost herself in a crazy dream..

Previously a carefree girl, suddenly has the weight of a whole kingdom on her shoulders.. she must have gone insane by the sudden shift in power and responsibilities. Suddenly she's been made all aware of the things that didn't crossed her mind since the beginning. So afraid of death, the girl was mindless and warped.

The people would remember her beauty and charm.

Once a gorgeous ruler, now she's just an ugly corpse.

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"So... what do you think?"

"...."

"What's with the silence, Alice?"

The man studied the other's expression before letting out a chuckle as he understood what he's thinking at that very moment. It was rather obvious. "Maybe I should start the next one~?"

"The fourth Alice was a pair of siblings who are twins. Straying into Teyvat—" "Shut up."

The man stopped as he glanced back at the man who stopped him with his story. "Oh? You don't want your story to be told? Your name echoes in their tales and songs?"

"You're telling a story of the past... this is not the past.. I—we—"

"Oh ho ho! Don't get ahead of yourself there, Alice~ You've fallen into this wonderland called Teyvat for how long now? 500 years? And now you're saying that? Don't make me laugh!"

"You two are staying here."

"Until we the Heavenly Principle say so."

"Until I say so."

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M. Reader as the Creator

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"Now... how will your story end, Alice~?"

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[nomoreusername]

Blind Jealousy (Part 2)

Pairing:Newt x female reader

Summary:Later that day, you find out that Greenie will never be around to bother you again.

I woke up to find myself still in Newt’s arms. He had his arms wrapped around me as I was cuddled into his neck.

My head hurt. The outburst and confession from last night took a huge toll on me. Even though I had been desperate to get it off of my chest, it didn't feel the way I expected. I was just sort of numb. While some of the weight seemed to be off my shoulders and the self blame had pretty much disappeared, I was still afraid. I don't exactly know what Newt meant by “take care of Greenie”.

I trust him. We’ve been by each other's side for so much, and I could never see one of us just leaving the other. Even if we get mad at each other, we always make up. Whether that means spending some time apart until we’re ready to talk about it and come up with a solution, apologizing before it can get to that point, or giving in and holding each other until we go to sleep, we make sure to work it out someway. We love each other way too much to let an argument pull us apart. Besides, we don't even argue enough for it to be worth it. We always make it through any bad time and come out so much stronger when things are absolutely amazing again.

That didn't mean I wasn't worried though. Greenie just got here so we don't know a lot about him. Plus, Newt was so vague last night. There was no telling what he had planned.

“Morning, love,”He yawned, running his fingers down my arm.

“Morning,”I mumbled, rolling over and hugging him, resting my head under his chin again. Letting out a small laugh, he pressed his lips to my forehead.

“You want to get up early and get some breakfast?”He suggested in a deep morning voice.

“No,”I mumbled, closing my eyes.

“You want to stay here?”

“Mhm,”I nodded. Lazily running his hands down my back, he stayed silent but still to let me know that they was just fine with him.

Laying with him, I kept taking deep breaths, inhaling his calming scent of the garden. It wasn't actually the smell itself that was calming. It’s the fact that I associate it with him. He’s always there. He always knows what I need, even if he panics or misundands for a moment. He always figures out what to do. Every problem is something we survive.

Whatever he was going to do, it was going to work out fine. Even though my stomach is still twisting in nervous knots, I'm sure of it.

♡ - - - ♡

It was insane. It was absolutely unreal. It was something I didn't know he was capable of.

Nobody knew what happened. As far as the story goes, Newt was just talking to Greenie and made a joke about his hair. This apparently set him off so much that he punched him in the eyes, bruising it. It was swollen, and he couldn't even see our of it.

I know that he could have blocked it. He was more than capable of handling himself. He was independent. Even though he loves his friends and me and is usually comfortable asking if he needs a hand, he knows how to look out for himself. He’s one of the strongest people here. Sure. Maybe Gally's got more physical strength but Newt’s mentality and emotional intelligence is through the roof. He can also take someone in a fight. I’ve seen him tackle out of control Greenis before.

He wanted proof though. He wanted his story to be as real as possible.

Greenis said a completely different thing. He told everyone that Newt was insulting him, calling him names and telling him he would never fit in here. He said that he was callous and threatened to hurt him.

Nobody believed him. Second-in-command, responsible, fair, brave, kind hearted Newt, being cruel to a confused Greenie? Newt randomly insulting anyone? That's just insane.

You're never supposed to harm another Glader. It's one of the only rules.

There's also an extreme price to pay if you break them.

I watched from a little ways away as the Keepers banished Greenie. They were trapping him in a circle, making it clear he wasn't escaping. Even though Greenie was blue in the face and screaming that Newt’s a no good liar who deserves to be murdered, he was ignored. To everyone, it was clear that he was trying to avaid punishment.

I watched as they pushed Greenie behind walls. Even though he was yelling and crying and begging and insulting, everyone tuned him out. They pretended he was nothing more than a Beetle Blade as they forced him behind the Maze walls, where he would never be seen again.

Newt took the knife and crossed Greenie's name off of the wall. He was completely calm and did so without even hesitation. He didn't even give anyone else a chance to do it. He just took the knife and erased Greenie from the Glade, forever.

Everyone walked away to go their work again. I however, set my now empty bowl down and walked over to him. He was simply humming to himself as he finished off. He didn't smile or show any sign of sadness. He was completely and utterly unbothered.

“Thank you, Newt. That’s the sweetest thing anyone's ever done,”I smiled, keeping my voice low.

“No idea what you're talking about, love. Just doing my job,”He shrugged, putting the knife down. Turning to face me, he held my face in his hands as he pressed a slow kissed my temple. Shutting my eyes, I savored the feeling of him being so close. He left a small touch of electricity on every part of my skin he touched. It wasn't a shocking or painful kind though. It was like ecstacy had been injected into my veins.

Pulling away, he threw me a subtle wink as he went to get ready for bed like nothing ever happened. Looking at the ground, I wore the biggest grin as I leaned against the wall.

Yeah. He definitely “took care of Greenie” alright. It was not in any way I could have ever imagined, but it was sure as shuck more than effective.

[timdrakemybeloved]

rant time:

people LOVE sirius black, and they don’t even know it. they want their faves to be sirius black so fucking bad, but their faves just aren’t, so what do they do? they give all of sirius’ complex, sometimes bad, sometimes good, extremely iconic and well known character traits to their faves, and make sirius one dimensional. meanwhile canon is right there proving them wrong, and their faves are a knock off sirius black, and canon sirius just does it better 🤷🏾‍♀️. they hate him so bad bc their faves could never.

like they make barty crouch jr and that evan rosier dude impulsive and sometimes cruel copy pastes of sirius in “slytherin skittle” fanon, even though we have like two seconds of canon from rosier and everything we know about barty is from insane circumstances. we know nothing about rosier, and we only know that barty is good at dada, kind of a competent teacher, insane and devoted to the dark lord. the entire time we know barty, he’s literally pretending to be someone else. and he’s succeeding, so much so that dumbledore, who knew moody for forever didn’t realize.

they makes regulus a heroic champion for disenfranchised groups even though he literally does not give a fuck. he didn’t care until his house elf was harmed. and they make sirius a bad guy for not rescuing regulus like hello?? sirius rescued himself. it was not his responsibility to rescue regulus. if regulus wanted to be rescued so damn bad, maybe he should have done it himself. they make regulus a scapegoat in the black family as if he wasn’t the perfect son who believed in their bigoted beliefs and swore as a death eater willingly… like if you want a rebel, someone who was disowned for their beliefs SIRIUS IS RIGHT THERE. and andromeda now that i think about it.

they make sirius short and dramatic and twinky and one dimensional and dumb so remus can be a tall genius who pulls people left and right. meanwhile, sirius got all o’s while putting in zero effort his entire time at school, he’s tall and charming and he’s an extremely complex character. oh and REMUS IS SHOWN READING A BOOK ONE TIME. how does that make him a genius. sirius is in fact one of the least one dimensional characters in the entire series, one of the few people with a nuanced view on dark and light, good and bad, death eater and non death eater, slytherin and non slytherin. and he teaches harry that, he tells him how the world isn’t divided into good people and death eaters, he tells him how everyone has good and bad in them and the only thing that matters is your actions. i firmly believe that if sirius found out about harry almost sorting slytherin, he would not have been phased.

they make sirius conflate harry with james, when that’s literally not true. he lashed out when harry wouldn’t agree to meet in gof, because harry cared more about sirius’ safety than sirius did, because sirius needed to help harry. and the “nice one, james” isn’t even canon to me, or canon in the books. but his priority, always, is harry’s safety and happiness. just because molly weasley wants to hide information from harry, that he’ll later find out anyway in horrible ways from people who use it against him, doesn’t mean sirius is a bad parent. just because molly thinks hiding information from harry will signal to voldemort that harry is a child and shouldn’t be attacked, doesn’t mean sirius is a bad parent.

sirius is actually the best parent for harry, because he understands that whatever harry wants, harry will be a target. harry needs information to keep him safe. i mean, see what happens when people don’t tell harry that the dark lord wants something in the department of mysteries and would try and trick him there! sirius is VERY vocal about harry not being reckless, and harry listens to him! when he send a note not to be reckless, harry thinks snidely about sirius’ hypocrisy and then does exactly what sirius asks, like a normal teenager. this is the balance needed to be an effective parent to a child like harry potter. and you know who DOES conflate harry and james, even though they’re two very different people with very different pasts? SNAPE.

and what is it with people giving harry a third parent, and it’s like…. regulus, who they erase lily for. they erase james too bc in what world would james go for a death eater? he has SUCH rigid beliefs, to the point of harming people for being death eaters in school. or it’s remus, who doesn’t give a fuck about harry, and doesn’t even remotely have a relationship with him. he gives up chances to be in harry’s life constantly, and he’s not at all reliable or a constant figure in harry’s life. or it’s fucking snape, who verbally abused harry for the entire series… like do y’all really think the dark lord was monitering snape and crucio-ing him if he sees signs of snape being a neutral teacher? snape’s actions towards harry (and neville actually) are reprehensible and entirely his responsibility, not some act to satisfy voldemort.

and sirius is right there!! harry trusts him, harry loves him, harry VIEWS HIM AS A PARENT, and those factors literally aren’t there for any other adult in the series. sirius was there for harry the second he could be, and he reached out over and over to make sure harry knew he could come to him, and you know what? harry did come to him. when harry had a dream of voldemort and his scar was hurting, when harry was entered into the triwizard tournament, sirius did so much for harry and never complained because he loved him and he was devoted to harry.

and sirius has a fuck ton of flaws too! he has ptsd and anger issues, he lashes out at harry when he wants harry to meet (because he values harry’s safety far over his own, while harry doesn’t), he hurts people intentionally, he hates kreacher (not because he’s a house elf, but because of his actions, and sirius’s trauma), he can be reckless, he doesn’t give a shit about legality, like he’s a flawed dude. but some things he’s not are an unmitigated asshole to children, a bigot, or an irresponsible parent.