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ak319 · 20 days

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Yan Socialite Brother x reader x Yan?Hubby

YOUR LITTLE EZZY'S BACK! So I couldn't help but write more about him. I will also write a version with the reader's wife. Enjoy reading ♡ Ezra Headcanon

In the dark hours, the Alvarez estate was shrouded in a thick silence, broken only by the occasional crackle of the fire that danced in the hearth. Shadows stretched across the grand, dimly lit room, adding to the air of peculiar mystery that seemed to cloak the entire estate. Ezra sat motionless, his gaze fixed on the flames that flickered with a restless energy, mirroring the turmoil within him. The news you had shared with him still echoed in his mind, fanning the fire of his emotions, making it burn hotter, fiercer.

"Amir?.." his eyes were fixed on your back as you scrummaged through the bookshelf. You replied back gently. "Yes, Amir. The boy who works on one of the farms."

So a slave huh?

And then you explained everything to Ezra, from how you saw Amir, appreciated his gentle nature, and were now thinking of bringing him here as your groom. Ezra’s rage simmered beneath the surface, though his fake smile and curious eyes never left your face. But your tone didn’t match the word "thinking", it clearly said, "I am bringing him as my groom." He was happy… happy for you. But on the other hand, he wasn’t happy for himself.

This was the day he had dreaded. For his own peace of mind, he sent one of his attendants, Rowan, to inquire about this so-called Amir. The report? Amir was a poor servant with three siblings and parents who also worked on the farm. Amir was the oldest. Hm. Poor, innocent, loyal, and not too bad-looking, though in Ezra's eyes, everyone pales in comparison to Alvarez's. Nobody can ever be good enough for you. He just didn't want his sister to marry a dirt-face. After all, their family has a certain dignity in society. There was something he relished in this situation, Amir’s meekness, bred by his lower status, was something Ezra could use and if his sister were to marry, it should be to someone who knows their place.

༺𓆩❀𓆪༻

Amir couldn’t shake the memory of the way you approached him that day.

“M-my lady-”

“It’s okay, relax. Just came to greet you and see how the work is going.” His hand continued to glide through the horse’s mane, though his gaze, filled with shyness and respect, lingered on you. You loved that. “What’s your name, boy?”

“A-Amir…ma’am.” You asked him more questions, and with each one, his initial fear of you began to fade. Eventually, he even dared to ask some of his own. He didn’t realize that he had backed away to the fence, cornered by your every step forward.

“I don’t think a…” You gently removed a leaf from his silky hair. “A pretty thing like you belongs on a farm.” His quick breaths brushed your face before he turned away. Did you just compliment him?! How could you not? He was so unique with that snowy hair and those pale green eyes. “U-um, but I have to-w-work to earn-for-”

“What if I say, not anymore?”

On that very day, you boldly asked his parents for his hand in marriage, right there on the farm, while Amir stood paralyzed in disbelief. His parents, naturally, agreed without a moment's pause, and his heart raced as he caught your final glance over your shoulder before you rode off with your men. How could a humble servant like him ever be worthy of becoming your husband? The idea felt impossible, undeserved. But as the reality settled in, he came to see it not as a blessing but as a test---a daunting trial between love, loyalty, hate… and obsession.

༺𓆩❀𓆪༻

'Time to play some games' Ezra smirked in the mirror as he gave himself a once-over. "Nobody can outshine you Ezra or take your place, nobody."

The grand staircase of the mansion, lavishly adorned for his sister's wedding, became the stage for Ezra's entrance. As he descended, everyone’s eyes were drawn to him. His gaze landed on you seated beside Amir on the sofa, and his smirk widened at the sight of Amir’s expression. Those doe eyes that have seduced his sister were now filled with embarrassment, as they should be.

Amir was at a loss. His brother-in-law, dressed in an outfit nearly identical to his own--albeit more glamorous and in a different color--had just exposed Ezra's facade. All the sweet words and actions before the wedding had been an act. Ezra settled onto the cushion next to you, casually nibbling on some food from the table, savoring the revelation of his little game.

"Ezra, you should have rested," you said, your tone carrying a hint of concern. Amir was taken aback, noticing your relaxed demeanour. It seemed you hadn’t caught onto Ezra’s stunt. It wasn’t your fault, after all. Maybe you are too tired to notice or don't want to scold your brother, whom you cherish deeply, especially in front of guests—many of whom were now eyeing Ezra with a mix of admiration and curiosity. His display was a calculated reminder that he would always eclipse Amir. Ezra had even missed the official ceremony, claiming illness as his excuse and retreating to his room.

"Nonsense!. How could I have missed my own sister's wedding? And did you forget that I managed all these preparations?. I would never miss it."

'Oh, but you missed the vow ceremony, how convenient and now he's here to remind everyone how he managed all of this and such a good brother-in-law he is by being sweet to me and my family.'

"Do I look good, sister?"

"Of course you do. When have you ever looked bad?" You reached out to pat his head affectionately before pulling a small pouch from your pocket. "This is for you Ezra, a token of appreciation for your efforts, as tradition dictates."

Ezra’s eyes sparkled with delight as he accepted the pouch of gold. "It was nothing. Thank you so much. I just did my duty."

He got up soon to cater to guests including Amir's family probably to show off how humble he is.

The only thing keeping Amir sane and easing his worries was you. Your hand held his gently, and he felt comforted by the ring you put on his finger. He placed his other hand on yours, needing the reassurance that you were there for him.

‘As long as you’re here,’ he kept praying silently.

However, as days passed since the marriage, Ezra's facade toward his brother-in-law began to crumble in your absence. Amir couldn’t understand why Ezra, who had been nothing but nice to him, now seemed to act cold and distant.

The taunts, the disgusted glances, and the deliberate ignoring of Amir had become a painful routine. What troubled him the most was Ezra’s ability to put on a friendly front when you were around. He wondered how a person could even do that? Can he be this deceitful too? His parents always taught him to be kind and true to people. That is why he bared himself to you, he opened his heart to you and gave himself completely. By now he had come to terms with it that Ezra won't ever see him as part of the family much less as an equal. But he remained focused on making sure you were happy with him, that he never made you upset with him because that is what Ezra wants but with Amir's modest and docile nature, it was nearly impossible,

"You know, Amir, since my sister is away on a business trip, you might as well stay with your parents for a while." Amir looked up from his untouched breakfast, confusion and concern etched on his face.

"U-um... why?"

"Why?" Ezra's lips curled into a dismissive smirk. "Well, your duty is to her, and since she’s not here, you might as well go. It’s not like you’re doing anything important around here."

"But—"

"I’ll have the carriage prepared." And just like that he got up and left, Rowan tailing behind him. And so, Amir found himself spending days with his family. His spirits lifted somewhat in their comforting presence, but his thoughts were always clouded by how much he longed to be in your arms. However...

"You don’t just get up and leave like this. Did you even realize how badly this reflects on me? My spouse just vanished after a few days of marriage. I expected you to be waiting for me at the door, but instead, you were here." Your words felt like sharp needles piercing his heart, making him clutch the carriage’s cushion tighter. His mind was filled with images of Ezra welcoming you back, whispering deceitful tales of how he had left.

'He was bored.'

'He doesn’t like it here. I think he doesn't even want to make an effort to adjust.'

'He didn’t even bother to greet you. What kind of husband is he, sister?'

"(Y/N), I d-didn’t mean to leave. It’s just--" What could he say to avoid further anger? Should he blame Ezra? The thought of making excuses or casting blame only added to his distress.

"I don’t care. Next time, don’t leave like that. And if you feel the need to, ask me first. Got it? Also, you can just call your family to visit there. That’s your home now, you don’t have to keep coming back here." He nodded, biting his lip. 'As if your brother would ever let my family feel welcome there. I would never subject them to that mansion of thorns, to be insulted. That’s something I won’t tolerate.'

"Forgive me?" he asked softly, leaning closer to you. "Please, I missed you with every breath." A tired sigh and a gentle caress on his face were all he received, but even that was more than enough for him.

༺𓆩❀𓆪༻

Time seemed to pass slowly for Amir, each day filled with torment and venomous words from Ezra. He hid his tears, letting them out in some corner of the mansion , so that when you returned, he could greet you with a smile. He didn’t know what to do. He didn't want to stress you by complaining about your brother or involving you in this petty game. He felt like he was going mad as he dwelled on his thoughts. The books offered some solace, but he wished his life were more like a fairytale.

“Well, I thought you should take care of the household budget now, but I think it’s too soon for you to handle this. There are a number of reasons for my distrust, which... I would prefer not to share.”

“It’s alright... I just joined the family, so I think it’s inappropriate for me to take on that responsibility. And brother Ezra is handling it well anyway.”

“Thank you for understanding.” You gently played with his hair as his head rested on your lap. “I love how understanding you are.” He melted under your compliment, the magical touch adding to his contentment.

“Anything for you, wife. You know better than me. Whatever decision you make, I’ll always accept it.” He kissed your finger, his heart swelling with happiness at the sight of the ring you wore. The ring his family had bought with whatever they could afford, and yet you wore it. You were the only one who hadn’t looked down on him because of his status. You even cared for his family, sending them provisions and gifts.

Actually, there was another person who hadn't looked down on Amir--your mother, Ms. Grace. She was a woman who preferred solitude, keeping herself busy with her hobbies after her husband's death. Whenever Amir felt alone, he made sure to check on her, offering company and conversation.

“You’re a really good boy. My daughter found a gem.” Amir smiled, but his eyes told a different story. They were seated in Grace’s study, having tea. “Something troubles you, and I know what it is. It’s Ezra, isn’t it?” Damn it, is it that obvious?

“N-no, no, he’s nice. I’m just--”

“Oh, save it. He’s my son, I can smell his shenanigans from miles away. And that daughter of mine—utterly stupid!. She’s the reason he’s like this. Either she’s too aloof or just chooses to ignore it.”

“No, no! She has a lot on her plate. I just don’t want to burden her with such petty problems. She brought me here so that she could find peace, not for me to disrupt it.” Grace’s heart swelled with pity and love at his words. “You are my son too, okay? And I’m just trying to help you understand that you’re the only one who can help yourself.”

“W-what does that mean?”

"It means you have to be strong. You’re not some piece of garbage my daughter picked up. She brought you here, gave you a title, and bestowed you with respect--so honor it, and don’t let anyone take it away just because they think you don’t deserve it. My in-laws were a piece of work too. May their souls rest in peace, but I went through some tough times with them. What kept me firm was my husband. Do you get my point?"

Her in-laws--oh, what a tragedy that befell them on that ferry. The whole town was shaken. Perhaps it was their karma.

“Yes.”

"You love her, right?" His head snapped up to meet her eyes. Was that even a question?

"More than anything! Always."

"Then don’t beat yourself up like this. Just do your part and leave the rest to God. Everything will be alright one day." Amir nodded and took a sip of his remaining tea, feeling a bit lighter and more hopeful. She was right. Being depressed and crying wouldn’t get him anywhere. Worse, you might even leave him because of his sulky behavior. His fingers tightened around the saucer.

༺𓆩❀𓆪༻

"Sir Ezra has called for you," Rowan informed him as he was putting on his shoes. The two of you were getting ready for dinner. "Me?"

"Yes, you, sir. In his room."

"I'll be there." He glanced at you as you were fastening your coat. "Yeah, go ahead, I'll be waiting downstairs." He nodded and left, but not before helping you with your sleeve buttons and giving you a quick peck.

"You called for me?" His smooth voice reverberated in the quiet room, his eyes finding Ezra nestled in his giant bed.

"Oh yes, you two are going out, right? Could you tell (Y/N) to bring back those pastries that I love?" Something felt off.

Amir swallowed the uneasiness and glanced between Ezra and Rowan. "Sure. Anything else?"

"No. That would be all, thank you."

As always, you had chosen a high-end restaurant, and your presence and attention made him forget all his worries. This was what he cherished the most, his time with you. Your care, your love. He felt, no, believed that he was the luckiest man alive. Contrary to Grace's words, you did pick him from the trash and made him your treasure.

When you both entered the mansion hand in hand, your smile immediately faded into a worried frown.

"EZRA!" Amir barely had time to react as he saw you rush up the stairs where Ezra was now slumped against the railing. The bag of pastries had been thrown from your hands and lay at his feet.

"ROWAN! CALL THE DOCTOR! What happened, Ezra?!"

"Di-did you bring the med...?" Ezra's one hand gripped your collar as the other his stomach.

"What medicine?!"

"The one I asked for..." Ezra's weary, hollow gaze turned to Amir, sending a chill through his very core. "Rowan, help me carry him." You shot a sharp glance over your shoulder at Amir as you hurried up the stairs.

'He did it again... God,' Thought Amir as he bent down to collect the crumbles scattered on the carpet. They mirrored his own shattered emotions and the fractured state of his new life.

༺𓆩❀𓆪༻

"I swear he asked for pastries... you believe me, don't you!? Please!"

"I said, let it go. Just shut up." You settled onto the bed, sighing as you saw him standing in the corner, emotionless.

"Amir, come here. There is something you should know." Your tone was soft, almost apologetic.

He sat beside the bed, his eyes cast on the floor. "Listen, I feel like you both don't get along, but that needs to change, okay? He is my brother, and you are my husband. Both of you are important to me. And I wanted to tell you that soon after having a talk with him, I will ask Mother to find a suitable bride for him. This family needs an heir."

Wait...

"Heir?"

"Yes, an heir. Even though, as you know, I'm not a fan of children in any shape or form, the line needs to continue. That is Ezra's duty, so he is essential to me. This whole tedious business of having children...ugh." You rubbed your forehead in frustration. "Whatever. But we will also treat them like our own, okay?" You loathed the idea of carrying a child yourself, and Amir was just as opposed to the thought of you experiencing any discomfort. The thought of losing you over that made him shiver. The business was more important to you than anything, and you made that very clear before marriage. Your word was law. Still, he couldn’t help but ask.

"C-can't we both... adopt, though?"

"That's for another day and why adopt now when we can have our own? Ezra has to marry someday. It’s completely fair. He needs to grow up now."

Your tone and earlier outburst made him nod frantically, but a new emotion stirred within him , something close to amusement. Oh, how will Ezra react when you make him marry someone. Maybe it’s for the best, 'At least he’ll get off my back, hopefully.'

Yet, he also felt pity for the woman who would be bound to that two-faced bastard. Is your only goal to use your brother as a breeder? That’s even more amusing.

As you lay down, he went to the bathroom and stared at himself in the mirror. If Ezra were to provide you with a child one day, wouldn’t that make him more honorable in your eyes?

'No, after today’s stunt, I’ve had enough of this.'

You want a child, an heir--that’s clear, that's fine. But he won’t let Ezra exploit this situation.

༺𓆩❀𓆪༻

"I--I mean--" Ezra stammered, his usual confidence wavering as he tried to find the right words.

You held his face in your hands, your grip firm yet gentle, your eyes searching his. "It's not like I am asking for something outrageous here," you said, your tone soft but laced with expectation.

Ezra's eyes darted away for a moment, then back to you. "I get you, but isn’t it too soon? I mean-"

"You're of age," you cut him off, your tone now tinged with a bit of annoyance. "You’ve never rejected anything I’ve asked of you before, and now you are?"

"NO! No, absolutely not, sister!" Ezra's voice was a mix of desperation and determination. "How can you even think that? I will do it. I will." Inside, though, his mind rebelled. It’s not the marriage that Ezra hates, it’s the idea of spending his life with some annoying woman. What if she turns out to be a snake too?! Oh, he won't forgive that, ever. His eyes betrayed a flicker of dread before he quickly masked it with a forced smile.

"Great, then. Mother will surely find the most amazing match for you," you said with finality, turning to leave. "Just make sure to tell her what your type is. Remember, she shouldn’t just be a good wife but a perfect mother for my heir too."

Without another word, you exited the room, leaving Ezra alone with his spiraling thoughts. Did Amir put this idea in your head? Sometimes, Ezra just wanted to kill that son of a-

"Deep breaths, Ezra, deep breaths," he muttered to himself, trying to quell the surge of frustration. Yeah, his sister wouldn’t be happy if her husband was torn to pieces. 'This is your life now', seeing Amir’s face in this mansion every single day, and soon enough, a wife’s too. Ugh! He threw a vase at the wall in a fit of irritation. He won't ever be in peace until you divorce Amir.

He couldn’t afford to dwell on that for now. He had to carry out your order, even if he despised the thought of dealing with an annoying woman and whining babies. You had given him a task, a job, and he couldn’t let you down. He would never let you down.

༺𓆩❀𓆪༻

Ezra's bride, Jean Aston, had been chosen--an arrangement made with a family friend. While Ezra couldn't have cared less about the choice, he at least appreciated that Jean stood out with her striking red hair and green eyes. His wife needed to be of some caliber, though in his view, only one person could be the true beauty of the marriage, and that person was unquestionably him. However, he also acknowledged the importance of passing on good genes to the heir you desired.

What he hadn’t expected was Jean’s bubbly demeanor. Wasn't she the one who had been too shy to meet him before the wedding?

"Can you be quiet? Can you be a bit more demure?" Ezra snapped, his patience wearing thin as she chattered incessantly, sitting beside him after their vows. "Look at me--am I being so chattery? Bride and groom are supposed to be graceful, woman."

Jean’s expression soured beneath her veil. "Wow, I was just trying to make small talk. I’ve been quiet since our engagement, so I’m going to talk now that we’re married. Also when is the food going to served?I am starving, how can-"

'God, just let this ceremony end already.'

Meanwhile, in the far corner of the room, Amir sighed, silently wishing Jean the best. Poor girl didn’t know what she was in for. His mind wandered back to his own wedding, the memory leaving a bitter taste in his mouth. It was hard not to compare the two experiences and feel a twinge of sympathy for her. At least you are way better than Ezra. A lot...no, perfect in his eyes. Always.

Once they retreated to their room, Ezra lifted Jean's veil with a cold, expressionless face, cutting her off before she could utter a word.

"There are some things you need to engrain in that skull of yours. First, always show respect for my sister. Always. You know that, don’t you? Secondly, try talking less and listening more."

"Got it! Now, where’s my wedding gift?" Jean’s cheerful interruption made Ezra’s jaw tighten, but he quickly masked his irritation with a smooth composure.

"No, you tell me first--who advised you to wear a harvest gold veil with such questionable embroidery? Huh? Such a poor fashion choice. I’ve explicitly told your family that gold is my color, I wear it. I don’t want to see you in it again." His fingers traced the material with a disdainful touch. "This abomination definitely needs fixing ." Though the veil was actually quite pretty, he couldn’t accept the fact that she looked good in it-- perhaps more than he did which is a big no.

༺𓆩❀𓆪༻

Months later, the mansion, once quiet and dull, now echoed with the cries of a baby boy whom you named, Joseph. Ezra handed you the baby first which you were hesitant to hold but did anyway, after all you asked for this. It only lasted for a few minutes before he dozed off in Jean's arms.

"Jean," you said, gently patting her head. She looked up at you with a mix of nervousness and curiosity, her eyes brightening with anticipation. You took the papers from Amir and handed them to her. "Here's a gift. A plot, in your name and another in dear Joseph's. You’ve earned it."

Jean’s eyes widened with surprise and gratitude. "Y-you didn’t have to, (Y/N)-"

"Jean," Ezra scolded gently, his tone surprising you. It seemed that your brother had softened a bit since Joseph’s birth.

"Don’t refuse (Y/N)'s gift. Accept it," he added. Jean nodded, her shyness evident, but her gratitude clear as she met your gaze. "Thank you, (Y/N)."

"Good, now rest. The nanny will arrive soon," you instructed, leaving with Amir in tow. Ezra shot a disapproving look at Amir as they exited.

"Don’t be rude to Brother Amir like that," Jean reprimanded.

"It’s none of your concern. Stop being his defender, anyway. Focus on the child, his upbringing must be perfect. And take care of yourself too--I don’t want you fainting while feeding him." With that, Ezra stormed out. Jean sighed, finding him as unpredictable as ever--hot one moment, cold the next.

The tragedy that struck when Joseph was just six months old was unexpected. The poor child fell gravely ill, and even the doctors couldn't pinpoint what was wrong with his stomach. But by some blessing, everyone's prayers were answered when Amir's remedy worked, one his mother used to give when they were sick as children and Joseph was saved. Had it been a moment later, who knows what could have happened. Even though Ezra didn't bother to thank Amir, it didn’t matter. Amir did it for you, for your child.

༺𓆩❀𓆪༻

"You know, I think it's been a while since I married you," you murmured, lost in thought.

Amir looked up from his book and chuckled, "Oh, you realized it now? I think it's been more than a while, my dearest."

"I know, I know." You now stood where he was seated, gently caressing his cheek. "I think it's time you start doing your duty here." You handed him the seal, "You're in charge of the household's budget now." Amir's eyes widened in surprise. "B-but brother Ezra--"

"Shush," you interrupted. "I decide how things are run here. And I’m giving you this responsibility. Don’t disappoint me."

He nodded, a grateful smile spreading across his face as he kissed your knuckles. "Never, I won’t ever dream of it."

From within, his heart was bursting with happiness. At last, he had something--something he wanted, something he could use as leverage against Ezra. His plan had worked flawlessly. His hidden knowledge of botany had made it all possible; plants to make poison, plants to make antidote. A soft giggle escaped him and so did some tears, as you left the room, the seal twirling between his fingers.

Deep inside, he couldn’t ignore the guilt gnawing at him as he saw the pain etched on everyone’s faces over Joseph. His own tears stung with remorse, but he believed it was a good plan--a necessary one to win your trust, your love. He hadn’t wanted to be so heartless, to poison his own child, but he felt he had no choice. Being Ezra’s doormat for so long had worn him down. And for once, watching Ezra in distress was so worth it. Amir couldn’t help but relish every moment.

(AN: OmG, Amir really turned dark, the poor innocent boi. Look how Ezra massacred my boy)

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veritasangel · 1 month

Text

Endearing efforts *࿐

Ft. Simon Riley

contains: anypov, nsfw mentions {mdni}, soft and inexperienced simon

wc: 1.3k

a/n: i always give you guys soft simon, i'm sorry, i can't help it !!

Simon Riley was a man of few words. His world had always been one of precision and discipline, where he buried emotions in favour of survival. And all this changed when you came into his life.

Dating Simon was, in the sense, much like peeling an onion—the layers of this stoic soldier had to be very slowly unwrapped to reveal the tender inside. He isn't used to being in romantic relationships, and that much was quite evident. But what he lacked in experience, he made up for in sincerity, often expressing his feelings in the most endearing ways.

It was small things at first. Simon wasn't quite sure how to go about holding hands, but he noticed how you'd reach for him sometimes when you walked together. One day, he took a deep breath and just went for it—his grip a little too firm, like he was scared you might slip away. He was just a tad clammy, and you could tell it was nervousness. You smiled, giving his hand a reassuring squeeze, and he relaxed ever so slightly, the smallest of smiles tugging at the corners of his lips.

Compliments, however, were another challenge for Simon. The first time he tried to give one he stumbled over his words, the normal confident demeanour slipping just far enough away that he appeared to be struggling.

"You… you look suitable," he stammered, the phrase awkward on his tongue. Probably not the kind of compliment you wanted to get, but it was indeed Simon—straightforward, unpolished, and honest.

It wasn't the finest choice of words you had ever heard in your life, but the lingering of his eyes on you, the fact that he could not tear his gaze away, really spoke the most. It felt like he was committing it all to memory because he just couldn't believe that you were real. Though at a loss of words himself, his eyes spoke everything for him then, how enchanted he was and what you meant to him.

His attempts at romance might have been awkward and hesitant, but they were genuine. And it was through those very small, very clumsy moments that you found depth of affection which had you fall for him even more. Simon showed his love through actions, often unconsciously. He would instinctively move you onto the inside of the pavement when walking, and the protective nature in him shone in very subtle ways.

It wasn't just a case of keeping you safe from oncoming traffic; he wanted to ensure that you were always in his line of vision, where he could keep you close and safe. You sometimes found him—when he didn't know you were looking—to skim through surroundings with sharp, observant eyes, his gaze on every person in close proximity to you.

He'd silently hang his jacket over your shoulders if he ever thought you looked cold, wordlessly—even if it caused him to shiver. The well-worn jacket smelled faintly of his cologne and something uniquely Simon—a mix of gunpowder, pine, and the outdoors, all rugged like him. It was a silent way of wrapping you in his warmth, his protection.

Slowly but surely, over time, he would open up to you. It wasn't easy for him; letting his guard down was unnatural, but he wanted you to know you meant a lot to him. So he'd share bits of himself with you, be that some story from his past or what was going through his mind on a rough day and allow you to help him.

And he would do the same with you, he’d listen, really listen, when you spoke, his eyes focused on you as if you were the most vital mission he had ever been given.

Sometimes, when you were lost in your own thoughts or just plain worn out from a rough day, Simon's fingers would intertwine with yours. The way that he took your hand, firm yet light, said he was there, that you weren't alone, no matter what. It was these very small gestures, which spoke the loudest, revealing a depth of care and affection that he struggled to put into words.

And on those rare occasions when he allowed himself to be vulnerable, when his guard dropped just enough for you to see the man beneath the soldier, he’d lean into you. His forehead pressed against yours in a quiet moment of connection, silently telling you everything he felt, how much he needed you—though not quite knowing how to express it.

These were the moments that made your heart swell—the almost imperceptible, unconscious ways in which Simon loved you. It wasn't necessary for him to tell you; it had already been there in every protective glance, every tender touch, and every selfless act.

He could be so clueless about romance, and that was one of the most adorable things about Simon. He did his best, but sometimes he really fumbled. Like the time when he bought you flowers and realised halfway through dinner that he forgot to remove the price tag.

Or the time he tried to cook for you, following the recipe to a T, but ended up with something resembling a science experiment gone wrong. You laughed, and he did too—a rare sound which you treasured—and you ended up ordering takeaway instead, content to just be with him.

Simon’s rough past had left him unfamiliar with the nuances of intimacy, and his experiences had rarely ventured beyond the surface. It was quite a surprise when, one night, after some kisses and teasing touches, he blurted out that he was a virgin. The blush on his face as he said it was endearing, even grabbing a cushion to hide his growing bulge.

Something was very sweet about his candour; in a way, his vulnerability made him approachable. Despite his lack of experience, his earnest desire to be close to you and his willingness to learn made every moment shared together feel special and deeply personal.

His fingers were soft and uncertain at first, feeling their way tentatively as if mapping a new landscape he was not familiar with. As time came to pass, though, he became more confident, his hands learning the rhythm of your body as if they traced a cherished jewel. Each caress was a quiet symphony of devotion, his fingers danced across your skin in a way that spoke of deep admiration and affection.

His kisses, once hesitant, now held a sweetness that conveyed his longing to cherish you in every possible way. You could almost see a silent poetry in his eyes, a verse he had yet to learn how to write with his heart. He offered you a devotion that felt timeless, every touch an echo of how deeply you were loved.

Even with inexperience, Simon's love came across in all he did. He wasn't perfect, and that seemed the beauty behind it all. He really tried—actually did—and inside every little, often awkward effort was a real care. He became easier, surer with time, but never lost that sweet, so very clueless charm that had drawn you to him from the beginning.

It wasn't big gestures and perfectly timed romantic moments that had made your relationship special in the end. It was Simon's unwavering sincerity, quiet determination to make you happy, and a showing in his own way of just how much he loved you.

And that more than anything made you love him all the more.

༄ m.list

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itsswritten · 3 months

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Cauldron-born.

“I hadn’t meant to hide this from you Rhysand,” Helion’s usual warm tone was replaced with something sterner, bolder— unwavering.

A breeze pulled on your skirt, the floaty material rippling under the wind. It was always warm in Day, but now, with the appearance of uninvited guests, there was a coldness in the air you hadn’t experienced before.

A bite that pulled at your skin raising goosebumps across your arms.

You guessed this reaction wasn’t a rare occurrence when facing the Night Courts Inner Circle.

Helion shifted his weight, his body stood in front of yours in a protective manner. A nervousness emitted from his energy, an emotion that actually seemed strange to even be associated with him.

Helion wasn’t the nervous type. Charming and flirtatious, bold and defiant— not nervous.

Helion pushed his shoulders back, his stance flexing against the shadowy group that had just arrived.

They had shaken him.

Perhaps you were naive to think these people wouldn’t, naive to believe you could live your life quietly. Slip through the cracks. Go unnoticed. No you were not destined for that, as much as your dear friend may have wanted that for you.

So if a quiet life was not meant to be, then you would at least claim it as yours.

With a light step you moved from behind Helion to his side, coming into full view of the group who had appeared unannounced in the courtyard. Your hand came to Helion’s gently, giving him a soft squeeze and light smile that stretched to your eyes.

How they had gotten through Day Courts shields didn’t come as a surprise really. Helion had divulged how powerful the High Lord of the Night Court was. That if he really wanted to take them all down, then Helion suspected in that unrelenting pit of power Rhys probably could.

But despite this power, Rhys had never ravaged control over the land. Helion was fond of Rhys and his family, they were allies. Perhaps he would even consider them friendly.

And yet Helion hadn’t told them about you.

Energies and rhythms rippled from their bodies, all with their own melody of colours unique to them floating towards you. Your eyes scanned over their features quickly, reading their expressions, the tight lines their faces made before one look pulled you to a hasty stop.

A hazel lock held you tightly as a males gaze ensnared you.

Golden rays broke through a midnight blue aura, trapping you in a moment that seemed to expand and retract all at once. He was the most beautiful male you’d ever laid eyes on, and it took every ounce of will power to pull your gaze from his.

There was a simmering at the pit of your stomach, something familiar and warm, and you swore you could hear singing—

“She is like us.” A female from the back of the crowd spoke, beautiful and sweet. Elain, you assumed. Her aura, one that resembled sunlight radiating in golden flicks. If you hadn’t known who she was you’d had assumed she was a Day court resident from her glow alone.

Elain stepped forward, another female stepping beside her as if they’d both been pulled by the same magnetic pulse to the front of the group.

This girl. This girl was Nesta. You were sure of it. That silver flickering aura licked at her skin, an energy so similar and yet so different to her sisters.

“Hm..no not exactly like us…” Elain seemed to mutter then, more to herself than anyone else. Her eyes scanning you as she tried to get a read, try and decipher what had pulled her here in the first place.

Why you had pulled them here.

“Something other.” Nesta spoke.

You don’t think she’d actually intended for it to sound so venomous, but the words had snapped like poison. You noticed how for a split second there was a softeness in her energy. Whether she was regretful of her tone or not, you had flinched at the word.

Other.

Hm. Perhaps that was the best way to describe you.

Elain glanced at her sister, her face not changing as she digested Nesta’s words. There was a shuffling behind them, only slight and small. Would barely be noticeable if it wasn’t so hard for you not to notice.

Him.

His scarred fingers twitched at his sides, shadows swirling around them as they peered over those giant black membranes that were drawn in at his back. A tattoo creeped up the side of his neck, peeking through his shirt as you followed up to his jaw. Black leather’s covered his body, blue siphons shimmering under the setting sun. You tried so hard not to let your eyes wander back, but as though you had no control you gaze landed on his.

Only to find he was already staring.

Azriel.

Helion had mentioned him to you before and you recalled how you had rolled the name a few times in your mouth. The name feeling so foreign and familiar all at once.l that you couldn’t help ripple the syllables on your tongue.

“Not cauldron-made, no not quite.” Elain had turned her attention back to you.

You had stepped forward now, stepped out from the shadow of Helion.

Stepped out to face what you had been avoiding.

“You are Cauldron-born.”

—

a/n: little rough draft of a new idea??! maybe?? I literally just came up with it and not really sure where I'm taking it hehe or if I even will. I know it's super vague so if an idea comes to mind when you read this then please share in the comment hehe

forever tags: @sleepylunarwolf @daily-dose-of-sass @alittlelostalittlefound-blog @milswrites @amberlynn98 @marscardigan @illyrianbitch @lilah-asteria

#azriel fanfic #azriel x reader #azriel shadowsinger #acotar azriel #azriel acotar #reader x azriel #azriel x y/n #azriel x you #azriel spymaster #azriel series #acotar series

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ghsface · 2 months

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BUT WHEN YOU GET ME ALONE, IT'S SO SIMPLE | spencer reid

Sumary: After years of friendship you decide to ruin it for good

Warnings: (18+ MDNI) soft!dom spencer, oral sex (f), semi-public, p in v sex, If I'm missing something, let me know

Word count: idk i just started writing and i couldn't stop

Author's note: So this is my first smut I hate it but I like it at the same time, tell me what you think, I also have so many things to publish, tell me if you want to be on my tag list, I'm sorry if there are misspelled words or spelling mistakes, my first language is not English🎀

The clock struck nine at night and the FBI office in Quantico was unusually quiet. The fluorescent lights flickered occasionally, adding a touch of surrealism to the atmosphere. You had decided to stay a little later to finish a report that had been piling up on your desk for days.

In the distance, you could see the tall, thin figure of Spencer Reid, still absorbed in his work. Ever since you joined the team, you had felt an undeniable attraction to Spencer. His intelligence, his unique way of being, and his charming shyness had captured you from the first moment.

You had noticed that your eyes met more often than you considered casual, and every interaction, no matter how small, left a mark on your mind.

There was something about Spencer that attracted you in a way you couldn't explain.

The way his eyes lit up when he talked about something he was passionate about, or the way he bit his lip when he was focused on his readings.

He was a man who hid so much depth behind a facade of calmness and analysis.

That night, as you went over your notes, your thoughts inevitably drifted to him. You imagined what it would be like to be close to Spencer, to feel his warmth, his touch. The thought made you smile and sigh at the same time. You decided that tonight could be different.

Maybe it was time to break down the barriers and see what lay beyond the furtive glances and accidental brushes.

You stood up from your desk and walked to the section of the office where Spencer was working. He looked up at the sound of your footsteps, and his eyes met yours. The spark in his gaze gave you the courage you needed to move forward.

“Hey, Spence,” you said, trying to keep your voice calm as your heart pounded. “You staying late too?”

“Yeah,” he replied, with a smile that made your knees weak a little. “I’m just finishing up going over some cases. How about you?”

“Same here,” you lied lightly, feeling your true intentions reflected in your eyes. “I thought I’d take a break and check on you.”

The conversation flowed naturally, but the tension between you was palpable. Every word, every gesture, seemed to be laden with deeper meaning. When you both realized the office was completely empty, the atmosphere changed. Spencer leaned a little closer to you, and you responded by moving closer as well.

“I’ve always felt like there’s something between us,” you murmured, your eyes locked with his. “Something that goes beyond simple friendship.” Spencer nodded, his expression serious but filled with emotion.

“I’ve felt it too,” he confessed. “But I never knew if you felt the same.”

Without thinking, you moved closer and took his hand. “So what do we do about it?”

Spencer didn’t respond with words. Instead, he gently led you towards one of the empty offices. He closed the door behind you, creating a small haven of privacy in the middle of the vast building.

The room was dark, lit only by the dim light coming in from the hallway. Spencer looked at you with an intensity you had never seen before. His hands found your face, and his lips landed on yours in a kiss that was gentle at first, but soon became more passionate and urgent.

Your hands slid down his back, feeling the firmness of his muscles beneath his shirt. Spencer responded with equal intensity, his fingers tracing patterns on your skin, sending waves of pleasure through your body. You found yourself lost in the feeling of being so close to him, of feeling every beat of his heart against yours.

The kiss broke briefly, and Spencer looked at you with a mix of desire and tenderness. “I’ve wanted you for so long,” he murmured, his voice husky with emotion.

“Me too,” you replied, before pulling him back to you.

Clothes quickly came undone, each item of clothing falling to the floor in deliberate oblivion. The touch of his skin against yours was electrifying, every caress, every kiss, igniting a fire inside you that you didn't know existed. Spencer's hands explored your body with a mix of urgency and gentleness, as if he were discovering a hidden treasure.

His fingers found the clasp of your blouse, sliding it down deftly. You felt his breathing quicken as did yours. You helped yourself to get rid of Spencer's shirt, revealing his firm, sculpted torso. Your hands ran over his chest, enjoying the feel of his skin under your fingers.

Spencer led you to the office couch, and gently laid you down, placing himself on top of you. His hands explored every corner of your body, from your neck to your hips, and your sighs mixed with his in a symphony of desire. Every movement, every touch, was a declaration of love and desire, a testament to the deep connection you shared.

“This is more than I ever imagined,” you murmured, feeling the pleasure build with each caress.

“I know,” Spencer replied, his eyes filled with adoration as he looked at you. “This is just the beginning.”

His lips trailed down your neck, leaving a trail of heated kisses in their wake. His tongue traced circles over your skin, sending shivers of pleasure along your spine. When his lips found the edge of your bra, Spencer paused, looking up at you with a silent question in his eyes.

You nodded, giving him permission to continue. In one deft move, Spencer unclasped your bra, freeing your breasts. His lips found one of your nipples, sucking and licking until a moan escaped your lips. Meanwhile, his hands continued to explore your body, sliding down your sides and down to your thighs.

Your hands tangled in his hair, tugging gently as he continued to torture you with his mouth. Every lick, every soft bite, sent waves of pleasure straight to your core. You could feel the wetness pooling between your legs, desire burning inside you with an intensity you had never experienced.

Spencer moved down, his lips trailing kisses from your breasts to your belly. He paused briefly to unbutton your pants, sliding them and your panties down your legs. You found yourself completely naked under his intense gaze, vulnerable yet aroused for what was to come.

His lips found the inside of your thighs, kissing them softly before moving to your center. When his tongue finally made contact with your clit, a cry of pleasure escaped your lips. Spencer alternated between licking and sucking, bringing you to the edge again and again without letting you fall.

“Please, Spencer,” you begged, desperately needing more.

He looked up, his eyes dark and filled with desire.

“I want you to enjoy every second of this,” he said, his voice husky and laden with passion.

With those words, he slid up, aligning his erection with your entrance. He looked at you once more, seeking confirmation. You nodded, and he thrust slowly, filling you completely. The feeling of him inside you was overwhelming, a mix of pain and pleasure that left you breathless.

Spencer began to move, his thrusts slow and deep at first. You could feel every inch of his length, each thrust sending waves of pleasure through your body. Your nails dug into his back, your moans filling the room as he increased the pace.

“You feel so good,” he murmured, his voice cracking with effort. “I’ve never felt anything like this before.”

“Me neither,” you replied, your voice barely a whisper. “Don’t stop, Spencer.”

His movements became faster and stronger, each thrust bringing you closer to climax. You could feel the heat building in your belly, a delicious tension threatening to boil over at any moment. Spencer leaned into you, his lips finding yours in a hungry, desperate kiss.

When you finally reached orgasm, your body arched beneath him, a cry of pleasure tearing through your lips. Spencer kept thrusting, bringing you to a second climax before letting go, his own orgasm exploding inside you.

You both collapsed onto the couch, breathing heavily as you tried to recover. Spencer held you close, his hands gently caressing your back as you rested your head on his chest.

“That was amazing,” you murmured, your lips brushing against his skin

“Yes, it was,” he replied, his voice filled with satisfaction. “I love you.”

"I love you too spence,” you said, feeling overwhelming happiness knowing that you had found something truly special.

You stood there for a while, enjoying the closeness and newfound intimacy. You knew this would change everything, but you were both ready to face whatever came. Spencer looked at you with a satisfied smile and you smiled back, feeling a happiness you had never experienced before.

“I think we should head back before someone misses us,” he finally said, with a soft laugh.

“Yeah,” you replied, though a part of you wanted to stay there forever. You quickly dressed, adjusting your clothes and hair before leaving the empty office. As you returned to the main area, a few coworkers glanced at you curiously, but no one said anything. The spark in your eyes was enough to make everyone understand that something significant had happened.

The next few days were filled with knowing glances and secret smiles. The connection between you had deepened, and though you tried to remain professional, it was hard not to let your feelings seep into every interaction.

One night, after a particularly long meeting, Spencer invited you over to his house for dinner. You eagerly accepted, knowing that this would be another chance to explore your relationship.

The dinner was intimate and relaxed. You talked about everything and nothing, enjoying each other’s company without the pressures of work. After dinner, you sat down on the couch, and Spencer pulled you close to him.

“I love you,” he said, his words filled with sincerity and emotion.

“I love you too,” you replied, feeling your heart fill with indescribable joy.

The kiss that followed was slow and deep, filled with the promise of a future together. Spencer led you to his bedroom, and that night, you gave yourselves over to pleasure and love again, knowing you had found something truly special.

Over time, your relationship grew stronger. You learned to balance work and personal life, finding ways to support each other both professionally and personally. The team noticed the change, but everyone stood by you, knowing you had found something rare and beautiful.

Every day with Spencer was a new adventure, a chance to discover more about him and yourself. The passion and connection you shared never waned, and together, you faced every challenge that came your way.

And so, what began as a silent attraction in an empty office turned into an epic love story, one that neither of you had anticipated but one you both embraced with your entire being.

your reblogs and replies are always appreciated dearly☆

#dr spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid one shot #spencer reid smut #spencer reid #spencer reid fic #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid x you #criminal minds #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds imagine

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anantaru · 1 year

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DAY 3 — BIMBOFICATION

kinktober 2023. — masterlist | ao3

kink. bimbofication — the process of transforming into an airheaded slut, perfectly happy to be used and degraded

𖧡 — including — ayato, childe

𖧡 — warnings — fem! reader, bimbofication, degrading, rough & messy, slight possessive reader but only a little + they're possessive of you too lmao, name calling (fucktoy, bitch in heat, cocksleeve), petnames (angel, baby), both parties are consenting

𖧡 — AYATO

"angel.. my precious angel."

ayato slips a finger inside you, the dark outline of his silhouette mountainous on top of you, holding you captive, and he doesn't do anything besides gnashing on your jawline, until listlessly working his way down to your neck, taking your breath away when he glides the digit in and out effortlessly, then adding the second, gently working himself on your hole, imprinting his touch and trails on your walls, watching eagerly how you're engulfing him in with your cunt.

without any resistance making itself visible from your side, you appear to be enjoying this, a little too much— at the same time, you're such an adorable, precious toy to him, always clinging yourself around his arm whenever he was in near sight of you, your smirking lips puckered up into a dirty smile with a glossy film of sparkly lipgloss sleeving the flesh, day-dreaming about having the yashiro commissioner's heavy, piercing cock jamming your insides.

in any case, with how quick things were proceeding now, you love how the heel of his palm repeatedly humps your clit, the blows of it stinging at the puffy flesh before you arch your back into his hand, giggling within a clouded sigh, you're so excited to have his attention, grinning from ear to ear.

the drive ayato had on you, controlling, delightful trembles inching over the length of your spine when he calls you his precious, perfect fucktoy— the only one, you made sure of that.

when he tells you how utterly proud he was of you taking him so very well, especially when he can witness your eyes rolling back at the second of your cunt becoming so warm and constricting, it brings you to tears when listening to such loving words, being praised in such, "unique" way, where one might say it's not praise in any way, but for you, it's nothing but the most sugary, most tasteful expressing of approval to you.

it's easy once you gave yourself over to him, meaning his status and his power and made yourself his property, to that of someone being responsible to satiate the mans needs, conquer the aching pain in his groin whenever he was too busy or clocked up to do so himself. and the pleasure he made you experience, fuck, it reached the pit of a forming bubble, when he reaches into your walls with his slender fingers, your cunt clamping at the contract with the whistling in your head placing black dots on your vision.

yes, certainly— you realize then, you wanted to be treated like that.

forgetting about what others may whisper and gossip behind your back, why would you care, they might be just jealous for all you know— and for whatever reason ayato keeps you close to him, if there was a somewhat, deeper, connection or emotion he began to develop for you— baring in mind that he was the exact opposite of an outgoing player that pursued any women, only having you to touch and trace, fuck and kiss, it could possibly happen that somewhere in between his puzzling, swishing lines of thinking, kamisato ayato can work up the courage to feel something serious in regards to you, something contrasting to viewing you as this convenient toy, his darling cocksleeve, always there for his immediate use.

𖧡 — CHILDE

childe shushes your helpless mewls softly when he laps his tongue around the warm insides of your mouth, his cock taking advantage of your soft, weeping pussy, and how you're proudly presenting it all to him— just for him, you're his, in all respects, and he has trained you well, looking at how your toes curl when you greet him with a hazy, beclouded grin as you vibrate at his shaft moving along your soaked walls before pressing his tip against your g-spot.

"ohh- my, baby." childe groans, lecherous eyes gazing at your erotic body, "you're so good to me, when you let me fuck you like a bitch in heat." and he dominantly holds you up by your trembling knees, parting your pussy to accommodate the thudding stir of his length splitting you without a single care in this world, and every time he pulls himself balls deep into your hole, you gush and slick him up, making a mess of his girth and upper thighs, whimpering all wetly and perceiving how your cheeks are not only stained by your tears, but also flustered by his unique, scandalous choice of words.

but you wanted it that way, truly, being a harbingers personal belong, his little plaything you may say, as he liked to address you as well, it was intoxicating to be as slutty as possible to get his attention.

you can't help yourself but giggle out bubbly whenever he buys you something special too, an expensive gift— handled with delicate, tactful care, opening the package to find a silken lingerie-set that childe had personally picked out for you, barely awaiting the day where he can rip it off your perfect body, assuring you he'll purchase a new one in no time.

how come, you aren't even more riled up by now? your pretty pussy was so reactive to his length, easily affected by the largeness of his girth parting you for good, you're wet all day from the constant day dreams, drooling about childe's cock all day long, or about his hands grabbing and massaging your soft skin, how you knew how much he liked whenever you presented your exposed tits to him, vigorously massaging the nipples before pressing them against his chest.

"you feel good, hm?" ajax whispers into your ear, on the teetering edge of filling your womb with his seed, rolling his strong hips in and out of you before curving one palm around your cheek to force you to meet his gaze— yet your eyes were barely open, but that smile, it made him both shiver and admire your beauty, an expression so radiant on your lips that it startled even a harbinger.

"fuck, you're a mess." he licks his lips, and you foggily nod your head when he voices it out loud, helplessly hiccuping his name whilst grabbing on his chest to make him cling onto you and never let you go, well, not until he made you cum— your pussy being pillowed over by his cock bulging into you, indulging in the sensation of your soft, doused cunt slapping back against his groin, all wanting and desperate.

in spite of appearance, childe was aware that you were precisely into this manner of being treating, but in a sense, so was he, deep down believing that he’d never feel any satisfaction that could even scratch on the one you placed on him.

#genshin x reader #genshin smut #genshin impact smut #genshin impact x reader #ayato x reader #ayato smut #childe smut #childe x reader #genshin drabbles #genshin impact drabbles #kinktober #genshin x you #genshin impact x you #tartaglia x reader #kamisato ayato smut #kamisato ayato x reader #tartaglia smut

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ohnoitstbskyen · 7 months

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I know it would probably bring a lot of hate comments but I am begging you to roast the hazbin character designs because I'd love to have someone properly articulate why they don't work so I could send it to people who won't believe me when I tell them. 🫠 Understandable if you don't want to get into it though.

I don't think there's that much there to roast, honestly?

Those designs are clearly an extremely specific stylistic choice, and because that style is consistent throughout the show, it ultimately feels coherent with itself.

There are trade-offs being made. Because Hazbin's design style is SO stylized and so heavy on decoration and detailing, because it puts a lot of emphasis on costuming, it isn't as good at communicating specific character storytelling as a more grounded style could be (it's kind of the same tradeoff that stuff like Genshin Impact makes).

Like, why does Sir Pentious' hat have an eye and a mouth on it that makes its own expressions? Apparently not for very much reason at all, except that Pentious has a bit of an eyes-motif going on in his design and it was one more place to put an extra eye. And that's a valid criticism of his design, but also the entire show is designed like that, so frankly it would be weirder and more out of place if his design alone didn't have that kind of overelaborate decoration going on.

It does create a situation where I have a hard time "reading" the character designs sometimes. For example, Vox, Alastor and Pentious all wear a similar style of suit with upwards-turned shoulders, butterflies and pinstripes. Now, am I meant to read that as Vox imitating Alastor due to his crippling need to replace and outdo him, and Pentious imitating the style of powerful Overlords because he thinks that possessing their level of power will finally give him relief from his paranoia and self-loathing?

Or is it just a design fixation of the creator who keeps putting their characters in suits because that's just what they like? I can't really be sure, because sometimes design elements are used to intentionally tell stories about how characters relate to themselves, their world and one another, but plenty of other times designs look the way they do Because Of Vibes.

But again, that lack of clarity is clearly an intentional trade-off - and the benefit of that trade-off is a design style that is extremely varied, wild, expressive and memorable. Hazbin Hotel seems like a very easy show to draw fanart of, and a very fun show to draw fanart of. Those designs (especially the hyper-expressive faces) are begging to be the subjects of traumatic headcanons, unbearably cotton-candy soft fluff fantasies and weird, taboo, homoerotic power dynamics. Slaps roof of character design, this bad boy can express so much vicarious emotional intensity.

It's very exuberant, very excited about itself and very self-indulgent, it's a style that prioritizes visual impact and visual interest over readability (something which the animators of the show navigate with real skill, props to them) and individual aesthetics over worldbuilding.

And I don't blame anyone for being turned off by that (I certainly was the first time I started seeing those designs going around), but I would struggle to call the show's designs "bad" when they are clearly achieving exactly what they want to achieve.

I have some criticisms, especially re: how the show treats skinny bodies as an unquestioned, desirable default, and employs fatness as a means of alienating and abjecting the audience. That sucks very badly, and is a serious disappointment, and one of the few places where the show feels like it is being cowardly in its design philosophy. But I don't have it in me to do some kind of Hazbin Hotel Sucks And Here's Why takedown, its problems are not unique or extreme enough to warrant it, at least not as I currently understand them.

#tb answers #hazbin hotel #character design

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arguablysomaya · 10 months

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Nightwing's weird fem-coding

! LONG POST !

Finally got around to jotting down my thoughts on the weird way that Dick Grayson (Nightwing) often occupies female-coded roles without being a particularly feminine guy. This is entirely due to me procrastinating on my finals. Okay!

Dick has often been cited as the hero who plays into the "female gaze", and he takes up some key roles that are typically reserved for women characters.

A large portion of Dick's fem-coding is contingent on his being with his family, and when he's not with them, this fem-coding kinda drops away, such as when he's with his various teams or acting solo.

His most prominent (and imo, complex) femme-coded role is:

-> Eldest Daughter + Widow

Eldest daughter syndrome means " frequently feeling like you’re not doing enough, like you’re struggling to maintain a veneer of control, like the entire household relies on your diligence." It's born out of the unique way that first-born girls are expected to take on adult roles around the household before they've had an opportunity to fully experience childhood (an opportunity their younger siblings will have, in part due to this sacrifice). It creates a strong sense of independence and a desire to be a good role model, but also leads to undue pressure and perfectionism.

Dick acts as a central emotional pillar for those in his family. To the point that when he fakes his death, it breaks something fundamental in the family dynamic:

Not only is it repeatedly made clear that Bruce depends on Dick to act as a lifeline for his own mental struggles, but moreover, his siblings do as well. In a very literal sense, the maintenance of the batfamily rests on Dick's shoulders. Bruce is so rarely available for emotional support that these children turn to the next best thing, which, to be fair, is better than what Dick had growing up. He has to clean up so many breakdowns, it's honestly pretty staggering.

As the OG sidekick, Dick receives quite a bit of hero worship, particularly from younger heroes/sidekicks, who look toward him for guidance. As a naturally upbeat and welcoming person, Dick ends up in the position of bringing light to everyone, not just Bruce. For example, here's Cassandra:

This balancing effect is unique to Dick's skill set. However, this can (and does) backfire very easily. The same pragmatism Bruce engages in hurts extra bad when coming from Dick: like when Dick had to take Robin away from Tim. Not to mention just how intimidating Dick's legacy is, which can create resentment when his successors aren't able to play this role so easily. For example, Jason both before and after his death expressed insecurity that he felt he was constantly being compared to Dick, and falling short.

As the original character that people think of when they think "sidekick", DG Robin (and his successors) had the advantage of not losing prominence even as his contemporaries (Kid Flash, Aqualad, Wonder Girl, etc.) were de-prioritized in favor of independent teenaged heroes (like Cyborg, Beast Boy, Raven, and Starfire). But that means Robin as a concept now has to deal with questions that weren't so prominent in the earlier decades, such as: "How do we justify a grown-ass man using a child (and in fact, children) as emotional crutches?"

It's icky to think about, but there's no denying that early Batman and Robin got side eyes for homosexual subtext. I mean, they literally call each other "partners". So while that "subtext" was, and remains, just audience speculation, given Dick is literally Bruce's adopted son, there is room, I believe, to call into question how healthy it is for Bruce's oldest kid to be taking on a nearly-parental role and be a core pillar of Bruce's emotional regulation.

Hot take here, but I think Dick's relationship with Bruce was/has been pretty emotionally incestuous for a long time.

-> Emotional incest

"Emotional incest[...] is a type of emotional abuse performed by a parent. In cases of emotional incest, parents rely on their children for significant emotional support, which is a reversal of roles. Emotional incest is more than just relying on your kids on occasion—rather, it is an extreme dependence on them." (There's a pretty good argument to be made that Bruce has been emotionally incestuous with all his Robins, especially Dick and DEFINITELY Tim, but y'know. Small steps.)

Emotional incest is a semi-common consequence of eldest daughter syndrome; the natural conclusion of deputizing a child to manage the other children combining with an inability to see the child as a child, still in need of emotional guidance, but more like an adult capable of shouldering the burdens of grown-ups dumping their traumas on them.

To be clear here, while emotional incest may not be incest in the most traditional, taboo sense, it is still abuse. It's putting a burden on a child they shouldn't have to carry, even for children that aren't dealing with such extreme burdens as "grown-ass man running around in a fursuit needs me to keep him from getting himself killed". It's a perversion of a healthy parent-child relationship, where the child is treated more like a partner than a child. In Dick's case, it further exacerbates the parentification he already experiences. This is made more explicit when Bruce "dies" and Dick is cast into a sort of "Widow" role.

Dick reluctantly dons the cowl in an attempt to bring order to his family members. He's also left to parent Damian, alone. He has to make the decision to take Robin from Tim, and try to deal with the fallout from that decision. He has to put a stop to Jason's fratricidal rampage. He's made into the de-facto head of the family.

And the thing about this is: Dick's not even bad at it. In comparison to Bruce's litany of disasters-in-parenting, Dick does a pretty bang-up job of managing his siblings, heading the Justice League, and being Batman. But the crucial point is that he does this at the expense of his own mental health, which is the crux of eldest daughter syndrome. There's no denying that at the time, Dick was most certainly the best choice for New Father Figure, but it was a choice he was pushed into, and a sacrifice he had to make. When this sense of responsibility to the point of self-sacrifice is pushed to its logical conclusion, it has the effect of making Dick a Martyr-type figure.

-> Protector/Mama Bear/Avenger

Dick has shown repeatedly that his hot button is his family. From Tony Zucco to allowing Blockbuster to be killed after the villain targeted Haley's Circus, going after Nightwing's family is a pretty good way to earn yourself an asskicking. Probably the most infamous example of this is when Dick thought the Joker had killed Tim, beating the clown to death to avenge both Tim and Jason.

And while this role isn't particularly feminine, I do think it's interesting that Dick protects his family members from each other with almost the same frequency that he protects them from outside threats. He's pretty notorious for wrangling Damian and Tim, foiling Jason's murder plans, and most importantly, beating the shit out of Bruce whenever he crosses a line, such as when Bruce asks Dick to conceal being alive from their family to join Spyral or when Bruce wanted to abandon the Bruce Wayne persona after the murder of Vesper Fairchild. Or of course, more recently after Bruce's latest MK-ULTRA shenanigans.

This basically puts Dick in the position of being the glue that holds the family together, at basically all times, but especially in times of conflict. This also means he's put in the dangerous position of bodily defending his younger siblings from Bruce's wrath or irresponsibility, a position made even more awkward given the whole emotional incest thing.

That's not to say that Dick's relationship with his family is 100% unhealthy. Dick and his family members (including Bruce!) feel legitimate affection and care for each other. There are times when the dynamics here are indeed healthy. And like most people with eldest daughter syndrome, the unhealthy nature of this dynamic is usually understated. Oldest sibling syndrome is often just an unavoidable consequence of how parenting works. So while I am of the opinion that this dynamic is often unhealthy, hot take: I'm fine with that.

Now, though I've just listed some tropes that he only falls into around family, Dick also falls into some fem-coding all the time, regardless of who he's with, and these have to do mostly with his sexuality.

-> Sexual Assault & Harassment

Yeah, so nobody is surprised that this is a factor. Look up any list of the top ten hottest/sexiest/most attractive male superheroes, I guarantee 9/10 times Nightwing is number 1. However, unlike his father, whose attractiveness is usually played as a part of the male wish-fulfillment fantasy, something people aspire to be, Dick's attractiveness more often makes him an object of desire- very similar to how most attractive female characters are perceived.

And as an object of desire, Dick Grayson is constantly having to deal with being objectified.

Now, Dick Grayson being an attractive character is not the problem. Dick Grayson being sexually assaulted isn't even the problem. the problem is that he keeps being harassed, assaulted, and raped in ways that are flagrantly nonconsensual, and yet it's not treated with the seriousness it deserves. In fact, it took a full decade for Devin Grayson to retract her previous statement and admit that yes, the rooftop scene with Catalina Flores was in fact rape, and it's never been acknowledged in-universe (though, comics have always been atrocious at calling out sexual abuse of all kinds, let alone that which targets men).

Hell, even when he in-universe calls it out, he's dismissed immediately and the story continues like nothing happened.

Like???

Dick's adult sexcapades (which were consensual and enthusiastic) have long contrasted with the numerous times he's been harassed; times in which he comes across as bored, exasperated, and even frustrated with his own attractiveness and the vulnerable position it often leaves him in.

This puts him in the rare (in comics) position of being a male character who consistently and near-exclusively has his sexual agency and boundaries violated by women - a position that authors uniformly refuse to examine despite writing him into it all the fucking time.

Other characters around him frequently make comments passing off this harassment and assault as a natural consequence of Dick's own attractiveness, making "jokes" that essentially amount to "I understand why someone would want to assault him". Which- UH?

There is also, of course, the unavoidable reality that as an acrobat and an aerialist, he receives a very specific type of sexual harassment

the nature of nightwing's fight style necessitates a type of tight-fitting suit that male heroes typically don't go for: an extremely slick suit with bare-minimum armour that again, makes him vulnerable in a way most male heroes aren't, but a style female heroes wear all the time, whether it makes sense for them or not. This of course then allows artists to draw attention to this fact by posing Nightwing in poses usually reserved for femme fatales:

And unlike the Hawkeye Initiative, these poses are (largely) unironic, and not played for jokes. Dick isn't arching his back or looking over his shoulder to poke fun at how female heroes are treated; he does so because the artist (clearly correctly) sincerely believed these poses would play into the unironic gaze of the audience, and also probably thought it was hot. It's the same line of thought artists use when posing femme fatales.

He's even been known to use his sexuality as a bargaining chip, much like more traditional Femme Fatales. In Batman and Harley Quinn (2017), he refers to sleeping with Harley Quinn after being kidnapped by her as one of "the things I do for Gotham", to which she responds "I'm taking that as a 'yes'." And that's uh- not how consent works.

And this particularly sucks because- HELLO? The opportunity to explore the very real and tragically underacknowledged phenomenon of sexual violence against men is literally invaluable, especially with such a prominent character. It's one thing to ignore that men face sexual violence, it's another, entirely more unforgivable thing to continuously and explicitly depict such scenarios and play them off as jokes or not as serious as they clearly are. But what did I expect from an industry that has never had a good track record on sexual violence anyway.

-> Queercoding?

There's also of course the fact that DC has been, as of late, dropping hints that Dick might be bisexual.

That on it's own doesn't mean anything, but when paired with the fact that DC has been angling toward giving Dick a similar playboy persona that Bruce has, just with men included, it's just very interesting.

(BTW: The likelihood DC actually commits to making Dick bi is, uh, not a lot, but if they're gonna stick with this weird closet stuff for a while, let's hope they do so in a way that doesn't make him sound like a cross between Donald Trump and Harry Styles next time? Please?)

Anyway, all of this is basically to say I am forever fascinated by the gender dynamics of Dick Grayson, likely due to the fact that I'm projecting all my eldest daughter traumas onto him, and that someone who's background is in Gender Studies needs to get on this shit if they haven't already. I just love this character sm.

#this ended up taking/being way longer than I thought it would #but its done now so i can stop procrastinating yayyyy #shut up somaya #batfam #dcu #dc universe #batfamily #batman #dick grayson #nightwing

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irisintheafterglow · 1 year

Text

Parley? (opla!zoro x you)

summary: a stranger arrives to disturb your peace and you have no choice but to negotiate with him.

wc: 2.57k

cw/tags: first meeting, swearing, mentions of canon-typical violence including blood and swords, zoro doesn't know how to express his feelings

note: i'm so nervous posting this ngl because i really like zoro as a character but i'm scared that i'm not gonna do him justice since i don't know him as well as gojo or geto or bakugo etc etc etc. hopefully all yall zoro girlies like this because i've been itching to write for him since my explore page became nothing but mackenyu. enjoy!

likes, reblogs, and replies are always appreciated <3

You hear the chimes first. The melody is soft, nearly imperceptible to the untrained ear, but you sense it. After all, you were the one who tied the string under the walkway floorboards in such a way that the bells above your window would clink if something pressed down on the wood. Over time, you learned to identify where outside was being pushed based on more strings and bells. It made it easier to find the Lady, on the rare occasion she stepped into open air and you weren’t with her. However, whoever was now setting off your makeshift alarm system had footsteps unlike the usual occupants of the house. The quietness of the notes was unsettling, in a way, because it meant they were creeping around the house. Someone didn’t want to be heard.

It was the flowers next, the roses with uniquely reflective petals that were especially good at bouncing moonlight precisely through your window. The Lady commented one day in the market that she’d taken a liking to that particular flower, and you bought the vendor’s entire stock to plant around the house once you realized how it could be used. Not before you built a crow’s nest-like window, first. The glass structure jut out of the house in just the right way that you received colors from the left, right, and front of the house. Had an intruder approached from the back, your only blindspot, you would hear the more insistent clicks of the typewriter keys attached to the outside deck panels. The nearly noiseless bells and the ominous shadow sneaking across your wall were enough to snap you wide awake.

The soles of your feet meet cool stone as you slide from under the covers, wrapping the sheath of your saber around your waist and slipping out of your bedroom. Despite the darkness of the hallway, your legs move by memory to the Lady’s chambers only to find the door already ajar.

Shit. Were you too late?

Slinking into the room in one graceful stride, words leave your mouth without thinking when you see him standing over your Lady, holding two deadly-looking swords.

“Taking a life halfway gone is immoral no matter the bounty, pirate hunter.” His head snaps in your direction and you have your blade on him before he can blink, resting the point lightly but threateningly against his throat. His eyes narrow on you challengingly and you put ever so slightly more pressure into your hilt, forcing him to surrender and sheath both swords. The third, you note, remains undrawn on his hip. “No better targets to pursue than a retiree? I expected better from the demon of the East Blue.” His gaze remains unchanging while you step forward, inching him backward until his head hits the wall with a soft thud. You were thankful, for once, that the Lady was starting to lose her hearing and was always a deep sleeper.

“She’s wanted,” he says in a low tone.

“She’s withered,” you retort. “Killing her advances justice no more than leaving her alive.” His face is still unreadable, void of any emotions just as the rumors conveyed. Many tales circulated of the infamous pirate hunter, but you chose to believe the Lady to be far too irrelevant to pose any real threat to the Marines. As one of the last known powerhouses of the Gold Roger era, it was more likely her wanted poster would be drowned out amongst younger hotshot pirates than for her to become an actual target. And yet, here was the most feared bounty hunter in the seas, hunting down a myth that many assumed was already six feet under. And for what, fun?

“It doesn’t matter. Honor is a courtesy denied to killers.” He speaks in a way like you wouldn’t understand his ideas, and it sends a white-hot flash of anger racing through your veins.

“Ooh, yes. You’re being so honorable by julienning a defenseless old woman while she sleeps.” To your surprise, he flinches, unwillingly bringing your eyes to corded muscle and flexed biceps. It’s a bit of a struggle to refocus on the task at hand. “Enlighten me on how this makes you feel vindicated.”

“I kill pirates for a living,” he states simply, nodding over to the slumbering mass under the thick comforter. The tip of your sword follows every movement he makes, careful not to give him an opening to strike. Unexpectedly, he seems almost relaxed, like the weapon at his throat was the least of his worries. “That woman is a pirate.”

“That woman was a pirate. She is no longer the ‘Captain Indigo’ you seek.”

“Who is she now, then?”

“Lady Lavender, adored by her constituents and far removed from a life of piracy. If I weren’t on the verge of spilling your organs on the carpet, I’d say visit the farmer’s market on Tuesdays. You’ll see just how different her life is now.” His chin tilts in disagreement.

“The Marines say otherwise.”

“What do you say?” A minute tilt of your wrist angles your saber so that the point now resides under his sharply defined jawline. “Hmm, hunter? Any opinions in that thick skull of yours or are you just another mindless government weapon?”

“You understand nothing,” he mutters like an indignant teenager, looking off to the side woefully. It makes your blood boil.

“Try me,” you snarl at the green-haired stranger. In another life, you’d have thought him pretty handsome, if you weren’t so infuriated by his indifferent sense of justice. He knew nothing about you, or the Lady, or what either of you had to endure to create a sense of safety. Safety, you would add, that you weren’t going to give up easily.

“This woman you serve, what are you to her? A caretaker? A child?”

“A friend,” you answer cautiously. “Something your line of work would know nothing about.”

“The Marines know that your friend murdered the former governor and seized the island in an act of desperation,” he informs you with a note of condescension. “They’ve wanted her gone for ten years, and I am here to collect her head. It’s not personal; it’s business.” The incorrectness of his information is laughable, but what concerns you more is the ease with which he talks of taking lives.

“You don’t feel any sort of remorse for the targets you kill?” The anger in your stomach starts to rub against a different, unwanted influx of sorrow. After witnessing the change in a ruthless pirate empress, you refused to believe a human could be this heartless.

“I don’t dwell on them long enough to care. Most of the time, they do something stupid that makes it a little easier to dispose of them.”

“And that’s where you’re wrong about her,” you recover, pressing the blade against his skin on the brink of drawing blood. He winces, squirming against the wallpaper for some sort of relief. You don’t budge. “The former mayor was a half-brother whom she reconnected with after Gold Roger’s execution. His death was caused by a misdosage of medicine used to treat hemorrhoids he’d suffered with since he was twenty. On his deathbed, he made her promise to take care of this city...” You inhale, focusing on the man in front of you. His expression is soft, nothing like you would have expected from a feared killer-for-hire. He was actually listening to you.

“Go on.”

“And to take care of me. I have the great pirate hunter at the end of my blade, so she must not have done that bad of a job at either request.” He’s silent for a moment and you watch the cogs turn in his brain, hoping he’d find some humanity and realize that killing the Lady isn’t just pointless, it’s fundamentally wrong.

“It doesn’t change the fact that I need money.” Nevermind, then. Backup plan it is.

“I understand that,” you concede, and you remove your weapon from his neck. His hands are on the hilts of his swords instantly, but he doesn’t draw them. He could kill both you and the Lady in a single swing, but he doesn’t. Maybe you did reach a different side of him. “That's why I’m willing to cut you a deal.”

“I don’t make deals with pirat–” he starts, but abruptly cuts himself off when you raise your eyebrows in expectation. Did you not learn anything from what I just told you? His face contorts in confusion, as if his mind was at odds with what his body was telling him to do. After carefully schooling his expression into blankness, he stands to his full height, rolling a broad shoulder. “What’s the deal?”

“You’re aware of the Blue Ringed crew, yes?”

“Famous for their poisons, I’ve heard,” he confirms and you nod. “They cover every inch of their ship in toxins and wear special clothing to prevent contact with their skin. Makes it hard to sneak up on them.”

“Exactly. See, you’re not as uneducated as you look,” you tease and you feel your face heat when he sticks his tongue out at you. It’s so boyish and immature, in stark contrast to the handsome, god-bodied man that faces you. “I happen to have a counteragent, enough for you to get on their ship and collect three times the amount if you killed us tonight.”

“And what would you get in return?”

“The sound of your boots walking off the property and never returning,” you whisper a little desperately, pleading with him to leave your perfect peace intact and forget this altercation ever happened. The quiet in the room as he ponders your offer is suffocating save for the gentle snores of Lady Lavender. Eventually, he takes your deal, inspecting the powder-filled vial when you bring it to him on the front porch.

“How do I use it if it’s powder?”

“Mix it with lotion to help soak it faster into your skin. When your skin is dry, you’ll have roughly an hour to navigate the boat completely immune to the poison. It’s sweat resistant but will wash off with seawater, so take care not to get thrown overboard,” you instruct him, crossing your arms across your chest against the chilly ocean air blowing in from the south. It was breezier than normal and you regret not grabbing a sweater. Unless you wanted to freeze your ass off, you needed to finish this debacle quickly. “Kill the pirates, get your bounty, and leave us the hell alone. Deal?”

“Fine by me.” He carefully places the vial in the pocket of his pants and begins his descent down the front walkway. Before you can turn back into the house, however, his voice reaches your ears so lightly you think you’d hallucinated it. “Stay warm.”

He doesn’t end up keeping his side of the deal. A few days after your initial altercation, he approaches the house again in broad daylight holding a box about the size of your hand. You stare at him in disbelief, reading in the nook of your window and he has the audacity to smirk at you when he spots you looking.

“I thought we had a deal, pirate hunter,” you remind him when you open the front door of the house. It was infuriating how good he looked for having just returned from a pursuit, dressed up in fine fabrics with his hair combed back nicely. The irony was palpable, the situation not unlike the stories the Lady told you about the numerous men who attempted to court her. They appeared at the same front door with flowers, rubies, and promises of devotion, but none of them actually wanted her heart. In contrast, you wanted to stab the heart of the idiot in front of you.

“Stop calling me that,” he frowns and you can’t help the laugh that leaves your mouth. “My name is Roronoa Zoro–”

“Oh, sorry,” you interject and his eyebrows furrow at your lack of manners. “Am I just supposed to act like you’re my friend now? After you tried to kill my boss?”

“I thought we were past that,” he states bluntly.

“That was four days ago.”

“It’s enough time to move on.”

“You’re impossible.” You shake your head in disbelief, slightly puzzled at the giddy feeling in your chest when the faintest smile appears on his face. “What’s that?” You gesture to the rosewood box in his fingers.

“Consider it an apology,” he says, holding out the box for you to take, “for bothering you the other night.”

“How chivalrous.” You eye the box warily, still unsure about the enigmatic bounty hunter before you. “But we don’t need nor want your money.”

“It’s not money. Just open the damn box,” he grunts impatiently and you begrudgingly oblige, sliding back the top panel to reveal a bracelet. It wasn’t like any other bracelet you’d seen before, a gold chain garnished with a single deep green emerald barely the size of your pinky fingernail. It was delicate and elegant, subtle enough not to draw attention but luxurious enough to make you feel spoiled. “Do you like it?”

“I do, actually. The color is pretty,” you reply slowly, still slightly in shock. “Why green?”

“Take a wild guess.” He smirks again and your gaze flicks up to his hair. It was just as vibrant as the gemstone and he watched you carefully as the pieces clicked into place. With the bracelet, you’d be forced to think of him every time you looked at it or anything the color green. What kind of guy buys a momento for almost killing you, you had no idea.

“You didn’t need to bring me this. I thought the deal was–”

“I remember what the deal was, but I felt bad making you stand outside shivering while you explained how the counteragent functioned.” Your eyes widen slightly at his admission. He noticed you reacting to the wind, so how intensely was he watching you that night? If he sees your surprise, he doesn’t comment on it and continues to explain why he brought you the gift in the first place. “The powder worked, by the way. I snagged this from the captain’s chambers on my way out.”

“You stole this because you saw me get cold?” He merely shrugs, clearly unbothered.

“I mean, yeah. You looked miserable.”

“I was miserable.” He smiles slightly again, the corner of his mouth quirking in amusement. It makes your heart stutter against your wishes. “Does this mean we’re even now, pirate hunter?”

“Call me Zoro and maybe I’ll consider it.”

“You’ll consider it?”

“Holding a sword to someone’s throat is a major transgression that can’t be forgiven so easily,” he taunts and you roll your eyes. “Let me start over, meet you properly without the involvement of weapons.”

“You really want to see me again?” He scoffs at your question as if the answer wasn't crystal clear.

“What, bringing you a bracelet wasn’t obvious enough? I’ll have to bring the entire ship next time. Might take a little longer to get back to you.”

“Get off my porch, Roronoa Zoro,” you laugh, reaching out to push his shoulder away and feeling every inch of his skin against your fingers in the brief moment your bodies touch. “Don’t come back unless you have something important to say.”

“I think you’ll soon find out what I prioritize as important.”

#zoro x you #zoro x reader #zoro x y/n #roronoa zoro x you #roronoa zoro x reader #roronoa zoro x y/n #one piece x you #one piece x reader #one piece x y/n #opla x reader #opla x you #opla x y/n #opla!zoro x you #opla!zoro x reader

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awkward-walking-potato · 1 month

Note

Hey, I was wondering if I could request something for Nightcrawler x Reader? I was thinking the reader feels ugly and has been treated unkindly because of it. Then he finds them scrutinizing themself in the mirror on a particularly tough day, after someone calls them ugly to their face, leading to the two of them commiserating and bonding over their experiences of looking different. If you do take my request, could you make it as gender neutral as possible? People of all gender identities know what it's like to not stack up to society's standards.

Reflections

Nightcrawler x Reader

The day had been harsh—one of those days where the world seemed to have it out for you. You had endured the usual snide comments, the sideways glances, and the subtle but unmistakable rejections. But today, it had crossed a line. Someone had called you ugly, straight to your face, with a look of disgust that cut deeper than any insult ever could.

Now, you found yourself alone, standing in front of the mirror, scrutinizing every inch of your appearance. The words echoed in your mind, over and over, until they felt like they were etched into your skin. You stared at your reflection, trying to see what others saw—trying to understand why you were treated like this. Your heart ached with a familiar sadness, the kind that made you feel small, unworthy, and utterly alone.

As you stood there, lost in thought, you heard a soft bamf behind you, followed by the familiar scent of sulfur. You didn’t need to turn around to know who it was.

"Mein Freund..." Kurt’s voice was gentle, filled with concern. You glanced at his reflection in the mirror, his golden eyes watching you with a deep empathy that made your chest tighten.

You didn’t say anything at first, just kept staring at your reflection. Kurt stepped closer, his three-fingered hand resting lightly on your shoulder. "What troubles you?" he asked softly, though you both knew he had already guessed.

You sighed, feeling the weight of the day pressing down on you. "Someone... someone called me ugly today," you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. "And I just... I keep thinking, maybe they're right. Maybe... maybe that’s why people treat me the way they do."

Kurt’s gaze softened, a pained expression crossing his face. He gently turned you to face him, his hand still resting on your shoulder. "Oh, mein Schatz," he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. "I know what it is to feel different, to be judged for how you look. But you are not ugly. You are beautiful, inside and out. And those who cannot see that... they are the ones who are blind."

You looked into his eyes, seeing the sincerity in his words, but the doubt still lingered in your heart. "How can you say that, Kurt? You... you know what it’s like, but you’re... you’re beautiful in your own way. Unique. But me? I’m just... different, and not in a good way."

Kurt’s tail curled slightly behind him, a subtle sign of his discomfort. He knew all too well the pain you were feeling, the sting of rejection and judgment. "I used to think the same," he admitted quietly. "I used to believe that I was cursed, that my appearance made me unworthy of love, of acceptance. But I have learned, over time, that true beauty is not found in the reflection of a mirror, but in the kindness we show, the love we give, the way we treat others."

He paused, searching your eyes. "The world can be cruel," he continued, "and people can be unkind. But you must not let their words define you. You are more than what they see. You are strong, and compassionate, and worthy of love."

You felt a tear slip down your cheek, and Kurt gently wiped it away with his thumb. His touch was warm and comforting, and for the first time that day, you felt a flicker of hope.

"You see this?" Kurt gestured to his own face, his blue fur and pointed ears, his fanged teeth and yellow eyes. "Many have looked at me and seen only a monster. But you—you have never looked at me that way. You have seen me for who I am, not what I appear to be. And that is a gift, a rare and precious gift. Please, give that same kindness to yourself."

You swallowed hard, his words sinking in. Kurt had faced so much in his life, had endured so much pain because of how he looked, yet he had never let it break him. He had found a way to see beauty in himself, and in others, despite everything.

Kurt wrapped his arms around you, pulling you into a gentle hug. "You are not alone," he whispered against your hair. "Not in this. I will always be here, to remind you of the light within you, to help you see what I see. You are not ugly, mein Freund. You are loved, just as you are."

You closed your eyes, leaning into his embrace, letting his words wash over you. For the first time that day, the self-loathing began to fade, replaced by a warmth that you hadn’t felt in a long time. In Kurt’s arms, you felt safe—seen for who you truly were, not just for how you looked.

"Thank you, Kurt," you murmured, your voice thick with emotion. "Thank you for being here, for understanding."

He pulled back just enough to look into your eyes, his golden gaze filled with a deep, unwavering affection. "Always," he said softly. "And whenever you need to talk, or just be reminded of your worth, I will be here. You are never alone in this, mein Schatz."

You nodded, feeling a small smile tug at the corners of your lips. With Kurt by your side, you knew that you could face whatever came your way, no matter how cruel the world could be. Because in his eyes, you were not just someone different—you were someone cherished, someone beautiful.

And maybe, just maybe, you could start to see that in yourself too.

#nightcrawler one shot #nightcrawler imagine #nightcrawler #kurt wagner imagine #kurt Wagner oneshot #kurt wagner x reader #marvel imagine #x men imagine

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wonder-mei · 3 months

Text

His greatest achievement (Honkai:Star Rail’s Dr Veritas Ratio)

失眠者苍 on Weibo

Reminder : I do not write accurately to the lore of the world I am writing. I write whenever there’s an idea

ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ

“Hey, who gave you those roses?” her friend asked curiously as her eyes focuses on the bouquet of red roses wrapped beautifully with cream and dark brown, and tied in cream bow

“Oh, Veritas gave them to me. Beautiful aren't they?” she takes a sniff and shows the bouquet to her friends “They are fresh picked too”

Her friends looked at each other with confused expressions. Doctor Veritas Ratio, one of the geniuses of all mankind. Knowledgeable in many academic fields, not only does he have the brain, he also has achieved a lot of achievements since he was young, surpassing every professor that is decades older. Despite his intellect, Ratio is well-known for being very egotistical and arrogant. Not one of his students ever disagrees with his lecturers or confronts the grades he gave. Because he knows he is RIGHT. Even other professors or staff do not want to mess with him.

But her. She is one of the odds. Ratio never does all of those to her. He is calm and gentle whenever she is around. There were students making a study on this privately as to why she is an exception to his egotistical and arrogant.

And the conclusion is; he is in love with her.

But she is oblivious to this fact.

“Why did Dr Ratio give you roses?”

“Oh he said his roses are overgrown so he gave me them”

“Only you?”

“Yeah, he said he does not have more to give to others”

“Also wrapped perfectly”

“He just wants to use this wrapper he bought. Don’t want to waste”

Each question regarding Ratio’s gifts she would answer them giving reasons as to why he does that but none of them because he loves her after countless of gifts he gave her. From carving a few sets of her favorite animals, buying her books and so more.

“Don’t you think he has a reason for giving you gifts?”

“Not at all. We share an office so it’s normal for officemates to give each other gifts,right?”

Her friends didn’t answer. They just stare at her “Well I have to go. My worms need some feeding”

How could a botanist be paired to share an office with the man of every knowledge in this world? It is fate. Ratio was irritated at first for having an officemate that involves themselves around plants and soil but something about her made him forget his emotions and expectations on her. It all started on that specific day…

“What are you doing?”

“Oh Ratio! You are early today” she greets him with a smile “These are my worms. I’m building a worm farm”

Ratio scowls watching the containers with dirt and few visible worms in the soil “Why are you even doing these dirty projects?”

“Everything! Worms can compose,fertilize and are eco-friendly. Can’t really depend on technology for the compose and chemical for the foods we eat,right? It is time for us to have this old tradition in our daily life”

Ratio just stood there taking her every word into deep analysis. There are already machines for everything. And they make lives easier. Who wants to do the traditional way when it's easier for that. This intrigues him. She piqued his interest. Since then, Ratio would watch her doing her odds stuff. She used all natural color for paints, learned how to speak to birds and so many odd things he can even comprehend. But, he never intervenes or corrects her ways. Her ways are too unique to stop her from doing so.

“Have you seen Ratio?” she asked one of his students when she saw them walking in the same hallway

“Dr Ratio? Nope. He dismissed today class 20 minutes early”

Strange. Ratio always uses the class time duration strictly. Starts when it starts and ends when it ends. He wasn't in their office,maybe he is in his art studio located not far from the university building. She heads to the art studio still holding the bouquet, catching everyone’s attention for how beautiful the roses are.

“Veritas?” She calls his name as she enters the building. No answers. The room was cloaked in shadows, the faint glow of twilight seeping through the half-closed window curtain but the sun shunned a tall figure covered in cloth shielding it to cause curiosity to whoever sees this. She was so inquisitive about the mysterious figure behind it,she pulled down the cloth with a swift.

As the cloth was pulled down, it revealed a beautifully carved sculpture. She stands near to it gazing at every carving trying to make out who is that. Every inch of the figure registered into her mind, every feature is hers. From the hair,eyes,nose,everything even the moles and scars. The person accurately carved her. In this piece, she is wearing a simple one piece dress and a veil. She is sitting on the ground with the texture of grass and soil. There are few birds she recognizes that she studied for communication studies. Next to the sculpture, there’s a note. It says;

She and i has no contrast,

She is the sun and moon,

Whilst i witness her beauty day and night,

From every beauty exist,

I willingly sit to see her only.

Too mesmerized by the art. She was startled when someone called her name “Veritas…”. They were too close. Her back flushes on his chest heading tilting up staring into his eyes “What is this?”

Ratio stares into her eyes for a minute “The carving of my beloved”

“What does that mean?”

The question that would frequently irritate Ratio but from her, nothing can make him get irritated by her “I have achieved and invented something that has given me praises and is well-known for it. But my greatest achievement is falling for you and only us know how my heart yearns for yours. I tried to imitate you in that sculpture but that beauty only you can have”

There it is. No ridiculous reasons for giving her gifts. Ratio confessed his love that he has kept for awhile. He too made a deep depth as to why she can get away any irks he dislikes and why her presence makes his day brighter. It all because

“My love for you is never-ending like the universe”

For now,she does not need to think of oblivious reasons as to why Ratio has gifted her gifts especially when it comes to the question of the sculpture of hers. Why? Because he loves her.

ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ

kinda cringed a lil

#honkai star rail #honkai star rail x reader #dr ratio #veritas ratio #dr ratio x reader #veritas ratio x reader

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dewdropdinosaur · 5 months

Text

Lay All Your Love On Me

ALASTOR X READER X LUCIFER Summary: Insecurity bites harder than one would think in the underworld, and you are no stranger to its sting. However, with two affleunt and attractive boyfriends, you may learn just how beautiful you are. (AKA: My lovely you are beautiful the way you are and these boys wanna show you) Warnings: NSFW/18+ Oral sex/cunnilingus, implied P in V, nipple play, Dom/Sub dynamics, use of names such as "Daddy"/"Ducky" in sexual context, restraints, SMUT Only my second time writting smut so...sorry Requested by @boogiewoog Requests OPEN

In the vibrant, chaotic realm of Hell, where redemption seemed like a distant dream, a unique bond blossomed among three unlikely souls - Alastor, Lucifer, and Y/N. Alastor, the radio demon with a twisted sense of humor, Lucifer, the suave and sophisticated ruler of Hell, and Y/N, a human soul, whose presence brought light to the darkest corners of their world. Nothing could ever compare the joy that Y/N had awoken within the two demons, loving them both equally proved no challenge for her bright soul. With her love and guidance, the relationship bloomed and soon all three parties fell head over hooves in love with each other. From dates in Alastor’s radio tower, to Lulu Land, or helping Y/N work around the kitchen; Hell seemed like Heaven.

However, not everything was sunshine and rubber ducks. At least for Y/N. One evening, as the crimson sky draped over the cityscape of Hell, Y/N found herself consumed by her own insecurities. She sat alone in her room, the flickering candlelight casting shadows across the space. Her fingers traced the scars and imperfections on her skin, each one a reminder to herself that even in death, she couldn’t look how other people did. Dating one handsome and affluent demon was one thing, but two was another all together. What if she wasn’t good enough for them, what if someone else came along? What if Lillith came back, heaven forbid, Y/N just knew Lucifer would leave her in the dust the second that demoness walked through the doors., Y/N couldn't shake the nagging whispers of doubt that plagued her mind, centered around her own insecurities about her body. She just couldn't help but scrutinize every curve and contour of her form. The voices of doubt echoed in her mind, taunting her with their cruel words, as she fought to hold back tears.

Just then, a gentle knock sounded at the door, and in walked Alastor, his signature grin brightening the room like a ray of sunshine. Beside him stood Lucifer, his elated gaze filled with slight concern as he took in Y/N's troubled expression.

“Ducky, we just came to get you for dinner! Al made a real nice…something. What did you say was in it again?”

“It’s just jambalaya, I promise all normal ingredients. Why don’t you join us darling?”

“That’s alright, guys. I think I’m not super hungry right now.” Shying away from Lucifer’s embrace, Y/N wrapped her arms around her waist.

Alastor and Lucifer sensed her distress, looking at each other the moment the words passed her lips. With silent understanding, they came slowly to her side, their presence comforting and reassuring. Y/N looked up, her eyes filled with tears that threatened to spill over.

"Ducky, what’s going on in that head of yours?" Lucifer's voice was smooth like velvet, soothing her troubled mind.

Y/N hesitated, her voice barely a whisper. "I... I feel so insecure about my body. I can't help but compare myself to others, to feel like I'm not enough for you two."

Alastor knelt beside her, his grin warm and genuine. "Now, now, my dear. You are perfect just the way you are. Perfect just for us."

“But, I am not. Just look at me! I am not slender, heck you couldn’t put me next to anyone without noticing. Let alone Lillith or–” Holding her arms just to gesture to herself, Y/N could feel herself spill all her emotions manically.

Suddenly, Lucifer grabbed her wrists and pinned her down against the bed. His smoldering gaze glowered down at her as his face leaned down to whisper in her ear.

“I don’t want to hear that name off your pretty little lips, okay? You are mine, the one for me. Not her, not anyone else.”

Coming to their side, Alastor joined his partner in looking down at Y/N. Using his hand to reach around and cup her chin, bringing her gaze to him.

“My dear, I think out little darling needs to learn a little lesson. Mhmm?”

A dark chuckle erupted from Lucifer’s throat, as he stood up and let his grip go. Both men now stared down at their partner, who laid on the bed; half near tears from her thoughts and half near moaning at the sight of her boys looking at her in such a manner.

"We love you, Y/N," Alastor murmured, his voice soft like a melody. "Every inch of you, flaws and all." Slow kisses started down her neck and chest, heat blooming in her core. Attempting to maneneur her shirt lower, her hands werre halted by Lucifer; who grabbed her wrist and pinned them to the headboard as the red demon continued a show of his devotion.

“Ducky, you are going to learn very quickly. Your pleasure, is our only concern.”

With a quick snap of his fingers, all clothes were removed from Y/N and both men were left shirtless; toned and slender bodies on full display. Both men’s eyes darkened with hunger at the sight of her bare form, a silent understanding among them of what was about to happen.

Alastor leaned down and took one of her hardened nipples in his mouth, the warmth of his tongue teasing the aroused bud. Dragging her hands across her torso, he slowly marked her skin with his hands. Lucifer, instead dipped down and spread her thighs, enjoying the way they felt in his hands. Slowly kissing up her thighs, just barely ghosting over where she needed him most, Y/N let out a soft moan.

“Darling, see what you do to us? You are absolutely breathtaking.”

“Driving me mad ducky, fuck, you are just so good to squeeze.”

Finally giving into her whimpers, Lucifer licked one long stripe up her dripping slit. Y/N gripped the sheets below her, legs attempting to get away from the overwhelming sensation. Alastor pinned her legs to the bed, as his mouth came off her nipple with a pop.

“Now darling, let the man finish his meal. He hasn’t even started yet.” Lucifer then dived into her cunt like a man starved, sucking on her clit and slurping her jucies that it was better than heavenly ambrosia; while Alastor moved his minstratitions to her neck, sucking softly. It was only a matter of time before that familiar band became taut in her stomach.

“Fuck, Luci…baby please.”

“Let go ducky, cum all over daddy’s face.”

That’s what did it, Y/N felt the coil in her stomach snap as she cried Lucifer’s name. Cum now coated his face and the bedsheets below as her high overtook her senses and she saw stars. Lifting his head up slowly, slick shone and glinted. Licking his lips, he pressed a soft kiss to her lips and both moaned at the salty taste. Pulling back, Lucifer looked at Alastor who smirked; grabbing Y/N’s chin and forcing her gaze to him.

“Now darling, how would you like your beautiful lips to scream my name next?”

As the night unfolded, Y/N found solace in the arms of her two loves, their embrace a sanctuary from the harsh whispers of doubt that had plagued her for so long. In their presence, she discovered a newfound sense of confidence, knowing that no matter what challenges lay ahead, she would always have Alastor and Lucifer by her side, guiding her through the shadows and into the light of self-acceptance.

In the heart of Hazbin Hotel, amidst the chaos and clamor, a quiet moment of love blossomed, as Alastor and Lucifer vowed to stand by Y/N's side, their bond unbreakable and their love unconditional.

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recreationalfanfics · 2 years

Note

yandere Buddha, Poseiden, and Thor fall in love with a sea goddess darling that already has a husband.

Maybe add a "please" next time but I get what you mean!

I also decided to make it that the husband is a mortal, just for that extra bit of spice.

Yandere! Buddha:

Before Buddha joined the Valkyrie's side, you were one of the Gods who openly protested against the destruction of humanity. Buddha already had his eye on you but this only confirmed deep in his mind that you...you were absolutely perfect. You were always so graceful and elegant, taking everything in stride. When the God's side jeered and hissed at you, you still kept your head high and winked playfully at the human's side. When Buddha announced he was fighting for humanity, it was you who greeted him first.

"I knew you were different," You smiled kindly, "I'm glad the power of being a God didn't go to your head."

Your praises brought a smile to his face, and he chuckled at your words.

"I could say the exact same to you." He retorted. You shrugged, "I mean, of course I would. My husband is a human after all!"

....H...Had he heard you correctly?

You had a husband? Buddha's heart fell in his chest but his face remained it's usual relaxed expression. You thank him again for his allegiances and leave him standing by himself in the middle of the hallway. He chomped down on the lollipop in his mouth and a small muffled "crack" could be heard, his eyes hardening and brimming with the ugliest emotion a human and a God could have...

Jealousy.

- Buddha isn't against humanity, he's just got a thing against your husband specifically. This is shown whenever you bring him around and such and Buddha will always smile at you and nod his head respectfully to your husband but...something is off about his aura. Something that makes your husband anxious but nod back with a timid smile.

- Pathetic. Puny. Weak. Unfit. Unworthy. UNFAIR. These were all the words that would pop into Buddha's head whenever he saw you with your lover. The way you smiled at him, the way you laughed at his jokes, the affectionate kisses and embraces that he wishes so badly to be his.

- What attracted you to him? What is it that you saw in him? While Buddha appreciates the uniqueness of all mortals, this man was absolutely the most boring and normal person he's ever met. So how...how could he have captured your divine heart?

- Was it just because he was human? If so, Buddha used to be human too! He wonders if he still was one, he would be the one by your side. He would be the one who gets to wake up next to you and hold you tenderly in his arms.

- But he wouldn't be able to protect you, as well. In fact, neither was your husband. The more Buddha thought about it, the more angrier he got. He's glad that you chose to fight for Humanity but if HE were your husband, he wouldn't have made you fight. He would've volunteered himself instead, regardless of his power or strength or not.

- During your match, he glares at your husband as he cheers you on and watches you fight instead of being in your place and doing it himself. Every injury you receive, Buddha blames it on your husband who yelled your name and was clearly concerned...just not concerned enough to switch places with you.

- Buddha would have done so if it wasn't for Brunhilde, who seemed to notice his behavior was rather odd as of late, so she kept near him to keep an eye on him. So instead, Buddha just glares at your so-called "lover" as he silently calls him a coward in his head.

- Buddha would try to break you two up, he knows he shouldn't be meddling in your relationship but he'll try to plant seeds of doubt in both your mind and your husband's until one of you can finally see reason and break it off with the other.

- "Humans don't live as long as we do, you know?"/ "It must be hard being married to a Goddess, it must be hard to understand her at times." are all things he says.

- He wouldn't outright kill your husband, maybe set him up to be killed, but never kill him himself because he knows that if you ever found out, you'd never forgive him and that risk was too great.

- So he'll be patient, manipulating the both of you with doubt and planting new insecurities in hopes to make your relationship crack and crumble. If not, he could always play the long game and wait for your little human to die...wouldn't it be a shame if you expected his puny little soul to come to you, only to find out it mysteriously went to Niflhiem?

- It would be so devastating for you, poor thing. Don't worry, your beloved ally Buddha was here to comfort you and be your shoulder to cry on. Unlike your husband, he has all of eternity to make you his.

Yandere! Poseidon:

You and Poseidon may have been sea gods, but you two were extremely different in how you ruled your shared element. You represented the beauty of water, the elegance of the calm waves splashing along the coast, and the balance between all life and plants that grew. Poseidon was the harsh tidal waves and tsunamis that destroyed everything in sight, the harsh storm that sunk the ships of many, and his love for you was as deep and dark as the trenches that lay at the very bottom.

"Poseidon, I wish to have a word with you." You spoke through gritted teeth. The prideful God only stopped walking away from you but he turned his head to the side to silently let you know he was listening. You cut to the chase, "My husband nearly had another fatal accident when he was sailing. I had made it so the conditions were safe and peaceful for him, but suddenly it all changed without warning. Were you responsible?"

"Yes." He responds truthfully and instantly, unfazed by your irritated expression, "That is the risk you take when you have a mortal lover, humans die everyday."

"So do sudden changes in the sea happen everyday the exact moment my husband is too far from me to help?" You shot back.

Poseidon smirks and then turns his head forward, continuing to walk away from you.

"If you're so concerned about your husband, maybe tell him to avoid the seas." He responds coldly before thinking to himself, and the Goddess that watches over it.

- Poseidon knew about your husband from the start, he was there to witness your disgusting little love story play out in front of him and trust him when he said he tried to stop it. Tried to stop YOU from making the biggest mistake of your life.

- He knew mortals had a short life span and that, in God years, he wouldn't have to wait horribly long for your little human pet to die but it was unbearable. That rotten worm shouldn't even be able to breathe near you, nevermind, share your bed and feel your love.

- The God of the Sea had harbored feelings for you for so long, he did not pine and yearn for you in silence just so some wretched little ant can have you!

- It really is unfortunate for your poor husband that the one God who was practically obsessed with you had a burning hatred for humanity as well and he'd make it known without any shame.

- Everytime you call him out or speak against him for it, he doesn't address you, but your husband as he glares at the trifling little welp and says: "Must you always have her fight your battles, shrimp? You're her husband, aren't you?"/ "Poseidon, I am talking to you."/ "And I am talking to the useless little worm that you chose over me!"

- Poseidon is indeed petty because while he does love you, you've also badly injured his ego. Why not him? He was strong, powerful, and beautiful. You both even ruled over the seas, together, you'd be such a beautiful and powerful couple! But no, you had to be foolish and pick a mortal as your lover.

- Poseidon will end that human's life span whether you like it or not because in his mind, he is not the interloper in the relationship. It is your husband that is standing between him and you and the God of the Sea doesn't take kindly to obstacles that keep him from your side.

- He wasn't surprised like other Gods when you had chosen to defend humanity. He was disgusted and dissapointed, but not surprised.

- He will not interfere in your battle at first. He's rather smug whenever the God you're fighting with lands a hit on you and he shoots your husband a look. Pathetic, absolutely pathetic that the only thing the measly being can do is yell words of encouragement. When an injury seems a little too brutal, Poseidon will then interfere in the fight, DARING the other gods to oppose him.

- "Remember this moment, (Y/n). Remember how it was me who stepped in and not the husband that claims to love you so much. Think about this every night you lay next to him about how I had to save you and he was ready to stay on the sidelines and willing to watch you die."

- You are his. He is yours. This not a delusion that his mind created (even though it is), it is a cold hard fact. One that you and your disgusting cowardly lover need to see. He will not stop until he has you or until your lover is dead, or both.

Yandere! Thor:

Thor always felt his icy indifference melt when it came to you, someone who wasn't easily intimidated by his aloof demeanor and actually seemed to enjoy being around him. Perhaps your conversations where one sided, perhaps he didn't seem as excited to see you as you saw him, but you knew. You knew he had to love you, right?

Apparently not, because you only viewed him as a close friend and as a result, he was invited to your wedding ceremony as a guest of honor. For all those countless centuries of "friendship" you two had shared, centuries that meant more to him than mere friendship. Yet, he still attended your seaside wedding and to at least get a glimpse of the God who had stolen you away. Only to realize it was no God, but a human.

A small insignificant human.

You had the God of Thunder at your feet but you kicked him aside for some weak little human!?

He's cold and icy, per usual from everyone else's perspective, but you sensed something was off about it and how it wasn't his usual behavior. You always knew Thor better than most people. Yet, you brushed it off in favor of getting married to the small insignifact little lover of yours, and Thor watched with rage boiling in him as you both sealed your vows with a kiss.

His kiss.

The one he should've shared with you.

- Unlike the other two who try to interfere with your relationship, Thor will not. He is a man of honor and will respect your marriage...to the best of his ability.

- And unlike the other husband's from the last two scenarios, the one you had was a fighter. A good and strong one at that, a bit reckless for his own good, but it's what balanced you two out. Thor hated to see it but even he couldn't deny that he somewhat the appeal from your perspective.

- This human was better at expressing his emotions, had long winded and endless conversations with you, and was not afraid to show his affection to you. If...If Thor had been a little more like him, a bit more expressive...then would you have chosen him?

- He'd've changed a long time ago if he had known, he would've done anything to go back in time and stop living in this Hell. He so desperately wanted you but he simply couldn't have you, not when your husband was in the picture.

- Yes, he planned on waiting for your husband to die but it felt like every single kiss and every single action of love you two shared made time painfully slow and that his heart wanted to leap out of his chest, to tell you everything in hopes he wouldn't have to wait as long as he has to.

- Thor was not good with his feelings, only able to express them freely on the battlefield. But the battlefield of love was a bit harder for him. His storms were violent and there was a pain no magic or healers could fix, a pain he was convinced would heal if he only heard the words "I love you, Thor" from your lips.

- Loki is no help, because he tries to push Thor into snapping for his own sick amusement. I mean, his own cousin and Prince of Asgard allowing his crush to be stolen away from some human who can fight good? Please, it was hilarious to think about but also, he was curious as to how what Thor would do if he just...gave him a little nudge off the edge.

- Ragnarok's arrival was the perfect time to do so. You opposed humanity's destruction and joined their side, unsurprisingly, but your husband wouldn't fight alone. He presented the idea of being chosen a champion of humanity to Brunhilde and while you were upset he did so behind your back, it was just another reason you loved your stubborn human.

- When Loki found out about this, he presented the idea to Thor who just frowned. Your husband was a man of great bravery, it was no wonder you adored him, but Loki just snickered as his stupid cousin didn't realize this could work out in his favor.

- "After all, you're too much of a goody-goody to ruin their odd little union but...it would truly be a shame if something happened to her husband if he just bit off a bit more than he could chew going against a God. (Y/n) couldn't even blame you, not if she thought you were forced to fight him."

- And he had a point. For once, Loki made sense to Thor, perfect sense. So he managed to convince his father to have him face off against your husband first.

- He stared at you, your face conflicted for it was your dearest friend against your beloved husband. He then looked at your husband, who had a determined look and a sad smile on his face. Thor already can see his soul being sent to Niflhiem, how you'd need someone to comfort you and how Thor would pretend to feel remorse but was only doing what his father expected of him, how you'd be too vulnerable and upset to be angry and collapse in his arms.

- You will finally be mine, he thinks to himself as he charges towards your poor spouse.

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inkspiredwriting · 4 months

Text

The Mind’s Maze

Five Hargreeves x Fem!reader

Warnings: none

Y/N had always known she was different. From a young age, she could sense the emotions of others, feel their thoughts brushing against hers. As she grew older, her abilities became more pronounced, evolving into the power to manipulate consciousness itself. She could delve into minds, influence thoughts, even alter memories. But with great power came great fear—fear of losing control, of unintentionally causing harm.

That’s where Number Five came in. He had experienced his own struggles with his powers, and he understood the burden Y/N carried. They had met during one of Five’s missions, and their connection had been immediate and deep. Now, they were inseparable, and Five was determined to help Y/N master her abilities.

One crisp morning, Five and Y/N stood in the training room of the Umbrella Academy. The room was spacious and bright, filled with various equipment designed to test and hone their unique skills. Y/N looked around, feeling a mix of excitement and anxiety.

“Are you ready?” Five asked, his voice steady and reassuring.

Y/N nodded, taking a deep breath. “As ready as I’ll ever be.”

Five smiled, placing a hand on her shoulder. “Remember, Y/N, the key to controlling your powers is to stay calm and focused. Your mind is a powerful tool, and you need to trust yourself.”

Y/N nodded again, closing her eyes and centering herself. “Okay. What’s first?”

“We’ll start with something simple,” Five said. “I want you to focus on me and try to sense what I’m thinking.”

Y/N took a deep breath and focused on Five. She felt the familiar sensation of her consciousness reaching out, brushing against his mind. It was like dipping her toes into a cool stream, the thoughts and emotions flowing around her. She concentrated, trying to tune into his specific thoughts.

“I can feel you,” she said softly. “You’re thinking about... me. About us.”

Five smiled. “Good. Now, I want you to go a bit deeper. Try to influence my thoughts. Just a small suggestion.”

Y/N hesitated. This was the part that scared her the most—using her powers to change someone’s mind. She didn’t want to hurt Five, didn’t want to overstep her bounds. But she trusted him, and she knew he wouldn’t let anything bad happen.

“Okay,” she said, focusing again. She reached deeper into Five’s mind, feeling the layers of his thoughts. She concentrated on a simple suggestion: “Raise your right hand.”

For a moment, nothing happened. Then, slowly, Five’s right hand began to lift. Y/N’s eyes widened in surprise and relief. She had done it. She had influenced his thoughts without losing control.

“Excellent,” Five said, lowering his hand. “You’re doing great, Y/N. Now let’s try something a bit more challenging.”

They spent the next few hours practicing, with Five guiding Y/N through various exercises. He encouraged her to delve deeper into his mind, to influence more complex thoughts and emotions. Y/N’s confidence grew with each success, her fear gradually giving way to a sense of empowerment.

After a particularly intense session, Five called for a break. They sat together on the floor, leaning against the wall. Y/N was exhausted but exhilarated. She had made more progress in one day than she had in months.

“You’re a natural,” Five said, handing her a bottle of water. “You just needed to believe in yourself.”

Y/N smiled, taking a sip of water. “I couldn’t have done it without you, Five. You make me feel safe. You make me feel like I can do anything.”

Five’s expression softened, and he reached out to take her hand. “You’re stronger than you realize, Y/N. You’ve got an incredible gift, and with time and practice, you’re going to master it.”

Y/N leaned her head on his shoulder, feeling a deep sense of contentment. “Thank you, Five. For everything.”

They sat in comfortable silence for a while, simply enjoying each other’s presence. Then, Five stood up, extending a hand to help Y/N to her feet.

“Ready for one more exercise?” he asked.

Y/N took his hand, pulling herself up. “Always.”

Five led her to the center of the room, his expression turning serious. “This time, I want you to try something different. I want you to enter my mind fully. See if you can navigate through my memories.”

Y/N’s eyes widened. “Are you sure? That’s... that’s pretty invasive.”

“I trust you,” Five said firmly. “And I think you’re ready for it. Just remember to stay calm and focused. I’ll be right here with you.”

Y/N nodded, her heart pounding with a mix of fear and excitement. She closed her eyes and reached out with her consciousness, delving deeper into Five’s mind than ever before. She felt herself slipping into his memories, seeing flashes of his past.

There were moments of pain and loneliness, scenes of him wandering through the apocalypse, struggling to survive. But there were also moments of joy and love—memories of their time together, the bond they had formed.

As she navigated through his memories, Y/N felt a profound connection to Five. She saw the world through his eyes, understood his struggles and triumphs. It was a deeply intimate experience, one that left her feeling closer to him than ever before.

When she finally pulled back, returning to her own consciousness, she found Five watching her with a look of awe and affection.

“You did it,” he said softly. “You really did it.”

Y/N smiled, tears of relief and happiness in her eyes. “I couldn’t have done it without you, Five. Thank you for trusting me.”

Five pulled her into a tight embrace, holding her close. “I’ll always trust you, Y/N. You’re stronger and braver than you know.”

As they stood there, wrapped in each other’s arms, Y/N felt a sense of peace and confidence she had never known before. With Five by her side, she knew she could face anything. Together, they would navigate the complexities of her powers and the challenges of their lives, stronger and more united than ever.

#number five imagine #five hargreeves imagines #five hargreeves x reader #number five x reader #five hargreeves x you #the umbrella academy #number five

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hisui-dreamer · 6 months

Note

hiii rinna!!! congratulations on 2k!!!!!! ˃ᴗ˂ 🫶🫶🫶🎉🎉🎉🎉agsgsh I hope I'm not too late ^^"

can I request silver with white rose? :D

foolish decisions in blossoming love

Pairing: Silver x gn!reader

Synopsis: in getting one bouquet for a friend, you ended up getting another bouquet for a stranger

Tags: meet cute, fluff, florist au, reader is just really flustered

Word count: 1.1k+

Notes: you're not late at all kei, im the one who's late ⊙⁠﹏⁠⊙ i hope silver fluff makes up for it!!

Masterlist

flower of choice: white roses

white roses represent pure love, indicating that you are willing to sacrifice your all for your love

The bell tinkled gently as you pushed open the door to the quaint flower shop. Stepping inside, you were immediately enveloped in a symphony of fragrances, the sweet aroma of fresh blooms mingling with the earthy scent of potted plants. The air was alive with vitality, as if each petal and leaf whispered secrets of beauty and renewal.

Your gaze swept over the charming interior, your eyes drinking in the riot of colours and shapes that adorned every corner of the shop. A kaleidoscope of blossoms greeted you, their vibrant hues dancing in the soft, golden light that filtered through the windows. It was a scene straight out of a painting, a sanctuary of serenity amidst the bustling city streets.

You caught a flicker of movement out of the corner of your eye, and your attention was drawn to the silver-haired man, positioned behind the counter. His fingers expertly arranged a bouquet with effortless skill, moving with a fluidity that hinted at years of practice. The gentle sunlight bathed his face, creating a soft halo around his silhouette.

Your heart skipped a beat as you beheld him, and your breath momentarily caught in your throat. There was an ethereal quality to his presence, reminiscent of a fairy straight out of a storybook.

"Excuse me," you finally managed to murmur, your voice barely above a whisper as you stood before him, spellbound by his presence.

He looked up, his purple-blue eyes meeting yours with a softness that sent shivers down your spine. "Hello there," he replied, a smile gracing his lips. "How may I help you?"

Your mind cleared momentarily, focusing on the reason you came here. "I’m looking to buy a bouquet," you said, your voice steadier now. “My friend hasn't been feeling well lately. I thought some flowers might brighten their day.”

He nodded sympathetically, understanding the sentiment.

“I see… Is there a particular type they like?”

"Not particularly. I just want something to lift their spirits," you answered earnestly.

With a gentle nod, he considered your words, his fingers tracing over the petals of various blooms thoughtfully. “Perhaps a bouquet of lilies," he suggested, his eyes alight with inspiration. "Lilies are often associated with purity and success, making them a perfect choice to wish for a successful recovery."

You hummed at his words, a sense of wonder dawning on your face. "I didn’t know flowers carried messages…" you mumbled curiously.

He smiled warmly, appreciating your interest. "Yes, the language of flowers has been used for centuries to convey sentiments and emotions. Each flower has its own unique symbolism, allowing us to express our feelings in a beautiful and meaningful way," he explained, his passion for flowers shining through in his words.

As you watched him speak, you found yourself drawn to the grace with which he moved, the way his fingers delicately caressed each petal as if coaxing out its hidden secrets. There was something about the warmth in his eyes, the sincerity in his voice, that stirred your soul. You found yourself hanging onto his every word, entranced by the depth of his passion.

It was irrational of you to be so affected by a stranger. You wanted to stay in his presence, to bask in the light of his warmth and kindness for as long as you possibly could. In that fleeting moment, you found yourself inexplicably attached to him, drawn to him in a way that defied all logic and reason.

In an effort to hear him talk more, to hear his calming voice longer, you pointed to a delicate white rose, meekly asking, "What does this one mean?

His eyes crinkled as he smiled gently. "White roses symbolize pure love."

Your heart skipped a beat once again, the meaning of the flower resonating deeply within you. "Pure love," you murmured, lost in thought for a moment.

“I’ll be right back,” Silver said, breaking you out of your thoughts as he disappeared into the back of the shop with some lilies, leaving you alone with your thoughts and your infatuation towards the gentle florist. You was barely gone for five minutes, but you already missed him, wanting to spend more time with him, to learn more about the stories that lay hidden behind his kind eyes and warm demeanour.

But how could you make it more natural? How could you bridge the gap between customer and florist? The answer eluded you, but you knew that you couldn't let this opportunity slip away.

"Here we are," Silver said, a sense of satisfaction in his voice as he walked back to your side. "I hope it brings comfort and cheer to your friend."

Your eyes shimmered with gratitude as you beheld the finished arrangement. "It’s beautiful…," you breathed, your voice filled with awe. "Thank you. I'm sure they’ll love it."

Silver’s smile brightened at your words, and you felt a surge of courage welling up inside you. With a timid yet determined voice, you finally voiced the words that had been lingering on your tongue. "If it’s alright, I'd like to request another too."

His brows furrowed slightly, a flicker of curiosity crossing his features. "Another bouquet?"

You nodded, bashfulness colouring your cheeks. "Yes, one with white roses, please."

A flash of disappointment crossed his face before he quickly put on a polite smile. “Of course, please wait a moment,” before disappearing in the back again.

A pang of sadness tugged at his heart as he meticulously prepared the delicate white roses. He couldn't help but feel a twinge of disappointment knowing that you already had someone in your life whom you wanted to dedicate pure love to. Despite his efforts to hide it, a faint shadow crossed his features as he arranged the flowers with practised care, his thoughts momentarily clouded by a hint of longing.

But as he showed you the completed bouquet, his feelings of melancholy were quickly replaced by a surge of warmth, your genuine appreciation for his assistance washing away any lingering sadness.

You swiftly settled the payment for both bouquets, your heart pounding with anticipation as you gathered your courage. With a determined breath, you reached out and delicately handed Silver the bouquet of white roses. His eyes met yours, a confused expression flickering across his features as he awaited your next move.

"Silver," you began, your voice trembling slightly yet resolute, "these are for you." As the words slipped from your lips, a rush of uncertainty engulfed you, but you pushed through, driven by the intensity of your emotions. "They represent... what I feel for you."

Embarrassment flooded your senses as the rational side of you chastised the idiocy of giving flowers to a florist. Could you be any more embarrassing?

Hastily, you uttered, "Thank you for your help! I hope I’ll see you more often!" Leaving behind a note bearing your number, you made a swift exit with the lilies, the jingle of the bell marking your departure.

But had you lingered for just a moment longer, you would have witnessed a rosy blush blossoming across the florist's cheeks and spreading down his neck, a loving smile spreading across his face.

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