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nanamis-princess · 1 day

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Can I rq jjk x depressed reader hcs? And gn reader please!!

Love your works btw, 10/10! You're genuinely one of my favorite people on here

✯¸.•´*¨`*•✿ ✿•*`¨*`•.¸✯

Jujitsu Kaisen men x depressed reader headcanons

Synopsis: your depressed & they wanna make you feel better:)

Genre: fluff with a dose of depression

T/w: depression, mentions of geto making someone go bye bye loll, not being able to take care of yourself. Plz lmk if I missed anything.

Nanami, Gojo, Geto, Yuji, Megumi (separate) X gen reader

Nanami

-Nanami is a very observant partner, that new ice cream flavor you tried and said you liked is now written down in his notes app. When he brought you as his plus one to his company dinner party, he could tell you weren’t found of one of his coworker without you having to say a word about it. He dismissed you both and you carried on with the night. So Kento notices when you start slipping, sometimes even before you do.

-kento will use his sick days to spend time with you, to make sure you’re okay. You’ll spend the morning cuddling, if you want to be held he will hold you and kiss your forehead.

- If you start crying he lets you get it out, he will wipe your tears away. Kento runs his hands along to your upper cheek after wipe your tears, rubbing your temple as tears run down your cheek. “You’ll get through this I promise” he says rubbing your temple near the roots of your hair.

-if you are in a state where you can eat he will prepare you a home cooked meal along with a glass of water. But if you prefer takeout he’ll get it for you, whatever you want to eat its yours as long as you are eating something. Eating together on the couch with light rain hitting the widow, snuggled in with blankets and candles going.

-if you aren’t able to eat he’ll just you take a few bites so you have something in your system along with a glass of water. He also encourages you to indulge, you are already going through enough and he wants you to take it easy.

-along with trying to make it easy if you take any medication he has reminders on his phone until it’s mussel memory to remind you. He cleans up after you as well, he knows how hard it is to get through this and wants to make this process as easy for you as he can.

-he takes care of your hair for you, he’ll bathe you while using essential oils and helps you get dressed along with your nightly routine. “I’m so proud of you for making it through today darling, I know it was draining” he say in a low tone as he rubs the lotion onto your back. He places a soft kiss to your shoulder.

-during the day he gets you out of the bed and to sit in the living room with him, just so you are up out of bed. He picks you up carrying you to the living room along with your comfort blanket. He puts on your comfort show or movie.

Gojo

-He’s a very quick learner, he learned how to take care of you, what to do and what not to do. Satoru will not let you slip through his fingers he will be right there for you. When he was younger he didn’t understand what Geto was going through, now he does so he truly means he will never let you fall.

-after an evening of teaching he comes home with goodies for you and him to share, along with gossip of course to see you teary eyed on your shared bed with your day time clothe still on. The past few days just took a lot from you and he can tell. “My cutie patootie gumdrop what’s wrong?” He asks using the nicknames you laugh at but with actual concern.

-he understands if you prefer not to talk about how you feel or if something made you feel this way but he listens if you do. “If its not easy to talk about right now, we don’t have to” he says softly. Satoru sits at the edge of the bed with you as he gentle wipes off your makeup. After running you a bath and getting you settled in for the evening you both lay in bed eating the sweets he brought home for the two of you.

-it doesn’t matter if he is up all night, he makes sure that you some how get one rest if you have a hard time getting sleep. But if you sleep for long periods of time he lets you. You guys even take naps together, he puts on rains sounds or white noise, your stuffed animals and fluffy bedsheets.

-Satoru makes sure you eat something, big or small portions all that matters is you eat. Along with medication, he even gets you a sweet treat to eat after you take it along with kisses all over your face. “Now that the hard part is done” he kisses your cheek “we can do what you want” he gives you another kiss on the cheek. “We can watch a movie, or that new season of that show you wanted to watch?”

-the next morning after you’ve been going through it you wake up to the curtains slightly open letting some sunshine in with flowers on your nightstand and piece of media you’d been eyeing lately. Along with the smell of breakfast flowing through the apartment.

Geto

-as we know he’s been through this himself so he can spot it a mile away, he stops you mid way as you are trying to make a cup of coffee/tea for yourself. “I can make it, go sit I’ll bring it to you” he say with compassion and a small kiss to your forehead.

-when all you want to do is curl into a ball and do nothing, he lets you but he never leaves your side. Even when its hard he tries to take care of you, getting you to eat or take a shower together. He wants to make this go away for you, so you don’t stuffer anymore. You don’t deserve to suffer.

-if something is bothering you he encourages you to talk about what made you fall into this pit, if he’s able to fix it he will. Annoying coworker or boss that wont leave you alone? That’s too bad they went missing.

-he doesn’t want you to be alone he wants to be right there with you. He cups your face as your tears fall, his thumb wipes them away. “Breath in 1..2..3..4..5, hold it. Breath out 1..2..3..4..5” he says quietly looking into your eyes. “The storm will pass I promise” he says before kissing your cheeks lovingly.

- The curtains are slightly open as the sun goes down your head gentle resting on his thigh as he gently plays with a strand of your hair whiling reading to you.

Yuji

-he loves making you smile and laugh, he will do anything to make you happy. His heart aches when he notices the depression coming back again, he just wants to pick you up and run from it so you never feel that way ever again.

-yuji will take a shower with you while a playlist of your favorite songs are playing, he understands if you just want to get in and out to lay back down so he takes care of washing your body and hair. He gives you a back massage too. He gives you his favorite hoodie that smells like his cologne, it’s a pull over hoodie that he got for his birthday.

-he read somewhere that your environment impacts your mental health so when you go through this he cleans the apartment and lights candles that are your favorite scent.

-holds you all day, all night and every moment that he can. Giving you forehead kisses or kisses on top your head. You guys also have a movie marathon until you feel better, he always lets you pick what you watch.

-has many many many reminders in his phone to remind you to take your medication if you take any. He will even make you milkshakes to take with it.

Megumi

-like nanami he is very observant especially about the ones he loves, he always keeps tabs on you so when it rises he’s ready to take care of you and be there. Doesn’t want you to lift a finger, he just wants you to ride this out. “I promise it won’t last forever, you will come out on top” he says before kissing your temple.

-when he washes your hair and body for he also is washing the bedding. He added essential oils like lavender or eucalyptus to help with calmness.

-pulls you gently to lay on his chest as you drift back asleep. You both take long naps together, you always wake up in his arms.

-he already reminds you everyday to take your medication, this is no different. Expect he got you a new plushy along & your favorite candy along with your refill.

-when he’s up making dinner you got up to use the bathroom, on your side of the bed on the floor you find a stick and a chew toy along with both the dogs on your side of the bed. When realizing you got up they both stood up to follow.

A/N: I really hope you like this! Ur so sweet thank you for saying that! As someone who struggles with depression this made me smile. For anyone going through it, you’ll get through it babes I promise. Plz try drinking water & getting something in your stomach. You deserve amazing things and to take care of yourself.

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astralis-ortus · 2 days

Text

against the world

✱ boyfriend!bc × fem!reader

— for as long as i love you.

w.count → 2k genre → angst, fluff, a dash of comedy warnings → reader mocked by a character, self deprecating thought a.n → based on this request! took me a while to figure how to write because brain did not want to work together with the pictures i had in mind but we're here! it's a fun one to work on (despite the angst)(i actually love the angst) and i hope it's up to your expectation!<3

the bus ride felt like forever.

honestly, you weren’t even sure why you ended up arguing with chan in the first place. hell, you couldn’t even remember what even really irked you about his response. all you remembered was about feeling upset and ended up lashing out at chan to the point where he decided to head back to his studio despite just coming back the hour prior, just so he doesn’t say anything he might regret.

when he still hadn’t returned hours later, however, guilt started to dig its sharp nails into your sore heart.

you knew you had to let him cool his head—you understand that, but you can’t sit still knowing he’d likely lock himself in and drown himself in work. you can’t, especially when you knew for a fact he hadn’t got anything to eat since you two were planning to go on a date had the argument never happened. he hasn’t been on top of his condition as is, and you won’t be able to forgive yourself if this whole absolute ridicule of a situation you caused made him fall sick.

hence, after your nth call went straight to his voicemail, you know there’s only one thing left you could do—go to his studio and apologize.

“thank you,” you offered a smile at the familiar security guard, bowing your head enough as you entered through the trainee and artist entrance of the building. usually, either you or chan would offer him a snack or coffee whenever you got there together, but with all the chaos happening inside your head, all you could remember to grab was the light meal you had hurriedly prepared for chan as an apology.

“bang chan is still in his studio,” the security guard quietly informed with a knowing smile, abruptly stopping you in your track with your eyes wide at him, “most of the staff, trainee, and artist have left for the day, but you could let me know if you need access to the rooftop. the weather is good enough for you to talk there.”

you blinked at his offer, a little stunned at the conclusion he took just by looking at you. is it that obvious…?

“it’s going to be okay; fights are bound to happen between couples,” he continued lightly with a tender smile, as if reading the thoughts passing your mind, “as long as you love and care about each other, there’s nothing you two can’t handle. don’t worry.”

choking up a breath, you hurriedly thanked the security guard and walked past the familiar hallways leading to your boyfriend’s studio. tears were pooling dangerously in your eyes, threatening its way out as you replayed the passing advice in your head. he’s right—as long as you love and care about each, there’s—

“hey! you! stop right there!”

the loud echoing voice snapped you out of your thoughts, again halting your steps before you reached your destination. despite your racing heartbeat at the sudden loudness, you try your best to seek for the other soul around—leading your eyes to land at a female figure at the end of the hallway.

“oh,” you immediately bowed your head as soon as you noticed the identity of the staff rushed towards you—one you recognize as a part of division 2, according to an exchange she had with chan a few months prior during one of your visits. “hello, i just—”

“who are you? how do you get in here?” the sharpness in her voice made you wince; startled and confused. you’re certain she’s aware of your presence before—distinctly remembering how chan awkwardly introduced you as to her own request, understandably wary of an unfamiliar face lurking around a private section of the company.

“right,” you shook your head, ridding your mind off of the uneasiness you picked up, “sorry, you probably don’t remember. i’m chan’s girlfriend. we met a couple months ago? i remember chan introdu—”

“girlfriend?” she scoffed, not even letting you finish your sentence. the way she shut you off left a sharp sting in your heart, but even that wouldn’t compare to the way her icy gaze pierced right through you—pricking and prodding every inch of your appearance, finalized with a condescending snicker.

“another crazy fan, huh?”

you felt your heart sink at the accusation. dating chan, you knew it would come with the bad alongside the good. you understood that, and you knew better than anyone to focus on the flowers and butterflies chan made your everyday look like while paying zero attention to the odd snarky remarks here and there. though it sure has been quite some time since the last time someone accused you of being delusional, but to be completely honest with yourself, it didn’t make it hurt any less.

fingers tighten around the strap of chan’s meal bag on your hand, you try hard not to let yourself crumble as you attempted to defend yourself, “no, i’m not—”

“besides,” cutting you short, she took a step closer and shoved her fingers on your shoulder, “you need to wake up. why would chan even date someone like you?”

you know you’re not perfect. you know that despite the amount of love you have for chan, there’s no promise of a perfect future between the two of you. you know that there’s a possibility of a life where you have to live without chan, and the blame will most likely be on you—because you’re not pretty enough. you’re not talented enough. you’re not someone of a similar background. you’re not even anywhere close to being on chan’s level, and it’s all because you’re you.

“seriously, get a grip,” she hissed, digging her fingers onto the bone of your shoulder while you desperately bit your lip, trying to contain the tears threatening to fall. “you’re just some lowly, delusional fan. don’t even—”

“don’t even what, noona?”

both you and the staff immediately snapped your eyes towards the figure behind her; heavy, firm steps towards you with his jaw tense and a silent rage burning in his eyes. she immediately scrambled away from you, hiding her hands—ones nearly pushing you to an endless canyon of despair.

you’ve never seen chan that angry.

“i-i just—”

“she’s my girlfriend,” chan emphasized through gritted teeth, taking your freezing hand in his trembling one, “and you do not talk to my woman like that.”

“i was just looking out for you!” she attempted to defend herself, fear present in her eyes as she attempted to look straight into chan’s eyes. “you know how crazy these sasaengs have been these days! i just—”

“stop!”

your body involuntarily jumped at the sudden raise in his voice, eyes wide as you looked at him in surprise. his face was red—but even from your point of view, you could see he was hurt.

“no one gave you the right to talk to my people like that,” chan towered against her as he makes himself clear, "especially towards my woman. you don’t—”

“channie,”

your voice was soft, but it was enough to quiet down the anger burning inside chan. yes—his priority is to keep you safe.

shifting his attention entirely towards you, chan felt his heart drop—your eyes were red, trails of tears apparent down your cheeks. your fingers were ice cold against his burning skin, and the way he felt your body tremble broke his heart.

“baby,” chan cracked a weak smile, trying to ease the tension on you as he ran his palms against your arm, “are you okay? need me to carry you?”

you quickly shook your head, sniffles escaping past your lips as your nerves slowly calmed down. you’re just so, so tired—and all you need is chan.

“let’s head to my studio, okay?” his voice was soft, arms wrapped around your frail figure as he leads you down the empty hallway, leaving the still stunned staff behind. he’ll deal with that tomorrow; because now, your well-being mattered most to him.

as soon as you got to chan’s studio, he immediately locked the familiar green room and covered you up with a blanket—ones he kept especially for you, keeping you warm as he quietly cuddled you on the small couch. your faint sniffles turned into sobs, and as the sense of safety finally settled in your bones, you finally let yourself cry into chan’s arms.

chan simply stayed silent; warmth of his arms surrounds you whilst he lets you pour your feelings out.

he heard almost everything the staff had said to you, and he’s mad at himself for not being able to protect you from those words. he should’ve been there with you, keeping you safe from the unnecessary hate just because you’re his girlfriend. he should’ve stayed with you instead of running away. he should’ve—

“i’m sorry for lashing out on you,” you clutched onto his hoodie, voice coming out weak as you try to regulate your breathing. “i didn’t know why i was so upset. i shouldn’t have done that to you. i’m sorry.”

“i’m sorry too, baby,” he pulled you closer into his arms, letting you nuzzle against the crook of his neck. “i shouldn’t have left you home alone, let alone for hours. i just—i could’ve handled it better. i’m sorry.”

a hum escaped your lips along with a soft shake of your head, showing your disapproval to his apology. “no, channie. i understand why you feel like you need to leave to clear your head. just… i’m worried because you didn’t answer my calls, and i know you hadn’t eaten anything today, so—”

“wait,” chan gently pulled away and looked at your flushed face, light trace of his fingers fixing the stray strands off your features, “you called? i didn’t hear my phone ring—or buzz, as a matter of fact. when did you call?”

“last was an hour ago, i think?” you leaned onto chan’s warm touch. “i don’t know. i was hurrying—ah,” eyes suddenly wide, you prodded your finger at the bag chan had set aside on his desk earlier, “i brought you some sandwich to eat. it’s not much, but you need to eat, channie.”

chan was stunned—he felt warm.

he’s used to being left alone to sort his feelings. he’s used to being treated as if his emotions were worth nothing, and he only mattered if he did something for others. chan is used to feeling invisible—but with you, he felt seen. not because of what he’s trying to prove, but because of the simple fact that he’s… him.

clearing his throat, chan immediately flashes a smile at you. “let’s eat first, yeah?” he hummed, voice noticeably lighter as he gently moved you off his lap and grabbed the little bag. “you should eat too. you spent a lot of energy crying.”

“but—”

“no buts,” he playfully glared at you, lips pursed in protest, “you came all the way here for me, it’s only fair i share my food with you.”

“after this,” finally unpacking the sandwich and handing you his other half, “we’ll order something else and some ice cream while i play you some of the songs i was working on. sounds good?”

the way your face lit up was enough of an answer for chan—your excited nods were merely a confirmation.

“alright, alright,” he chuckled, fighting off the urge to pull you back into his arms. instead, chan fished for the phone in his pocket and handed it to you. “your pick, baby.”

“yes! i’m—wait,” pressing on the power button, you blinked upon realizing how the screen remained unchanged despite your attempts. “did you forgot to charge your phone, channie?”

Chan grimaced. You could see how he’s slowly tracing his steps throughout the day—until a split second of realization flashed past his eyes. His lips turned into a little grin; one he always wears when he realizes he did something wrong.

“…did i?”

You’re out of words.

“channie!”

“hahah—i’m sorry!”

©️ astralisortus, 2024. | likes and reblogs are highly appreciated♡

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strawberries-and-summer-days · 3 days

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HELLO CAN YOu DO A PJO WHEN PERCY IS COMPLAINING ABOUT THE READER FAVORITE BOOK BOYFRIEND (peeta mellark or Thomas from the maze runner) LIKE THIS SIMP IS JEALOUS

TAKING INSPIRATION TO THIS PLEAAAAAAAAAASE 😂😂😂😂😂😂

Sorry 🌸

BUT I'M YOUR BOYFRIEND! .𖥔 ݁ ˖

paring: percy jackson x athena!fem!reader

warnings: swearing

a/n: this is such an awesome request i swear aksjdgajh. sorry this took me so long to get around to as well, writers block is a biiiitch

"y/nnnnnnnnn."

the whine greets you from outside your room.

"yes?" you ask looking up when percy enters your room.

"what are we doing tonight?" your boyfriend asks plopping down on your bed slipping under the covers next to you and ruining the quiet bubble you had created around yourself.

"i'm going to continue reading this book," you say returning to your reading.

percy apparently unsatisfied with that leans his head on your shoulder nuzzling into your neck.

"y/nnn," he protests.

"percyyyy," you groan right back. "i'm reading."

switching tactics percy moves from your shoulder to lay in front of you and look up at you with puppy dog eyes.

"you can read later, spend time with mee."

rolling your eyes you shut your book, put it down in your lap rest your hands on top of it and stare down at the toddler adjacent teenager in front of you.

"percy," you say. "you know i love you. but this-" you hold up your copy of the hunger games- "is my favorite series and you are currently ruining it by being a little shit."

"i am ruining it?" percy says in mock outrage. "i finally got a free afternoon from classes and you spend all my precious time on reading!"

"because reading is fun!" you explain with a grin, knowing you're riling him up.

"more fun than spending time with me?"

"currently? yes."

percy leaps up from the bed with a betrayed expression on his face. "i am hurt, actually hurt right now." he spins around and makes it to your dorm door. "i cannot believe you would do this to me."

"percy," you laugh, finally putting aside the book.

"no, we're not talking right now. in fact we're currently having a big fight."

rolling your eyes you escape the covers of your bed you make your way over to your pouting boyfriend.

"fiiiine, i'll spend the afternoon with you."

like a switch, percy's face goes from sulking to lighting up in cheekiness, before he lifts you up and tackles you onto the bed. "i'm your favorite again?" he asks with big, wide eyes.

"you never weren't you big baby."

grinning widely percy leans down to you and places a soft kiss on your cheek.

"okayy," you say when he pulls you into his lap and wraps his arm around your waist. "what do you want to do then?"

"read."

"PERCY!" you cry out. a string of swear words escape your mouth and you try and twist around but percy just tightens his grip on you and places a kiss on your neck- now that quickly placates you.

"read to me," he whispers in your ear, sending shivers throughout you.

"read to you?"

"yeah, lets escape to your favourite world together." he presses a kiss to your temple. "and so i can see about this so called peeta mellark."

"how do yo-"

"please, you think i don't know who my girl spends her time on?" a smile creeps onto your face at percy's words. "besides you fawn over him all the time."

"are you saying you're jealous over a fiction character right now?"

"you spend more time gushing over him than me."

"you're totally jealous!" you laugh.

"i'm your boyfriend not him!" percy protests.

opening your book again you pick up where you left off. "hush, if you want me to read, you must be quiet."

percy quiets and snuggles deeper into the covers, his arms tightly wrapped around you as you read to him, your voice lulling him into a comforting peace.

you love moments like these.

just the two of you.

its perfect.

#percy jackson x reader #percy jackson x you #percy jackson x fem!reader #percy jackson x y/n #percy x reader #percy x y/n #percy x you #percy jackson fanfic #percy jackson #percy jackson fic #fanfic #fanfiction #emma writes ₊˚⊹⋆

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dwaekkicidal · 2 days

Text

Worship.

˚ʚChangbin x Gn!Readerɞ˚

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ summary: Making love with and worshiping Seo Changbin. No real plot, just reader spoiling Binnie (like he deserves 🔫).

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ word count: 2.1k

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ warnings: want to say gender neutral but fem!reader just in case, reader is referred to as “Bunny,” a teeny bit angsty; mentions of binnie feeling nervous about his ‘ab’ reveal, oral (m receiving), binnie cries like 1(½) times (im sorry), love making and slow sex (tho the sex itself is super short), creampie (try to pee after sex pls), tiny breeding mention

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ notes: I cant even lie i actually cried multiple times while writing this LMFAOO. 😐 I’m sleep deprived and I get suuuper moody when I am so here we are. anyways.. this was largely inspired by the tummy part i wrote in this, but i got super sappy and was listening to mind numbing, slow love songs while I wrote this so i made it worshiping him in general (i'm not sorry. he deserves all of this and more)

NOT PROOFREAD(ill do it tmrw >.<)

MDNI!! smut below the cut

DO NOT republish or translate+post my work!

•⑅♡⑅•⑅♡⑅•⑅♡⑅•⑅♡⑅•⑅♡⑅•⑅♡⑅•⑅♡⑅•⑅♡⑅•⑅♡⑅•⑅♡⑅•

Your knees were so sore, the soft carpet under you was no longer doing its job in cushioning them from your spot on the floor. But, you’re not sure you would complain even if you were able to. The sight above you was one that you would happily fight every god and goddess for just the chance of seeing again. Changbin was leaned against your bedroom door, shirt bunched up tightly in his hand as he held it to his chest. His jaw is slacked and his eyebrows were knitted together harshly. Your jaw ached at this point, but you were here to prove a point.

You had overheard your boyfriend talking to his members about the recent “Ab reveal” comment he made in a recent SKZCode episode. The members had told him many times that he didn’t actually have to go through with it, that nobody would be mad at him if he decided to not do it. You took it upon yourself to talk to him about this, and when you realized that he was very shy about his tummy compared to his confidence about his biceps, you realized you had some work to do.

So, being the good girlfriend you were, you dropped to your knees and promised to prove to him just how sexy all of him was. And that’s how you got here. Now, focusing back on your goal you simply sunk farther onto his dick, humming against his sensitive tip as it hit the back of your throat.

“H-Holy shit… Bunnyy-”

His eyes rolled to the back of his head and the hand in your hair tightened. He hand held you there for a few seconds until you gagged against him, then he finally pulled you off slightly. You could feel his legs start to shake under your palms as you repeated your previous pace, the pleasure was getting too much and you could easily tell how close he was when he whined so prettily. You hastily get back to work and use your hands on his thighs as leverage, bobbing your head forward and backwards with a strong desire to please him.

“Fuck! God, you’re so good to me, Bunny. What did I do to deserve you.” Your eyebrows furrow in a glare up at him before you lightly graze your teeth against his length as punishment, not enough to actually hurt him badly but just enough to remind him what this was all about in the first place. “A-AH! S-Sorry!”

You felt his hips stutter and you take that as the only warning besides his pitching moans, so you pull off so only his tip rests against your tongue and suck. Your hands move to quickly pump the rest of his length, paying extra attention to the sensitive underside, as he rides out his high. The hand in your hair moves to hold a deafening grip on his hip, he’s trying his hardest to not let out a pornographic moan as his hips buck uncontrollably into your mouth. His eyes stayed on the scene in front of him for as long as they could before they slammed shut from how overwhelming it all was.

Once his hips cease their movements, and are instead replaced with little convulses from sensitivity, you pull away and leave a soft kiss to his tip. A shaky laugh is pulled from him in pure disbelief of the intensity of the orgasm you just gave him. He goes to pull you up but you smack his hand away, opting to stay on the floor and litter kisses along his thighs. They trail unbearably slowly; up his thighs to his pelvis before trailing up to his stomach. You stay there for a while, appreciating the area with soft pecks of adoration and nibbles just to tease a little.

It was uncomfortable to crouch at this angle, but you needed your point to be proven. You needed this man to understand just how sexy he was to you. Just how fucking insane he drove you by merely breathing the same air as you. You were obsessed with your Seo Changbin, and honestly who could blame you? He was the hottest man in the universe. Very silly but serious when needed, he treated you like royalty even in front of his friends and family, and he communicated his feelings like you’d never seen before. He was everything a woman could ask of a man, and you felt it was your only goal in life to make sure he knew it.

After getting lost in your thoughts, you return to your endeavor and rise up to his chest. It was still rising up and down from his frantic breaths, but you ignored the chance to tease him over it and instead placed soft kisses to his pecs. You’re moving up again and linger at his neck, nibbling it softly and leaving hickies that you know would unfortunately fade by morning. When you finally reach his face, you hover mere millimeters away and take in his expression. He’s an absolute mess.

His breath still hasn’t returned to him, but this time it was prevented by the overwhelming tenderness being physically given to him. Something he’s never experienced on this level before. You almost feel guilty that you didn’t show him sooner, but before you can think too much into it you pull yourself together. He lets out strangled noises as place kisses on his cheeks, then forehead, and finally his nose. You can only assume the noises are from the lack of your lips on his, but when you pull away to do so you realize you were wrong. You’re met with a heart-rending scene.

His pretty dark eyes are watery, and some tears have already fallen along the cheeks you just pressed your lips to. Your expression must show obvious surprise cause he frowns and more tears fall. His lips part as if he was going to speak up but you hush him, wrapping your arms around his neck as you finally place your lips to his. His hands plant themselves on your hips, he squeezes them a little roughly but you know it's to mentally ground himself so complaining doesn’t even cross your mind.

You two stay like this for some time, lips locked in a slow and passionate make out session, hands holding each other as close as physically possible. You finally pull away after some minutes, resting your forehead against his as you both stare lovingly into each other's eyes. The tears finally stopped falling but his eyes are still very glossy.

Your soft voice finally breaks the silence, as much as you want to continue your efforts, his well being is a million times more important. “You ok Binnie?” He takes a deep breath and chooses to nod instead of speaking up. You giggle and place kisses along his cheek again, giving him time to collect himself and finish catching his breath.

When he finally returns to his normal self he nuzzles himself into your neck and places his own kisses there. “Doing that to me during post nut clarity was so mean, Bunny. I’m gonna get you back for that tomorrow.” You laugh and pull away, bombarding his lips with soft kisses as a silent apology.

When you pull away, he speedingly kicks his pants away and tugs desperately at your shirt, “Why am I the only one naked, Bunny..” You smile and mumble an apology, tearing your clothes off before letting him lead you to the bed. You straddle him the second he lays down and his hands grab at the bottom of your ass cheeks, wanting to lift you so he can swap positions, but before he can do it you push his hands away. He gives you a confused pout as you push him down to lay on the bed, hovering yourself over his dick and leaning forward to press more kisses to his collarbone.

“Mmm.. ‘already told you I wanna spoil you tonight, Binnie. If you let me, I just wanna worship you for a bit..” He bites his lip and nods. “I promise if we do a round two I’ll let you take control. But, for now, let me spoil my God-like boyfriend to make up for all the other chances I missed.” He groans and throws his arms over his head, freeing his hold on you to let you take the reins.

He feels you smile into his skin and it manages to give him butterflies. He quickly gets lost in thought when you bury him in another pile of kisses. At this moment in time he’s finally realizing just how tightly he’s wrapped around your finger. The boys have teased him over it for months but he never fully saw it until now. He fears that if you would ask him to set the world on fire, he wouldn’t hesitate. It’s normally scary to love somebody that much. But as your kisses move between his neck, his pecs, his biceps, and his tummy… All he feels is pride. The man before you realizes in this very moment that he is in so much deeper than he thought he was.

It’s when you’re finally sinking down on him that he distances from thoughts surrounding his newfound awareness. He lets out a quiet moan at the feeling of you wrapped around him, and another at the sight of his beautiful lover sitting so prettily on his dick, biting their lip and looking down at him with such warmth in their eyes.

And you? You’re met with the sight of your beautiful boyfriend, the man you would drop everything in the world to marry and run away with, if he so asked. The man who does everything in his power to make you happy. The man who would, and has, done everything physically possible to keep you safe from the dangers outside of your shared apartment. As you grind down on him, you start to slip into your own thoughts. But the shine of his eyes starting to water again has you immediately stop your movements in worry.

But when the moans from him were replaced with whines and a distressed pout, you couldn’t dare to bring yourself to deny him of what he wants. Your hips start to lift and drop you onto him slowly. The two of you would normally be fucking like rabbits, but after everything that just happened there’s a silent agreement to take it slower tonight.

His hands grip tightly to your hips, helping you in the up and down movements as you lean down to be chest to chest with him. Your eyes lock and stare into one another’s for a few seconds before you fold first, leaning further into him for a kiss. Your movements would have stopped completely if it wasn’t for his hands doing the work now, grinding you against him slowly. The tears in his eyes finally go away just in time for him to watch you pull away, leaning back up to continue towards your goal. Then, just like earlier, you lose yourself in these efforts to please him and love on him. Your hips slap against each other in a slower rhythm that still gets the job done.

When he feels you clenching harder and notices your hips moving more messily, he moves his hands to grab your wrists and starts to thrust his hips up to meet yours. The fingers on both of your hands interlace with both of his, and this is how the two of you finish. Eyes, hands, and bodies locked together. When you don’t move to pull off him, he feels his chest swell with even more pride. However, this time caused by the split second idea of starting a family with you. The thought of settling down has crossed his mind before, but when you’re cumming like that above him after worshiping every inch of his skin you could get your hands on, the idea very quickly imprints itself into his brain.

You ride him for a little longer to make the highs last as long as possible, and when it's finally over, the two of you sit there in silence to catch your breaths. His hands grab your forearms to hold you in place as he sits up, then pulls you into another desperate but passionate kiss.

The two of you lay together; bodies tangled and lips locking together.

When he doesn’t lean back in for another kiss, and instead just stares at you with a smile on his face, you can tell he’s lost in thought. But based on the smile, you leave it be and just smile back. On his side of things, he decided to poke at you tomorrow to ask where this all came from all of the sudden. In the meantime though, he just lies and enjoys your warmth, reveling in the new objective he has for his life. The once comforting silence is broken when he mindlessly speaks about this new goal in his mind.

“Bunny?”

“Yes baby?”

“I’m gonna marry you one day.”

•⑅♡⑅•⑅♡⑅•⑅♡⑅•⑅♡⑅•⑅♡⑅•⑅♡⑅•⑅♡⑅•⑅♡⑅•⑅♡⑅•⑅♡⑅•

Nobody perceive me. I'm in shambles.

Taglist:

@jiminssluttyminx @changisworld @juskz

#oh what i would do to show this man how loved he is..#sian’s writing #changbin fluff #changbin smut #skz fluff #skz smut #changbin x reader #changbin x reader smut #skz x reader #stray kids smut #stray kids fluff #stray kids x reader smut

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notgeetoe · 16 hours

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one date | gojo satoru

the summer of july. The sun was out, and so were you, strolling the park with your best friend, geto. He snorted.

“Gojo keeps asking me to give your number to him. He’s getting kind of desperate now.”

You rolled your eyes, scoffing. “Man, does he ever stop. I’m not gonna be another one of his conquests.”

Geto swallowed, scratching his head awkwardly. “Erm, about that…” you looked at him, an eyebrow raised.

“I think he’s different this time.” He said, his eyebrows furrowed. You laughed dryly, looking at him.

“Wait- you’re not joking?”

Geto rolled his eyes. “Okay, please just go out with him once. I’ll buy you an ice cream. I’m tired of his begging.”

You grumbled, snatching his wallet as you walked to the ice cream shop.

“This is the last time im doing anything for you. Consider this a favour”

————————————————————————————

You checked your phone for the umpteenth time, the café’s bustling energy doing little to calm your nerves. You couldn’t believe you had agreed to this—meeting Gojo Satoru for a date. Sure, he was handsome and undeniably charming, but she had heard the stories. you knew his fuckboy reputation.

“Late, as usual,” you muttered under your breath, glancing at the door.

Right on cue, the café’s door swung open, and in strolled Gojo Satoru. His bright, almost otherworldly blue eyes, hidden behind his signature sunglasses, scanned the room. The moment he spotted you, a broad, confident grin spread across his face.

“Hey gorgeous” he called out, making his way toward her with long, casual strides. “Sorry, I’m late. There was a little…situation I had to handle.”

You rolled your eyes, crossing your arms over your chest. “A situation, huh? Do you expect me to believe that?”

Gojo chuckled, pulling out the chair across from you and sitting down. “Would you prefer I say I got caught up admiring my own reflection?”

You couldn’t help but smirk at that. “That’s more believable.”

He laughed, the sound warm and genuine, catching you off guard. “Touché. Anyway, I’m here now. What are we drinking?”

You hesitated for a moment, then sighed. “I already ordered. Just a latte for me.”

“Perfect.” Gojo waved the waiter over and ordered an espresso. As you waited, he leaned forward, resting his chin on his hand, and gave you his full attention. “So, tell me, why did you agree to this date if you’re clearly not interested?”

You raised an eyebrow. “Why do you think?”

“Because you’re intrigued,” he said simply, his smile never wavering. “Admit it, there’s a part of you that’s curious about me.”

you opened your mouth to deny it but found yourself closing it again. Instead, you took a sip of your latte, avoiding his gaze. “Maybe. Or maybe I got bribed with and ice cream and just wanted to see if you could actually hold a conversation that wasn’t all about you.”

He laughed again, a sound that seemed to brighten the room. “Fair enough. How about this? Let’s make a deal. If I can go the whole evening without talking about myself, you’ll agree to a second date.”

You narrowed your eyes, contemplating the challenge. “And if you fail?”

“Then I leave you alone,” he said with a playful wink. “Deal?”

“Deal.”

——————————————

You couldn't help but laugh as you watched Gojo struggle with the roller skates. You had decided on a retro-themed roller rink for your second date, a suggestion from Gojo that had sounded both fun and disastrous.

"Are you sure you know how to do this?" You asked, skating backward effortlessly while he wobbled in place.

"Absolutely," Gojo replied with a determined nod. "It's just been…a few years."

"Uh-huh, a few years," you teased. "More like a few lifetimes, Grandpa."

He attempted a graceful glide forward, only to flail wildly and crash into a nearby wall. The impact sent him tumbling to the floor in a heap of flailing limbs. You giggled, skating over to him.

Gojo, undeterred, grinned up at you from the floor. "Glad I could amuse you. Maybe you can give me a hand?"

Still chuckling, you skated over and offered your hand. He took it, only to have him pull you down with him. You landed in a tangled heap, snickering even harder.

Gojo grinned, his eyes twinkling with mischief. "Looks like you just fell for me"

"Oh, please," you groaned, playfully shoving him. "You're terrible."

"Terribly charming," he corrected, standing up and helping her to her feet.

"I gotta admit, pretending to suck just so i can feel you near me has got to be one of my most genius plans" He grinned, suddenly skating expertly.

You rolled your eyes, biting back a smile as you both walked over to the drinks bar, the breeze whipping back your hair.

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gilbirda · 1 day

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Friendly neighborhood vigilante. Chapter 26

BatmanxDP crossover. JasonxJazz

[Read on AO3] [Read on FF.net]

Based on this post

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---

The rest of the visit at the Wayne Manor was more relaxed, or at least Jason thought so. He wouldn’t forget Jazz’s tense shoulders while they listened to Danny’s explanation of Jazz’s actual role in the Infinite Realms.

Was she tense because she hated being an executioner? Because she found that dreadful?

He wasn’t sure, and the doubt was capable of consuming him — did she really understand him, what he tried to do for Gotham, or was she projecting her own insecurities in him and wanted him to “reform” like she seemed to be doing with herself? Because it didn’t escape him how she went from such a violence-heavy role to completely focusing on reforming Gotham rogues.

If all Jazz could see in him was a pet project to “fix” in any way, he knew it would completely crush him. After all they’ve been through, there was still doubt that any of this was real. That what they had was real.

No. He had to try. To believe.

He still felt shaken after the rapidfire revelations one after the other — Jazz was the Crown Princess of another dimension, the Spirit of Gotham was Bruce’s mom, Jazz’s actual job was scarily close to his, and the personification of fear wanted to marry his girlfriend. He knew he would be thinking about all of this, and come back to every little detail, that night while he was supposed to sleep.

He just knew.

Especially because when he closed his eyes, he could see Danny’s haunted eyes when he pulled him aside to talk.

He expected a shovel talk, he expected vague threats from a caring brother, or maybe a rundown of what it means to consort a Princess.

He didn’t expect what actually happened.

“My sister… Please keep an eye on her. I wasn’t kidding when I said she takes the bad stuff and deals with it on her own,” he smirked, acknowledging that he knew the couple had been eavesdropping, “but what I didn’t say is how she disregards her own wellbeing.”

“I’ve noticed.”

He shook his head. “You don’t understand. Jazz self-destructs, she… It’s almost as if she punishes herself for wanting more. Maybe, I don’t know, maybe I’m reading too much into it; but she is always so quick to accept the worst and plans for it without thinking that things could just… Work out. It doesn’t help that things have been hard for us for so long – self fulfilled prophecy?” He chuckled. “I’m more aware of things than she gives me credit for.”

Jason kept his gaze straight ahead, watching the rest play in the backyard, a tiny green dog — Cujo — running around and imprinting on Damian almost immediately.

“She loves you.”

“I know.”

“She lied to me for you.” Danny looked at him funny. “I’m not saying it's your fault or anything. Just observing. She was ready to face the Justice League over a misunderstanding rather than telling the truth.”

Danny hummed, storing the new piece of information.

“She would make rivers of blood to protect you.”

Danny stayed quiet, so quiet that Jason assumed the conversation was over.

“She already has.” Danny’s voice was small. “One time, she was sent with an entourage as a political representative to an ambivalent community, to negotiate their alliance. Or find out if they would support Vlad. She came back a few weeks later, alone, and covered in blood. She only said that we didn’t need to worry about those people anymore.

Her wounds were fatal, and we don’t know how she not only survived but made the trip back. The funny part? I think that incident marks the beginning of her descent into the executioner role she finally took. It was almost as if— She was changed. I could see it. My worries were confirmed when I got word that the city she had visited had been burned to the ground. No one ever found any remains, of either faction. Just blood and rubble.”

“Darling?”

“Hmm?”

He looked down, finding the teal eyes of his girlfriend. It was the same face, the same eyes, the same worried expression.

A few weeks ago, she was the woman he was so scared to reveal himself to. Now, she was so much more. It felt silly to worry about what she would think about his other life, how she went from “just” being the girl he was interested in to whatever they were now.

He couldn’t see her in the same way. Not after learning what he knew now.

“Are you okay?” Her cold hand was on his cheek. When did she move? “You’ve been quiet.”

He kicked himself in his mind for worrying her. It’s just… After saying their goodbyes and getting on the road back to their apartment building, he started to let his mind wander and hadn’t come back to the present yet.

They were in front of her door, the fluorescent lights illuminating Jazz’s face looking up at him.

“Sorry.”

She bit her lip. “Don’t say sorry. No blood, no fault.”

“Har har,” he smirked, leaning down for a quick kiss. “Smart-ass.”

She giggled. All thoughts and doubts left him as he let himself bask in the moment.

He leaned in for a kiss, smiling when she got on the tip of her toes to meet him halfway, her arms sneaking around his neck to keep him there.

Her kiss was the same. Her smell was the same. Her touch, and the way his hands fit on her waist, was the same.

She was the same person, he reminded himself. Even if every answer he got only opened more questions, Jazz was still here with him, and she still wanted him.

The door opened behind Jazz, and Jason had to quickly grab the door frame to prevent the pair from falling to the ground.

“Time to sleep.” Danny was there, arms crossed, a small smirk on his face. He enjoyed his sister’s grumble and annoyance. The little shit.

“Yeah, yeah.” She sighed, turning to look at her boyfriend. “Talk to you tomorrow?”

She looked so uncertain and hopeful. Did she think he would run?

“Of course.” He gave her another quick kiss, smiling when she giggled.

He nodded at Danny as they parted. He nodded back, his smirk turning something more dangerous for a second, but back to a normal smile when Jazz passed by as she went inside the apartment.

Jason stayed an extra second, waiting to see what Danny had to say.

“Goodnight, Jason.”

He arched an eyebrow, expecting anything but that. He took it anyway. “Goodnight.”

With that, Danny almost slammed the door shut in his face. Jason scoffed and went back to his own apartment, still reeling from everything that happened.

He only turned on the kitchen light, got some coffee started — if he wasn’t going to sleep, why the hell not — and opened the fridge to see what leftovers he could quickly reheat for dinner.

With a warm cup and some food, he sat down on his shitty couch and turned on the TV to have background noise to think and organize his thoughts. It was some stupid procedural show, mainly focused on criminal psychology, something he knew Jazz would love.

He chuckled, sighed and put the half eaten leftovers on the coffee table.

He wasn’t that hungry anymore.

Why did he feel like this? It didn’t make sense — it wasn’t like it was the first time he was involved with people with superhuman abilities and a complicated past. Back when he was Robin, he had gone with Bruce to the Watchtower more than once and met enough members of the Justice League. And after his resurrection he had been involved with the Al Ghuls, who were irreversibly affected by the Lazarus Pits.

No. This was different.

Jazz was… She was supposed to be a civilian. The one normal thing in his life. He agonized over telling her about his other life, but deep down he wanted to have something that made him feel less like he was adrift in life, drowning, feeling like his only purpose had become vigilantism.

He wasn’t stupid. Jazz’s status as a meta was something he knew early on, and the way she had been hinting at some kind of hero's life was ironic, but he could handle it.

I couldn’t give you normal even if I tried.

She warned him. She told him she wasn’t sure that their relationship should happen at all. She told him she risked a lot to be involved with him, and that it wasn’t in her plans at all to love him.

He’s different. We clicked.

She told Danny that what they had was different, and he believed her.

Crown Princess of the Infinite Realms. Warrior. Executioner.

Jazz had no place playing human in Gotham, making friends, enduring shitty bosses, having a human boyfriend.

What he understood from what the siblings explained, her actual life was a fantasy story like the ones from his childhood books – with Kings and dragons and magic and insane stakes.

A tiny part of him resented her, he discovered.

Jason leaned forward and put his head between his hands, the stupid show on TV forgotten.

Why did she involve him in this? She knew the kind of burden she would put on anybody she dated, at least anybody she was interested enough to involve in her true life. How could she think she could just give him hopes and love him and then… then what? Did she plan on leaving without an explanation when her internship ended? Was she okay with breaking up, making up a shitty excuse to feed him hoping he eventually forgot about her?

She said she planned on telling him, but how much really? How much would she have told him if Bruce didn’t poke things he wasn’t supposed to?

He refused to feel grateful about what the old man did, he still treated Jazz poorly and jeopardized a lot of people’s existence in Gotham; but it was difficult to let go of the thought that if Barbara hadn’t looked, if Bruce hadn’t confronted her like he had been too much of a coward to do… That Jazz would have fed him half truths and lies by omission to protect Danny up until the day they parted ways.

His eyes felt a little damp. He blinked the moisture away and pressed the palm of his hands against his eyes until he saw stars.

No. This is ridiculous.

Jazz was very smart in many ways — she guessed everyone’s secret identities after all — but she could be so dumb about so many things too. He remembered their fight, how her voice changed when she admitted she didn’t know why or how she loved him. He thought about how she could remain oblivious to a guy crushing on her for years. He thought about Danny’s admission that Jazz tended to be too harsh on herself and set unnecessary hard limits.

He could believe that Jazz’s living in Gotham was a little experiment, a game of pretend that she was going to eventually end no matter who was hurt in the process, or…

Or he could believe that she was winging it so hard she contradicted herself all the time. That she was used to putting others above herself so much that she didn’t consider the possibility she didn’t have to end things. That there was no game, no further motives, no plan.

That the Princess of the Ghosts loved him, and she felt as lost as he did.

He breathed in, trying to calm down his racing thoughts.

It was useless to ponder and guess what her motives were, if she had them at all. They said they’d enjoy what they had while they still could, and going by what they learned that day, Danny gave the OK for them to be together — in a very strange and convoluted way, that is. And from what he overheard, Danny was this all powerful entity that made the rules.

A loud thud interrupted his thoughts, followed by his girlfriend’s voice screaming Danny’s name.

He smiled, picking up his food and considering finishing the rest of it. It was probably cold, so he decided not to. Instead, he picked up his coffee and the remote and decided to change channels, looking for something that didn’t require a lot of brainpower and maybe fall asleep to.

It didn’t help that everything either reminded him of Jazz, or thought it was something she’d enjoy.

***

Sunday was uneventful.

He decided to sleep in, pushing away the thought that sleeping alone never felt so cold before. He was being ridiculous. Everything about the situation was ridiculous.

He stayed in bed as long as his hungry stomach allowed him to, going over every conversation, every touch, every look. Trying to organize the new information and memorize every piece of detail, unsure of when exactly he’d have another opportunity to gather so much about the siblings’ secrets.

He allowed himself a few moments to burn the visual of Jazz wearing her armor in his memory. She looked comfortable in it, powerful, and very inhuman. Nobody brought it up at the moment, but she glowed when she wore it. It was subtle under the daylight, and next to the living light bulb that was Danny in his King form she didn’t stand out; but he had been distracted by the way everything about her had a bit of supernatural glow that separated her from the humans in the room.

It was different knowing all he knew and seeing it for himself.

Liminality. He wondered what else he still had to learn about her. What else he had to learn about himself, too. Going by how much information the Fentons gave him and after… After Jazz gave him pure ectoplasm, he was sure to expect some kind of change.

He hoped he found time to talk to Danny about the topic, and maybe coordinate a visit to these yetis they kept talking about.

The situation was ridiculous, but might as well embrace it. He had been The Chosen One for a secret sect of warriors oathbound to rid the world of an ancient evil — he could take whatever The Infinite Realms threw at him.

The rest of the day was relatively quiet, if you take into consideration the noises coming from his neighbor’s apartment — seriously, what were the walls made of? Paper? — and Jazz and Danny’s voices when they left in the afternoon for dinner. Jazz texted him a few times asking how he was and sending a few pictures of stray cats she saw while out with Danny. It was cute.

But he also had messages from his goons that they had some information about the Black Clovers gang. Finally.

He informed them that he would be around the base to discuss what they found. They better have something good, because he really needed to get these guys out of his turf. They threatened Jazz. Well, not her specifically, but they were looking for a redhead woman that helped Red Hood, with the vague description those guys Jazz fought a few months ago gave.

So long had changed since that fateful day. For starters, it was imperative he stopped these guys from going after his girlfriend.

And he couldn’t tell her.

Jazz was dead set on trying to be normal. She came to Gotham deadset (heh) on living a normal civilian life, and she got involved in this mess because of him. She didn't need to worry about something like this, especially since he was going to make sure the Black Clovers never had a chance to find her if he could help it.

He ate a quick dinner and got ready for tonight, geared up and jumped out of the window to the adjacent rooftop — he spared a glance at the place from where he had watched Jazz like a creep for a whole afternoon. What an idiot he had been, suspecting her like that. He shook his head.

He looked down at the street when he heard approaching voices, finding Jazz and Danny walking towards the apartment, probably coming back from their dinner.

Jazz looked happy as she listened to her brother talk, nodding along his story and a small smile curving her lips. This was a side he hadn’t seen yet — how she carried herself differently than when she was alone, how she kept one eye in every dark corner, every shadow. She was Danny’s protector, even if the other probably didn’t need such protection.

Both stopped walking once they reached the entrance of the building, but instead of getting inside, the siblings looked up – looked at him — at the same time with the same eerie eyes reflecting the street lights like a cat’s.

He chuckled, waving a hand at both. Danny rolled his eyes and Jazz waved back with a big smile, her cheeks slightly red. Cute.

With a slight nod, he turned back to continue his way to his base, and did his best to not look back and check she was still looking at him.

***

Jazz held her gaze on the rooftop, waiting to see if he turned back, but he never did.

She sighed.

“You are ridiculous.”

She rolled her eyes at her brother. “Oh, shut up.”

“This is worse to watch than the thing with Johnny.”

“Johnny happened so long ago, don’t be an idiot.” Danny opened his mouth to protest. “Eh, eh, eh. I was sixteen. You can’t judge me.”

“And you judged me for Paulina.”

She lifted her chin. “Deserved it~”

Danny scoffed, but didn’t add anything else.

The walk to the elevator was quiet. Jazz played with her keys, wondering where Jason was going, and if she could wait up and see if she could glimpse the vigilante passing by on his patrol route. Maybe she was being ridiculous, feeling this giddy about her boyfriend.

“Jazz.”

She looked at her brother, humming in question.

He looked back with serious eyes. “We need to talk.” She blinked, not really knowing what warranted this. “You have to tell me what happened with Batman.”

She froze, but tried to play it cool. She made time walking out of the elevator when they got to her floor, and continued towards her apartment without saying anything.

“Jazz. You know you have to.”

“There’s not a lot to say — he found some documents and I tried to fill in the blanks as best as I could.”

Danny grabbed her hand when she pulled out her keys to open the door. “Bullshit.” She wasn’t sure what kind of face she was making, but Danny’s expression softened. “I need to know, Jazz. As your brother and as the King.”

She closed her eyes and nodded.

He let her go and open the door, walking in after her. Neither bothered with the light switch, allowing the soft light of the full moon coming from the curtainless window to be enough for their conversation.

Jazz felt a sensation of déjà vu when she sat down on her couch and Danny pulled a chair to sit across the coffee table. It was another apartment, another situation; but she still had to give explanations about roughly the same things.

When would this nightmare end?

She licked her lips and got ready to talk.

“It started last week. Jason and I went on a date — our first official date —” she smiled when her brother made a face “and it was in the middle of a massive Arkham breakout.”

Danny nodded. “Unsurprising.”

“Yeah. So, he needed to go back to the fight and our date was interrupted. I waited up — no, shut up, let me finish — and he finally showed up. He was half dead and losing it and I really thought he was done for.”

“And you used your vials.”

“I did, and he got better.” She nodded. “But Batman wasn’t that far behind. He found us, and he found out I knew about them, and we… we kind of had a fight.”

“You fought Batman?” Danny was amused.

“No… Not really. I managed to kick him out without an actual fight, but he just,” she pulled her hair back, frustrated, “he couldn’t let things go. Apparently, he and Oracle — yeah, that Oracle —” she nodded “joined forces and researched us. All of it, Danny. I don’t know how the Ancients they managed to get some of that stuff, I’m positive Tucker had tight security.”

Danny’s back straightened. “He does. He was.” He narrowed his eyes. This was a huge breach of security. Both knew that measurements will be taken about this. “Tell me everything.”

She leaned forward, placing her arms on her knees, looking down and avoiding her brother’s eyes.

“Batman — Bruce waited for me, and found me at Arkham, when I would be alone, and ambushed me with two more of their colony accompanying him.”

Danny’s eyes were glowing bright green when she looked up. She swallowed. After such a nice weekend she had to relive all that happened earlier in the week, and she feared his reaction.

“Go on. And spare no detail.”

---

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twstowo · 13 hours

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They End Up In a Universe Where The Two Of You Hate Each Other [Riddle pt.2]

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗SYNOPSIS: As Riddle takes his time to fix his other self's mistakes, the two of you slowly bond during your visits to check on him. However, one day you find yourself worrying more than you ever thought you would about him when another assassin is sent to try and finish what you couldn't.

♡︎This took me so long to write! I'M SO SORRY!!

[AU Masterlist] ☆ [Enemies] ☆ [To Friends] ☆ [To Lovers]

Keeping his word, Riddle worked to change the laws, his behaviors, and his relationships with the people around him. Despite making progress, there were still those who doubted his actions. He continued to hear whispers from the maids, questioning why a tyrant like him would turn into such a good person out of nowhere. This took a toll on Riddle, as in this world, he didn’t have anyone’s help. He felt completely alone.

"Why the long face?" He turned to face you, not expecting your presence. The memory of the day you first met lingered in his mind. The agreement you made still resonated – every week, on a random day, you would appear. If he had made progress, a pat on the back would be his reward. However, if he ever reverted to his tyrant ways, you vowed to end him. Not the most conventional way to forge a friendship, but Riddle grasped that this wasn’t the you he knew from his own universe. “Thinking about going back on your words?” The venom in those words was palpable, you were testing him.

“Absolutely not! I would never go back on my word!” He felt almost offended. He, Riddle Rosehearts would rather die than go back on his word! May the Queen of Hearts herself off his head if he ever dares to even think about such a thing.

He observed as you leaned against the rails of the balcony outside his window, dressed in black clothes perfect for blending into the darkness of the night. Your face tilted upwards as you watched the sky, and Riddle swore that this was the first time you ever stayed that long in your weekly visits. Most of the time, as he had already mentioned, you would knock on his window, almost giving him a heart attack. Afterwards, you would simply nod at him with an unfazed face and leave him alone.

“They have been talking ill of you,” you state, tilting your head sideways while staring at him. His eyes widened as he understood the implications of those words. What could he even do to make everyone change their minds about him? “Don’t let them get you down, you are doing an amazing work.” And then he gasped.

Did you just praise him? A faint blush grasped his cheeks, and you noticed the way he had reacted to your words, chuckling at him, making him even more of a mess. Trying to hide it, he lowers his face to the side and crosses his arms.

You can’t help but wonder about the fact that you made the king of the Queendom blush with such simple words. Could someone like that truly deserve the title of a tyrant? But you don’t want to think much about that, after all, looks could be deceiving. The small moment of silence makes you realize something. There is a strange aura of calmness around the two of you. It’s not like you are friends, you still hate him for the things he did to your people, the way he and his mother treated everyone you loved so dearly.

You take a glance at him, his eyes still glued to the side of the balcony. He is deep in thoughts, and you can sense that he wants to tell you something. However, you find that his overall nice attitude towards you is taking a strange toll on you. You fear that if you stay, you might actually want to talk with him, just like friends do, and that is something you can’t allow yourself to do. To befriend your enemy. But how dumb do those words sound when you think about them. Didn’t you give him a chance to redeem himself? You had the simple task of killing him, but you had to turn soft. You had to back down, you had to believe that no one is truly evil. So, with those racing thoughts, you leave as fast and silently as possible.

“I have wanted to ask for a good time now,” Riddle starts talking, still looking sideways, “If you’d be fine with ever sharing a cup of-” And when he turns to look at you, he sees the spot you used to be empty. You had vanished just as fast as you had arrived. Even though Riddle understands that you aren’t here to be his friend, he can’t stop himself from wanting to spend time with you, just like the two of you used to back in his universe.

──── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ────

Some weeks had passed since you found yourself walking around the streets of your hometown. You were enjoying a nice day off, savoring some long-awaited alone time when one of your old friends ran up to you, and their words sent chills down your spine. They had sent someone else to kill Riddle because you hadn’t done it.

You never thought you’d end up feeling this way towards someone you were supposed to hate, but the thought of finding Riddle dead if you weren’t fast enough to stop the new assassin made you almost want to throw up. By now, you were close enough to reach his balcony, so worried that you didn’t even notice some of the guards running after you. You didn’t have time for them—Riddle was in danger.

As you entered the castle, you ran towards the garden area where Riddle tended to be around this time. When you spotted him, you felt all the weight leave your body. He turned towards you with a surprised expression, and that’s when you saw a strange person running in his direction.

Everything else happened in slow motion for you. Your feet ran in the direction of the stranger, your voice screamed Riddle’s name as he looked back, and he dodged the dagger by millimeters as you pulled the assassin down to the floor with you.

The guards raided the garden, seizing both the man who had come to kill Riddle and you. There were too many for you to escape as they pulled you down to the ground as well.

“Stop it!” you heard Riddle shouting, and his voice sent chills down your spine. He had this authoritarian tone you had never heard before; with you, he always seemed so sweet and kind. “They saved my life. Unhand them right now.” Without even questioning him, all the guards let go of you as Riddle approached, offering you a hand to stand up.

──── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ────

After that day, you were formally invited to the castle at least twice a week, where you and Riddle would spend time together. Riddle would always send you a letter inviting you to have tea with him, just the two of you in the gardens with the hedgehogs.

“I didn’t know you were into cute animals.” Your sudden comment almost made Riddle spit his tea as his eyes widened.

“I-…” He didn’t know how to respond, and you found the situation so funny that you started laughing, having once again rendered the King of the Queendom speechless. He was just a silly guy at heart. “Is there a problem with that?”

“No, not at all…I guess it makes sense…” He eyed you with a questioning expression, not understanding what you were trying to imply. “You know, cute guys like cute things.”

“Y/N!!??” Oh, how you loved to see him flustered. Maybe getting along with Riddle hadn’t been such a bad idea after all.

#twst #twisted wonderland #disney twst #twst wonderland #disney twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #twst reader #twst x reader #x reader #riddle rosehearts #riddle rosehearts x reader #twst riddle #riddle x reader

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meiliarotten · 1 day

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Team Fortress 2 Kinktober Time: Return of the Kink

Day 14: Correction (Spanking)

🔞MINORS DNI🔞

Pairings: Spy x Gender Neutral!Reader

Summary: Your battlefield shenanigans are getting out of hand, and Spy decides to do something about it.

Tags: Spanking, Dom/Sub, bratty reader, masochism, hair pulling, edging, teasing, aftercare

Word Count: 3.4k

The Masterlist

“So… you’ve been chain smoking ever since we got off the battlefield. And that was an hour ago.”

Spy barely acknowledged you, simply proving your point by lighting a fresh cigarette with the embers of the last one. You sat uncomfortably in a chair across from him, a chess set laying untouched between the two of you. “I mean, I know this is called a smoking room for a reason, but this,” you gestured towards the cloud of wispy gray smoke that had formed above the two of you, “Is a bit much, don’t you think?”

Honestly, if it weren’t for the effects of the Medigun you were certain Spy would have literally every kind of respiratory illness by now. All of the lung cancer, all of the emphysema. All of it.

Another moment of silence stretched out for an eternity before you let out an annoyed huff. Getting up from your chair, you walked right over to Spy, leaning against the arm of his chair and fixing him with the sweetest expression you could muster. “Do you want to talk about it?”

Spy sighed, a cloud of smoke passing his lips before he responded, still refusing to look at you. “You really are dense sometimes, my dear.”

“Damn. Alright then,” you said, put off by his obtuse, and frankly, insulting response. You moved to return to your own seat but Spy grabbed your arm.

“Non, non! Come, sit.” You let him pull you into his lap. His tone sounded apologetic. You made yourself comfortable, straddling him. He snuffed out the cigarette in a nearby ashtray.

“So, what’s wrong?” you asked again, hoping for a more direct answer this time.

Spy took a deep breath. “Darling, you know I love you.”

“I am very lovable.”

“And you know that I will always be honest with you.”

“Oh no.” You recognized that tone and those words. What followed was usually some kind of critique, and what’s worse, it was almost always a valid critique- the worst kind of all.

Spy went on. “Which is why it is my responsibility to say that your battlefield performance today was, in a word, abysmal.”

“Ouch.” You pouted, batting your lashes at him. He remained unaffected by your antics, continuing with barely a pause.

“It was not just today, either. You have been inattentive, and more so, you’ve made yourself a distraction for me as well!”

“It’s just a bit of flirting. It’s fun!” You were actually a bit surprised at this. You had been under the assumption that Spy was a sucker for stolen kisses in concealed corners or subtle, yet tender touches between checkpoints.

“It is fun for you, but your ‘flirting’ has cost us several battles in the past month alone!” Spy knew he wasn’t completely innocent either. His responses only encouraged your behavior, but you were always the inviting factor, so it was only fair that you bared most of the blame.

“It’s not my fault you make backstabbing look so hot.” You pouted, arms crossed indignantly. “Besides, I thought you liked having my eyes on you.”

Spy took a deep breath, trying to be patient with you, no matter how difficult you were making that endeavor. “Even when you are being insolent, you somehow manage to be charming,” he admitted. “But even so, I can not allow myself to become infatuated with your faults.”

“What is that supposed to mean?” you asked.

“Darling, it is our duty as lovers to bring out the best in each other, and sometimes that involves a bit of correction.”

Correction? Seriously? You scoffed, rolling your eyes. “What are you going to do, spank me?” Spy paused. He paused for a very long time. “Spy?”

“Perhaps I should.”

“What? Spy, I was joking! You’re actually considering it?” you said, stammering.

“Oh no, my dear, I’m not considering it. I have already decided.” He said, giving you a stern look that made you want to shrink away into the nearest wall. “Bend over my desk.”

You didn’t get a chance to protest before he pushed you off his lap. You rushed to get back on your feet, stumbling slightly. “Spy, what the hell are you doing?” you asked, glancing at the desk in disbelief.

“I believe I was quite clear.”

“You can’t be serious!” you said, exasperated and baffled by the situation that was unfolding before you.

Spy took you by the chin, tilting your head up to meet his gaze. “You are being a petulant little brat.”

You bristled. “I am not!” Ironically, that may have been the most ‘bratty’ thing you could have said at the moment.

The two of you stared at each other for a while, stuck in a kind of stand off before Spy sighed and his gaze softened. “Are you truly uncomfortable with this, darling?” he asked. “I won’t do anything to you that you do not agree to.”

“No, it’s not like I’m scared of a little pain.” You thought it over for a moment. Once your initial shock had been pushed aside, it didn’t really seem all that bad. “It’s just kind of humiliating.”

“Of course. Punishment must by necessity be at least a little unpleasant.”

Well, you supposed that made sense, and even you had to admit that some of your actions had cost you some pretty vital battles over the past few days. Everyone had been in a less than pleasant mood because of it, and if there was a chance this unconventional method of ‘correction’ could end your team’s streak of losses, then it was worth a shot. A few swats to your ass couldn’t be that difficult to endure, right?

“I’ll do it, if it’ll make you feel like you’ve ‘fulfilled your duty as a lover,’ or whatever,” you said, struggling not to roll your eyes as you quoted his own words back at him. You turned, bending over the desk and shifting your weight side to side. You craned your neck to shoot him a wicked smile. “You can even enjoy the view while your at it-”

The first spank came down hard before you could finish your sentence. You cut yourself off with a shout, covering your mouth the moment the sound escaped you. Your face flushed, embarrassed at how strongly you had reacted. Spy grinned, however his tone remained even and calm, almost nonchalant.

“I believe ten swats will be sufficient, assuming we don’t have to start over.” Before you could ask what exactly would require him to start over, a second spank made you jump. Instinctively, you tried to squirm away from the impact. Spy’s other hand immediately pressed down on the small of your back, keeping you in place. “Stay still, darling. Reste calme. This will be easier if you obey.”

“Fuck, this is ridiculous,” you said, trying to distract yourself by seeing the humor in this situation. Spy delivered a third spank without hesitation. You were more prepared for it this time, biting your lip hard to keep from crying out again.

“Perhaps I need to curb that snarky mouth of yours as well,” he said, clearly unamused with your commentary. Having not learned your lesson, you opened your mouth to speak once again, only for your words to turn into a harsh moan as a fourth swat rained down on you. A fifth left you gripping the edges of the desk.

“That’s it, hold on if you must. You’re taking this quite well for your first time receiving such punishment.” That was the first bit of praise Spy had offered you since starting this whole ordeal. “We’re halfway done now.”

“Only half?” Your voice trembled. You weren’t sure why this was affecting you so much. It hurt, yes, but you had endured pain far worse. This should not have been making you shudder and whine. It was only upon the sixth swat that you found yourself squeezing your thighs together, your eyes going wide as you finally recognized that familiar feeling blossoming between your hips.

On the seventh, you began to pray that Spy would interpret your moans as sounds of pain, because there was no holding them back anymore. You pressed your forehead against the desk, clamping your lower lip between your teeth in a feeble attempt to quiet yourself. That only resulted in your moans turning into shaky whimpers as you rode out the final moments of your punishment.

There was no denying that you were quite disappointed when it ended. You stayed bent over the desk for a while, hiding your bereft expression from view. Spy’s hand still rested on the small of your back, a small assurance that he was still there. He stayed quiet, letting you sit up at your own pace. When you did finally get up your eyes remained glued to the desk for a while as you tried to quell your arousal.

“Look at me.” Spy’s words were soft, but stern. Reluctantly, you turned to face him, hoping against hope that your blush had calmed down, even though the heat in your cheeks proved otherwise. You were met with a surprisingly tender smile and Spy reached out to brush his thumb over your chin. “You did wonderfully, my darling. Come, let me kiss you.”

Now that was an order you were eager to follow. You pressed your lips to his, gripping the lapels of his suit, pulling him close. Your bodies were flush against each other, but it still didn’t feel close enough. You wanted him inside you, you wanted it so badly it hurt- or maybe that was just the lingering sting from your punishment. Whatever it was, it caused tears to prick at the corners of your eyes. When you finally broke for air, your gasp came out as more of a sob that you tried and failed to stifle.

“It’s alright, don’t hold back,” Spy whispered, moving from your lips to kiss your cheek, wiping a tear away with his thumb. “Crying is natural after such an experience.”

You sniffed, trying to keep some composure even as tears fell and dotted the expensive fabric of Spy’s suit. He took off the jacket, letting it drape off the edge of a nearby chair. You weren’t sure why, but some strange combination between the lingering sting of the spanks and the sight of Spy removing his clothing sparked something in you. Without thinking, you began to tug at the buttons of his undershirt.

Spy made a soft sound of surprise, but you kissed him before he could say another word. You didn’t want any interruptions, not yet. Still, you eventually had to draw back for air. Spy chuckled as you unfastened the final button, splaying your hands over his chest. “I’m starting to think this was a bit too enjoyable for you, mon amour.” You shushed him, raking your nailed down his chest. He gasped, but quickly regained his composure. “I wasn’t aware I had a masochist on my hands. I would have chosen a different method of punishment otherwise-”

You kissed him hard, shutting him up once again. Clumsily, you began to pull at his belt and slacks. You were working blindly, but slowly, the belt came loose. Spy jerked against you roughly when you finally wrapped a hand around his cock. You weren’t gentle, pumping him fast and feeling him harden in your grasp. He moaned against your mouth and you felt a hint of pride at getting such a reaction out of him, no matter how brief. Your little power trip wasn’t going to last long, though.

Gloved fingers tangled into your hair. You hummed, enjoying the gentle touch on your scalp, until Spy suddenly tightened his grip and pulled hard. Your head tilted back and you winced.

“Ouch! God, what was that for?” you asked, glaring at him and rubbing the back of your head.

“I was just reminding you who is in charge here.” Without another word, Spy leaned in to kiss your now exposed neck. You shivered, feeling him suck the skin hard before pressing his lips tenderly against the new red mark. He was going to leave bruises, you were certain of it.

With a huff, you pulled away, feeling his hold on your hair loosen enough for you to move. “Fine,” you said, turning around to face the desk again. You leaned over, bracing yourself on your elbows and swaying your hips subtly. “Go on, take charge, Sir.”

Spy laughed, but you also caught the slightest hitch in his breath. You knew he loved it when you referred to him with such authority. A well placed ‘Yes sir’ was a weakness of his that you often took advantage of. Your pants and underwear were quickly yanked down, leaving your lower half exposed. You held back a whimper as Spy began to caress your still very sore ass.

“Such a lovely red,” he said, speaking as if he was admiring a work of art. You had no doubt the red he spoke of was akin to the hue adorning your face as well. You leaned your forehead on the desk, hoping the coolness of the wood would ease the flush.

It was only when you felt a finger prodding at you that you lifted your head. Your eyes went wide and you almost laughed when you realized the finger was noticeably slick. “What the hell?” you said, realizing what the substance was. “Do you just happen to carry lube on you at all times?”

Your question was me with a soft chuckle. Spy leaned over, placing the bottle right next to you upon the desk. Sure enough, it was small enough to easily fit within the pockets of his suit jacket. “With a lover as ravenous as you, one must be prepared.” His touch left you and you heard him moan as he slickened his cock, pumping it a few times before lining up to your entrance. You tried to grind against him, but he pulled away with a huff. “Control yourself, darling.”

He pushed in at a painfully slow pace. When he finally hilted inside you he stopped, holding himself there. His hands wandered from your hips up to your waist. You squirmed and whined. “Come on, move! Move, please!” The grip on your waist tightened, and you went quiet.

“This is the kind of behavior that we just dealt with, my dear. I won’t say it again- be patient.” You scowled, mostly because you knew he was right. He was giving you time to adjust. The last thing you needed was to hurt yourself. That was a type of injury you most certainly wouldn’t want to explain to Medic.

So, you muffled your complaints, biting your knuckles until you felt Spy begin to reward your display of restraint. His hands tightened around your waist again, but not in warning. It turned out you just made for great leverage as he began to thrust faster. “Fuck,” you gasped, feeling his hips smack against your ass.

“You’re still sensitive.” Spy ground his hips against you, making you whimper. “But you enjoy how it feels, don’t you? The pain mingled with the pleasure. You enjoyed being spanked.”

You opened your mouth to respond, but all that came out was a scream when another swat suddenly came down on your ass. You clamped your hands over your mouth in shock, certain that if anyone was nearby, perhaps even down the hall outside the smoking room, they would have heard you.

“Oh my, who knew you could make a sound like that?” Spy said. You could practically hear the smirk on his face from the way he spoke. “My very own bratty little masochist. I should have known you would like this.”

He was going faster. You weren’t even sure when he began to speed up, or when you had laid out flat against the desk. At some point your arms had buckled under you, leaving your cheek pressed against the hardwood. You hoped you weren’t drooling too much. That would be even more embarrassing than the high pitched shrieks that followed every fresh swat that Spy delivered. It was so much more intense without the barrier of clothing in the way.

After a while, even the embarrassment began to fade. You felt high on the pleasure, high on the pain. You weren’t sure which you liked better. Perhaps it was the combination of the two contrasting sensations that created this unique, foggy, dream-like state you found yourself in. You never wanted to lose this feeling. Your whole body was beginning to feel hot, overwhelmingly hot, and a familiar, tight coiling in your stomach signaled that your climax was fast approaching. All good things must come to an end at some point.

You clawed uselessly at the desk, scrambling for purchase on anything within your reach until Spy’s hands clamped around your wrists, pinning them. “Try not to scratch up my desk, love.”

“Spy, I’m close!” You weren’t even sure if Spy would be able to understand you through your moans. “Fuck, I’m so close, please!”

“Do you think you deserve it?”

Spy’s response stumped you, and you began to stammer. “What? What do you mean?”

“You heard me, darling. I already warned you, I will not repeat myself.”

You shuddered. Spy’s pace had slowed again. He was keeping you right on the edge. Your body screamed for release, but even now, you knew it was a release that you hadn’t earned. “I don’t,” you sobbed. “I don’t deserve it, but I can be good! I’ll earn it, just please, please let me come, sir!” The words coming out of your mouth should have humiliated you, but you didn’t care. All you cared about was that promised blissful feeling that was being held just out of arm's reach, so close you could practically taste it.

“At least you are capable of honesty.” You barely noticed the tremble in Spy’s voice, the barest hint that he wouldn’t last much longer like this either. “Go on, you can stop holding back, mon ange.”

His words were like the pulling of a trigger. Your body shuddered beneath him. It took a moment for you to realize that elated, keening noise you heard was coming from your own throat. Spy’s grip held steadfast even as you strained against him, trying to squirm and writhe. Tears pricked at your eyes as your climax overwhelmed you. Your legs trembled, threatening to buckle as Spy continued to rut into your spent body without pause, chasing his own release. Mercifully, he finished soon after you, albeit much softer. He moaned against your ear, leaning his weight upon you for a few moments until you groaned, having been essentially squished against the hard surface of the desk.

“Ah, my apologies, love.” Spy got off of you, being exceedingly careful as he withdrew. You were trembling so much that he was certain you would collapse without his support. “Steady now,” he cautioned as you slowly sat up and took a few shaky steps away from the desk, leaning heavily on him.

“Fuck,” you sighed. “That was really good.”

Spy chuckled. You were never the most articulate person post-orgasm, but you were certainly the most honest. He pulled you in for a quick kiss, feeling your lips curve upward, smiling against him. “Darling, you enjoyed that far too much for it to be considered a proper punishment.”

Your face fell. “Oh. Do I need to have a ‘proper punishment’ now?”

Spy thought for a moment before coming to a decision. “Non. I believe a different method may improve your behavior much quicker.” He leaned in, his breath tickling your neck and sending a shiver down your spine. “If you promise to keep your focus in battle, I’ll fuck and spank you like that after every victory. Does that sound reasonable?”

You had to keep yourself from outright moaning at the very thought. A deep breath steadied your nerves just enough for you to respond with a nervous laugh. “Every night? I don’t know if I can manage that.” Oh, but you wanted to try. You very much wanted to try.

Spy smirked, reading you like a book. “Such an eager little thing. You will manage just fine.” He kissed your forehead before swatting your sore ass one last time, appreciating the way you yelped and practically jumped into his arms on instinct. “I have every confidence in you, petite fleur.”

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cookinguptales · 2 days

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God, so. This is a story I haven't told in a while, so it'll probably be new to a lot of my followers.

This morning I got my kudos email and saw one for a fic I didn't recognize. I puzzled over this for a few minutes, then clicked on it and immediately remembered everything I'm about to tell you.

"Oh right," I said. "This is what happened the last time I fell down a research rabbit hole while writing original fiction."

The long and short of it is this: I used to do a Halloween fic exchange every year, and one year someone requested "dinosaur ghost." I was immediately like "that sounds fun!" and then, approximately three seconds later, remembered an article I'd read recently.

(This is me, unfortunately.)

A long time ago, there was this kind of mad rush for dinosaur skeletons to put in museums. (The Bone Wars, if you're familiar.) The Carnegie Museum ended up finding an Apatosaurus skeleton, but at that time, no one knew what that skeleton was supposed to look like. The researchers argued quite a bit about it and, despite the fact that they'd actually found the correct skull during the dig, attached the cast of a skull of a Camarasaurus to it instead. This skeleton had the wrong skull for decades until the mistake was realized and eventually switched out for the right skull in the 1970s.

This left me with an appealing, sort of whimsically romantic idea: what would it be like, if dinosaur bones are haunted? And what would it be like if two ghosts were being forced to inhabit the same dinosaur skeleton?

So I decided that I wanted to write this story about this mismatched skeleton and the ghosts that haunted it, but in order to do that properly, I had to find out what happened to that Camarasaurus skull after the Apatosaurus was properly reassembled.

Friends, I fell down the fucking rabbit hole. I looked at the museum's website. I was looking in journals. I was on Google looking at families' vacation photos so I could get a better look at the exhibits in the museum.

I was down bad.

In the end, I gave in and emailed the museum. Like... this is a weird question, but is there anyone who could tell me what happened to the Camarasaurus skull that used to be on display with the Apatosaurus?

I wasn't expecting a reply, really. Maybe an intern would email me back with an apology. If I got really lucky, a docent might actually know what I was talking about.

Imagine my surprise when I get back an email from an actual fucking paleontologist. He is not just happy to tell me what happened -- he is thrilled. He was excited that someone was even asking these questions, and I didn't even almost have the heart to tell him why I'd asked.

Now... I'll take a moment here to say that I am actually interested in museum studies. I'm super interested in the way we teach science, the way we teach science history, and the history of how we've taught that history. I took classes on it in college, in fact. I tried to take paleontology, too. I even took all the preqs and everything. I just couldn't get it into my schedule in the end.

So when a literal fucking paleontologist emails me to talk to me about these things, I sit up in my seat. I want to seem like I am On The Level. I reply to this man with my academic email address.

OH MY GOSH, he says. YOU WENT TO PENN? I WENT TO PENN!

Oh no. Oh no. I am in too deep. I am in way too deep. This kind, charmingly enthusiastic paleontologist cannot know that I am writing a quasi-homoerotic dinosaur ghost love story. He can't.

So I talk to him about my own field of study because I desperately want to sound like a real scholar and not like this is research for my AO3 account. (Even though it is.) We have a very nice conversation. He tells me everything I need to know and then some.

Apparently, I was right when I'd suspected that I'd seen a Camarasaurus skull in some of the photos of the exhibit. He was pleased I'd noticed. But it wasn't the same one that was on display with the Apatosaurus skeleton.

The real Apatosaurus skull was too fragile to be put on display, so they made a cast of it instead and mounted that on the skeleton in the exhibit. The real skull is being kept in the Big Bone Room, which is what they call their fossil storage. The cast of the Camarasaurus skull? Even though it was just a cast, it was still kept for posterity. It is also being stored in the BBR along with the skull of the Apatosaurus. And the real Camarasaurus skull that the cast was based on is now displayed near the Apatosaurus skeleton in the exhibit.

So both parts of the skeleton are now with a new version of their old friend, and they'll never be alone again. I don't think I could have designed a more romantic, bittersweet ending if I'd tried.

I write my fic. It's lovely, in my opinion, and exactly what I wanted it to be. It's about love and friendship and the sort of wistful affection you feel for friends who have gone and those you have just met.

I do not speak to the paleontologist again.

To this day, I am deeply relieved that he never found out what I was up to, but also sort of curious to know if he would've liked it if he'd read it. I took some extreme scientific liberties while writing my quasi-f/f dinosaur ghost fic (shocking, I know) so probably not. lmao

You never know, though! Some academics are into some super weird shit! Like me!

So I guess I always feel kind of wistful about the fic, too.

Anyway... Here's the Carnegie Museum's page about the Apatosaurus/Camarasaurus skeleton.

And here's the story I wrote about them:

Something Borrowed 💜🦕

#original fiction #long post #paleontology #dinosaurs

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faggot-vampire-dies-epicly · 3 days

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Respite

Summary: After a really bad argument with your brother Mike, you are left feeling distraught after both of you said things you shouldn't have. As you're struggling to come to terms with what happened, you find comfort in the person you least expected. | Words: 4.225K. Requested by @xxinmyfnafworldxx.

Warnings: Mentions of child disappearance. Mentions of poverty. Cursing, miscommunication, hurt/comfort, family drama, family issues, unresolved romantic tension. Smoking. A bit of an age gap, since Reader is younger than Mike and Vanessa. Fem!Schmidt!Reader.

A/N: Okay, yeah, I know this took long but I was busy, sorry. School is beating my ass, my cousin got into a car accident and a stray dog bit me in the leg. It may not have the same quality as the last one, but I did put in a lot of effort, and I do like how this turned out, so I hope you guys like it too.

Main Masterlist | Vanessa Masterlist | AO3

Nebraska, 1987.

“During autumn, Nebraska is colder than at home. So don’t take off your sweater.”

That was the first thing your dad said when he helped you get out of the car.

Garrett and Mike were already playing tag around the campsite. You chuckled and ran after them, following them into the woods.

That night, at the police station, as you sat beside the only sibling you had left now, you realized your dad was right. Nebraska was indeed colder than Hurricane.

November, 2000.

The past months had been rough.

With Max’s disappearance, you had no choice but to quit your job and stay home to look after Abby while Mike was at work.

After all, Mike had an accident (that he didn’t want to tell you anything about) which caused him to lose another job, which meant even more cost-cutting since he couldn’t keep one job for too long, nor get a high-paying one.

Abby had been there with him the night of the “accident” and she didn’t want to say a thing about it either.

It was driving you insane.

At least things with Aunt Jane had gotten better. But that only was because you had found her passed out in the living room the same night Mike had been injured, and she never came back to bother you and your siblings ever since.

So currently, you were struggling financially, like you always did.

Mike always got the worst of it.

The smallest portion at dinner, the cheapest clothes, the most worn-out shoes.

You lived in a perpetual state of worrying about him. He would just give you a tired smile, and say, “It’s alright.”

You knew it wasn’t.

Everything changed after Mike lost his job at that old restaurant.

Mike and Abby’s relationship had been magically fixed, or at least that’s how it felt.

She wasn’t shutting both of you out anymore, and Mike had become more calm and understanding.

There was also Vanessa, the police girl who had stayed a couple of weeks at your house. She was Abby and Mike’s friend and had also been involved in whatever happened in that old place.

Mike had let her stay in the house while recovering from whatever injury she had suffered.

She had slept on the couch. Sometimes you would go to the kitchen for water in the middle of the night, and you would find her awake, looking through the window.

Vanessa never talked much, at least not with you, she seemed to like Mike more. But you would still stay with her until she whispered goodnight and slipped under the blankets.

Sometimes, you would stay even after she had fallen asleep. You were the only one who could wake her from her nightmares after all.

Then she had moved out and you barely saw her. Sometimes she would drop Abby off from school, or Mike would invite her to dinner.

Vanessa was… fine.

It’s not that you didn’t like her.

No.

You liked her very much.

But you didn’t have time to acknowledge what that meant. Much less let her know.

Not that you were thinking of actually doing it.

After all, it seemed like everyone's life was improving, except for yours.

You still couldn’t go to college like you wanted to, since there were no babysitters around to look out for your little sister.

Mike was still jumping from job to job, getting paid barely enough to help with the mortgage and the basic groceries. And you couldn’t help with that either, since nobody wanted to hire you just for the part-time, and even if they wanted to, Mike wouldn’t approve of it.

And even worse, you couldn’t even go out to make friends, because, even if your older brother had changed, he was still as overbearing and overprotective with you.

You were sure that if you went to look at the meaning of overzealous on the library computers, his name would be the first thing to come up.

It always drove you nuts.

Even if you were young, you were already an adult. You didn’t need him to always keep an eye on you.

You understood it was just a trauma response. You really did.

You were there the day Garrett was kidnapped, after all. You recalled the horrified look on Mike’s face as they were interrogating him. His cheeks were tear-stained, his eyes red-rimmed, and he was so pale anyone could have mistaken him as a ghost.

You could remember him saying, “I just looked away for a second. I swear it was just a second,” to your parents' sorrowful faces over and over again.

Still, it didn’t mean you had to suffer such consequences. You wanted to live a normal life, as normal as you could, regardless of what had happened.

Abby sighed profoundly and shifted on her seat, frowning at her drawing.

You were in the kitchen, making dinner, and close enough to her to notice her discontent, so you pushed the salad you just finished aside and looked at her.

“What’s wrong, Abz?”

She made a face, meeting your gaze. “My friend from school invited me to have a sleepover tonight, but Mike won’t let me go.”

You frowned. When did this kid make friends at school?

And why were you just finding out about it?

“Well, uh,” you trailed off. “Did he give you a reason? Like, is he going to stay late at work tonight?”

Abby shook her head, looking back at her drawing, and put the crayon she was holding down on the table.

Just then, as if you had summoned him, Mike opened the door and stepped into the house.

Abby and you turned to look at him as he took out his jacket, and stepped out of his shoes.

He smiled at Abby, first, ruffling her hair, and looked at her drawing.

“That’s a good one,” he murmured, looking at Abby. He then turned to look at you.

“What’s with that face?” Mike asked casually.

“Abby told me something interesting,” you said, focusing on the salad again.

Mike hummed, peeking into the pots on the stove, and checked what you were cooking. “What did she say?”

You huffed, setting the salad to the side again.

“Well, first of all,” you turned to look at him. “I have just been made aware that she has a friend in school.”

Mike chuckled softly, leaving the pots alone to face you. “Ah, yes. It’s true, she has a school friend.”

You huffed, frustrated. Did neither of them feel like this was important information? After all the time Abby had struggled to make real friends?

“And also,” you continued, “her friend invited her to a sleepover, and you didn’t allow it.”

Mike sighed, already tired from the conversation. “Yes, that’s true, too.”

“So, why can’t she go?” You crossed your arms.

Mike shrugged. “It's not safe for her.”

You scoffed. “You're unbelievable. It's just a sleepover. What's the worst that could happen? Kids consuming too much sugar? She asking her friend's mom to call you because she misses her room? ”

Mike huffed, shaking his head, and tried to walk away from the conversation.

You followed him across the hall and into his room.

“Come on, Mike. What's the worst that could happen? Seriously.”

Mike sighed, turning to face you while he tossed away his tie. “I don't know – I mean, we don't know these people. God knows what strange habits–”

“Are you hearing yourself?” you said, disbelief clear in your voice. “You’re accusing people you don’t know of being,” you gestured with your hands, “weirdos, just because you’re afraid of letting Abby out of your sight!”

Mike rolled his eyes, scoffing. “I'm not afraid, I'm just being careful! It's my job as an older brother–”

“You won't have control over her all her life. You know that, right?” You argued back. “She might be a kid right now but she’ll keep on growing and things will get out of hand, Mike.”

The conversion was turning into a whole-blown argument. You knew you shouldn't press Mike's buttons further, but it was too late to care about that.

“Y/N,” he said in a warning tone. “Don't start this again.”

You scoffed, “Start what, exactly?”

“You know what. I'm not in the mood to argue.”

“You're never in the mood for anything!” You snapped at him. “All you do is work,” you continued. “Or rather, try to keep your job and watch over us like you're our bodyguard. You are going to asphyxiate us with your intensity.”

“I'm just trying to keep you two safe!”

Your voices were raised so high that Abby could probably hear the discussion from the living room.

“Keep us safe–”

“Oh, please,” he practically mocked. “You know I have reasons!”

Before you could argue back, he continued.

“Abby is a kid. She doesn’t understand the dangers she could be in, and you,” Mike met your gaze, “you think I don't notice how you look at me sometimes? Like I'm ruining your life? Like you hate me?”

You huffed, “I don't hate you! I just– I just want some space, okay?”

Mike scoffed, but you ignored him.

“I want to be able to go out at night, to have a job, and make money not only for us to have something to eat, but to buy things for myself too. I want to stop worrying so much about you!”

You took a long breath, trying to calm down.

“I want a normal life. A normal, relaxing life, Mike. Where I can make friends and go on dates without having to sneak out because you won’t agree.”

“Y/N–” he tried to interrupt.

“No!” you cut him off. “You think I don’t know who I remind you of? You think I don't know that when you look at me, you think of Garrett? You think I don’t hear when you tell Abby I look just like him?”

“That’s not true!” he shook his head, now seemingly hurt. “Look, I'm just trying to look out for you! For you and Abby. I'm your big brother–” he said, exasperated. And that was your last straw.

“We don't need you to protect us! Did you forget what happened the last time you tried to look out for one of us?”

A deafening silence followed. Mike deflated, his words dying in his mouth.

You looked at each other for a second before you realized what had been said.

“Fuck,” you exhaled. “Mike, I'm sorr–”

“Get out.”

“But–” You approached him, and tried to take his hand but he cringed, pulling away.

“Please, just…” he trailed off, not looking at you. “Just leave.”

You looked around, thinking of what to do.

Something, anything that could change the situation you were in.

But of course, there was nothing to do, at least not until Mike had calmed down.

So you left his room, looked at him one last time, and closed the door.

You stood still outside his door, letting everything sink in. You were still angry, but you also felt guilty.

Using Garrett’s kidnapping as an argument during the discussion was a low blow. If there was a hell, you were fucked.

Running your hands through your hair, you approached the living room.

Abby was still sitting at the dining table, eyes fixated on her now-finished drawing.

“Abby?” you called, softly.

She didn’t react. It was one of those moments when she felt stressed so she wouldn’t acknowledge you– or anyone, for that matter.

You sighed, took your jacket from the coat hanger, and stormed out of the house.

You walked for a while, just following the river.

After a good fifteen minutes, you stopped. It was cold, and your jacket wasn’t warm enough.

You sighed in frustration, kicking rocks into the water, and finally decided to sit on the grass.

“Was it really that serious?” You thought. After all, even if it was annoying, Mike's overprotectiveness had probably saved you from a lot of trouble.

You ripped up handfuls of grass as you stared at the water.

“Yes, it is,” you said out loud. Blaming him for Garrett’s disappearance was shitty, but you knew your anger was justified. Mike couldn’t keep being like this.

Not with you, and not with Abby, either. He needed to understand. To learn.

But how would he understand and learn if you only told him about your frustrations after bottling up and then exploding?

It wasn’t fair to him, either. Mike would just feel like you’re being antagonistic.

Grumbling, you rummaged through your jacket’s pockets. The wind had started to pick up and you needed something to warm up.

You pulled out a cigarette pack and a lighter from the front pocket of your jacket.

You huffed. Mike would kill you if he found out.

Lighting the cigarette, you took a quick drag and as you put the items away again, you felt something strange in your pocket.

Frowning, you placed the cigarette between your lips and reached into your pocket, pulling out a folded piece of paper.

Humming, you unfolded it without care, not remembering what it was.

You almost choked on the smoke.

It was a drawing from Abby.

She had given it to you a few weeks ago after you picked her up from school.

It was a drawing of you, her, Mike, and a little airplane toy. Garrett's favorite.

“God-fucking-dammit,” you said, putting the cigarette back in between your lips to avoid getting ash on the paper.

“Language,” a voice behind you said, and you jumped, turning around.

Standing there, with her blonde hair swaying slightly in the wind, was Vanessa.

“Great,” you thought.

Out of all the people you could have run into this situation, it had to be her.

You noted was wearing civilian clothes: jeans, a cheap-looking sweater, and a jacket. Her hair was also down. Very different from her usual everyday look.

“That’s bad for your lungs. You know that right?” she said, pointing to the cigarette between your lips.

You grumbled, turning to face the water again, and she took it as an invitation to sit beside you.

“I mean that,” Vanessa said, staring at you.

You took a drag and blew the smoke away from her. “I know.”

She hummed. “Does Mike know?”

You frowned, looking at your shoes while the cigarette slowly burned in your hand.

“There’s a lot of things Mike doesn’t know about me,” you answered, meeting her gaze.

You stared at each other for a moment before she spoke again. “Can I?” She said, pointing to the cig. You handed it to her, and she took a puff from the cig.

You smiled. “I thought you said it’s bad for your lungs. What changed?”

Vanessa rolled her eyes, blowing the smoke. She took another puff, then looked at you.

“Nothing has changed, it’s still bad,” and as she said it, she threw the cigarette into the water.

You gasped. “Hey, those are not cheap!”

It was her turn to smile then. “I know.”

You huffed. “Between this and Mike’s pills, I think you can be considered an environmental terrorist.”

Her smile faltered. “He told you about the pills?”

You nodded slowly, humming. “Mike tells me everything,” you said with a smile.

You paused, your mind returning to the night that he arrived limping and with several superficial wounds and scratches, and with a trembling Abby beside him.

“Almost everything,” you thought out loud.

Vanessa looked at the glistening water. “What makes you say that?”

You scoffed. “Come on. Something happened to him in that old pizzeria, and he won’t speak about it. Neither will Abby.”

You looked at her. She shifted uncomfortably under your gaze.

“And I’m assuming you won’t, either.”

She cleared her throat.

“It’s…” She paused for a moment, thinking of what to say. “It’s not that I don’t want to. It’s just something I shouldn’t be the one to tell you.”

You sighed, looking towards the water again. “Called it.”

You two stayed silent for a moment before you spoke up again. “How did you find me anyway?”

Vanessa sighed, rubbing her forehead with one hand.

“Oh,” you breathed out. “Of course.”

Mike had told her to find you.

“He's your brother, Y/N,” she said softly. “I'm sure he only wants what's best for you.”

You felt a twinge of annoyance.

"Yeah sure..." you said sarcastically, rolling your eyes. "He's always known what's best for me. Like when he convinced me to leave my job so I can stay home and be a housekeeper.”

Vanessa's brows furrowed. “He did?”

You sighed. “It's… more complicated than that, but… that's how it feels.”

A beat passed in silence.

“I know he's doing it because of Garrett,” you murmured.

“Doing what?” Vanessa asked carefully.

“This. All of this…” You sighed. “Not letting Abby hang out with her new friend, convincing me to stay home and take care of her...”

She watched you intently, waiting for you to continue.

“I can't go out at night, he's constantly barging into our rooms, I can't date anyone,” you sighed, and she seemed to understand, her expression softening.

Slowly, Vanessa reached out to you, putting her hand on your shoulder.

"I understand that Mike can be overprotective at times, I can't deny that,” she said softly. "I know it must suck not being able to go anywhere or do anything without him always checking on you..." she sighs, looking you in the eyes empathetically. "But we both know he just wants to protect you, even if he’s doing it in the wrong way. He loves you dearly.”

You avoid her gaze, your eyes focusing on the grass underneath you.

“It's worse with me.”

“Why do you say that?”

You smile bitterly. “Because apparently, I’m the only one who looks just like Garrett.”

Silence.

“I–” She began but cut herself off.

“I just wish,” you continued, “he could just try to move on. At least now he's aware it wasn't his fault, but,” you took a deep breath. “I feel like he's still stuck trying to be a protector instead of just being our brother.”

Vanessa stayed silent, and you were grateful for that. You didn’t feel like hearing fake reassurances while talking about Garrett or his disappearance.

“Every time we try to talk about it, it just turns into an argument,” you whispered

“And why's that?” Vanessa squeezed your shoulder. You felt your heart flutter at the gesture.

“I guess… because we're both too stubborn to hear each other out,” you chuckled tiredly, running your hands through your hair.

Vanessa opened her mouth, but you interrupted her.

“I fucked up today,” you turned to face her. “I kind of… blamed him for Garrett's disappearance.”

Vanessa seemed shocked by this. Then she sucked in her breath between her teeth.

“That's–”

Your expression turned bitter as you felt your face flush in shame.

“I know, you don't have to tell me.”

You hid your face in your hands. “He seemed so distraught, so hurt, I can't… I can't stop thinking about it.”

You felt your nails dig into your scalp. “I can’t stop thinking about the pain in his eyes, I can’t unsee the way he just… shrank.”

Carefully, Vanessa rested her hand on your back, and when you didn't protest, she started rubbing small, comforting circles.

You feel a knot form in your throat.

“I…” you swallowed. “I remember it. The day he disappeared.”

A pause.

“I remember it so vividly,” you huffed a self-deprecating laugh. “I sprayed almost the whole bottle of ketchup on my sweater. Mom guided me to the tent so I could change,” a shaky breath slipped from your lips, and you felt her stomach churn.

The dread, the fear you felt that day would never leave your system.

“Next thing we knew, Mike was running and yelling, desperate. You closed your eyes, the memories flooding your mind.

“Mom, Dad! Help, they took him! They took Garrett!”

You stayed with your eyes closed for a few seconds, as Vanessa kept rubbing your back reassuringly.

“Did you know I had a brother?” She began.

“Really?” You asked with surprise in your voice.

“Mhm,” you could hear her smile in her voice, “we used to be really close. He was always looking out for me.”

“What happened to him?”

Her hand stopped. You tensed up.

“He… disappeared. Many years ago. Just like Garrett.”

You pulled slightly at your hair. “I'm sorry, I shouldn't have…”

“It's okay,” she said in a solemn voice, but with a small, resigned smile on her face.

“Why are you telling me this?” You finally faced her again.

“Because you can never take your family for granted. You shouldn’t say hurtful things to each other, and if it happens, you should let it cool off and then talk about it, not run away.”

Oh, now she was scolding you.

“I didn't–” you cringed. “Mike asked me to–”

She giggled. Giggled.

“I'm not saying it only because of you. Mike needs to understand that you're an adult now, that he won't always be able to protect you.”

Your eyes lit up. “Will you help me, then? Will you talk to him?”

Vanessa shook her head. “No, Y/N. You two need to sit down, talk, and finally start listening to each other.” She gave you a small smile.

You sighed, nodding.

“Come on,” she said, standing up, shaking the dirt off her jeans, “I'll take you home.”

She extended her hand, and you took it without thinking twice.

Vanessa parked her car in front of your house, sighing softly before turning off the engine.

She looked at you, and after a few seconds, you met her gaze.

“You know,” she smiled, “I’m pretty sure you two can actually come to an agreement.”

You huffed, “That’s easier said than done.”

You pushed the car door open.

“Wait,” she said, holding onto the back of your jacket. You stayed still.

“I mean it, Y/N,” she gave you a soft look.

“Just talk to him. No yelling, not arguing,” you resisted the urge to roll your eyes, “talk. Really talk…”

You stared at each other momentarily before she let go of your jacket.

“Hear him and… make him hear you,” Vanessa added, a whisper more than anything.

You nodded, climbing out of the car, and closing the door.

She lowered the window. “Good luck, I guess,” she smiled.

You felt your heart speed up. Was this really the end of it? Would she only speak to you when Mike asked her to? So she was just being nice, right?

You swallowed. “Yeah… Well.”

You felt heat rising up your neck, reaching your cheeks. Shame.

“Thanks for the ride, by the way,” you scratched the back of your neck, trying to get rid of the sensation.

“No problem.”

You nodded, and just as you were about to push the front door open, Vanessa called your name and you practically rushed to the car window. “Yes?”

Vanessa let out a breathy laugh and you almost melted on the spot. She opened the glove compartment and took out a notebook and a pen.

She started to write something down.

“In case you and Mike keep having trouble…” She trailed off as she handed you the paper, which had a phone number written on it.

You raised your gaze to meet hers. “If it doesn’t work out, you can call me and I can give you some advice,” she grinned at you.

“And if it does?”

"Maybe we can go for a coffee, then?"

“I don’t like coffee,” you blurted out, feeling your cheeks warm up.

Vanessa's smile grew wider at your reaction and she chuckled softly. "Well, how about tea then? Or maybe we could just go for a walk instead?"

Her tone was playful and her smile was contagious, making it impossible for you to stay embarrassed for long.

You stayed silent, not sure how to respond. All you knew was that it was supposed to be cold outside at this time of the year, but you were sweating.

Vanessa shook her head, still smiling, and her playful tone turned into a sincere one. “We don’t have to if you don’t want–”

“I want to,” you interrupted her. “I do.”

She seemed to perk up.

“I’ll call,” you said, without a doubt. “I promise.”

Vanessa gave you a soft smile before turning the car on, and slowly drive out of sight.

You sighed, turning to push the door open, and to your surprise, Mike was standing in the doorway with his arms crossed, and Abby peeking at you from behind him, smiling.

He met your gaze, and against all odds, he smiled at you. “I guess we need to talk.”

You smiled at him. “Yeah,” you looked down at the small piece of paper in your hands and swallowed. “Yeah. We do.”

Mike sighed, gesturing for you to come inside.

“So you heard all of that?” You said in a weary voice, and Abby giggled.

Mike shook his head. “Maybe we should eat first, I’m about to pass out.”

Right, you still hadn’t had dinner. Your stomach grumbled.

As you followed your brother into the dining room, you had the sensation that maybe, just maybe, things would be alright.

A/N: Reblogs are not only appreciated but also encouraged. Reblogs are what keep the fandom going.

#vanessa shelly x reader #vanessa shelly #schmidt!reader #mike schmidt #abby schmidt #fnaf #fnaf movie #elizabeth lail

47 notes · View notes

kallie-den · 2 days

Text

Your Type

Paige, a trans woman, goes on a date with a reality-warping lesbian who is determined to mold her into ‘her type’

If you like my writing, please consider supporting me on Patreon! For less than the price of a cup of coffee each month, you can get immediate, early access to everything I write - 4 pieces of hypno-smut a month, including the latest chapters of all the multi-chapter stories I write. Your support helps me keep writing and is greatly appreciated <3

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“So,” Paige said, watching her date carefully over her wine glass as she took a sip. The bar’s house white - good, but a touch dry for her palate. “What’s your type?”

Sophia, the woman sitting opposite her, laughed, amused. “Quite a question, for a first date. It really puts me on the spot.”

“Does it?” Paige challenged playfully.

She was having a good time. Paige had been skeptical - when you were a trans lesbian, dates with strangers could be risky. But she’d decided to take a chance and, fortunately, Sophia was making a good first impression. The woman her friend had set her up with was dressed smart, in a white, satin dress that matched nicely with her fair skin and platinum hair. She was pretty, too, and seemed professional - a good match for a career woman like Paige. Yes, it was strange that she was wearing darkened sunglasses inside a bar, but Paige was happy to overlook a small affectation.

“Well,” Sophia mused, stroking the rim of her glass, “if I tell you that you’re my type, it sounds like nothing more than boorish flattery. But if I describe anything else, then I’m offending you. I’m in a bind.”

Paige laughed too. She was pleased her date could enjoy a little verbal sparring. The atmosphere was perfect for it. The bar was classy - quiet but not dead - and the two of them were tucked away in a private corner so they could talk. Paige had come straight from work but she’d still been able to steal some time to freshen up, and she knew she looked good in her tailored suit, with her long, brunette hair up in a nice ponytail and her nails newly-manicured.

“It’s actually something I ask on all my first dates,” Paige explained. “The answer tells you a lot about someone.”

“And what are you looking to hear?” Sophia shot back, smiling.

“The truth.” Paige shrugged. “Look, I’m not expecting to be exactly your type. That would be one in a million. I just want to see if we have a real shot. I turned thirty a few years ago, I don’t feel like playing games anymore. I’m in your strike range? Wonderful, and we can make sure the mismatches aren’t deal-breakers. If I’m not? We make this just a drink, maybe a night of fun, and go our separate ways.”

Paige knew exactly how that sounded. In fact, it was part of the test. If Sophia got spooked by Paige’s no-bullshit way of doing things, it wasn’t going to work out. Better to find out now than in two months’ time. Fortunately, Sophia was still smiling. The other woman raised an eyebrow as she sat back to sip her wine.

“You’re a woman who knows what she wants,” Sophia noted. “I like that.”

Paige nodded appreciatively. “Oh, and I’m not afraid to put my cards on the table first. You are definitely my type.”

Sophia giggled. “Well, thank you. I’m happy to share, really - I love games, and this is a delightful one. So, let’s get very clear on something first, shall we?”

“What’s that?”

Suddenly, Sophia leaned forward and reached up to lower her sunglasses. She fixed Paige with a devastatingly sharp gaze.

“You are going to be my type. In fact, you need to be. You’re desperate to be.”

For a moment, as Sophia spoke, Paige stopped breathing. It wasn’t Sophia’s words. It was her eyes. Her irises. Paige had never seen anything like them. It was impossible. They were moving, shifting, a hundred times a second, endlessly; an infinite fractal-pattern of shapes, sharp and round and spiraling all at once. And the colors! Every color was in those eyes. In those patterns. A rainbow, kaleidoscopic, but more than that, too. Colors Paige had never seen before. Impossible colors. Maddening colors.

Staring into Sophia’s eyes was like looking into a glitch in reality. And the longer she looked, the more she felt like that unstable glitching was spilling out. Enveloping her. Engulfing her. Paige felt the very fiber of her being as it was unwritten and rewritten - and all just because she’d seen those eyes. It made the skin of her own existence feel so perilously thin, and her very reality feel dizzyingly malleable.

But then Sophia pushed her sunglasses back up over her eyes, and it was all gone. And then the words caught back up with Paige.

“I’m going to…” Paige repeated dumbly. “I need… desperate…?”

She looked at Sophia, in urgent need of clarity. Sophia just nodded.

“That’s right, Paige. You’re going to be my type. You need to be my type. It’s probably why you’re so keen to ask me about it.”

Paige’s mind was racing with a million questions. The big ones - what was wrong with Sophia’s eyes? What was that feeling that had washed over her? - were far too great to fit into words. Perhaps that was why, instead, she found herself latching onto the small incongruities.

“N-no,” Paige said slowly. “No, that’s not right. That’s not why I ask. Like I just told you, it’s because I think-“

Paige stopped talking. She froze because she was realizing that somehow, impossibly, she was wrong, and Sophia was right.

She needed to be Sophia’s type. She was desperate to be. And she was going to be.

Paige barely understood what that meant, but all the same, she was filled with a breathless eagerness. She felt like a butterfly about to burst from its cocoon, ready to taste the world in newly metamorphosed lungs - but to experience that plunge, that freedom, she needed an answer. She needed the answer that only Sophia could speak. Suddenly, Paige’s need for it was agonizing. She was trembling. Craving it, like an addict for a fix. She needed to know what Sophia’s type was.

But clearly, there was something more important than that going on. Paige suppressed the new urge and gripped the edge of her seat, knuckles white, to steady her nerves.

“What did you do?” she demanded, shocked.

“Hm?” Sophia seemed faintly surprised. “Oh, yeah, you’re probably a little distracted, aren’t you? Let me explain, although I won’t get technical on you.” She reached up and tapped the corner of her sunglasses with a fingertip. “With these eyes, I’ve got reality wrapped around my little finger. Past, present, future. Body, mind, soul. All of it.”

“You… you can just… change reality?” Paige was dumbfounded. It sounded impossible, but the urge welling up inside her was all the evidence she needed. Was the woman sitting across from her a superhero? A goddess? “How is that even possible?”

“Tsk.” Sophia shook her head. “This always happens. Sorry babe, but we’re supposed to be on a date. I’m gonna need you to focus on me here. So…”

Once again, she reached up and lowered her sunglasses. As soon as Paige realized what was happening, she tried to look away - but it was too late. The very first glimpse of those impossible, reality-glitch eyes had her captivated. And there it was again: the gnawing, discomforting awareness of her own malleability. As she stared, entranced and powerless, Paige felt like nothing more than an origami doll. Her existence was as thin as paper - and here was a woman who could bend and fold her into new shapes.

“Just don’t worry about it,” Sophia told her.

Paige blinked back to life as those eyes once again disappeared behind the sunglasses. As the existential unease faded, Paige expected her intense concern about the nature of Sophia’s abilities to return - but it didn’t. It just didn’t. Somehow, Paige couldn’t seem to muster up any particular feelings about what Sophia could do, or what she was doing to her. It simply didn’t seem important.

She wasn’t worried about it.

“Oh…” Paige said faintly, as that dawned on her. “OK.”

Perhaps not worrying should have itself worried her, but she proved to be equally cut off from that. Instead, as momentous as Sophia’s power seemed, it quickly became unremarkable to Paige. She wasn’t worried about it. Her date with Sophia was far, far more important.

And Paige’s new need came roaring to the forefront of her mind.

“So, um,” Paige said restlessly. She took a sip of wine to try and calm herself. It didn’t help. “What’s your type? I really need to know.”

“You do, do you?” Sophia's thin smile widened. She sat back again, clearly pondering. “Let’s see… what’s my type today?”

Paige was hanging on her next words. She could sense they would mean everything to her.

“You know,” Sophia said eventually, with an air of frivolity that was entirely at odds with how Paige felt about the pronouncement, “I think my type is girls with short hair.”

A pang of disappointment made Paige inhale sharply as, for the first time ever, she regretted her commitment to growing her hair out. But it faded just as suddenly as it had appeared, when Paige realized there was no problem whatsoever.

She had short hair.

Paige had to reach up and check, which was funny, because having short hair was perfectly normal for her. That was just the kind of girl she was. Sure enough, instead of a ponytail - why had she expected a ponytail? - her fingertips touched the ends of her short bob. That seemed wrong - but only for the briefest of moments.

“I… I have short hair?” Paige said dumbly. She wasn’t sure why it came out like a question.

She had short hair. Of course she did.

But why? That fact seemed oddly incongruous. After all, long hair had always been so important to Paige. It was a symbol of her transition. Of her femininity. She’d always hated the thought of getting it cut. So, why would she have short hair? The more she dwelt on the incongruity, the more it became an insisting, throbbing ache at her temples. She needed to make it make sense.

And then it did.

Paige felt herself plunged into an unfamiliar memory. Herself, rushing to a salon the morning after a sobbing breakdown, voice trembling as she asked the stylist to cut her hair off. It had felt so freeing. Her long hair had become a prison of expectations. Cutting it off had been a ritual. An affirmation.

She didn’t need long hair to be a woman. To be feminine. She simply was. Paige could look the way she’d always wanted. Peering further back, to those miserable college days before her egg had cracked, her memories of her transition goals were shifting. Sigourney Weaver in Alien. Winona Ryder in Girl, Interrupted. Of course. Of course Paige had ended up with short hair. It made perfect sense.

Soon enough, her memories lost that unfamiliar flavor. They had always been like that. She had always been like this. Paige had short hair.

“Wow,” she giggled, “I’m off to a lucky start. Looks like I’m your type.”

Right away, the fact of her short hair became euphoric. She had short hair. She was Sophia’s type. That was wonderful. Amazing. It was the best news she’d heard in months. It was what she needed.

“Indeed.” Something twinkled in Sophia’s eyes. “You’re rocking the look.”

“Thank you.” Paige reached up and touched her hair. She did that a lot. It made her happy. Short hair didn’t take a lot of effort to keep neat and sleek, but still, it was nice to be complimented for it. “I’m glad you like it.”

She was. She was unbearably glad. Paige just had to hope her grin wasn’t too off-puttingly eager. Knowing she was Sophia’s type made her so happy.

Only, surely Sophia’s type went beyond just hair. The gnawing craving in Paige’s chest itched at her anew. It wasn’t even close to sated.

“And…” Paige pressed. “What else? Tell me more. What’s your type?”

She had to strain to keep her voice measured. Paige didn’t want to make this creepy. But she couldn’t help sounding a little urgent. This was so important.

“Hmm…” Sophia mused. It was plain that she was enjoying the way Paige was sitting forward, shoulders tense, desperate for an answer. “Now that you mention it, I’ve always felt like girls who are all about pink are my type. Know what I mean?”

“P… pink?” Paige said plaintively.

She tried to reason with herself over it. Paige liked pink. She liked it as much as the next girl, anyway. Didn’t that count? In her heart, she knew it didn’t. Sophia’s type was girls who were all about pink, and Paige had always felt faintly at odds with the color. Pink clothes, pink lipstick, pink accessories - they all made her feel like she was stereotyping herself a little. Girls didn’t need to wear pink all the time.

But Paige did.

It hit her like a roaring wind. The infatuation. The obsession. Paige loved pink. It was a touch stereotypical, yes, but that was exactly why Paige adored it so much. There was something indulgent about surrounding herself with it. It was something she could rest her identity on. Blue was for boys, but pink? Pink was for girls. Girls liked pink.

“Pink,” Paige sighed happily, reverently, as the story of her life flailed and twisted out behind her like a serpent’s tail.

When she’d started her transition, pink had felt like coming home. Everything pink she’d bought had become a source of joy. It was funny, though, because Paige remembered feeling a little tokenized whenever someone - a family member, a friend - had given her something pink to clumsily signal their acceptance. Then, a moment later, she remembered more. She remembered overcoming that little hang-up. All of a sudden, her unwillingness to embrace pink was recast as early-transition blues; as holding back, as instinctive repression.

She’d overcome it, of course. And now Paige was all about pink.

Paige looked down. Her suit was pink. Of course it was. She owned a black suit, sure, for somber occasions, but mostly it was consigned to the black of her closet to gather dust. Paige always wore pink suits to work. It turned heads, naturally, but she didn’t mind - not as long as when people looked at her, they saw ‘pink’. Plus, she rationalized - and as she rationalized, it became her truth - it was a nice way to make sure her short hair didn’t mislead people into thinking she was aiming to be androgynous.

“I’m all about pink!” The words burst out of Paige; a cry of joy, a plea for attention. She was Sophia’s type, and she needed Sophia to know.

“So you are,” Sophia giggled. “You’re quite the Barbie.”

The comment made Paige shockingly euphoric. But why wouldn’t it? She was all about pink, and what was pinker than Barbie? Paige remembered seeing the movie posters, and the ads, and- no, no, suddenly she remembered seeing the movie itself. Making time on opening night, despite the pressures of work.

It had been so worth it. So much pink.

“Thanks,” Paige replied, still glowing with the pleasure of being Sophia’s type. “I know it’s getting a little much, at my age, but I just can’t help-“

“At your age?” Sophia seized on that gleefully. “That’s another thing. My type is younger girls, actually.”

“Younger girls?” Paige was immediately crestfallen, but she could already feel the explosive energy of change welling inside her. Already, lines were disappearing from her face. She was caught between despair and hope. “Younger than… you?” She wasn’t sure how old Sophia was, exactly. Suddenly she was hoping for late thirties. Perhaps even pushing forty. “H-how young?”

“Oh, you know.” Sophia seemed to be deciding. She made a little show of counting down on her fingers. “Early twenties, say.”

“Fuck,” Paige breathed - both out of regret, and out of awe at the reality shift that was starting to take her.

This one was different. It made her head throb like nothing else. It felt like her skull was going to implode. Paige could feel her past not just changing, but contracting. Memories gone. Birthdays snuffed out. Suddenly, the nineties she’d grown up in was nothing more than a set of images on TV; a set of anecdotes recounted by older coworkers.

Growing up without the internet? It was a crazy thought, suddenly. Paige found that, even in her last moments of remembering it, she couldn’t seem to comprehend it.

The process was terrifying - or it should have been. But Paige wasn’t worried about it. Couldn’t worry about it. Instead, her eagerness to please, to be Sophia’s type, forced its way through her confusion.

“T-that’s good,” Paige struggled to say. “I’m y-younger.” And she was so pleased about it, too. “I’m… I’m…”

It was a little alarming to realize that she didn’t know quite how old she was. Paige’s age was still in flux. It was like Schroedinger’s cat. She’d yet to settle on it. Paige found herself torn. How young was ‘younger’? Part of her wanted to push her luck. To save what could still be saved of her past. Twenty-four? That could still be ‘early twenties’, right? It was younger than twenty-five, at least.

But what if it wasn’t good enough? That was the other thought, and it soon carried the day. Above all, Paige needed to be Sophia’s type. It was so important.

“I-I’m twenty-one!” Paige sang out, in a voice that was suddenly just that bit fresher and higher.

Twenty-one. Of course she was twenty-one. It had only been last month - her birthday, that little ritual, going to a bar, buying a drink with her real ID as her friends cheered and the bartender winked. As moments passed, that memory became more and more solid and concrete in Paige’s head. It was real, undoubtedly. Far more real than the ten or so years she’d just lost, all of that life and time metaphysically shredded into nothing more than hypothetical abstraction.

“Twenty-one?” Sophia cocked an eyebrow playfully. “That’s kind of hot.”

Paige tittered and blushed. That was so naughty. There was something thrilling about going on a date with an older woman - why did that thought taste so new? It wasn’t. Paige was sure of that. At least, she thought she was. She’d been giddy with anticipation ever since her friend had, with a knowing wink, proposed setting her up with Sophia.

Paige had a thing for older women. She must. Why else would she be on a date with Sophia? Her attraction to Sophia took on a new flavor.

“Twenty-one,” Paige repeated. The thought was settling. “Yeah. Um. Yeah.”

Twenty-one. She was twenty-one. Fuck. She was younger than Sophia.

She was still dizzy from the change. So much of her life had been put into flux. Only slowly was it falling into place. Paige struggled to make sense of it all, grasping at possible solutions that turned to stone - to reality - as soon as she latched onto them. Her transition moved backward, to her teenage years. The miserable, closeted portion of her life was high school now, not college. College - that felt like just yesterday. Paige had only just graduated. She was so young!

But of course she was. She was twenty-one.

It changed everything. Only the bare outline remained fixed. Suddenly, instead of Sigourney Weaver and Winona Ryder, Paige had been showing her hair stylist pictures of Miley Cyrus. Kristen Stewart. Those were her idols now - at least, in some ways. Neither of them was quite pink enough for Paige’s liking.

2010s pop culture was pouring into her head, replacing what she’d lost. It was a wild experience. And somehow, it felt like it had always been there.

And then there was her job. Paige was a successful career professional. She worked in management. A twenty-one-year-old manager? Wasn’t that absurd? Paige tried her hardest to cling to that one thing. She was so proud of it, after all. Mercifully, the thread of reality she was pulling on didn’t quite snap.

Right. Yes. She remembered now. She was a twenty-one-year-old manager. Paige had started interning in college, and she’d made a big impression at the company she’d worked for. They’d been willing to take a chance on her and hire her into a senior role right out of college. She was a rising star. It was rough sometimes, of course, having so many subordinates who were younger. It was a fight to get them to take her seriously. Especially given all the pink she wore. But Paige couldn’t be stopped. The pink became a statement. Young women - young trans women - of her generation could do anything. She was a girlboss. The world was her oyster.

And a thousand other things about her reality shifted. Big changes and small ones, spreading out along implications and possibilities like cracks in ice. With the strange power Sophia had infused into her, Paige was rewriting her entire being - and all of it, just to be Sophia’s type.

“How old are you?” Paige asked. She just wanted to hear it.

“Old enough,” Sophia replied rakishly. “The waitress probably thinks we’re mother and daughter.”

Paige shivered rapturously. It wasn’t the age gap, not really - although, yes, she found that hot, now. Frankly, working in management was a little distracting in that department. So many hot, older women were Paige’s coworkers. It was the kind of thing a young lesbian could get worked up over. But what mattered far, far more than that was that she was Sophia’s type.

“So… I’m perfect, right?” Paige was desperate to be. It was written into the fiber of her being now. “Perfect for you?”

“You’re getting there,” Sophia offered. Just hearing that was intoxicating. “But… oh, I don’t know. Maybe I shouldn’t say it.”

“What?” Paige’s heart skipped a beat. The mere possibility of a mismatch between herself and Sophia’s ideal was panic-inducing. “No. No, tell me.”

She needed to know. She needed to know, so that she could become.

“It might be a big ask,” Sophia warned. The smile on her face was more than a little cruel. “Are you sure you want to know?”

“Yes!” Paige answered at once. Her apprehension was swept away effortlessly by gnawing desperation. “Please.”

“If you insist,” Sophia replied. Her manner was painfully unhurried. “The thing is, my type happens to be girls who are… well… dumb.”

“W-what?” Paige whimpered. “That… that’s…”

It was awful. Sophia’s type was dumb girls, and Paige had always prided herself on her intelligence. But as much as she feared losing her brains, the inexorable pull towards becoming Sophia’s ideal was stronger. Paige could already feel it, taking her into its flow, draining hard-won knowledge out of her head.

“I’m dumb,” Paige pleaded, half-sincerely, searching desperately for an angle to shoot for. “At least… um… m-maybe a little forgetful? My friends are always saying-“

She froze. Saying what? Paige could feel reality shifting beneath her feet as the memories came back to her.

Ditzy. Airheaded. That’s what her friends always called her, wasn’t it? After all, she’d always been the slow one in the friend group. Even in college, someone had to be the dumbest. Of course, in Paige’s case, they even joked it was a miracle she’d been able to graduate. Paige could feel it, even now. Her head getting a little foggier. Her thoughts, a little simpler and cruder. As soon as she felt it, it became familiar.

“Oh, no,” Sophia said, dashing her hopes. “I’m afraid it goes a little beyond that. I’m talking about really dumb girls. That’s my type.”

Paige’s head throbbed painfully as she absorbed that, and reconfigured herself again. College? No way. She’d tried, sure - middle-class family expectations - but Paige had ended up dropping out in her first year. She simply couldn’t follow along in lectures.

“I’m… I’m really dumb,” Paige confessed bashfully. It was kind of embarrassing, coming right out with it on a first date - but hey, it was better than a new lover dumping her after three months once she realized Paige couldn’t hold an intellectual conversation.

Not that she had to worry about that with Sophia, of course. Dumb girls were Sophia’s type, and that alone made it something to be proud of. For the first time ever, Paige was truly, wholeheartedly glad of what a total ditz she was.

"That’s really cute, honestly,” Sophia told her, any predatory glint in her eyes concealed behind those dark sunglasses. “Adorable.”

Her approval was like a red rag to a bull. “When I first got my job, everyone was, like, so surprised!” Paige gushed. “I mean, me? Working in management? That was… was… um… I-I mean, that wouldn’t even make…”

A fresh wave of dizziness hit Paige as the total incongruity of her career dawned on her. It didn’t make sense. A twenty-one-year-old working in senior management was already pushing it. Only exceptional aptitude could possibly justify that. Now that she was dumb - which, of course, she’d always been - that particular thread of reality was finally snapping. It gave way, plunging Paige into another pit of uncertainty.

What was her job again?

There was only one real answer, as embarrassing as it seemed. Paige was a secretary. Not a manager. A secretary. Why had it ever seemed like she’d been anything else? Secretary work was the only kind of office job Paige could handle.

“When I first got my job,” Paige said slowly, trying to pick up the anecdote, “people joked that I might not be cut out for all that, like, reading and typing. Sometimes I kinda need help with some of the more, um, technical documents.”

It was true, she realized a moment after. Paige could now remember hearing workplace rumors about how she’d only been hired because her pink outfits really brightened up the office. She looked down. Her legs felt a little chilly all of a sudden - only, it wasn’t sudden. Paige had been wearing a cute little pink pencil skirt all day. Not pants. A pantsuit was a little much, for a secretary.

“I guess I’m kind of a bimbo,” Paige giggled self-consciously, as she joined the dots between her ditziness and her obsession with all things pink.

And she was. She really was. Maybe that was why she was so confused. Maybe that was why she kept half-remembering another Paige - a Paige that was older, and smart, and successful, and serious. But that wasn’t her. Not anymore. No, not ever. That Paige wasn’t real.

She was becoming less real by the moment, as the waves of this latest change rippled back into her past. Her high-school grades retroactively plummeted. When she’d first started transitioning, there had been more than a few sexist little jokes about being girly and pink suited her better than trying to be smart and serious and masculine. The dizziness started to recede as, more and more, Paige’s life started to make sense again. Once again, the implications went deep. Everything about Paige was malleable. The only fixed points were the things Sophia liked.

Paige wasn’t worried by that, of course.

“A real girly girl,” Paige added, as her reality settled. “You… you like that. Right?”

“You know?” Sophia mused. “Now that I’m seeing it, I’m not so sure. It’s a little, well, cliché.”

“Cliché?” Paige echoed, in a wounded voice. “Is that, like, bad?”

It certainly sounded like a reprimand, but Paige had to be sure. Already, she felt her existence becoming fluid again. The sensation was like nothing else; a dizziness, a fuzziness around her thoughts, around her memories, especially, as they blurred, ready to change.

“I suppose what I had in mind was something a little… rougher?” Sophia continued. “Punk? Is that the word I’m looking for? You know what I mean. A little bit of that blue-collar charm. Dumb, strong, rough.”

“B-blue… collar?” Paige panted. “Punk?”

The headache was like thunder inside her skull. Gale winds, too, blowing away the Paige she’d been steadily coming to terms with. There was no fighting it. At once, Paige’s head was flooded with stereotypes. Punk girls. Working-class girls. She dredged up every impression she’d ever had of them to fuel her transformation. A transformation that tore her life story to shreds.

College? Fuck no. Her family had never had a lot of money. They couldn’t afford to waste it paying tuition for a girl with rocks for brains. Paige had struggled to graduate high school, let alone get a degree. What would have been the point? You didn’t need book smarts to haul ass on a construction crew.

Right. Construction. That was where Paige worked. Suddenly, the idea of herself as a secretary seemed preposterous. Lame. Paige would take fitting joints and carrying pipes over some stuffy office any way of the week. Hers was a good, respectable, union job. Those ran in the family, didn’t they?

Yes. Yes, of course.

Paige was good at it, too. Strong. Sophia had mentioned strong, hadn’t she? Paige was sure of it. Her self-confidence was bolstered back a little. Everyone wanted a strong girl like Paige on a construction site. Even a trans girl. Oh, sure, she’d heard plenty of shitty comments about that. But Paige didn’t take them lying down. She wasn’t that kind of girl. She could stand up for herself. She was rough.

Paige smirked at Sophia. She let her legs fall apart as she slipped into her natural, girlspreading stance. For some reason, wearing a pencil skirt crossed her mind. She wrinkled her nose at the thought. That sounded so needlessly restrictive compared to her loose-fitting pink jeans. The glass in her hand wasn’t wine anymore. Beer.

“Good news, miss,” Paige said, and her accent sounded classless and coarse to her until it didn’t, because she’d always talked that way. “Looks like I’m your type, right down to a fucking T.”

Sophia giggled. Paige lapped up her approval. It felt wonderful. Being Sophia’s type was all-important. Now, though, she was used to girls giggling at her that way. What kind of lesbian didn’t love a tough, strong, working-class dyke?

“You sure are,” Sophia cooed. “You look really punk.”

Paige really did, she realized. In fact, she was a little out of place at a classy bar like this, with her studded choker, heavy boots, and her battle jacket - blue, but covered in pink patches and pins, of course. She’d always dressed that way. Ever since… when? Paige soon supplied the answer. Ever since she’d come out as trans. Her transition goals shifted again. Siouxie Sioux. Joan Jett. The goddesses of punk rock.

For a moment, the fact that Paige liked pink so much bothered her, but her warping mind soon resolved the contradiction. Pink was punk. That was now - always - Paige’s defiant battle cry every time someone questioned her punk cred. In a world that hated women and denied trans women at every turn, pink was punk.

Paige’s music taste, having lurched violently away from pop, started coarse-correcting back. She was punk, for sure, and she loved the classics, but she had to admit that pop punk was a guilty pleasure. Avril Lavigne was so hot. She really got it. Pink was punk.

"So. Anything else?” Paige asked. In this new reality, she was cockier and more confident than ever - but she couldn’t help being insecure about exactly one thing. “Or am I completely your type?”

“You know,” Sophia said slowly, looking Paige up and down as she weighed her up. “I think you’re exactly what I was feeling today. Yeah. You’re my dream girl.”

Paige grinned. Her whole body was thrumming with the delicious pleasure of affirmation. It was like a gnawing emptiness inside her had just been filled. And now she felt so good, there was only one thing on her mind.

“In that case,” Paige said, sitting forward, “how about we get out of here and I show you exactly how good I am at laying pipe?”

She laughed at her crude double entendre - by her standards, an impressively witty joke. A classy, older woman like Sophia was out of her league in at least three different ways, and Paige would hate to blow her shot by moving too fast, but this kind of bar really wasn’t her scene, and she knew she wouldn’t be able to keep up in conversation. Besides, she knew Sophia liked her rough edges. She was Sophia’s type, and she couldn’t wait to have her moaning all over Paige’s bed.

Paige had undergone a head-splitting number of metaphysical changes throughout her date. But one thing that had remained constant throughout was that Paige was a top - and a damn good one.

But Sophia didn’t seem to agree. “Actually, maybe you’re not my type after all,” she said, with an air of particular malice.

Paige was immediately heartbroken. “W-what?” she gasped, shocked. There were tears in her eyes.

“Sorry.” Sophia didn’t sound sorry at all. “It’s just, I’m not that interested in the kind of girls who lay pipe. Bottoms are really my type.”

Paige head started throbbing dangerously again. “I…” she pleaded. “I could… I can bottom.”

And she could, Paige realized as it became true. She called herself a top, sure, but that was just part of the game. Paige could feel her orientations and preferences shifting beneath her feet.

“Really?” Sophia replied idly.

“Yeah!” Paige panted, eager to convince. “I-I love to bottom!” A secret thrill entered her voice. Oh god, she really did. It went against her vibe, her style, her demeanor - but that was part of why it felt so fucking good. “ I’m, y’know, v-… um… I’m… vers?”

It just didn’t taste right in her mouth. Paige wanted to say it - wanted to keep that part of herself within her grasp - but she soon realized why she couldn’t. Sophia had said she wasn’t interested in girls who top. Even being vers was out of the question. Paige felt a sorrowful pang as that part of herself vanished into abstraction - but then the sorrow vanished too, because this was just who she was.

A complete and total bottom.

“Are you now?” Sophia queried.

“No,” Paige admitted. She blushed and leaned in, dropping her voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “I just… god, if word got around, I’d never hear the end of it, OK? Big, tough Paige? But I’m… um… yeah. A bottom. Totally.”

Still the rough kind, of course. Paige wasn’t the type to go down without a fight. She needed to be overpowered. To be dominated. To be shown who was boss. A punk brat. That was her, she decided. It was a little frustrating people always mistook her for a top. What did they think all the pink was about? Couldn’t they take a hint?

Sophia giggled, and said in a teasing voice, “A punk bottom. Now that’s fun.”

Paige stiffened briefly at being mocked, before that, too, was folded into her sexuality, and she squirmed in her seat. Sophia liked bottoms, so she had to be a top, right? Paige loved getting teased by tops. It was so hot.

“It’s kinda embarrassing,” Paige offered, eager to please. “I get these subby girls coming on to me all the time, but… god, I just wouldn’t even know what to do with them in the bedroom.” Her blush deepened, but she made sure to flash Sophia a defiant look that she hoped would stoke her interest. “But… I don’t know if I believe you’re the kind of woman who knows what to do with me.”

Prove me wrong, she was begging with her eyes.

Sophia didn’t rise to the taunt. At least, not directly. “You wouldn’t know what to do with them?” she repeated curiously. “That’s pretty cute. So would you say you’re a pillow princess?”

Paige bit her lip. She could feel it inside her again. The empty, gnawing need that was the furnace of her transformations. “Would… you like it if I was a pillow princess?”

“Oh yes.” Sophia laughed at her. “Definitely. That’s my type, for sure.”

“Fuck!” Paige whimpered, as she was rewritten once more.

She was so pleased. An older woman who liked pillow princesses? Paige had hit the jackpot. She couldn’t let herself fumble this. She just needed to stop pretending to be something she wasn’t.

Bratting? Giving a top some attitude? She’d tried it once, sure. It had seemed a little more dignified, somehow. A little more like what people expected from a punk girl like her. But it hadn’t felt right. Paige was the kind of girl who blew over in a stiff breeze.

She loved the way Sophia was toying with her. Playing with her expectations. Making her change to match them. Paige could feel herself getting hard under her jeans. She’d never been so turned on. And the best part was, she could sense that she could count on Sophia to understand that just because she had a cock, it didn’t mean she was interested in using it.

“That’s better,” Sophia purred approvingly, as she watched Paige whimper and squirm. “Yes, that was just the finishing touch you needed. Now you’re perfect.”

“T-thank you,” Paige whined instinctively. God. She knew how absurd it was for a rough-and-tumble punk like her to sound so meek and submissive. She hoped Sophia was going to bully her about it. “So, um. Maybe, if you wanted, w-we could… get out of here now? Please?”

It was pitiful to beg, but Paige couldn’t help it. She was burning with need. Being around Sophia made her feel even stupider and more tongue-tied than she always was.

Sophia just stared straight at her. Paige could sense those ineffable, eldritch eyes burning behind her sunglasses. “Please what?”

Paige let out a low moan. “P-please, mistress.”

“Good girl,” Sophia told her. Paige moaned again. She could feel herself making a mess of her panties. “Very well.”

Paige shot to her feet with embarrassing eagerness. “Thank you! Um. God. Thank you. I-I’m just really excited, you know? I really got lucky here.”

“Don’t mention it,” Sophia replied kindly, as she rose to her feet. “Besides, I’m the lucky one.”

“You really think so?” Paige asked timidly.

It was hard to believe. A young, dumb punk with a construction job? Paige knew she wasn’t much of a catch for a lady like Sophia. Compared to her classy outfit, Paige’s pink, punk style and short hair were more than a little garish. And she couldn’t even top.

“Of course,” Sophia giggled, leading Paige towards the door of the bar. “How often do I get to meet a girl who’s exactly my type?”

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pretentiousgayguyidk · 2 days

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Hey Hi Hello!

I saw your requests are open so here I am!

I was thinking about Ran, Rindou, Hakkai and Mitsuya with an slavic reader? Male preferably could be gn!

Also could I be the 🥟 anon If your making a list?

Feel free to ignore this!

Pre writing thoughts - Yes!! I absolutely can, I've studied a small amount of Russian and Icelandic - but it probably won't be accurate as I'll have to use Google translate to fill the gaps. I hope you enjoy this 🥟 Anon!

Post writing thoughts- Okay... Well, I wasn't expecting to write so much, so I'll have to make other parts for the other characters 😭 but I hope this is good enough considering how long it took. (Also sorry it wasn't gender neutral, I completely blanked on it)

(Name) stuck out like a sore thumb, having moved to Japan half way into the school year; it wasn't often that foreigners moved to the area. The peculiar student had certainly caught Mitsuya's attention, piquing Takashi's curiosity... Well, (Name)'s caught the eyes of everyone not just Mitsuya.

One thing that stood out was (Name)'s accent, the mix of Japanese words with the addition of deep and throaty annociations strange yet amusing; the rolling of his r's and the emphasis of the ch's and k's pointed towards Slavic origins. That note inspired Mitsuya, and in an attempt to make (Name) more comfortable he started researching traditional Slavic clothing.

"What is that?" Yasuda questioned, her brows furrowed in confusion and slight judgement - as the current piece Mitsuya was working on was out of character for him. The red, black, white, and blue fabric stood out against his usual more casual colour choices - and the sketches of geometric embroidery patterns weren't at all like the usual Kanji he used.

Mitsuya sticks his pencil behind his ear, leaning back in his chair earning satisfying pops from his spine; he had honestly been expecting this question and was expecting it to be asked sooner. He gives Yasuda a tired smile, his arms lax as they hang by his sides.

"It's a uh..." He trails off, unsure how to properly pronounce the word - as it was either Russian or Ukrainian, he couldn't tell the difference even with the little research he did - all he knew was that it was a more traditional Slavic outfit. "Byshibanka?"

He felt a tad guilty, even though the certain Slavic student was nowhere near to hear his horrendous mispronunciation; it felt like a dishonor of sorts. Yasuda raises a brow, her hands on her hips as she looks down at her club captain.

"A what?" She asks, knowing for a fact that - one: Mitsuya mispronounced it - and that two: she would never remember to look it up later when she got home.

Mitsuya sits up, running a hand over his short silver hair; his expression filled with exasperation, not at Yasuda but himself.

"It's this like- traditional Russian or... Whatever... Outfit? I wanted to give it to the new guy." He explains, earning a knowing nod from Yasuda - who knew from her first meeting with Mitsuya that he liked guys... Even if Mitsuya didn't know it himself yet.

"Oh... So you like him?"

Mitsuya shrugs, not getting the implication - as it wasn't exactly the norm for guys to date other guys. He had no idea if he liked the new kid, he just wanted to do something nice... It wasn't like he found (Name) interesting or cute.

"I don't know, he seems like a chill guy - I've never talked to him." The teens nonchalant answer only furthered Yasuda's suspicions, she wasn't going to spell it out for Mitsuya just yet; but she was certainly coming up with a scheme.

"Well, I hope he likes it... And hopefully he's actually Russian... You do know there's other countries like that, right?" She narrows her eyes, doubting that Mitsuya actually did enough research; not surprising, many teenagers weren't all that informed of nations outside of Japan and the major powers.

Takashi's eyes widen, shifting away nervously as he realizes that he completely glossed over the fact that there are other Slavic countries; he didn't bother looking at a map or anything, just looked up some traditional clothing.

"I mean- I..." He trails off, glancing down towards the pile of cloth in front of him; he didn't consider looking beyond Russia, and he didn't even know for a fact that the Vyshyvanka was Russian or not. He shrugs, attempting to wash away his own mild concern over what could be a massive mishap. "I'm sure it'll be fine... Right? Maybe he'll appreciate the sentiment?"

"I'm sure he will... Whatever, I'll leave you to finish your little gift." She states, turning to pay attention to some of the other club members.

Mitsuya felt strangely nervous, holding a box in his lap as he waited for (Name) to enter the school gardens, a place where (Name) often stayed for lunch - since he didn't exactly have many people to talk to. Soon enough, the Slavic man rounded the corner; entering the school gardens, taking his place in the corner with his lunch. (Name) didn't even notice Mitsuya, far too focused on his hunger to realize he wasn't alone like usual.

The Japanese teen finally gains his confidence, standing from his spot on one of the benches. His steps were steady, and his expression showed a lack of interest - or rather calm despite his slight anxiety.

"Hey." Mitsuya calls out casually, causing (Name) to jump as he looks up from his food. It probably wasn't a good idea to interrupt someone in the middle of their lunch, but Mitsuya's mind was oddly scrambled when it came to (Name); his usual calm and collected self thrown out the window.

"Eh? Hi?" (Name) replies, glancing away as he rubs his throat; conscious of how he spoke. His accent has always been a problem, especially with the Japanese language; it's earned more than a few strange looks from locals - as if him being visibly not Japanese wasn't enough to earn strange looks on occasion. Yet, Mitsuya didn't seem to mind his accent, in fact - Mitsuya found it endearing.

"So uh... I just wanted to give this to you." Mitsuya states awkwardly, gesturing down to the thin box in his hands; which had his name written on it, which helped (Name) - as he didn't know Mitsuya's name till reading it on the box.

"Yeah? What's the reason?" The Slavic teen questions, shifting in his seat as he sets aside his lunch box; pulling one leg up in an attempt to seem casual - even though he was very confused and suspicious. Mitsuya glances away nervously, rocking back and forth on his heels; a nervous habit he rarely ever felt the need to do.

"It... It's just a little something I made- I just uh... Wanted to... I don't know-" Mitsuya chokes on his words, feeling his heartbeat speed up as his cheeks warm; he felt strangely embarrassed by his reasoning. "I just wanted to help you feel more welcome."

"Ah... Makes sense... I guess." (Name) mumbles, glancing down to the box as he accepts it; his mind racing for any sort of clue as to what this gift could be.

The silence that falls between them grows more and more awkward and uncomfortable by the minute, neither of them knowing what to say in the moment. Finally, Mitsuya mumbles a small goodbye before turning on his heel to leave the garden.

Once Mitsuya was gone, (Name) hesitantly opened the box - his eyes widening at the sight of familiar clothing. He can't help but smile, setting the lid aside as he runs his hand over the embroidered fabric; he wasn't Ukrainian, but he had childhood friends who were - they always leaned towards traditionalism. They often wore vyshyvankas, and some other clothing that (Name) couldn't remember for the life of him... But either way, the sight of the clothes brought back fond memories.

Lifting the clothing from the box (Name) notices something, there wasn't any sort of tag or label printed onto the fabric... Did Mitsuya make this just for him? There was a note at the bottom of the box, which (Name) quickly turned his attention to.

Hey, I just wanted to make you feel more comfortable and welcome here - we Japanese aren't always the nicest to foreigners or whatever. So I did some research and made you this, I hope you like it.

It was such a simple note, but it made (Name)'s heart skip a beat. It wasn't as if Mitsuya had bought him a gift, which would have been greatly appreciated as well... But the fact that Mitsuya made it - well that was a whole other level.

"I'll have to thank him later..."

#male reader #tokyo revengers #tokyo rev x reader #tokyo revengers x male reader #fluff #mitsuya x male reader #mitsuya takashi #mitsuya x slavic male reader

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the-solitary-child · 19 hours

Text

Kipperlily Copperkettle analysis, this is a long one so click read more to read all of it.

Kipperlily Copperkettle. Halfling Rogue.

The Model Minority.

Her parents work good jobs, respectable jobs. One of them is a realtor, they are charismatic and good with words and they work hard. Hard for their family, hard to keep things in order. The other works in bastion city, away from home and with the council of chosen. A noble job, one that is met with praise and awards. It is a good job, a respectable job for the greater good.

Her family is good. Her family is picture perfect, with two parents and a kid and a white picket fence.

She must be perfect, for her sake, for her parents sake. Halflings are kind. Halflings are sweet. They get along with everyone. They are peacemakers, so much so that humans and elves could come and take solace from them. Years of bloody history and violence brews in her veins, and she is supposed to be complicit and smile and act kind. She does so for her parents sake, with a slicked back ponytail and a perfect uniform and a smile too big, too unnerving.

I’m sure people tried to dissuade her, telling her that she wouldn't find more comfort in something different? Maybe a job as a clerk or a secretary, or an artificer so she could help build things for people. She has her mind set though, with her nails digging into her palms to control the bitter rage that boils in her as she is only ever underestimated.

High school starts and it's supposed to be a new beginning. She will find her party, and she will make friends. And she does, sort of. The High Five heroes she calls them, setting herself up as the leader. She has to take control of everything. They don't really listen to her though. Oisin and Ivy are immediately their own little duo, as are Ruben and Lucy, although Lucy has made a point to include Kipperlily too, and Mary Ann just acts uninterested in everything thus far. She has to make sure everything is perfect. A fight happens during the first day of school. It results in two students death, and makes the principle commit murder suicide on both himself and the counselor in order to bring two students back. Maybe that's where it started, the jealousy and the burning hatred and the obsession. Maybe it started a little earlier that day, when Riz handed out his business cards, and Kipperlily took it. Saw his name, maybe even wanted to be friends at first. Maybe he was too busy with the case of missing penny luckstone, maybe he was too busy with the friends that seemed to care about him. Maybe Kipperlily was jealous that his party actually cared about him, whilst hers only tolerated her at best.

I think that's where it started. The jealousy, the obsession. Her anger got worse, nails digging into skin and drawing blood. She is just so angry. She has always been angry, rage and spite boiling in her blood. Her parents said she came into the world not crying but screaming, like existing in this very world hurt her. She studied him. She learnt everything about him as the year went on and she felt shame. Burning, red shame. She started seeing the new counselor in hopes of getting help. She knew this wasn't normal. She was just so angry and had nothing to do with all this rage and fury. So she talked about it, how she was jealous of him. How he got the perfect adventurers story, a dead dad and a party full of people who cared. Her parents were normal. They were perfect, blended in perfectly. They were kind and sweet and polite and possibly never home because they have busy jobs. Busy respectable jobs. They were respectable people and nothing more because the world would never allow them to be anything more.

One way or another, Porter hears of a halfling rogue with rage in her veins. One way or another he approaches her, tells her that he will help her. He sees her potential, he sees just how great she can be. Kipperlily believes him. She trains with him, learning from him, hooked on to every word of praise he gives her. She is special, she is meant for something great, this school is just unfair and hands out blatant favoritism and she has to stop it.

Kipperlily takes the rage star, lets it fall into her chest and every petty grudge, jealousy and dislike simply turns to wrath and hatred. She gets her party to join her too, leveling them up with the help of porter and jace. She kills them. She stands over their bodies as rage stars are forced onto their chests. As their corpses are violated and they are brought back just as angry as she has always been. Kipperlily feels no guilt, this is what she is meant to do Porter tells her. She is meant to bring greatness.

Lucy is the only one who doesn't come back. That hurts her, in a way different to anything she has ever felt. Lucy always had her back, always had her side when the party was ganging up on her. Lucy was the only one who understood what it was like to be put down and underestimated. But..she stayed dead. She decided being dead was better than being with her.

Kipperlily tries to move on but sorrow and rage just burn deep within her.

The rest is history. But one thing is clear, rage has always festered in the heart of Kipperlily, and when she tried to get help, when shame burned in her veins at how childish her rage and jealousy was, she was failed by the people she was supposed to trust. Her rage was used as a weapon, both against her and against others. She was told she would do great things, that she is special and her spite and jealousy was used in order to get her to do things had her teachers not failed her, maybe she wouldn't have done.

Kipperlily will forever have the blood of her friends, of her party members, on her hands. She will never get rid of that shame, it will stain her hands, it will stain her legacy. She is nothing more than a villain in the history books now, when in reality she was a teenage girl who was failed over, and over again. She was a teenage girl who felt rage, and felt ashamed of her rage because she was told she needed to be kind, complicit. A sweet halfling girl, something she never was and never will be.

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maximwtf · 14 hours

Text

“Taking a break, or two.”

Thoma x Reader

Words: 1970

Google Docs Pages: 3

Warnings: adhd having reader implied but not mentioned directly, emotional hurt/comfort, mostly platonic but if you squint it’s implied yall live together

Opening: You’re cleaning with Thoma, but your attention keeps jumping to anything else but the task at hand. After a few light hearted jokes, it really dawns on you how useless you must seem to him. But was that how he saw the situation though..?

AN// Gn reader! Hehe, sorry I disappeared for a while. Literally haven’t been doing anything for weeks, ultimate adhd coma. Maybe making this one self indulgent, but we’re not gonna tell anyone about that now are we :D. First time writing for him so still practising :) (Ironic that this took me ages to write because I can’t focus for the life of me xddd)

“Taking a break, or two.”

Thoma had invited you to come and clean around the Komore teahouse with him. Not that he desperately needed help, especially not you flailing around while he tried to get things done. But perhaps it was your company he needed more than the actual help. So you had agreed to tagging along.

The sound of Thoma placing something on the table in front of you brought you back from your thoughts. “Housekeeping is something I usually do alone, haha. But I’ll try my best to explain what to do.” He laughed lightly, yet voice still confident. He wasn’t doubting his skills in teaching you, if you happened to need help with anything. “But this should be a simple task either way. Just remember to use this product when cleaning the tabletop. It’s not so strong that it would ruin the shiny coating it has, unlike some other products. Hm, simple?” He smiled, eyes raising back to your form on the other side of the table. One product and one task, can’t be hard. “Yeah! You go and take care of the other tasks. Don’t you even worry about this.” You smiled at the end, repaying his former one. And with that, he was off to get some of the other tasks done.

You sprayed some of the product onto the table, folding the cloth that’d been next to the bottle neatly. Save the clean side of it for drying the surface at the end. But to your misfortune, after barely having started, a noise disturbs your work. A pair of close by neighbours had stopped by outside and started to chat. The noise from the conversation reached inside the teahouse, catching your full attention and pausing any attempt of cleaning the table. Even with the bits and pieces you were able to hear, you could catch up on them talking about the weather today. Which reminded you, you were all out of tea.

The men outside had mentioned something about rain, which you remember hearing about as well. It was supposed to start raining later tonight, lasting all the way to the early morning hours. This meant if you wanted tea tomorrow morning, you'd have to make it to the shops before dark. But since you were occupied now, that would take most of your time for this evening. Which then meant you had to think of the fastest route possible to the stalls if you didn’t want to be drenched by the time you got back home. Well, of all the options, Thoma would be the one likely least happy with that outcome.

But after some time, you were successful in charting the best possible route which shouldn’t take too long. But this thinking session had completely paralysed you, and only the comment from Thoma brought you back to the present. “Excuse me, you over there. Focus please!” A soft chuckle escaped him right after, before he went back to what he’d been doing previously. You shook your head slightly, taking a more firm hold of the cloth in your hand. “Ah, sorry!” And with that you got back to cleaning the table, a crumb of guilt weighing in on your chest after. But doing your best to avoid it and to shine the tabletop.

After cleaning the table Thoma had asked you to bring a cleaned tea set to the cupboard while he went outside to water a few plants and flowers. An easy task, again. And something that shouldn’t take you ages to do either. Your eyes followed Thoma keenly before he disappeared out the door. You wanted to get up and take the tea set away, but it was as if your seat was pulling you back. But what harm could a small break do? Thoma wouldn’t even make it back before you were done, so you had plenty of time to sit for a moment. Your eyes landed on the pristine tea set, a very fancy one at that. It reminded you of a client who’d passed by earlier and told you about a cup they’d broken by accident. You’d thought of telling Thoma about it earlier but had forgotten because of the list of other things you had undone. A sigh escaped your lips. The next time you saw him, you’d make sure to quickly point it out, if he didn’t already know.

Your train of thought was interrupted by Thoma walking back in. The tea set sat gracefully on the side of the table, not having moved an inch. You took a quick breath, eyes moving up to Thoma before swiftly standing up. You were about to apologise again but he was able to interrupt you with a light hum mixed with a chuckle. He didn’t seem angry with you, but that didn’t make you feel any better. Not after you watched him take the tea set and bring it to the cupboard himself. If you hadn’t felt useless before, you did now. But maybe if you tried a little harder with the next task, to get at the very least something done instead of having Thoma help you with it.

You helped him with some minor tasks to get something done, handing him items when he needed them. Nothing he couldn’t have done himself, but it made you feel somewhat useful.

“Hey, we still have these sets to organise and shelf. Then we’re all done!” Thoma said, catching your attention swiftly in the otherwise rather silent space. You give him a nod and forced a smile to flash at him. “We got it!” You chime before he gave you a cheerful nod and disappeared behind the front desk for a moment. A doubtful sigh escaped your lips before feeling the need to escape for a moment. The feeling of guilt from earlier hadn’t gone anywhere and after following Thoma around like a clueless puppy for the rest of the evening, you didn’t really feel up for much.

The pressure of knowing he’d return soon from around the corner finally made you crack just enough to slip outside. You walked slowly to the seats outside, sitting down against the wall of the house. Rays of the setting sun hit the very edges of the terrace still, but they didn’t provide any warmth for you. The seat you’d chosen happened to be in the shade, it felt the most peaceful. As if it was the most out of sight spot you could have found to sit with your feelings.

You leaned your head back, eyes closed to enjoy the fresh air. It felt awful to know Thoma could see how useless you could get, and also know that he wouldn’t have the heart to actually tell you if it bothered him. And it wasn’t like you behaved like that on purpose either, you did honestly try to complete the tasks you said you would. But some days just happened to be like this. At times you feared he’d stop asking you to come along to do things or stop asking for help if you kept disappointing him. Or at least what felt like disappointing him. Especially when this always happened when you were asked to do something, no matter how nicely he asked.

Some time passed and with it the sun kept slowly setting, last bits of golden light hitting the leaves of nearby trees. It didn’t take long for a certain someone to find you. The sound of his shoes hitting the wooden deck of the terrace echoed lightly, his steps slowing down as he came closer. “Now where did you disappear off to?” He asked before taking a step closer, squatting to your level. “And how come you’re sitting here all alone?” More questions thrown at you, the latter more of an indirect request to join you. “Just taking a break”, you replied with a slight cringe at the end. Who were you to take a break after not doing anything? “Haha, well I wouldn’t have minded joining. May I?” He finally asks, to which you reply with a nod. “Ah, I wasn’t planning on staying for long.” As if you felt like you had any control over the lengths of your breaks when the overwhelming feeling of guilt weighed you down like a boulder.

A subtle silence fell over the two of you after Thoma settled down next to you. There was a light breeze in the air but it wasn’t cold enough to chase either of you back into the house. Thoma took a breath, though it took him a moment to actually say anything. “Is…everything okay?” He asked, eyes keenly looking at you but not demanding any sort of eye contact. You looked at his lap, not finding the courage to answer his question truthfully while looking at him. “Do you ever think I’m…useless? Or lazy?” You ended up asking instead of answering his initial question. You had just enough time to cast him a look to see the lost expression on his face, eyes a little widened. “No, of course not. Do I have a reason to?” He asks, now more keenly looking at you. Like he felt the need to thoroughly figure this out. “What is this about?” Thoma asked, his brows ever so slightly furrowed in worry. “Well…” You started but had to stop and sigh before rewording your thoughts. “Were you displeased with me today? At any point, did you feel I was just..useless?” And maybe that was just the same question as before, just reworded. But he didn’t fall for this one either, maybe he was being honest…”No, no? I asked you to join me today, I’d never demand anything of you.” He said, the muscles on his shoulders easing out a little as he began to put the pieces together in his mind. “But you said- To pay attention-” You tried to start again but this time he interrupted you. “No, no! I meant nothing with it, honest.” The poor man looked almost frightened at the fact that you even dared to think that way. “Listen, you were a lot of help today. The amount of work you did or didn’t do did not take away from the company you provided. I know how you handle tasks.” He smiled, calming himself at the same time.

You stared at him blankly for a moment before pouting. “I’m sorry I assumed you- would have thought that way.” You were able to mumble before being brought into a hug. He chuckled lightly, ruffling the back of your head slightly. “Haha, that’s enough. There was no harm done.” He said, pulling back a little. You stared at him for a moment before he asked if you were going to be okay. You both knew the answer was yes but a simple nod never hurt anyone.

“Maybe we should end the chores for today, hm?” Thoma offered and you took up on it almost immediately. The release from the last tasks eased something in you, allowing you to pay attention to the weather. It was rather late in the evening, but the rain hadn’t seemed to arrive yet. A few dark clouds in the distance, but it would be a while before they’d reach the teahouse. You’d still have time to get the tea if you left now.

Turning to Thoma you asked if he’d be willing to tag along, if he wanted to. Mostly because you still felt like you had ruined a part of today’s hangout by being so absent, even if he’d deny that. “Of course, come on. I can brew us some when we get home.” Thoma flashed you a gentle smile before standing up and offering you a hand, which you took. And held for most of the walk to the stalls.

#thoma #thoma x reader #genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #x reader #thoma genshin impact #thoma genshin

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