#I had a really horrible day and this sorta just HAPPENED | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

ryomens-vixen · 7 months

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Contains: NSFW, Stalking, Yandere tendencies, Knife play, Blood Kink, Predator and Prey Kink, Major Character d3ath, Angst, mentions of Gor3, P0rn w/plot, daddy kink, breeding kink.

Summary: You haven't heard from your Ex Boyfriend Suguru for a year, he deleted on all social media and even changed his number the day you broke up with him. Even Satoru and Shoko haven't heard from him....until you get a mysterious call on Halloween night.

(Small warning, I have not written a full story in a long long time please bare with me I know this is gonna suck 🥲.)

It all started just a year ago, Celebrating your 5th anniversary with your high school sweet Suguru Geto on Halloween night. You didn't think you'd be spending it at a Halloween party, but nonetheless in your skimpy Angel costume that showed just the right amount of skin didn't cease to catch the attention on lookers. As if your devilishly handsome boyfriend wasn't standing right next to you... No seriously he had a devil costume on. Of course it had to be at Satoru's house though, All the beautiful women, sloppy drunk men, the smell of booze and weed really gave it that "Satoru" party touch, even the whole gang was there, Nanami, Shoko, MeiMei, Haibara.

It was all great until everything went horribly wrong. Don't you remember? All of you had sat down to watch a good ole horror movie after all the party goers left. Satoru pushes the tape in while, whilst teasing you and Shoko about not getting too scared.

"Ya'Know if you get too scared you can hold onto me Shoko, Unlike (Y/N) she's got my better half."

"Oh, Shut Up Satoru, You're the one that screams like a girl."

"Hey!"

"Hah, And what does that make you, Satoru?"

While they bickered and argued amongst themselves you were playing more attention to the "movie" playing. It was a room- A familiar room in fact it looked an awfully lot like the guest bedroom upstairs. Giving it your full attention, two people came through the door feverishly kissing one another... It look a lot like...

"mmmf... Suguru"

Just like you remembered that night. You were yelling and screaming at Suguru in front of all of his friends as he begged, pleaded for you to believe that wasn't him and that he was with you the whole night. But that wasn't true- at some point of the night both for you were off chit chatting with your respective friend group. So technically he wasn't always with you that night, but nonetheless it was one of the worst nights of your life and just as equally worse for Suguru. Once you had storm out on him the room fell silent as Suguru Stood there trembling, his fist gripping at small square box buried in his pocket as your hurtful words were on repeat.

"You're cheating on me?! H...how cou- why.. Why wou- Suguru, I thought you loved me?!" You snapped at him, Your voice having a shriek like tone to it.

"I do love you, damn it! You know that isn't me!" Suguru reached out to you desperately. His face overtaken with panic and concern, disbelief in his eyes.

"Don't-!" You snatched your arm away from his firm grip.

"Baby... Mamas, come on that's not-"

"You're dead to me Suguru Geto, dead to me!"

While all of this was happening... A certain somebody just couldn't help, but smirk to themselves

And just like that your five year long relationship came to a close. Now here you are a year later on the same day reminiscing on what could've been. You never heard a thing from Suguru afterwards, I mean how could you? His number was immediately blocked along with all of his social medias. He never even showed up to your house to get his clothes out your shared closet, Maybe he truly didn't care for your relationship as much as you did, but no worries Satoru and Shoko helped box up his belongings sometime ago.

"Yo!"

Oh and You have a new roommate... Housemate. Satoru was so worried about you living alone after experiencing such a traumatic heartbreak that he sorta just moved himself in. You didn't mind it because it was such a familiar face that you got to see every day. Satoru plopped onto the bed wrapping his arms around your waist to drag you into a spooning position as he kissed the side of your head. Completely knocking you out of your train of thought all of your thoughts of Suguru washed away in an instant.

Did I forgot to mention that Satoru was also your knew boy toy? He was there you throughout the entire grieving process almost as if he couldn't believe Suguru would cheat on you. Maybe this was all happening too fast, Maybe there was a reason for Satoru to jump straight into action, Maybe you don't want to think about how suspicious it was, but it's nice to have someone to hold you this close on nights like these.

"Hey! pay attention to me damn it! Heh, what's going on in that pretty little head of yours?" You were so trapped in your head again not noticing Satoru was practically eating away at your neck by how bruised and wet it was, until he spoke up.

"Oh, Toru.. I- I'm sorry I was just thinking about-"

"Him again? Pfft- Babe, Listen there's no need to worry about Suguru anymore. He did something so unspeakable to a beautiful girl like you. Besides if I were him, don't you think you'd be married by now?"

You were rendered speechless, satoru always new how to shut down those thoughts of Suguru. He was right, he did cheat on you after all so why spend Halloween night mopping around about it? Maybe it's time to have a little fun.

As soon as the bedroom began to fill with moans, Satoru smashing his lips against yours, hands slipping underneath the Halloween themed night gown you wore, firmly gripping the fat of your ass while grinding his stuff bulge against your clothed pussy. Suddenly the doorbell rang more than likely it was some trick or treating going on, but they could wait right? No, the second Satoru took his shirt off the doorbell rang again cause satoru to let out a frustrated groan.

"Sounds like somebody needs to go pass out candy." you teased, Giving him a quick kiss beife he left.

"Fine- But you better not go anywhere I'm not done with you~" And with a wink he left , leaving you equally as frustrated.

Rolling over in bed you grabbed your phone off the night stand to check up on Shoko. It's been a few weeks since you've heard from her, maybe she was wrapped up in her college studies? That would make sense if it hadn't been for utahime. You tried calling her too, but the phone just went straight to voicemail too. Maybe they broke up? Changed their numbers? No that doesn't sound like either of them. Meimei would have told you by now if that was the case. Something just isn't right about all of this maybe you should ask Satoru? Speaking of him what's taking so long?

As you were about to get up to check on him, your phone rang- an unknown number was calling, maybe it was shoko? You answered.

"Hello?"

"Hey, I don't know if I dialed the right number, but is this Shoko?"

"Huh? Who is this? A friend of hers? I haven't heard from her either, I'm sorry you have the wrong number though."

"Yeah, Shoko and I were really close. I just need someone to talk too."

"Well... How about you tell me you name first, and when I can get in contact w-"

"No, (Y/N) I want to fuckin talk to you!"

There was a brief moment of silence you could almost hear has fast your heart pounded against your chest, how your stomach twists and churns, throat becoming quite dry, blood rushing with adrenaline. Maybe this was Satoru pulling a Halloween prank on you? Instead of getting a treat maybe this is the trick? But that wouldn't make any sense he was passing out candy to the kids at the... At the door.

"You better now hang up this phone, (Y/N) unless you want to see your little boyfriend again."

That was enough fuel to send the fear of God throughout your body, panic ensued, you walked around the house for any sight of Satoru only to find that the front door was left wide open. There was blood on the welcome home mat with a scattered bucket of candy. All you could do was stand there fight or flight beginning replaced with freeze in an instant as a the fear that ran through your body was now washed over with dread.

"W.. Where's Toru? Wh- When he comes back he's definitely going to kick your ass! Who are you! "

"Poor, Poor Satoru. I guess all those muscles didn't help much. Now I'm sick you asking me all these fucking questions-"

With that the phone hung up, the door immediately closed from behind and in front you was a masked person, dressed as a famous movie slasher named Ghostface. Taking a step back you nervously laughed somewhere in you thought this was a prank Satoru was pulling just to scare you like the old days, but another part of you was screaming that this wasn't just a prank. Everything was confirmed once the mystery person dropped their phone, yanking the mask off revealing long disheveled black hair, depressed eyes, dark circles, dry but somehow plump lip, those broad shoulders.. It's almost like your body yearning to reach out to him, but your heart aches at the sight of Suguru.

"Geto..." Your voice hitched when Suguru snapped back at you with venom in his voice.

"Don't you dare call me that-" Suguru pitched the bridge of his nose inhaling then letting go as if he was trying to calm himself down. "(Y/N)...its Su-gu-ru you know this, Doll. Now how about you answer a question for me?" The step he took forward was absolutely hair-raising, causing you to take a few steps back yourself. We're you scared? Hell yes? The Suguru before you who once looked like he wouldn't hurt a fly let alone you. Now he looks so gloomy and his voice was so unnerving every word he spoke had a hint of coldness to it sending you and uneasy feeling straight to your gut.

"Let's start with Satoru, Since you were so quick to let him get in your pants, in our bed, why is that!? Huh? You care about him so much maybe you were the one cheating on me?"

"Now you know that's not true Ge-!" He lunged forward at you swiping the knife he hid across your cheek. Again frozen in place after feeling the sharp pain, raising a hand to feel for a wound only to be hit with a stinging sensation met with a wet warm feeling against your hand. This has to be a nightmare, the red that coats your hand did indeed confirm that this was no night this was real and... This definitely wasn't a prank. Your Horrified gaze met his bone chilling gaze, watching him bring the knife to his mouth licking your blood off of it.

"Taste good, Doll face... Now talk or you'll end up like your stupid little boyfriend and Shoko."

What did he do? Why Shoko? What did he do to Shoko and Satoru? All these questions ran through your head a thousand miles per hour barely being able to think straight.

"G- S.. Suguru I never cheated on you, I loved you, You're the one that cheated on me and you know it!" You shouted to him.

"Tsk, tsk, tsk- I never cheated on you, you bitch! *inhale* *Exhale* I'm sorry baby, I didn't mean that. You're not a bitch- you're just confused. How about we play a little game? It's called Trick or Treat, but we play it my goddamn way." Suguru aggressively grabbed your wrist with an almost bruising grip, pulling you towards the back of the house where he'd turn the patio light on for you to see none other than Satoru himself. Tied up in one the chair, mouth duct taped, the front of his hair now red with his own blood and a pumpkin basket in his lap. You watched in horror as he picked Satoru's head up hearing him wince in pain.

"Here's how it's gonna go, He has two options either he tells the truth about that fuckin night, or he ends up just. Like. Poor. Shoko. And You my sweetheart pick Trick or Treat and I'll let this spoiled blue eyed piece of shit go."

"Oh.. And don't try to call the police I already cut the phone line." He said coldly, while yucking the tape off of satoru's mouth.

"Toru... W-what is he talking about?"

"Baby, look- I don't know, we haven't heard from this guy in a year, Heh This poorly package piece of shit has clear-" Satoru winced in pain again once Suguru's fist connected with his head.

"How about you use that pretty little mouth for something more useful than talking shit? Hm? Like telling the truth. Trust me if I got it out of Shoko what makes you time I won't get it out of you?"

"Please stop this is crazy! Just- just tell me?!"

"You want the truth, (Y/N)?! Well I'll tell you EXACTLY what Shoko told me-"

"Suguru.. Wait don't-"

"Or what?! She'll find how what a real piece of work you are? How you ditched your own party, had Shoko put a black wig on you-"

"Shut up!"

"How she helped doll you up to look like me?!"

"Suguru shut the fu-"

"Threw on some contacts for the added affect, took some cheap whore up stairs, taped it-"

"You knew I wanted her first!"

"And the cat is out of the fuckin bag! So what is it gonna be, baby? Trick.. Or fucking treat?"

All you could do was stand there in disbelief watching Suguru become more crazed by the minute, and Satoru become more frantic as he looked at you with pleading eyes.

"You... You didn't Toru.. You didn't-"

"Tell her, ToRu"

"Damn it, Yes! I did- I did! But Suguru knew goddamn well I wanted you first, I always wanted you, but you still fell for him."

"What are you 12?! Oh that's rich, yeah I knew you did, but you knew I liked her too. I gave you the option of sharing her, but you're such a greedy stubborn little shit that you just can't stand the thought of sharing your toys? How's that for a fuckin analogy?! I'm waiting (Y/N) Trick or Treat!?"

"(Y/N), Baby, don't pick please!"

"TRICK OR TREAT!?"

"Please, (Y/N) he's fuckin Crazy!"

The whole situation was so overwhelming like you had no time to think, of course you wanted to be mad at Satoru, he literally ruined your entire relationship, but that wasn't something you'd want him dead about. Treat? Maybe if you picked treat he won't hurt him, you thought to yourself.

"I'm running out of Patiences, Doll!"

"(Y/N), DON'T PICK TRE-!"

"TREAT! TREAT SUGURU!"

There was an ominous silence between the tree of you, then a smirk appeared across Suguru face and it sent a chill down you spine. "Good Girl" Suguru said with a menacing tone. Satoru started to panic, shaking his head repeatedly saying no as Suguru tossed the basket from his lap, grabbing Satoru by his hair again, then jabbed the knife he held directly into his abdomen, continuously stabbing into him until he was completely gutted.

You screamed in terror begging Suguru to stop in hopes of getting him to listen to reason, but Suguru was far beyond reasoning. He was completely gone, where oh where could the old Suguru had gone? Oh that's right- Today, on this very night a year ago where you stormed out on him, shattered his soul, and took his beating heart with you. No you had to reason to cry- all those nights he cried, all the times he stalked you at work, all the times he snuck into your house to watch you sleep only to see you in bed with his best friend? You shattered this man, no you killed the old Suguru.

"Sugu, Sugu, Please Stop, please stop, oh god.. Toru-" you weeped while holding onto Suguru from behind. Stopping mid-swing at the sound of the nickname you gave him. With a smirk on his face again Suguru turned his attention to you and your delicate arms gripping his torso.

"Hmph, would'ya look at that? I guess it's time for my "Trick"-"

The creaking of the kitchen table accompanied by your pretty cries filled Suguru's ears with complete and utter joy as he pounded his cock, into your cock drunken pussy. He loved watching you squirm underneath him, oh how he missed the sound of you moaning for him, vice gripping the fat of your hips , watching your hands wonder desperately for something to hold onto. Hell if you could even think at the moment you would have thought Suguru was hate fucking you.

"Fuckfuckfuck, I knew it, ugh... I knew she missed me, Daddy missed you too." He reached between your legs pressing his fingers against your already swollen clit to vigorously rub circles on it while bullying your pussy. He loved hearing the squelching sounds your soaking wet pussy made it's most like "she" was talking to him and of course he'd definitely respond back.

"A-Ah S- Sugu! Too Much!" your words forced out of your throat by another bliss filled moan joining the unexpected, but intense orgasm causing your body to jolt, your walls squeezed around his cock, as your juices shot out of you drenching his abdomen. "You dirty girl, Squirting all over me, do it again, do it again, again again for me~" Suguru continued on not giving you the slightest of breaks he wanted to fuck you until your mind was mush, until your pussy "remembered" the shape of of cock down to the veins, maybe he could fuck you until you completely forgot about this night?

But you were moaning so much it began to annoy him, he could barely hear the sounds you were making below. "shhh, shh, how about being a- Mmmf, little more quieter- Ugh-Ah-fuck trying to hear what my babygirl has to fuckin say~" his harsh words went straight to your cockdrunk head, then straight down to your core, and before you could think of utter a response he quickly put a rough hand over your mouth to muffle you. "Listen.. Listen to my baby girl, Ooo fuck yeah, talk to daddy."

He gazed down at the way his cock slide in and out of you, his face scrunched up biting the inside of his bottom lip. Both of you listening to the sopping wet sounds "I love you too baby, yeah, you gonna milk daddy? Milk daddy for all he's worth?" God this all felt so wrong, but it also felt so fucking good, felt so right. You were in just as much ecstasy as him if not, more especially with the way his pace quickened the smacking of skin to skin became louder, a but rougher actually, you could hear the way Suguru grunted and growled, throwing his head back, his grip now bruising your plump thighs. "FuckmeFuckmeFuckme, pretty girl, so tight baby, you keep pulling me back in- Oh Fuck.."

Your were so close to cumming again until he abruptly stopped leaving his cock deep in your cervix. Suddenly he leaned forward laying his entire weight on you, bringing his arms around you in what seemed like a hug while his head rested in your soft breasts, almost feeling your beating heart against his own.

"Su.. *Pant* P.. Please I need-"

"You really thought you could break up with me? Me?! And think that this sweet...candied pussy wouldn't miss daddy?" Suguru was completely out of his right mind, drunk on your pussy. I mean who wouldn't be? He spent a whole year with you, without being deep in your guts, without your touch, your voice, your sweet beautiful moans. Suddenly you felt his arm tighten around you in a bear hug "Listen.. Listen to how much she misses. her. fuckin. Daddy-" each word was met with a harsh, nerve racking thrust of his hips.

Suguru wasn't going to stop anytime soon, no matter how much you came, dug crescents into his back, drew blood, screamed, cried tears of pleasure. No he wasn't stopping anytime soon not until he was completely milked, until his seed was so deep that you had to have his baby, but until he pumps you full of his seed this deranged man wasn't stopping.

He came yet again inside of you- what was this the 4th time? Suguru and you were desperately panting for air until he felt him move his hips again. You could just feel his heavy breath again your ear this time. Over the sloppy sound of skin to skin contact the last thing you heard Suguru say before uttering a word yourself was "I wanna Fuckin Tear You Apart"

Tag list: @gojos-thot-patrol @biscuitsngravie @midnightshade @blkkizzat @candycandy00 @satkuna @callm3senpaii

I had too much fun with the dialogue. Happy Halloween🎃👻🍬

#jujutsu kaisen #jjk #jujustsu kaisen x reader #jjk x reader #geto x reader #kinktober #suguru geto #geto suguru x you #getou suguru x reader #geto angst

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angel-of-the-moons · 8 months

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A Rose Under the Moon

Moon Knight System (Marc/Steven/Jake) x Fem!Reader

CW/TW: None (sorta?), Mentions of phantom pains, loneliness

A/N: This is gonna be multi-fic. I'll probably be irregular with uploads, but I will try to update this when I can!

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Chapter 1:

The Scholar

Fate was a funny thing. Sometimes it could give you exactly what you wanted, other times… the exact opposite.

The same was true for soulmates. Everybody had a different way of being marked. Some, from birth, others later. You’ve had yours since the moment you came out of your mother’s womb.

Right there, on the inside of your left wrist.

Three crescent moons, the slope of each resting on the others. Sometimes, one of the moons was full. It rotated almost like a clock. Sometimes one would stay full for days, other times merely one day or just a few hours. You weren’t sure why. You were positive it had something to do with your soulmate.

Especially the random phantom pains and bruises on different spots of your body. You used to get them as a child, one minute you’d be playing on the playground and then it would feel like you’d been whipped with a belt, or hit with a stick. At first children services had been called because of your phantom bruising; until they observed one such situation where you were coloring a picture and a red mark suddenly made itself visible, along with the pain associated with it. That was when the doctor suggested those pains were indeed connected to whatever was happening to your soulmate.

What kind of torture were they going through? The thought constantly ate at you as you grew up.

The worst ones were when you were at the stove cooking one day and all of a sudden–wham!--you were doubled over in your kitchen, clutching your body as you felt like you were being impaled by an ice pick in different parts of your chest and midsection.

But every time you got those pains, there was a pulse from your marking. And then… nothing. You heard that some people got phantom pains from their soulmates, some could share a telepathic link… others could simply sense when they were in proximity. The connections all varied from mate to mate; as did the appearance of each mark.

Yours, was the crescent moons. Some had animal shapes, others had stars, sometimes even just initials of their destined partner’s names, or a type of compass pointing in their general direction. Others, you came to envy, had a timer. Like a digital stopwatch that would count down until the day they met. You really wish you had one of those. At least then you’d know...

Some lucky people found their soulmates fresh into adulthood, right out of high school. The even luckier ones happened upon theirs during childhood and stayed close.

Here you were, sitting at nearly 25, and hadn’t even felt a tickle that possibly told you your soulmate was nearby. Even when you hopped countries! You really envied your classmates who got married shortly after high school or fresh into college, right about now…

You hoped and prayed to whoever would listen–anybody–that you would find them soon; not when you were old and gray and couldn’t run on the beach, climb a tree, or go do… something with such little precious time left over. You waited every day, on bated breath for when your soulmate would swoop in and save you from your boring, monotonous life.

Unless you were rejected. You’d never personally met anybody who had been rejected, but you have read in online forums from people who *have* been rejected, or personally knew someone who had been. Their existences sounded horrible. Gray, bleak… they weren’t truly living, just… existing. Like a robot running on default mode.

Some found love outside their soulmate bonds, and married and lived happily enough. Those were the ones who didn’t actively look for their soulmates, couldn’t find their soulmates… or their soulmates died before they met.

The pain felt from a sudden snap of your bond was supposed to be the most debilitating pain in your life, your soul feeling like half of it was shredded, stomped on, and then set on fire before being snuffed out entirely. It was supposedly easier to bear if you and your soulmate have never met.

Which is why, after you recovered that day in your kitchen, you frantically checked your mark to see if it was still there. Thankfully, it was. But you cursed your soulmate–whoever she, he, or they were–for doing whatever crazy shenanigans it was that they were doing to get hurt in such a way.

But despite that… despite the waiting and the longing and the phantom pains; the aching feeling in your chest, you stopped checking your mark as religiously as you used to. Sometimes, you covered it entirely, a depressing melancholy feeling taking root in your stomach and growing until its branches reached your heart whenever you looked at it. It wasn’t entirely uncommon, the feelings you were harboring. The desperation for your other half, the need to feel completed–to feel whole–was felt by millions worldwide… maybe even farther than that.

Some suggested therapy. It was a common enough occurrence that there was a specialization in the psychiatric field for soulmates who felt the depression and loneliness of not having their soul’s other half with them.

Malattia dell'anima, the doctor-y name for it was. Soul Sickness; literally.

But you didn’t want to be doped up on medication that made you so numb to your feelings that you might not–on the small chance you would–be able to feel when you eventually met your soulmate.

If you ever did.

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You sighed as you leaned on the counter, scrolling through forums, social media posts, and memes on your phone. Your mark was covered with a braided bracelet you made on a whim four months ago. Sometimes… not looking at it made it easier to bear.

You were knocked out of your melancholic stupor when the bell to your little book shop dinged.

You straightened your posture and gave the most polite smile you could.

“Hi!” You said. “Welcome to Here Today Books!”

The man who entered, gave you a charming–but slightly sheepish–smile, his amber eyes lighting up from behind his dark-rimmed glasses. “Oh! Hello.” He replied, his accent that you’ve grown accustomed to since moving to London, and gave a small wave of his hand. He was dressed in a button up shirt with some kind of gray overcoat worn over it, and some faded jeans. His posture was slightly nervous, you felt. He must be an introvert.

“You looking for anything in particular?” You chirp, leaning on the checkout counter with your elbows. “We got history, mathematics, sci-fi… romance?”

The last part was accentuated by a hearty chuckle on your part with some accompanied eyebrow-waggling, earning what you could swear was a blush on the man’s cheeks. “Oh–uhm…” He said. “N-no romance, I’m ‘fraid. Uh…”

You tilt your head at him. “Oh! Well, whatever you’re looking for I’m sure I have *something* on the subject.” You click your tongue as you look at the different shelves stacked high to the ceiling, a rolling ladder tucked in the far corner. “My shop has a “try before you buy” kinda policy. You can pick up a book and read it in one of the nooks near the front windows. I also have a complimentary tea, and coffee menu. The snacks are priced however, because I make ‘em fresh to order in the upstairs kitchen.”

He seemed impressed that such a tiny shop had such a wide variety of options available in the cramped space. “You cook upstairs?” He asked curiously, tilting his head so one of his raven curls bounces over his forehead.

“Yes, I, uhm… kind of live in the flat upstairs. Easier than renting separately, y’know?” You chuckle awkwardly. “I figured offering snacks and drinks would help entice people in. If not to buy a book, but at least a muffin or crepe.”

“So you also use your flat as a business space?”

“In a sense, I suppose I do.” You chuckled again, this time with a bit more confidence.

“Um… Forgive me if this is rude, but umm…” He shuffled on his feet, awkwardly looking to the side. “Are you American? It’s just that, with your accent and everything…”

You giggle softly. “It’s alright. I don’t mind. Yes, I’m from America.”

“Oh! That’s interesting. How does someone from America come to own a little book shop in London of all places? Er, if you’re comfortable with answering that question, too, I mean, uh…”

You smile at him, flashing your teeth a bit. “Nah, it’s a valid question. I inherited this shop from… get this… my great aunt. Real storybook, right? Totally pun-derful. An absolute tale.”

He shakes his head, laughing a little. “That certainly does seem like the opening plotline to a story, doesn’t it? Flying across the pond to inherit a property from an estranged relative you hardly knew…”

“...trying to keep the business thriving in a rapidly obsolete medium, the protagonist is crafty, plucky, but optimistic as they try to stay afloat by themselves, to keep their relative’s memory alive?” You finish for him, your smirk turning into a full-blown grin.

His laugh is a little bit louder now. “Exactly! You could write a novel!”

“Oh, but it would be so boring!” You sigh, dramatically laying over the counter space, arms hanging over the edge. “Just sitting here, day in, day out as I sell children’s books, crappy western romances, cheap “gourmet” coffee, and some slightly burned muffins? Just looking at cat pictures on the internet as the ceiling fan squeaks in ambience?”

“Oh, well, uh, when you put it that way…”

You giggle again. “I get some pretty decent business. I get the students from uni, some bookworms who refuse to retire the medium of actual books made of actual paper…”

“Oh, I know! I don’t get how people can read on their phones! The blue light is atrocious to stare at for too long! I love the feel of paper underneath my fingertips, the smell of the ink…” He sighs almost wistfully.

“Precisely!” You say animatedly, snapping your fingers. “Phones, laptops, and tablets just aren't the same, y’know? There will always be book enthusiasts. A book doesn’t run on batteries, a book won’t shatter if you drop it, or grip too hard… All you need is a good set of eyes or readers, some good light… and you’re set.”

“Oh, exactly! That’s exactly what I tell Marc when he lectures me about owning too many books! My collection “is a hazard” he tells me. Just because I have a few stacks lying ‘round doesn’t mean they’re gonna collapse on you and kill you!” He sighs, throwing his hands up exasperatedly. He clears his throat, and says awkwardly. “Marc is, uh… He’s my… brother. We… live together?”

“Well, tell your brother that he is a heathen. That books are an absolute treasure! You don’t have to pay some dumb subscription to access all the knowledge in that one book, just pick it up and flip a page!” You scoff, waving a hand. “Books–while yes, they can take up some space–are wonderful. And you can never own too many!”

The man laughs, nodding. “Precisely. Marc just likes to complain because he’s always bumbling into them! He’s more of a TV kinda bloke, you know?”

“Oh, yeah, I’ve met my fair share of those kinds of people.” You giggle.

“Oh, uhm.” He fumbles with his satchel bag and holds out his hand. “My name’s Steven. Steven… Steven Grant. It’s nice to meet you, Miss..?”

You chuckle and tell him your name.

“It’s nice to meet you Steven, Steven, Steven Grant!” You joke, earning another laugh as you shake his hand.

“Now,” You started. “What are you looking for today?”

“Oh! Do you have any books on, uhm. Egypt? Ancient Egypt? Archaeology, mythology, things of that like…”

“Actually, I think we do. I keep those kinds of subjects close to the History section.” You step down from your stool, waving a hand for him to follow you as you lead him through the small labyrinth of bookshelves (some almost barely too small for more than one person).

You reach the shelves that contain the books and volumes on said subject. Some even leatherbound. You really should check inventory more often… You had more books on the subject than you thought. But then again, they may have also been left over from your great aunt’s stock. She loved reading on this sort of stuff. You remembered the few times she would read to you fables from some of these books. Strange, you could just barely recall one, now, actually… You shrug the twinge of childhood nostalgia off.

“Looks like I have more than I…” Your voice falls silent when you turn around and see Steven’s eyes already scanning each shelf–all the way to the ceiling–looking almost like a kid in a candy shop. You chuckle and it snaps him out of his trance.

“Uhm, oh. Yes! This is… er. Good! Great! I mean…” He rubbed the back of his neck slightly. “What I mean to say is that you have a very interesting selection of books!”

“Ha… Go ham on ‘em. Just don’t mind the dust… These books don’t get looked at too often. Rolling ladder is available for the higher shelves you can’t reach. Reading nooks are up front, and just let me know if you want any refreshments or snacks, or if you want to buy anything. I’ll either be up front, upstairs, or in back… Just press the buzzer on the counter if I’m not at the register.” You say, jabbing your thumb in the vague direction you came from. “And if you get lost in my little maze here…”

You click your tongue. “I should start offering some twine, huh?”

“Because I’m Theseus on his way out of the Minotaur’s Labyrinth?” Steven grinned at you, his eyes twinkling.

“More like I don’t wanna find your mummified remains tucked in between one of these shelves, eh?” You say, grinning at your pun.

Steven shook his head, his curls bouncing as he does so. “Oh, I doubt Marc or Jake would let me stay here that long.”

You pat his shoulder and squeak by him, leaving him alone to peruse your selection.

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Steven stayed in the back for nearly an hour. And when he came back he sat down right at the front nook, ordering a blueberry-cinnamon muffin with some Earl Grey tea sweetened with honey, no sugar. You mad a joke about having some Egyptian licorice tea somewhere, to which he started on a little infomercial type rant about how the Pharaohs used to drink it all the time back during the ancient days…

After about four hours (and three more muffins) he stepped up to your counter with all of his books in hand, a happy grin on his face. For sure, you thought, if this man had a tail, it’d be wagging like mad!

“I would ask if you found everything okay, but…” You eyed the stack of books. “...It looks like you kinda did!”

He rubbed the back of his neck. “Yeah, ah… I got a little absorbed so I decided to take ‘em all…”

“Well, there is no return policy, but there is a trade-in policy. You can either get store credit or physical notes. Have to keep in business somehow right?” You shrug awkwardly.

“Ha ha… Yes, I understand. How much for all of them?” Steven beams, his attention was grabbed though, a moment later to the tiny pencil cup labeled "bookmarks". He plucked one out, and it was a pressed rose; the edges of the petals painted gold and vacuum-sealed with a colorful piece of paper within.

“Like those, huh?” You smile.

“O-oh yes… very much. It’s beautiful.” He said softly.

“Each mark is fifty-pence.” You say politely.

Steven smiled and placed the bookmark on the top of his book stack.

You ring up the books, and he happily pays for them with a wad of notes (also covering the muffins he scarfed down).

“I have a bag you can take, if you like. Canvas. I wouldn’t feel right if you had to lug all of those home!” You chuckle.

“Oh, it’s alright!” Steven grins, hoisting the books into his arms like they’re nothing after tucking his new bookmark within the safety of one of the heavier books.

He either works out a lot, or the man has simply done this so many times with so many different books he no longer feels the weight of them.

“I live close by, my flat is just down the block.”

“Oh! So I guess I can expect to hear from you more, huh?” You smile, holding the door open for him as he awkwardly waddles out of your shop.

“I certainly hope so!” He grins at you, giving you a curt nod as he walks down the misty London sidewalk.

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Later that night, after you had closed up shop, counted your earnings and stored them in the safe; you went upstairs to unwind for the day. You make a quick dinner, eat, and then shower.

While showering, you notice a different moon on your mark is full. This morning it was the bottom right one. Now, it’s the top one. It wasn’t uncommon for your mark to go outside its usual clockwise rotation, so you shrugged it off, grabbing a towel as you step out of the stall.

Once you laid in bed, putting on something from one of your streaming services (like, come on, who even uses cable anymore, right?), you propped your cheek in your hand; your elbow supporting you as you stared almost blankly at the screen.

You didn’t think much of anything that night. Even the socially awkward bookworm who had walked into your store today looking into the selection of books you had that rarely anyone ever touched.

Or at least you didn’t think much of anything. Until you felt like you were being run through with a red-hot poker straight into your abdomen. These weren’t menstrual or ovulatory cramps, those were in a different spot. These pains were around your stomach, just under the last few bones of your ribcage.

This was pain caused by your mark.

Your soulmate was hurt again.

You curled on your side, gasping for air while you waited for the phantom sensation to pass. Once it did, you spread out on your blankets, wiping the sweat from your brow.

“What the hell did you get yourself into now, you reckless dummy?” You ask the dead air of your bedroom.

Chapter 2: Link

#moon knight #marc spector x reader #jake lockley x reader #steven grant x reader #steven grant #marc spector #jake lockley #moon knight mcu #moon knight x reader #soulmate au #my writing

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cinnamonest · 9 months

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Yandere Profile - Mika

I have this rare condition where when a boy is soft and shy I reflexively must make him a horrible little deranged gremlin and then subject others to the horrors I have created, it's incurable I'm afraid

//yandere, dubcon/sorta noncon, somnophilia, abduction, descriptions of psychological problems, very brief/vague potential emetophobia trigger

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What are they generally like? Lucid, aware? Obsessive? How do they behave?

In addition to his obvious shyness and timidness, the primary characteristic that defines Mika's behavior with you might come as quite a surprise to anyone who knows him: Mika has low impulse control.

Not a trait you'd expect, nor is it what most who know him would ever think of him. He often gives off quite the opposite impression, being a very diligent worker and often refraining from the unsavory behaviors many of his peers engage in.

But, see, it's not something that's ever really been an issue. That's the thing — this lack of impulse control is not so much a reflection of his character, and more so due to the simple fact that for the majority of his life, he has never had very strong impulses, and whenever he does, it's never to do anything morally wrong.

He's always been good-natured and benevolent, always wanting to please people and help people, and can't recall a time where he's ever really wanted to do something that harms someone. Even typical human nature impulses like stealing or lying don't really come to him, he's just that naturally sweet and compassionate and morally upright. His impulses are all good impulses, such as impulses to help people, impulses to apologize when someone is inconvenienced.

He's never really done anything malicious or harmful or selfish, and has never had to even learn impulse control, because he's never had an impulse to do anything bad.

Until he does. And when that happens, it's going to become a serious problem very quickly.

Still, that doesn't mean he has zero hesitancy, or no limitations to how far his impulses will go before, under certain circumstances, fear or ethics stops him. Rather, Mika has this back-and-forth, push-and-pull duality between impulse and hesitancy. Sometimes the hesitancy and nervousness has control over his actions for various durations of time before impulse takes over, and sometimes one or the other wins out. Oftentimes, he has almost amusing contradictory behaviors, where he has something he refuses to do and something he'll do without hesitation, where the two things seem to be at odds in severity — some minor offense he tenses and shakes his head at even the thought of committing, alongside some very serious offense he goes through with without a second thought.

In terms of how he initially interacts with you, though, you barely know Mika exists. And frankly, he prefers that.

You had one singular interaction. It didn't last more than a few seconds. A very short, simple, typical interaction — he was carrying a whole armful of various objects to drop them off in another room of the headquarters, dropped one. Turned back to grab it, but by the time he did, you were standing there, having picked it up, holding it out. Smiling.

Here, I got it.

You set it back in his arms, gave a quick no worries, it's fine! when he began to apologize, and turned around and walked off before he could say another word. It was no more than a few seconds. You've probably all but forgotten about it by the end of the day.

But he doesn't forget. You seemed very nice. Nice people give him some conflicting feelings — sure, it's pleasant, but people being nice to him also makes him very uncomfortable at times. Being subject to much attention, even positive attention, can be anxiety-inducing. People looking at him, people having expectations of him, having to try to successfully navigate a conversation without messing up and being awkward somehow, it can be exhausting, even.

Your niceness is no different. Pleasant and appreciated, but somehow discomforting at the same time, a nervousness over potentially doing something wrong. Did you hear the last "thank you" he said, or was he too talking too quietly? What if you didn't and now think he's ungrateful or rude? What if his hair or clothes were disheveled at the time and he didn't notice? There's so many possibilities by which something could be wrong, and it eats away at him.

From that day forward, he always notices you whenever you're nearby. The two of you never interact, you're in an entirely different field of work than him, but he does spot you once every few days or so, usually at a distance.

Don't expect anything more than a distance, though. Mika does pretty much all of his obsessing like that — a ways away from you, quietly observing. It starts as a mere fixation, he simply focuses on you when he happens to see you, but doesn't seek you out. Just watching, observing. He finds himself feeling oddly warm, this tight feeling in his chest. There was one time your eyes met and you smiled at him and he thought he might actually have felt his heart stop for a second.

He's self-aware, at least on this matter, doesn't need anyone to inform him that the flustered feeling and finding a person very pretty is quite obviously a matter of attraction. Just acknowledging that, though, fills him with a horrible feeling of embarrassment. He wouldn't stand a chance, he tells himself. You would never return the sentiment. He has no right to feel this way, and yet he does, and he can't make it stop. Soon he finds himself actually seeking you out in his spare time, finding spots to watch over you. The thought of trying to actually talk to you honestly doesn't even cross his mind. He's sure he'd panic and say something awkward, if not possibly even pass out. So that's definitely a no-go.

His mind does briefly consider the idea that he could try to distance himself and see if he stops thinking about it, which would alleviate him of all the nervousness... but this is where the impulse issue comes in. He considers it, maybe casually half-heartedly decides to do that, but even if any effort is put into trying to stay away, it's immediately broken by the compulsive urge to go find you.

I really should just go home...

So he thinks. But he doesn't. His feet don't even slow down or hesitate as he makes a direct line for where he's pretty sure you'll be at this time.

It progresses. It becomes more frequent that he seeks you out. One day, he watches you from across the room as everyone gathers to eat, they hand out paper cups with water to some people... and he watches you get up to throw yours away when you're done, stand up and leave and... once more, he seems to move without really consciously intending to do so. A few seconds and he's across the room, taking one quick glance over his shoulder to be sure no one is watching before grabbing it and pulling it back out.

This does strike him as odd, once he's walking back home with it in hand. That was definitely a very strange thing to do. He just thought about how it had your mouth on it, and his hands and feet seemed to develop a mind of their own... but now that he has it, there's no point in throwing it away, so he might as well keep it...

While he's self-aware of his feelings, it takes a little while before it registers with him how abnormal the extent of those feelings is. A few more of incidents like that one, where he notices that a certain actions was a little odd, before one day it hits him that he's done quite a few of those recently, actions and choices that seem strange and bizarre. Every single one of said occurrences pertains to you in some way. He makes the connection, he knows it's weird and possibly indicative of unhealthy attachment, but doesn't know what to really do with that information.

He tries to stop doing it. He really does. He tells himself it's weird and that he needs to stop doing those things, stop following you, stop constantly thinking of you.

He doesn't stop.

He did try, really. It just... didn't work. He told himself he wouldn't do anything further, but he just couldn't stop himself, couldn't repress the compulsion.

But it's not harming anyone, is it? So he rationalizes to himself, trying to make himself feel better after a long session of wallowing in shame. So while odd, it should all be okay, nothing bad will happen.

He's never had to deal with these types of feelings before. Never had to try to control himself from doing something that would harm someone, because normally, the very notion that an action would harm someone makes him feel averse to that course of action. He has very little to no experience in refraining or holding himself back from temptations.

It gets worse. Progressively becoming more and more intense and obsessive. He starts to feel other emotions, very negative ones, when watching you go about your day and interact with others. He's still self-aware enough to know that it's jealousy, and frankly he feels embarrassed for getting jealous over something so simple, it makes him feel like he's being immature and pathetic. And he knows he's crossed a line of acceptableness long ago, knows that it's obsessive, knows it's unhealthy. At first, he was able to lie to himself.

But he just can't make it stop.

Thus he begins to adopt what will become a defining trait of his, an interesting balance between lucidity and delusion. He can't outright admit to himself that his actions are ethically bad, because he'll feel too guilty, it would eat him alive. Yet, he initially doesn't want to face that guilt and admit the reality to himself in entirety, because that means the only solution is to stop and he doesn't want to have to stop.

He will try to delude himself, he just... usually sort of half-fails. He'll try to convince himself that his actions are solely altruistic, that what he's doing is selfless... but eventually he gives up, faces the truth he's been pushing to the back of his mind. Yet at the same time, he'll then try to balance it, a sort of moral bargaining. He'll admit to himself that his actions are selfish — but, it's doing good too. He's doing this because of his own urges, but it's not wrong to say that it is also for your own good, because he's watching over you and can protect you should something bad happen. Both can be true. Why think about it as an either-or matter? Taking this frame of mind significantly helps him cope with coming to terms with the selfishness of his actions. So on one hand, he's honest with himself, but he still throws in a few touches of delusional thinking to make himself feel better.

Mika also has a very bad habit of avoidance. With most situations, he's learned how to adapt to the normal world and can, if necessary, confront basic negative social situations, but he has this tendency to really avoid confrontations or social things that make him particularly uncomfortable, to a greater degree than most people. If he has a feeling someone is upset with him (but hasn't had it confirmed yet, or else he'd feel obligated to apologize and thus override the avoidance), he will go to great lengths to avoid confrontation from them. When he has to have a difficult talk with someone, he pushes it as close to the end of the day as possible, arguably making it worse due to dread.

And when he has some thought that makes him uncomfortable or guilty, he pushes it away. He can't push it out of his mind completely, but he tries as much as he can to simply avoid thinking about it.

Such is how his actions towards you become. At first he acknowledged it, and tried to fix it, but the more apparent it becomes that he can't stop himself, the more he adopts this mentality of avoidance. It's the only way he can cope with what would otherwise be a lot of self-directed frustration and guilt. He just avoids it.

He tries to not think about the fact that certain thoughts he has or certain things he does are unusual, or perhaps worse, would even be perceived as inappropriate. He's a people-pleaser by nature, tries hard to make sure no one is upset with him or dislikes him, and thus the thought of doing something that would be perceived that way makes his stomach churn — and thus, he only pushes the thought away even further, along with the alarming dread of the realization that said pushing is not a wise choice. He knows that, at least partially, this is him actively choosing a path that could have severe consequences, and that the thoughts he's dispelling are really his own sense of reason. But, of course, that thought gets cleared along with the others... not that this method can last forever.

He can just push any bad thoughts away, repeat lies to himself over and over until he starts to believe them in some sense, even if he knows they're not true deep deep down. While it certainly won't end well, for now, that's the only solution he has.

How likely are they to kidnap their darling? How quickly will they do so?

You'd actually be quite surprised at how quickly he'll resort to kidnapping. At first, he might seem like the type to never do so out of guilt or a strong desire for moral correctness, and while it's true that those sentiments are there and quite strong, that difficulty to retain his sense of inhibition comes back to bite him yet again. He's obviously not the sort of person who would do such a thing without shame or care, like some less ethically sound, more brazenly narcissistic, or more mentally unwell individuals might. No, the thought strikes him with a jolt of reprehension and guilt for even allowing that sort of thought, so he pushes it out of his mind.

It just sort of happens. The sort of thing one does where they're almost in a sort of trance or dissociative state, acting in an automated way to go through with something without much conscious intent. An absent-minded action here or there, perhaps with some actual intent to shift his mind into an auto-piloted state as he buys things, arranges things. As with everything else, even if he knows it's not true, he can tell himself little lies over and over, so that even though at this point he actively acknowledges what his desires are, he can present himself with other reasons for each step that soothe his unease... otherwise, if he didn't feed himself those ideas, he might not be able to bring himself to do it. He tells himself that that he went to another town to buy rope because he needed to take a long walk to clear his head, not so that the purchase would be less traceable. He makes up little what-if scenarios to rationalize why he's buying this or that, alternative uses for which it might hypothetically one day be useful. That he's moving to a new place of his own for Independence and all that, and not to have somewhere to store you.

See, that gives him the opportunity to back out. It stops him from having to acknowledge any determined commitment to the fantasies he's run through in his head, and thereby allows him to distance himself from any panic, guilt, or other negative emotion that would drown him if he were to resolutely and firmly commit to fulfilling said fantasy. He can allow himself some false sense of casual undecidedness, because if he acknowledges that there's really one sole reason he's getting these things together, it will eat him up internally.

Likewise, he never sets a specific date to do anything. That would be acknowledgement of intent, he can't have that. He just... gets the necessary things together, sets up all the arrangements with an absent mind, and waits.

There's no particular trigger, actually. Nothing that specifically sets him off or pushes him to make his move. Once more, it just happens. Without any real reason for that specific moment, he just finds his feet wandering, veering a different way than he initially intended to go. He's already memorized where you live and what your route to get there is, and has already absent-mindedly come up with three possible routes from your place to the one he's set up to be his from now on. He shuts down any conscious thought — who can say to what degree was that itself a conscious decision, if he really thought about it at all — and moves.

And such is how, within an hour or so, he finds himself standing to the side of his own bed, wide-eyed and perfectly still, staring down at your peacefully unconscious face, the rise and fall of your chest. It's not until then that it sort of comes crashing down on him all at once. Frankly, it's for the best that you're unconscious for the initial borderline panic attack and subsequent mental breakdown, because any interference from you might have made him worse. He breathes hard and fast, his body starts to shiver, his hands curl up so hard his knuckles go white, his eyes water up, he ends up stumbling over to the nearest trash bin and spends a half-hour too sick to move from the spot. Coming to terms with what has occurred — what he did — is enough to put him in a very bad state for quite some time.

But time passes, and while he's certainly not calmed down, the violently sick and tearful outbursts are soon over, and he finds himself merely sitting sprawled out on the floor, heavy breathing, face buried in his shaking hands as it all sinks in. There's a singular moment then and there where he takes a deep breath in and out, and forces himself to firmly acknowledge the reality of things... he knows he has to, at this point, because not doing so will make things fall apart, and then he's screwed if you get out. Now, he tells himself, he has to get up and move forward and live with his choices... and spend whatever time he has left before you wake up preparing and rehearsing exactly what he'll say to you. Yeah, that's a good start...

How difficult is it to escape from them? How do they keep you restrained? How do they deal with attempted escape?

He's very paranoid of the possibility for escape, so he goes all-out in terms of his measures. For starters, for a long while, he keeps you bound by one ankle to the bedpost — but it's leather, he went out of his way to make sure you'd be comfortable! Just to make sure you don't go wandering off. And, of course, adds a series of locks to the door from the outside.

The unfortunate thing for you is that he's also very precise and skillful in anything requiring mathematic-like abilities, and as such, the further measures he takes are very effective. It's not as simple as putting something heavy in front of the door, no, he goes out of his way to get down on the ground, measure the width and height of the door, the surface area it will move over when it opens, the distance to the nearest wall corner and the angle, and from there creates a simple mechanism out of basic materials that he can install and lock into place whenever he leaves, that touches the opposite wall and the door itself, making it impossible to open the door unless removed by someone on the same side as said mechanism.

And that's not all. He's got a snare trap he learned from hunting (loop made a bit bigger for a human foot, of course) set just beyond the door just in case, and every night when you go to bed, he always leaves the room for just a second to do something he refuses to tell you about when you ask, which is actually putting up some mechanisms above the doors so that if they open, it'll make a loud sound. Not that you really stand a chance of getting your ankle unbound and out of his arms anyway, but you know, just in case.

That's what most of his measures are, just precautions for all sorts of possibilities his brain comes up with, all the little things you could use or do. Which is why, in addition to setting up mechanisms to keep you in, he's also extremely careful about what you can get your hands on. He himself has had a lot of experience with situations where he had to get creative and use common everyday items to improvise for tools, so he's very familiar with the concept of makeshift items for purposes like lockpicking, heat conducting, even makeshift weaponry. Consequently, every time he considers giving you something or bringing you something, he runs the idea through his head to think of any possible means by which you may end up using it against him.

Ultimately, there are so many measures taken that even if you manage to get through one, the next will likely catch you, and any potential successful escape will undoubtedly require some trial and error lessons from previous attempts. Should he find you caught in one of said anti-escape traps, he frets over your condition, checking to see if it hurt you or something before rushing you back inside... but thereafter, he just gets quiet, sad, and pitiful-looking for a while. He waits for you to say something first, but if you don't, after a little while of silence he'll finally voice his feelings.

...I want you to be happy here, so... if there's something making you unhappy...

Or so he says, but your most likely complaints — that you want to leave, or want more freedoms or the like — will go in one ear and out the other, with him telling you he can't allow that (for your own well-being, of course!) and telling himself that there must be something else, some other way he can appease your desires without giving you what you actually want. The more he tells himself that, the more he can shove aside the gnawing pessimistic thoughts in the back of his head that you'll never get accustomed to him and never give in. That's not true, no. He'll find a way eventually.

How easy are they to trick, deceive, or manipulate?

If anything, you have trouble getting him to believe the truth. He's quite paranoid, and is always suspicious of everything, thinks everything is a potential lie.

Not that he's hostile about it. He's torn between his paranoia and not wanting to offend you by implying you're lying, so whenever you try to convince him of something, he works his way around giving you a direct statement in reply.

Well, I'll have to look into it myself...

I don't know about that...

Maybe we can pick back up on this conversation later, okay?

Trying (and not doing a very great job) to make it less obvious that he doesn't believe you, so you don't get upset. Although he makes it a bit too obvious considering that if it turns out you're right, he'll come back and apologize for not believing you, even though he was clearly trying to hide that fact beforehand.

He never acts on anything you say without going out of his way to check the validity of your statements. Sometimes this can get genuinely very annoying when he consumes unnecessary time doing so, especially because he also gets other bouts of paranoia and refuses to believe your reassurances. Like once when you made food for him (more out of boredom than anything), despite having done so dozens of times by now, this one particular time paranoia strikes and he pauses and asks if you did something to it.

No. Why, does it smell or taste weird?

No...

Then what's wrong with it? Why do you think that?

I just... I don't know...

There really is nothing wrong with it, he just has these intrusive worrisome thoughts and can't shake them. You keep reassuring him it's fine and he just refuses to believe you. He does this a lot with all sorts of things, randomly deciding that you're hiding something or have done something or are plotting something and reassuring him just won't work, he ends up taking all sorts of unnecessary measures to prevent whatever thing he thinks you're done or are doing that isn't actually happening.

How lenient are they? What privileges can you have, and what will you be denied?

Of course, he goes out of his way to do anything he thinks will win your favor or make you like him more, which usually includes using whatever money he has on him to buy as many things for you as he can. Anything related to something you like, some hobby that could occupy your time, or just generic, standard gifts like chocolate and flowers and clothes that he hopes will win at least some favor points.

Otherwise, he's actually not as lenient as you might expect due to sheer paranoia. Sure, he would like to grant your requests to go outside for walks or write to your family, he really would, and it makes him feel so awful and sick to deny you that, but he's just too worried. And as aforementioned, he's very careful about what you can get ahold of, surveys every items within your vicinity to ensure it can't be used for any harmful or unwanted purposes.

This means that your hobbies and requests are also often limited. You can do art, but only paint and wax utensils, no actual pens or pencils, too pointy and too much weapon potential. You can knit with very dull knitting needles, but no sewing or any needles with actual skin-breaking potential. And you can cook, just only while he watches, and no knives other than a butter knife. But... you can just let him do that, he'll gladly make food for you anyway (hope you like knight rations!), so there's no need for you to do so, so he says. Very obviously trying to deter you from a hobby he would prefer you not do out of fear you'll find a way to utilize what you have (what will you do? Boil water and throw it at him? Hit him with a metal pan?), but he allows it if it makes you happy.

What kind of rules do they have? What kind of punishment would they use?

They're more like requests, at least with how he says it.

Just stay in here and don't make any noise... please.

Um, please don't touch that... it's dangerous, I forgot to out it away, so... could you hand it over...?

Are you... ignoring me on purpose? I really wish you wouldn't do that...

But he realizes in a very short time that you do not fear or respect him in any capacity. Which he might have predicted, but it still hurts a bit. Logically, it makes sense, he knows he's perceived as a very meek person, and he knows that you have no real reason to see him as a force to be obeyed. He knows that in order to actually enforce behaviors, he needs to have you intimidated. He doesn't like the idea of making you afraid, but it may be necessary... unfortunately his attempts don't go over very well at first when you show defiance.

Oh yeah? Or what?

Or I'll, uh... I'll do something... bad....

Needless to say, you didn't seem particularly frightened.

Thus, when deciding how to address the issues of your behavior, he runs into a metaphorical wall, can't think of anything at all. Unlike taking you and bringing you here and following you and all those other behaviors, punishment actually does some harm and must be unpleasant for you, and he can't justify punishment to himself. He can't stand the thought of being cruel, or making you hate him, so for a while, he largely just lets you get away with violating the "rules" he sets...

...Until it occurs to him that he might be looking at it from the wrong perspective.

It ties back into his tendency to half-delude himself. Everything else he's done was for your own good, or at least he can rationalize it as such if he tries, even if he knows deep down that wasn't the primary motivation. It still helped you be together. And to keep you here, he has to take measures to ensure you don't leave, including reprimanding behaviors that aren't good for you and him. He wants to not have to do anything bad to you, but by doing so once or twice, you'll learn not to do the things you shouldn't, and he won't have to do anything bad. That's how parents and teachers and the like approach having to punish kids, right? Same idea. Thus, it's a temporary measure, if anything, it takes a lot of care for you to be willing to force himself to do it.

Still, he finds the thought of actually hurting you difficult. What he ends up coming up with is, essentially, deprivation. He read about something similar in a book once, that it was used as a psychological torture tactic at some point. Covering your eyes and ears, binding your hands and feet, and leaving you alone for hours on end. At first you're mad, he can tell you're jerking about and trying to rub the binds off. Then you go quiet, for some time. It's difficult for him to handle, he's constantly looking back at you to ensure you're alright.

It doesn't take as long as he expected. Within forty-eight hours or so, you reach a breaking point, you break down and start to shiver with whimpers and sobs. That's all it takes for him to bolt over to your side, pulling everything off as fast as he can and holding you close, apologizing over and over and assuring you that everything is fine. Look, he even had food ready because he was so concerned... so please don't be mad. It hurts him too.

How do they deal with rivals, or perceived rivals? Will they get rid of them? Will they kill them themselves, or find another way?

Much like with kidnapping, he's not unlikely to kill as you might think.

In the initial stages of stalking and following, he takes immediate notice of anyone you hang around a lot. Even from the very start, just seeing you speak to and interact with other people gives him an unpleasant pang of some very negative feeling in his chest, but the severity of it steadily increases each time he sees you interact with the same person.

After a very short time, he figures out who the people you're closest to are, and watches you with each day as you interact. He feels nauseous. There's a twisting, tight feeling in his stomach. A tightness in his chest. He recognizes it as an extension of irritation and resentment, and it doesn't take much though to recognize that, contextually, as jealousy. It makes him bounce back and forth between hurt and sadness and anger.

He feels bad for feeling that way, though. Jealousy is a bad thing, it's an immature and selfish emotion, so he's always believed. At least, that's how he used to view it when observing it in others, but it's an entirely different matter to experience it for oneself. Now he understands the ways he's seen people act in fits of jealousy, what he used to dismiss as unwell or hysterical individuals' behavior now seems so much more understandable.

Initially, he tries to just focus on watching you to ensure your safety and to ignore the feeling — predictably, based on already established tendencies, this does not go over well. The resentment he feels towards the other person swells with each passing day. So does the guilt that he feels for holding so much malice towards another person, but the guilt doesn't stop the malice itself. It just gets worse.

It's also frightening, in a way. He knows that he's developing these negative sentiments, knows it's not healthy, knows it can lead him to rash and potentially dangerous impulsive choices, and the thought that he might do something bad without forethought scares him. Being self-aware of it is almost worse than being purely deluded, because he's aware of decreasing stability, he's aware of the abnormality, he's aware that these sentiments could lead him to make choices that are awful and wrong and could have serious consequences, all the things that outright delusion would keep him blissfully unattuned to. This is especially true the worse it gets, when he starts to actually have brief images flashing through his head or intrusive thoughts come to his mind about how he could get rid of them, ways and means by which he could carry out such an act.

That fear has an upside, though, in that the sheer fear of consequence keeps him from acting upon the urges, at least for some time. See, with something like kidnapping, the evidence itself is gone as a part of the act itself. But murder? What would he do with the body? How would he dispose of it without being seen? Even as the strength of his guilt begins to wane, the uncertainty and fear restrains him enough to not do anything, to sit there and be forced to tolerate it, even if it makes him feel sick. If anything, continuous interaction with someone is just going to hasten getting abducted for you.

If he does end up killing, unfortunately, it's purely impulsive, and consequently not well-planned. It actually takes him a moment to even recognize what he's done — he stands there in a daze, looking back and forth at his hands and the body now slumped over or on the ground or at the bottom of a long fall or whatever method was taken, processing it as his mind catches up to his actions. It doesn't feel "real" at first, as if he can't accept it being the reality before him.

But when he does, he panics. A sort of panic he's never felt before in his entire life, even in the most perilous of situations. Thankfully, out of the two most common responses to this situation — run away or hide the crime — he takes the latter, opting to at least dispose of it before trying to forget about it. Like everything else he does, he'll certainly spend a very long time repeatedly rationalizing it to himself, telling himself it was his only choice or that they were dangerous to you and he was doing something good, so on and so on.

How easy is it to make them mad? What does their anger look like?

He's slow to truly anger, but he's not that slow to simply get upset. Perhaps the best word for how his emotions manifest would be frustration. Stressful things or rare cases of disagreements where he's very firm on his stance and can't simply bow his head and concede, overwhelm him very easily. He gets tense, fidgety, and depending on who he's interacting with, often intimidated. But if he gets frustrated enough, he starts to ball his hands into fists, arms tense and straight at his side while he tries to deescalate the situation, or, if he's really upset, stand his ground and make it clear he won't be dissuaded.

If you push him into a metaphorical corner and be as argumentative and hostile as possible, though, honestly, he's more likely to cry than anything. He just gets overwhelmed and frustrated and the emotions become too much for him to handle, and his eyes well up with tears and he bites his lip. He feels it coming on, though, and he's very adamant that you not see that, as he finds it embarrassing and thinks it would damage your image of him. Thus, he ends up just making a sharp turn around and walking off to another room, only to come back a while later. If you try to bring the subject up again, he just tenses up and tries to deflect from it, outright saying he doesn't want to talk about it anymore if you're persistent.

This can become something of an issue of avoidance, where he swerves his way around hard conversations and having to hear things he'd rather not. He continuously flees conversations he doesn't like, both out of not wanting to be seen getting emotional and also because it's his way of shutting you down and avoiding having to acknowledge some of the very valid points you have.

So they see you as above them, beneath them, or equal to them?

Saying that he sees you as "above" him doesn't really capture the exact sentiment that he has.

He does pedestalize you to some extent, which you might have expected, but actually, he's not really the type of person to be sensitive to or even put much thought into the "worth" or "value" of a person, for very logical reasons: there's no set factors or qualities that determine worth and value, it's all subjective, and therefore can't truly be defined. And if it can't be defined, it can't be quantified. It can change based on perspective and mood. What's the point of thinking of people and oneself based on a system so vague and unsteady?

Ultimately, it's not so much a matter of worth or pedestalization, rather, what he gets obsessive and neurotic over is need.

The power dynamic subtly woven into all interpersonal relationships. One always needs the other more. One always cares more. In the social network, that is what matters above all else, whoever "wins" and "loses" in that sort of mind game. And he's painfully aware that he's the loser here, that he needs you more than you do him. He cares more, he wants you more. Acknowledging it hurts, but he can't lie to himself on this matter. At the same time, his mind goes blank when he tries to think of how to resolve the problem. There's really nothing he can do. He just has to hope that keeping you here makes up for what would otherwise be a vulnerability of his.

How determined are they for you to love them? How hard will they try to make it happen? Or are they content just having you?

He's incredibly determined, he just doesn't really know how to go about it. Mika has a very analytic, pragmatic brain, one that works well with concepts such as sentential logic, numerical functions and mathematics, and of course, cartography. Concepts with processes set in stone, laid out with a very clear way to arrive at a very specific solution or result. Things that are formulaic and linear.

Relationships between people are not like that. There is no perfect course of action guaranteed to produce the desired result. Everything is uncertain and uneasy, and that makes it such a nerve-wracking thing to deal with. At least he can try. There's not much more he can do, as much as he wishes there was some way to guarantee it.

Perhaps somewhat to his own detriment, in his perpetual attempts to alleviate his negative emotions and worry, when thinking of how to win you over, he sort of completely neglects to take the situation into account. That is, he completes dodges acknowledging the circumstances by which you're even here to begin with, approaches it as if you're in a normal situation and thus that normal things like gifts and kind words should work, avoiding any and all acknowledgement of the fact that having brought you here against your will is kind of an important part of it all, and one that has undoubtedly given you a very negative sentiment towards him. He feels sick even just letting his mind vaguely drift to thinking about what you must feel towards him, given his actions. No, he prefers to not think about that, and choose optimism instead, choose to believe his efforts will work eventually and there's definitely not some huge and possibly impossible obstacle to overcome. Lying to himself just feels better, you know?

Bonus: Is there anything that makes them unique, in comparison to other yanderes?

Firstly, his bargaining system. He develops this in his head, a two-part self-comfort mechanism where firstly, he goes back-and-forth rationalizing everything he does with some aspect making it less bad in his mind, and secondly, tries to pair every bad action with a good one. Since he has a strong sense of ethics and guilt, he can't just carelessly do what he does, nor begrudgingly accept himself the way others might. Thus, he spends a lot of time in deep thought, internally struggling with himself and dealing with his feelings. He will quite literally go down the list of everything he has done that he feels bad about, and think of a way it can be spun as something positive.

He bargains when thinking about potential actions as well, rationalizing, just spends so much time thinking about these things. He was always prone to overthinking, but now takes it to an extreme as he spends excessive amounts of time running over things in his head. That this action isn't that bad for this and that reason, this is acceptable because of these circumstances, so on and so on. He spends far more time obsessively going through these sorts of thoughts than others in his situation.

And then, he will literally tally the major offenses, and for each one, he does something good for you. Buys you something, does something for your sake, tries to perform some gesture to make you happy. He deals with his perceived sins on a one-to-one ratio, as if by doing a good thing, he somehow cancels out the bad things, or compensates for them, or something like that. He doesn't really fully understand the exact intent, but he knows that doing this makes him feel better.

There's also another unique factor: the initial impression he makes, the way you and pretty much anyone perceives him at first, begins to unravel over time. You begin to understand his true nature for what it is, even to a degree he himself has never done enough introspection to really understand. You gradually begin to realize that, even though it's subconscious for him, he's far more clever, deliberate, and even selfish than it would seem on the surface.

His tendencies for apologizing can get on your nerves very, very quickly, but you still pity him. At first, you don't think much of it other than him being burdened by guilt, you thought of him as someone with a very bad case of some deep psychological problem, someone who was a very good person deep down, but tormented by some uncontrollable condition or something. You feel bad for him, try to reason with him, thinking that his internal goodness, if invoked, will lead him to do the right thing.

But... perhaps it's because you hear his apologies so much that the words start to lose meaning, sorry becomes a jumbled set of sounds with no significance. And as your initial belief in the sincerity of his remorse wanes, the way you perceive him and his actions starts to shift as well. You have a lot of time to ponder things, and you start to feel like you're beginning to understand a darker element to his psychology that even he might not be fully aware of.

The constant apologies and meekness starts to seem to align with his intentions. That the apologetic sentiments aren't separate from or antithetical to his ultimate desires and goals, but rather, an active means by which he obtains those goals.

You notice little things you didn't before.

That even though he apologizes when doing something he thinks will invoke your anger, he doesn't seem shaky or hesitant. The words come out of his mouth, but his hands nonetheless move with straightforward, unhesitating intent. The illusion of this poor pitiful thing that just wants to love you seems to fade as you notice more, think about it more.

And one day, as he apologizes once more, in a moment of frustration, you narrow your eyes and snap at him.

No you're not. You just say you are to make yourself feel better.

Your words certainly have an effect. He stiffens, shakes his head, immediately begins to insist that's not true, that he really is sorry and that he really doesn't want to hurt you. He insists over and over. And the thought sticks with him, since he keeps trying to reassure you for days on end.

He seems so pitiful as he does that. Admittedly, even though you try not to, he's so very good at making you feel bad for him. You're the one kidnapped and held prisoner by this guy, yet somehow he manages to make you pity him so often. But that too starts to register differently the more you think about it.

Whether it's a conscious or subconscious behavior — likely the latter — that is the intent. He wants you to feel bad for him, and whether or not he realizes it — in fact, you're pretty sure he doesn't realize it, that it's just his nature and not a behavior he does consciously — deep down he's intentionally behaving as pitifully as he can. After all, if he's so meek and desperate to please that you can't help but feel bad for him, then you can't bring yourself to hate him, to be angry.

That, too, you finally one day bring up, on a day where you're in a particularly rough state of mind, having been drained of the fight you had left in you, melancholic and distant and tired. You're laying down, staring up at the ceiling while he's going on about some disagreement you've had, when he says it again, that he's sorry. You exhale a deep breath.

You turn your head towards him, too spiritually exhausted to summon any real anger, voice coming out flat and cold.

No. You want me to feel sorry for you so that you can do whatever you want, and I'll pity you too much to do anything about it.

Unlike your prior accusation of using it for self-soothing, this time, he doesn't immediately rush to defend himself. He just... freezes. He gets quiet. But his eyes are blown wide open, he stands there slack-jawed and still as several seconds pass by. As if your words aren't striking him as a jab at something he was aware of, but an expression of genuine shock, perhaps even realization.

It's quiet for a minute before he finally snaps out of the momentary stupor, shaking his head.

No, no, I just... I'm not...

And then he goes quiet again, looking down at the ground for a moment before taking a step back.

I need to... take a walk.

It's a quiet, uneasy voice you've never heard him use. He turns around and bolts out the door without a second of hesitation, lacking the usual five or so goodbyes he usually gives whenever he leaves. You're pretty sure you struck something he really doesn't want to think about... but in the end, given how he's such a slave to his urges, you doubt it will have much of an effect.

General perverseness: how sexual of a person are they? What’s their drive like? How touchy do they get? Do they have any reservations about sexuality?

He's very easily flustered and embarrassed even with topics of a normal and socially appropriate nature, so it only gets that much worse when it comes to anything that even most people would be embarrassed by. He blushes very easily, and it's very easily visible, which, along with general embarrassment, means he's developed a habit of covering his face with his hands whenever he feels embarrassment.

You'll have a somewhat difficult time even getting him to talk about anything of a sexual nature. If it's a joke or innuendo he'll awkwardly laugh it off, but if you actually try to have a serious conversation about it in some way, he goes red in the face, stammers and sputters and tries to give a one-word answer and switch to another topic.

Not that he doesn't have a sex drive or impure thoughts — he very much has both of those things, but as with his other behaviors, he's caught in between hesitancy and impulse, and for some time at least, his hesitancy and sense of moral wrong will keep him in check before that control breaks.

He hesitates for quite some time to touch you, even. He doesn't really keep a huge distance though, interestingly enough. As nervous as he is (and noting that he usually keeps physical space between himself and others), once he has you to himself, his self-control is just on the threshold of touch, where he can't stop himself from being in close proximity (even if it does make his heart race), but he's still too nervous to just reach an arm out and let your skin brush against his, to actually do something. So he stays close, provided you're actually being somewhat nice and non-hostile. It takes him a pretty long while to work up the nerve to actually touch, and if you're too cold and hostile towards him, it will delay it even further.

Once he has, though, he becomes very fond of touch. He likes to just wrap his arms around you and hold you close, can lay silently like that for quite some time. The more fond of it he becomes, though, the more sensitive to rejection of touch he gets, so after a while, if you keep swatting away his hands or jerking away from his touch, it will make him considerably more hurt than it did in the beginning.

How forceful are they? Do they care about your willingness?

Initially, he would be too nervous to really perform even if you were begging him for it, so even consensually that's not going to happen for a while. It takes time to get used to your presence right there, to come to terms with the fact that you're really here and he has you all to himself and it's not even a dream. That what was once so far away, always watched at a distance, is now right in front of him. He needs a while just to really process that and all the emotions that come with that realization.

Beyond that stage, though, as with his general behaviors, it's another issue of impulse.

Granted, he does manage to fight that one off for a long time, and will never bring himself to outright violate you, so it could be argued that he does, in fact, manage to summon some self-control on this one thing. It helps that he has a very "pure" view of you (regardless of your actual level of experience), and feels like he'd "defile" you by doing anything to you. He can ward off "bad" thoughts by instilling a reflexive sense of guilt the moment they emerge.

More importantly, he staves off any such thoughts the moment he considers what it would mean in regards to his own perception of himself. His set of values is borderline self-contradicting and somewhat amusing, where he somehow manages to rationalize everything else he's done, and doesn't see himself as a horrible person for the whole kidnapping and imprisonment thing, yet sexual violation is where he draws the line. He's not a terrible person or anything, but someone who does that definitely would be! He's repulsed by the concept of such individuals, so he could never bring himself to become one. He has a bit of a lack of self-awareness, wherein he believes that there's a world of difference between the two things, that his actions are just each a mild misdeed for complicated reasons, not a heinous crime like that would be.

Eventually, though, like everything else, it starts to slip. He starts bargaining with himself, running loops of logic to absolve himself of fault and diminish the perceived severity of a potential action. First he permits himself to have thoughts — it's just thoughts, it can't hurt you, you won't even know about it, so what's the harm done? By allowing himself to run through fantasies in his head, he'll get the urges out and lower the risk of making a rash choice of action, so it's actually a good thing.

It's only a matter of time before "thoughts" becomes actions. Sneaking a few glances as you shower or undress, letting his hands brush against you just enough to seem accidental, jerking off over you while you sleep, and eventually, it progresses to maybe giving you some medication to make you sleep a bit heavily, so you won't wake when he runs his hands over your body.

But it increasingly begins to feel like it's not enough. He hangs on this fine line balance where his sense of ethics and self creates a strong hesitation and wariness, like an automatic safety-trigger stop function on a piece of machinery, telling himself he can't do such a thing, while at the same time, the urge is so strong that once his inhibition is worn down, it comes out all at once like a broken dam.

But he still loves you, he still wants to respect you, he hates hates hates the thought of hurting you, so he uses whatever inhibition is left to refrain from actually doing something, and instead tells you. Asks you for help, even. Very openly and honestly.

I don't want to do something bad to you. But I can't... I feel like I'm going insane or something...

It's entirely truthful, but acting like it's just for your sake isn't entirely honest. Maybe, just maybe, it's partially with intention. Hoping you feel bad, hoping you take his request for help not in a way to help him stop, but to help him rid himself of the frustration and need. Maybe. And if you do, then it will all be okay. He's sure to emphasize that, if so.

What sort of kinks or fetishes do they have, or would they fill?

Voyeurism/Somnophilia

These are included together because they serve the same general purpose: allowing him to alleviate his needs without feeling like he's actually committing some act of violation.

It can't hurt to look. Especially when you don't see him. Watching you change, watching you stretch, his eyes run up and down your body as his own begins to feel warm and fuzzy. He used to just glance and be done with it, but finds his eyes lingering longer and longer.

There's also the time he got home a bit early, came in through the back quietly enough that you didn't hear, just to be greeted by the sight of you panting and arching, hand between your legs, arm draped over your eyes, perfectly uncovered. It caught him so off-guard and put him in such a stunned state that he ended up standing there, mouth agape for several seconds processing it, only to quietly sneak back just enough to be able to duck out of sight if necessary, and to be able to hide his own lower half, working himself to watching you do the same. Thankfully you didn't notice him, and he was able to play it off as coming through the door just right after you were done. You probably thought it was perfect timing. And it was... just not for you.

Eventually, as his urges grow stronger, he takes to touching you in your sleep. In a way, it's actually quite nice because it's a calming and reassuring way to interact with your body, no worrying about it being too obvious that he has no idea what he's doing. No embarrassment over blatantly staring, even if it's harder to see in the dark. And even despite your sleep, he still gets an exhilarating rush every time you respond to the touches, when you twitch and make the softest sounds.

Mutual masturbation/instruction

It sort of ties into the former, but with you consciously aware of it. He couldn't exactly say why he has voyeuristic tendencies, but even when you're actively aware of his presence, watching can be just as pleasurable as actively participating. He likes touching you too, so he usually combines the two, so it's not purely voyeuristic per se, but combines the element nonetheless. Basically this means he wants to watch you touch yourself in some way, preferably while he does in another — have his fingers buried inside you while you play with your chest, or the inverse, letting him suck on your nipples while you rub at yourself.

But even if he's not actively doing something, he just really, really likes seeing you masturbate. It takes a while for that inclination to be exposed, because he's very shy about it, but eventually, especially if you're fully receptive and accepting of him, he'll muster up the courage to outright ask for it.

Just... I just want to watch...

Well, of course, he jerks himself off the whole time, but he is watching. It seems like it would be easy to you at first, but it actually turns out that the act is very vulnerable and embarrassing in practice, more so than just sex itself. There's something far more vulnerable about being laid exposed and actively being watched with such intense focus, very different from two active participants.

After a while, he gets confident enough to venture into another desire: he starts telling you what to do, gives instructions. Leans down and murmurs into your ear to touch yourself a certain way or in a certain spot, to arch your back, roll your hips forward against his hand. The only downside is it's very hard for him to not cum before you do.

How do they feel about pregnancy or babies? Do they want them?

Funnily enough, it's not that he goes out of his way to achieve this, nor has an "accident" by avoiding proper precautions, nor does he adamantly avoid it. Instead, he just sort of forgets. The possibility doesn't cross his mind, he's too absorbed in feelings of euphoria and excitement and so many intense emotions that his brain sort of skips over the whole, you know, purpose the physical process even exists for on a biological level.

Thus it's more or less inevitable. As you can imagine, his first reaction is intense worry. And to be fair, that's a very normal reaction for the majority of people, not just those prone to worry like he is. It's a pretty big deal, after all. He has far more things to worry about than the average guy in his situation, though. How is this going to work? Are you going to try to use the kid to get away from him? Turn them against him? It bothers him so much it starts to make him feel sick, he loses sleep, he's so distant and spacey that people ask if something is wrong with him. He doesn't really have a plan to counteract any of his fears, so... he just has to go forward and hope for the best. It becomes a constant source of anxiety for him.

On the bright side, he'd be a top-tier father, both with how invested he is in the child's life as well as how good he is at the actual practical aspect of caring for and supervising a kid. He's constantly trying to help with any little thing that he can, always wanting to take burdens off of you. He's particularly invested in the child's education, starts eagerly trying to teach them how to read and write and the like from a young age. The only downside is that he's very paranoid and constantly worried, making up these worst-case scenarios in his head, to the point that you have to reassure him that certain things are normal and not an issue, or that it's okay that the kid has not made a sound in the last 20 seconds, that not every single cough or sneeze means something is horribly wrong, so on and so on.

What kind of (nsfw) punishments would they use?

If he gets desperate enough, if you're being repetitively disagreeable and hostile to him, the only thing he can think of is to make you need him. This goes hand-in-hand with his usual means of sensory and contact deprivation, but this time, he does it with orgasms. You'll get frustrated eventually, right? Even if you're not someone who has a particularly high drive, you'll inevitably become needy. At least, it's the best thing he can think of.

He's still apologetic and all, the whole time he forces your arms and legs apart, tying each ankle and wrist to a different bed corner. It never ceases to be borderline humorous, were you an onlooker and not the victim, how he will just apologize and apologize yet not waver in his actions for a single second...

This situation has the added perk of the fact that he gets to sit you upright and feed you, give you water. It's very sweet and intimate... at least, he thinks so, although you don't seem particularly happy about it. He still makes sure to leave you with little to occupy your time with, hoping that it will add to the desperation. You don't initially understand what he's after, but it becomes more evident when, after a day or so, he decides it's necessary to take some additional steps to expedite the process. Works his way between your legs and gets you wound up and frustrated with his fingers and tongue, pulling you so, so close, only to pull back at the last second, murmur something about how it's for your own good, and give you a kiss to your forehead before abruptly getting up and going off again. You quickly become irritated, kicking your feet against the restraints and snapping at him, saying a few mean words before relaxing your body with a huff.

With any luck, you'll hopefully have a very short tolerance for this torment... that's his hope, at least. He really wants you to just give in and love him and let him help you, and preferably be nice to him, that's all. And really, it's in your best interest to do so too, lest he start to slowly awaken to a realization that a part of him rather likes you tied and struggling like that... frankly, that's a metaphorical slumbering beast you do not want to wake.

What body parts of their darling do they like the most?

Your thighs and legs. No particularly specific reason that he's aware of, just the natural and innate sexual attraction to the other's sensual characteristics. He likes the softness and the warmth of your skin, the way your legs feel wrapped around his waist, the shape and curvature of your hips to your thighs and the back of your calves, the way running his eyes up and down your figure makes him feel all hot and tense and excited. Most of all, he especially likes laying his head on your lap, listening to you talk about anything and everything.

You can also use this to your advantage — come up to him when he's sitting down, sit beside him and swing your legs to rest over his lap and his brain will undergo a shutdown right there on the spot. It's rather cute.

#yandere genshin impact

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captainremmington-13 · 2 months

Text

A Lady Made of Snow

DISCLAIMER: I don’t own The Hunger Games franchise, the images above, The Ballad of Songbirds and Snakes, or any of the characters in this fic other than Bellova.

SUMMARY: The 10th Annual Hunger Games begin, and things quickly dissolve into chaos. Bellova grows increasingly furious about Coriolanus’s dedication towards Lucy Gray Baird. When she realizes he has cheated just to keep her alive, she decides to ruin him once and for all.

Warnings: spoilers for TBOSAS, death, violence, cursing, overall dark stuff (it’s the Hunger Games franchise so that’s sorta a given)

A/n: I am using a combination of the movie and book version of the events that occur in this chapter. I sort of streamlined the events to make the chapter less boring. Also, I highly recommend listening to “…Ready For It?” and “Look What You Made Me Do” while reading this chapter.

Other than Sejanus throwing a chair at the screen and screaming that everyone in the room was a monster, Lamina killing Marcus in an act of of mercy, and Lucky’s stupid commentary, nothing much had happened yet.

Bellova was disappointed that her tribute was dead. Not because she cared about her, but because it meant she was missing out on the mentor experience. The thrill of having a say in someone else’s survival seemed quite exciting.

If she wasn’t so pissed at Coriolanus for his behavior towards Lucy Gray, she would’ve reconsidered his proposal to work together.

When the day was coming to an end, the majority of Academy students started to leave for their homes. Only a handful remained, consisting mostly of the mentors.

Bellova stifled a yawn, leaning back in her chair. Things has gotten dull, with the tributes doing nothing but finding places to hide from each other. She hoped that Dr. Gaul had something exciting in store for them soon, or people would start switching to Billi Bumble’s horrible comedy channel.

She picked up her Academy satchel and stood up from her seat. She noticed that Coriolanus was still present and slumped over on his desk, his head resting on his hand. He looked so peaceful asleep, his long golden lashes fluttering slightly. The light from the ceiling made his light blonde curls glow ethereally.

He looked like an angel.

Bellova suddenly felt a strong urge to wake him up. She had avoided him for the entire day out of spite, but was starting to miss interacting to him. It was routine, bantering and bickering every day. Not talking felt…weird. And lonely.

She sighed. On rare occasions, she wished she could go back in time and change the way they formed their relationship. Instead of it being based on competition and rivalry, it would be full of support and affection.

Then, an unpleasant thought hit her.

He had only stayed so late to ensure nothing happened to Lucy Gray while he was away.

Now utterly furious, she slung her bag over her shoulder and started towards the door. ‘He’s such a pathetic sap,’ she thought. ‘He’s acting like a fool, I really should stop associating myself with him.’

But she found herself glancing over her shoulder to look at him one last time. And she knew, deep down, that she’s always come back, no matter how much he pissed her off.

She’d never be able to stay away from him.

Not for long, anyway.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Bellova passed out as soon as she climbed into bed, and didn’t wake until nine hours later. She hadn’t slept well in nearly a week, as she was still recovering from her injuries. This was the first time she was able to achieve an uninterrupted night of sleep since before the bombing.

When one of her maids woke her up, it was already 8:00. Usually Academy classes started promptly at 8:00, but because of the Games, the schedule had been loosened a bit. And Bellova, who didn’t feel like interacting with anyone, was in no rush to arrive on time.

After eating a breakfast of fruit and assorted pastries, she slowly pulled on her uniform. She has always hated the Academy uniforms, but with the right accessories and makeup, she had learned to make it presentable by her standards.

Bellova checked her makeup one last time in the mirror and then headed downstairs to meet her driver at the front of her estate. He opened the passenger’s side door for her as she slid into the seat.

“How are you this morning, Miss Bellova?” he asked, starting the engine and taking off towards the main road.

“Fine,” she said, leaning against the window. “I’m just tired, that’s all.”

“I’m sorry to hear that. I hope that once the Games are over, you can rest up properly.”

She nodded. “That would be nice. As much as I like the Games, they’ve caused quite a lot of stress this year.”

He laughed quietly. “Most certainly. Everyone was so worried about you when you were hospitalized, your father most of all. I haven’t ever seen him so upset in my twenty years of working for him.”

Bellova sighed. She and her father, Julio Augustus Reginelle, had a nice relationship. But he was rarely home, for he worked almost ten hours a day and often didn’t come home until Bellova was asleep. She cherished the rare moments she had with him. He had taught her to be proud of her wit and her combative nature, even if it sometimes got her into trouble.

“You are much more like your father than you realize, Miss Bellova,” her driver said.

“How so?” she asked.

“You are both kind until someone disrespects you. You are incredibly intelligent just like him, and pursue your goals relentlessly.” He paused for a moment. “And, you seem to have the same disdain for certain other Capitol families.”

Bellova raised an eyebrow. “Which ones?”

“Well, he’s not fond of the Cardews, as you know. He thinks they hold too much power for how little work they actually do.”

Bellova laughed. “That’s true.”

“He has never gotten along with the Creed family. He finds them irritating and foolish.”

She smirked. “I’m not surprised. Festus can be insufferable. Who else?”

Her driver sighed. “He despised Crassus Snow.”

Bellova felt her stomach twist. “Really?”

He nodded. “I don’t know exactly why he hated him so passionately, but I’ve heard they were rivals during their Academy days.”

‘I suppose I really do take after him then,’ Bellova thought, remembering her and Coriolanus’s worst arguments. ‘Crassus’s son gets under my skin nearly every day.’

Her driver pulled onto Scholars Road and stopped in front of the Academy’s main building. He stepped out of the car to open the door for her, and she gave him a nod of thanks.

“I’ll see you later, Miss Bellova,” he said, bowing slightly and getting back into the car to drive off.

As Bellova walked to the auditorium where the mentors were undoubtedly already at work, she pondered what her driver had said about Crassus Snow and her father. She was eager to know more about their history, but didn’t want to pry too far. Her father had a temper just like her, and she didn’t want to be on the wrong end of it.

When Bellova reached the room and walked through the doors, she immediately noticed three things: one, that Coriolanus looked exhausted and distressed, two, that he has brought his cousin Tigris to watch the Games, and three, that Sejanus was missing.

She grabbed a spare chair and sat next to Coriolanus. He didn’t greet her or even glance look at her.

“What’s wrong with you today?” she asked, looking at the large television screen in front of them.

He scowled. “I’m not in the mood for your snide remarks, Bellova.”

“Clearly something happened. Either tell me or I’ll figure it out on my own.”

Coriolanus gave her a sharp glare, but sighed in defeat. “We’ll talk about it later.”

Satisfied, Bellova turned her attention back to the Games. According to Lucky Flickerman, one tribute, Bobbin, had died overnight. However, there was no footage shown of him perishing.

Bellova found that awfully suspicious. There was such a lack of action in the arena that the gamemakers would have undoubtedly shown the death of a tribute.

When Bobbin’s death was announced, she noticed Coriolanus tense ever-so slightly. The average person wouldn’t have noticed, but she had learned to read his body language as well as the back of her hand. Clearly, something about his death made him nervous.

She decided to cast it aside for the moment. She’d pry the information out of him later.

“They aren’t showing us what happened to that little boy,” Lysistrata Vickers said. “He clearly was killed right there. There’s cameras everywhere. It doesn’t make sense.”

“They said they were old cameras, Lyssie,” Festus responded. “Probably just another one of Coral’s.”

“Festus, sit down,” Lucky Flickerman ordered. “Same seats.”

Festus scowled but did as he was told. He and Lucky clearly had some animosity, and it was quite amusing to witness their petty interactions.

Suddenly, after a few moments, Lucy Gray appears on screen, looking horrified. Bellova had to bite her lip to refrain from grinning. It seemed that the songbird’s luck was finally running out.

Jessup emerged a second later. He was clearly not well, he looked much worse than he did before the Games.

“What’d you do to me?” Jessup shrieked, backed Lucy Gray against a pile of rubble.

“Nothing!” she responded, her eyes wide with fear.

“Lyssie, what is he doing?” Bellova heard Coriolanus asked frantically.

“Something’s wrong,” Lysistrata replied, bewildered. “He wouldn’t turn on her like this.”

“Jessup going after Lucy Gray,” Lucky commented.

“Stop running!” Jessup demanded. “What did you…” He groaned mid-sentence. “What did you do to me?”

“I didn’t do anything!” Lucy Gray insisted.

“Both tributes from District 12. The same district folding in on itself.”

“Wait, look. The foam,” Coriolanus said.

“I think it’s rabies,” Lysistrata said, clearly disturbed. “That bite. From that train.”

Coriolanus stared at the screen, looking helplessly at his tribute who was nearing her inevitable doom. Then, he turned back to Jessup’s mentor.

“Send him water.”

“Wait, what?” Lysistrata asked.

“You remember the posters in the war? Rabies. It makes you afraid of water. Send him a drone.”

“That’ll scare him,” she protested.

“Yes. Away from her,” he insisted.

Bellova stood up. “Coriolanus-“

“Bellova, be quiet,” he snapped, not even bothering to look at her. “Jessup is done. Lyssie, you’re the only one that can get it right to him.”

Lysistrata clearly didn’t want to, but with a few clicks on her computer, water was being sent to Jessup by a drone.

“Thank you,” Coriolanus whispered.

Within minutes, Jessup was dead, and four lethal tributes were cornering Lucy Gray.

“Oh, look at this,” Lucky Flickerman said. “The Pack doing what they do best. Packing it in. Lucy Gray is swarmed, cornered. Mizzen, propellering his net.”

It looked again as if she was done for, but then-

“Mr. Snow going for his communipad,” Lucky continued. Bellova saw him send nine - no, ten drones towards Lucy Gray.

Bellova knew exactly what he was doing. He was using the drones to give her a chance to escape.

The drones came flying into the arena, causing The Pack to scatter. A few of them got hit, causing them cry out in pain and tumble to the stone-covered floor.

“These drones are not very good,” Lucky commented, as if it weren’t obvious. Some of the students who had caught onto Coriolanus’s plan started to jeer at him.

“Hey!” Vipsania Sickle said indignantly. “You can’t attack the tributes.”

“I’m just sending water,” Coriolanus said casually, as if he was completely innocent.

After gathering her bearings, Lucy Gray scrambled into a tunnel with Coral on her heels. She managed to pull the vent closed just in time, the metal door nearly crushing Coral’s fingers.

Bellova positioned herself a few inches away from Coriolanus. She was seething, but it didn’t show on her face. She simply looked indifferent, despite all of the violence that had just occurred in the Games.

“Snow, do you that time before the Dark Days when you pulled on my pigtails, so I slammed your face against my school desk?”

“Yes,” Coriolanus said, furrowing his eyebrows. “What about it?”

Bellova smiled crookedly, the violent glint in her eyes making Coriolanus visibly uncomfortable. “I’m about to fucking do it again, and this time, you’ll have more than a bleeding nose.”

He straightened his posture, smoothing out his Academy blazer.

“I’d like to see you try.”

Bellova’s hands twitched. She knew that decking him in front of the majority of the student board would get her in severe trouble, but it was very tempting.

Instead of punching him, she started to storm out of the auditorium.

“There goes Miss Reginelle. Clearly, the violence on screen has finally gotten to her-“

“Shut the fuck up, Flickerman, before I snap your microphone in half!” Bellova hissed. She threw up open the doors, and made sure to slam them behind her.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Bellova sat in the hallway outside of the auditorium, leaning her head against the wall behind her. Her anger was threatening to spill over, and her father would be very disappointed in her if she murdered someone on Academy grounds.

She had vowed to make Coriolanus pay if he pulled any more strings for his little songbird. And he had by sending that fleet of drones after her attackers. But clearly, nobody batted an eye at that. He had not been punished, or even reprimanded.

The thought of Coriolanus thinking longingly about Lucy Gray was almost enough to drive her mad.

Before she could do anything drastic, she heard the speakers inside the auditorium amplifying Dr. Gaul’s voice. Curious, she stood up and pressed her ear to the doors.

“Capitol citizens, I’m afraid I must interrupt our Games to announce a tragic loss, one that affects us all. Felix Ravinstill, son of our beloved president, has, this morning, succumbed to his injuries sustained in the rebel bombing.”

Bellova felt her heart drop. Felix wasn’t all that bad, when he wasn’t bragging about his life at least. She had even gone to the end-of-year Academy gala with him a couple of years ago. They had a wonderful time, and she was gifted a priceless gold necklace by him at the end of the night. She had worn it for a week straight afterwards, which delighted the young son of the president.

“Out there in the districts, they will be celebrating this young boy’s death as a triumph. I will not allow my Games to give our enemy such a victory. I swear to you, here and now, before the sun goes down tonight, a rainbow of destruction will engulf our arena. Even if it means there’s to be no victor in these Games.”

She gasped. She knew Dr. Gaul well enough to know she was completely serious. If she wanted someone gone, she’d stop at nothing until they dropped dead.

Mere moments later, Coriolanus burst through the doors, nearly slamming right into Bellova.

“What are you doing out here?” she asked, scowling at him.

He sneered down at her, beginning to walk away. She followed him, despite knowing he really didn’t want her to. “As if I’d tell you.”

Bellova sighed. “I told you earlier, Coriolanus, if you don’t tell me, I’ll figure it out on my own-“

“Fine!” he huffed. “I’d do anything to shut you up at this point. You’re insufferable.”

“The feeling is mutual, Snow. Now spill it, what’s going on?”

Coriolanus, against his better judgement, told her everything. Well, almost everything. He told her about how he retrieved Sejanus from the arena, but omitted the part about killing Bobbin. He explained that he needed to see Dr. Gaul immediately, for the stitches in his back from the previous evening were coming loose.

Bellova frowned. She briefly felt bad that he was in pain, but couldn’t bring herself to actually care. She was still angry at him.

She also noticed he said was being very vague with his details. He was definitely hiding something.

“What’s that face for?” Coriolanus asked as they approached the Citadel, which housed Gaul’s laboratory.

“What face?”

“That scowl. You’re clearly not pleased about something, so what is it?”

She smirked. “As if I’d tell you,” she said, mimicking his words from earlier.

Coriolanus’s jaw clenched, which satisfied Bellova immensely. She loved seeing his patience waver, it was strangely addicting.

“Will you ever learn to keep your bratty mouth shut?” he asked, his voice raising a touch.

“Bratty?” Bellova scoffed. “I’d prefer it if you called me a bitch.”

Dr. Gaul’s lab was just a few corridors away at this point. Bellova knew that causing a scene here wouldn’t be wise, but she honestly did not care. She could easily talk her way out if it.

Coriolanus glowered at her, his blue eyes icier than ever. “Go back to the auditorium, Bellova. I know you love watching the Games, and you’re probably missing all of the action.”

She laughed. “So all of a sudden, you want me to be happy. Seriously, Snow, if you want to get rid of me, just say so.”

He smirked at her condescendingly. “Then I will. Get out of here, you have no place in Gaul’s lab anyway. It’s too much for your pathetically shallow brain to comprehend.”

Bellova stared at him for a moment. It has been awhile since he’d said something quite that harsh. It was normal for him to question her intellect, but calling her dumb? That was low, even for him.

Coriolanus was obviously anticipating a slap to the face. He was not prepared, however, for Bellova to swipe her claw-like nails across his face like a wild animal.

Stunned, he watched Bellova walk away as the new gashes on his face began to sting. As she reached the end of the hall, she screamed “You’re such an asshole!” before disappearing from Coriolanus’s sight.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Bellova sat in the stands instead of with the mentors, watching as Dr. Gaul’s “rainbow of destruction” engulf the remaining tributes in the arena.

She had no idea that when Dr. Gaul said “rainbow”, she was referring to hundreds of colorful, deadly snakes.

She watched, entranced, as the beautiful mutations smothered the tributes, picking them off one-by-one. She had never admired the “mad” scientist more. Her work was truly beautiful.

Wovey, Reaper, Mizzen, and Coral were soon dead, lying lifelessly beneath the swarm of snakes.

“Now, all colors lead to Gray,” Lucky Flickerman said.

Coriolanus stood watching the screen, amazed at his own success. “She’s… She’s won. It’s over, she’s won.” He looked over to Dr. Gaul, who was standing to the side. “She’s won, let her out.”

The doctor smiled. “Afraid that’s not your call to make, Mr. Snow.”

Bellova bit back a laugh when Lucy Gray began to sing. At least she’d be able to get in once last performance before her vocal chords went slack.

“Dr. Gaul, she won!” Coriolanus repeated, desperation seeping into his voice. “It’s over, let her out.”

“Why aren’t they attacking her?” someone asked.

“Must be the singing,” Coriolanus replied. “It’s calming them.”

He really was a terrible liar.

“She can’t sing forever,” Festus said.

Bellova noticed some of the students around her begin to cry as they watched Lucy Gray sing shakily. ‘Pathetic,’ she thought.

“Dr. Gaul, please,” Coriolanus begged. “Get her out. Get her out!”

One by one, the Academy students began to chant “Get her out! Get her out!”, almost overpowering the sound of Lucy Gray’s singing.

‘No,’ Bellova thought desperately. ‘Don’t. Just let her die.’

Then, Coriolanus said, “Who will watch the Games if there’s no victor?”

The chanting came to a halt.

Dr. Gaul looked around, seeing that she was vastly outnumbered. “Get her out,” she murmured just loud enough to be heard.

“She’s won! Lucy Gray!” Lucky Flickerman cried over the roar of the student body. “Coriolanus Snow is the winner of the 10th Annual Hunger Games!”

Bellova’s face burned with fury, her patience finally snapping after days of wearing thin.

She was no longer willing to overlook Coriolanus’s behavior. She had let him get away with too much.

It was time that he faced some real consequences.

As she exited the hall quietly, she smiled, a cruel, twisted smile. She knew exactly how she would make him pay.

✧ ‧˚₊ ❆ ‧ ₊ ⊹˚✧ ‧˚₊ ❆ ‧ ₊ ⊹˚✧ ‧˚₊ ❆ ‧ ₊ ⊹˚✧ ‧˚₊ ❆ ‧ ₊ ⊹˚✧ ‧˚₊

TAGLIST: @daenerysqueenofhearts, @squidscottjeans, @euphemiaamillais, @gracieroxzy

Author’s Note: Thank you for reading! Please let me know what you think in the comments! This was another decently long chapter, and I believe it has been the most intense one yet. Stay tuned for Chapter Six!

Also, let me know if you want to be added to the tag list!

#coriolanus snow #tbosas #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #coriolanus snow x oc #original character #thg prequel #the hunger games #coriolanus snow x reader #dr gaul #lucy gray baird

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isa-loves-you · 8 months

Text

Telling People, You're a couple. | The Group Chat Head canons | Pt.2

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Soft willy- you and nick have been dating for almost 2 months now. It's still crazy to you that you have this man, I mean come one look at him he is the definition of what everyone wants to be or be with. respectful, good height, nice built, the funniest person you have ever met, sweet and caring nick was all these things; which is why you were kinda scared of telling people you were a couple.

It's not like you were the most horrible person to look at but you in your mind you just thought you were okay nothing special just your average joe, but to nick you were the most beautiful person he'd ever met so of course he wanted to show everyone how special he is to have you in his life. Ever since you guys started dating he's been trying to get your approval to tell his fans but you still felt a little anxious on the idea so nicked eventually stopped asking to respect your decision.

One day you and nick were at a burger place eating lunch talking about his new album. “I don't know what I really want for the cover but I was kinda thinking if you would be able to pose for it?” Nick said looking hopeful at you “Nick I don't know, what if people connect the dots? I'm already on most of the tracks. It would be weird if I am also on the cover.”. He had to admit it would be kinda obvious but that was the whole point, he was happy that you were there to help accomplish the album and it would just be even more awesome if he got to see your face on the front of it all

“Here your refill sir” the waitress interrupted yours and nick conversation with a smile “oh thanks” “if you need anything, and i mean anything else just let me know” the waitress was basically eye fucking nick while saying her little beg of attention from nick. This mad you fucking livid like who does she think she is talking to a random man like this and in front of his girlfriend out of all people.

“Thanks but i'm good” Nick let out an uncomfortable laugh while trying not to look at her anymore. You had to admit this girl was pretty but you were definitely better looking than her and that's all you needed in the moment to make a decision that went against your words. “You know what?I will pose for the cover "what do i have to hide” for the rest of the day. Nick couldn't stop thanking you and asking if you were sure about this but you already agreed and can't go back on it now.

Two weeks later you and Nick were drinking and trying to think of all the different types of ways to take pictures. Since the songs on the album were based off of video games more specifically the games you could only play on the Nintendo DS you came up with the idea of taking them on a DS. After three hours later you and Nick finally captured the right picture to put on the album.

A couple of days passed, and Nick had posted the cover as a promotion which was the picture of you on a DS with a bold light blue font that read “Digital Dreams”.

(This is sorta what I was going for. obvious if you don't like it you can totally imagine something else. Also credit to whoever these beautiful people are , I am jealous.)

In the caption of the post Nick had credited all the people who worked on the album including you but did it a completely different way. “I also want to thank my amazing partner for helping me throughout the process and even being on the album front and in the song @ ur username i love you.”

You were surprised at the amount of people who were so supportive of you guys, of course there were some people who weren't, but you couldn't care. You were just happy that Nick was happy.

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Larry- you were getting some food for you and Larry because he said he hasn't eaten all day. You and Larry have been dating for almost a month and it was the best thing that has happened to you in a while. Everyday with him was so much fun and the group was accepting of you for dating their friend.

You had gotten him and you something small because Nick and Tanner wanted you and Larry to go with them to dinner later but since Larry didn't eat you just grabbed something while you were out so he wouldn't be so hungry later. You had stepped into the house looking for Larry but he was in his room doing the podcast with the others.

You knocked on his door which he called out for you to open “dude you didn't have to do that thank you so much” “no problem it wasn't a bother to me”. You walked up to his desk to set the food down “hi everyone” you waved to all of the boys in the call which they waved back.

You stood there for a couple more minutes talking to them before you left to go be on your phone and leave them back with their work. Almost 45 minutes later Nick, Larry, and Tanner came out so you guys could go to dinner and have a fun night out.

You woke up the next morning in Larry's bed since you didn't want to drive home last night. You see Larry at his desk looking at the podcast comments, you walk up to him and put a hand on his shoulder “so do they love me” you let out a small laugh. “They love you alright, it seems like they love you more than me” “well in that case switch me jobs, i would love to make dumb jokes all day “. you guys shared a laugh and a few more while looking at the comments. You were glad that the people who loved him were happy that he was with you.

#isaacwhy #larry croft #softwilly x reader #tgc #the group chat #the group chat podcast #tooyumi #yumi #yumi tgc #yumi x reader #big t #larrycroft x reader

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blue-rose-soul · 2 months

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Love ur au!!! You have so many interesting thoughts I just adore reading everything you’ve posted!

You’ve already established that Alastor would have exactly zero interest in any sort of bond with his dearly detested sperm donor but I was curious as to what you thought on whether Lucifer would want a relationship with Alastor? How would he approach that?

Hey, much appreciated! Honestly, with the first post I expected it to be a weird niche AU no one besides me would enjoy. I'm really glad you and others are enjoying it and I'm enjoying you guys' questions!

I do think Lucifer would want to try forming a relationship with his long lost son (that feels so weird to type, imagine how weird it would be for Lucifer to say the phrase aloud, lol). From what we've seen of him, he seems like a loving and sweet man who adores his family, even if he's not always the best at expressing that love. I think if he found out he had a kid out there, no matter who that kid was, he'd want to form some kind of relationship with them. Of course, Alastor being Alastor complicates things quite a bit.

They didn't exactly make a great first impression on one another, on top of which Lucifer harbors a lot of guilt for leaving Nicaise to raise a child alone, and Alastor to grow up without a father. Especially when he learns what happened to Nicaise later. Lucifer thinks it's his fault Alastor is the way he is, which... kinda sorta fair? Alastor definitely had an unstable childhood which certainly played a part in Alastor growing to become an unstable adult. That being said, ultimately there were a lot of outside factors contributing to that instability, and at the end of the day, Alastor's choices were his own.

I go with the 'Dexter-like moral code' interpretation of Alastor's murder targets. But I also think there was a fair amount of disproportionate retribution. A man who beats his wife definitely deserves to get beat back and then divorced, but not butchered like an animal. Granted, the culture being what it was at the time, it's doubtful Alastor's targets would have faced any other kind of retribution than what he gave them.

All this to say that Alastor feels perfectly justified in the horrible things he's done, and Lucifer blames himself for Alastor becoming this warped, vengeful person.

Lucifer's attempts to get close to Alastor are horribly, painfully awkward. Remember how he answered Charlie's phone call with, "Heeeeeeeey, bitch!"

Yeah.

He tries, he really does, but a lot of the times Alastor just shuts him down before he can even open his mouth. So he tries going to Charlie for help.

"Ooooof, see, here's the thing, dad... I want to help, I really do! But I'm trying to do this thing where I'm more respectful of other people's boundaries. I mean, I'd love to see you and Alastor getting along! But if he doesn't want to talk with you, I'm not going to force it? As long as you guys aren't fighting? I'm sorry."

And that's as far as Lucifer gets with Charlie. So he tries talking to Niffty and Husk, the two people in the hotel who know Alastor best. Niffty is... sweet, but not entirely helpful. Husk gives what advice he can, but he's got his own chip on his shoulder regarding Alastor, understandably.

"Look, Alastor's a mean son of a bitch who lives to make my life more of a hell than it already is. He's fucked in the head. Always has been. You might as well cut your losses."

That's disheartening to say the least.

I do want there to be a happy-ish end where reconciliation happens. But it would take a loooooooot of time and patience on Lucifer's part. Especially with Alastor making an active effort not to get close with anyone at the hotel.

#ask #anonymous #Hazbin Hotel #the Devil's Bastard AU #Lucifer Morningstar #Alastor #Charlie Morningstar #Husk (Hazbin Hotel)#wanted to say this up there but wasn't sure where to fit it in #Lucifer might try forming a bond by talking about Nicaise but that only serves to enrage Alastor #''Keep my mother's name OUT of your mouth''

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am-i-the-asshole-official · 5 months

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am I the asshole for sort of accidentally ruining someone's wedding and kind of dooming their marriage?

I know that sounds really really bad but please bear with me because I really didn't mean for this to happen and I still just feel really confused about the part I played in all this and don't know if I'm an asshole for it.

I (23f) used to date this guy in college on and off, over the course of several months. He dropped me out of the blue one day and I saw later on social media he was engaged to a girl we both knew. I'm still unclear if she was aware that he and I were in a situationship deal while he was also, I guess, dating her and playing serious. I just figured okay icky but whatever, we won't be speaking again.

Then I get a wedding invitation. I figured it had to be a mistake, no way she'd want me there so I called her (she'd been my RA at one point so I still had her number saved). She said no, no mistake I was legitimately invited because we'd sorta been close during that year she was my RA and she was so nice over the phone idk I felt bad for wanting to say no so I said yes, I'd be there and also sent the rsvp back. I know I should've said something like hey I used to mess around with your soon to be husband I don't think I should be there especially if you didn't know about that but I just didn't say anything about it.

I continued to feel weird about it up until the day of the wedding. The reception was lovely if a little awkward mostly because I felt so awkward, but nearly two hours went by and I started hearing in chatter that they couldn't find the groom. People in the wedding party were really starting to freak out thinking he just straight up left.

They eventually found him, he locked himself in a room at the hotel where the reception was being held. Eventually someone comes to me saying I need to go talk to him because he only wants to speak to me. I just truly wanted to die and get swallowed up by the ground but I said fine I'll go talk to him and see if I can convince him to come out.

We talk, he says he can't go through with it because he's been staring at me the entire time and not even thinking about the bride to be literally on the other side of the door listening to us. I got a little heated telling him that he's really hurting her and it's extra shitty because that wasn't just about him it's about her too, hes the one who proposed to her, planned a wedding with her, ect. I said call it off if you want but you and I aren't getting back together and you need to go out there either way and talk to her.

After that he came out, idk what was discussed exactly with her or the wedding party but eventually they said the ceremony will go through as planned. I couldn't get out of there fast enough, I felt so horrible that I'd probably ruined this girl's dream day and I should've turned down the invitation and been straight up with her.

I tried to forget about it then three months later he hits me up on a blank burner account on facebook explaining it was him and asking me for nude pictures. I screenshot the messages, did not respond, and sent them to his wife. They both blocked me on everything after that but I heard from a mutual friend that she'd filed for divorce, they hadn't even been married for three full months.

It's not solely because of me that they got divorced, apparently there was a whole slew of girls he'd been messaging and he never really stopped messing around behind her back but I feel like if I'd just said something right away during that initial call maybe she wouldn't have gone through with it and wouldn't have been put in that position as the wife who got cheated on.

What are these acronyms?

#aita #am i the asshole

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walrus150915 · 7 months

Text

Goldenheart headcanons for when they have only started dating and were awkward as hell

(because I am a trans bi teenager who wants to experience mlm love yet can't because I'm afraid to date boys due to my dysphoria)

I noticed you people like when I make long posts like these and I love them too so I think I can share some hcs of mine about this stage of their relationship bc I have a lot honestly :]

- they started dating when they were around 16yo

- none of them actually had feelings for each other before puberty hit and they were like "damn my bestie is kinda fine- WHAT"

- Bal fell first. Ambrosius fell and broke the floor under him bc boyyyy did he fall HARD

- Bal navigated his feelings like "Ugh okay I guess that's what happens when you're friends with a handsome guy everyone has a crush on. That'll pass. That's part of puberty. Stay calm" meanwhile Ambrosius screamed in his pillow and freaked out and cried only to pretend nothing bothered him. It was hard to pretend when you literally study at the same academia/school/whatever and see each other every day bc you're best friends

- during the mutual pining era the PE lessons were DIFFICULT. Especially when they were put up against each other

- they look like friends who had no problem hugging/brushing each other's hair/being close physically in general yet when the feelings appeared, the things which used to be very easy turned torturous

- Ballister was the one to ask if Ambrosius saw that their friendship changed. Ambrosius couldn't hold it in anymore and mumbled through his confession so fast and awkward Ballister has only understood phrases like "I really like you" and "romantically I mean" and "you're very cool and that'd be sick if we became boyfriends"

- Bal turned his face to the side and muttered something like "yeah I think it would"

- and so they became boyfriends!!

- has something changed in the way they behaved around each other? Yeah but also not really. They were still besties and the physical contact became A LITTLE easier now that the sorta relationship they had was clear between them, but they just couldn't help but blush while touching each other

- their first kiss was a mess dude😭😭

- Ambrosius wanted it to go as smoothly as possible so he watched romantic movies and practiced kissing with his hand (embarrassing? Yeah I now) but when it was time to finally show off his skills he panicked and pressed his lips to Ballister's for a few seconds then his nose almost bled out bc of the nerves (not me projecting on Ambrosius but that's literally what happened to me when I had my first kiss)

- Ballister seemed calm about this whole thing but it doesn't mean he was. When they had their first ever date he brushed his teeth extra clear just to make sure he'd smell good during their first kiss. Bro was THRILLED

- basically Ambrosius was overthinking this and Ballister was... Also overthinking I'M SORRY THESE TWO ARE HORRIBLE

Now the headcanons are for the time when they've been dating for like more than a few months and have kinda got used to each other in this new ~romantic~ way

- Bal's way of flirting wasn't really obvious since he doesn't look like a guy who can come up with romantic compliments on the spot, however I think he touched Ambrosius if he wanted to express his feelings for him. Stroke his bleach-damaged hair, make their pinkies intertwine, put his head on his shoulder and nuzzle into him - this or he'd infodump new history/physics/chemistry facts he learnt

Bal: Okay, did you know that [some really complicated science stuff I cannot describe in words because I'm a literature major]

Ambrosius, heart-eyed, no clue what he's talking about: Wow that's really interesting anyways do you want me to change my surname to Boldheart-

- Ambrosius looks like a total theatre kid so I think he often flirted with Bal by quoting some love poems they had in their curriculum. Of course he quoted their analogue of Romeo's monologue under Juliet's balcony why do you think he wouldn't

- Having said that, whenever he quoted something which referred to a woman, he changed pronouns and general words bc he's attentive like that. Sometimes it got absurd tho. "Manservant of the moon" instead of "maid" like dude😭😭😭😭

- Ballister tried his best not to laugh but also not to pass out bcuz of the amount of praise his boyfriend gave him which was actually a lot. My man is as much of a mess as Ambrosius is let's not forget that

- one day Ambrosius quoted something which was not from the curriculum but instead from Bal's favorite book. I think Bal liked adventure books about knights which sometimes included romance and I imagine the dialogue going:

Ambrosius: "And even if I had to turn against the whole world to follow you-

Them together: "-I would do it with no hesitation-"

Ambrosius: "Because you are my world, Sir Redsword"

Them: *staring at each other*

Bal, all blushing: ...that's not from the books our teacher told us to read

Ambrosius, also blushing madly: Yeah but I figured I like some variety

- That's when Bal knew this guy was his forever soulmate

- Bal used to be taller than Ambrosius for a long time of their early years but then Ambrosius got late height boost or idk how it's called. Basically dude went from 5'5 to 6'1 overnight and I know Ballister was PISSED

- these two totally kissed in the janitor's closet when they needed some privacy I'm telling you (not even in a "steamy" way although I think some sort of tension existed - cmon they were late teens bro do you really think puberty is nice to teenagers???).

- why would you get a private space where you can explore this side of your relationship safely when you can have a literal closet with racks and mops and buckets, am I right

- Ambrosius tried writing poems for Ballister they SUCKED

- Ballister still saved each and one of them. One day, he'll sort through his things to move to his own place after the wall comes down and find these yellow checkered sheets of paper, full of bad rhymes and silly words. He'd bring all of them to his (and Ambrosius's) new apartment

Okay now the last hcs which I honestly have no idea how to call but umm ✨what people around them thought about their blooming romance✨

- Queen Valerin understood something was up on the spot. Like, for a straight woman, her gaydar worked flawlessly😭 it was enough for her to see them hide the fact that they held hands to go "I know what you are". She was pretty supportive although she did ask Bal on their one-to-one meeting to "use protection" like all moms do🖐

- The Director also knew something was up but her reaction was more like "Sir Ambrosius will grow out of it". As you know, he never did LMAOO

- Todd was hilariously oblivious despite teasing Ambrosius like "HAHA LOLLLL GOLDENLOIN WHY R U ALWAYS WITH THIS COMMONER GUY ARE YOU IN LOVE WITH HIM OR SOMETHING". He did it in a cishetero "haha gotta mock my homie for being gay" yet DID NOT REALIZE his homie was, indeed, gay

- some cadets could pick up on it, some didn't

- anyway I think the general public knew nothing about it bc if they did that'd be a scandal worse than Henry the 8th's when he created a new religion bc his loins were on fire thanks to Anne Boleyn

ALSO GET THIS LITTLE PIECE (which I don't really like bc of the coloring choices) OF THEM :D

I swear Ambrosius isn't yellow irl😭😭 I'm myself asian I now better than that

That's about it I guess! Lemme know what you think (if you wanna use/adopt these hcs, feel free to do whatever you want with them! Just tag me so I could see it wjsjjajaj!!!!) ;3

#nimona #ballister boldheart #ambrosius goldenloin #ballister x ambrosius #goldenheart #nimona fanart #headcanons #nimona headcanons #man why's this so long #sorry guys #i hope my words make sense sorry if they dont #theyre tiny😭

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anyasathenaeum · 1 year

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Hey there again! I wanna ask for Vash x reader who also has a ton of scars from various sources (fights, accidents, stray cats, etc.) and is a bit nervous about how he might react to them. Twist is, they actually kinda like their scars and personally think they're actually kinda pretty on a good day. They like finding little patterns in them. It's only other people's reactions they're insecure about. They also make sure Vash knows they're entirely non-judgmental about his scars and think he's absolutely beautiful. Hope this isn't too long of an ask fjfifjcusisj thank u <3

Constellations on Your Skin

Pairing: Vash x reader

A/N: As somebody who's got scars and actually thinks they're cool, I LOVE this prompt! It's not too long an ask at all, thank you for requesting!! Hopefully this is sorta what you were hoping for??

You never really understood why other people made you so nervous with respect to your scars. Sure, you had plenty of them, and you genuinely found them beautiful on the odd day, but why did the idea of other people seeing them make you wanna hide and never come out?

And Vash... Vash, of all people, made you nervous.

'But why? He's literally the nicest guy, so why does he make you nervous about your scars?' You thought to yourself, trying to piece it together.

'Maybe because he'll never look at you the same way ever again,' a little voice whispered from within, making a shiver go down your back - you didn't want to picture that.

"Hey, (Y/N)? You okay? You've been super quiet and you look troubled," Vash's voice interrupted your thoughts, causing you to look up quickly. Vash stood in front of you, looking down at you with a gently-concerned expression.

"Hmm? Oh, yeah, I'm fine, Vash. Thanks for checking, but I promise I'm alright," You brushed him off, offering him a smile you hope he'd buy as a distraction.

Clearly, though, Vash knew better than that. A slight frown appeared on his face and he sat down in the sand next to you, watching you carefully.

"I don't know about that. You've had an awfully serious look on your face for a little while, and it looks like something's bothering you. You know you can talk to me about anything, right, (Y/N)?"

Vash's tone was gentle, and you could see the kindness and genuine worry in his eyes as he spoke to you. You never really understood how he could continue being so kind and genuine after all the horrible things that had happened to him.

You let out a soft sigh, thinking a bit to yourself, weighing your options - would it be worth just voicing your fears out in the open? In front of Vash? Would that take away some of the weight of your fears? Or would it just confirm them and leave you feeling like you wished you could disappear?

"Y-You don't have to tell me!" Vash let out a small, nervous laugh, "I-I just wanted to make sure you knew you had somebody to talk to if you needed to!"

You just shook your head quickly, "No, no! It's not that, Vash. I-" You swallowed hard, a weak smile appearing on your lips, "I'm just trying to figure out if I'm brave enough to actually talk about what's bothering me."

Vash just smiled at you, scooching closer to you and nudging your shoulder gently with his, "Aww, don't be so hard on yourself, (Y/N). You're plenty brave, no question about that!"

You let out a soft laugh at that, and somehow, just that small action and single interaction gave you the strength to do something you didn't really ever do around others - you rolled up your sleeves.

Your skin was marked with several scars, some older and faded, some newer and more visible, and of all different origins. Vash's eyes widened as his gaze landed on your scars, and you could see them flitting from scar to scar, taking them in.

"I've got a lot of these, from all sorts of situations," You explained softly, looking down at your skin, smiling softly to yourself, "Fights, accidents, even just stray animals who didn't trust me much, they're all here. Don't get me wrong, I actually like my scars. I think they can be beautiful sometimes - telling my stories to those who see them and reminding me I've survived through a lot. The problem is... others who see them don't think the same way I do. They look at me differently once they see them."

"What do you mean?" Vash asked softly, his eyes leaving your skin to look into your eyes as he asked, "How do people see you once they've seen your scars?"

You shrugged slightly, rolling your sleeves back down, "They pity me. Or treat me like I'm made of glass and that I'll shatter if they look at me wrong. I just... am always afraid of how people will react when they see my scars."

"Constellations."

"What?" You looked at Vash, your eyebrows raising in confusion.

Vash simply smiled, before extending his hand out to you, silently asking you to give him your hand. Slowly, you extended your hand to him and before you could register what was happening, Vash gently rolled your sleeve back up and began tracing patterns across your skin, connecting scars to each other.

"See? They're constellations!" Vash just grinned at you warmly, and you couldn't help but smile at him in return as he continued to explain, "You've got constellations on your skin."

After a moment, you began to laugh softly, more to yourself than out loud, "I do that, too. I draw patterns on my skin sometimes. It... makes me happier about them. Makes me feel like they're not so bad."

"They're part of you. And that makes them beautiful."

You looked up at Vash as he said that, heat rising to your face as he smiled at you.

"D-Do you really think so?" You asked quietly, your gaze meeting his.

Vash just nodded, his smile only widening, "Of course. They're part of you, (Y/N), how could they be anything but beautiful? They're you."

You only felt the heat intensifying in your face as you replied, "Thank you, Vash... that's kind of you to say. I-I was really scared of what you would think when you saw them."

Vash's eyes widened, "You were nervous because of me? I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to make you feel like-"

"No, no!" You cut him off immediately, shaking your head, "It's nothing you did, Vash, I promise! You've been wonderful about everything, and extremely sweet, it's just my own fear."

Vash just looked at you, the expression on his face telling you that he wasn't entirely convinced, so you just sighed out, "I-I guess... I just didn't want you to treat me or think of me differently. You're one of the best people I know, and it would hurt the most if you did end up treating me differently. Not that you would! I just..."

You trailed off, grasping as straws as you tried to figure out how to get across that you didn't blame Vash for your fears.

"I have a lot of scars, too."

Vash's voice was so quiet that you almost didn't hear him. You glanced over at him, your eyes wide as he continued to speak,

"I'm covered in them. I don't like people seeing them, either. It's... embarrassing. I've got a lot of scars."

"Constellations."

Now it was Vash's turn to look at you in confusion, causing you to smile gently at him just as he had at you.

"You've got a lot of constellations, Vash," You explained, smiling at him, "Just like me. We both have a lot of constellations on our skin. Your scars are distinctly part of you, Vash, and they're beautiful because they're a part of you. You're beautiful, truly. More so than I think you know or will ever let yourself believe. So, if you ever need reminding, I'll be there to do just that."

Vash just took in your words, the very same he had given you just minutes prior, suddenly seeing them in a new light. A gentle blush spread across his cheeks as Vash felt his heart fluttering in his chest, a small smile appearing on his lips. Maybe, just maybe, for once, he'd let himself believe you.

"Thank you, (Y/N)."

#trigun #trigun stampede #trigun x reader #trigun stampede x reader #vash the stampede #vash the stampede x reader #vash x reader #anya's athenaeum

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svtdarlingbby · 1 year

Text

Carried Away - DinoxIdol!Reader

pairing: Dino x reader genre: fluff warnings: minor injury word count: 2,336

It was a fateful day in the dance studio. Your group was preparing for their comeback and although you had practiced the choreography for your new song, you personally needed more practice. It wasn't that you were a bad dancer by any means; you just found that practicing the choreography alone helps you better memorize the moves.

Just as you were beginning the vibe with the song, you hear a knock at the door. Typical. This was a huge building and there were so many idols working here. It's not surprising that someone else would need to use the dance studio at the same time as yourself.

Catching your breath, you made your way to unlock and open the door to be met with one of the Seventeen members.

Chan was it?

He lets out a quick "Thanks" as he made his way in.

"You're welcome" you reply.

Just as you pivoted back to the space where you previously were dancing, your passive thoughts are suddenly interrupted.

"WATCH OUT! YOUR SHOELACES ARE-"

Suddenly you were met face to face with the hardwood floor of the dance studio as your body, especially your knee, collided against the unforgiving studio floor.

"Ouch..." you immediately let out after the painful thud against the floor.

"Are you okay??" asked Chan as he immediately came over and helped you up as he sat down next to you with concern adorning his features.

The searing pain began to radiate throughout your left knee as you held back tears. Nonetheless, you muttered an "I think so" as you began to try to stand up. This proved to be a horrible choice as your left leg gave out due to the pain.

"Don't stand on it. May I take a look?" asked Chan as he noticed how red your knee was becoming.

At that point you were in so much pain you might as well have accepted Chan's help. In hindsight, it was probably a good thing that someone else was present in the dance studio during your accident. It would be better than writhing in pain alone. At the same time though, you didn't want to trouble someone you barely knew, especially since the whole incident was caused by your negligence.

"Yes, I guess so," you muttered, avoiding his gaze as he examined your knee.

"It looks like a bump is already forming, but it's kind of concerning that you can't even walk on it. Does it hurt if I touch it?" he asked, barely brushing his finger on your knee.

"OWW! YES!" you reacted immediately as you retracted your knee away from him.

"Oh my gosh, sorry!" Chan apologized with sincere regret written all over his face, "But I really think you should get this checked out immediately at the clinic. Trust me, ignoring injuries like this is never a good idea."

"Yeah you're right. Thank you Chan," you say as you attempt to make your way out of the dance studio to the clinic. Needless to say, you fail immediately as your leg gives out once again.

"Whoa, watch out. I can help you get to the clinic. Seriously it's no trouble- wait sorry. What's your name?" he asked with a chuckle.

Though your leg was burning in pain, you couldn't help but to smile at his question. "Y/N. And yes, I would really appreciate your help Chan but you really don't have to!"

"Ah yes, Y/N! And seriously, it's no trouble. You can barely walk haha, I'll help you get there. I don't mind," he said as he stood up and stretched his hand outward to you. Though you were in pain and embarrassed, this was the best help you could get. How could you deny him? He's willing to help you, who's practically a stranger who happens to operate in the same building and company. Grasping his chiseled hand into yours, Chan carefully pulled you up to stand next to him. Things sorta got awkward as you both realized how close you'd have to be to one another for Chan to escort you safely.

"So erm, are you okay hopping?" asked Chan somewhat shyly. "Wait that was rude! Do you care if I carry you? Or do you just want to use me like a crutch?" Chan realized how awkward he was making this situation but at the same time he wanted to be respectful. He hardly knew you, and carrying someone moments after first meeting will be awkward even if it's an emergency.

Those feelings were also being reciprocated by yourself. A guy you just met carrying you throughout the HYBE building??? Yeah, everything should be private and all but still, suspicions would be raised. Although being carried sounds like the most painless option, you knew that you wanted to maintain your reputation.

"It's okay Chan, I'll just hold onto you and attempt to hop my way down to the clinic" you replied, looking at the ground.

"Alright, cool," agreed Chan as he allowed your arm to wrap around his shoulder so you could be supported as you two made your way to the elevators.

The sound of your shoes echoing the hallways made up for the awkward silence brought on by your proximity to one another. As much as you tried to focus on hopping efficiently toward the elevators, you still felt your heart race and your face heat up regarding your predicament. Here you are, arm around the Lee Chan of Seventeen, bobbing around awkwardly as you feel his grip on your wrist tighten to stabilize you. This was not what you had in mind when you decided to practice dancing on your own.

You two finally made it to the elevators, and you were hoping and praying no one would be in the elevator when it came down to your floor. After what seemed like ages, the elevator came down and lo and behold, the elevator doors opened up to none other than Yoon Jeonghan and Kwon Soonyoung. Chan mentally cursed to himself. Why, out of everyone, did God send down the two members who would tease him relentlessly for having an unsuspecting member from another group wrapped around him.

"Chan! Hey! What's up!" yelled Soonyoung as Chan shot him an annoyed look. Apparently the two didn't get the hint.

Avoiding eye contact with his group mates, Chan simply replied, "Y/N needed help going the the clinic."

The tension in that thirty second elevator ride was suffocating. Jeonghan and Soonyoung simply nodded, but from the corner of your eye you and Chan could see the two exchanging knowing glances at one another. Chan immediately knew they were going to bug him about this incident later.

Once you all arrived to the floor of the clinic, Jeonghan let out a teasing "Bye Bye" to Chan and nicely enough, well wishes for you.

"Feel better soon Y/N!"

"Thank you," you replied as you hobbled out of the elevator holding onto Chan for dear life. You noticed how tense Chan suddenly appeared; did you embarrass him in front of his members?

Just as doubts began to circulate within your head, Chan suddenly began to speak. "Man, those guys are pretty annoying."

"Is that so?" you didn't really know how to reply.

"Yeah, I just know they're gonna ask a lot of questions to me. Don't worry though, helping someone like you is more important," he chuckled and squeezed your wrist tenderly, which suddenly made you feel more at ease with him. Certainly the atmosphere became less awkward.

"Aw, thanks Chan. And it's okay. If any of my group members were in that elevator I would not hear the end of it," you laughed as you thought of the group members you loved so dearly; though they were a pain in the butt sometimes.

The small talk you two shared made up for the time it took to reach the clinic.

"Well, here we are," said Chan as he guided you to the nearest chair for you to sit down in.

Thankfully a nurse was nearby and promptly took notice of you. She took your information before she began her analysis.

"So Y/N, I take it that you may have suffered a leg injury of some sort?" she asked as she finished washing her hands.

"Yeah, funny story. I fell onto the ground because my shoelaces were untied," you began with a chuckle, "Thankfully Chan here was in the room and made sure I was okay and encouraged me to come to the clinic."

"Well Chan was certainly right! We don't want to neglect an injury like this!" said the nurse as Chan shyly looked away, though you could see the smile he was trying to hide.

The nurse began to examine your knee, and she took notice of the way you winced when her finger brushed the bump that was beginning to form. She did also note the discoloration too. The nurse wrapped up your knee in a knee brace and left the room to go grab some crutches and extra painkillers since she determined that it was just a mild strain accompanied with a painful bruise. You were surprised that Chan stayed this long, but you appreciated having someone in the room with you since this was your first major-ish injury as an idol.

"Hey Chan, I think I'll be okay. Thank you for taking me here! But I don't wanna take away from your dance time," you said.

"It's no problem Y/N, I just wanna make sure you get all cleared! I'm glad nothing is broken, seriously" he replied with a smile. Chan did really want to make sure you were okay. He liked being around you. Sure you were a little shy at first, but you're good company and honestly he finds you pretty sweet and nice. He'll also do anything right now to avoid Jeonghan and Soonyoung.

His response made you a little flustered but thankfully the nurse came back with crutches just in time.

"Now Y/N, stay off of this leg for about a week and take plenty of rest. I've notified your manager too, so don't worry about all the logistics and focus on resting," she said as she handed you the crutches. As she turned around to find any other paperwork, she was met with a surprise when she realized Chan was still there.

"Oh my! Chan! You haven't left?" she asked dramatically causing you and Chan to laugh.

"No ma'am. Just wanted to make sure Y/N here was alright!" he replied with his signature smile.

"Chivalry is not dead! Y/N, he's a keeper!" she said not so subtly causing you to feel flustered all over again. Chan also felt himself get butterflies over the nurse's comment.

"OH no it's not what it looks like!" you tried to clear up the situation but the nurse gave you a knowing look as she dismissed the both of you.

You and Chan awkwardly left the clinic but thankfully Chan broke the silence with his laughter.

"That nurse is something," he laughed, making you feel at ease once again.

"I'm never going to forget this visit," you chuckled as you hobbled alongside Chan with your crutches.

"Let's go to the elevators. What floor is your dorm on?" he asked, slowing his pace so you could keep up.

"I'm on floor 12," you replied, "I mean, the stairs are kind of useless at this point for me!"

"Haha, as long as you listen to the nurse you'll be back on your feet in no time. Everything would be perfect," chuckled Chan as he pressed the elevator button.

Well, if you did truly listen to all of the advice the nurse gave you, you'd end up being with Chan. Oh my god, he couldn't have meant it like that, could he? No, I'm sure he just brushed off that comment of her's.

"Haha yeah," was all you really could reply.

Thankfully this time the elevator was empty as Chan pressed the 12 button for you as well as the button to the dance studio where you two initially found yourselves. It was silent the whole ride but it was a comfortable silence since neither of you were forcing conversation. Once you go to your floor, Chan walked you to your dorm.

"Well, I guess this is where we part," said Chan as you two stood in front of your door.

"I guess so. Chan, seriously, I cannot thank you enough. You didn't have to help me this much, but I really appreciate it," you told him genuinely.

"It's no problem at all Y/N. I know how important dancing would be to someone like you and the faster you're treated the quicker you can come back to dancing," he said with a smile as he began to walk back.

"Thank you Chan, and one more thing?" you asked as you finished unlocking your door.

"What's that Y/N?" asked Chan stopping in his tracks.

As cheesy as it sounds, you tried your best to open up your arms despite being on crutches to give your savior a hug. Honestly, it was so endearing as Chan immediately let himself fall into your arms, while making sure you were still stable of course. Maybe you were exaggerating, but Chan's hug was the nicest hug you've ever received.

"Take care," he smiled as the two of you broke away.

Chan began to walk down the hall. Yes his members are gonna be concerned why he was gone for so long but that can wait. And he knew Jeonghan and Soonyoung will tease the heck out of him once he returns. But honestly, you were so worth it. And he knew he wouldn't get another chance like this. Just as you were about to go into your room, you heard Chan again.

"And one more thing?" asked Chan with a teasing smile.

"Yes Chan?" you playfully asked.

"Can I get your number?"

Should I make a part 2?

#seventeen x reader #seventeen scenarios #seventeen fluff #lee chan x reader #dino x y/n #dino x reader #lee chan fluff #seventeen idol au #dino fluff #seventeen x y/n #seventeen x you

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ticklishfiend · 8 months

Text

Built To Laugh (Good Omens)

(Lee!Crowley, Ler!Aziraphale)

Summary : Aziraphale has been laughing at Crowley all day. Maybe it’s the demon’s turn to laugh for a change?

A/N : this fic takes place after s1 but before s2! so obvs no spoilers for s2 here 😁 i also have not gotten my laptop fixed unfortunately so if there’s any errors it’s prbly cause i wrote this on my phone which i’m Not used to LOL

Word Count : 3304

hope u enjoy!! :)

. . .

When Aziraphale gets in these moods, Crowley can’t help but smile. Well, internally smile. He sorta prides himself on the air of mystery that surrounds his emotions. So he bites his tongue as Aziraphale giggles at him, laughing at how utterly annoyed Crowley looks by his antics.

Aziraphale had found an old joke book in the shop. Well, not really old, when in the hands of beings that have existed since the literal dawn of time. Actually, it couldn’t have been published more than 30 years ago. But it was old in the sense that Aziraphale hadn’t touched it since it had been brought in all those years ago.

Aziraphale told a vague story to Crowley about how it had landed in his possession (this was, of course, after telling him a truly horrible knock-knock joke that Crowley demanded an explanation for why he was being tortured so unjustly). But that story doesn’t matter anymore. What does matter is how giggly Aziraphale has become since realizing how irritating this all was to Crowley.

“Blehck, HORRIBLE, just fffffucking—You’re the angel, I’m the one supposed to be torturing you right now,” said Crowley, exaggerating his hatred of dad jokes just a bit (not by much, these jokes truly were horrible) just to see Aziraphale do that thing when he giggles, covering his mouth and clutching that wretched joke book.

“That was a really bad one, wasn’t it?” Aziraphale said once he collected himself.

“Yes, yes, it was, now will you please stop before I groan myself to death?”

“Always with the dramatics, you are,” said Aziraphale, before grinning, “Just one more?”

Crowley grimaced. “Grk…for the road, I suppose.”

Aziraphale beamed. “Yes, for the road!” He stuck his nose right back into the book, and it wouldn’t be such an unfamiliar sight if he hadn’t been looking up at Crowley every other second just to watch the demon stir.

When Crowley heard a gasp from Aziraphale, he knew he’d found his grand finale. Maybe he’d saved the best for last? (And in the angel’s opinion, he had. Just not in Crowley’s favor.)

“Alright. Are you ready?”

“Get on with it.”

“Yes, but are you ready ready?”

Crowley stuck an eyebrow up. Aziraphale just kept smiling. ‘He really is in the best mood today, isn’t he?’ Crowley thought.

“Crowley, do tell me…when is a door not a door?” His cheeks were plump with the force of his giddy smile.

Crowley blinked. His arms were crossed, laying back lazily against the bookshop’s old cushion chair. He tapped his finger against his arm impatiently.

Of course, this just made Aziraphale smile bigger.

“Come on! You have to play along, it’s part of the fun!”

“For you, angel, part of the fun for you.”

“Maybe you’ll start having fun too if you work with me here.”

“You’re working me, that’s what’s happening right now.”

“Just ask and this will all be over with,” Aziraphale raised his brows for a moment like he does when he gets all smug and silly. Crowley had to bite his tongue not to smile at that.

“Ffffffine,” Crowley sighed hard in feigned exasperation. “Well, I just don’t know, angel! When would a door not be a door? Seems like a paradox to me!”

Aziraphale bit his lip. “When it’s ajar!”

Crowley could only stare blankly at the tittering angel before him. It was a bit hard to conceal his own giggles as Aziraphale burst into laughter seeing Crowley’s unamused expression. But he held steadfast, refusing even the slightest chortle. Crowley hadn’t seen Aziraphale laugh like this in what felt like a millennia.

“You’re a silly one, Aziraphale. A real splinter in my ass.”

Crowley hadn’t seen a more angelic sight in so long. He felt his own face grow warm watching as Aziraphale tried collecting himself, but found he’d been caught back in his deadly case of the giggles. It was just precious.

“You think you’re a real comedian, don’t you?” Crowley said while trying to cover his own smile slyly, elbow now propped on the arm of the chair as he pushed his face into his hand. He tried looking as annoyed as possible.

Soon, Aziraphale caught his breath, a stray giggle leaving every few moments despite himself. They were now staring at each other, both too lost in the moment to think too hard on the implications of it.

But, as it usually goes in moments like this, Aziraphale put the brakes on first. He sat the book on the side table next to him before pushing himself off the chair. “Well, that was rather fun. But I do have some paperwork to fill out regarding the shop. Upstairs always feels the need to know how it’s running,” He gave Crowley an empathetic smile that almost said ‘It did feel good, but you know it can’t last.’ At least, that’s how Crowley interprets it. It’s the same smile he’s been giving him all these years, after every little moment the two shared.

It wasn’t the type of smile Crowley wishes to see on Aziraphale. He rather liked the real ones, with Aziraphale’s round cheeks going pink, the ones with the little lines appearing next to his squinted eyes. Those made him feel warm. This smile always feels distant…more cold.

“Yes well…guess I should be goin’ then, wouldn’t want to distract you from your heavenly duties,” Crowley made his voice go all funny on the last words, almost snarling. Maybe he was trying to make Aziraphale laugh. If he had been, it didn’t work.

“Oh you’re more than welcome to stay! I do believe I have some wine left over from last time, if you want to get started before…well, I thought I could maybe join you after I’m finished,” Aziraphale looked bashful. Apologetic, almost. But he chippered up quickly, pointing a finger to the sky. “Heavenly duties!” He repeated the demon’s words with a hummed chuckle, before retreating away to his study.

He’s always been like this. Leaving before Crowley could accept, so once Aziraphale returned from work it’s like it was entirely Crowley’s decision rather he’d stay or not. Like Aziraphale hadn’t offered in the first place. But that was fine with Crowley. Because even if Aziraphale pretended it hadn’t happened, they both knew it had, and there was a silent agreement between them to not bring it up.

So Crowley did wait in that back room of the shop, where all the giggles and jokes and flirtatious annoyance had grown that lovely tension to start the evening off right once Aziraphale returned.

He didn’t, however, start drinking yet. Crowley rather liked to start sober when they drank together. That way it felt more like an activity they were starting together rather than one Aziraphale was just joining him on.

It was around two hours Aziraphale worked before returning. He walked into the back, giving a surprised smile seeing Crowley had indeed waited for him.

“Ah, you grabbed the good bottle, I see,” Aziraphale wiggled his fingers in the air like one would before diving into a slice of cake. He noticed the bottle had been unopened, and did not mention it.

“Dunno, seems a good night for it,” Crowley popped the cork out with ease, filling one glass he’d brought in for Aziraphale before taking a swig straight from the bottle.

“Oh? And why is that?” Aziraphale sat on his preferred chair before taking the glass and sipping in a dignified manner.

Crowley wiped his mouth with his sleeve. “You just seemed in a good mood today s’all. Figured we could end the night right, proper wine to get your mind out of all that blasted paper.”

“Ah. Well, I suppose I was in rather high spirits earlier. I don’t know what it was about all those jokes, but at the moment they really tickled my funny bone,” Aziraphale took a sip and hummed delightedly.

“Right tickled you were. Could hardly catch your breath, and they weren’t even funny jokes, angel. Really, I’ve got to introduce you to some actual comedians cause it was just a sad display of your humor.”

Aziraphale looked into the glass, swirling his wine. He gave a shy smile without looking up at Crowley. “Maybe it was partly so funny because you just seemed so…agitated by it all.”

Crowley’s eyes widened a bit, surprised Aziraphale actually admitted to it. He couldn’t hold back a smile anymore, and he’d blame the wine for it if you asked. “Oh so I’m what got you all giggly earlier?”

Aziraphale rolled his eyes, but he too couldn’t keep a smile off his face if he tried. He’d also blame the wine. “Oh hush, you wily serpent. It was just funny seeing you so irritated at simple jokes.”

“Nah nah, we’re not moving past this. You think I’m funny!”

“I never said that. If you must know I was…laughing at your expense,” Aziraphale hid his mischievous smile behind the glass as he took a sip.

Crowley gaped in amused disbelief. “So you were making fun of me then? Right, okay, I see how it is-”

“Well it’s a little hard not to when you have such a silly reaction to it!” Aziraphale gestured his free hand towards Crowley as if to say he’s doing it right now.

“Silly reaction? Whaddya mean silly reaction, all my reactions are perfectly rational and mean-spirited and never, never silly,” he growled the word as if to prove his point, but he only succeeded in making Aziraphale giggle again. He turned his head to hide his smile.

Aziraphale took a quiet sip from his glass again, his eyes peering over the edge to look at Crowley. Once he put the glass back in his lap, he said, “I rather like when you’re silly, darling.”

Crowley blushed deep. Darling? He—Aziraphale rarely ever used the word darling. But every time he’s done it these 6000 years (which, again, hadn’t been too often) it sent something wicked through Crowley’s system.

Crowley changed the topic quickly. If he didn’t, he’d probably combust from having to think too hard about what all that meant, and if it meant anything at all.

So they talked for a while. About nonsense, mostly. Just jabber to fill the silence and let out all the thoughts they’d been thinking and waiting to share with the other. They’d both grown just a tad tipsy at this point, and Crowley was almost ready to grab another bottle.

Mainly because he wanted to steer back to their first topic again.

“Yknow I was just thinkin’…you said you, er—that you like when I’m silly, or whatever it was you said. And I…well, I rather like it when you laugh. Has that, er…angelic quality to it. But not in a bad way, I suppose.”

Aziraphale smiled. “Oh. Thank you.”

“Don’t thank me, it’s literally in your DNA, if we even have that. Do angels and demons have DNA? I suppose not, but I mean something’s gotta compose all that’s happening here, physically I mean,” Crowley rambled, now definitely tipsy. He took another swig. “But, yeah like, there’s literally that saying, ‘angelic laughter.’ It’s all up in you, you’re built to have a good laugh.”

“Yes, maybe so. But you have a nice laugh, Crowley! So it can’t all be angelic,” said Aziraphale.

“I do not have a nice laugh. You may have angelic laughter, but I’ve got a demonic cackle. Very different things,” Crowley could feel himself blush, but it was all thanks to the wine. Most definitely.

“I have heard you laugh on many occasions, and in none of them would I describe it as a demonic cackle. If anything you’re more of a giggler,” Aziraphale reached his glass out to Crowley, and through instinct he filled it for him.

“We are not doing this, I refuse to have this argument,” Crowley said before arguing, “Giggling is not something I am even capable of. Not in my DNA.”

“I thought you established we don’t have DNA?”

“Point stands, it’s not in my bones. Giggling is-is-it’s, well— it’s childish, for one, and children aren’t typically seen as demonic.”

“After helping raise Warlock I’d beg to differ, and he wasn’t even the Anti-Christ we thought he was-“

“STILL, angel, still! Point stands, not going back on it. Let’s change the subject, let’s talk about-about dolphins or some nonsense, I don’t really care-“

Aziraphale stood from his chair, and Crowley shut up. He sat next to Crowley on the sofa.

“What are you doing?” Crowley’s voice was low and suspicious. Aziraphale sat his glass on the table, even going so far as to take the bottle from Crowley’s hand to do the same. Crowley let him, of course, but not without raising an eyebrow. “I said, what are you doing?”

“I’m glad you’ve taken that leather coat off, or this would be a much harder ordeal than it needs to be,” Aziraphale said before cracking his knuckles dramatically, waving his hands about as if to loosen them. Crowley’s brows were furrowed and eyes wide.

“That explains absolutely nothing,” Crowley leaned back against the couch, as if to say ‘nope, this isn’t affecting me at all, I’m not the least bit nervous about whatever it is you’re planning right now. I am the image of relaxed.’ His leg was bouncing.

“Well, you claim that you don’t giggle. I want to counter that argument, and I know exactly how to do it,” Aziraphale gave Crowley a devious smile, one an angel shouldn’t be allowed to pull, before wiggling his fingers in the air towards Crowley. Crowley immediately backed his body away, only getting as far as the arm of the couch.

“No, no—you cannot—this is not the direction I’m letting this conversation go!” Crowley held his hands up defensively, curling his legs into himself like the snake he was.

“Come now, you can’t handle a little friendly competition?”

“Hell do you mean competition?! You tickle me, I lose, there’s no competition to be had!” Crowley practically shouted, his nerves taking over.

Crowley had always been on the more…sensitive side, one might say. It was something Aziraphale always found a little too amusing. “You’re a demon!” He’d say, “It’s just so silly how a demon could be as ticklish as you are!”

Crowley did not find it silly. In fact, he found it to be quite the pain in his ass. How was he supposed to look all scary and menacing and demonic when pinching his belly made him fall into laughter so unlike him?

“So you admit you would giggle if I tickled you?”

“When did I ever say that?” Crowley was trying to shove Aziraphale away with his feet now, kicking (maybe too softly) at his thighs like it would do a thing. Aziraphale held his ground like a solid rock.

“Well you said you’d lose! So obviously that means you would giggle if I were to, say…” Aziraphale quickly grabbed hold of one of Crowley’s pestering ankles, scribbling his nails into the socked sole.

“GAHK! NO-!” Crowley shouted, thinking maybe if he expelled his energy through loud sound he might not fall into those giggles Aziraphale apparently thought so much of.

But he didn’t hold strong for long. Luckily, though, his feet were a little too ticklish for mere giggles. Instead, he cackled like no one’s business, so maybe he would win this argument after all.

“Stop! Ahahangel stop! I’ll kick you!” Crowley barked out through roaring laughter. He actually was already kicking Aziraphale, but it was still at his thighs like before. He was just worried he’d eventually nail the angel right in the nose if he kept up with it.

“Well, you aren’t exactly giggling, but maybe it’s just because your feet are too ticklish,” Aziraphale inquired like a scientist running a study. Crowley wrapped his arms around his midsection through his laughter.

“Yehehes they ARE! Now quihihit!” Crowley couldn’t take tickling on his feet for too long, it really was too horrible to bear. Curse this wretched vessel and its terrifyingly sensitive nerve endings.

Without saying a word, Aziraphale darted his hands to the spot just above Crowley’s knees, giving them quick pinches and observing Crowley like a specimen.

“Ohoho nohoho! Angel plehehease!” Crowley felt his resolve slipping, falling into a more giggly realm than before. He gripped onto Aziraphale’s wrists like a lifeline, not shoving him away out of pure trust. Goodness, feelings were a curse.

“Aha! I believe I’ve found quite the giggly spot on you, Anthony!” Aziraphale teased. He only ever used that name when he was trying to get under Crowley’s skin, and damn it if it wasn’t working.

Crowley hated how quickly his face began to flame, a small blink-and-you-miss-it whine slipping from his lips. “You cahahan’t do this to mehehe!” He playfully swat at the hands tickling his knees, rolling over like it’d deter his situation at all. “I’m druhuhunk you bahastard!”

“Yes yes, drunk and oh so giggly,” Aziraphale reiterated, really driving it home how he’d won their little argument. “But it’s so divine hearing you like this, I really don’t want to stop.”

God, Satan, someone help him. Not because Crowley needs the saving, but because now he’s not sure he wants to be saved.

“Ehehevil! Wrehehetched angel!” Crowley giggled, before letting out a very undemonic squeak as fingers began pinching up and down his sides. Aziraphale was practically hovering over him now, and if Crowley’s face wasn’t warm before, it was searing hot now.

“Nohohoho!” Crowley swat at Aziraphale’s hands and arms, squirming from side to side and his midsection was attacked viciously by angelicly gentle fingers.

“Why not, Crowley?” Aziraphale pinched Crowley’s lower ribs, a killer spot on the demon he was very familiar with.

“Behehecause!” Crowley had no good retort in his giggly state, head swarming with endorphins.

“Because why?” Aziraphale was mean when he was in these moods.

“You bahahastard!” Crowley flopped to one side just to protect half of himself (and also to hide his face in the back of the couch), now letting Aziraphale play with his open side like a grand piano. It was miserably fun.

Crowley let Aziraphale play with his ribs for a solid two minutes, giggling his head off into the cushion, before finally having enough and grabbing Aziraphale’s wrists for real this time.

He panted, still hiding his face in the couch. “You…are without a doubt, the most evil angel to ever be created. Just…just deplorable.”

“Oh come on. You can’t say you didn’t have a little fun,” Aziraphale spoke softly, still tipsy and stroking Crowley’s arm like it was second nature.

“I absolutely can say that, actually. Wouldn’t—wouldn’t exactly qualify bein’ tortured as my favorite pastime,” Crowley curled in on himself, if only to hide his lingering smile.

“Always so dramatic,” said Aziraphal before giving Crowley a pat and raising himself off the sofa. “Well, I don’t know about you, but I could certainly do with some more wine, and we’re just about empty. I’ll be back in a moment, dear.”

Aziraphale once again left the room, leaving Crowley to lie on his back and ponder. Thoughts of how silly that situation was, imagine one of the higher ups seeing him in that kind of state. It’d be to the pit for Crowley in an instant. Well, if he still worked for them that is.

Also, Aziraphale had been really pulling him around all day, hadn’t he? Laughing at his expense, tickling the daylights out of him when he’s utterly inebriated. Well, that just won’t do. Won’t do at all.

An angel doesn’t get to just play with a demon all he likes and expect no repercussions.

Crowley pondered some more on that. Just thoughts of revenge and a devilishly ticklish angel he can’t wait to get his hands on.

. . .

a/n : hope u liked it!! thankfully not as sad as my last one i couldn’t take more angst LMAO

#tickle community #tickling #tickle fic #good omens #good omens tickling #lee!crowley #ler!aziraphale #ticklish crowley

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