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s1m0nth3swag · 2 months

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Francis Mosses x GN!Reader

AUTHORS NOTE; Haven't written in a while, but thanks to Arlo, a friend (Hi Arlo, I know you're reading this), Inspiration about Francis Mosses struck (he bought me That's not my neighbor and then continued to freak out about Francis with me) so I wrote this. I have so many thoughts about Francis, so... tell me if you want more because i will deliver ngl. Enjoy (or don't, I don't dictate your feelings)

WARNINGS/ CONTENT INFO; Porn with little to no plot, Submissive Francis, a little non-consensual at the start (but not in a super weird way, imo?), Gender neutral reader (no pronouns used, tried to write as GN as possible with the compliments and thoughts about Readers appearance), not proofread nor have I thought about this much, more a drabble than an actual thoughtful story (not apologising because I had such a long break from writing anything and obviously it's gonna suck a little when I come back)

NSFW UNDER THE CUT!

The first time Francis had realised that he hadn't gotten any touch from another human being was when someone brushed up against him on his way home from work. He had felt like a creep afterwards because he hadn't stopped thinking about what could've happened if the person hadn't moved away and had just stayed pressed against him. That was a week before you started your job as a doorman.

The second time Francis had noticed was when a friend of his had spoken to him on the phone, talking about his new girlfriend. Said friend gave too much intel on their sex life. Francis had wondered if he could have someone the way his friend explained - he quickly brushed the thought off. That was two days before you started working as a doorman.

The third time, he noticed when you had smiled at him. It was your first day, and he was tired from work. You had repeated his name after reading it off of his ID, and he had looked at you for the first time since his eyes kept falling closed, and you smiled so brightly. You had told him his name was nice, and you said it again. Francis swore that the way his name rolled off your tongue was the most beautiful thing he's ever heard. Not even an angel could sound more wonderful. Suddenly, he was a lot more energised. Totally not thanks to the fact that he had immediately grown hard the second he had seen your smile. He had gone to his apartment that night and had jerked off for the first time in probably months. He had always been too tired to previously, but now he couldn't stop thinking about how you'd sound moaning his name. Maybe you were more of a groaner, or you'd whimper and whine. He came as he imagined how you'd look sucking his dick.

Since then, Francis has always looked forward to entry checks. What had normally kept him away from his bed and a good night's sleep was now the best experience of his day. He loved the way you spoke to him even though he was too nervous to respond. Sometimes, he deliberately didn't show his ID at first, just so you'd ask about it, and he could listen to you talk a little more. He felt guilty about it. He knew you had never agreed to feed into this weird little obsession of his. It was awful of him to do this - have you talk to him enough to give him more scenarios to think about that night.

A few weeks after all this had started, Francis had built up the courage to finally ask you out. Just something simple, dinner at his place. He had to cook for himself all the time. Cooking for you as well wouldn't be too different, right?

Francis was wrong. He was anxious that the food wouldn't taste good and kept tasting it just so he could make sure it hadn't mysteriously switched tastes in the last 20 seconds. When you knocked on his door, he took a minute to make sure he didn't look like a mess - though you wouldn't mind either way since he always looked like a mess when he came through during your shifts.

You looked so good when he opened the door. Your hair fell perfectly, your lips looked a little too kissable, and Francis had to stop his train of thought just so he wouldn't embarrass himself by having yet another boner caused by just the way you looked. You were a little shorter than him, smiling up as he let you inside.

"You look good." He mumbled, his cheeks flushing. He seriously had to lay off thinking like a high-schooler. His nervousness and awkwardness were getting really annoying - to him, at least. You grinned, chuckling softly as you took off your shoes. "Thank you. You do as well." His heart for sure burst at that - he knew something else would burst as well if he didn't stop thinking right this second.

Throughout the evening, ignoring his thoughts came easier and easier. The two of you had eaten, you had told him he was a good cook, he had almost excused himself to the bathroom because of it. Now you were sitting on the couch, drinking wine and talking casually.

"You know, when you first walked through, I swore I would die." You giggled, looking at him with a mischievous look. Francis was confused by that statement. "How come?" He asked, tilting his head at you in question. "I was sure you were a doppelganger. You looked too handsome to be real." You cheekily answered, cheeks slightly flushed as you downed your wine. Francis blushed heavily, looked away from you, and thought about your words for a moment. The silence was loud as he wondered what to answer. "..you think I'm handsome?" He questioned while looking at the floor. If he had looked at you, he'd have seen the way you stared at him, your own cheeks coloured a deep red. "Extremely." You muttered. It took him a minute before he could look at you, but when he did, his lips pressed against yours in a desperate kiss.

When you reciprocated, Francis groaned and pulled you closer until you sat on his lap. He was just a tiny bit embarrassed when you gasped and felt his dick press against you. In all honesty, he had held back the entire night, and he was allowed a little selfishness. "Sorry. Can't help it." He muttered between kisses. You just grinned against his lips before grinding against him. A whimper fell from his lips - that was the moment he was actually embarrassed. "That's cute.." You had mumbled, a cheeky grin on your face as you started placing kisses against his jaw and neck. One of your hands trailed down his body to rest right over his crotch, Francis unconsciously bucked his hips up against your hand, whining. He didn't notice anything else as you caught the skin of his neck with your teeth carefully, leaving the softest bite mark on him. He shuddered at the feeling and gasped before realising that you had meanwhile unzipped his pants. A groan slipped from his lips as you ran a finger over his dick, still hidden from sight by his boxers, but god knows he would cum the second you'd touch it without. "Is this okay?" You asked him, and he nodded faster than he even knew he could. "Yes. God, yes. Please, please continue.." he muttered, his breathing heavy as he watched you slide off his lap, settling in front of him and between his legs. His dick twitched at the sight, and he let out a heavy sigh. Minutes later, his pants and boxers were discarded, and the way you looked up at him, his dick so close to your face, made Francis feel the way his orgasm was approaching way too quick. The second you wrapped your hand around him he whined pathetically, bucked up into your hand and knew that he'd definitely cum too soon. Your hand was so soft, cool against his hot flesh, and you worked his dick so good he almost thought you were a professional. He looked down at you through lidded eyes, watched the way you bit your lip, and grinned knowingly. "Such a pretty boy, huh?" You chuckled, and that definitely sealed the deal for Francis. He came, probably ruining his shirt as he dirtied both it and your hand. His heart stopped for a second when you licked your hand while looking up at him. "You didn't give me enough time to taste you properly. Don't look at me like that." You huffed, rolling your eyes at him. "You should probably take off your shirt so you can clean it later." You then winked. He swiftly shed the piece of clothing, entranced by your voice and the way you looked. "Sorry, didn't mean to cum that fast.." he mutters, his voice out of breath. "Jus'.. unused to... this.." he added, clearing his throat awkwardly. You laughed and shook your head. "Don't worry about it. We have all the time in the world to make you last longer. I'm gonna give you a real reason to be tired tomorrow." You winked.

Francis didn't even mind that he was in for a long night.

Your honour I am gnawing at the bars of my enclosure.

#francis mosses #francis mosses x reader #francis mosses x you #x reader #gn reader #thats not my neighbor #milkman x reader

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midnightorchids · 2 months

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I am kinda curious

What would Jason be like if the coffee Cafe owner!reader built in a small library in her Cafe just for him,like she saw he liked reading and went like 'yup. I am building a small library for him'

This is such a fun idea, but omg please forgive me, I went a little overboard. Once I figured out what to write, I couldn’t stop. I apologize for how long it is. Also, this is completely gender neutral, so anyone can read!

But omg also, I was literally kicking my feet and giggling writing the end lol, Anyways enjoy!

Owning a cafe was a difficult job, there was always much to do— customers to attend to, drinks to make, and maintenance to do. You were always busy, but you loved your job.

You had spent a lot of time curating the perfect atmosphere for your beloved customers. The lighting was warm, with fairy lights and lanterns dangling from the ceiling. There was wooden furniture and two old couches that sat by the glass windows. The tiny space smelled of freshly brewed coffee and sweet bread. The cafe was always inviting.

You had many regulars at the coffee shop, each one with their own story, a different purpose.

For the past six months, twice a week, every Thursday and Saturday morning, a tall man walked in. Jason, you recalled his name from the many times you prepared his drinks. He’d order the same thing every time, a small London fog and a walnut banana bread.

He’d sit at the table nearest to the entrance, his back never towards the door.

Every morning, he’d come in with a new book. You had seen him read Franz Kafka, Oscar Wilde and Jane Austen; he’d read a lot of Austen.

He was a mystery and you wanted to know more.

You found Jason quite handsome. His skin was scattered with scars and you often found yourself staring at the permanent wound near his lips. You wanted to run your fingers along it, to trace it, to kiss it.

His eyes were always kind, a deep shade of green, forest-like you’d think to yourself.

He spoke with kindness. His voice velvety and rich, much like the espresso you’d brew everyday, except his voice was never bitter, almost always doused with honey.

Sometimes you’d catch him looking over at the counter, at you, you’d hoped.

Your coworkers were afraid of him, telling you to stay away, but you couldn’t help yourself. He was like an enticing book, waiting to be read. They’d warn you, “do not engage in too much conversation with the strange man.” But it was as if they were talking to a small child, their words would go in one ear and out the other.

“Strange,” you would never use that word to describe him.

From the small talk you had with him, to his choice in books, to even his taste in tea, you’d never describe him as strange.

Gentle was the word you’d choose.

He was huge, all height and muscle, terrifying to most, however to you, he was everything but that. You saw an angel and you didn’t even know him… yet, you’d tell yourself.

There were days, where you almost gained the courage to ask for his number, maybe ask for small detail, perhaps get a glimpse of his life. But each attempt was futile. Why was it so hard to speak to him for more than five minutes, you’d curse your inability to speak to attractive men.

You were beginning to give up on your dreams of getting to know the beautiful stranger, when he walked in through door.

The conversation began as per usual.

“Morning Jason, what can I grab you today,” you asked politely. He smiled softly in return and you stare at the scar by his lip as he begins to speak.

“Uhh surprise me,” you look at him confused, he’s never done that before and he finds himself smiling harder. “Just kidding, I’ll just the take the usual please,” he says as he places his copy of Jane Eyre on the counter to take out his wallet.

“Brontë, why am I not surprised,” you reply, gazing at the book. You take the cash from his hands and your heart drops. Shades of purple and crimson coat his skin. They’re bruised, again.

“What can I say, I’m a man of taste,” he smirks. You roll your eyes and giggle.

“Now who told you that,” and he shrugs. Then there’s a lull, you don’t know what to say now. It isn’t awkward, but you find yourself starting feeling a little uneasy. God, if you only you could come up with something else to say. You shake your head slightly and begin to warm up his banana bread.

You turn around and wait for him to leave, but he doesn’t walk away to his usual table this time, instead he takes a seat next to the counter. Odd, you thought.

Jason’s gaze doesn’t leave you for a second, he watches you in admiration, you don’t quite catch on.

If you thought Jason was handsome, then he thought you belonged in a museum. You were a work of art in his eyes. The kind of beauty they wrote poetry about. Absolutely stunning.

He wanted to get to know you, speak to you, but he was afraid. If you didn’t reciprocate his feelings, then he may never be able to see you again. The trips to the cafe would no longer be necessary and he wouldn’t know what to do with himself.

However today, Jason pushes his fears aside, he feels bold. He finds his confidence and he speaks.

“Do you read much,” he asks suddenly. You place his cup of tea and bread in front of him, and nod your head.

“I do, but not what you read,” you reply and he stares into your eyes, curious. “I mostly read magazines, you know Vogue and stuff,” his smile drops a little, he’s trying really hard to not look judgemental. Cute, you think. “Kidding, I read fantasy mostly,” and his face lights up again.

“So like J.K. Rowling,” he questions.

“No, Harry Potter’s good, but I’m not really a fan of her, you know as a person. I’ve been reading a lot Neil Gaiman recently though,” you say.

“Oh fuck, yeah, she’s said some pretty crazy stuff huh,” and you nod again. “Gaiman though, I don’t think I’ve ever read his stuff before, he any good,” he asks and your eyes go wide, you’re excited.

You spend the next hour of his visit speaking to him about books, about the things that you both like.

You only part from the conversation when there was a customer.

You’ve never felt this way before, all the assumptions you made about him were true. He was an angel, a kind and gentle one.

A month goes by and you notice your relationship with Jason change. Now, instead of sitting by the entrance of the cafe, he sits near you, back against the door. A sign of trust, you assumed. He smiled more, he showed his teeth and he laughed, hard. You loved the sound of his laugh. His eyes looked brighter, greener, emerald-like. He still walked in with a new book, but when the conversation began, it was long forgotten.

You watched his bruises heal and you watched new ones appear, you were always curious, but never had the courage to ask. He’d tell you when he was ready.

As time went by, you found yourself wanting to do something for him, you wanted him to know that you cared. You thought that if your words were going to fail you, then maybe your actions would prove otherwise.

Working a closing shift at the cafe on a gloomy Tuesday evening, you find yourself thinking of different gestures you could do.

Ideas came and left, nothing felt good enough. He deserved the best. Trying to busy your mind elsewhere, you begin to sweep the floors and that’s when inspiration hits you.

There, in the coffee shop, lies an empty corner. An odd spot, not necessarily small, but also not large enough either.

A perfect fit for a decently sized bookshelf. A library, for the community, but most importantly for Jason. You smile to yourself, proud at the thought. He’d love this, you knew he would.

The next morning you find yourself drilling holes into the pale walls of the cafe, trying attach the large shelf you lugged down to the shop.

Once everything was fixed into its rightful place, you begin adding the books, by genre and then by the authors’ last names. You add many of Jason’s favourites, multiple copies of Austen. You add children’s books, comics and something for yourself.

The shelf fits right into the ambiance of the cafe, elevating it honestly. The corner looked cosy and you found yourself wanting to sit by one of the couches with a book and a cup of hot chocolate.

You stare at the shelf once more, proud. Now, you just had to wait.

Jason walks into the cafe the next day, he’s late. He arrives near closing time. It’s just you and him in the cafe, most of your staff left for the day and not many people stayed this late. It’s quiet, the only sound coming from the machines on your side of the counter. He’s holding another book in his hand, but he has no intention of reading tonight.

His hair is slicked back, and there’s a small cut on his forehead. He’s dressed in a white dress shirt and black pants. He looks like he’s coming back from a big event or maybe he’s going to one later. Either way, he looks pretty like this, his arms look more defined and you can make out the muscles on his back when he walks around the room, waiting for his drink.

His eyes wander around the cafe before settling on the bookshelf nestled in the odd corner. His eyes soften, he’s never noticed that before, it must be new, he thinks.

“When’d you get this,” he asks, his fingers running along the spines of the books. He’s smiling, there’s so many books.

“Yesterday, it’s for you,” you say, holding your breath. This is it, the moment you’ve been preparing for.

“For me,” he looks over at you as you settle his tea on the counter. You begin walking over to his side, slowly, riddled with nerves.

“Yes, since you’re always here, I thought you’d like having a book shelf here. It’s like a library, you take a book and then you-“ he cuts you off suddenly.

“You made a library for me in your cafe, are you serious,” he’s trying to hold back a smile, you can tell. His scar gets more prominent when he does that. “Why,” he as asks, his voice is soft, it feels like warm milk with honey, comforting.

“You’re gonna make me say it,” you can’t see your face, but it feels hot, you can tell you’re blushing.

“Yeah, say it. Why is there a library in your cafe for me,” he says, enunciating the words “your” and “for me.” He’s smirking now. He knows the answer, he just wants to hear it from you.

The point of the library was to not have to say anything, for your actions to speak for you, but here you are. Ears burning and palms clammy.

“I…,” you trail off, you look around the room, anywhere but his face. He notices and walks closer, his hands gently make their way around your waist.

“Say it,” he exclaims, it’s not forceful, he’s smiling and shades of pink dust his cheeks.

You close your eyes shut, fuck, you’re going to have to say it.

“I really like you jas-,” and with that, his lips find their way to your own. You move in harmony, much like matcha and oat milk. His lips are sweet, he tastes like the banana bread, he decided to eat while pacing around the cafe. Your hands find their way to his shoulders, you pull back and smile. You peck his lips. Once where the scar is and once more on the centre. He grins.

“You don’t know how long I’ve waited to hear that from you,” he mumbles against your lips, waiting for you to kiss him again.

And you do, you kiss him again and again.

#gn!reader #jason todd #red hood #jason todd imagine #red hood imagine #jason todd x reader #red hood x reader #jason todd headcanon #red hood headcanon #batfam

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euthymiya · 26 days

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society of brilliance ft. veritas ratio

in which you come home and soothe veritas and his insecurities in a shared bath—which consists of you making a society just for the two of you. luckily, it’s more than enough to ease his troubled mind

contains: gender neutral reader ; non sexual nudity ; shared baths ; slight references to veritas character story iii ; reverse comfort ; veritas is not taking his lack of invitation to genius society lightly :( ; i invite you all to join my nous hate club

veritas doesn’t greet you when you come home. you’d be disappointed any other time, but the glow of light under the cracks through the bathroom door tells you precisely why he’s not there to greet you—you can’t help but be endeared.

so you pad into the bathroom, grinning softly as his head lifts from resting against the edge of the bathtub, eyes opening to glance over your figure.

they brighten a bit when they take in the view of you.

“no book?” you raise a brow, mildly shocked.

“is it hard to believe i’d like to relax without reading?” he closes his eyes again, relaxing once more as he listens to you shed your clothing.

“well, i suppose not,” you chuckle, “but you’re a bit…”

“go on,” he presses dryly, “finish your thought.”

“a bit uptight. i don’t know if you can relax without reading something or another.”

it’s cheeky, the way you bite your lip and suppress a grin, watching as he rolls his eyes (but he could never hope to hide the fondness in them, even if he tried). you reach over one the last of your clothes drop to the floor, hand cupping his cheek as he sighs and melts into your palm.

“well, i certainly won’t be relaxing now that your presence is here to disrupt my peace,” he quips, letting a smug grin of his own stretch over his cheeks as you huff.

“long day?” you murmur, tracing your thumb along his skin soothingly as he hums, pressing closer into your touch, “it must be if you couldn’t wait long enough to greet me.”

“my apologies darling,” he says quietly. you frown a little, tracing the darkening circles under his eyes as your thumb travels higher across his face. “i’m afraid my mind was a bit occupied.”

“oh veritas.”

it’s delicate, the way you say his name. fragile, like he’s one moment from sinking into the water from the weight of his mind, unable to resurface for a breath of air. veritas has been different since accepting the invitation from the ipc—a bit more defeated, perhaps. a lot more distracted.

you pull your hand away, much to his displeasure, waving it to gesture him forward in the tub as he looks at you with creases building in his forehead.

“but—”

“don’t argue for once, you difficult man,” you scold, “just do as i say.”

“how commanding,” comes his reply in a half-hearted scoff. he listens nonetheless, inching forward so you can sit yourself behind him, sinking into the warm water as you collect him in your arms and pull him to lean against your chest.

he relaxes instantly. more than he could before your arrival, like the presence of you makes breathing easier, more simple. in and out, inhale and exhale. his chest rises and falls under your hand, slow circles smoothing over the firm muscle as his head falls back against your shoulder.

veritas doesn’t let you hold him often—he prefers the weight of you in his arms, but sometimes it’s nice when you take on his weight, too. when his mind is heavy and loaded with the endless thoughts of his. and you like it too, the feeling of him pressing into you, the feeling of him settled into your hold as you keep him afloat.

you break the silence first, pressing a kiss into his head as you whisper, “care to enlighten me what’s going on in that head of yours?”

“are you sure you can handle it? i have a rather advanced thought process,” he teases.

“i’d say your mind is regressed,” you snort, squeezing the rubber duck floating in the water a small distance away.

you can practically see his pout even if it’s not in your line of sight as he clicks his teeth and says in an offended tone, “being intelligent doesn’t mean i have to deny myself of a few simple joys.”

“aren’t i the only joy you need?” you bat your lashes, kissing the back of his neck as he chuckles.

“i suppose you are sufficient enough, yes.”

“just sufficient?” you gasp, biting his shoulder playfully as he shakes against you with soft laughter. “if you don’t love me, just say that.”

“there you go again,” he hums in amusement, shaking his head as he tilts his head and eyes you with an endeared glint in his eyes, “always so theatric over the most trivial of causes.”

“someone has to keep things interesting. your idea of fun is picking apart a student’s thesis.”

“i enable them to grow,” he corrects, thoroughly unimpressed as he purses his lips and gives you a dry look. “it’s a favor, really.”

“i don’t know what to do with you. too smart for your own good.”

he sighs, slumping against your figure as he quietly mumbles, “perhaps not smart enough.”

you frown, the edges of your mouth curling in an unhappy twist downwards as you process his words. veritas is undoubtedly brilliant—you’d never thought he’d question the fact. of course, he’s tried time and time again to catch the gaze of nous, and of course, you’ve always known there’s a lingering air of self deprecation at his lack of success.

but you never thought him to doubt himself—not of his capabilities, not of his brilliance. his brilliance is the most beautiful thing about him, you think. he’s so quick to understand things—like how to figure you out like it’s easy and simple. how to love you in ways you didn’t even know you want to be loved. how to read you before you understand your own mind.

he’s so bright, so willing to share his light so you can glow too, unwilling to see you as a mere dimness beside him.

you tighten your arms around him, nuzzling your nose into his cheek as you press sweet, feathery kisses to his skin.

“if you consider yourself not smart enough, i fear for what you think of my intelligence.”

“i think you’re brilliant,” he says instantly, “there’s no doubt.”

“then why doubt yourself?”

he’s silent. you know the answer, even if he doesn’t want to say it. because if not smart enough to be acknowledged by the aeon he’s dedicated his aspirations to, the aeon that stands to represent the very purpose of his existence, the aeon that signifies the embodiment of wisdom itself—how can he consider himself enough?

how can you consider him enough? he wants to ask, but the words never form on his tongue, caught in his throat in a lump he can’t even swallow down. it’s stuck, persistently lodged and silencing him as he lays limply in your arms.

“oh, veritas,” you say with so much gentleness, he sighs shakily at the sound of his name from your tongue. so sweet, so pleasant—like it’s dipped his honey from the comb. “you are far too capable for it to be a cause for question.”

“am i?” he chuckles dryly, lips tugging ruefully into a painful smile, “perhaps i’d have reached my goals then, wouldn’t i?”

“perhaps it’s not your intelligence that separates you from the genius society,” you murmur thoughtfully, combing wet fingers through his hair, scratching tenderly at his scalp as he shivers at your touch.

“then, pray tell, what would it be, darling?” he asks, indulging you.

“your compassion, maybe. you’re of the few geniuses that don’t forget what it means to be human. i don’t think a machine declared as the face of intelligence has the capacity to understand that.”

“you shouldn’t speak of the divine like that,” he snorts.

“nobody is as divine as me,” you reply with a giggle, earning a tender squeeze at your thigh as he smiles at you with a roll of his eyes.

“is that so?”

“you don’t agree?”

he turns, kissing the pout off of your lips as he whispers, “oh, i do. i certainly do—you’re of the most divinest of beings in all of the cosmos. a truly magnificent…piece of work.”

“i’ll ignore that last part just for today,” you say pointedly. you peck his lips again, and again, and when he settles deeper into your chest, relaxing against your body, you tighten your hold around him. “but i hereby declare you an honorary member of the society of brilliance—”

he cuts you off with a short. you whine, slapping his arm in protest as he stifles his laughs.

“and just how many members are in this society?”

“currently two,” you glare, “but it’s at risk of becoming one if you mock it any further. it’s a very serious organization.”

“sorry, sorry. it won’t happen again,” he poorly fights back a grin. (and he could never hope to successfully hide a smile around your presence, he’s sure such a feat is impossible. you write joy on his features as easy as pen on paper).

“it better not. this society is far more sophisticated than that child’s play of an organization…society for geniuses, was it?”

“genius society,” he correct, playing along.

“oh yes,” you nod, pretending to snap in recognition, “that’s the one. such an undignified group of individuals. a shame—they had potential. it’s a good thing we’re not like them.”

“a relief indeed,” he smiles.

it’s so raw, so real, so pure, he can’t help but twist in your arms and press his lips to you, hoping to physically share the joy of you evident in the curl of his mouth. the dimple in his cheek. the crinkles of his eyes.

you’ve written yourself into every part of him, so seamlessly intwined with his body and mind, it’s difficult to doubt himself. because to doubt himself is to doubt you, and veritas could never hope to doubt you. not when you’re so divine, so bright and beautiful, so precious.

a wonder to society.

he’s lucky to be acknowledged by such brilliance.

“you’re the most capable man i know,” you whisper against his lips. he hums in satisfaction as you peck them gently before adding, “i have very high standards, you know.”

“i’m relieved i’ve met them. my greatest achievement to date.”

“i’m glad you’re wise enough to realize as such.”

“is my spot in your exclusive society secured then?”

“hmm. i’ll think about it—you’re still on thin ice.”

if nous has 0 haters im dead. anyway. veritas, i love you i love you i love you i love you i love you i love you. did i mention i love you

let my man into genius society!!!! he belongs there more than anyone else!!!!! actually tbh he’s too good for that group of ppl (i say this but ruan mei is my gf sorry queen ur the exception)

#writing tag #dr ratio x reader #dr ratio x you #dr ratio fluff #veritas ratio x reader #veritas ratio x you #veritas ratio fluff #veritas x reader #veritas x you #veritas fluff #hsr x reader #hsr x you #hsr fluff #honkai star rail x reader #honkai star rail x you #honkai star rail fluff

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reikissu · 2 months

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❥･• kaedehara kazuha and wanderer dating hcs.

a/n: might be ooc, i’ll try my best to edit it and make it more accurate to their character huhu

ꔛ genre: fluff, romance

ꔛ reader: gender neutral

ꔛ warnings: corny stuff, cursing

my, you're a lucky one to be the paramour of kaedehara kazuha.. because life is about to change.

he's swift as the wind, with just his way of words and voice.. he can make you turn flustered in a matter of minutes.

with just a call, you feel as if you're on cloud 9.

"dearest, may you come here?" "huh? uh sure...! (⌯❛௦❛⌯)" then he asks why your cheeks are red HAHA

his petnames for you are like a sweet flavor to his tongue, calling you out by using his petnames makes him feel warm.

he calls you dearest, dear and love. they vary in different days when he chooses one.

his love language is definitely gifts and physical touch, he loves writing poems and giving it to you, since you are his inspiration of the poems he gives to you.

and they turn out to be so romantic that you start giggling while reading it, after all.. it is all about you and he wrote it full-heartedly.

everytime it’s autumn, he would bring you to a cliff where the trees are in view, sitting next to you as you both behold the sight of the maple leaves flowing along with the wind.

he would take one leaf and put it behind your ear as an accessory, "you look beautiful, my love." he says as he gives a soft smile. 🤭

as i also mentioned, his other love language is physical touch. he likes to feel your soft skin against his, he'll kiss you, hug you, hold your hand.. anything that’s comfortable with you.

on certain occasions he would hold your hand, whenever you both are alone of course.. wouldn’t want anyone prying on your moments with kazuha, no?

he would share his experiences when he traveled with beidou or by himself, it would always have interesting events happening in them. so it’s very entertaining to listen to.

HE DEF KNOWS HOW TO SEW, because i hc that when tomo had rips on his clothes, kazuha would fix them. so kazuha would gift you handmade clothes, handkerchiefs, scarfs… you name it, and it will always be in your favorite color. “Ah, shit! My sleeve ripped!” “Mm? Oh, give me the top you’re currently wearing tomorrow, i will fix it.” “You know how to sew?” “Yes, my dear.” “Aw, thank you..” “You’re welcome :)”

sometimes when you both are in the mood to hangout on the ship, Captain Beidou always teases you both “Hey, hey.. no one told me the lovebirds would board the ship!” “Captain beidou…” you and the other crew mates just laugh it off.

you and Beidou would talk about Kazuha and tell stories, and she had one piece of advice for you. “Just come to me if Kazuha hurts you or did something wrong, i’ll teach that kid a lesson.” “Is that a threat, captain?” you laugh, kazuha mutters under his breath, leaning on the wall of the ship "Why would i ever do that to them.."

all jokes aside, having kazuha in your life is a blessing from the gods that you can never thank them enough for.

at first, wanderer wasn’t the sweetest boyfriend. But after learning about relationships and love.. he started showing how much he loves you.

after he regained his memories, he was back to his old, sassy and arrogant self. But that didn’t stop him from being soft around you.

in public, he’s the biggest asshole you’ll ever meet istg, but when alone with you, he just suddenly melts into your touch.

he’d let you play with his hair, cuddle with him or more. you’re one of the people he trusts and loves, so he doesn’t mind it. he likes being pampered and pampering you.

he doesn’t have a petname for you, he just calls you by your name. but if he’s feeling nice enough, he’ll call you babe.

“Babe, can you-“ “Huh? What did you call me? 🤩” “..Babe. Are you deaf?” “OH MY GOSH 🥹” then he’d just stare at you like “what’s so shocking about that?” HAHAHAHAHA

his love language would mainly be physical touch, but in my opinion his love languages would be all, depending on his mood.

he would make fun of you sometimes, if you trip he’d definitely laugh his ass off but will help you stand up, if you accidentally say something that is SO stupid he’ll literally never shut up about it.

he would try food or things that you like, so he’d understand your preferences. But if you like sweets, he’d have a hard time with it. he’d spend an hour just trying to swallow it, he hates it.

“What’s wrong? Do you not like dango?” “….No. I like dango.” (He’s about to puke.)

wanderer wasn’t very good at showing his love through physical touch, but he would give you soft yet quick kisses, it’s like cotton grazing on your lips. after a while, he would be able to kiss you more confidently without any hesitation in private.

he is slightly showy in public, just subtle hand and waist holding as you two walk through sumeru, eat somewhere, or do any activities outside. like stargazing, watching a play etc.

whenever he would see you eyeing something you want, he would click his tongue and say “Tsk, buy it yourself.” then later night he’s holding a bag with the item/food you wanted earlier… “Hm? Isn’t that the food/thing i wanted?” “…Yeah.” “I thought you told me to buy it myself?” “Shut up, i changed my mind.” (he will get absolutely pissed off and flustered if you tease him about it 😭)

he would help you in any way he can, cooking, laundry, blahblahblah. just anything, so he could take the weight off your shoulders. you’re a hardworking person in his eyes, and he admires that, and he’s willing to be one with you.

he would surprisingly like cuddling, but not the one with those type of cuddling where it turns into some steamy stuff. i have a gut feeling he would love chill and tender moments with you, like talking about past experiences and laughing together, watching a movie together, etc. he loves seeing you smile and laugh, it makes him feel warm inside.

would kill for you, if anyone tries to harm you, they’ll be buried 6 feet under for that. even though he acts hard to get, he loves and cares for you a lot. he does not give a single shit if you’re bigger and taller than him, he knows he’s capable of protecting you.

overall, his life with you is the happiest one he has ever had. wanderer loves you with all his heart.

#kazuha kaedehara #scaramouche fluff #wanderer fluff #kaedahara kazuha #kaedahara kazuha x reader #kazuha kaedahara x reader #kaedehara kazuha fluff #wanderer x reader #scaramouche x reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact fluff #kazuha x reader #kazuha fluff #scaramouche scenarios #wanderer scenarios #genshin impact scenarios #kazuha scenarios #kazuha kaedehara scenarios #kaedehara kazuha scenarios

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vivinens · 10 months

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a lover's game !

characters: neuvillette, wriothesley & navia.

summary: little things they notice about you.

warning, minor fontaine story spoilers. gender neutral reader. here's a few short drabbles, hello tumblr!

Neuvillette, while famously intrigued by human behavior, often finds himself completely fascinated with you in particular.

For all his objective understanding of worldly matters, he is still confused as to why he specifically craves your attention. It's utterly strange, really, how his eyes seem to trail after your movements and expressions with more care than he would show to others.

You smile differently, when speaking to him. He's picked up on this after numerous conversations involving you two and a third party. When speaking to Monsieur Neuvillette (he often wonders about the soft way you say his name), your tone is easy and your smile is—for lack of a more appropriate word—entrancing. But, the moment your attention turns to the third party, that smile is dimmed.

At first, he simply chalks it up to you wanting to get in his good graces. After all, he's had no shortage of humans attempting to get close to him in order to satisfy their own desires. However, even with his lackluster social skills, he can see how your behavior is different from the people trying to appeal to them for their own merit. Your flustered sentences and bright eyes were not the same as others using flattery to gain status among the court staff.

...Perhaps he should ask Navia about it. Not for the first time, he curses his own lack of social understanding.

Wriothesley is not usually the kind of man who finds himself hung up on trivial details. He spends too much time working and worrying as it is; so why should he make life more complicated for himself?

There were some things he can't help but notice when it comes to you, though. It's midday when he overhears you mumbling to yourself about a new treat from Café Lucerne you'd like to try—as well as something about you having already spent all your "fun mora" for the week. You had sighed to yourself at your own respective desk all afternoon, and the sheer longing he could sense made his eye twitch.

You arrived to your work desk the next morning to see a wrapped gift box atop it. You had gasped when you opened it to reveal the outrageously expensive cake you had been craving all week. Wriothesley couldn't stay to further see your reaction, as to not raise suspicion, but he was content nonetheless.

It was when he arrived at work the next day that he realized—after seeing a steaming hot cup of coffee set on his desk beside a signed thank you note—that you're more observant than you let on. After all, he had taken great care in not letting it be known he was the one who gifted you the cake.

He takes a sip of the coffee. It was the way he likes it. Yes, you were very observant, indeed.

Navia has always had a soft spot for her underlings. She remembers their birthdays, their favorite songs, and those who they would prefer to work alongside. She claims it's her duty as their boss to know such things—although, in the opinion of many, she often goes above and beyond.

However, if you were to ask any of Navia's other subordinates, they would probably say she tries to understand you best of all. You have known one another for a long time, and this friendship was something she held very dearly—especially after the passing of her father. You were a beacon of light in those times, when the world seemed against her and her father's memory.

In some ways, she wondered if she was... taking advantage. You worked hard to support her and Spina di Rosula, and earned hardly nothing in return. Pay was rocky and sometimes even scarce. What if your talents could be better used elsewhere? What if you truly did want to leave? What if—

"You're overthinking again, Navia," you sigh, and before she can even think to respond, your hand is reaching to feel her forehead. You're sat beside one another on a bench, taking a small reprieve after a day spent out and about Vasari Passage. "Hm, I'm surprised you don't have a fever. You've been acting strange all day," you say, tilting your head. "You would tell me if something was wrong, wouldn't you?"

The genuine worry in your voice makes Navia's heart flutter. "No, no, nothing at all!" She exclaims with more confidence than she feels. She seems to be doing that a lot lately. "But... thank you, for worrying about me. You shouldn't have to."

You frown. "I care for you—perhaps more than you understand, Navia. You don't have to speak about it now, but if something is troubling you, I will always lend you an ear."

Sometimes, Navia finds you truly are too understanding of her emotions. Instead of responding, she nods wordlessly, lest the things she wants to say so desperately clog her throat, and reaches to rest her hand against yours. You don't pull away, and the loud hammering of Navia's heart continues in her chest. It does not stop for a long while.

#neuvillette x reader #wriothesley x reader #navia x reader #genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin fluff #genshin imagines #💬 vivi is typing

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zombie-eats-world · 8 months

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Crocodad Theory: The not-so-Crack-pot Theory.

Making this post in order to replace my old Crocodad thesis since I think I can do better now. Plus I was still using the old theory name then and I dislike seeing it pinned on my tumblr now. You can find that older post HERE if you desire to!

Crocodad theory, chances are you have heard about this theory if you are even slightly invested in the One Piece fandom. But despite its infamy, and outside its stanch believers like myself, it's mostly considered a crack theory and used for a laugh.

Now let's be clear, Crocodad theory is not a crack theory. A crack or crack-pot theory is more of a headcanon built on vibes, it's a fun idea made up out of thin air and isn't really serious. If the Crocodad theory was a crack theory it would have evaporated into the nether by now. It's over a decade old, after all, and yet it persists to this day! That is because the Crocodad theory has real evidence from the canon, the One Piece offshoots, and maybe even Oda himself.

If you weren't aware of the Crocodad theory, sometimes lovingly called Dadodile, let me summarize it very succinctly. The theory is that Crocodile is a transgender man and gave birth to Luffy. Crocodile is Luffy's other father and his birthing parent. If you think that sounds ridiculous or even hilarious, let me walk you through it because I assure you- that is intentional.

Let us begin where the theory began... Impel Down.

The possibility for this theory was born in 2009 with these panels:

The simple fact that Ivankov exists and that he knows Crocodile, from "when he was just starting out" mind you, makes this not only possible but probable.

What other "secret" could Ivakov be speaking of here? It's definitely not his weakness to water, that would just be bad storytelling. It could be that Crocodile is the child of Rocks which is possible considering we now know Ivankov was at the Gods Valley incident. But if I could speak as a writer for a moment, it would really be a waste for an author to introduce a character that can change genders and then bring back one of the first big villains like Crocodile, AND THEN connect the two with the mention of weakness but not make that secret that Crocodile had once been a woman. Or even at least a part of the reason.

But if that reasoning falls through for you, here is some in-canon evidence for the idea that Crocodile is transgender:

First of all, the agents' code names are so gendered: Every single digit agent is Mr with a Mrs, or Ms partner.

Crocodile’s name. His moniker is different from almost every other powerful pirate the story introduces to us. He isn’t just Desert King Crocodile, he is Desert King Sir Crocodile. Again it is oddly pronoun-centered. As if he is trying to remind people that he’s a guy.

The introduction of Bon Clay. Bon Clay is our first canon queer character in One Piece. He makes mention of being a girl many times and feels like a joke character when we first meet him. But as we know in One Piece, a pirate crew is a reflection of the Captain. Crocodile isn’t prejudiced to queer people like Bon Clay alludes to others being a few times. Crocodile even allowed Bon Clay to be both the male and female of his team!

Next up was the reveal of Baby Crocodile and how it’s deliberating ambiguous what gender Crocodile is. In every other Warlord's childhood look reveal, their gender is obvious, so why was Crocodile left out of that?

Then of course we have Gold Roger's execution, and how almost everyone got a reaction panel. But not Crocodile. No, we only see the back of his head. Oda has shown that he loves to get every single character's reaction to major events, sometimes to a fault. So why is he trying so hard to hide Crocodile from us? It just isn’t Oda’s style to leave someone out unless there is some kind of secret he wants to build up too. Now be sure to keep this in mind for later.

Last but certainly not least is just how much of an absolute troll Oda is. This will not be the last time I bring this up, Oda is a HUGE troll. He loves to play to his favorite fan theories and he decides most everything on how funny it is. And wouldn't it be funny if the first antagonist in the Grandline was secretly the birth parent of Luffy?

I mean just look at this! Oda, you absolute troll.

Bottom line: Trans Crocodile is more likely than not.

But this is where a lot of people decide the rest of this theory is crack, they take Trans!Crocodile and leave Crocodad out for reasons I honestly can't understand. Despite that, Cracodad has just as much if not more evidence than the Transgender part of this theory.

Before I begin I would like everyone reading to keep a few things in mind. All throughout the Impel down arc and the journey to Marineford, and even the first few chapters into Marineford, Crocodile could not have given a shit about Luffy, Ace, or the war at all. He did not care who won the war or if everyone involved died. He came to the battlefield for the sole purpose of killing Whitebeard. PERIOD. He was never once shown reacting with any concern when Luffy began facing down anyone strong. Not even Magellan. Crocodile had been around Luffy, seeing him do inspiring things for a massive amount of chapters by the time we get to Marineford, and yet Crocodile literally didn't care if Luffy lived or died, he just wanted to fight Whitebeard.

With that clear let's move on to what happened after Luffy's father was revealed to the world in Marineford. This moment is where the most obvious evidence first came about:

When Sengoku announces Luffy's father to the world we get many reaction shots, but once again Crocodile is conveniently missing from the lineup. He even disappears for a whole chapter! The young man who took down his decade-long plan to take over Alabasta just got announced to be the most wanted man in the world son, and we get no reaction from Crocodile... its suspicious.

Crocodile stopped Ace’s execution: Now Crocodile explains this by saying he ‘didn’t want to let Sengoku have the pleasure of victory’ but seriously? What kind of petty ass BS reasoning is that?! Crocodile has dreams and ambitions, and yet he gives up trying to be the one to take down Whitebeard to randomly save someone he canonly mocks in Impel Down? Someone he doesn’t care about. Some people will tell you it’s because Luffy inspired him like Luffy does many others, but what exactly is Luffy doing in Marineford that he didn’t in Impel Down or even Alabasta? Nothing. That means Crocodile has an entire about-face for no believable reason while completely off-screen. Which we've already said isn't Oda's style.

Daz and Crocodile face Mihawk to help Luffy: When Daz blocks Mihawk’s strike, Luffy questions it. Daz answers: It’s an order from above! That means Crocodile ordered Daz to specifically protect Luffy. Again, why? What reason did he have to do that? If this was some latent Crocodile has been inspired™️ moment, why wouldn’t Oda show it? Oda loves to hype up those moments, and loves to detail it all to the smallest piece. But Crocodile just randomly decided to have his main man Daz look out for this person that he COULDN’T HAVE GIVEN A CRAP ABOUT JUST TEN EPISODES BEFORE does not fit within the story. Then, right after Daz blocks Mihawk, Crocodile appears out of the woodwork to block another attack.

When Mihawk questions why he’d protect Luffy, Crocodile’s only response is “I’m not in the best mood now, Mihawk, you better watch yourself.” It’s interesting that he has no reason, none, he just comments that he’s in a shit mood. Maybe because he just found out he once stabbed his own child in the gut and left him to die?!

Crocodile vs Akainu: The brother killing Lava Man™️ is probably the most dangerous person in the war. He has no mercy, no morals, no restraint. So the fact that as Luffy is lying comatose and weak, with Jimbe slumped over him, Akainu about to deliver the final blow, Crocodile coming out of nowhere once again is so telling.

The fact is: Crocodile went above and beyond to save Luffy. That final stand against Akainu is so powerful. Crocodile doesn’t just save Luffy, he rushes to Luffy's aid, slicing through Akainu and reassembles to stand protectively between them. He did not need to do this at all. Oda didn’t need to have him do this either!

There were plenty of other characters that could have essentially done the same exact thing, but Oda chose to have Crocodile, someone who shouldn’t have been on Luffy’s side at all, save his life in the final moment.

Lastly, without a word, Crocodile uses Sables to get Luffy to Law’s ship. He risked his life, faced down the one person who could kill him without a second thought, and sweeps Luffy away to safety without any stated reason at all. In fact, everything he says is deliberately vague. Crocodile doesn’t believe in loyalty, he dumps people if they are weak (see; Alabasta Crocodile vs Luffy desert fight) so his line of “you gotta protect the one you wanna protect! Don’t let them have their way!” Feels so out of character. Crocodile has to have a reason for this odd behavior. And no, it doesn’t end there! In the defense of Luffy, Crocodile has an awesome and powerful moment where he stands in unity with all the Whitebeard commanders. HIS ENEMIES. Crocodile stands in unity with the people, he himself stated he hated more than anything, for Luffy!

These are the moments that alerted people to what would soon be called the Crocomom theory, now called Crocodad. But just because it began there doesn't mean there wasn't foreshadowing from before Marineford.

Let's go over all of that now:

First to talk about is once again Crocodile's crew. Miss Father's Day debuted in episode 124 of the anime and chapter 205 of the manga. She has a green amphibian theme to her, which is interesting because she is a woman with the moniker Father's Day while also having a theme of an animal that is famous for being able to change its gender. Her debut episode even has her introduced along with the reveal that Luffy's using his blood to fight Crocodile.

The next point is something Oda has never explained. Crocodile has strange relationships with children. From hiring a sixteen-year-old Miss Goldenweek, leaving her out of the Mr. 3 assassination order, and her history of actually sinking Crocodile's ships before getting hired, all the way to how Crocodile lectured Luffy in their fight. It just had the cadence of a parent. Not even Luffy's parent, just a parent. He lectures like someone who has experience with children.

Next, Luffy does not look like Dragon. That is a direct quote from Luffy in the manga. But you know who he does look like?

That's right! Luffy looks a lot like Crocodile. If you need more convincing on this, there is a great post by Dashevacotton that puts together many of the best canon pictures of Luffy dressed up like Crocodile. That post is here!

Crocodile and Luffy are incredibly similar. Not just in looks, but in personality, and in their general life.

These two have so much in common. From having a way with animals, to the amount of unadulterated loyalty they've inspired in their crews, all the way to the cadence of their speech.

Crocodile and Luffy even have a similarly goofy reaction to seeing the underground passage to the Alabasta Poneglyph.

Episode 123, episode time 13:16 Crocodile spots the entrance and laughs, "Ha, now I see secret stairs." Also in episode 123, episode time 20:47 Luffy looks around and spots the secret stairs. "That hole... it looks gator-ish."

Even what we know of Crocodile's backstory is that he had a rapid rise to fame just like Luffy by being a rookie who came in and beat down non-canon characters like Douglas Bullet to the shock of the world.

Next, let's bring up an earlier point: Oda-sensei is a mega troll.

This isn't exactly new information, Oda once deflected to bringing up a dick fight instead of answering if Zoro or Sanji was stronger. He is a Troll. He loves wordplay, and he likes to hint hint nudge nudge us all day long. Just look at Oda having Sanji call himself a prince in Alabasta as a joke, only to realize years later that he actually was a prince.

It's because of Oda's tendency to play around and make knowing jokes we've gotten some pretty compelling evidence for the Crocodad theory.

First would be the wordplay!

-Crocodile is closely linked to a Bananawani-> Monkeys like Banana -> Monkey D. Dragon is a reptilian Monkey attracted to Banana reptile. Fight me - A 'crocodile smile' is a term most often used to mean a fake or ingenuine smile. Crocodile's scar has been liked to look like a 'crocodile smile', which would mean Crocodile is the only character that always has a smile on his face. What a fun bit of wordplay to foreshadow the birth parent of Joyboy!

Then there is this SBS alongside the One Piece School spin-off manga by Sohei Koj.

What a great way to get out of revealing Luffy's parentage without actually revealing it!

And of course, we have the One Piece Mafia Theatre episode of the anime.

Oda would certainly make this canon just because of his troll tendencies. This is a hilarious theory because the story supports it yet only a fringe group believes in it. It's hilarious and therefore it's probably true.

Lastly, the symbolism makes this theory truly great.

I've already mentioned how Crocodile's scar being a 'crocodile smile' and thus giving him a permanent smile on his face would make him the most meaningful candidate for Luffy's birth parent. Joyboy, our Sun God Nika, was born from a man with a permanent fake smile; who is also named after an animal with the world's biggest smile.

It's just such a perfect setup, it makes my writer's heart swell.

Since Oda has stated a mother in One Piece would stop the adventure, it would fit that the first major villain in the Grandline to try and stop Luffy's adventure ended up being the man who gave birth to Luffy.

If we are going to speak of symbolism, I'd be remiss not to mention what a crocodile spiritually symbolizes. I really don't think I need to explain why adaptability, creation, ambiguity, and duality mean so much to this theory.

This theory could die or be confirmed any day now that we've entered a God's Valley flashback. I will love it either way but truly, honestly, I believe this. I hope I convinced a few of you to. If you are interested in the succinct list of Crocodad evidence that post is Here!

So in conclusion...

Crocodad is canon!

#one piece fandom #one piece #sir crocodile #anime #dadodile #monkey d luffy #fan theory #until the oda plops luffys mom in front of me i will believe this theory #theories #there is literally no other explanation for marineford without dadodile #luffy literally looks like crocodile #not a crack theory #long reads #long post

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rpgchoices · 5 months

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Useless rpgs recs. Videogames (not dating sims) where you play or you CAN play as a character who is wlw or mlm

Names and characters/explanations under cut (might contain minor spoilers):

Just a note, when I say romance I mean that there is actual story and plot related to it. Otehrwise for games like Fable or Skyrim (no romance) I will just write "Marry". For the romance games, a more detailed list of characters and romances can be found here.

Dragon Age Origins: You can romance Leliana (f) or Zevran (m) even with a character of their same gender

Dragon Age 2: You can romance all your companions (but Sebastian) indipendently from gender

Dragon Age Inquisition: You can romance Josephine (f) and Iron Bull (m) with any gender, and you can romance a lesbian character (Sera) or a gay character (Dorian)

Greedfall: You can romance Vasco (m) or Siora (f) with any gender

Dragon's Dogma: You can romance any character with any gender

Jade Empire: Sky (m) and Silk Fox (f) are romancable by any gender

Fable series: You can marry a character of your same gender

Skyrim: You can marry a character of your same gender

Enderal: You can romance Jasper (m) or Calia (f) as any gender

Pillars of Eternity: Deadfire: You can romance all your companions with any gender

Pendula Swing: The protagonist is canonically wlw, and you can romance male and female characetrs

Hero-U: The male protagonist can romance male characters too

Cyberpunk 2077: There are different flirts (female characters) that can be romanced by any gender, plus two full fledged romances a wlw and mlm one.

Expeditions: Viking: There is a female character (Roskva) and a male character (Ketill) who can be romanced by any gender.

Expeditions: Rome: There is a female character (Daianeira) and a male character (Caeso) who can be romanced by any gender.

Pathfinder Kingmaker: This game has multiple romances that can be romanced by characters of the same gender, mainly for wlw. Regongar is the one male character who can be romanced by any gender and also in a poly relationship with Octavia. Octavia, Kanerah, Kalikke, Nyrissa are the female characters romancable by any gender.

Pathfinder Wrath of the Righteous: Similar to Kingmaker, there are multiple characters romancable by male or female protagonists.

Rogue Trader: One male character and two female characters can be romanced by any gender.

Gamedec: Ken Zhou is the only romance option in game and can be romanced by any gender.#

Black Geyser: The romances are minimal, but there are multiple female and female characters romancable by any gender.

Always sometimes monsters (and sequel): you choose both the gender of the protagonist and the one of the romance.

Divinity Original Sin: If you play alone you control two characters who can end up in a romance (not fully written, almost subtle) indipendently from their gender.

Divinity Original Sin 2: All the companions can be romanced by any gender.

Disco Elysium: If you choose specific dialogue choices it is revealed that the protagonist (Harry) is attracted to men.

Baldur's Gate 1 and 2, enhanced edition: The enhanced edition adds Dorn and Hexxat who can be romanced by the same gender.

Baldur's Gate Siege of Dragonspear: Two romance options are not gender locked.

Baldur's Gate 3: All the companions are romancable by any gender, plus there are some more flirts/less developed romances.

Assassin's Creed Odyssey: Multiple characters through the game are not gender locked for romance.

Eternal Home Floristry: You play as a gay man.

80 Days: The protagonist (a man) is clearly in love with a man, you can also romance a male character.

The Technomancer: You play as a male character, one of your romance option is mlm.

Sorcery!: If you play as a male character you can still romance Flanker, who is also a man and is the one romance option in the game. If you play as a female character there are some dialogue choices that can establish your character as wlw.

Knight Bewitched: The protagonists are two women in love.

Dreamfall The Longest Journey: One of the protagonists (Kian) is a gay man.

Dreamfall Chapters: Kian and Saga are respectively a gay man and a pansexual woman.

Newfound Courage: The protagonist is a gay boy, but also the whole game is about being queer.

Haven: You play as a couple of lovers, who can be two women or two men.

Fallout 4: Some of the romance options are not gender locked.

Morrowind: There is a mod to romance (links of all mods here).

Solstice: Visual novel but not dating sim, you play as two characters and one of them is a gay man.

Mass Effect Trilogy: multiple companions (nb, f or m) can be romanced with any gender.

Mass Effect Andromeda: multiple companions can be romanced wtih any gender.

Hades: The protagonist (the son of Hades) can romance a male character (and enter into a poly relationship).

Icewind Dale II: mods

Icewind Dale: mod (one male character who can be romanced by a male protagonist).

GAMES I FORGOT (EDIT):

The Red String Club: you play as two gay men who are a couple.

Please keep in mind that this is the post I constantly update:

#pillars of eternity #enderal #baldur's gate 3 #rogue trader #dragon age #etc etc #wlw and mlm games #useless recs #i haven't done one of the useless recs in a while

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em-dash-press · 9 months

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7 Types of Internal Conflict for Your Protagonist

External conflict can always make readers more interested in a story. The fist fights, car chases, and fictional battles might make them hold their breath, but so can internal conflict. Check out the primary types of internal conflict your protagonist can experience to add more depth to your stories.

1. Morality Conflicts

Everyone eventually reaches a point where they question their morals. We have to believe in our morals as individuals to prioritize them. It’s not enough to have your parents or other leaders in your life tell you what’s right and wrong. You won’t hold the same morals until you choose them on your own.

Characters also reach these crucial points. It’s part of their character development like it’s part of our personal development.

Your protagonist may only grapple with one question of morality in your story or they could encounter many. The morals will most likely align with your theme so they make sense within your plot.

Example: Your protagonist is a scientific researcher and leading a trial that could result in a cure for a new illness. They know they shouldn’t take bribes and wouldn’t compromise their career, but someone who nearly qualifies for their trial offers a life-changing amount of money to get included even though they’ve already been ruled out. The protagonist has to choose—do they stick with what they trust is morally correct or do they take the money and use it to help pay for a family member’s legal battle in criminal court? Do they view it as potentially saving two lives at once? Or do they reject the bribe and face whatever consequences could have possibly been avoided?

2. Self-Identity Conflicts

Your identity is something that morphs with time. People rarely settle on one version of themselves forever. Life makes us reconsider things from different perspectives as we go through periods of challenges and peace. Characters also grapple with their identities when faced with similar situations. It makes them take a stand, hold their ground, or chase new goals, which is much more interesting for readers.

Example: Your protagonist considers themselves an optimist because they’re a firefighter who has saved many lives. When they realize their chief has been starting all the fires their station ever fought, your protagonist begins to view people more pessimistically. It affects how quickly they’re willing to risk their life for others, which results in challenges and a character arc they wouldn’t have experienced without this fundamental change in their identity.

3. Religious Belief Conflicts

It’s much easier to stay firm in your religious beliefs if nothing challenges them. If a challenge or major question arises and your beliefs hold firm, that makes your identity stronger. It doesn’t always happen that way though.

When your protagonist faces this type of internal conflict and realizes their opinions or feelings contradict their religious beliefs, it can take them onto a path that shapes a new identity. These choices are hard but real. Readers who are going through the same experience or experienced the same questions before will get absorbed by your story because it’s relatable.

Example: Your protagonist attends a religious gathering every week. The group fundamentally believes their religion exists to help those in need. Prejudices begin to invade that group, so people start choosing their own well-being instead of helping others. Your protagonist watches their religious family pick sides and has to question if they really believe in helping others or if they choose the familiarity and safety that comes with the approval of their longtime religious family.

4. Societal Role Conflicts

Societies have predetermined roles or expectations for people based on factors like their gender, sex, and economic status (just to name a few). Sometimes these roles feel natural to people and other times they don’t. We all have to decide what feels best for us on an ongoing basis. Your protagonist may need to choose their societal role, reject it, or shape a new one to portray your theme in a relatable way.

Example: Your protagonist goes to a university for the first time. They’ve been encouraged by everyone they know to start forming a large friend group. That’s what people are supposed to do in college, their loved ones said. But your protagonist is an introvert and values only a few friendships at a time. They have to choose if they’ll push themselves to become a social butterfly or if they’re happier as the person they’ve always been.

5. Political Opinion Conflicts

Political opinions can create all types of internal conflict. You may believe in a certain candidate or party during one part of your life and support something completely different in another part. Those values change as we experience new things and meet new people. Characters can face the same internal struggles as they recognize changing values or reject opportunities for change.

Example: Your protagonist may have never formed strong political opinions. They meet a new person who becomes their best friend, but their government starts passing laws that make their best friend’s life much harder because they’re part of a marginalized community your protagonist hasn’t empathized with before. Your protagonist now cares for that community, so they have to decide if they’ll make different political choices that could ostracize them from the community they’ve been part of all their life.

6. Love Conflicts

There are numerous types of love—self-love, your love for your family, and your love of a potential romantic interest or current partner. These come into conflicts in stories all the time because people experience them every day.

The conflicts result in choices—does your protagonist choose to continue loving a specific person or do they fall out of love? Do they fight for that love or realize it never actually existed? These are just a few ways this inner conflict can play out.

Example: Your protagonist has three siblings. They’d give their life for their siblings because they’ve lived in an emotional and physical home environment that’s been unsafe all of their lives. However, your protagonist is also the oldest child who has to leave home when they’re 18. They have to decide how to best love their siblings—do they leave them at home with a parent who is a threat to their safety so your protagonist can achieve an education or job that pays enough to create a new home for them? Do they get the legal system involved? Do they get their siblings and run away together since your protagonist is now old enough to lease an apartment, pay bills, etc?

7. Personal Journey Conflict

Existential crises make characters come to life by breaking their identity apart. These moments are unfortunately a real part of life, so readers want them in their books to help them cope, understand the changes, and generally feel not alone in their hardships.

This internal conflict happens when we question why we’re in this world or what we’re supposed to do with our lives. Sometimes there’s a clear answer after we start searching for it, but other times there isn’t. How your protagonist’s internal journey to a new purpose unfolds depends on your theme and plot.

Example: Your protagonist spent their life dreaming of becoming a politician. They wanted to help people and change the world, but they lost their first three attempts at running for local office. The third loss devastated them. If voters don’t want them as a leader, what’s their purpose? Who are they if they aren’t a leader who changes the world through effective policies? The answer may come through the plot events that follow. If they don’t get an answer, sometimes it means their purpose already exists in their life and they’re overlooking it.

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Reading through the basic types of internal conflict will help you shape your future protagonists. If you align your desired theme with an inner conflict, the external events in your plot will be much easier to choose. Your readers will also connect with your story better because they’ll see real problems reflected in your protagonist’s character arc.

#character development #writing characters #writing advice #character tropes #writing tips #character details #character creation #character arc #internal conflict #types of conflict #inner conflict #writeblr #writers of tumblr #writing inspiration #writing #creative writing #writing community #writing help #writing resources

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alicerosejensen · 8 months

Text

Tags: Dad!Leon(Older), Leon is the girl's father; fluff.

Warning: There are none.

He was really afraid of becoming a father. It's not so much the news of your pregnancy that scares him, but the likelihood that an innocent child may be harmed. His child. Leon is paranoid to worry about you and the baby. He'll probably get drunk before he puts that thought in his head. Don't get him wrong, he wants a family, he had plans after completing the police academy to get married in a few years and have two children, he still wants a family, but his fear devours this desire entirely because he knows that if something happens to the child and you one day, he just won't survive it.

It takes two to tango so I don't think he'll start getting angry and blaming you for everything. Leon just needs a little time, but when this happens and he thinks it over, he will want to transport you to some place that he thinks is safe.

You might have to get into a long debate with him, but this guy doesn't want anything like the Winters family to happen to his family. If someone kidnaps his child, he will simply go wild.

Due to the fact that he is a government agent, all information about you is classified. Also, if a bioterrorist attack suddenly occurs, you will be quickly evacuated along with your child. At least that's what Leon wants to believe.

The house will be nice and simple (perhaps like the Baker's house but without additional extensions) I think Leon likes something classic and cozy rather than modern and abstract. It is unlikely that you will be against it, especially since he does not skimp on quality items and excellent appliances.

Your child will definitely have a great room at all stages of growing up. But when the baby is born, Leon will still insist that the baby girl sleep next to him and with you for the first time. He would have put her in the middle of the bed, but since it was not safe, he agreed to just put the crib on his side. He's just calmer that way.

“Look, I found a catalog with a whole selection of cribs. There are different options, classic, round, even some very strange ones, what position should the child lie in?”

You will laugh, but in the end you will find the right option. Not too expensive, but first you need to explain to Leon that the baby in the first months of life will definitely not be whimsical in which bed he sleeps on. Leon, of course, knows this, as well as the fact that many of the toys that he has already ordered will not be needed by his daughter until at least six months, but he cannot do anything about it.

Choosing a name is a whole challenge. You two will have a debate about this when you find out the gender of the baby. Leon will want a simple name and will roll his eyes when you read him rare names from your notebook.

"Laura, Mary, Ashley, Sarah, Jessica, Kate? These names are for weaklings! Need something crazy and original, right?"

It will really be difficult, but he will win and his daughter will have a normal name.

When his baby is born and Leon holds her for the first time… you will see tears running down his cheeks. He would have kissed this pink, swaddled bundle of joy, but he just sat there, held her in his arms and cried from the fact that he was now the father of a little girl.

This girl will be lucky as hell. Her father would literally give her the whole world at her whim so you're a little worried that she might grow up spoiled. However, while she is a baby, your only problem is the fact that your daughter loves to be held in her arms because Leon constantly carries her around the house, showing her things and telling her some stories.

Leon will wake up at the first cry and immediately try to calm her down. Change a diaper? hungry? If you are not breastfeeding, Leon will easily prepare the formula and feed her. Sometimes you think that he is a better mother than you.

The best toys, a special children's area when your daughter begins to explore the world around her, beautiful and comfortable onesies. Your daughter will definitely have a bodysuit with the inscription "daddy's princess"

A stern special agent in the White House and on missions, Leon becomes an affectionate bear at home.

He is a truly caring dad. Watching cartoons with her, coloring coloring books, playing games when she grows up. This child is the only person who can attack him from behind and Leon’s reflexes simply won’t work.

Often he needs your help and advice on what to do best. He will especially need your help when her first childhood love and first broken heart happen. Because he can get really angry at anyone who causes his baby any pain. He really doesn’t understand how it’s possible not to love her, but more on that later.

At the age of 3-6 years, Leon can only be seriously shocked by some accidental injury or illness. Be serious but he will panic even if it is a common cold. You will have to work hard so that he doesn’t drop all his business and take your daughter straight to the doctors for all the examinations. Of course, you will dissuade him, but he will repeatedly check the baby while she is in bed. He will kiss her on the forehead and lie with her for a while so that she does not worry (even if she was initially calm). It would also literally break his heart if Leon heard you sneeze.

She will definitely be daddy's princess. She almost literally walks on his head, does her dad's hair with pink bobby pins and combs his bangs, and paints his nails with polish. Leon allows her to do almost everything to him. But of course he won't come to work with pink nail polish.

Support any hobby. It could be dancing, drawing or playing football. The main thing is that she likes it herself.

What Leon definitely won’t allow is to look into his safe where he stores weapons and ammunition. The password will be complex and only he will know it. This is one of the few things that Leon forbids his child.

He, of course, loves his baby and is ready to do anything for her, but… he won’t have a second child. Every time he returns home, a terrible thought comes to his mind: “What if something terrible happens to my family.” He often has a nightmare in which you and your daughter have turned into zombies, so he will need a drink.

I think one day, when your daughter woke up, she left her room and went down to the first floor, holding in her hands the plush bunny with whom she usually sleeps. She saw her father sitting at the table with a bottle of whiskey as he simply looked thoughtfully into his glass.

Leon, of course, immediately noticed her and looked at her. God, tears will immediately flow from his eyes when he stretches out his hands to her and your daughter runs to him. His arms wrap her tightly in his arms and pull her onto his lap. You will see this picture and the perplexed look of children's blue eyes turned to you when your husband is just sitting at the table, holding his beloved child and crying because he is fucking AFRAID!

You understand why Leon behaves this way. He finds it difficult to get rid of these thoughts because of his job. He survived Raccoon City, Tall Oaks, saved the president's daughter in Spain from parasite-infected fanatics, and a whole bunch of other crap that you probably don't even know about. He has every reason to be afraid and sometimes you regret that you did this to him. Although you know that Leon loves your daughter with him, the very thought that something like this will happen to her simply destroys him to the core.

Your little girl wipes the tears from his cheeks and kisses her daddy on the cheek, telling him that he doesn’t need to cry. Leon simply presses her too tightly, feeling her scent. If he could put an end to zombies and their creators once and for all…

Leon will take her and you back to the bedroom. Next to the two of you, he will be able to sleep a little peacefully, but you know that his sleep is never sound.

You try to talk to him but he pushes you away. He really loves you, but he hates it when people mess with his brain. Of course, whiskey is a bad medicine and Leon himself does not want his daughter to find out that her dad sometimes has the weakness to drink, thereby ignoring his problems, but still… no matter how hard he tries to be perfect, he is not perfect.

When your daughter goes to school, Leon will rejoice at any of her successes. She will also help with homework as much as needed. He will explain everything in detail, clearly and without shouting (sorry, this is a sore subject for me).

He will not always be able to attend school events, unlike you, but if possible he will not miss them. However, he asks you to record everything on camera.

Oh yes, on his desk at home there is a framed family photo of the three of you in the park, joyful and carefree.

So, adolescence is…complicated. Leon understands that his baby will begin to grow up and has no problem organizing small changes in her room. And he also understands that hormones are coming into play. Sometimes screams and anger accompanied by loud slamming of the door are simply inevitable.

That's the time when he can really start to get angry and swear in response, so you realize you need to cool his temperament… The truth is that you really have to punish your daughter when she crosses all boundaries.

Nevertheless, if something suddenly happens, she will always run to Leon, knowing that he will protect her. He may be angry, but as mentioned above, he will do everything possible so that nothing happens to his family.

Partying with friends at night? Absolutely not! Never! Have pity on the old man's heart. Leon will find a bunch of reasons not to let her go anywhere at night. After all, there will be alcohol, shitty guys who can offend her or get her drunk and take advantage of this by ruining her life. Perhaps Leon will exaggerate, but until the age of 16 he will definitely be adamant about this. Sometimes being the daughter of a government agent just isn't possible.

And then, before letting her go to the party, he will sit her down on the sofa and give her a long lecture, telling her to always watch her drink, drink only what she pours for herself or is poured in front of her. If are distracted, do not drink under any circumstances, but take another glass! If someone pesters her, he will show several self-defense techniques and immediately tell to call him. Well, the cherry on the cake - he still won’t allow her to stay there all night. He also won’t bother with calls, but she will need to respond to all his SMS, if not… he will come right away.

Even you yourself will get tired of this overprotection, realizing that Leon often goes too far.

But you ask your daughter to be more lenient towards her father, because he is simply worried about her life. However, when you are young and have not seen what Leon saw, it is difficult to understand his actions and behavior.

There will be conflicts and there will be a lot of them.

The only thing that can make your daughter understand the actions of her father is if someone kidnaps her and confronts her with the infected, forcing her father to go to another wilderness inhabited by the infected. (bad version of events).

Leon will immediately go after her, promising you that he will return her safe and sound. He remembers how he saved Ashley, but she was already an adult girl and not a teenager who, at most, had seen horror films on TV.

Leon, like Barry or Ethan, is ready to kick the ass of any bastard who hurts his baby. In any case, he will do everything to save her.

I imagine this concept as a teenage girl hiding behind her father's back, holding on to his kurta or vest while he shoots enemies, sometimes throwing improvised objects like bottles or stones, stunning the opponents.

After returning home, she will hug you tightly and cry for the hundredth time, promising her father that she will no longer contradict him.

There is no need to say what condition Leon himself will be in after this personal rescue mission. All three of you will experience extreme stress after what happened.

In a good scenario, bypassing the kidnapping, peace between father and daughter would most likely have come much later, when the teenage years would have been long behind us. Probably this realization would have come to her when her naive view of the world ceased to be naive and she began to understand what her father had been struggling with for many years.

Oh yes, about first love. Leon would definitely be vigilant and keep a close eye on everything. He has a whole database and he will immediately run through all the boy’s data, having learned everything about him, and yet he doesn’t really like the idea that some dubious guy is hunting for his daughter.

If Leon realizes that this is an ordinary bastard who runs after every skirt… well, he will find a way to take him away from his treasure. If not and he's just a normal guy… he'll just watch and give a couple of warnings.

The first parting… Leon consoles as best he can, but he has no idea what to do. He himself got drunk and slept through his first day of work, but this option is definitely not suitable. That's why he needs your help again.

"Movies, books, maybe give her something? What can I do to stop her crying into her pillow?! I don't know what else to tell her!"

In the end, he will gain strength and give a good speech, comforting your daughter's broken heart. After all, life does not end with one boy who, in Leon’s opinion, only proved that he is not worthy of his daughter.

He's a good dad. Not ideal, but your daughter wouldn't want it any other way. Of course, she is sad that he may not be home for a long time and sometimes he is too suspicious, but he is her dad who will move the earth for her.

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am-i-the-asshole-official · 6 months

Note

CW: misgendering

tl;dr: I'm intentionally misgendering my classmates purely to fuck with my dad's gender biases.

Story:

My dad refuses to accept they/them pronouns and queerness as a concept, so when i talk about they/them friends, my dad will "assign" them a new he/she pronoun based on... their names and his boomer vibes, I guess. He's also got wildly misogynistic/patriarchal views, and clings so hard to his little gender role binary that one of his daughters saying "oh that's a nice car" is enough to set him off into a tantrum about "trucks are for boys" and he will knock rapidly on the door if my brother starts singing to his music because "it's gay". I have no familial love/care for him, but he is still a fixture in my family's home that I have to tolerate. Gross and full of shit, like the cat's litter pan, honestly.

Last summer I was telling my mom that my classmate "Alex" (they/them) was being given an opportunity at the university I had also applied for and my dad piped up that "MEN just have a natural talent in maths" and "obviously HE is qualified and deserves HIS position". I had this little spike of anger (I'm a cis woman, and he thinks maths is a "masculine field"), and I impulsively told him "actually ALEXANDRA is a woman but you're absolutely right that SHE deserves it!" Immediately he tried to backtrack and spluttered about the only reason "she" got the job was "affirmative action" then just got real quiet and didn't interrupt again which was LOVELY.

Since then, I've been referring to ALL my friends and classmates (cis, trans/nb, and unknown) with gender neutral nicknames or initials and they/them pronouns until my dad says something with a gross gender bias, then "correcting" him to the opposite pronoun which makes him immediately splutter and exit the conversation. Sometimes it'll even be the same person in a different story, and I'll change up the pronouns on him again because he doesn't care enough to remember who my friends are lmao. He's questioned it exactly once, and I told him I have a lot of friends in university with similar names and he probably mixed two of them up.

My two younger siblings who are still in high school have also picked up on what I'm doing, and started doing similar things to him of their own volition. (My brother has turned all of his friends into one lump amalgamation of "the friend" and will not clarify which specific friend he is talking about until after dad has answered him.)

I have not told anyone at university that I'm doing this and have not asked permission to do so beforehand. I feel that it's better for them to not know because it's like the warning on movies that the story or characters may resemble my classmates, but it's ultimately a fictional story I'm telling just to fuck with my dad, and there is like a 11% chance of any of them ever meeting my dad.

So, Am I The Asshole for misgendering my classmates when talking to my dad, and not telling them I'm doing so?

What are these acronyms?

#aita #am i the asshole

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bucca2 · 9 months

Text

Shrike pt. 1 - words hung above but never would form

definition. male shrikes are known for their habit of catching insects and small vertebrates and impaling them on thorns

König x high school sweetheart reader

2nd person, gender neutral reader for now but reader is afab and referred to as a girl, reader is Austrian/has lived in Austria and speaks German for most of the story, romance, pining, friends to lovers, reader's nickname is Thorn, König's first name is Alexander

4.8k words

tw: bullying, brief mention of cheating and domestic abuse (not explicit, mentions of violence, and not done by König), mention of terrorism, suicidal thoughts

[NEXT]

based on this post by @ceilidho, who gave me permission to write this! many thanks <3

this post is dedicated to @papaver-decervicatus, who I am so proud of for finishing chapter 4 of her fic cat/mouse/den (which I highly recommend) and eating NO glass in the process. her headcanons for König have had a huge influence on me, and while there are some differences between julius and alexander, I absolutely must thank Caedis for her wonderful portrayal of König.

and of course, to @danibee33, for fueling my König brainrot. without you, I probably would not have returned to writing <33

disclaimer, I am not Austrian, I do not speak German, so if there's anything that needs correcting, please do reach out!

You admit, you’ve always had an affinity for protecting the weak.

When you were twelve, a bird slammed headlong into your bedroom window. The poor thing had avoided snapping its own neck but was certainly in no condition to fly. You’d bolted out of your childhood home to check on it, but by the time you arrived, a huge grey tomcat was prowling, sitting back on his haunches and ready to pounce. You generally liked cats, but this one was a mean old stray, and you’d always been frightened to go near him.

Without hesitation, you had shoved the cat aside, spitting and yowling, and taken the little bird into your hands.

It took a few days to nurse back to health, and you still remember the day you released it back into nature. It was worth the long scratch down your arm, pride swelling in your heart as it spread its wings and flew into a vivid blue sky. You remember it even now: a charming little gray bird, a streak of black coloring over its eyes. A shrike, your mother had identified it as.

People are no different than animals, sometimes. People can be cornered, battered, and bruised as well. You recognize the broken hunch of the bird you rescued in the boy sitting by himself at lunch time. His shoulders curl inwards with a desperate need to go unnoticed. You’ve seen him around: he’s not in any of your classes, but your classes always seem to end up in the same hallways, so you pass each other all the time.

He jumps a little as you slide into the seat next to him, shrinking away from you in a way that breaks your heart. “Hey.”

No response. You offer your name, but he seems reluctant to divulge his own.

“Is it okay if I sit here?”

He shrugs.

“Thanks. I don’t know anybody at this school, so it’s nice to have a friend.”

“…friend?” He has a nice voice, you think. Timid, but almost sweet.

“Well, if you’ll let me call you one.”

“…”

And so begins your friendship with König.

I was housed by your warmth Thus transformed By your grounded and giving And darkening scorn

You didn’t call him that in high school, of course. You wouldn’t know that name until much, much later. It takes a while to coax him out of his shell, cajoling him that you can’t call him “green-eyed boy” forever, to get his name.

“Alexander is a very good name,” you assure him, and he seems pleased. He’s still hesitant to speak to you at all, but that’s just fine by you. You’ve got plenty to talk about, anyway.

“You know, I read this book about Alexander the Great. There’s this crazy story about one of his battles at a city called Tyre. He was laying siege to it after a misunderstanding with their king…” you chatter on, unaware of the intense stare from the boy sitting next to you.

“…ordinarily, sieging an island is pretty difficult, but you won’t believe what he did,” you rattle on. “He—”

“He built his own bridge,” Alexander says, so quietly you almost don’t hear him at first. You look at him in surprise.

“Yes! You know this story already?”

“I read a lot about him.”

“Then why did you let me ramble on about it if you knew about it already?” You’re a little embarrassed, having felt proud of yourself for knowing niche facts about historical figures.

“I like listening to you talk.”

That shuts you up for a moment. Only for a moment though, before you start to laugh.

“What?” he asks, an edge creeping into his voice.

“Nothing! It’s just—usually people tell me the opposite,” you say. “People say I talk too much.”

“I don’t mind.” His eyes dart to your face before looking away again.

“That’s good to hear. But I hope you know this means you’re never getting rid of me now,” you tease, nudging him gently.

He doesn’t respond, but for a second, you could have sworn that a corner of his mouth had turned up into a smile.

Learning more about him is like trying to draw blood from a stone, but you do your best. He mentions sharing a room with a cousin. His oma makes the best comfort food. Sometimes his mother takes him into town to buy candy, but he has to hide it or his cousin will steal it. Not that he cares that much—he doesn’t have much of a sweet tooth, but his family doesn’t come from means, so it means a lot to him whenever his mother spares a few pennies to buy him a frivolity.

It's what he doesn’t say that tells you the most about him. The way he fidgets with his clothes when he’s nervous. The brief panic that shoots through him whenever you call his name before he relaxes when he realizes it’s just you. The way he shies away from people in the hallways, just to avoid any contact whatsoever.

The fact that he never talks about his father.

The way he curls into himself when he’s being bullied.

“You should be apologizing to me for being in my way right about now, freak,” Andreas taunts him. He’s knocked Alexander’s books to the ground, like some sort of cartoon caricature of a bully, and you’re fed up.

“Hey!” Without missing a beat, you slide yourself between Alexander and Andreas. You’ve recently hit a bit of a growth spurt, so you note with a bit of smugness that you’re at least an inch or two taller than Andreas. You’re also quite a bit taller than Alexander, you realize. The two of you are usually sitting when you talk, so you’ve never really noticed.

“Leave him alone!” You stand your ground even as Andreas fixes you with a withering glare.

“Ah, so you’re gonna let your big strong girlfriend fight your fights now, is that it?” Andreas sneers. Alexander stiffens behind you, and you decide right then and there that you’ve had enough of this nonsense.

“You’re the last person who should be bringing up girlfriends, Andreas,” you say, staring him down with a look that you hope is sufficiently intimidating. “Everybody knows Yulia broke up with you because you can’t get it up.” You don’t know Yulia. You don’t give enough of a shit about Andreas to follow the gossip about him. But by the way his cheeks get ruddy, you know you’ve struck a nerve. The handful of spectators your little confrontation has attracted snicker.

“You little bitch,” he snarls. You hear the gasp of the students surrounding you before you feel it. You put a hand to your rapidly reddening cheek.

The little twerp had slapped you.

“That’s what you get for getting in my way,” he says, with a smug little look that you want to wipe off his face.

You’re not a violent person. And honestly, you could have been expelled for what happens next. But you cast a quick glimpse behind you at Alexander on the ground, and something about the look in his eyes reminds you of that bird you rescued, and a quick and hot anger rises in you.

You punch Andreas.

With no wind-up, no warning, you break his nose, and he drops like a rock, howling and clutching at the blood pouring from his nostrils. A sick little giggle comes out of you as you watch, drowned out by the uproar of your little audience.

“What on earth is going on here?!” You hear a teacher roar, and the crowd quickly begins to scatter. Without hesitation, you pull Alexander up and escape before you can be subjected to the consequences of your actions.

“Boy, am I glad he didn’t put up more of a fight,” you say gleefully, high on adrenaline. “That could have gotten quite ugly.”

“I didn’t know you had that in you,” Alexander says when the two of you have gotten far away enough. The way he looks at you now is a little different—almost reverent.

“I didn’t know either!” you say. “I’ve never done that before!”

“Who knew such a pretty rose had such sharp thorns?” he mumbles to himself. Your eyes zip to him, and even he looks surprised at the words coming out of his mouth.

“A pretty rose?” you tease, nudging him on the arm. He flushes pink and turns away, but there’s a bit of a lopsided half-smile on his lips.

You’re not sure why, but the sight of it makes your skin tingle.

The first few years of high school are relatively uneventful outside of skirmishes with Alexander’s various tormentors. Your biggest regret is that you can’t always be there for him—sometimes you have to spend your free periods catching up on readings or speaking with teachers. But you’re always there for him afterwards, poison in your voice as you hatch plans to make his bullies’ lives miserable. The plans never go anywhere, but thinking about retribution always seems to make him perk up a little. And really, that’s all that matters to you.

It's silly, how long it took you to realize how much of a fixture he was in your life. There’s a street corner a few blocks from the school you always meet him at so the two of you can walk the rest of the way together. The few times you share classes, you’re always sitting together, exchanging notes and quietly judging your classmates together. And you always, always sit with him during lunch. Even when you start making other friends who surely would welcome you at their tables, you always return to the quiet green-eyed boy in the corner.

You tell yourself it’s because he’s lonely, and he needs the company. You tell yourself the rumors about the two of you are silly, the result of bored hormonal teenagers who can’t fathom being a genuine friend to someone of the opposite sex. You tell yourself it means nothing that your face feels warm whenever he smiles at you.

You never get the chance to figure out if it does mean anything. He gives you the bad news on the last day of classes before summer break.

“I…I see,” you say, trying to swallow past the lump in your throat. For once, you’re at a loss of what to say. His fingers twist around each other in his lap, the way they only do when he’s really anxious.

“Well, a fresh start is good, right?” You offer him a smile, but your heart’s not in it. Maybe you haven’t spent as much time with him as you used to back in first year—you’ve started to take more advanced classes, and you’ve been so swamped with homework and projects that sometimes hanging out with Alexander is put on the back burner. But you’d always taken comfort in knowing that he would always be there at mealtime. A steady presence in your life, as everything around you seems to be speeding towards a future you’re not quite ready for yet.

Now he’s leaving. You’d like to think your concern is for him—what’s to say his new school won’t also be rife with harassment? Will he be able to make new friends? Or will he be all alone at the lunch table again? But really, who are you trying to fool? The sudden heaviness in your chest is selfish. What are you going to do without him?

The roaring in your head stills as you feel his hand cover yours. You stare at it dumbly, unable to lift your head and look him in the eyes. Your gut feels like it’s flipping and twisting all over itself.

You lift your eyes to his. For one breathless, indescribable moment, you think he’s going to kiss you. You’re sure he’s going to kiss you. You lean closer to him, and you can feel his breath on your lips.

Your eyes slide shut.

A shout startles your eyes back open, and he jolts away from you. It’s your mother, calling that she’s here to pick you up. You let out a frustrated noise as you call back to her that you’re coming before turning back to him.

The moment is long gone, and your heart twinges with regret as he avoids meeting your gaze. “You’ll write to me, won’t you?” you say softly. “And we can still see each other?”

“Of course I will, rosethorn,” he says, with that shy little smile you love so much.

You don’t see him for another ten years.

I couldn't utter my love when it counted I couldn't whisper when you needed it shouted Ah, but I'm singing like a bird 'bout it now

It’s ironic, really. Saving birds. Saving boys. But the one person you can’t save is yourself.

Your life post-König is like the drop on a roller coaster, but with none of the thrill. High school flies by in a flurry of deadlines and mental breakdowns. It’s worth it when you get into a good university—at least, you thought so. In reality, there’s no work in Austria for someone with your degree. Your parents are older, well on their way towards retirement, so you find yourself unwilling to burden them. You’re lost, stuck, and so very alone.

And then you meet him.

Tall, handsome, a little older, with a blossoming career. In hindsight, how much of a perfect package he presented himself as was the earliest red flag. But when you’re young and behind on rent, anything better than that feels like a miracle.

You know better, really. You knew it the whole time. Getting married after knowing each other for 2 months isn’t as bad as it could be, but it’s still too quick for your comfort. But the eviction notice was on your door, and he was a perfect gentleman. What could go wrong, right?

Everything. He at least has the decency to keep up the façade for another month, but that’s the only credit you’ll ever give the man you’ve shackled yourself to. It becomes increasingly obvious that he only married you to have a live-in maid while he philanders around as he pleases. You try, oh god do you try, for five long, fruitless years. God, it’s so silly when you think about it. You liked him so much, it took you so long to realize he had never liked you in the first place. He’d scooped up the first desperate college grad he’d found, and thinking about it makes you want to hide from everyone you know.

Which you do: hiding from what few friends you do have, hiding from your parents, hiding from the part of your brain that screams that you’re wasting the best years of your life cleaning up after a grown man who won’t even touch you, much less fuck you. Your 20s are for drinking, one-night stands, and figuring out what the fuck the rest of your life is going to look like. There is plenty of drinking, but the rest of it, not so much.

You’re going to divorce him, you tell yourself in year six. Once you get a job, you’re out. But you’re no fresh grad anymore, and the 6-year gap in your resume isn’t helping matters. You spot a glimpse of light at the end of the tunnel when he tells you you’re moving: his company is offering him a higher paid position, and it’s in a bustling downtown area. Plenty of opportunity for you, right?

That’s when he starts hitting you.

You’re away from your parents, your friends, your home. You took English classes, but that won’t exactly help you in this equally European foreign country whose language you don’t speak. Now that you’re approaching your 30s, your husband seems to be rapidly realizing that his youth is also disappearing. His new job is more stressful, and most days he has no outlet for it other than taking it out on you.

Now you long for the days when he didn’t come home until you’d already fallen asleep.

And then the terror attacks begin, and your once-bustling city shuts down. More isolation. Even less hope. You stay at home all day, torn between hoping someone will get rid of your husband for you and the abject terror of being left all alone in a foreign country torn apart by violent partisans.

That’s when the despair really sets in: you’ve wasted over a decade in this awful, dead-end relationship. Sure, you’ve got a roof over your head and food in your stomach: you should feel grateful. But you don’t.

You start hoping the attacks will take you out instead.

I fled to the city with so much discounted Ah, but I'm flying like a bird to you now Back to the hedgerows where bodies are mounted

“There are mercenaries in town.”

You look up from your breakfast, lost in thought thinking about all the errands you have to run today. “Yeah?”

“About time we stopped relying on our corrupt fucking military,” he grumbles. “Maybe they’ll end this goddamn conflict once and for all.”

You don’t have much to say about that. What does it matter to you, anyway? The only conflict that matters to you lives at home, and you stopped trying to fight it a long time ago.

“The curfew’s a pain in the ass, though. You behave yourself, you hear me?” His sharp glare reminds you that he’s not saying this out of a concern for your safety: if you make trouble for him, you’ll pay for it later. You nod mutely.

Your morning goes by relatively uneventfully. You do the dishes, stare at the wall, sigh, stare at the wall some more. As much of a prison as this apartment is, you like it decently well when he’s not in it. Going outside and seeing the ravages of war all around you is anxiety-inducing. But you can’t put off buying groceries anymore.

The arrival of the mercenaries makes itself immediately apparent. The streets are somehow even emptier, and what people there are on the streets move quickly and cast suspicious glances at everyone else.

You were hoping not to interact with anybody, but your hopes are dashed when you see a checkpoint ahead, manned by soldiers in unfamiliar uniforms. Although most of them are wearing different gear, they still look more orderly and well-kept than the country’s own military. Murder must pay well.

You look around nervously, but there’s no alternate route here, and nobody local going through with you. You strongly consider going home, but you’d just have to do this all over again tomorrow.

You steel yourself with a deep breath.

“Identification?”

You show the mercenary your ID with trembling fingers, gripping your bag tightly and praying he doesn’t find your nervousness suspicious.

“Where are you headed?”

“Just—just down the street,” you say, wincing at your heavy German accent. Years upon years of living here and you still sound like a foreigner. “Getting food.” You’re so anxious you forget the word for “groceries” for a moment. You only know enough of the local language to get by, and you’re sure you must sound like a kindergartener.

The soldier raises an eyebrow at you. “You are German?”

“I…Austrian,” you answer hesitantly. Oh God, you hope there’s no issue with that. You’re not so much afraid of being detained as you are of getting home too late to make dinner.

“Interesting.” The soldier hands back your ID. “Our commander is Austrian, as well.”

You perk up a little bit at that. You’ve met a handful of German-speakers here, but not a single one of your countrymen.

Well. Aside from the one who came here with you.

“He should actually be arriving here any moment now. Big guy in a hood. You can’t miss him. They call him König.” As if on cue, a military grade vehicle pulls up to the checkpoint, military personnel stepping out. And then…

Your blood runs cold.

Nothing, nothing could have prepared you for the sight of the beast that steps out of the car. Even from a short distance, you can tell he’s a colossal size. Two metres tall, easily, wearing a dark hood that reminds you of a medieval executioner. And as if that weren’t intimidating enough, two red trails, like bloody tears, are bleached under his eyes. His eyes, which must have some sort of black paint around them, giving him the impression of being two eyes staring out at you from the pitch blackness of the hood.

Two piercing green eyes.

Trained directly on your face.

Staring in disbelief.

“I…need to return home. I’ve forgotten something.” All worries about appearing suspicious fly out the window as the enormous man in the hood hesitates for a moment before making his way towards you with alarming speed.

You all but fly back down the street, making a beeline for your building. Just a few moments ago, you were excited to meet the man. Now, the image of his eyes staring into yours fills you with a fear you can’t describe.

The next day you take a long detour to avoid the checkpoint. It’ll take you twice as long to get home this time, but it’s worth it. You can’t put the shopping off another day: the brand-new bruise on your arm throbs as a reminder. And you certainly don’t want to run into the hooded soldier again.

You get your shopping done without much fanfare. The old lady cashier, who usually looks at you from over her glasses with the stern look you’ve seen a lot of people around here level at foreigners, even pressed a piece of candy from behind the register into your hand. You’re pretty sure it’s just because she wanted to get rid of it, but it does wonders for your mood.

You’re busy plotting when to enjoy your little treat when you turn a corner and freeze.

He’s here. He’s there, standing in an alleyway near your building. Somehow even larger than you remember him yesterday, still wearing that awful hood.

Does he know where you live? You curse yourself for running straight home yesterday. He must have seen the direction you went in—or did he follow you? You attempt to quietly retreat and take another route home, but your shoe scuffs a paving stone. And like a hawk spotting its prey, his head darts towards you.

You book it.

“Wait!” calls a deep voice. Tears spring to your eyes as you hear heavy footsteps pursuing you. What have you done to deserve this? You’re no criminal. Your only crime is being a naïve dumbass in your twenties.

Your arm burns as you turn corner after corner, not bothering to take note of where you’re going. It’s no use, though: you can hear him gaining on you. Fuck, is this it? You can’t even fathom what he wants you for, and you don’t want to think about it either—

“Rosethorn!” You come to a screeching halt.

There’s only one person who has ever called you that.

You turn around, chest heaving with exertion, as the hooded soldier—König, the soldier said his name was—comes into view, approaching you slowly.

“It’s me,” he says, holding his hands out like he’s approaching a wounded animal. You’re not really sure what the point is, considering the gigantic knife he’s got strapped to his thigh is intimidating all on its own, but somehow it still puts you at ease.

“Alex...?” you whisper, hardly daring to believe it.

“Yes,” he says. His posture has changed from when you saw him at the checkpoint. He’s hunching over, trying to make himself smaller. It reminds you of that first day when you sat next to him at lunch.

It’s him.

You instantly drop all your bags and cling to him in a hug, tears spilling from your eyes. He’s so different: most obviously, he's so tall. He must have hit some growth spurt after he moved away, because he towers over you now. You can feel under all the gear that he’s put on serious muscle—not surprising for a soldier, of course. And when his arms fold themselves over you, you’re filled with a sense of safety you haven’t felt in a long time.

“What are you doing here?” you both ask at the same time. A giggle bubbles out of you as you watch his eyes crinkle in an obvious smile. God, his eyes are so green.

“I’m stationed here because of the conflict,” he says. “But what are you doing here? I contacted your parents, and they said you had moved here, but they didn’t say why.”

You’re not surprised. You’re still in contact with your parents, but you don’t talk about the elephant in your home. You know they would have helped you, if only you had asked for it, but you never have.

“I…it’s complicated,” you say, withdrawing from the hug. You stare at the ground, brushing away the wetness in your eyes.

“I have nothing urgent right now,” he says, staring at you intently.

You swallow past the lump in your throat. “I…got married,” you whisper.

Instantly, his body language changes, stiffening in shock. He takes a half-step away from you, which makes you want to cry all over again. This is awful. This is humiliating. You wish you could go back in time and shake some sense into yourself.

“I see,” he says in a strangled voice. “Congratulations.”

Despite your best efforts, the tears spill over again. “No, not congratulations,” you say. “It—”

It was the worst mistake of your life, you want to say, but you just can’t get the words out. He must notice you beginning to quake with fear, because he raises a hand to touch you gently on the arm—right on the bruise.

His stare hardens as he watches you flinch. “Rosethorn, what’s the matter?”

Everything, you want to say. I’m standing in an alleyway with my childhood crush, shaking like a leaf because a monster lives in my house, and I can’t get away from him.

With a feather-like touch surprising for a man with such large hands—he grew so much— he goes to push up your sleeve. You catch a glimpse of the bruise before you have to turn away again, shuddering. It’s ugly: black and green, and very clearly shaped like a human grip.

“I…bumped into a shelf,” you say lamely. You can’t bring yourself to rope him into your troubles. He’s a soldier now, for Pete’s sake. He has bigger problems.

You can’t read his expression due to the hood—but there’s a blazing anger in his eyes you remember all too well. The quiet fury you often saw in him so many years ago.

He must see in your expression that you don’t want to be questioned about it right now, and thankfully, he relents. With an ease in his movement that must stem from some newfound confidence, he reaches over and picks up your bags for you. “Let me carry these for you.”

It’s nice, to be taken care of for once.

Your mad dash took both of you quite far away from your building, so you have enough time for quite a nice little chat. You tell him about your time in university, he tells you what happened to him after he moved away. He’d jumped at the chance to enlist as soon as he turned 17, on the recommendation of an uncle who had spent time in the military. You laugh when he tells you that they wouldn’t let him be a sniper, a pout in his tone. You could have imagined him as a sniper back in high school, but he’s so large now it’s impossible not to notice him.

“The discipline was good for me,” he recounts. “I needed to grow a spine.”

“Don’t say that. You were just trying to get by in school, like everybody else.”

He shrugs. “I wanted to be like you.”

“Like me?” You ask incredulously.

“My rose with thorns,” he says, with a fondness that makes you blush. “Do you remember that day you punched that punk Andreas?”

“How could I forget? My fist hurt for days,” you say with a grin. “But I didn’t regret it for a second.”

He looks down at you—that’s new—with pride in his eyes. “I thought about you that day all throughout training,” he says. “You were my guardian angel.”

Your cheeks grow even warmer, and you feel like a teenager again. How can he still make you feel this way so easily after all this time? “He had a punchable face,” you say dismissively. “If not me, then it would have been someone else.”

You’re almost disappointed to arrive home. Only yesterday, home was your sanctuary. Now, it means being separated from the one person you trust fully in this country. You turn to him, almost bashful. “This is where I live."

He sets the bags down like they’re made of fine china, and he’s standing so close you almost stop breathing. The air is charged, the same way it felt that night when you almost kissed. You watch him as he watches you.

“Can I see you again?” he asks, breaking the silence.

“Of course,” you say, and the sparkle in his eye dazzles you.

You watch him leave until you can’t see him anymore. And for once, you enter your home with a light heart.

Remember me, love When I'm reborn As the shrike to your sharp And glorious thorn

if you'd like to be added to the taglist, just drop a reply! feedback is always appreciated, and my inbox is open, so please feel free to drop me an ask! I will 100% write little scenarios/headcanons about this couple because I have so many thoughts and ideas for them lol

I anticipate about 2-3 parts for this, maybe with König pov in the next part? he doesn't come across this way in this part, because it's from Thorn's perspective, but he is a very nasty boy indeed. also, I know putting lyrics in the middle of a fic is so passé, but I can't help myself. it's hozier! indulge me. also this isn't beta read so I really hope it doesn't suck

#bucca writes #könig #könig x reader #könig cod #könig mw2 #call of duty #cod mw2 #cod x reader #cod #mw2 #konig #konig cod #konig x reader #fic:shrike

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