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mrpenguinpants · 1 year

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Low Battery Warning - Touch Starved HCs

— If he goes too long without you by his side, he starts to get irritable and too frustrating for anyone to deal with. For the sake of everyone, please remember to recharge your battery before leaving for extended periods of time.

— Tartaglia, Kaveh, Ayato, Alhaitham, and Dottore

[Masterlist]

I JUST WANT TO WRITE WHIPPED MEN OKAY? What do you mean I have to write a part 2 for two different fics??? I'm honestly surprised I managed to finish this. Also, ALHAITHAM NATION REJOICE, YOUR BOY IS HERE AND I CAN FINALLY MAKE A BANNER. I wasn't going to write him (I'm a kaveh stan) but now that he's here...

Tartaglia

While Tartaglia is the most favored to work with compared to the other Harbingers, that's only by a very slim margin. The closest you'll get to death is when the man gets bored and randomly picks someone to fight, but they usually make it out alive. Maybe a couple weeks in the medical bay and a few broken bones but they aren't dead for the most part. He's also the youngest and therefore the most easy-going even if he's a bit childish. He's a soldier first so he knows the pain of listening to someone verbally beat you down and not having the power to do anything back. But he's still a person at the end of the day and after so many people messing up and delaying his work, he's starting to get irritated. First, it was someone spilling tea onto important documents that he just finished signing, then the Fatui agents stationed near Jueyun Karst being defeated by some no-named treasure hoarders, and then finally being held hostage in his own office because the Liyue Qixing wouldn't leave him alone. God, he slumps over his desk, he just wants to go home and see you!

By the time he finally stumbles through the door, you're already passed out on the couch. He can't blame you, it's very late into the night and he would probably be more upset if you forced yourself to stay awake just to welcome him home. But he can still pout that he was taken away from you for so long, he didn't even get to see you all day. That's borderline torture. But he supposes he can forgive you since you look so cute bundled up in his red shirt. If he happens to take a picture or two that's for his knowledge and eyes only. So he easily scoops you up into his arms, taking a couple seconds to just stand there as he basks in the comfortable weight before he takes you to bed. Just for tonight. This will be the last time work takes him away from home for so long.

It lasts for two weeks. Usually, Childe could hold himself together, he's been away for far longer, but the fact that you're right there and he can't hold you is driving him insane. By the 14th day, Childe is ready to snap his pen in half and hurl it at the next person that comes through that cursed door. He doesn't though because it's usually Ekaterina, the only one that has the balls to talk to him right now, and she deserves far more than she's paid to deal with. But he's touch-deprived and tired. Even Zhongli with his infinite amount of patience advises him to sort himself out before inviting him out to lunch next time. He tried to deal with it on his own, this isn't the first time he's felt claustrophobic, but after the fifth Hilichurl camp he doesn't feel any better which only makes his mood sour further. He might even beat Scaramouche in how short-tempered he is right now. There's heavy air wherever he goes and whatever carefree persona he usually has on is thrown out the window.

It's Zhongli who clues you into how bad Childe's demeanor has gotten, the rascal looks horrible both physically and mentally. Despite the consultant and Childe being on friendly terms, you don't really know the man that well. But he doesn't seem like the type of person to lie so you thank him for the information and make your way to the Northland Bank. To be honest, you've been feeling the effects of not seeing Childe as often as you usually do. You know his work can get so hectic that it keeps him cooped up in his office but it's been a while since you've even seen that fluff of ginger hair. He usually doesn't want you near his work considering how it might put you in danger, but if he isn't taking care of himself then what kind of partner would you be if you didn't help?

Even outside the building, you can feel the effects of what Zhongli talked about. All the agents look like they're on their last legs, there's a gloomy atmosphere surrounding the building even though the sun shines brightly across Liyue harbor, and you can vaguely hear an annoyed Harbinger scolding someone. As soon as you set foot into the building Ekaterina nearly tackles you off your feet. Desperately thanking you for coming and looking at you as if you're the Tsaritsa herself.

As soon as Ekaterina says your name, Childe whips his head around at such a speed that you're afraid his head might fling off as his eyes lock onto yours. You know Childe wouldn't hurt you, never you, but he's looking at you like he's about to devour you and you're suddenly very glad you've never been on the receiving end of his anger. He shoves the papers in his hands into the agent's chest he was probably reprimanding and marches over to where you are.

"C-Childe?" "S-Sir?"

Ekaterina mirrors the wary call of his name until he's finally in front of you and without a word, throws his arms around you. You stumble a bit under his weight but you quickly circle your arms around his back and hold on tight so you don't trip over your own feet. You can only imagine what it looks like for Ekaterina to see her stiff boss suddenly deflate in your arms. A pleased groan escapes from him as he basically lifts you off your feet just so he can hug you closer to him. You almost feel like a child's teddy bear with your legs dangling in the air trapped in a crushing hug. You know that your relationship with Childe isn't a secret but you both don't show any displays of affection, you don't even really interact in public in general, so this is pretty open for the two of you. Well, for you at least. You don't even think Childe is registering anything around him except that you're here.

"Are you okay милый?" you whisper into his ear, nuzzling into the side of his head that's nestled into your shoulder. Your snezhnaya is a little rough around the edges but from how he seems to purr you think he enjoys it nonetheless. "Although I'm happy to see you too, don't you think we should move so we aren't blocking the main entrance?"

He sleepily blinks awake and slowly starts to acknowledge that you're both very much standing at the bank's entrance with everyone shamelessly staring. He frankly looks like he doesn't care, people have working legs, they can walk around you both. But he also doesn't want anyone to find another reason to take him away when he's very comfortable.

"If you need me, don't," is the clipped order that rings out through the bank. You know he's heavily censoring what he actually wants to say but from how everyone cowers away, they can probably tell what would happen if they disobey him. They all give him a nod and a salute before he's picking you up, cradles you into your arms, and swiftly walks upstairs. With a kick of his boot, the door slams shut and he sinks into his chair, you seated pretty on his lap.

"Please never leave me, I think I might die," he groans, re-wrapping his arms tight around your waist. You can only sigh fondly as you gently run your fingers through his hair, rubbing small circles into his scalp and he melts into goo. As if you would want to leave.

Kaveh

You know Kaveh is a bit...eccentric to say the least. He always says what's on his mind and most of the time his thoughts are things he should keep to himself. Even you're not totally immune to his blunt honesty despite the fact he tries to watch how he phrases things when directed to you. He doesn't want to accidentally hurt your feelings, regardless if you know he means no harm. It's rather cute that for someone who doesn't care about what others think of him, he's a bit insecure around you. He likes you, really likes you, and he often finds himself plotting out what he's going to say hours before your lunch date with him. But as soon as you greet him with that charming smile and a brief hug, he turns into putty and whatever flowery language he conjured in his mind is swept away. The confident architect that graduated with honors is reduced to a red-faced mess of stumbling words. It doesn't help that you find it adorable enough to press a chaste kiss to his red cheek and he swears that he's going to pass out from a heat stroke.

He's both extremely glad and terribly conflicted that your love language seems to be touch. He loves it when you brush your fingers through his hair but it always lulls him into sleep so he doesn't get any work done. He loves it when you hug him tightly but then he never wants to leave so he doesn't get any work done. He loves it when you cup his cheeks and pull him into a kiss but then he goes in for seconds, then thirds, and so on that he doesn't get any work done. If he went into alchemy rather than architecture he would dedicate his life work to studying why you have the touch of an Archon that compels him so. But he didn't and now that he's drowning in debt, he really needs to concentrate and finish his work before the deadline.

So now he has the painful task of trying to find an extremely polite way of asking you to leave him alone without you taking offense and breaking up with him. He would be devastated if he couldn't see your loving gaze on him again. But the situation is dire because as soon as he sees you, all he wants to do is curl up in bed with you in his arms. Preferably forever but he'll cross that bridge when he gets there. But every time he tries to bring it up it only takes one look from you for him to stutter and wave off his words. He tries to pep talk himself and every single time he claims that this will be the day that he, very politely, pushes you off, it ends with him melting into goo and waking up the next day with all his untouched work judging him from the table.

It gets to the point that he begins to air his grievances to Alhaitham of all people. To be fair, he doesn't expect the scribe to listen to a word he says and if he did, it would only be because Kaveh needed to pay his share of the rent. But he's pleasantly surprised when you pop up with a guilty smile and that Alhaitham explained his circumstances to you. He tries to clear up the situation, he has no idea what Alhaitham said specifically but it must have been put in the worst way possible, but you take his hands and he shuts up immediately. You give him a light giggle that melts his heart and you tell him to call for you once he's completed his work.

It was the worst decision he's ever made. Second to moving in with Alhaitham. Maybe his judgment of you being an angel was a lie and you were secretly the devil from how often his thoughts were plagued by you. He could draw a circle and think of your eyes. He knows that he's smitten in your presence but he didn't expect that to double when he's suddenly alone. His only motivation is that as soon as he's finished, he'll be able to see you again. But his mind and his work bleed together and he ends up drawing your face instead of buildings and pipes.

He ends up locking himself in his studio and slowly deforming into slime with how awful he's taking care of himself. Alhaitham has to pry him from the table only for Kaveh to flop in his arms that the scribe gives up and hauls the corpse over his shoulder and makes his way to your home. Kaveh still needs to pay his share of the rent so he's not allowed to die before then.

When you opened the door you weren't expecting Alhaitham at your doorstep with Kaveh over his shoulder. He doesn't seem to want to be in this situation either because it looks like he's two seconds away from throwing your boyfriend across the room. But he manages to reign everything in front of you and quickly explains Kaveh's situation, dumping said man into your arms, and telling you to fix it. You shoot him an apologetic smile that he waves off, it's not like it's your fault, before turning around and making his way back to his own home.

"Kaveh?" you whisper gently against his ear to not startle him. It only takes him a second to register your voice before he's perking up and beaming at you. He easily shifts positions so you're in his arms instead. Twirling you around and using the momentum to tuck an arm under your knees and smoothly picking you up, somehow supporting your entire weight in one arm while the other closes the door. Sometimes you forget that Kaveh is really strong despite his lean stature. He is a claymore user after all.

"Darling! What are you doing here?" Kaveh questions while he makes himself at home. If only your living space was big enough for him to store all his work otherwise he would have moved in with you by now.

"Alhaitham mentioned that your recent commission was taking up all your time and you weren't taking care of yourself. Are you alright?" you ask, wrapping your arms around his neck to steady yourself while Kaveh takes his shoes and coat off. In these types of moments, no matter what you do or say he'll refuse to let you out of his arms. If he has to live with one arm then he'll gladly do so just so long as his other hand is wrapped around you.

"Never better," he replies with a smile. He's obviously lying given the dark circles under his pretty red eyes but the soft look he sends you is enough to tell you that right now, he's never been more comfortable. It makes you a bit flustered to have such an intense gaze on you but Kaveh is always forward with his affections and this isn't any different. With you in his arms, there's nowhere for you to run to when he tilts your chin down and brushes his lips against yours.

"Be still for me..." he whispers, the vibrations of his voice tingling against your skin as both of your eyes slowly close. Only for the moment to shatter by loud knocks on your door. You both jerk apart and turn to the disturbance with varying expressions. You're a flustered mess while Kaveh scowls as if the door offended his entire life's work. He finally sets you down on your feet and gives you a quick peck on the cheek. Before marching to the door, flinging it open, and telling the man on the other side to shoo before slamming the door in his face. Unless the world is ending, don't knock.

Ayato

To say Ayato works hard is an understatement. There are several nights when he's glued to his desk rather than resting in bed. Such are the woes of him being forever dedicated to his duties as the Yashiro Commissioner. On days when there are big events and everything needs to be perfect, he's nearly inconsolable that Thoma weighs how much he can get away with if he knocks Ayato out with a frying pan. His pondering doesn't go far because even though Ayato looks like a corpse from the lack of sleep, he'd probably knock Thoma off his feet before the housekeeper could even raise his arms. Ayaka has better luck but she's only able to drag him away for a few minutes before he points in a random direction to divert her attention before disappearing as soon as she turns back. It's just something everyone is aware of and they try their best to support Lord Kamisato. But if it starts to look really bad, like Ayato might drop dead at any second, then you're called in. The last defense and their ace up the sleeve. Not to brag or anything but you have a spotless record and you intend to keep it that way.

It only takes one word from you to have the dignified and cunning Ayato turn into a scared rabbit. His name. None of the wary calls of Lord Kamisato, a dismissal of his titles, and certainly not your affectionate terms of endearment. It always brings the temperature of the room to zero and Ayaka has to double-check that her cyro vision didn't accidentally activate. Unlike Thoma and Ayaka, you're not soft on him and you set your foot down when it comes to his extremes. One of the many reasons he fell in love with you but it's coming back to bite him now. He hates seeing you unhappy, doing anything possible to wipe that frown off your face, but when it's him that's making you so displeased he can't help but look like a scolded puppy.

It doesn't take much for you to know that Ayato has overworked himself to the breaking point again. You understand his duties mean that he's going to be riddled with work but you're his partner first and foremost. You're there to care about Ayato, not the Yashiro Commissioner. And Ayato looks like he's falling apart at the seams. Heavy eye bags, pale complexion, and his body swaying back and forth before he catches himself from falling over. It pains your heart to see him like this and yet still push himself to keep going. So you take one, two, and three steps towards him to delicately take his hand in yours, rubbing soothing circles into his palm before intertwining your fingers together.

Unlike Thoma and Ayaka, he doesn't disappear as soon as you take your eyes off him. Just stands there and stares dopily at you while you issue orders to take over his work. God, you look so attractive when you're in control. It's been a while since he's seen anything but paper and ink but did you always look this beautiful? He's so glad he's going to marry you. Maybe he can force the elders to move the ceremony date up. Everyone in the room politely ignores the fact that Ayato is saying these thoughts out loud and how red your face has gotten.

He doesn't object when you pull him out of the room with you, blindly following you wherever you happen to lead him by the hand. As long as your hand is in his, he'll follow you to the ends of the earth if you'll allow it. It's a bit comical how the dignified Yashiro Commissioner recedes into himself and crumbles away into a love-sick man just by a simple touch. At much as it makes you feel a bit shy, it's nice to know that Ayato won't try and weasel his way out of your grasp and return to his work.

If anything he clings to you like an onikabuto on a tree. You have to waddle your way to the baths with an oversized blue-haired man refusing to let go and draping himself over your back. You know he's making this as hard as possible on purpose, just do you can dote and pamper him a bit longer before he succumbs to slumber and has to return to work. It dampens his mood thinking of the future but it's quickly ushered away by the warm water poured over his head. It's fitting that his vision is hydro because he fits himself into the space you provide as you begin to scrub his hair clean.

There's something meditative about having his hair washed by your hands that no one else can replicate. It's a luxury that he only receives when he works hard enough that his arms hang uselessly at his sides and his body slumps into itself. Soft and malleable, completely willing to bend and mold in whatever shape you wish. But your hands scrub through his hair gently, rubbing all the stress out of his body and never complaining. Right now there's nothing else that matters more than being here with you and you with him.

"I'm going to rinse your hair out. Close your eyes now," you softly say and he follows your instructions. The rush of warm water is soothing to his ears although it sparks something in his memory that momentarily takes him out of this romantic moment. He reaches blindly behind him to take your hand, rubbing circles into your palm to halt your actions.

"It's just occurred to me but aren't you supposed to be on a trip to Watatsumi island?" he opens his eyes to peer up at you, his long eyelashes tipped with water droplets reminding you of just how pretty Ayato is. It's almost a good enough distraction for you to forget why exactly you're here rather than speaking with Kokomi right now. Almost.

"I was but someone had to go and work himself to death again. You need to take better care of yourself Ayato. I don't want to see Thoma running across all of Inazuma just to drag me back because you can't seem to sit still for a few seconds," your frown deepens with each sentence. Your free hand that's not in his grasp is knocking against his forehead, albeit not hard enough to cause any actual pain. He only chuckles before pulling you into the water with him until you're sitting on the edge of the bathtub. His head lay comfortably against your thighs.

"Apologies." He's not sorry at all. "When you're not beside me I have to throw myself into my work or else I may go insane."

"Oh so now all of this is my fault," you huff exasperated but he can hear the undertones of how happy that sentence makes you. "Come on, you'll catch a cold if we stay here any longer."

"Mmm, indulge me," he mumbles into your skin, his eyes closing once again with a content smile on his face. He doesn't need to see to know that you have an equally fond expression.

"Oh, so now my lord wishes to relax?"

"Only because you're here."

Alhaitham

You know that your relationship with Alhaitham is unusual to onlookers. You're both polar opposites and yet somehow stumbled into a rather healthy and committed relationship. To others, Alhaitham is a talented and intelligent man. The perfect bachelor if it wasn't for his "extraordinary sense of individualism" that he doesn't pay attention to people around him. He's notorious for being hard to get along with that not even his handsome face is enough for people to sit around for too long. Meanwhile, there's you. A wandering traveler who takes work whenever anyone needs an extra pair of hands. You're a bit well-known for accepting any job that pays well regardless of how dangerous or weird it might be. But unlike Alhaitham, you're more than happy to make conversation and you're often seen conversing with scholars from every one of the Six Darshans.

To everyone's knowledge, it's you that's the clingy one. You always have a hand around his arm or throw yourself at him shamelessly. Everyone assumes that Alhaitham tolerates it because he never pushes you off but he doesn't reciprocate affection to the degree that you do. If only those nosy scholars could see him now. Your newest job has you traveling to the Chasm to help collect and study the newly opened area. While the Chasm is close to Sumeru, a series of mysterious accidents led the entire mine to be closed. With the Liyue Qizing gradually reopening the area there's a lot of ground to cover. Alhaitham doesn't care much for the details except that this means you'll be away from him for a few years rather than a few weeks. As soon as you told him the expected date you'll return his face instantly soured. It was so cute that you couldn't help but press kisses to the corners of his mouth until they lifted. But one thing led to another and you're now trapped underneath his strong figure for the past couple of hours with no signs of him letting go. Every day you're gone equates to one minute he gets to keep you here.

No matter how much Alhaitham wishes to make you stay, even going so far as to bribe you, you eventually gather your things, press one last kiss to his lips, and leave him in his too-quiet house. He doesn't want to admit it but as soon as he closes the door he already feels lonely. But he'll learn to cope and continue with his life. He's been through more challenging obstacles and made it through. It's only two years, 3 months, 14 minutes, and 58 seconds. Alhaitham sighs and leans against the door. He's not going to make it.

Everyone else is content to whisper behind their hands about how the scribe seems to be more hostile. While Alhaitham doesn't have the most friendly personality, he's still somewhat polite until someone gives him a reason to exit the conversation. But now Alhaitham can barely get two sentences in before insulting someone. He doesn't even mean to do it on purpose, it just slips out. A girl who happens to share your eye color is met with a backhanded compliment that she should eat more fish. A man whose skin color is just a shade lighter than yours is met with an irritated scowl before he could even say anything. It's only now that people start to miss your presence because anything is better than a walking warning sign.

It only takes a few weeks for him to crack. He's not usually this starved of attention but the knowledge that he won't see you for another two years has him itching at his wrists. While on the outside there doesn't seem to be any changes, he's perfectly calm and collected, but his facade breaks when he starts making rash decisions. When he heard that his senior Kaveh needed a place to stay due to his financial situation, he offered to live with him much to everyone and his own surprise. Even Kaveh suspiciously asks why Alhaitham is being so generous. He doesn't dignify it with a proper answer, only that he better get his situation fixed within the next two years or the scribe is kicking him out.

As the second year rolls past, it's Kaveh who brings up Alhaitham's sudden mood change. He seems...excited. Kaveh chalks it up to Alhaitham being happy that Kaveh is finally moving out but that'd be kind of low even for someone like Alhaitham. As someone who cares about the arts and romance, there's a certain care in how Alhaitham cleans the house. Every systematic movement is laced with a longing gaze. His wrists are rubbed raw that Kaveh has to physically step in or he might rub so hard he reaches the bone. But above all the dangerous aura around Alhaitham is replaced with something Kaveh can only describe as restless patience.

"Honey, I'm home!" your happy voice is accompanied by the loud slam of the door crashing against the wall. Kaveh is startled by a random stranger entering their house but mostly at the term of endearment. Alhaitham only lowers his book at your voice before going back to reading. A bit rude in Kaveh's opinion but he can see the small smile that Alhaitham tries to hide behind the pages of his book. It's not like you aren't a bit devious yourself. So you retaliate by plucking the book out of his hands, taking a quick glance at his page number before placing it on the desk.

"Welcome back. I assume your job went well?" Alhaitham sighs as you kick his legs apart, plop yourself down into his lap, and rest your head against his chest. If you weren't so enthralled by the masterpiece that was Alhaitham's physique, you would have laughed at how the blond-haired man seemed to stare owlishly at the scene. His eyes almost fall out of their heads when Alhaitham doesn't push you off, doesn't throw you over his shoulder, or even make the slightest hint of being irritated or embarrassed. He just places his hands around your waist, rests his chin on your head, and sends an icy glare to which the blond-haired man scoffs before excusing himself. It's not anything different from what he usually does to onlookers although this is you and you can tell just how weary he is. How deeply he relaxes in your hold as the tension melts from his shoulders. How his eyes search over your body for any injuries that you might have gotten. It does look like you got a bit roughed up during your stay at the Chasm. Your hair is cut shorter than he remembers, you've put on some muscle, and there are a few nicks and cuts running along parts of your skin that are visible. But none of that matters because you're here. You're finally here.

"Aww, Haitham did you miss me?" you tease only to quickly eat your words when he manuever's you sideways so he can pin your back against the couch. You're hit with a sense of deja vu back to two years ago when you were about to leave for this trip.

"The next time you take a commission that lasts longer than two weeks, I'm coming with you or you're not going at all," he grumbles as he tucks himself into the crook of your neck with no signs of leaving. You laugh now but he's dead serious.

Dottore

You aren't sure when it started but at some point, you've been labeled as "Dottore's Favourite". He always seems to be the slightest bit nicer if you happen to be there, his voice a smidge less aggressive, and a lot more touchy. He's a Doctor first so he doesn't want to be contaminated by whatever bacteria people have gathered. But with you, he always seems to have a hand on you. Either harshly pinching your cheeks like a child with a crazed grin whenever you mumble something he deems stupid or pulling your arm of out its socket as he yanks you through the hallways of his lab. You act almost as his shadow, permanently glued to his feet and forced to follow wherever he goes.

You wouldn't consider yourself exceptional at your job but you did know how to listen. Perhaps it was your blatant disregard for your lack of safety since your head was always in the clouds that let you do your job with a steady hand. You don't blame your college's, it's hard to work under so much stress. If you had to do quantum physics and whatever the hell smart people do with someone who could, and would, kill you on the spot if you couldn't tell him what 3567 x 438 was on the spot, you think you could have exploded and crumbled on the spot. But you were just the ditzy receptionist who twirled a pencil on her nose more than on a paper. The only thing you were required to do was make sure Dottore was never bothered and let him know if anyone important needed his attention.

You've seen the Regrator the most compared to the rest of the Harbingers. You don't know what a banker needs from a doctor but you're not about to ask. It's not your business and you aren't paid enough to care about what your boss does. Besides, for such a handsome face his presence creeps you out which is saying something considering there's a maniacal doctor that treats human lives like numbers on a stats page. But since you are his "receptionist" you have to make conversation with him. Most of your interaction extends to him asking if the Doctor is in and you politely saying that he's out. You both pointedly ignore the loud crashes and angry yelling from one of his segments behind the closed steel door.

Once again, you don't consider yourself exceptional at your job. You're just a lousy receptionist at a place that doesn't require it and who spends all their time spinning in the office chair than doing actual work. You're just as replaceable as any grunt in this hell hole. So when Tartaglia waltzes through the doors, blinking at you with his dead fish eyes, before nodding to himself and hauling you out of your chair you can only hope that Dottore manages to remember that he has a meeting with Pantalone at noon.

You're hardly gone for an hour. Tartaglia was just bored, bored enough to come to Dottore of all people, that he happened to spot you who looked equally as bored. He just roughed you up a little before he deemed you completely useless and a horrible fighter before sending you back on your way. Seriously, if he wanted a fight he should have just picked one of the skirmishers instead of a damn receptionist. Although you may have to reconsider your position because as soon as you walk back into the lab, a girl is throwing herself at you and demanding where you've been.

You don't get the chance to answer before she's hurriedly running down twisting hallways, down the stairs, and punching in codes so complicated it looked like she was trying to make music out of them. Whatever questions you have are ignored in favor of getting you somewhere as fast as possible. It begins to make sense when you're finally shoved into a room, the girl who dragged you all this way throwing herself onto her knees and begging for forgiveness for letting you wander off.

The lab is an absolute disaster. This isn't the organized chaos you're acquainted with but the aftermath of a manic episode you're familiar with. Glass shards dripping with fluorescent liquid, research notes torn apart that flutter around the room as faux snow, and one mad doctor in the middle.

"Where have you been?"

For someone who destroyed years worth of progress, he sounds oddly calm and collected. His deep voice is firm while he fiddles with a test tube of blue liquid, watching it slosh around before placing it onto a broken table. He barely pays any mind to the girl currently on her hands and knees, forehead pressed to the ground while she glares at you to say something.

"Out," is your reply. A casual shrug of your shoulders even though the Dottore's back is to you. He's not wearing his usual white coat. That's too bad, you think it looks kinda cool. Really goes with his bird aesthetic.

"Out...out you say. Out. Out. Out," he mumbles softly, each time he say's the word "out", he taps the test tube harder onto the table. The lull in conversation only makes the pressure of the room drop lower before the tension snaps and he hurls the test tube at the girl still on her knees. It's only thanks to your reflexes that you manage to grab the collar of her uniform and throw her back just as the test tube collides with the floor, the liquid melting away the concrete where her head was. You can only give her a nudge and a look towards the door for her to scramble to her feet and flee as far away as she can. The slam of the door behind her acting as the nail in the coffin as Dottore's body seems to slump in on itself.

"Where have you been?" he asks again, running a hand through his messy hair. He sounds and looks far more tired, his fingers twitching to reach out and hold you but his pride stopping him. So you push yourself and step forward into his space, reaching your hands out to cup his face and rubbing soothing circles into his porcelain skin. He doesn't lean into your touch but he doesn't push you away either.

"Getting tossed around by Tartaglia. He came by saying he was bored and I just so happened to be there," you say absentmindedly, twirling the long lock of blue hair that hangs off the sides of his mask. He responds by snatching your wrist, squeezing hard enough until your bones creak. "Were you worried? Did you think I ran away?"

He doesn't dignify your question with a response. Simply shrugging your hands off his face before he reaches up to pinch your cheeks, a familiar cackle vibrating from his chest.

"As if you would have anywhere to go."

———

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thydungeongal · 8 months

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In general I'm of the opinion that the dice should only be rolled when the results actually matter, but like... sometimes players like to roll just for the sake of rolling. And it's not something I'm opposed to.

I've taken to calling this "rolling for color" to make it transparent to the player that ultimately the roll won't have a mechanical effect but that it will have an effect on the description. But also it's one of those things where I usually give the player a choice.

For an example, in a recent game I ran one of the players asked me if she'd need to make a roll for her character to gracefully make it to the bar in a crowded tavern. I told her that it was up to her: she could either choose to narrate how she got to the bar, adding as many twists as she liked into her narration, or she could roll purely for color and to aid in establishing how she did (to this end we used the maneuver table I had adapted from Rolemaster Unified into Lightmaster).

Because, like, while a lot of people are like "don't roll the dice unless necessary" sometimes players enjoy injecting a bit of randomness into those quiet moments when the mechanics aren't doing a lot of heavy lifting. But it's also good to ask players for when they want to roll: if one of your players is unironically enjoying playing Azrael d'Arkness who is too cool and edgy to fail, you don't try to bring them down a peg by asking them to roll to to rev up their motorcycle, unless the player also agrees that it would be funny to inject the possibility of Azrael humiliating himself into the situation.

#long post

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honeydazai · 2 months

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ok ok but hubby Fyodor gave me an idea, he’s figured out i get worried when his anemia gets bad so i fuss over him

imagine like,,, him using that against u. like if he’s losing an argument, or he just wants attention, he fakes sickness to get u to drop everything ur doing and come to his aid, u immediately feel bad so he uses that to manipulate u

feat.: Fyodor / reader

content: husband Fyodor, some manipulation but it's cute, Fyodor pretending to be a pathetic meow meow, fluff, sick fic

Fyodor is fragile, that much you're aware of.

Despite his quick mind, so sharp you reckon it could cut diamond, and his powerful ability, his physical body is still frail. His skin is pale, most likely since he spends too much time inside, hunched over in front of his many PC screens, providing him with no light other than the gloom of LED monitors, thin fingers tip-tapping away on the keyboard. His undereye circles are dark enough for you to seriously worry about his health, and the many blue veins visible on thin eyelids only make him appear more sickly.

The anemia doesn't help, either; thin lips occasionally turn whiteish the longer he insists he's going to take his iron supplements once he's done with work — when is he, ever? — and his nails, kept short not only for the sake of being able to play the cello, but also since he continued biting at them, are coloured blue so often you have almost forgotten what they usually look like.

Fyodor, despite being an internationally wanted terrorist, is fragile, and that's exactly why you're unable to stop the way your chest suddenly aches with concern when he goes quiet mid-argument, gaze unfocused, glassy, as he sits down on the bed.

This really isn't the time to worry about him, especially since, just a few moments ago, you were snarling at him, obviously angered for a reason that seems entirely unimportant right now — and yet you can't help it either, your concern an emotion that blooms in your chest so very naturally, given just how much he means to you.

“Are you alright?” The words leave your mouth before you know it; your brows furrowing as you kneel down next to him, one hand on his thin upper arm. Even through the fabric of his shirt, his skin is cold. “Do you need anything?”

“I'm quite alright, dear. I would hate to bother you, especially when you still seem to harbour disdain for me.”

Even his voice sounds frail. Guilt gnaws at your every bone.

“That's not—”, you protest, a feeble attempt, though you're quick to swallow the urge to start another argument down the moment he rests his head against the wall, eyes fluttering shut, ebony lashes against snow pale skin. “I don't 'harbour disdain' . I didn't even want to fight with you, it just — happened, but that's not important now. Let me help. Did you take your meds today?”

“Not yet, I'm afraid”, Fyodor says softly, and you're up on your feet almost immediately, making your way towards the kitchen to snag the offending pills, as well as a glass of water.

“You know you're supposed to take them daily with lunch.”

“That is merely to avoid forgetting them, to build a habit. The presence or absence of sustenance has no actual effect on them.”

Your eyes narrow. Fyodor allows a tired chuckle to leave his lips.

“Alright. I will try to take them regularly — for you, dear.”

Where, just a few minutes ago, you felt the urge to slap him with wrath — not that you ever would, not that you'd dare to, but the desire certainly is there whenever he acts all high and mighty, all-knowing, even around you —, your chest now tingles with warmth, with fondness. With love.

“Thank you. Are you feeling better already?” That's to be doubted, especially since he only took the pills a moment ago. Still— “Do you need anything? Maybe something to eat — yes, I bet you haven't eaten anything in a while now, too focused on work. You're impossible. Just lie down and give me a moment, I'll be right back.”

With those words, you vanish into the kitchen, already grabbing some vegetables. A quick soup is going to have to do.

Little do you know that, while you're busy worrying and fussing over him, there's a smile playing over Fyodor's lips ever so often, vanishing the moment you enter the room once more.

You really are too easy — though that's exactly what makes you quite this lovable.

OH. Oh, he would.. he so would... this is the most in character take ever...

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erosuguru · 9 months

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Trying my hand at angst, I don't like this but here you go fjsjfdj

Gojo misses reader and is a mitski fan here, sfw, 1.6k words

Satoru knew he was clingy, he knows he can be overbearing with you at times and you've constantly reassured him that it's one of the many qualities you like about him; you even called it cute and compared him to a lost kitten. However, the longer you're gone, the more stressed he gets, thoughts of worry plague his head if they go unanswered for too long—how you are doing? Is everything going smoothly? Did you eat a full proper meal? Are you sleeping well? He never had to worry for long because he would get an answer the next time he sees you, which would usually be the next few hours or the next day.

When you told him about a trip you had to take out of town to visit family and stay with them for a while, he only smiled and helped you pack as anxiety rattled in his chest— as if trying to bring your attention to it. he chooses to remain silent about his worries even after you tell him you'll be gone for over a week, even if every bone in his body is telling him to trap you in his arms and beg you to stay.

Clingliness be damned, he loved you too much to remain separated from you for over a week, let alone a day.

Dread crept at the back of his mind as you explained your trip, why you were going and when will you leave and return, the entire time Satoru tried to listen his mind would wander and begin to memorise your features as you spoke— the shape of your lips, the crinkle in your eyelids, the structure of your nose, god, did he tell you look beautiful? He couldn't recall if he did today.

".. so don't expect fast replies, okay?"

The dumbfounded expression quickly took over Satoru's features as he sat up, he remembered he mentioned he would call or text you if he gets lonely but after that his brain tuned out his surroundings as if preparing itself for a week of loneliness.

".. repeat that for me, Baby? Please?"

"I said the service is pretty bad at my grandparent's place, so don't expect fast replies."

Ah. He was in hell. He had to watch and help you pack, pretend as if this didn't bother him so you wouldn't cancel for his sake, he even saw you off and kept his goodbye short; a simple kiss, hug and a promise for you to stay safe and call him if anything happens. He would have been proud of himself had he not known how lonely the house would be without you.

For the first three days, the phrase "its just under two weeks" became a mantra Satoru would mutter to himself— from the moment he opens his eyes in the morning feeling the empty space next to him, the phrase is echoed in his head. He made the mistake of preparing two cups of coffee in the beginning forgetting you were off with family, that simple mistake triggers a domino effect; it causes him to remember to contact you, he checks his phone and finds messages sent from you in the wrong order, courtesy of terrible service.

Leaving the house did nothing to alleviate the anxieties floating in his mind about you, whenever he passes by a cafe he has to purchase your favorite item off the menu, this time he had to stop himself and double back from the door remembering the meal would rot away in the fridge before your return. Spotting anything remotely related to your interests activates a knee-jerk reaction where he turns to gesture and mention it to you, looking for the spark that would light up your features in excitement— but alas, you were not here.

The days were longer, the nights were colder, Satoru's love blooms whenever he's near you, and yet now that he's alone, his heart is heavy; an overgrown garden.

The week was over. It was finally over, and yet the torture continued. You specifically told him you'd be gone for over a week— he once again repeats to himself "just under two weeks.." Satoru feels tired, and he doesn't know why. Through his meals and activities throughout the days, he would usually share them with you. He wonders if you felt the same exhaustion.

Just as his eyelids began to weigh down from the exhaustion, his phone released melodious chimes. Satoru grunted in annoyance and sat up in the cold bed, tempted to crush the phone in his hand— was he not even allowed to dream of you?

'LOML💘 Calling...'

His heart soared to his throat, everything he wanted to say to you, threatening to spill out before he even tapped the green button. He hurriedly answered and brought the phone up to his ear.

"Hello? Satoru?"

"... Baby? Can you hear me?" He immediately wanted to make sure of the call's quality. He won't be swindled by fate.

"Oh, thank god- I've been trying to get a hold of you all week! How are you? Is everything okay? I'm so sorry I couldn't contact you." He could hear chatter in the back. "I'm with my cousin. We drove out to this convenience store, and the service is pretty good!— I mean, yeah, it's a little far, but..." You took a breath, speaking too quickly for your lungs to handle."I'm so happy I get to hear your voice, Satoru..!"

everything he wanted to say, you were saying it for him, Satoru knows he's clingy but when you return his clingliness it makes him believe that he was made for you— that he was truly loved by you.

Suddenly, the stress he felt from worrying about you, the overbearing silence of loneliness, your affections pouring to him through the phone, all of these factors shattered him; a sob choked him.

".. yeah - me too..!" Satoru hiccuped as he tried to wipe away forming tears. He can't be upset now. He has to be tough for you.

You didn't miss the sniffle that followed, setting your soda down in the cup holder of the car. You sat up briefly. "Honey? What's wrong?" Your cousin silently signalled they'll return into the store, not wanting to overhear a lover's quarrel. "Did something happen?"

Satoru shook his head, forgetting you couldn't see him. He swallowed the lump that formed in his throat. "No - no, I'm fine.. I'm just really happy to hear from you."

Silence filled the call, a moment ago he was preparing himself to yell at you, cry to you, beg you to come home— now he didn't know what to do with himself as he had everything he wanted listening to him on the other end.

"... Hon? I'm really sorry." He hated how you knew just what to say when he began to crack. "I love you, I promise I'll be home soon, okay?"

You love him. You love him. He felt guily; he finally had a chance to speak with you, and he cried and made you feel like the bad guy, made you apologize for wanting to spend quality time with family, does he even deserve you at this point?

"... okay." Is all he can muster, Satoru always sounds so full of life— but now he just sounds defeated, as if faced with a foe that he couldn't damage or evade whatsoever. It broke your heart.

Satoru traced shapes into the covers that he practically kicked off him when he saw your nickname flash on his phone screen, he began. "Baby?"

"Hm? Yeah?"

".. when you get home, I'm gonna be more selfish with you." His tone was serious. He couldn't help but smile when he heard you laugh. "You're already selfish with me!"

"Hey, I've been very emotionally vulnerable recently, okay?" Satoru felt like the usual dynamic of your conversations is slowly seeping back. It felt right, like finding something he thought he misplaced.

"I'm not complaining, hon. I actually love it." He heard you shuffle a bit. "I think you deserve to be a little selfish. You've been so good for me lately, haven't you?"

Of course, he should've expected this from you; you're his smart girl. Of course you would notice how strained he seemed before you went on your trip.

"I thought I hid it pretty well.."

"Satoru."

".. what?" He grew wary of your unimpressed tone. He didn't slip up, did he?

"You were listening to Mitski all week." Ah, your shared music subscription gave him away.

"She perfectly puts my emotions into words, okay? So sue me!"

"I know, hon! But you were listening to First Love / Late Spring. What was I supposed to think?"

The conversation continues, from Lyricism to current routines to favourite cafe desserts. For the first time in a week, Satoru felt safe and comfortable enough to sleep.

Your conversation lulled him to a sleepy state, he could hear you shuffle and move about, he could hear the car start, your family commenting on your dynamic with him, even if the sound was minimised as the phone speaker was only moderately audible, as long as he could hear your voice then he was happy.

"So, either Wednesday or Tuesday..?" Satoru asked groggily after you explained your situation.

"Yeah - I'm hoping Tuesday, but we don't know yet, I'll drive back to the convenience store and tell you once I know." It sounded like a joke, but he knows you would do it.

"Baby- no, I can wait, I swear—"

"Can you, though?" He could hear the smile in your voice, Satoru let out a breathless laugh.

"... nah, I don't think I can."

#eewwww........... vomits #satoru gojo x you #satoru gojo x reader #satoru x reader #gojou satoru x reader #gojo satoru x you #gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #jjk x y/n #jjk x reader #jjk x you #gojou satoru x you

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monicahar · 2 years

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drunken nights.

when they get a bit too wasted...

characters; cyno, scaramouche, tighnari, kazuha, nilou, shenhe

; gn! reader, alcohol/drinking, established relationship, slight nsw themes of scara's hehe, this is so unnecessarily long

if you somehow manage to get this man to drink away his burdens, CYNO would be the goofy type of drunk. usually, he'd keep his jokes to himself, waiting for an opportunity to insert them in a conversation. but when he's utterly besotted, that boundary completely disappears into thin air. think of it as a barn of chickens, once his mental capacity is impaired due to drinking, all those chickens escape, about to enforce chaos. you and your friends now have to listen to his horrible jokes throughout the entire night, even if they have no correlation to the topic of the conversation whatsoever. it also doesn't help a bit that he contagiously cackles at all of his jokes. his soar laughing fills the entire table with a sense of melancholy. even after you both get home, he's still cracking horrible jokes whilst you're trying to shove water down his throat.

“hey, hey, [name], do you know why I love you so dearly?” you stay quiet, minding your own business until he suddenly wraps his arms around you—earning a small yelp as he breaths down your ear. “because you're perfect.” “cyno...that's not even funny...” you struggle to surpress the incoming blush. “it's not a joke, you walnut...”

if SCARAMOUCHE ever entertains the thought of getting drunk to momentarily forget his burdens, he'd probably only want to do it alone with you. which is why you're both now in his inazuman-styled bedroom, cups of sake in each other's hands as you both quietly talk just about anything, throwing in some insults here and there because we know how he is. i see him becoming almost becoming a completely different person when drunk. he's more chill, and is definitely a lot more talkative than when he's sober. “i saw a cat today, it reminded me of you.” you lean onto his shoulder, feeling the headache already. “was it mean to you?” he throws a slight glare. “bingo. it was cute though. much like you.” he doesn't have the heart to get mad at the moment. not because he's drunk or anything, but because of how grazing hot your skin is against his. both of your kimonos are loosened due to the growing heat of the room.

he catches a glimpse of your bare shoulders and collarbone, a canvas ready for him to paint with...ahem. suddenly feeling a carnal desire burn inside him, he quickly shifts his position, looking more carefully at your flushed face, dilated eyes as you breath heavily. “kuni, is it just me or is it getting warmer—” you're unable to finish talking as he crashes his lips onto yours. good night ;)

TIGHNARI would be too refined and busy for such activities, so i will use his status as a researcher to my advantage. he's come across a wide variety of plants, but one of your favourite discoveries of his would be that one particular mushroom that enacts alcoholic symptoms upon a living being that consumes it. you both come across it during an expedition, and unsurprisingly—he wants to see its capabilities, ordering you to record it's effects, and to bring him back to ghandarva ville if it turns out serious. he chews on it, slightly grimacing at the taste before he says he feels nothing. making sure to take a sample, you both trudge home just in case it has delayed effects. his guess was right it seems, much to his dismay. you remind yourself to record the effects as he had instructed, but...he's so cute! you can't help but coo at his flushed state, clinging onto your waist as he babbles about nonsense.

“okay, tighnari...i have to write your paper, let go of me for a bit...!” you freeze when he slightly growls in annoyance, tightening his grip on you. his tail wags when you start rubbing his ears, “no...forget it for now...it's just some alcoholic shroom anyways...” “it could turn out more serious, you know?” “don't care...just stay close to me.” he says that, but the very next morning—he's now scolding you for getting distracted from your objective. you had it coming.

we've all seen it. the legendary drunk KAZUHA during the golden archipelago event. he's canonly a slurring mess when drunk, much contrary to his usual poetic self. he leans onto your shoulder, hugging your arm as he coos at how “beauti'fuuul” you are. you can hear venti snicker in the background, earning him a glare from you. he raises his hands in defense and winks, "ehe, he's really intoxicated, isn't he? not just by the beverage, but by you as well." "how romantic!” xinyan cheers. deliberately returning your gaze towards your drunked lover. “kazu, it's time to go home. stand up for me will you?” you attempt to pull him up, but you're surprised to see that he immediately shoots up from his seat, swaying a bit from his dizziness. “hehe, anything'fo my super amaziiiing luvwer...” it reliefs you to know that he still recognises you despite not being fully rational at the moment. arriving at the inn you both rented a night for, you clean him up before plopping down on the bed, exhaustion taking over your sense as he suddenly crawls over you.

“kazu, you need to sleep early. we have a trip tomorrow...” he pays no mind to what you said, leaving butterfly kisses on your neck as you tremble under his hold. this is escalating a bit too fast, you think as you slightly lean back. “mm, i'll sleep, dun' worry...” he hums, muttering an apology onto your neck before snoozing off. what a handful.

as a renowned dancer in sumeru, NILOU is often invited to many parties or celebrations. after dancing for her audience, she'd of course get invited by people to their tables, in hopes of getting to compliment her for the amazing performance. she never drinks alcohol though, choosing to drink juice to maintain her composure and image. except for that one time you were getting forced to drink, but obviously didn't want to so she drank a cup in your stead, earning howls of laughter from your fellow buddies. “how bold of you.” you tease her, causing her to blush. “it's just—you seemed uncomfortable so...” “you're lightweight though. will you be alright? sorry in advance if this gets you in trouble with your manager.” ahhh. :D she completely forgot about that part. raising a brow at the way her expression freezes, you giggle at her usual airhead self. “don't worry. i'll explain it to them in person.” you hold her hand as she starts to sway, her eyes staring to close from the headache that's already growing. that cup of sake was probably a bit too much for what she can handle.

as she's currently freed from her subconscious need of containing her image, she's now smiling like an idiot as she leans onto you, hugging your waist as she nuzzles her face onto your neck. her thoughts are eventually blurred as she starts doze off, only thinking about the way you smell very nice.

someone who you'd never expect to be a fun drinking buddy would be SHENHE. the line that her red seal creates between her soul and her emotions are blurred when she gets intoxicated. choosing to get drunk with you would mean she's intentionally dropping her guard around you, wanting you to see a more vulnerable side of hers. "i often wondered if me having an adeptus's diet would affect how alcohol would take effect in my body. turns out, no...this drink is a dangerous weapon.” you snort at the seriousness in her tone, “yes, very dangerous indeed.” she perks up all of sudden. “your laugh just now.” you blink at her statement. what was wrong with your laugh? you tilt your head, beckoning her to continue. “it was very...cute...? is that how you use that word?” “you only found it cute just now?” you say with a false expression of hurt. “i never thought you to be so cruel with me shenhe...” she tilts her head much like you did earlier. “i've always thought it was 'cute'. i have to constantly tell you?”

you slightly pout, “yes. you do. i want affirmation from you too, you know.” and with that, she suddenly stands up, leaving her cup at her side of the table as she makes her way towards you, abruptly leaning down as she awkwardly cradles your face with her hand. you can smell the alcohol from her lips as your breath hitches. “[name], you're cute.” the words come out more stiff than she intended, but you still found it heartwarming nonetheless.

#tighnari x reader #cyno x reader #scaramouche x reader #kazuha x reader #nilou x reader #shenhe x reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact imagines #genshin impact headcanons #genshin x reader #har❗fiction

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incomprehensiblegiberish · 3 months

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(Note: This has an edit at the bottom providing context and clarification, please read that as well) Because its an election year and I keep thinking about this, I would like to remind everyone,

THE PRESIDENT DOES NOT MAKE LAWS THAT WILL EFFECT YOUR LIFE SEVERELY

The president does not even MAKE LAWS. The president can VETO a law, but the real people voting for specific laws are voted in STATE ELECTIONS.

If you want change in your life by the government, you have to vote in LOCAL, AND STATE ELECTIONS

I repeat

LOCAL AND STATE ELECTIONS ARE TO PICK WHO MAKES LAWS FOR YOUR STATE AND WHO REPRESENTS IT.

I am sick and tired of seeing people complain about the amount of old people in the government. You have to VOTE. If younger people vote, younger people are more likely to get elected, and then the voting pool is larger. Old people are going to vote for other old people, and they are the only ones voting in state elections therefore, old white men are the only ones represented. You have to vote if you want an accurate representation in your government. The president doesn't do shit regarding laws (other than being able to veto laws). Thats military. Not laws. Get it together, this is an elementary level skill. Its literally taught in the 5th grade, how people don't understand that is beyond me.

VOTE IN STATE ELECTIONS FOR FUCKS SAKE THAT IS HOW YOU GET LAWS PASSED THAT YOU WANT.

The president is only important in regards to MILITARY. The president is commander in chief of MILITARY. Not laws. If you want the US to stop supporting a certain country, vote for someone that agrees or is at least the better option (Damn the two-party system). If you want a law passed to protect your rights, vote for senators and representatives that want to protect your rights. Please for the love of god, so much could be fixed by voting. The system is broken yes, but it is not the only one to blame, go vote for the love of god I swear. EDIT: I would like to clarify some things. This is meant as a GENERAL STATEMENT. The president CAN do things that affect you severely, but GENERALLY the president is not in charge of laws that severely affect people day to day as the laws that the president deals with are for the ENTIRE COUNTRY. And therefore, are usually less specific. This does not mean presidential voting is any less important, that is the opposite of what this post was saying. This post is because the presidential elections seem to be the only one people vote in. And its good that people vote in this, but the issue this is mainly from is the fact that state and local elections are overlooked constantly, and then people complain about how the government doesn't provide representation when no one is going to vote. I am not saying the president doesn't do things, the president is important, but we can't forget about the part actually responsible for making laws in states and in the federal government. I see so many posts about how laws are being made by people who no one (at least over the internet) seems to agree with, and people complaining about how horrible the government is and how many old people are in there. And I agree, there's too many old people past retirement age in the government making laws and other things, but in order to get them out of the government, people must vote for other, younger people. Its not just going to be fixed by screaming about things over the internet. This post is not going to fix anything, it was a rant because I am pissed about this.

This is likely going to be the only update I add to this, I will not be responding to anything stated about this post, or put into reblogs. I am not in the habit of discussing politics with people and I don't plan on getting a start any time soon. I hope you all have a good day and thank you for coming to my rant I felt the need to throw here

#us politics #rare political posting from me #but this needs to be said #important #i know this is really weird from this blog #but it really needs to be said #I see people all screaming about the president #but no one talks about the importance of voting for your senators or representatives #but everyone complains about old people in the government #only together can we make it look less like a nursing home bingo night at congress

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naomihatake · 5 months

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Solitude

you can find other zoro fics here: Naomi's archive

pairing: zoro x fem reader

tags: hurt/comfort, fluff, consumption of alcohol

summary: One would expect the swordsman to unwind after a battle, but there are times when he can't help but think. Alcohol doesn't always come in handy when a specific crewmate he grew fond of cuddled a tad bit too close to his heart.

word count: 3.3k

theme song: 'Daylight' by David Kushner

A/N: It can be imagined with both anime and opla Zoro. I don't know if he's slightly ooc or not, but I genuinely wanted to dig into this side of a relationship with the swordsman. The awkward times when he's getting used to it and simply accepting everything as a new part of his life.

I didn't forget about my multi chapter fiction, I just didn't find the inspiration for the 8th chapter. I couldn't help but write this for my own comfort and I want to mention that this original art of @tea917339 inspired me (check it out, it's absolutely amazing!!!)

I'm always open for your opinions and comments, so don't be shy about sharing your thoughts with me! <3

Usually, nights with the Straw Hats were lively, even after battles that left the crew members injured and bleeding. They would pick each other up and cheer up by simply bickering — that's what Zoro thought.

The same way Luffy's hand extended to help him back on his feet after he plopped down on the ground to rest. The same way Zoro reassured Chopper after the kid tried his best not to get emotional afterwards. The same way Sanji threw some remarks and the swordsman spat back in annoyance. And, for fuck’s sake, Nami reminded him for the tenth time that day he owes her berry for something he completely forgot about. Usopp was sighing in relief every time he remembered they escaped with life again while Robin agreed with a soft smile on her face. Truly, it was almost insane — Zoro wouldn't exactly call that a miracle because he's doubtful of its existence.

However, he couldn't bring himself to cheer up once the celebration of their victory was over and everyone went into their rooms. He was on the night watch and all he found himself capable of doing was burying in memories of all kinds, be it happy or not. With not enough alcohol in his system yet, it was rather hard to push those thoughts into the back of his head.

The swordsman sat on the deck, his back resting against the wooden cabin. Hidden from prying eyes, he found peace in the temporary silence. Rare were the times when the crew was so peaceful and it was usually during the night, when they were asleep, because otherwise they would've caused a mayhem.

The side of his mouth curled upwards at that thought. It was equally annoying and endearing, since in the months spent with them he found a lot of things about himself. Like the fact that he found his crew to be a family, like the way he sometimes found peace even in the chaos caused by them.

Or like the presence he grew way too fond of along the way. That witch — she truly was one, judging by the effect she had on him. Only a spell could've made his mind get so clouded, only some unknown force could've managed to soften his edges so well. She joined the crew from the first day and he believed that a spell had been casted upon him since the first time they gazed at each other.

Right. Zoro gulped down. The effect she had on him was equally annoying and pleasant.

Annoying because he should've focused on his promise to Kuina, not get lost in between fairytales. He wasn't by any means the charming prince riding a white horse and he didn't intend on becoming one anytime soon. It filled him up with feelings unknown to him. Zoro might be a fan of adventures and he had rather insane ideas — as one might say —, but such sentiments were an entirely new path to walk on.

First and foremost, it bothered him the fact that he wasn't sure he could fulfill both his promises and whatever the fuck was going on between him and the witch. He couldn't pinpoint what was happening, it was all in a blur, even if everything was clearing up whenever he saw her.

That's when he's reminded why he likes their relationship — what kind of, he didn't know. When he saw her, there were always sparkles in her eyes and the smile on her face would grow wider, lines of happiness appearing on her cheeks. The curl of her lips would make his heart skip a few beats and he would relax his shoulders unconsciously. Eyes filled with joy looked at him as if he was the very reason behind her purest sensations.

Also, not to mention how warm the depths of his chest felt when she was near. The heat would rise to his cheeks, which he sometimes found uncomfortable, but Zoro never ran away. A side of him wished so badly to go the other way and never look back, ignore her and those stupid damned feelings, but he never gathered enough courage to do so. Every single time, he would remain stuck, with his eyes stuck on her frame and fingers aching to touch and lips tingling to kiss.

God fucking dammit.

With a curse rolling off his tongue casually as he closed his eyes, the back of his head collided with the wooden wall he rested his back against. Zoro sat with his knees bent and feet planted onto the floor, only his Wado Ichimoji in his proximity. With its hilt glued to his shoulder, the sheathed sword was in between his fingers. By that time, he held it for comfort.

If that's what he could call it. The swordsman wasn't sure what else to associate it with. Or was it familiarity? The white sword was the only memory he had of a long lost friend and his first home at the dojo, by the side of his sensei. It was the only object tying him to his past, to his beginning, to times when he was much weaker, but determined nonetheless.

To care about his promise was familiar. Zoro wouldn't give it up — proof was the simple fact that he still achieved to become the strongest swordsman in the world. One day, he will meet Mihawk again and when he does, he will be stronger than the first time he encountered him at Baratie.

Looking back, it's been so long since. So long since a new life appeared before his eyes and he accepted it with no hesitation. He was a pirate, a Straw Hat, Luffy's first mate. The swordsman swore to help his captain achieve his own dream.

Those promises were familiar. The erratic heartbeats caused by the witch weren't. The sensation settling in the pits of his stomach when her gentle fingers would brush over his arm weren't. It was foreign and it didn't sit well with him.

Kuina.

He still saw her face in his dreams sometimes and it was usually her ghost haunting him. Other times, in her place would be one of his friends and each time it was harder to fall asleep.

When awake, memories of her replayed so vividly in his mind. Swords clashing together and whistling as they cut the air in half. A grin brightening up Kuina's face when he would fall on his butt and cuss her out again. They promised that one of them would become the greatest, but he was the only one capable of that, because her bones lay in a grave somewhere far away.

Zoro opened his eyes and stared at the night sky with scars scattered all over it. A calming view, even if there was tumult inside of him, hidden in between ribs that broke with each new pump of his heart. His brown eyes fell to the floor and he crossed his arms on top of his knees, gripping the sword tighter. His chest puffed up with air when he inhaled and he let out a heavy sigh.

“Zoro?” a soft whisper made him jump out of his thoughts.

The swordsman snapped his head and he was greeted by the sight of someone he didn't even know he was searching for. A side of him wished to say something along the lines of “fuck off” while the other side desperately wanted to soak into her presence.

A witch, indeed.

His eyes ran up and down her figure. She didn't seem surprised to find him there, in a rather hidden spot, which meant she didn't search for too long. Did she even search for him or did she also wish to be alone for a while? The first place to search for someone during night shifts was the crows nest.

She held two bottles of what he guessed to be alcohol and she swung them carefully before stepping closer. His chest tightened and he found it harder to breathe, even if it was inevitably easier than before at the same time. For some reason, she had that effect on him.

Maybe he knew that reason all too well, but he just avoided thinking of it.

“You told me we'd drink something together,” she reminded him in that warm voice of hers.

The sweet melody that calmed his nerves.

He didn't know what kind of energy radiated off him, but her behavior was far more gentle than usual. She wasn't hesitant, the witch never hesitated around him, she was just mindful of her actions and words.

He didn't know why for a second he saw understanding in the curl of her lips when she crouched down. Unconsciously, Zoro knitted his eyebrows together in confusion at her gestures.

The bottles hit the floor and she let go of them. Her eyes sparkled like they always did, but there was something different that time — a warmth they held only when she comforted Chopper or encouraged Usopp. Warmth similar to the shy rays of the sun of the morning, when the cold is still lingering and there's a specific scent in the air. Gentleness he only ever saw in her, because Luffy's kindness was different.

A warmth so humane that was visible for the crew alone or those in need of it.

The witch recognized something in his demeanor and Zoro had no clue what that was about. He could only see it in her gaze.

“I suppose it isn't really the perfect time for me to butt in, hm?” she whispered.

Like a promise only for him to hear. A secret.

“How'd you find me here?” he found himself speaking before he thought it through.

The question made her shrug.

“I pick up easily on your energy. It's quite unmistakable, y'know?”

There it was — one of the main reasons why she had the nickname of Witch both on the ship and outside of it. She's spoken about that for a few times and he had to admit he understood what she meant. However, the swordsman only felt those “energies” (as she liked to call them) in specific moments. He remembers that time in Lougetown when everything felt like energy instead of palpable objects, the reason why he won that fight.

Sometimes he seriously wondered if she hadn't met his sensei at some point in her life.

“What is it like?” once again, he asked before thinking.

The witch pulled her lips in a tight line and hummed, gathering the right words to describe it. Her gaze bounced around and she grimaced once, when she probably found her choice of words to be unpleasant or inappropriate — she always scrunched her nose when it was difficult to find the proper terms.

“It's sharp, but warm. Kind of steady, constantly flickering. For example, Luffy's energy is always all around the place and Chopper's gets out of control easily. Robin has the steadiest energy of all of us, even if it was kind of… strange lately.”

Zoro arched his eyebrow at the last piece of information and only received a hand waving through the air.

“Ignore the last part, I'm still figuring it out myself. No need to worry.”

The swordsman knew the energy she was talking about was different than what he felt when she was in presence, but he wondered if whatever laid in her heart interfered with her ability to distinguish his being from the others.

He watched as the witch looked at the bottles next to him and then clicked her tongue, deep in thought.

“I don't know if they'd help you tonight, but I'll let you be.”

None of those words were accusatory. They were all coming from a place of kindness and patience.

Suddenly, her fingers curled around his bicep, below the bandana wrapped around his arm. Skin on skin, her touch was hot and pleasant, even if very confusing.

What was she thinking?

His puzzled feelings were written on his face. Uncertainty laid in his dark brown eyes and his fingers held onto the sword tighter. He didn't even notice when the grip on his Wado Ichimoji loosened up.

Her gaze was reassuring as ever and she gently rubbed her thumb into his tensed muscles.

Zoro had to at least admit to himself that vulnerability was uncomfortable. Without spoken words, she picked up on it.

“I don't know for sure if I'll get to sleep tonight, so you could cut your night shift in half.” She's having issues with nightmares again? he silently wondered. “I'll be in my room, reading. Do what you see fit.”

Instantly, she was back on her feet with her back straight and walked away. The swordsman didn't know what happened or what he should understand.

He was utterly and completely confused. What just happened?

Oh. The witch gave him space and time to think. She also told him where she was in case he decided to grip at the promise of comfort and hold tightly onto it. The opportunity laid right in front of him and he was the only one to decide whether he used it to his advantage or not.

Zoro didn't notice when his shoulders relaxed. His body wasn't as tense as a few minutes ago, his back didn't feel as stiff. The exhale he left wasn't heavy anymore.

The swordsman knew what this was about. Maybe it was the time to just accept his feelings and get on with it. He had to suck it up and deal with it, even if dealing with her wasn't the right way to word it out. It always felt more like she was dealing with him.

With closed eyes, he remembered the last time her lips brushed by his. Gosh, it was so hot and his blood was bubbling like lava in his veins. It wasn't an accident, he intended on kissing her back with fever, but he had a hard time accepting everything. It was… weird. Facing that reality was troublesome.

She has yet to lose her patience. The witch remained firm and each one of her questions were answered by gestures instead of words — something familiar for him. She was far more skilled with expressing herself even when sensitive topics came up.

That was a miracle. Her presence alone could be compared to a miracle because it was completely unexpected and somehow always caressing him the right way. It was scary how accurately she could read him and the same applied to him.

The sky before his eyes continued to sparkle with stars and he remained still in his place. His fingers caressed the scabbard of his sword as he blinked in the darkness, the chill air of the night invading his lungs.

It was complicated and so simple at the same time. Zoro knew the answer — he just had to come to terms with it.

Just as age promised, the witch sat on the bed in her room with a blanket warming her up. The lamp on the nightstand by her side casted a golden light over the pages of a book sitting in her lap. It was hard to focus on the story — a captivating part of pirate's history, sometime before the appearance of Gold D. Roger.

Her thoughts were followed by the swordsman. Zoro's mood was… sad at best. She didn't expect to find him in that state, but she quickly came to the conclusion that leaving him alone might do him good.

She tapped her finger over the pages of the old book and clicked her tongue. Was it right to leave him? The witch never saw him in a similar mood and she also realized she didn't know how to help him. There could be a lot of ways to bring him back to earth or at least keep him afloat. Those ways were only known by him. All she could do was guess and hope for the best outcome.

Heavy footsteps echoed on the other side of the door. When it opened wide, there was Zoro's tall silhouette, his white sword in his hand and one bottle of alcohol in his other. He came closer, his face hard as a stone. The pink hue painting his cheeks was the only detail giving away the fact that he drank one of the bottles she brought hours ago.

“Why aren't you sleeping yet?” he said with a gruff voice as he plopped down on the mattress.

There were only a few hours left before the sun would rise up from the sea.

“You've probably guessed already,” she averted her eyes from his figure.

“Nightmares again?”

The witch only nodded, eyes focused on the book. Zoro let the sword against the couch.

“I won't fall asleep, so you could as well take a night off,” only then she looked at him again.

His darkened eyes have been locked on her since he entered the valley. The witch wanted to move, to eventually get away from his knowing gaze, but she knew there was no possible way to do it.

“Are you alright?” she blurted out.

She had to fill that silence with some kind of conversation. Maybe that wasn't exactly the wisest decision, considering his shoulders visibly tensed and he straightened his back. A frown appeared on her face. She regretted talking.

The witch figured out he needed more time to sort his thoughts.

“Why don't you go to sleep?” she tilted her head to the side. “The fight has worn us all out. You could rest for a while.”

“And you?”

“We'll be sailing for a few days. I can sleep ‘till afternoon.”

“Nothing will happen for as long as you're on this ship with us,” the reassurance slipped so easily. “Do you trust us?”

“More than anything,” the witch responded with a faint smile.

Several weeks ago, her answer and reaction would've been so different. She made so much progress since she first met them, her trust now fully laying in their palms. Long ago, she would've backed away at such a question and, if they were lucky enough, the witch would admit she “needs time to adjust”.

At first, all he did was lean close enough for his shoulder to touch hers. The swordsman only intended to enjoy some peace while he shared his booze with the witch. From time to time, she'd gulp from the bottle and then give it back to him before continuing her lecture. After each two minutes, the room would be filled by the rustling of pages.

It didn't last long until he fell into her trap and tiredness dragged him glued to her. With his head in her lap, Zoro bumped his nose in her thigh. The witch's fingers ran through his hair and he let out an audible exhale, eyes closing instantly. Greeted by darkness, he felt warm not only on the inside. The blanket she curled around herself earlier was now covering his upper body as he sunk into the soft mattress and her.

One of his hands curled around her knee and he dug his fingers into her flesh. Her leg jerked slightly at the unexpected touch, but when he tried to move away, she muttered a sweet “It's okay”, stopping his movements.

The oxygen in his lungs was exchanged with her perfume and he bit back a groan. Her voice was like a lullaby, even if there weren't many words rolling off her tongue. Zoro wasn't bothered by the light of the lamp, completely forgetting about the world around him once her fingers continued running through his hair.

His hand traveled up, until it fully rested on her thigh, the warmth of her body seeping through the thin material of her pants. Truth be told, he's never felt better.

She was a remedy. His remedy.

“Good night.”

Zoro heard her whisper solely because he was near her; otherwise he would've confounded it with the night breeze.

Maybe giving in to her affection isn't that bad.

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ginnysgraffiti · 5 days

Text

jealousy, unprotected sex, violence, anger, cursing, fingering, 18+

&. PAUL ATREIDES x yn

could you blame yourself?

no, not really.

not the way you claimed it, at least.

you always placed so much trust and respect in the visions that paul witnessed in his dreams, for they usually concerned the holy war or future events not clear to his complete awareness yet.

however, you never expected something like this.

you couldn't say exactly if it was due to the fact that you and paul had established an increasingly stronger connection and intimacy, but you were sure that it was definitely because of other factors.

paul and his intuitions had been (disturbingly) accurate for weeks, and your boyfriend was even able to see your sexual needs in his visions.

you liked it, yes. it turned you on like hell, and you knew it had the exact effect on him.

you recognized paul's gaze when he had visions of that kind, you glimpsed it through his hungry eyes and you experienced it when his strong hands destroyed your body.

you lived with a certain constant tension, but your inner self knew that you just wanted that moment to come.

"shut that fuck up! take my cock like the slut you are!!" paul's hand slapped your butt, causing a bitter tear to fall from your face.

this excited him greatly and with his other arm he twisted your legs around his waist, making you arch your back to welcome his wet and warm dick as deeply as you could.

you didn't know if it was your fault, but paul was so furious he would have swallowed you alive.

"look at me in my eyes, damn it! or do you want me to call him, uh? to call your beloved feyd rautha and make him fuck you like i do!?"

"paul-"

yet another thrust of his hips brought your hip bones to clash painfully with each other.

you left a loud and pleading moan but his quick fingers choked you in time and reduced it to a pathetic strangled scream.

"who's the one who touches herself while feyd's name slips down her tongue?! her damn fucking tongue! uh?!"

"p-...paul it was just a-a...a vision-"

deadly move.

the bed creaked and for a moment you imagined the springs surrendering to its bloody rhythm.

your boyfriend grabbed your hair mercilessly, almost detaching them from the roots, while his cock was destroying your inner walls beyond limit.

you were crying, but you were just choking on your own moans and sobs, like a sinful child.

it was just a vision, in fact...but now he was going so rough and raw that crying more made you feel real slut.

your sight was still granted to you, even if your retinas were caged in tears as hot as spice.

you could see him, see your boyfriend taking your pussy with a heavenly expression on your face, perhaps the one you wore in his dirty visions.

his mouth was wide open with pleasure and his eyes closed with excitement. he moved his hips for his own burning pleasure, making you aching, sore and wet all in.

"I don't know what would turn me on more, maybe you really deserve to end up in his maniacal arms! you would regret it of course, but it would be too late to go back!!"

you wished somebody could hear you for your own sake.

the wet and sticky tip of his cock was roaming roughly inside you, but the initial pleasure had reduced you to an unbearable burning sensation. you could feel your chest confiding with every sob, but his hands would travel again, landing on your throat already full of purple, almost black bruises.

"you're so soaked, you little whore. you don't even deserve it, on my sheets!!" he groaned, his own anger causing every vein to pump on the smooth skin of his neck, making him there red with anger every time the jugular pumped before your eyes.

he grunted like an animal too proud for the zoo. he wanted to destroy you until you couldn't stand up anymore.

humiliation.

you could feel his tip reaching the deepest places. you knew that paul didn't care about protections in these extreme cases (even if it was the first time he was so out of it), thus implying that he would even risk pregnancy to satisfy his dick to the point of nausea.

"you hold on too well-"

you held the sheets for dear life when you felt him pushing away but replacing his sex with one of his agile fingers between your sores.

you gasped as he pecked at all the soft spots of yours. he knew too damn well you were too vulnerable and breakable when it came to his experienced hands.

at the same time you knew how much effort would be required of him to make you suffer precisely, hoping he would get tired.

"so fucking sensitive-"

he inserted another finger, moving at an exorbitant speed. you could feel your wetness even reaching his wrist.

ashamed again.

"p-paul-...i beg-"

he entered you using his thumb to reach your clit.

you moaned as he lapped at your walls, sliding his sizzling tongue into the heat.

he raised his lips sucking greedily, sliding two fingers in once more.

his grunts made everything wetter.

your body came moaning and shaking, your eyes rolling back.

you whimpered as you felt his cock filling you up, preventing you from coming any further.

"p-...paul, you know you're...the only one i love! a vision doesn't mean anything! i-...i- had always loved you, you're the boy of my life, the one who always had all his trust posted about me. so i ask you praying...believe me..."

your boyfriend moved one inch, hitting your weakest and most stimulated point.

you could feel a slight gag rising in your sore and dry throat as the last bit of lucidity left your body in a deep sleep.

[...]

when you wake up a strong pang pierced your forehead, making the room square and moving around you.

paul was curled up on you, not completely resting on you so that his weight didn't give you even more trouble regaining consciousness.

his white and puffy cheek was resting on your bare breasts, a hint of saliva at the sides of his red and swollen mouth.

you couldn't move so you didn't even try, until you felt something holding you back.

paul was lightly sleeping thanks to a bene gesserit relaxation technique, you could now sense that he was completely alert and attentive to your needs.

his delicate hand was hugging your wrist, listening to your heartbeat since you had probably passed out.

you knew that in the end, he loved you more than anything on that planet.

you were his duchess already.

#timothee chalamet #timothée chamalet #timothee chalamet smut #timothee chalamet imagine #timothee chalamet x reader #timothee x y/n #timothée x you #dune part 2 #dune movie #dune #paul atreides #paul atreides x reader #paul atreides smut #paul atreides x you #&. PAUL ATREIDES #PAUL x reader

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lastflowerofyourhouse · 10 months

Text

thinking about harrow and gideon as teeny little children.

like. the adults around them were never going to let them be friends, right? harrow's parents and crux were never going to put up with that. but i'll bet there was a moment, when they were small children, when they could've turned it around and just been friends. but of course they weren't allowed to.

like, here's the thing about toddlers: they kinda suck sometimes. all of them do, and it's usually not their fault. they don't have a developed sense of empathy or consequences yet, and they can't regulate their emotions very well. they're selfish and egocentric and short-sighted. they don't fully grasp concepts like sharing or delayed gratification. they have to be taught these things. it's the responsibility of the adults around them to help them practice and understand. and if they don't...well.

imagine you're tiny harrow. and you realize, one day, that if tiny gideon has something you want, then you're allowed to just take it and nobody cares. meanwhile, all of your things are sacred and protected by the adults around you. also, you're curious. you're learning about people and feelings and cause and effect. and so you start to pick on her, experimentally, as is natural for kids around that age. and you quickly come to understand that you can do whatever you want to her, and nobody will stop you. but if she retaliates, she gets in trouble. you would have to be one hell of an emotionally advanced toddler not to become a fucking terror to live with.

and that's not even mentioning how the adults around them treated gideon. harrow's primary caretaker and role model was fucking crux for jod's sake. and little kids love to copy behaviors and play and help even more than they love to steal. if the adults around you treat one particular person like shit, then you will inevitably learn to do the same.

also, gideon saying that baby harrow saw her as, quote, "an object of tormentable fascination" is weirdly heartbreaking to me? like yeah, harrow was probably The Worst as a little kid, for reasons already explored. but also, there was only one other child in her life. one other child, who was just close enough to her age to identify with, but also slightly older than her, by just enough months to be cool. i'll fucking bet harrow was obsessed with her. they were both lonely and bored and they had never been taught how to make friends or be nice to people. i'll bet they learned to fight like that. harrow following her around, just trying to get her attention, not knowing how else to do it.

the fact that griddle is very obviously babytalk too...it just fuckin gets me. harrow has been trying to say gideon's name since before she could properly form the syllables. she said gid-oh. what do you wanna bet it was one of the first words she tried to figure out how to say.

obviously, none of this justifies what came next. this isn't a harrowhark apologetics post. i'm not trying to like...woobify her or something. none of this emotional rambling about her toddlerhood absolves her of responsibility for shit she did as a teenager. but still. god i get emotional when i think about harrow and gideon as little kids. they were so lonely and they had no positive role models and they were completely fucked over by the adults around them and i am going to cry.

#you ever accidentally write an essay because you thought about your favorite characters as toddlers and it made you sad #yeah me neither #griddlehark #harrow nonagesimus #gideon nav #the locked tomb #tlt #my post

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chaesparklez · 27 days

Text

familiarity | seok matthew x reader

wc: 3.2k

reader: femme afab

warnings: 18+ SMUT MINORS DNI

heavily gendered descriptions, fingering f!receiving, vaginal sex, slightly rough sex, unprotected sex, cumming inside, matthew is a little forceful but consent is still clear!

synopsis:

‘was he always that strong? had his smile always been that beautiful?’

a hazy summer day with your childhood best friend takes a very unexpected turn. two beating hearts, lingering gazes and dark thoughts lead to something more.

a/n: cross posted on wattpad and ao3 by moi. available on both platforms through user @/chaesparkle

"matthew stop! i'm serious, stop!" you begged between giggles as matthew chased you with a hose.

"NEVERR!" he booms in a mock-villain voice before flashing that big goofy grin of his and continuing to attack you.

a hot summer day spent at matthew's house, the two of you had somehow went from mowing the lawn to a crazed water fight.

you both sprinted around the lawn barefoot soaking each other with water before you finally yielded and declared him the winner of the stupid battle, to which he did a goofy celebration dance and sung in joy.

"ha ha, i win, you lose!" he sings in the most irritating tone ever. you can't help but scoff and smile to yourself at how happy he looks.

ever since you were toddlers, you and matthew had been the best of friends. you'd played with teddies and action figures together, walked to school together, gone on family holidays with all your parents together.

you'd grown apart a little after you'd moved away, but coming back to your hometown and spending summers with him connected you with the warm familiarity of your childhood best friend, and you had always found yourself chatting and squabbling like no time had passed. you hated to admit it, but you were both very dear to eachother.

but right now, he was just being his usual annoying self.

"for god's sake matthew, you don't have to do a celebration dance every time you win something!" you whine, raising your arm to punch him on the shoulder.

"or what?" he says, grabbing your wrist mid-air to halt it.

a second passes between you, the humid summer air suddenly blanketing around you uncomfortably. matthew looks right into your eyes, panting gently with that sunny smile on his face, seemingly unaware of the effect he'd had on you. your eyes waver, lost for a moment in his deep brown gaze.

in that loaded moment you became aware of his half buttoned shirt and the muscled chest that rose and fell against yours, glistening beads of water sitting on his smooth skin. his grip on your wrist is firm and your flesh in contact with his seems to tingle.

was he always that strong? had his smile always been that beautiful?

you snapped out of your trance shocked at your wandering thoughts. truthfully speaking, you had budding feelings for him ever since you moved out and found yourself missing his presence beside you everyday. but you'd always pushed those thoughts to the back of your mind.

because he was just... matthew. your matthew. cute adorable matthew. though he looked far from adorable with wet hair and his shirt unbuttoned like that...

'what the hell?? get a damn grip.' you mentally scolded yourself, your once again strange thoughts making you shudder.

besides, what was the point in nurturing feelings for him? you could tell by the way he treated you like a little brother that he'd never see you that way. the easy thing to do was just carry on like always.

matthew observed you in this reverie, furrowing his brows.

"you good?" he asked, slight concern behind his eyes.

"..yeah, duh, why wouldn't i be?" you shoot back, removing your wrist with an awkward cough.

"because you're being a weirdo, weirdo." he jabs, poking your forehead with a grin on his face.

that was it. you start chasing eachother all over again, him running and you screeching abuse at him loud enough for the whole neighbourhood to hear.

never a boring day with him, honestly.

you both crash through the front door and raid the freezer for popsicles, sweating and out of breath from both the heat outside and your demented tussle. matthew sits on the couch while you splay yourself out on the cool floor, both licking your popsicles absentmindedly.

"where's your mom?" you ask, turning onto your side and resting your head on your palm.

"on some bachelorette trip. you know our neighbour linda? she's getting married for the third time."

"husband number three already? damn, the woman's getting more action than me." you laugh in amusement.

"anyone can get more action than you, loser."

"um, excuse me!" you reply in mock offence clutching your chest. 'i am not a loser. i'm the picture of charm and sensuality.' you toss your hair and snoot your nose up at him.

"sure you are, marilyn monroe." he scoffs.

"you're just jealous you don't get bitches like me."

"oh really? have we forgotten what happened with keeho?"

you choke on your popsicle and go into a coughing fit, caught off guard by the mention of matthew's friend who'd asked you out a while ago.

"that was just a fluke..." you mumbled.

"i don't think so."

"it was!"

"you scared him off for life, man!" matthew exclaims, bursting into laughter at the memory.

matthew had introduced keeho to you at a mutual friend's birthday party a few years ago. you didn't talk much but he ended up asking you on a date- and your awkward teenage self had been too shy to say no. so... you went on a truly disastrous date with him that ended in you bursting into nervous laughter and lapsing into vine references when you thought he was going to kiss you.

needless to say, he was not interested after that.

"i genuinely need to ask why of all vine references you chose the krusty krab one.."

"i don't know," you groaned.

he continues laughing. "you literally sung the whole song while he just sat there. were you trying to join american idol?" he snorts.

"SHUT UP MAN," you complain. the sight of you cringing and embarrassed only makes him laugh harder. you narrow your eyes for revenge.

'okay, riddle me this then! why the hell did you decide a good way to confess to belle was to sing that cringy song for her in a fedora?? in front of the whole class?'

"hey, we were nine years old! and the fedora was fitting for the time."

"i'm afraid no time period excuses the abomination that is a fedora hat."

"you know she loved it."

"she literally laughed in your face and bullied you for the rest of the year."

"duh, because she was shocked at her overwhelming feelings for me and the aggression was a coping mechanism!"

you burst into laughter at how nonsensical this conversation was getting and shake your head. honestly sometimes this boy just talks to talk.

"your brain is strange as fuck, man. no girl can understand your thought process."

"apart from you." he responds absentmindedly.

a beat.

"yeah. apart from me." you respond after a second, heart thumping again like earlier. you quickly turn away from him, flustered and wanting to hide the blush seeping onto your cheeks.

you take the remote and hurriedly switch on the tv to distract yourself. watching for a while, you eventually zone out and forget about the weird moments earlier. you still feel tired from the water fight and stretch out on the floor. the white sundress with delicate tie straps you wear is still a little damp, the cotton cool against your skin.

"um.. why don't you get off the floor? you're wearing white, too." matthew comments, voice constricting suddenly,

"i don't wanna."

oblivious, you smile and stretch your limbs out. 'it's comfy here. you should lie down too.'

"i'm good." he replies a second too late, eyes wavering.

you prop yourself up on your elbows. "why not? come, lie down."

"forget it."

"whyy?" you whine, in a mood to annoy him since he wasn't responding. you begin chanting at a million syllables a second: 'why why why why why why why why why wh-'

then all of a sudden he is lying down... on top of you. his body over yours with his hand over your mouth to silence you.

what you were unaware of was that matthew's heart had also been racing for you. and maybe it was the balmy summer heat, or your mischievous smile, or the way the sunlight shone on your skin that he just wanted to stroke and kiss every inch of.

but he had been overtaken by all consuming desire.

hands gripping the sofa cushion with his teeth gritted, matthew had felt his bulge strain against his shorts. the tantalising view of you laying before him had drove him near madness. the creamy skin of your shoulders on display and visible nipples underneath the white fabric made him increasingly aware of the blood rushing to his cock. an angelic ingénue surrounded by a soft halo of hair splayed on the floor. a soft white peach ready for him to devour.

and the way you called out to him completely unaware of your dress riding up to show your coquettish pink panties, the flimsy tie strap falling down, so easy for him to untie with a simple tug of the string...

he had acted before thinking and found himself on top of you. the way your eyes widened and the heat of your warm breath on his palm didn't alleviate the pounding in his heart.

and now here you are, inches apart on the cool floor.

you stare into each others eyes for several seconds, the air heavy and peppered with the distant sounds of cicadas outside. something in his gaze had changed as he stares at you intensely. you'd never seen him look at you like that before.

"you can't just tell me to lie down without a care in the world. i'm a man too, you know." he says in a low voice.

"..w-what do you mean?" you whisper, voice catching in your throat.

his jaw clenches for a second before he breaks into a smirk and fixes the strap that had fallen off your shoulder.

"did you know your dress is see through?" he whispers, fingers tracing circles on your shoulder.

your face heats up at the realisation of what he's been seeing the whole time. your heart starts pounding.

with a soft smile, matthew closes his eyes and kisses you gently. your eyes flutter shut and you kiss back shyly, heart pounding knowing that deep down you'd been wishing for this to happen. his lips taste of strawberries and cream.

and your desire becomes even clearer when you feel his growing erection against your pelvis. a wave of pleasure washes through your body, starting from your wet core and blooming in your sternum. you deepen the kiss, hungry for him.

"please. want you so bad." he moans between your lips before burying his head in the crevice of your neck and planting hot kisses on your skin.

as he sucks and nibbles at your neck he runs a finger along your drenched panties, prompting a sharp intake of air from you at his touch. in a rushed movement he removes your panties with one hand and begins to massage your throbbing clit in circular motions.

"you're so wet for me already." he remarks breathlessly,

"oh my god, matthew..." you moan in sheer euphoria.

he slides a finger into your core while stimulating your clit with his thumb and you gasp in pleasure. kissing you deeply, he runs his tongue along the line of your teeth and you softly bite his bottom lip in response. matthew slides another finger into your center prompting a deep moan.

"mmnh, keep going," you whimper, the feeling of his fingers inside you combined with the stimulation to your clit almost being too much to bear.

eyes fixated on your face, he begins to rub your clit intermittently. going at it then stopping for a second before repeating the process several times when he felt you were getting close. this only increases your yearning and you whimper in submission, hips grinding to match the pace of his fingers whenever they made contact with your dripping wet core.

head spinning, whimpers escape your lips as he edges you. he begins to space out his movements, going a few more seconds without touching you each time. this drives you insane and you find your body being controlled like a puppet on strings under his touch. your pelvis jerks sharply now whenever his fingers made contact with your clit, mouth muttering indecipherable words, eyes shut tight and cheeks flushed. you feel your climax coming closer already.

"ah, matthew... that feels so good.." you moan softly.

he regards you for a second, taking in your tear stained cheeks and swollen lips. the view of you an utter mess just from his fingers sends him on a further descent into madness and he kisses your neck hungrily as if to consume you.

he couldn't take it anymore. he had to take you right here on the floor.

hastily pulling down his pants to reveal his fully grown erection, he pumps it a couple of times before aligning it with your throbbing pussy. running the tip up and down the length of it to wetten his cock. you take a sharp intake of breath in response, head spinning from the stimulation.

just before he enters you, he locks eyes with you and brushes the hair out of your face.

"are you sure?" he breathes, pupils wavering.

you nod with yearning, and he smiles and kisses your forehead.

with painstaking care he pushes his cock inside you inch by inch, allowing your pussy to get used to his size.

you throw your head back and moan as your pussy takes his girthy length, a mixture of pain and pleasure making it throb like crazy. a tear escapes your eye from the pressure. matthew wipes it away gently with the back of his hand and brushes the hair out of your eyes.

"such a good girl. you're taking my cock so well for me." he whispers. the sound of his impassioned voice combined with the feeling of him inside you sends a wave of pleasure throughout your body.

he fucks you slowly, deliberately, tip hitting your g spot with every impassioned thrust making your pussy clench tantalisingly around his length.

you throw your head back and feel his cool fingers trace the line of your neck running down to your shoulder, where with a gentle tug he undoes the tie of your sundress. the soft material slips off easily revealing your pert breasts. he cups one in his hand and licks tantalisingly at your hardened nipple, biting gently prompting a soft yelp from you.

you run your hands through his thick hair, gazing up at him between half lidded eyes. as you make eye contact he kisses you once again. you moan between his lips in ecstasy at the sensation of his strong hands exploring your body and his soft lips on yours.

in a swift movement he picks you up off the floor and presses your body against the wall, your arms around his neck for support while he hold you by your legs. you gasp as your back makes contact with the cold wall and center throbs once again at his effortless show of strength. his muscled arms flex as they grip your thighs, hips moving rapidly as he begins to pound you.

you cry out deeply as you receive his sloppy thrusts, pussy clenching tighter around his length driving him crazy.

"ah! f-fuck.. oh my god...matthew, i.." you moan desperately, unable to form a sentence at the way the feeling of his cock inside you clouds your mind.

he lets out a moan at the amalgam of sensations you're making him feel; the feeling of being inside your throbbing pussy, the way his arms burn from holding you against the wall, and your fucked out face right before him unable to do anything but stammer and take his cock. eyes watering, cheeks red, face contorted in a visage of pleasure.

he has you laying on the couch beneath him in a flash with your legs wrapped around his thighs while you lay gazing up at him fucking you in a trance, hair a fluffy mess and sweat glistening on his skin.

he's struggling not to cum from the view beneath him, your perfect tits bouncing with the movement driving him insane. you can feel your high slowly creeping up on you as his thrusts grow stronger, prompting a loud moan from you at every single movement.

"fuck.. matthew... i'm close.." you manage to choke out as your eyes flutter closed in euphoria, focusing on feeling how wet your pussy is and the way matthew's cock gradually brings you to orgasm.

"me too. cum for me baby, come on." he rasps.

and the moment washes over you both like water. he moans deeply as he finishes, hot cum pumping inside you while your walls clench around him milking his cock of every drop of cum. simultaneously you moan with your eyes closed and palm on your forehead, hips undulating as you ride out your orgasm.

in a daze, you open your eyes lazily as he pulls out, cum seeping out of your center making your pussy twitch. matthew leans down to kiss you, his cheeks flushed from the exertion. in that moment, you realise just how much you've fallen for him. you kiss back passionately and whisper: "thank you.." through half lidded eyes.

the late afternoon sunshine shines through the net curtains casting an array of shapes onto yours and matthew's skin.

you lay in a tangle of white bedsheets, unclothed and in a state of giggly bliss. matthew's hair is still a little damp from the shower you'd taken together- him insisting on soaping your body and making sure you weren't aching too much from the session. he'd even towelled you dry and brought you snacks afterwards.

and now he's here whispering sweet nothings into your ear and tracing circles on your palm, sunlight shining a golden glow on his milky skin.

you kiss his neck and he lets out a soft laugh, peering down at you and tucking your hair behind your ear before planting a kiss on your temple.

"was it not sudden to you?" he asks.

"hm?" you reply.

"what we just did.." he says, sentence trailing off as his cheeks pinken a little.

you laugh at his sudden docility, so different from the boldness he had showed just an hour ago. you prop your head up on your hand then interlock your fingers with his, gazing into his eyes.

"no," you answer. you stroke his knuckles with your thumb softly. 'i've felt this way about you for a while.'

"really?"

"mhmm."

"how didn't i notice before? i mean... i've liked you for a long time."

"because you're stupid." you burst out into giggles. 'why else do you think i bombed it with keeho?'

his eyebrows raise in surprise.

"wait, so... you mean you did that on purpose? because you liked me?"

you laugh and plant a sweet kiss on his cheek.

"i'm surprised you didn't find out earlier."

"hmmm," he replies in mock thought. 'so you seduced me on purpose today?'

"oh, that was completely by chance. i told you im irresistible."

"well, that's true..." he says, before pulling the sheet over your heads and planting a thousand kisses all over your body.

you yelp and laugh and ruffle his hair as he kisses your neck, your breasts, your waist, before he sinks further down to plant a kiss on your pelvis. he looks up at you like a golden retriever and you both know you're ready to start this all over again.

he smiles that gorgeous smile of his. the smile that's always been there ever since you were kids. your beautiful matthew.

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genericpuff · 3 months

Note

I was kind of curious: What do you think of Persephone's therapy scenes in episodes 160-161?

I personally liked them, but you and many other LO critics always seem to see things that totally flew over my head (I mean that in a positive way).

I think the idea behind them was fine, just the execution that felt really half-baked. Rachel doesn't like scenes to sit too long so the therapy scene, of course, wound up being rushed in the course of 2-3 episodes (meaning she had to have Persephone dump everything all at once) and while Persephone's dialogue is handled relatively well, the direction of the scene itself feels entirely mismanaged (which is both a side effect of Rachel's directionless writing and the fact that she clearly doesn't want to do more than one of these kinds of episodes so she needs to speedrun it).

TRIGGER WARNING: Discussion concerning sexual assault ahead!

Like, let's start with Persephone's intent in going to therapy. Wanting to pursue therapy doesn't just happen suddenly, there's usually a "trigger event" to make someone realize "I need help", whether it be hitting rock bottom or even just going "I feel like I don't have the skills or tools necessary to deal with what I'm dealing with, I need a professional opinion".

Despite Eros advising her to go to therapy all the way back in S1 to address her assault-

-she actually finally goes to therapy in S2 not to address the assault, but to address... how she feels insecure in comparison to Hera who she just found out Hades had a long-term affair with??? At least that's definitely the implication.

And then of course the therapy session itself segues immediately into "Persephone is a high achiever and it's because of her mom being overbearing" which Rachel doesn't connect at all to either the SA or her feeling insecure compared to Hera (which, by the way, barely even has anything to do with her, but she didn't - and still doesn't - have the emotional maturity or self-respect to realize that Hades is a serial cheater-)

That's where the first therapy episode cuts off, and then the next episode immediately opens with Persephone writing her entire backstory on a whiteboard, so we can assume time has passed and she's talked about everything from her childhood up until this point.

Then we get Chiron asking Persephone... what could go wrong if she leaves TGOEM??

Even though we never saw any of the actual sequence so it just feels like a question that's coming out of nowhere? Like did Persephone say during that schpeel that she wanted to leave TGOEM? Isn't that something we should have seen to connect these two trains of thought?

Ah, right, because we have to get into Hades. Because this comic fails the Bechdel test so hard it can't even have a character talk about their trauma or childhood without it seguing into "well there's this one specific main character guy I just really wanna sleep with-"

Don't get me wrong, if Rachel is trying to "deconstruct purity culture" here, I can get her angle with this, if Persephone has been "groomed her entire life" to be an eternal maiden then there's clearly some thought processes about sexual attraction there that are being challenged by her attraction to Hades. But it just feels so rushed purely for the sake of getting her through her trauma and childhood problems and everything that Rachel tacked onto her backstory (in an attempt to make her seem more than just a self-insert) so that Rachel can get her back on track to sleeping with Hades, the one and only man she's clearly ever felt sexual attraction to enough to want to leave TGOEM and question her entire childhood.

And then we get this and I just-

Like first of all, again, Persephone being a complete airhead and not realizing that it has less to do with her possibly being an inadequate partner and more to do with Hades being a serial cheater who also used her as an emotional affair partner;

but ALSO the fact that the conclusion is some "eureka" moment of "you're a bad decision maker" ??? I was a fan of the comic still when this scene happened and even I went "huh?"

Like she doesn't bother to try and connect it to everything she just learned and said about her childhood and how she wants to be the "perfect daughter" who will make everyone happy, Chiron just reduces it to "oh you just suck at making decisions". As if "sucking at making decisions" isn't like, a reactionary extension of deeper problems. She's treating it as if Persephone is some "puzzle" to be solved and her being a "bad decision maker" was the answer when it's undoubtedly just one of many side effects of her upbringing. It feels like she's addressing the cough and not the virus.

Also a little off topic but-

Gotta love how we've never seen Persephone actually employ this homework from her therapist because she's constantly stapled to Hades and the only thing she cares about is his happiness. Literally, I don't think Persephone could possibly answer that question because she's never been independent enough to even learn what makes her happy - she's jumped from wanting to make her mother happy to wanting to make Hades happy but we're supposed to condemn the former and celebrate the latter.

Buuut of course we don't get her answering that question because again, Rachel can't spend more than 30 seconds on a single scene because that would demand too much writing and thought from her. So we cut to Hera having a discussion with Asclepius regarding her scars re-opening, yadda yadda.

By the time we cut back to the therapy session at the start of the next episode (that's three episodes that have been spent basically accomplishing nothing because none of the thought threads tie together in a meaningful way beyond what the audience has to assume) Chiron is conveniently wrapping things up and it's then and only then does Rachel try to actually incorporate the SA plotline that was Persephone's ORIGINAL MOTIVATION in going to therapy.

Now, the scene for the most part is fine, I don't really like how the therapy session was written leading up to it, but her describing her freeze response and how she feels guilty she couldn't "fight back" is a very real feeling that I can definitely say was well written.

My one gripe with it though - and sure, this might be nitpicky, but here me out - is this:

I don't particularly like that Chiron the therapist just found out about her patient being a rape victim - someone who's also said she doesn't like people grabbing her / touching her without her consent - and then decides the best course of action is to comfort her... while touching her.

Now I want to make it perfectly clear, it's not against the law or even the code of ethics to make physical contact between a therapist and their patient. Loads of patients have made breakthroughs with their therapists that have called for hugs and while some therapists may not be okay with it, there are definitely therapists who are who fully understand that hugs in those moments are the best thing for a person. But it's still a general boundary that is there and even with patients who aren't victims of SA, consent needs to be asked for / given.

So Chiron just... coming over and touching Persephone on the knee, while undoubtedly seen as a "warm and comforting act" by those who have had similar sessions with their own therapists or even just those who have no clue and see it on the surface level as being "sweet", really irks me, because it just seems so tone deaf to do with a character like Persephone who is supposed to be a victim of having her bodily autonomy taken away from her.

Again, it's a small criticism, and undoubtedly a nitpick in the eyes of some, but a simple "can I give you a hug?" from either Chiron or Persephone would have gone a long way in accomplishing Persephone's need for consent and bodily autonomy a lot more than just having Chiron come up and touch her leg without her consent. Please, for the love of god, let Persephone have some autonomy, asking for consent doesn't ruin the moment.

And that's pretty much it, Persephone talks about how she feels like she's tethered to Apollo, and Chiron assures her that's not the case, session over, Persephone goes outside to Hades aaaand notice how we never actually tackled that "I feel insecure because of my partner having former partners?" thing? Notice how the best we got was her talking about her fears of being an "inadequate partner" which focused entirely on her not being "enough" for Hades and being a "bad decision maker" rather than pointing out 1.) Hades' own faults in being a serial cheater that would undoubtedly contribute to her insecurities and 2.) what Persephone could do for Hades rather than what Hades could do for Persephone? It's always "I don't know if I'm good enough for him" and never "I don't know if he's good enough for me."

Yet another F-- on Lore Olympus' Bechdel test. Every single thing tacked onto Persephone's backstory is meant purely to get her with Hades - TGOEM is just an obstacle preventing her from having sex with Hades, the assault is just a framing device to show how much "better" Hades is for Persephone than Apollo, her overbearing childhood is just to show how much more "free" she is now that she's not living with her mother and is living with Hades instead, etc.

No agency, no autonomy, no character, even when it tries.

youtube

#lore olympus critical #anti lore olympus #lo critical #ama #ask me anything #anon ama #anon ask me anything

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mncxbe · 10 months

Note

can i request dazai x reader where the two end up getting side tracked on a mission and end up kissing and stuff the entire time . and reader is nervous because they know kunikida will KILL them if he found out but dazais just chill

oh my I absolutely loved writing this. Also I imagined dazai in that pretty suit he wore at the end of season 3. I hope it's what you were looking for♡ Enjoy

9:31♡

𝑫𝒂𝒛𝒂𝒊 𝒙 𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒆𝒓

𝑮𝒆𝒏𝒓𝒆: fluff♡/ passionate kisses?

It was usual for Dazai to skip work or do the bare minimum. He's good at reading people and he can solve any case in only a few minutes so why bother putting in some extra effort when he can spend time with you instead?

That being said, when the time came for you two to go on a mission, he was more than prepared to slack off.

"Don't worry darling" he said in a playful tone "Let's just enjoy ourselves. After all we finally have privacy"

You were currently sitting at a table at the far end of the dim lit room. The beautifully ornated lampshades were casting dark shadows on the walls; the smell of tobacco filling the room. The restaurant was chic, quite elegant but secluded, exactly the place criminals choose to meet to discuss business.

A few days ago Kunikida received a tip from one of his informants: two underground organizations were planning to join forces in order to rob a bank and they would meet at that certain restaurant to discuss the details. Naturally, your job was to eavesdrop on their conversation and report everything back to Kunikida. Your superior even made a reservation for the table next to their and allowed you to buy a bottle of expensive wine to set the scene.

That said wine was now being poured in your glass by your boyfriend. "I really can't believe that Kunikida was this generous" he chuckled

"Well, it would be suspicious if we just stood here and did nothing"

"Good point darling"

The two of you clinked glasses just as your targets entered the room.

"Osamu, they're here" you spoke lowly. Your boyfriend nonchalantly looked over his shoulder, catching a glimpse of the two men through the wooden shade that separated your tables.

"And now the party starts" He took another sip of his drink, resting his arm over your shoulders.

The targets ordered something and immediately began discussing their plan, not minding the fact that there were people around them; so it was quite easy for you to hear what they were saying. However, only a few minutes later, Dazai's fingers started ghosting over your thigh.

"Tell me, dear. Are you enjoying the wine?"

"Sshhh" you snapped at him "I'm trying to listen"

Your sudden outburst amused him, a sly smile making its way to his lips. "Why so serious, hon? Just relax a bit." He leaned in, cold lips leaving a trail of soft kisses along your neck.

You tried to protest again but he wouldn't buy it. He could tell by the way your pulse incresed that you were as eager as him. You slowly batted your lashes as he tilted your chin to the side, exposing your neck even further. Dazai's lips were warm and wet against your skin, his occasional needy moans driving you crazy. You snapped out of it when his hand slid up your thigh. Your fingers instinctively wrapped around his wrist, pushing his hand away.

"Dazai, can we please focus? Kunikida is going to kill us if we mess this up and~"

He suddenly pressed his lips against yours, earning a muffled moan from you. His arms snaked around your waist as he pulled you closer, teeth nibbling at your lower lip. You felt your body get hotter with each second that passed; the taste of red wine on his lips shutting down your senses. Dazai's kisses always had this effect on you. As soon as his lips pressed against yours, all sounds became distorted, as if you were underwater and all you could do was melt into his embrace.

You kissed for a good number of minutes until you heard the men behind you yell.

"Oi, you two. Get a room for fuck's sake" they cursed. You suddenly became aware of the position you were in, your cheeks taking on a red tint.

"We're so sorry, sirs I~"

"Just shut it, woman" they spoke again before returning to their conversation.

"Assholes" you mumbled under your breath as you turned to face your boyfriend, who was grinning at you.

"See now, bella. Maybe you should be more quiet next time." You didn't find his remark amusing in the slightest, but all you did was pout as you tried to focus on what the targets were saying.

Unfortunately, the two men asked the waitress for the bill, threw a stack of money on the table and left. A sudden wave of despair took over you and you started panicking.

"Shit I didn't catch the time and place. I'm done, I'm so done. I'm gonna get fired"

"Bella, it's alright" Dazai said in a soothing voice, placing a hand on your shoulder "You're lucky you have such an amazing partner, you know? I have all the information we need here" he continued, gently patting his head with a finger.

You exhaled deeply and allowed yourself to rest in his comforting embrace. "Thanks, Osamu. You're amazing. But please, next time don't distract me like that"

"How about you don't let yourself be distracted, pretty girl?"

A scoff left your lips as you rolled your eyes. Your boyfriend chuckled and downed the last sips of wine. "And what now? The mission is done and we still have half a bottle left. It'd be a shame if it went to waste." His slender fingers caressed your thigh again, making you shiver in anticipation "How about we finish the rest at home?"

"Sounds wonderful, dear" you replied in a honeyed voice "But we have to write the report first"

He kissed you one more time, a soft peck that melted your heart "I believe that can wait 'till tomorrow morning, darling"

#bsd #bungou stray dogs #bsd x reader #bsd fluff #dazai osamu #bsd dazai #dazai bsd #dazai x reader #bsd smut

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avelera · 6 months

Text

I feel like one unexpected side-effect in the (slight) uptick of queer ships becoming canon (seriously guys it's so slight if you look at the actual numbers) is learning how often slash fandom doesn't actually want the baggage that comes with their ship becoming canon.

I mean, of course they want it. The fandom wants the confirmation that they're not delusional, that they're not mocked, that the sparks they sensed between two possibly-queer characters is real.

But the side-effect of a ship becoming canon with anything more than a kiss to mark the end of the story is that it might become canon not in the way you wanted.

So long as the characters are in the will-they-won't-they, you can imagine what their first time would be like. You can imagine how they act in a relationship together. You can imagine the tone of the relationship.

You can imagine it in ways that are incredibly personal and meaningful to you.

But the minute a ship becomes canon at a point where the story still needs to progress, you're going to get divergence from the way you imagined it going.

They're going to bicker about things you never imagined would be a point of contention between them in the story, that it might have even been meaningful for you that they had never fought over previously, possibly because the story just didn't have the time for them to fight over that beforehand. Or perhaps this writer leans more into interpersonal conflict as a plot point, where you preferred the couple facing an external threat. There's as many ways to imagine the tone of a relatinship as there are people in the world.

They're going to have a different first-something than you imagined. First kiss, first date, first time sleeping together. For it to be canonical it has to be committed to the page which means it has to be set. Maybe you thought it would be awkward where it was smooth, or smooth where it should be awkward. Maybe you though the kiss would be a bigger deal to them than the sex or vice versa. Maybe canonically they flub the romance of that first time for the sake of comedy. Now that's canon too. You can ignore it with fic, obviously that's what fandom is about, but now it's AU, not "what-if?".

There might be interruptions to the love story, breakups, fights, separations, that aren't the end of the relationship but do mark an action beat that is necessary to keep the story moving and interesting. Unless the last canonical beat is them riding into the sunset together, it's inevitable and usually marks the end of a story because domestic fluff where nothing happens isn't actually a genre that can be sustained in original fiction without a plot.

Look, as queer ships become canon, this is going to be inevitable. OFMD S2 was the most egregious example I've seen recently of everyone who had engaged with the fandom having a different version of how they wanted Stede and Ed to behave once they were together. I couldn't help but laugh when I saw that the fandom fervency shifted from the canonical established queer ship (after it had the audacity to move beyond the establishing kiss and then the will-they-won't-they phase of reuniting), to the potential of a character who was never even canonically established as queer (Izzy) because everything about his story still lived in the potential land that fandom thrives in. And I don't entirely mean that as a criticism, just as a bitter irony!

Fandoms don't necessarily want a ship confirmed, they think they do, but that potential which was so enshrined and infuriatingly drawn out with regards to queer ships for so long and that's only just barely breaking just a little from when it was outright forbidden to show queer characters getting together (and it still is in most of the world if you go by population, and heavily discouraged by the mainstream powers that be in most places even where it's not banned, the limitations on international markets you get from having canonical queer characters even as side characters still makes it prohibitive for big budget flicks, since it means cutting themselves off from those markets in terms of recouping costs.)....

ANYWAY the point I'm making is that a few queer ships becoming canon has led to a perhaps predictable but depressing amount of outrage when 1) a popular queer ship doesn't become canon, but that's been building for a while now, but also 2) when the popular ship becoming canon doesn't become canon in the way the fandom wanted. Which was also inevitable but goddamn as a veteran of fandom for over two decades now, I can remember not that long ago when your queer ship becoming canon just not in the way you hoped would have been a damn nice problem to have!

#maggie rambles #fandom #ofmd meta

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wordsnstuff · 4 months

Note

Hi!

I have reached out to more people, but I'm still having problems with this, and I wanted to hear another opinion.

As a writer, do you have problems continuing a story once you hit a difficult scene?

Because I do, and honestly it's getting me frustrated at this point.

I have a good idea and a plot already done, but every time I hit a difficult scene I just get stuck, and can't write for weeks, sometimes months. I hardly even open the documents when it happens, and sometimes it comes right when I'm on a writing spree and being happy with my writing.

Do you have any advice on how to deal with this? How can I get past this issue and just keep writing more frequently?

I'd really like to hear it!

What do you do when you hit a snag?

When approaching this topic, the frustrating thing is that age-old advice has a lot of truth to it. Sometimes it is true that the best thing you can do when you're stuck is to stop struggling against the resistance and take a meaningful, intentional break to rest your mind and reset your thought process. Sometimes the key to getting started again is shaking up the routine and the altering the process until you find a new combination of habits that meet you where you are.

However, for a lot of us, the turmoil reaches deeper than that. A lot of people who do creative things are neurodivergent, so that has a place in the conversation when discussing what's preventing us from realizing our vision. Even if you don't identify with specific neurodivergence, there are a lot of tools and techniques that have been tried and tested for coping with immense, intrinsic difficulty with things like productivity, mindfulness, interoception, focus, and consistency. Just because these techniques are not specifically designated for you doesn't mean they won't be effective for you.

It is always a helpful exercise to take a step back and examine how you're feeling, both when you are writing and when you aren't, and try to identify any areas where you might be able to improve by changing things within your control.

When it comes to a specific scene holding you back from carrying on, I usually find that it's the result of a decision I made earlier in the plot that isn't serving the story as it continues to develop. I would take a chunk of time to take an analytical look at the scene, where it's come from, what is and isn't sparking in it (is the stagnation mostly due to the characters, events, environment, or lack of information, and is it a scene that is imperative to the reader's understanding?). A lot of the time, it's a scene that can be cut, or it's a scene that can be made redundant by infusing the necessary information of the scene into another place within the story.

If you've identified a scene as "a difficult scene", ask yourself why. If it's daunting because it's too long, then it can probably be cut way down and then added to later if while editing it seems a little thin. If it's challenging because things aren't falling into place and you aren't getting into a flow, then the set-up for the scene probably hasn't been developed effectively and you need to decide whether you're gonna go back in the draft to investigate or move on and return to it while editing.

If the information in the scene needs to be communicated at this specific point in the story, the problem might be the way you've chosen to present it. Pay attention to what your instincts are telling you, because pushing through a scene for the sake of getting past it will not produce a compelling scene to read. If you need to move past it, you have permission to do that. You can always come back and completely dig it up later.

Overall, I think it's very important to write with acceptance that the plot may not turn out the way you planned it. The process is much more effective and much more enjoyable if you aren't trudging along on a predestined path. If the characters and story develop outside of the lines, see where they go. You'll always have the opportunity to return to the outline and tailor later.

Best of luck,

x Kate

#writing #writeblr #writespo #writing advice #writing tips

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starrailstories · 5 months

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Hey! Could you write something about Blade having a keeper of time/ timekeeper s/o? ♥

first ask!!! let's hecking goooooooo

i wanted to write headcanons but then one thing led to another and it's a short story that i hope you enjoy

Blade x gn!Timekeeper!S/O — Seen in the shards

warnings: mentions of blade's depression and suicidal thoughts (canon-compliant), possibly ooc but i really really hope i wrote him well

Blade is destruction incarnate, the mara and rage and grief taking over him sporadically, like bile rising to the throat. He is an effective tool of the Hunters (ironic, isn't it? an abomination like him hardly can Hunt), and many would think that this is all he is, a bounty and a sin and a loosely held leash.

You know him differently, though. You know him in the moments of repose in-between the storm that he brings along, and in those moments, he feels like a large shard of time away from where he'd fit. It's always shards with him, glimpses of past mistakes, and battles, and memories, but mostly sorrow. You think of the ways time cracks as you struggle to keep it whole, revealing the uncomfortable truths you dare not mention to the IPC or the Intelligentsia Guild. It's kind of similar, like if you try just enough, you'll see the complete picture once again.

And he doesn't get you at first, because collecting broken shards and piecing them back is not what Blade does. Blade is all about burning bridges, throwing himself into battle headfirst, Blade does - not - get it when you show concern or worry, when you offer to share a meal, when you tend to a wound of his, when you try and protect him in battle, because he isn't supposed to be together, only apart, shatter and shatter and shatter in hopes that one day, he'll just lie there broken and dead and gone.

You care and that hurts, for some reason, hurts in a way that doesn't sate his urge to be hurt.

✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧

"I almost pity you, Bladie. But envy you all the same," Kafka drops one day as they're sat in a boujee cafe on a planet that will experience a Stellaron catastrophe in about three system hours. She raises her cup of tea to her lips almost immediately, but he catches a hint of a smile.

"Pity, I understand, but I do not welcome it. However, what of the envy?"

Kafka set down her cup gently, in a manner that she would always do, and her smile faded.

"Soon, you would know the meaning of fear. You knew it once, but in a different lifetime. Now, you will know it again, and it will hurt in different ways. It's fascinating."

She spoke with a certainty, as if reciting a script. Possibly that was the case, and that was more sad than anything. Given a power to make anyone listen, but stuck saying words someone else wrote.

"So it will happen?"

"As much as anything said by Destiny's Slave will. There's a seed for fear in that, too. You will resent your wish and your fate, but it still will happen, even if you don't want it to happen anymore."

Right. Blade looks away, because he doesn't usually decipher the grand scheme of things. He was promised a death and a settling of the score, and he is content with that, content in the way a sword is content to rest in its sheath. Kafka reaches across the table to touch his forehead as if to impart a wisdom.

She'd point a gun to his head and he'd be just as apathetic.

"Listen. I am telling you this for your sake, after all."

There's no command behind the word, and Blade regrets this, because thinking he dislikes most of all.

✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧

Fear is a foreign concept, but the more you reach out to him with your care, the more he starts to grasp it. He knows of your strength, he knows of your capabilities, he sees you constantly fixing time itself, reaching into the molten metal with hands exposed and heart bare, to stitch all together before the past pours into the present and the future into the past and a sea of fake stars replaces the cosmos you traverse (you told him once of a world inside an egg one time, where the sky is fake and the up is down and why does he remember these trivial things again).

But he also knows of his own strength, and how all that he touches goes awry, and that is scary — to see you reach out when he knows full well how your care might destroy you, how he might destroy you.

"You shouldn't be picking up the shards. They'd cut you," he says one time after another crack is restored and the anomaly of the Fragmentum shifts into a stable state. His sword drags on the ground, leaving a distinctly red trace. You know he isn't speaking about the timeline.

"Those are big words coming from someone carrying a sword made of shards," you smile like you always do and it hurts. Because it hurts to be cared for and treated like a person and where were you those centuries ago when dying still felt memorable and there was something besides the anger?

He wishes he fell into a timeline anomaly back then because that would mean even for a moment, being caught by you, and that is a scary thought.

"Blade?" he's zoning out. Bad. He is supposed to keep himself in check, because most people are capable of dying and he is a remarkably well-working death machine.

"I will say this more clearly: if you keep reaching out to me, you will die."

✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧

You don't stop because... actually why. Blade still doesn't get it. Blade doesn't speak up anymore, a sword in its sheath, but he thinks sometimes. Thinking is still a horrible pastime activity. But he does wonder about what it would have felt like to have met you earlier, when there was some feeling left in him.

He wonders if you bandaging a wound of his would make him feel safe. He wonders if the snacks you buy on the planets you visit would make him feel sated. He wonders if after a long day, sleeping next to each other would make him feel truly content.

Dangerous thoughts, yet strangely warm, like candlelight.

You plop on the bed of a dingy hotel room you two are staying at. Blade cares little about the quality of the establishment, but he does care about security, and keeping on the down low is of the essence. He stores his sword next to his side of the bed, to draw if a fight occurs.

He doesn't sleep anyway, simply lies in a dreamless haze, so nothing would catch him off-guard.

"Room's tiny. Bed's hard as a rock, too," you make small talk, untying the laces of your boots.

"Mhm," Blade hums. He thinks that there were free rooms in the hotel. With two beds in each, no less. He doesn't bring this up because it's safer to stay close together and that's the only reason.

"And it's cold."

"Mhm," he hums again. He doesn't feel much in terms of warmth or coldness.

You lie back on the bed, staring at the ceiling as he checks for emergency exit pathways and makes notes of useful items.

"Sometimes I wish there were no anomalies or Stellarons out there. Then we wouldn't have large bounties on our heads and we'd be able to afford all the good hotels."

"We wouldn't have met then. And this room is sufficient."

Blade says sufficient, but for the last while, he found sufficient lacking. He wanted good things, despite being undeserving, and it hurt, too, because he knew all too well what happened to the good things in his life.

He lies down next to you, six inches, seven hundred years and a universe apart.

"Would we? I'd still have found you, I feel like."

It feels weird to hear this. He remembers how you once got hurt because you tried to block a hit meant for him. It was a long time ago, before that could hurt. It wasn't anything serious, but now, guilt eats at him each time he notices the faint scar on your shoulder. He drifts his gaze left, and there it is, a reminder.

And he also sees that you're cold.

What comes next is a whim and Blade never acts on whims. But he turns on the bed and drags you into an embrace.

"You wouldn't have liked what you've found."

Because then he'd be a mara-struck abomination, immortal mess of ginkgo leaves and dripping bile and the same names roared so much that no one would hear what he says. He still is like that, just somewhat grounded.

"You always decide for me. But isn't it up to me to weigh my choices, Blade?"

No, he wants to say, it's not. He's been mortal and stupid before, and that was his mistake. For that, he must pay a price. He doesn't want you to be hurt that way because you, unlike him, don't deserve this.

But he says none of it, as you raise your hand and touch his cheek and it's warm and it hurts—

His voice breaks, in both anger and fear, "I don't want you fixing me. I know you want to pick up the shards and glue them together. But you will regret that wish."

He isn't Yingxing and he won't be Yingxing ever again. What was him died on the Xianzhou Luofu, and it died again and again and again until what was left couldn't recall the deaths any longer. Then, a mess of shards, an empty husk, he was Blade, and he couldn't ever go back.

You smile gently at him.

"I know. If you ever decide to piece the shards together, it should be your choice and not mine, and I have no deal interfering with that. But still, I want to see all of you, Blade. Broken or not."

It's scary because admitting that he wants you to see him too would mean accepting that it won't change a thing. The script is merciless and uncaring. Even if he allows himself to love you, he is already destined to die as part of the performance. It's scary because it changes everything. It's scary because it changes nothing.

He shifts on the bed, so that you're face to face.

"May I kiss you?"

You close the distance first, as you always do, and he, for the first time in seven hundred years, feels seen.

#blade x reader #blade x you #blade x y/n #honkai star rail #honkai x reader #blade hsr #blade honkai #hsr #yingxing

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