#‘darling can you get any less creative’

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General Yandere! Kotarou Bokuto Profile

Yandere! Kotarou Bokuto x reader

TW: kidnapping, possessiveness, mentions of stalking, mentions of masturbation, allusions to somnophilia, Stockholm Syndrome, emotional manipulation, Ko uses you as his emotional support system, delusional behavior, nonconsensual physical affection/touch, vague allusions to non-con, mentions of physical abuse, Kotarou is extremely emotionally needy and physically touchy and just generally quite a handful, mentions of insecurity, fem reader, MDNI

I do not condone any of the actions described in this post - this is fiction and should be treated as such. If you or a loved one is in a similar situation to anything contained in this post or my blog in general, please seek help. You're in charge of your internet consumption; please make responsible choices. With that, enjoy!

WC: 11K

DARLING PROFILE: 

Introverted  

Koutarou is a lot. He knows it, his team knows it, hell, the entire league knows it.

His energy is difficult to match; he’s a ray of sunshine, blinding yet impossible to look away from, someone with boundless amounts of energy, someone friendly and extraverted to an almost extreme.

Because he is so rambunctious and loud, he would actually really enjoy a partner who mellows him out a bit more, someone who isn’t constantly hyper and talkative and wanting to spend hours on end with other people.

He works well with Akaashi; who is quiet, calm and not as talkative, and his darling would likely reflect that in many ways – the serenity, the sense of peace and calmness, the idea that they aren’t constantly jumping with energy, constantly bursting at the seams to go do something.

Ideally though, he’d enjoy a partner who is still willing to talk, who’s willing to indulge him in conversation and compliment him and give him that adorable smile, just not a social butterfly like himself. It makes him feel privileged, special because his darling wants to speak to him, that they’re using their precious social battery on him him him.

He’s in awe that they start conversations with him; his darling, who so often doesn’t utter a word around crazy people such as himself, who sees someone as hyper as him and immediately run for the hills.

It makes his ego flare, and he can’t deny how adorable they are when they get embarrassed at his attention, when they roll their eyes and shove his shoulder lightly, when they freeze and cower as he loudly proclaims his love for them in the middle of the movie theater and everyone looks over.

He loves it, and it’s a nice bonus that it cuts down his competition - less dirty work for him, something Koutarou is very thankful for.

Creative

Volleyball is Kotarou’s life, and as a result he hasn’t had much time to explore anything outside of it. He’s never really tried his hand at painting, playing an instrument, baking, or really any other hobby.

And of course he loves the sport dearly, but there’s something alluring to the idea of a darling that’s invested in something so completely different from himself.

It doesn’t matter what the hobby is - cooking, drawing, writing, singing, it could be anything at all.

But once Kotarou finds out his darling enjoys it, suddenly he becomes obsessed with it, wanting to learn as much as he can and hone as many talents within it as possible. In his eyes, everything his darling does is perfect, so the thing that they love most (aside from him, of course) must be amazing, right? It must be worth his time to learn about it and become familiar with it, if only just to impress his darling, if only just to share even a scrap of the love they feel for it.

He’ll beg and pester his darling to teach him, constantly asking questions and carefully watching their answers.

Because rally, while Kotarou develops an interest in the activity because of his darling’s love, he also becomes familiar with the hobby because he lives for the way their eyes light up when they’re concentrating. They look absolutely gorgeous, even more beautiful than normal, something sparkling in their eyes.

His knees grow weak when he sees them biting their lip or sticking out their tongue in concentration, his feelings only growing ten-fold and becoming stronger because it’s just so incredibly endearing that his darling has something they love enough to be this devoted.

They get this ethereal glow about them and Kotarou genuinely can’t take his eyes off of them when they’re in that mode.

And so instead of listening to their instructions, he finds himself drifting into fantasies of them finally getting that glow and radiance when thinking about him. It’s what fuels him, what gives him energy.

He just wants his darling to adore him in the way that he adores them.

Nurturing

If his darling is anything, they have to be supportive.

Poor Kotarou is in constant need of reassurance, and his darling has to be willing to put up with that. They have to be willing to deal with the emotional labor of constantly praising him, of telling him wonderfully talented he is, how funny, how charming, how handsome, any and all compliments they can think of.

Their kind words go straight to his heart, making his body feel fuzzy and warm, an unstoppable grin stretches across his face and his words excited as he asks them really? Are you sure?

He’s overwhelmed by the idea of his darling thinking such thoughts about him - they think he’s strong? They think he’s talented? They think he’s amazing?

Needless to say, a few simple words of praise from his darling are enough to get Kotarou’s entire mood shifting, his metaphoric feathers ruffling and a pleasant, gooey feeling in his heart making him feel lighter than air because oh, they think he’s attractive and fun to be around?

He loves how easily they’re able to make him feel good about himself, and he can only hope to return the favor.

As a result, he’ll compliment his darling often, completely out of the blue and about odd, but strangely endearing things. He just wants them to feel how good they make him feel, and he’ll do anything to get them there. 

Competitive

While his darling needs to be someone capable of spilling praise at a moment’s notice, Kotarou also finds himself attracted to those who has a healthy sense of competition in life.

As a professional athlete, he takes competition very seriously, and is also the type to find that a bit of competition is the perfect thing to spice up a relationship. He loves the idea of having a friendly rivalry with his darling – perhaps at something entirely stupid, like mini-golf or slugbugging or something equally childish.

Regardless, he likes the idea of his darling and him being playful together, of having someone he can establish that teasing rapport with. Besides, while he can sometimes be a bit of an emotional wreck, Kotarou finds emotional intelligence extremely attractive.

Thus, having a partner that’s capable of gracefully winning and losing is wildly attractive to him – they’re able to regulate themselves and put others’ thoughts and feelings into perspective.

He cares too much about other people to have a darling with little to no awareness of others’ feelings, and to have a darling that manages to merge in this awareness alongside a healthy appetite for competition and teasing?

Well, Kotarou finds himself falling hard and fast, loving the idea of a darling who’s so mature yet so wonderfully immature – perfect for someone like him.

(And, though he isn’t consciously thinking about it, perfect for a mother – he won’t explicitly bring up the topic of marriage and children, but he enters every relationship with the thought in mind, always hopeful that perhaps he’s finally found the right woman. And lucky him, he has – his wonderful, wonderful darling.)

GENERAL YANDERE TRAITS:

Clingy

He’s naturally quite affectionate with those around him, for better or worse. He’s always looking for someone to talk to, hang out with, goof around with, and once his feelings for you form, so lovely and horrible and overwhelming, this trait is only amplified.

It only increases monumentally with the absolute need to constantly be around you, to have your attention solely on him because god, seeing your pretty eyes focused on him makes his heart race so fast he thinks he’s dying.

He wants you to be looking at him at all times, thinking about him every minute of the day, be craving him as much as he craves you. He wants you to daydream about him smiling at you, making you bite your lip and stare at the ground while you fight back a flustered, school-girl-esque grin because god, isn’t he just so dreamy?

He wants you to be fantasizing about hugging him, feeling his strong, muscular arms wrapped around your body while he nuzzles into your neck, whispering your name in a hoarse voice that gets you shivering and nudging your thighs together because fuck, how can anyone sound that good?

Honestly, the idea of you thinking of him is enough to have him grinning with his eyes squeezed shut, a slight flush on his cheeks as he pumps his fist and lets out a victorious laugh.

(There have been quite a few instances of you patting him on the back, albeit awkwardly, to which he responded with a resounding hey, hey, hey! that sounded much too close to a moan and raised his fist to the sky – you’ve never understood why his voice gets all high and shaky like that, but somehow it seems you’d rather not know the answer.)

He thrives on your physical touch, your sweet words and glossy eyes staying fixed on him, and you’ll quickly notice how Koutarou always seems to just be around, how those golden eyes never really seem to leave, his gray and black hair standing out in your peripheral, followed shortly by a cheerful yell of your name and a bone crushing hug that makes you wheeze and shiver as you realize there’s something pressing into your thigh, oh god why is he hard and nuzzling his face into your neck and is he sighing?

It’s almost flattering at first – not expected, but sweet that he seems to feel so close to you, until it’s happening every day, every time he sees you – he’s always hugging you, holding your hand, ruffling your hair, calling you so cute, isn’t she Akaashi? Makes me wanna eat her right up!

It’s endearing and you’ll be flattered that a famous, attractive professional athlete is so obviously interested in you, but it becomes less and less endearing as time passes. It becomes less cute when he’s making some offhand comment about how you must’ve changed your shampoo – he distinctly remembers your hair smelling like strawberries, and now it has more of a lavender scent; but don’t worry, you smell great either way, cutie!

It becomes less flattering as he tells you while you’re being forced to sit in his lap as the team puts up the volleyball nets that you seemed like you were hesitant to come to practice with me today – is there something I don’t know about? Are you seeing someone else? What aren’t you telling me? It’s not nice to keep secrets from boyfriends, you know.

Quickly you’ll come to realize that Kotarou’s level of dependence on you is completely unwarranted for how close your relationship really is, but there isn’t much you can say to change this fact – he’s clingy, he needs your affection and attention, and when you ask Akaashi or Atsumu about it, about why he seems so needy and so obsessed with you, they’ll both write it off as Bokuto and his fleeting feelings, just his childish nature at work.

And when you try to confront him about it, to tell him that you’re uncomfortable with him suddenly springing up on you from behind, pinning you against a desk with his body looming over you while he inhales deeply and whispers about how pretty you look in your new skirt, he’ll just frown, pouting down at you while he whines about how he isn’t trying to be weird, that he just wants to show you how much he cares, how much he loves you.

He’ll only lean more weight on you, hug you tighter and whisper about how he knows you want this just as bad as he does, that it’s only normal for boyfriends to want to touch their girlfriends, to want to spend time with them and hear their compliments and care for each other.

It’s natural, he explains, to be always by your side, for you to never leave his field of vision – which is why you’ll find yourself coming to most MSBY practices and games decked out in the #12 spare jersey he not so subtly demanded you wear (that still very much has the fresh scent of a recent workout in it – something about pheromones and marking you, Kotarou had explained, with words too quick and slurred for you to really understand).

You’ll find yourself spending most of your meals either by his side or in his lap (trying to ignore the way a certain hardness presses against your ass if you move too much, if you’re squirmin’ so much cutiepie, you okay?).

You’ll be walked home everyday from your job and convinced to spend the evening with him, though he spends more time staring at you than watching the movie you’d thrown on.

And really, you can tell yourself every day that you’ll finally stand up to him, that you’ll finally end this bizarre, possessive behavior coming from a man you aren’t even dating, but each time you bring it up, those soft golden eyes will have you feeling like you’re kicking a puppy, his entire aura being shut down in a heartbeat at your stuttered I-I think we need to take some time apart…

Kotarou isn’t doing it on purpose, but you’ll be extremely hard pressed to ever really change the way he acts around you – it makes you feel too guilty, like you’re spinning the situation into so much more than it really is.

So, when you bite your lip and shake your head, giving him a shaky smile and telling him that you changed your mind, he’s beaming and letting out a cheer and scooping you into his arms to swing you around in circles, despite your demands that you must be too heavy to carry, that he’s making such a scene and the entire restaurant is staring and god, he just loves you so much, he knew you were meant for him and your acceptance only proves this!

It’s not so big a deal, right? Kotarou is mostly harmless, doesn’t mean anything weird by his touchiness, his desperation to be with you, right? It’s just a short term thing, soon his attention will move on, right?

Possessive

Kotarou, while incredibly empathetic and intuitive to other peoples’ emotions, does not handle his own especially well.

He’s terrible at stopping himself from having extreme highs and lows over the pettiest things, and this doesn’t stop at just volleyball, at just his normal life – no, his love for you is most definitely affected by this as well. Namely, in the form of jealousy; he’s a firm believer in faithfulness and loyalty, in the idea that you have one and only one partner, that they should be enough for you and that other men and women are essentially just background noise for the real one, the one that makes your heart race, your palms sweat and a lovely sort of nervousness to grow in the pit of your stomach.

He’s always believed in this, and once his infatuation with you forms, this philosophy most certainly doesn’t change; if anything, he clings onto the idea with frantic fingers, clutching at the concept of you looking at no one else for any reason whatsoever.

He’s plagued with the fear that someone will try and interfere with your relationship, that someone will come along and try and tear the two of you apart – he’s terrified of losing you, of losing who he genuinely believes to be his true love to some other man, to some other loser who decided you were pretty and would be a fun catch.

Kotarou is self-aware enough to know that he isn’t the ideal man, that you likely don’t love his mood swings, his habits of switching emotions quicker than you can likely keep up. He knows this, which is why it makes it so much more painful when that coworker of yours starts talking to you more, looking at you with such light and happy eyes, staring at you with what Kotarou is absolutely sure is a blush on his cheeks, when he’s leaning in way too much.

His possessiveness flares up especially in his sadder moments – when he’s already spiraling into a fit of self-doubt, it’s easy to read too far into any situation in which your gaze flickers over to another guy, easy to over examine the way you quickly apologize after bumping into a player on the opposite team in the hallway.

It’s so fucking easy to feel like his place as your rightful partner, as your lover and boyfriend and future husband is being threatened when he sees literally anyone approach you – because really, Kotarou can’t help but wonder if you’d like them more, if maybe you’re only nice to him and letting him hug you, compliment you, and everything else because you feel sorry for him, because you’re pitying him.

And it’s those thoughts that drive him to march up to you and pull you into his chest, to press your ear against his heart while he buries his face in your hair, tears streaming down his cheeks as he asks in a whisper if he’s still enough, if you’ve found someone else, if you even really love him.

And really, as disarming and disorienting as it is, there’s some part of you that will feel bad for him, that will want to comfort this man so obviously in need of praise, so obviously in need of someone to tell him that yes, he’s enough, yes you love him and you’ll always love him.

Even if it’s not true – even if it’s just something you’re saying out of a misplaced sense of guilt, even if it’s something you’ll find yourself horribly regretting the deeper into delusion Kotarou sinks. And so, as you promise that you do in fact want him, that you need him as badly as he needs you and that you’ll never, ever leave him, Kotarou slowly begins to relax, melting into your arms and trying to calm his ragged breaths, the racing of his heart, the tears flowing down his cheeks.

It’s difficult, but as he pulls back and sees your confused, beautiful fucking face, a small smile makes its way onto his lips, the knowledge that you’ll never leave him ringing in his head. Because really, how could he ever ask for anything more?

All he needs is you you you, and now that you’ve promised him, he’ll hold you to it. And when you’re trapped by his side some time later, those strong arms wrapped suffocatingly tight around your waist and his grin big and dopey and scary as he promises to never, ever let you leave his side, you’ll really only have yourself to blame. Because really, while Kotarou’s jealousy manifests mostly as self-deprication and an increased need for your reassurance and praise, ultimately you’ll be the one to push forward his dependence on you.

You’re the one telling him that he’s wonderful, that you’re not interested in any other men, that he’s every girl’s dream. It’s small things that slowly build up, feeding into Kotarou’s delusions until he’s too far gone to really even listen to you anymore; picking and choosing what he wants to hear from you, twisting your words into some grand declaration of love that gets him smiling like a fool, crushing you into his arms and leaving your lips bruised with the ferocity of his kisses.

You’re just so perfect, huh?

Delusional

But in an extremely specific way – on his own, Kotarou isn’t a particularly delusional man. He’s tied to his beliefs, yes, but he’s grounded and lucid enough to understand the importance of seeing multiple perspectives, of listening to others, of staying in touch with reality and not letting himself get too carried away.

And this is still true in the beginnings of his obsession – he knows that you’re just friends, that you have a budding friendship that he’d like to progress into something more, something deeper and more romantic in its origin. And he’s strict about this for a long time – going to Akaashi for dating advice or asking the ever-grumpy Sakusa how he thinks Kotarou should approach you.

(Akaashi gives much, much more insightful advice than his teammate, of course – telling Kotarou to take things slow and listen to what you want, to let you guide the pace and direction of the relationship. Sakusa merely scoffs and tells him to stop being loud and irritating, and you might have a shot.)

And Kotarou sticks to this advice well in the beginning – establishing a positive connection with you and letting you get comfortable, your friendship blossoming and growing into one that you can foresee being one of your most cherished.

But then elements of his infatuation begin developing, and suddenly that advice gets a bit warped, his understanding of your intentions slowly crumbling away because of one critical, crucial factor: Kotarou grows an incredibly strong sense of attachment towards you.

He’s already quite physically touchy and needy as it is, but as his obsession with you progresses, this dependency morphs into not only the more tactile side of things, but his mental state as well. He quickly grows to absolutely need you in every sense of the word; you’re something that keeps him tethered, grounded. Your love and attention is something that he needs in order to survive, in order to wake up everyday and get himself out of bed because he knows that he’ll get to see you today, to hug you and touch you and maybe even kiss you if he can catch you off guard enough.

Within the span of a few months after he recognizes that his feelings for you are more romantic than platonic, Koutarou’s entire mental health and wellbeing revolves around you and the attention you give him.

The advice of his friends still rings through his head, but he instead begins interpreting your actions as you wanting to foster this dependency of his. He thinks that you’re aware of his brewing feelings, and that you feel the same way – surely that’s what you mean when you always praise him, right? His every action comes back to you; he hits a spike in a match he got you exclusive, front-row player’s box seats for?

Well, he’s immediately peering up into the stands, golden eyes frantically searching for you, and once he spots you he’s waving like a madman, blowing obnoxious kisses at you, proudly exclaiming that was for you babe! And he’ll keep going until you acknowledge him, until you give him a thumbs up and a toothy smile, until you yell back that you’re so proud of you, Ko!

(Of course, the phrasing of ‘babe’ is a bit suspect, but you’ll blame it on mishearing him in the loud, packing stadium.)

When he tries out a new recipe for a particular dish he knows you love, he’s eager to call you, begging you to drop whatever it is you’re doing and swing by his apartment to try because he really, really needs you to say you like it.

(He’ll be watching with rapt attention as you hover the fork to your lips, practically not breathing as he watches you chew and swallow, his palms so sweaty and clammy that he nearly drops the pan in excitement when you compliment the food. Don’t pay attention to the way he gulps loud enough for you to hear, nor the way he grabs you by the waist and spins you around, laughing that booming laugh of his and seeming much too joyous for a simple well-cooked meal.)

Everything comes back to the basic principal that Koutarou just wants desperately to impress you – he thrives on your praise, seeing you proud of him and happy to call him yours, and he’s leaping at each and every possible chance to achieve that, to make you laugh and wrap your arms around him, to whisper into his ear that you’re so proud baby, I know you worked so hard, now what’dya say we go home and I reward you for all that hard work, just how you like it?

He’s committed to being your dream partner, to being someone you can proudly call your own, and he quite literally needs you praise and validation in every aspect of his life to solidify his delusions about the way you feel for him – your opinion is something he values over his own life, your presence something he genuinely believes he can’t live without, and so to have you by his side constantly, always smiling at him and making him feel so giddy and happy is something that Kotarou really honestly needs.

The bottom line is that his entire emotional and mental state rests firmly upon your shoulders, firmly upon your reactions to the things he does for you – so keep that in mind as he rushes up to you with the excitement and energy of a puppy, ranting and raving about how he managed to hit one of Atsumu’s new kinds of tosses or block one of Hinata’s best spikes.

Keep it in mind as he presses you flush against his body, his face buried into your neck, his audible inhale and whimper that vibrates against your skin making a shiver shoot up your spine in anything but pleasure. Keep in mind that now it’s your responsibility to keep Kotarou happy, that your job is essentially to make sure that he stays at least somewhat stable.

(With the pressure coming from the entire management staff of the MSBY team, who’ve realized that Kotarou has a bit of a massive crush on you – you, who isn’t doing the best financially, who could very much not survive a class-action lawsuit for ruining one of their star players.)

And once he’s stolen away, it’s your responsibility to keep him happy so that he keeps leaving the apartment, leaving you, making sure that you have enough food and water to survive, so that his depressive episodes don’t cost you your life.

So really, have fun; because eventually the emotional toll will hit you, but don’t worry because Kotarou will be right there to help pick you up again.

DEALING WITH RIVALS:

Because his jealous streak is really quite strong, Koutarou has a tendency to misinterpret nearly every single interaction you have with a member of the opposite sex.

He’s automatically assuming that everyone is interested in you, that everyone wants to date you and make you smile and kiss you and fuck you, all of which are things that only he should be allowed to do. He’s jumping to conclusions before things really even happen, sure that you’ll somehow be manipulated into leaving him, into leaving the happy, loving relationship you share with him.

It’s a fear that permeates his every moment when he’s away from you (something that is admittedly quite rare, but still), that seeps into the back of his mind no matter how hard he tries to convince himself that you love him, that you’d never cheat on him or trade him in for someone better.

 Of course, he trusts you enough to not immediately act upon his jealousy when he notices another man in your vicinity. Rather, he’ll start demanding your attention even more, trying to keep you physically turned away from the stranger and keep your eyes focused only on Kotarou, because if you can’t see the man, the man can’t see you, right?

It’s poor logic, and Kotarou panics the entire time he tries to stall, only able to imagine the way you’d look by this new man’s side.

And at the end of the day, that’s really it – Kotarou knows that he’s not perfect. You, with your lovely figure, beautiful face, wonderful personality, and many talents, could really get any guy of your choice. So why would you want him?

He seems confident, like he has no doubts about himself and his abilities, and for the most part he doesn’t, but there’s just something about you that makes him constantly reanalyze himself, that makes him wonder if he’s really enough, if he could ever really be enough for someone as perfect as you.

Sure he’s athletic, friendly, handsome, kind, but he’s not the number one hitter in the league, not the brightest, not the most charming, not the best looking or most mysterious or funniest or any number of other things that you might find more attractive.

And as time passes this eats away at Kotarou’s mind, driving him insane the longer it occupies the back of his thoughts because he just can’t shake the image of you in another man’s arms, laughing and kissing them and just being so fucking happy without him.

He’s dependent on you to an unhealthy degree, absolutely fixated on the idea of needing you in his life, and so Kotarou doesn’t really hold back in terms of trying to control his jealousy – he knows he needs to step in before you even get the chance to be lulled in by some other man. He needs to interfere before he loses you forever, and while he knows you’re probably embarrassed by how he barges in anytime you talk to someone else, Kotarou doesn’t let it hold him back.

Nothing can hold him back in the face of something as terrifying as losing you.

You’d never pegged Kotarou as one for video games, but when he’d dragged you to the new arcade that opened up a few blocks from his house, he practically seemed like a child in a toystore.

With his hand wrapped tightly around yours, he’d led you through row after row of game machines, golden eyes wide as he pointed to each and every one, promising you that he’d beat this one in two tries, or that one with his eyes closed. It’d been endearing in a way, watching how excited he’d gotten, before he dragged you over to a game in the far corner with especially bright lights and all sorts of noises coming from it.

He’d challenged you, telling you with a booming laugh that he’d bet you couldn’t beat him, a challenge you eagerly accepted. And really, while he’d been mildly embarrassed to sheepishly admit he’d run out of quarters after his fifth try through the game, it didn’t stop him from practically sprinting up to the ticketing counter, digging in his wallet for the largest dollar bill he had on hand to trade in. Leaving you alone at the game, biting your lip and reading over all the cartoon-style text decorating the game’s exterior.

You were so engrossed in the game’s appearance that you didn’t hear the blond man’s calls to you, shy little excuse me’s falling on deaf ears. Soon a tapping at your shoulder tapped you out of your reverie, spinning around to come face to face with a man you’d never seen before. Sandy blond hair and thick rimmed glasses sitting atop a rather brightly colored dress shirt and dark jeans.

Do you know how to play? Even his voice seemed timid, and while you were a bit shocked at his question, you’d only smiled and said no, hoping the man would drop some hints on ways to beat Kotarou – hearing his boasting was worse than hearing his moping, after all.

The man seemed relieved, moving forward to restart the game and talking you through the level, telling you tips on when to jump, which treasure chests were worth more, tricks on how to move the toggle piece, even telling you that the game would sometimes glitch and delete off ten seconds to your total time if you moved just right.

You’d thanked him profusely, excitement brewing in your chest at the thought of how you would crush Kotarou, but the sudden feeling of being watched washed over you and left you stiffening up, no longer paying attention to the stranger’s words.

In less than a moment, you were suddenly pushed from behind, spun around so that your back was pressed against the arcade wall, the breath knocked out of your lungs and Kotarou’s face – fit with a scowl – filling up your entire view.

Your surprised yelp was cut off by him suddenly lunging forward, his lips settling onto yours hard enough to make you flinch a bit. He kissed you roughly, loudly, the sound of wet smacking filling your ears and surely the stranger’s, if his facial expression was anything to go by. With red cheeks and a shocked look spread across his features, the man was quick to stutter an apology and speed off, trying to avoid the sight of Kotarou pressing you tighter against the wall and the sound of his groans and grunts.

As soon as the man was out of sight, Kotarou pulled back, licking his lips and looking at you with something akin to hunger swirling in those golden eyes.

Who was that?

Is all he got out, hands still firmly placed at your waist.

Your shock barred you from answering right away, before a resounding smack rung through his ears, the mild pain of your slap to his chest leaving him winded, the pleasant sensation of you touching him numbing out some of the hot, angry envy in his veins.

What the hell was that, Kotarou? You practically yell at him, the sound drowned out by the ringing of a few games nearby.

Kotarou only sighs, squeezing your sides and fixing you with an unblinking stare.

That man was bothering you, couldn’t he see you were here with me?

At your bewildered look, he merely laughed, one hand coming up to teasingly ruffle your hair. Don’t worry about it, I’m sure he’ll leave us alone for the rest of the day. Now c’mon, I got more quarters – watch me win!

And just like that, he seemed to have forgotten all about the rather heated, intimate moment he’d instigated – all smiles and laughter and taunts for the rest of the day as you shakily and wearily settled by his side, trying to rationalize that perhaps it looked different to an outsider.

Perhaps Kotarou thought the man was bothering you, and was worried he’d only get the hint through extreme measures. And he’s always been a bit extreme and exaggerated, surely he meant nothing by the kiss – even if it had been rather graphic, even if he’d been practically moaning at just the taste of you.

That must be it, you decide, as Kotarou whines and pouts about losing the level once more, begging you to give him just one more try. The small, half-hearted smile you give him is enough permission for him, and just that look settles the raging jealousy in his heart.

You were looking at him again, just as you should be – him and him only.

(And later that night, that’s what’s falling past his lips in a mantra as he vividly remembers the feel of your body in his hands, your lips pressed against his own, the smell of you clouding his every breath.)

TAKING HIS DARLING AWAY:

Kotarou’s infatuation with you is, in most ways, strange.

He’s utterly obsessed, of course – his every waking moment is either revolving around volleyball or you, often times mixing and jumbling up so that he’s imagining all sorts of things that get him grinning like a fool, his cheeks bright red and his breathing too heavy to be considered normal.

(Things like seeing you wear his jersey, for example, or having you toss him a ball that he smacks so hard it hurts, seeing your impressed and flustered expression as he teases you about how strong he is. The kind of thing that makes his chest swell with pride, that makes him bite his lip and clutch at his covers late at night when he’s dreaming and wanting and needing you.)

His feelings for you carelessly breach any sort of trust or boundaries between the two of you, and for the most part Kotarou doesn’t see an issue with this.

Of course you probably don’t like when he checks the tracker he’d installed into your phone, but it’s just for safety and he’s sure you’ll eventually understand! It’s unsafe to let someone like you travel around alone at night (or in the day, or in crowded streets or public parks or even in the safety of your own home-).

He’s just taking an extra precaution to make sure someone’s got an eye on you – he’d be more than happy to install a tracker into his phone for you to keep tabs on his location too, if you’d like. (And oh, he wishes you’d like that.)

You’re probably not the biggest fan of when he wraps an arm around you in public, beaming and planting a wet, long kiss against your temple as he greets you, walking to your favorite coffee shop with his arm still wrapped around you, migrating down to your waist and making walking uncomfortable while he prattles on and on about his latest training regiment.

(And sure, maybe he’s exaggerating just a hair about how much he can bench press, or how fast his serves are, but those golden eyes of his are constantly scanning your expressions, looking for even the slightest hint of awe, analyzing any signs that you’re impressed with his physical prowess, his dedication. Impressed by him, really.)

And so really, Kotarou breaks every physical and intangible barrier and wall that you have down, slowly and bit by bit until you’re so desensitized to his antics and his behavior towards you that you stop questioning it. You’re not exactly supportive of the possessive, overly clingy way he treats you, but it’s just Kotarou, so really how harmful can it be? He’s just a silly, overgrown puppy of a man, and why should you ever be afraid of him?

And Kotarou’s feelings towards your living situation reflect this sentiment – that is, he absolutely does not want to kidnap you.

Not only does he find the term entirely unapplicable to your situation if he were to steal you away (because he’s convinced that on some core level you’d actually be pleased, like you want him to whisk you away and keep you wrapped up in his apartment as his little housewife), but it leaves an unpleasant taste in his mouth to imagine keeping you cooped up in one place all the time.

He loves to be out with you, to take you to markets and restaurants and movies and all sorts of other things – he likes having you out in public. It stresses him out a bit, yes, constantly being vigilant and aware of any man that tries to approach you, but by and large he finds that he enjoys your company most and enjoys showing you off most when you’re not all alone at home.

That isn’t to say that he dislikes cozy movie nights spent on his couch with now-cold takeout sprawled across the table, but there’s just something special about seeing you laugh so hard you cry because of him in a busy, sunny street café where everyone can see just how entertained you are by him.

(Those cozier evenings are of course favorites of him, though, because he gets to see a more intimate side of you – when you get sleepy and your eyes start drooping, he has to physically hold himself back from cooing and squishing your cheeks. And especially when you fall asleep on his shoulder or shift just right so that he worm his way into your arms, noticing how your flimsy sleeping shorts ride up just a hair to expose the lower curve of your ass, his mouth is left watering and his own shorts feel uncomfortably tight – something he'd be absolutely crazy to dislike.)

And so, Kotarou will hold off for as long as possible on stealing you away, just for the selfish reason of being able to drag you to all his games, to pretty dates (that you aren’t aware are dates, of course, but that’s just a technicality), to keep you happy and excited and free by his side.

But if things were to go south and you started to really critically analyze his behavior and decide that you don’t want to remain in his life?

Well, Kotarou has never quite felt panic like when you swing by his apartment one last time to announce that you’re moving away. He’s never quite felt a level of dismay like when you tell him you’ll be blocking his number because he’s made you uncomfortable, or when you tell him you’ll be crashing at a male friend’s place.

And really, that last portion is the kicker – it sends Kotarou’s mind spiraling, panic engulfing him and leading him to grab you, his hands shaking as he holds you, eyes flashing as he drags you to his bedroom, holding you down on the bed and using a spare t-shirt to tie up your wrists and ankles.

He’s never known fear like this before, and as he stares down at you – writhing, looking at him with tears in your eyes, looking at him –

He’s never quite known excitement like this before, either.

As a captor, Kotarou isn’t terrible – with one glaring exception: he’s needy. You’ve known this for as long as you’ve known him, but once you’re trapped in his home this is only amplified, the clinginess getting worse and worse because you have no way to dissuade his touchiness, no way to distract him away with outside people and activities.

No, now it’s strictly you and him – which is heaven for Kotarou, exactly what he’s been fantasizing about come to life.

Unfortunately for you, this means excessive time spent together and a lot of physical contact. Though his delusions aren’t quite deep enough to fully mask the fact that you’re unhappy, Kotarou is able to chalk up your lack of enthusiasm for things you did pre-kidnapping as you simply being moody, shy, womanly.

It’s infuriating how much he blames your behavior on your hormones and menstrual cycle.

He’s practically impossible to deal with once your period begins, his touches soft and gentle and nearly scared, treating you like you’re some breakable, delicate piece of treasure that can’t do anything on your own.

He’ll cook meals for you, then promptly bring the chopsticks up to your mouth and say ahh, smiling like a fool as he guides the ramen past your lips, nodding enthusiastically when you chew.

He’ll hold your hand and help you walk around the apartment, big eyes wide and worried when you near any corners, terrified that you’ll somehow hurt yourself because you’re distracted with cramp pain or simply having brain fog. And really, it would be endearing how earnestly he’s trying to make you comfortable and provide for you during your time of the month, but there’s something truly humiliating about the level of disregard he feels for your complaints, simply smiling lopsidedly at you and telling you don’t worry, I’ll make it all better! I’ve got some of that chocolate you like, you want some? I can heat up your heating pad too, and we can watch some old reruns of my games – you’d like that, right? You like watching me play, yeah?

And really, that’s the main thing with Kotarou – the level of care and attention he both gives to you and demands from you is incredibly draining.

The constant feeling of walking on eggshells around him is enough to have your mind running in circles, constantly worried that you’ll say the wrong thing about his personality or his actions and have him moping, convinced that you’re just being mean because you’re disappointed in him, that you’re just playing hard to get because he hasn’t been treating you like you deserve. And so how does he respond to this?

By giving you more attention, swamping you with questions and touches and all sorts of things for the two of you to do together. He’s always forcing you onto the couch to try out a new video game Akinori mentioned when he last ran into him, or watching a scary movie and clutching onto you for dear life at every jump scare.

(He thinks it’s romantic, but the slight bruising left on your thighs and sides from his very, very tight grip are less sweet.)

He’s just generally so very out of touch with how you’re feeling that it’s infuriating – but you have to be careful, because everything you do and say will only cause him to grasp onto you tighter, clutching onto you with more strength than you can handle because his entire mental wellbeing is still resting firmly on your shoulders. He forces you to sleep in bed beside him, waking up to you tangled in his arms every morning, starting his day off right and making it slightly easier to leave you for early morning trainings.

(He has to wake up with you every morning or else he feels like something’s off, his performance severely lacking and the only thing that can fix it being excessive affection from you – something a bit difficult to come by.)

He forces you to share meals with him because it gives him a reason to unabashedly stare at you (though he does this anyway, frequently) and watch as you eat the food he provided you. He has to be the sole one cooking or buying you take out, because it feeds the narrative he’s crafted in his head that he’s your provider, that he’s taking care of you, that he’s being a good male partner and spoiling his perfect little wife.

(Of course, you may not be married yet, but to Kotarou it’s just a matter of time – you’re already entwined in every possible way, living together and spending every waking moment together, so why bother with formal ceremonies and official titles when he can just buy a diamond and slip onto your finger with a toothy grin and a much too long and much too detailed declaration of his love? Of course, if you want the ceremony he’d be more than willing to give it to you, but he’s content with the knowledge that you’re his and his alone already.)

So really, if you can handle his hands constantly being on you, his lips always pressed against your skin, his voice always ringing in your ears, and his presence always a looming shadow over you demanding your praise and attention and time, Kotarou isn’t terrible.

There’s shades of genuine love in how he treats you – the gentleness in his touches, the tenderness of his compliments, the way he’ll moan into your ear the most adoring, utterly pathetic things as he settles himself between your legs.

There’s evidence that he truly loves you in some horrible, twisted way, but it all just feels like too much. Too forceful, too desperate, too passionate, too him.

But no amount of trying to get through to him will ever change the way he treats you, or ever persuade him into loosing the metaphorical lease he keeps you on – you’re his, and no matter how hard you try Kotarou will always firmly believe that fate has brought you together.

And isn’t that so romantic?

PUNISHMENTS:

In general, it’s rare for Kotarou to get genuinely angry at you.

Of course he has his highs and lows – he may be unwilling to seriously listen to your complaints or insults hurled at him, but he’s not inhuman. He still knows that you’re being mean – criticizing him and visibly displeased with him, and just that fact alone has his eyes drooping, guilt, self-pity and shame resting heavily on his shoulders.

His delusions about your feelings for him bar him from fully comprehending that your anger lies in the fact that he’s kidnapped you rather than not cuddling with you the night before, but he can still tell that something is amiss. He doesn’t like when you aren’t smiling and happy, when you’re bothered and troubled, when you aren’t acting like you used to, back before he relocated you to his apartment.

It’s upsetting, really, and it leaves Kotarou desperate to figure out how to get a grin back onto your lips, how to make you laugh, how to please you again. A lot of Kotarou’s anger and punishments stem from a place of insecurity and worry about your perception of him – he’s really quite sensitive, especially coming from someone he idolizes and reveres as much as you, and so his solutions to any sort of non-desirable behavior from you is to simply try harder.

It’s seemed to have worked in his career – hours upon hours upon hours spent lagging after practices to work on his spikes just a bit more, to serve just a few more balls, to get just a bit better.

And he applies this same principle with you – he’d rather pull his nails off one by one than physically hurt you or deny you of food and water or leave you all alone or any number of things he could do to force your codependency on him to become stronger.

And so, Kotarou wracks his brain for any and all possibilities on how to get you to like him more, on how to make you happy, on how to be a better boyfriend.

And frankly, it results in a much, much worse time for you.

If you thought Kotarou was clingy before you yelled at him for installing locks on his windows, then he’s downright glued to your side afterwards, his breath constantly fanning on your cheeks and his voice seemingly never ending as it rings over and over and over in your ears.

If you thought being in the same room as him was difficult before you slapped him across the face for giving your ass a playful squeeze, it’s nothing compared to how he plants more and more kisses onto your unwilling lips, leaving pretty dresses and lacy lingerie out on your (forcefully shared) bed for you, the way he starts piling on the compliments with such frequency and urgency that it nearly makes you sick.

Kotarou has always been a lot, truly, and once his feelings for you are thrown into the mix he becomes too much – and when you’re angry at him, ignoring him or hurling insults at him or denying his affection?

Well, the sadness quickly dissipates into fear, anxiety eating at every inch of his body because what if you hate him now?

You’re meant for one another, sure, but what if he’s messed it all up by not being enough for you?

It’s the stuff of nightmares, and in order to correct it he’ll instead become your nightmare.

You hear him before you see him – his keys jingle loudly in his pocket, the rhythmic noises of the padlock on the front door locking back up sounding too familiar now. You’re sitting at the dining table, staring down at the new book Kotarou had gifted you a week ago – you’ve read it twice already in that span of time, but as his footsteps approach the kitchen area, you resolve to read it once again.

His voice is loud as he calls your name, and you can hear the smile on his face as his footsteps quicken, his pace nearly turning to a run as he approaches you. His arms are around you before you can stop them, his words already pouring out as he starts telling you all about his day, rambling on about how Meian and Hinata had promised to take Kotarou out to a new bar later this week.

He’s still hugging you as he goes on to tell you that it’s supposed to be super good, I’ll have to let you know how it is! Maybe I can bring something home for you – I know your favorite’s always been –

Your mouth is moving before you can even really stop yourself, the words seeming to burst out without your control. Don’t tell me about all your plans in the outside world – not when I’m stuck here wasting away in this fucking apartment.

Your voice is low, uneven, and immediately Kotarou tenses, his eyebrows drawing together into a pout. What are you talking about? I just want to bring you a good drink and maybe we can watch that trashy rom-com you love and –

You cut him off again by harshly shaking off his arms from around you, moving your elbows out in an attempt to get him off of you.

Don’t you get it? I don’t want you to get me a drink! I don’t want you to do anything for me – you need to let me go, Kotarou. You can’t keep me stuck here forever! I should be out there getting a drink too, and going to the fucking store and seeing my friends and living my life! You’re – you’re a terrible person, and I hate you!

Your chest is heaving by the time you finish your spiel, having started off in that same low tone but eventually getting to a yell. He’d backed off of you, watching you with wide eyes and a dropped jaw, his mind racing and trying to understand what you could possibly mean.

Stuck here? What were you saying?

You were happy here – you always return his hugs and his kisses and let him pull you closer to his chest at night and laugh at his jokes and smile at him and say you love him to and and and –

He moves back towards you, going to wrap his arms around you again, but this time you stand up and scurry off to the other end of table and now Kotarou can see the way your eyes are glossy, how you’re on the verge of tears and your lip is trembling.

Leave me alone, I can’t stand you! Not after what you’ve done to me!

And with that, you turn tail and run off to the bathroom, slamming the door shut behind you. Behind the door your hands shake, the tears finally falling as you slide down the wood, landing in a sitting position and cursing Kotarou for not putting locks on the interior doors.

A fresh wave of tears falls down your cheeks as you realize you can’t even use the toilet in peace, not without the constant, lingering threat of him watching you. It’s too much, and soon your head is in your hands, sobs wracking your body.

 Meanwhile, Kotarou is still standing frozen, his heart and mind racing because you’re obviously upset. He doesn’t know why you’re overreacting like this, but the image of you with tears in your eyes pulls at his heartstrings, prompting him to rush and grab his car keys once more, flying out the front door and practically speeding to the nearest store, his grocery cart full.

He’s home roughly twenty minutes later, tears already pooling in his own eyes because the more he’s thought about the state you’re in the more he comes to the conclusion that it’s his fault, that he must’ve made you angry or sad and now he has to fix it.

He has to show you that you don’t hate him – you’re just having a rough day, that’s all. You’re just sad that he’s been gone all day and hasn’t been home to give you the proper love and care that you deserve. His fingers grip the steering wheel tightly even to leave his knuckles white, his teeth grinding and gritting together as he presses down on the gas gauge just a hair harder, desperation and guilt weighing heavily in his chest because god, he hates seeing you so upset.

And as he races back up to the apartment with all the groceries in his arms, he’s quick to wrap his fist against the bathroom door, asking in a breathless voice if you’re okay or if you’re hurt.

You’re still quietly crying, sniffling heavily and trying to ignore him as he knocks again. He knows he could bust the door open, easily overpowering you and giving him direct access to you, but the hurt look in your eyes flashes through his mind again and he decides against it. No, he needs to prove that he’s good enough at reading you and figuring out what you need – he needs to prove himself to you, to make you like him again.

He calls your name through the door again, before resting his forehead against the wood and wincing. I’m sorry for whatever I did, baby, I promise I didn’t mean it!

 He hears you scoff at that, and bites his lip.

You know me, sometimes I just get carried away! I never meant to make you upset, you’ve got to know that. He pauses, shifting around the bags in his arms. You mean so much to me, I love you. I love you more than I think I should, but it’s okay! I’ll be better for you, I promise. I’ll be a better boyfriend and I’ll make you happy. Just – you just have to let me try, okay? Please baby, let me try.

It’s silent for a moment, and Kotarou’s chest feels tight.

Please, he tries one last time.

And although you know you shouldn’t and that you’ll regret it, some small part of you almost feels bad as you hear him sniffle through the wood, the sound of him crying obvious. You bite your lip, a small voice in the back of your head quietly wondering if you should believe him.

After all, does he really make you that unhappy? He’s always so eager and pathetically excited when you smile at him, and is it really so bad to have someone give you all their attention and time? You’re ashamed to admit some part of you almost likes it, and soon your body is moving before you can stop it.

The door opens and Kotarou’s heart is in his throat, the sight of you with red, puffy eyes and your lip caught between your teeth making something between a sigh of relief and a whimper slip from him.

The multitude of bags precariously balanced in his arms immediately have your eyes widening, the names of your favorite snacks peeking through the sacks and making that same pang in your heart twist again, the knowledge that he went out and bought all of this for you just because you were sad forcing you to take a step forward.

You don’t say anything, and Kotarou stares at you with wide eyes, a wild sort of look overtaking his parted lips and pink cheeks, and when you mumble something small, he has to physically strain himself to hear you.

You repeat your favorite drink, swallowed harshly and struggling to make eye contact with him. He mouths it back to himself, before slowly, shyly, smiling down at you.

You won’t regret, I promise! He laughs, the sound relieved, dropping all of the shopping bags on the ground and immediately scooping you into his arms, hugging you so tightly you nearly can’t breath, all the while that familiar, chiming laughter fills your ears.

I love you, I love you, I love you he repeats into your ear, keeping you close and occasionally squeezing tighter.

And even as something crumbles up inside you, you find yourself wrapping your arms around him too, shoving your face against his chest and nodding, your words muffled as you murmur the smallest  I love you, too back.

And Kotarou can only beam down at you, repeating the phrase over and over until all the words start slurring together, until all you can do is slowly relax into the warmth of his arms, into the feeling of someone completely and utterly loving you.

OVERALL DANGER:

6/10

Kotarou is less dangerous and honestly more pathetic than anything else.

He’s a fully grown man who’s desperate for someone to love, whose desperation becomes so deeply ingrained in his feelings towards you that he clutches onto you and never lets go.

Reading into your feelings festers delusions about how you feel towards him, feeding him pretty lies about how you really feel and what your actions really mean.

He builds a relationship between the two of you in his head, growing closer and more intimate with you than socially acceptable for a friendship, becoming more and more dependent on you and the praise you so willingly give him.

It’s heaven, really, and it leaves Kotarou blinded to the ugly side of his obsession.

He’s clingy and overly possessive, always touching you and calling you his and making sure that everyone sees the two of you together – that everyone knows that you’re his woman and he’s your man.

He wants to make sure that your relationship – fake or not – is idyllic, that you’re so happy with him that you could never even dream of wanting another man, never even entertain the notion of needing anyone else because Kotarou is everything you could ever want.

And while he won’t explicitly acknowledge any behavior that clashes with the pretty image of you and your love that he’s crafted in his head, he’s not immune to your negative reception of his touches and his rather aggressive affection.

You’ll have to walk on eggshells around him, careful to keep him from falling deeply into a spiral that could lead to your own slow demise being trapped under his thumb.

It’s stressful, a lifestyle that’ll leave you haggard and spent, tired to the point where slowly it will stop feeling like an act to return his hugs, to compliment his muscles, to tell him that you missed him while he was away at work.

It will feel less and less like a lie, the words slipping off your tongue so easily that it’ll leave you scared.

Because really, while Kotarou is overbearing and quite honestly scary with the way he barrels forwards and takes whatever he wants from you, eventually you’ll find yourself less and less angry, and more and more complacent. It could be worse, couldn’t it?

You have a warm bed to sleep in, a roof over your head, and food to eat.

And the man that holds you flush to his chest in said bed, pays the rent for said roof, and hand-selects only meals he knows you like can’t possibly be that bad, right?

After all, doesn’t it feel good to be needed?

[amomentsescape]

Heyyy darling,IM POLITELY BEGGING,for some stu and billy with feral ,hyper,punk gremlin s/o headcanons. Simply the boys trying to be as casual as possible so they dont get suspected for the previous murders but then they’re running around with their own little bundle of chaos. Im talking like a real troublemaker,just for the fun of it but always just watching all the drama happening,never being involved even though they caused it. For example: •causing misunderstandings in other friendgroups •cutting someone’s car wheels (or similar stuff) after they’ve been rude to someone in their friend group,maybe when gale didnt respect sidney‘s privacy in the first movie •S/O has a collection of anything shiny and glittery things they stole (from spoons to necklaces) just cause they like how it looks and they know it will cause some chaos. •Flirting with randy,tatum and stu to piss the boys off a bit •Oh or maybe billy getting them one of those vertical cloths or swings for their living room,I feel like that would fit cause billy would be a bit tired of his S/O letting their hyperness out on him. •When they come home from killing a bit later sometimes,they just find their s/o sleeping in the most uncomfy position (criss cross apple sauce type of shit) on their swing,drooling a bit,their body twitching every now and then

I dont know if any of this made sense my head is all over the place right now. <3

Billy and Stu (Separate) with Feral Gremlin Reader

Billy Loomis x Reader, Stu Macher x Reader

A/N: This was honestly so fun to write!

Billy Loomis

Boy, he didn't quite know what he was getting into when he first became interested in you

But he's in it for the long run, so here we go

Making Billy jealous is a common theme with you

Outright flirting, giggling, and dancing around with other people automatically makes Billy see red

But there's something about his possessiveness that you love so much that you keep doing it anyway

It almost always leads to a fight between Billy and the other party

And damn, isn't it fun to watch?

But that's not to say that you don't also feel your fair share of anger as well

Someone pisses you off even slightly? They're gonna regret it the next morning

Keyed cars, egged houses, graffitied threats

There is no limit to your creativity to get back at them

Billy simply huffs and puffs at you, berating you about being too "loud" with your actions

He's trying to keep things down-low by all means

And the last thing he wants is one of your actions getting him caught and put in jail

But there is something kinda attractive with how you stir up drama and give Billy some attitude

He doesn't like easy

He wants a challenge

And boy do you give him one

But on days where he simply cannot have you running amuck, he has you lay down in your own little hammock he bought you

For whatever reason, that always has you relaxed

It's like you become a whole different person with it

And Billy lets out a little "thank you" to the Gods each time he sees you just swinging away

He loves you, but damn, it's hard to keep up with you

Stu Macher

Stu on the other hand, is not phased at all by you

In fact, he matches your energy about 80% of the time

A friend pissed you off? You're both screaming and laughing while talking badly about them

Things are getting a little boring? You and Stu tell different people made up stuff that someone else is "saying" about them

You both love to stir up drama and watch how badly things can unfold

Stu is less concerned about getting caught than Billy anyways

What's even the point in killing if you can't have some fun outside of it?

So having you around is the perfect way for Stu to let out his hyper energy and keep things exciting when he isn't killing teens

But when he is out and about, he's thinking of you

You're probably at home eating all of his snacks in that moment, but he doesn't care

After his victims meet their fates, he is happy to dig around in their pockets and their homes, looking for anything even the slightest bit shiny to bring back to you

Nothing compares to the way your eyes light up at the gifts

Hell, you have a drawer in your room just filled with all things shiny and captivating

But Stu knows he'll have to wait until the morning to give you your gift

Because just about every night he comes home, he finds your head handing off the couch with your legs and arms splayed out, snoozing away

Remnants of chips and chocolate can still be found on your lips and fingertips

Stu secretly has made a photo album in his phone just for all the pictures he takes of you when you're sleeping

It's about time Stu had someone who met his chaotic energy

[daenysx]

hello lovely! for your cinnamon girl sleepover, can i request a fic with sirius black (preferably older sirius) where he comforts the reader after she's just come back from a mission and is sort of startled. she doesn't want to admit the fact that she's shaken up, since she doesn't want sirius to worry about her (they are still friends), but eventually she does give in and it's just a lot of awkward mutual pinning and unresolved tension.

feel free to ignore if it doesn't hit your creative spot! hope you have a great day/night ahead! happy fall! 🍂

happy fall, angel, i hope you enjoy <3333

sirius black x fem!reader

sirius thinks he'd really love to wrap his arm on your shoulders the moment you step inside.

you have this way of keeping people around you calm with your face expressions, you don't let them see how you feel no matter how bad the situation is. you need to deal with things by yourself before opening up, maybe even you don't realize you do this.

for sirius though, it's not hard to look into your eyes and see what's going on behind them. you sit by yourself outside after saying your good nights to everyone, your thin sweater barely functions in the september chill. you don't mind. sirius knows you don't wear an extra layer just to feel something.

it doesn't stop him from getting his jacket and walking towards you. you lift your head, a hint of a smile playing on your lips. he smiles back with a wink, always the charmer. you let him sit next to you, he puts the jacket on your shoulders. it's covered by his scent, you take a second to close your eyes and inhale without making it obvious.

"everything okay?" sirius asks, his face turned to yours. you nod. "sure. you heard the mission went well."

oh, yeah, the mission. he cares less about the mission and more about the slight wrinkle between your eyebrows right now. it looks like a kiss would help it loosen up, sadly he's not brave enough to do it just yet.

"yeah, it's- we're all glad it went well." he says, dismissing the topic. "you just seem a bit- unlike yourself."

"it's okay, sirius." you say. "i'll look like myself in the morning after i get some sleep. maybe you should do that too, it's getting late."

sweetest thing he's ever seen, how can he stop himself from leaning his face a bit more to yours? he curls his lips into a soft smile, the one he reserves only for you. he should've made you a cup of tea. he worries more than he wants to show.

"am i that boring?" he teases. "you're trying to send me away so quick, it hurts my feelings."

"come on." you shake your head. "um- you know you don't have to worry about me, right?"

"i'm not sure, darling, do i know that?"

when sirius looks at you like the way he does now, his pretty eyes wide open and his lips almost smirking, you know it's the sight you'll never get out of your head. there are many stars above the sky, and here you are, sitting next to your own star. the breeze is soft against his long hair, he keeps the eye contact going. you can feel your own eyes looking at him with a fondness you can't stop.

thankfully, he's looking at you with the same emotions. you know he won't say anything about it, though. you won't either. "thank you." you say, genuinely. "i think i'm just a bit shocked. i'll be better in the morning."

sirius slides himself closer to you. you accept his half hug, he's doing it so well. his long arm covers your shoulders, securing the jacket on your back. you sit in silence, take in the way his heart beats. you think you could survive any and every mission just to keep hearing it beat.

cinnamon girl sleepover ♡

[kinkyliterotica]

(This image belong to Sony and I do not claim ownership of it)

(Part 2)

Venom x OC Period Sex Smut

Summary: Shannon unexpectedly starts her period, Venom has a creative solution.

Warnings: Period sex, blood play, oral sex, rough sex, rough penetration

———

Shannon, Eddie, and Venom had formed a much more intimate bond since their first night together. The initial lust was strong, and Shannon’s chemistry with Venom was substantial. There were moments when Eddie felt like he’d been sidelined by his own Symbiote.

He tried to remember that he fronted most of the time, Venom had little time and space to be free. Perhaps he owed Venom this.

That evening, Eddie invited Shannon over to cook. He was not an excellent chef, but he was eager to try. Anne had done most of the cooking during their relationship, and he was ready to prove himself as a partner.

Eddie was pan frying sausage while Venom mixed pancake batter. Shannon rang the doorbell, and Venom dropped the bowl on the counter, and extended himself to answer the door.

“Hello Darling.” Venom greeted her.

Shannon moved smoothly past Venom, “Hey, sorry I have to use the restroom. Give me a sec.”

Venom was caught off guard. Eddie had to remind him to close and lock the door. Venom’s wide white eyes watched Shannon as she headed to the bathroom. Eddie continued cooking, shaking the pan to flip the sausages.

“There is something wrong, can’t you feel it?” Venom asked Eddie, his head floating next to him.

Eddie dismissed him, “What’re you talking about? She just had to use the bathroom.”

“Listen to me Eddie, I smell blood.” Venom ground out.

That got Eddie’s attention. He killed the heat on the pan, and turned his attention towards Shannon. He rushed down the hall and knocked on the door.

“Hey, are you okay in there?” Eddie asked. Venom pressed his head against the door to listen.

Shannon sighed, “Yes, I’m fine.”

Eddie didn’t want to drop this issue, he pressed on, “Venom said he smelled blood.”

Shannon was irritated, “Could I get a little privacy please?”

Eddie held his tongue, he didn’t want to piss her off, but he needed to know what was going on.

“Just tell me, are you hurt? Should I be worried?” Eddie’s voice was laced with concern.

Suddenly Shannon pulled open the door, her underwear and pants were around her ankles. On the crotch of the pants there was a puddle of red. She had fresh red blood dripping down her legs. Her brows were drawn together in frustration.

Shannon’s voice was frantic, “I started my fucking period 3 days early, I don’t have any spare clothes, and I’m bleeding everywhere!”

Eddie couldn’t hold back his laugh. He hunched forward and gripped his stomach. The laughter burst from him.

“Oh shit,” Eddie exclaimed, “I thought it was something serious.”

Shannon’s mouth formed a dangerous looking frown.

“This is serious for me Eddie.” She said between clenched teeth, “It’s humiliating. I’m a grown woman.”

Eddie realized his reaction was less than ideal, “Sorry, sorry. Let me run down to the store and grab you some stuff alright? I did it for Annie all the time. You can borrow some of my clothes.”

Before Shannon could respond, Venom consumed him. Enveloping his form, and growing around Eddie.

“What a waste. Why not let me solve your problem?” Venom purred.

His tongue lashed out, flicking through the air. Saliva dripped from it and landed on the vinyl floor beneath them.

Shannon’s brows hit the ceiling. She had not expected this kind of reaction. She stumbled back, her hand grabbing the sink for support.

“What–what do you mean, Venom?” Her voice, a moment ago so full of anger, had faded down to a meek whimper.

Venom’s enormous black arms wrapped around her, forcing her down on top of the toilet. Her bare ass shivered against the cold porcelain. Her pants and underwear were still around her ankles.

“Sit back, relaaaaaaax…” Venom’s voice was equal parts hypnotic and eerie.

His hands were so large they easily closed around her biceps. His huge body was crammed between the wall and the toilet. He got onto his knees, his head hovered right above her bleeding cunt.

Her flow had just started, the blood was fresh, and quickly pooling inside of her. It leaked out of her hole just a bit.

Venom smiled, his teeth bared, enormous and terrifying. The tip of his tongue traced his lips like he was about to devour his favorite meal. His wide white eyes looked up at Shannon’s face for a moment. There was lust there, so much lust it frightened her.

All at once his tongue dove into her. The blood inside of her made a noticeable SQUELCH. It didn’t stop Venom from digging the fat muscle futher inside. He was moaning, growling. He withdrew for just a moment, her blood coated his tongue. He swallowed it, sighing contentedly.

“What a treat!” Venom said, “I want more.”

Before Shannon could respond, his tongue was back inside of her. Exploring her folds, and lapping up all of the blood. She couldn’t hold back her own moans. Her voice was foreign to her, full of meekness and hesitation.

It did feel good. Extremely good. But all the same it was strange, this was not what she’d been expecting. She knew that Venom had eaten people before, but she didn’t know about his affinity for blood drinking. It was entirely new to her, she’d never had a guy fetishize something like that. She wondered for a moment how Eddie felt about this, if he was enjoying himself, or just allowing Venom to indulge himself. Either way, it felt too good for her to risk stopping it. Venom was fronting, so she had to trust him.

Venom’s grip on her tightened, he was truly ravenous. The blood continued to flow from her hole, and Venom drank it like it was the sweetest thing he’d ever tasted. Shannon writhed and moaned as his tongue played with her cunt. The tip traced along her folds, leaving no part untouched.

Shannon was shivering, her body unable to resist but struggling to find comfort or purchase on the seat.

“The taste of fresh blood,” Venom’s voice was deep, “There is nothing like it. Eddie does not want to scare you, but you’re not scared, are you?”

Shannon cried out, “No, no, please, keep going!”

“Yes, yes, this is all mine. There is no shame, I want all of it.”

Venom lifted her up, holding her hips and ass in his enormous hands. He buried his face in her cunt. She grasped his head for support, nearly hitting the wall. She could barely register the sensation of his tongue lapping at her pussy. He was moving so fast, she was afraid his teeth would puncture her. She wrapped her arms around his head, trying to keep herself upright.

Venom’s pace was torturous. The sounds he made were primal and deep. Eddie was in there somewhere, but now, there was only Venom.

Venom pulled his tongue out of her. She let out a held breath, tears coming to her eyes. She was shivering, her heart racing beneath her breast.

“I want more. I’ll have to speed things along.”

Venom’s hands ran up her ass, along her back, until he held her upright entirely with his own hands. He slid her down onto the floor carefully, making sure she didn’t hit the door or the counter. When Shannon was about to get her bearings, Venom’s tentacles slithered out. His tentacles wrapped around his midsection, lifting her from the ground once again. Just enough that she could be flipped over onto her knees. Her hands came up to support herself, but one of Venom’s hands pushed her down.

Her ass was prone in the air, her cheek pressed against the fuzzy rug on the floor. Her arms were tucked under her form, no space to move, she was trapped. Before fear could overcome her, Venom used one of his thick long tentacles to prepare her cunt for him. It pressed in and out of her, stretching further, going deeper. The friction on the inside of her walls was maddening, she ground against him. The tentacle suddenly swelled, pushing the limits of what her cunt could take.

“Venom, please don’t break me!” She begged.

Venom purred, the appendage stretching her did not let up, but he did slow the pace down. He gently entered, and pulled out, dragging out the sensation. His form fell over her like a shadow. His mouth was by her ear.

“I will not break you, but I will make you bleed. Again and again for me.” His voice was a promise.

The tentacle slid out of her entrance, and was quickly replaced with the tip of his cock. The head was so much larger from the back, she knew that in this position she would be the most vulnerable. She tried to take a deep breath, and steady herself. But when his dark head pressed into her heat, she whimpered.

It hurt. It hurt so much. His girth was inhuman. There was nothing that could soften this. She knew by now that enduring was the best she could do until her walls adjusted. Her cunt would learn to take him eventually.

Venom let out a dark laugh. The sound rumbled in his chest, and vibrated against her back. She wondered what had caused him to laugh, but in a moment she felt it. When his tip hit her cervix, he had caused another wave of fresh blood to flow. She was bleeding on in, because of him. It lubricated her tight hole, and provided some relief.

Venom teased, “You’re coating my cock with your sweet red juices. Such a filthy Human.”

His hips drove into her, forcing her tits to drag across the small bathroom rug. Her pelvis strained from the effort of Venom slamming into her. Venom was primal now. Growing and drooling and using all of his strength to hurt her, just enough to make her bleed once again for him.

She wondered if Venom could keep this up all night.

[gilverrwrites]

Their Perfect Dates HCs [Demon Edition]

Well.. demons + Benny

Rating: General

Angel Edition | Human Edition

Please remember: you can do hard things!

Belphegor

No gift, he’s from a time before that was a thing and does not care enough to check what the current trends are.

If you ask nice enough, he might bring you something next time.

Weirdly obsessed with humans however. (Just not in a ‘I wanna be like them’ way)

Find a cafe with outdoor seating in a highly populated area, and people watch.

Laugh at his jokes, and don’t be precious over your food/drink cause he’s gonna help himself.

‘Hot, not, not, HOT, extra hot.’ ‘This is so good, have you tried this?’ ‘It was yours? Oh shit, sorry. At least you have good taste… in multiple ways’ (he’d wink at you then, if he could.) ‘Ew have those pants ever in fashion?’ ‘Haha, did you see that kid face plant the side walk?! Get rekt’

Benny

He’s an old traditional man really, he’ll bring you a bouquet of daisies. Legitimately, if he could, he would ask your father for permission to take you out.

Cooking as has always been, and continues to be a big part of Benny's personality.

It doesn’t matter that the food no longer sustains him, because it keeps him connected to his home, and his history.

Plus, the way to any person's heart is through their stomach,

You’ll be in the kitchen together, cooking gumbo or jambalaya, and bananas foster for dessert.

If you don’t know how to cook, don’t worry. Benny is gonna take the lead anyway, he’ll teach you as much as you think you can handle.

He’s very respectful, but if you just so happen to brush against each other while working in the same space, well, that just can be helped now can it?

Or if you’re slightly in his way, sometimes he just needs to rest a gentle but firm hand on your hip and guide you to the side.

Or if you accidentally get something on your cheek? Your lip? He’ll have to get that for you.

Crowley

I’m picturing a rustic but sophisticated cabin in the woods.

Somewhere private, a safe space just for the two of you.

Something with a big, roaring fireplace.

A big, plush, velvety sofa, and an array of fluffy blankets, pillows, furs, rugs.

A fully stocked bar. ‘Don’t worry darling, you won’t have to lift a finger.’ He or a lesser demon will make all your drinks for you.

Just some real, 1 on 1 quality time together where you can both be vulnerable.

Whether you spend all night in deep conversation, cuddling, or getting even more intimate is your choice.

Meg

Would forget to bring you a gift, but if it goes well, she’ll likely give you one of her many pieces of jewelry, ‘Whatever you like most hun, just take it.’

I feel like she would actually really enjoy something creative, the messier the better.

Like finding a big open space, lowering the lights, laying down a big canvas, cracking open a bottle, and getting busy with some paints.

No brushes, just hands (or other body parts if you like).

Rowena

Gracing you with her presence is gift enough.

If anything, you should be bringing her a gift. Jewelry is always best, but she will settle for roses or red wine.

Rowena knows her worth, and if you don’t, then don’t waste her time.

She deserves nothing less than to be wined and dined somewhere very nice.

Followed by a show. The ballet or the opera.

Just imagine, the both of you dressed to the nines. Holding hands over the table, good food and drink, Rowena sharing stories from her time on earth.

Coffee or dessert? Both. Please and thank you.

Ruby

Would bring you candy, but you have to share.

Also a big foodie, but more eating, less cooking.

Like a street food market, or a boardwalk.

You can compete on the water guns and ring toss games to win each other prizes.

She’s only letting you win if there is something in it for her. – Particularly a prize that she wants.

Regardless of who wins what, you’re gonna be the one carrying everything.

Then stop at every food stand on the way.

Bonus points for somewhere that has proper french fries in large portions.

Afterwards, you can chat at the end of the peer, and/or make out under it. 

[yuri-is-online]

Hey, remember the soulmate au by tiyoin(?) I recently read your post abt idia and Leona reacting to yuu being their mates, but I wanna take it a step further since I saw idias line abt the family curse (this has yandere implications so if it's not your cup of tea please feel free to just ignore, nothing is outright mentioned tho)

What if yuu has a family curse similar to the aishi family in yandere simulator? (It's been years since I touched the game so if the lore changed I'm basing it off of 2018 ish lore, just with my own twist) basically yes, yuu CAN feel emotions, they're just muted and barely there. Given the right conditions (like falling in love or spending time with friends) and/or antidepressants they'll basically be like any other person, without them it's like a less severe version of the aishi women pre-falling in love

So, afab ppl born in yuus family, once falling in love, start losing their sanities and adopt yandere like behavior (stalking, increasing rage and jealousy, willingness to murder, etc) unfortunately this means they usually die young (20s or 30s) how quickly/young they die is based on their willpower (resisting the urges) and when/if they fall in love (so someone falling in love for the first time in their 40s and having insane willpower, caving in 20 years later in their 60s has more luck than a 16 year old falling in love and caving in almost immediately). Unfortunately everyone is a carrier, men carry the gene and can pass it to their daughters, but it only presents in the women/afab ppl, so transfems won't be affected but transmascs will.

What if yuu fell in love already (in their own world) and has just been doing a really REALLY good job at Resisting The Urges™️. Like, sometimes they slip up and cave in to anger or get ridiculously jealous, but they try their hardest to tamp down the feelings. Yuu has sworn off falling in love (again) and has given up their dream of having a big family bc of the curse, they're even distancing themselves from their object of affection in an attempt to "be normal again" at the cost of their own sanity.

So yuu gets transported to twst, and without their darling, they have the chance to be normal again, assuming they can get past the initial panic frenzy. Then the soul bond is revealed and they just go "nope. Not this shit again" and spouts cryptic messages about a family curse and swearing off love. I'm pretty sure most of the boys would feel a bit hurt by that lmao

This is mostly made for idia since his segment is what sparked the idea in the first place, but which characters from most to least likely do you think would try to pursue mc and figure out the truth to leave them alone and try to move on? I personally can't see someone like kalim giving up on both but I think the octatrio would try to look for the truth but be 50/50 on pursuing yuu or dropping them like a hot potato. Idia I think would try to relate to yuu and try to pursue them, but I think he'd probably be a bit put off once yuu starts dropping hints about the curse (he's a weeb so it won't take long for him and maybe Ortho to put 2+2 together and figure out the curse)

tiyon's soulmate au can be found here, their first post inspired some asks, which led to my own soulbound au the rules of which can be found here. Please support tiyon and interact with their soulmate au! They're a very creative blog and deserve the attention~ give them some reblogs!

so. uh. I got this ask when I first woke up and 1) very happy to hear from you Rose, always lovely to get a new ask and 2) yandere? sim? has lore? I did not think people actually played the game? help. i've fallen and misplaced my life alert. As a rule I don't really write for a Yuu who is just x character from y game/anime (it is in my rules) so while I was at work realizing I might be old I was trying to think of a way to do this that wasn't just yan sim (I wanted something properly gn) and I think I've got something? I am currently beating away the desire to info dump on you about the myth of Sigurd and Brunhilde (i could scream about that for hours oh god oh please i have written an actual au for that but efkjbekjrgbjrthnytrh) So here is the basic idea:

Yuu ran afoul of a witch in their world and was appropriately cursed. Given the myth I was inspired by I don't think Yuu did anything bad, but they still made the witch mad so they got cursed to lose all reason should they ever fall in love.

"You will be thine own destruction!" Cackles the witch and Yuu, who is actually normal unlike trey this person takes a deep breath and resigns themselves to researching a way to minimize the effects and maybe break it? They don't know they thought magic was fake until they thought they were just doing a favor for someone but turns out they pissed off Baba fucking Yaga.

They start to isolate themselves since they notice the curse starting to eat at them when they are around anyone the love; they consider going back to the witch and asking for further clarification but they can't seem to find them anywhere so they take some deep breaths and do their best to just be normal.

When they end up in Twisted Wonderland, and start feeling... weird. And it only gets worse when Crowley speculates that they might have been brought to Twisted Wonderland because they posses a soulbond.

And Yuu immediately freaks out because they don't want to kill anyone.

Now as for your question for who would try to pursue Yuu vs just leave them... well I don't really like writing un reciprocated feelings so I hesitate to say any of the cast would drop Yuu. In my au it isn't possible for soulbonds to not be reciprocated, and they are already sort of seen as a curse by mages so this... complication might not be normal but it isn't unexpected if that makes sense. Which would probably make Yuu swearing off love hurt even worse.

Kalim wouldn't want to abandon Yuu. Not ever, no matter how much of a danger they could be to him. Hell, he's willing to forgive people who are trying to poison him on the off chance they might regret it. But he is the heir of House Al-Asim, and I could see his dad paying someone to take Yuu out to keep his son safe. Something Jamil sees coming from a mile away and has to just keep quiet about. Something I can see Jamil feeling bad about, he might not like Kalim but you didn't ask for anything that happened to you. And yet the Asim's took your life from you anyway.

Have to disagree about the octatrio just a bit. Floyd would be into this. And so would Jade. But especially Floyd, oh hee hee ha ha his soul mate wants to kill him? Say less he is on his way to get his ass eat beat with an engagement ring in hand. Both he and Jade would be a little disappointed when the curse is broken and you aren't actively trying to kill him anymore... maybe you could try and poison him huh? Like old times?

I wrote 20 paper pages of soulbond au stuff for Azul so I will try to be brief here but... I don't think this situation would be one that made him try to break the bond. He has... complicated feelings about soulbonds already. If anything I could see him thinking he deserves this.

Now Idia. He's complicated. Pre-overblot he has given up on the concept of breaking his own curse, and I could see him feeling the same way about yours. Ortho on the other hand... even before he gets his soul he wants to help. After the overblot I can see Idia pursuing Yuu determined to find the truth and save them. Not that he wouldn't interact with them before that, he's a bit nihilistic so I can see him just making a bunch of jokes about the situation or promising to let Yuu kill him "after this next round." Or just straight up asking them to when he has to hit pity in one of his gachas. It's just cringe enough that it snaps Yuu out of the curse fog for long enough for the two of them to be normal around each other. And by normal I mean incredibly awkward

Anyway that's all I've got. Thank you for the ask ♡

[i-drop-level-one-loot]

YOUR HIGHNESS I HAVE A REQUEST FOR YOU. 💍 not much of request, more of a suggestion if you ever feel like writing it, what about a necromancer yandere? or a mortician?!! OOOOUGHH im so obsessed with necromancers and everything related to them, and there's só many options!!! trying to realive darling reader? put me in! necromancer went to get body parts but when they were doing research they fell in love with one of the people they were getting body parts from, now they want to realive them! DELICIOUS!! killing unwilling reader and bringing them back as a form of punishment! IM ON! i give you full creative control thy humble lord, thank you for the food

(and of course, feel free to deny, YOU are the artist, you are what matters ❤)

Yeah, I can do this

Yandere!Necromancer x GN!Reader

CW: Mentions of death and corpses, both human and animal

The most powerful bastard to have ever lived.

The unspeakable horror known as Letum the Terrible, a powerful sorcerer that seemed to draw magic from the universe without any limitations; a bottomless pool of stamina who could wipe out armies with a snap of their fingers.

Or, as Nephin knew them, (Reader).

He still remembered the first time he met (Reader), when they were a young teenager and he was just a child. What the pitiful town's people called power hungry and malicious, Nephin understood to be ambitious and determined. Even at the age of five, the small boy could see how the people never broke (Reader's) spirit; how every time they publicly beat them out of fear, or accused them openly of evil and conspiring with dark forces, (Reader's) resolve strengthened.

Unlike wizards, who had to learn the ancient arts and memorize countless spells, or mages who had to use magickally imbued artifacts and books written by magick users of the past, the terrifying teenager was a sorcerer, who's power was instinct and perfected by trial and error experimentation.

Nephin craved the user's attention.

He studied so diligently, begging the universe to give him access to the energy of the universe or to grant him his own supply of natural mana.

The rest of the town was so focused on being afraid of (Reader), that no one but Nephin noticed their one and only flaw. (Reader) could not heal themselves.

Less than a month before the human known as (Reader) would seemingly fall off the face of the earth, they had changed the course of the little love sick child's life forever, after an encounter hidden deep in the woods.

Nephin cradled a bleeding rabbit, focusing on a simple healing spell, chanting it over and over again while rocking on his little heels, screaming in his heart for the universe to awaken his healing power. But the rabbit continued to bleed out over his shirt.

"Hel, oh breathing earth, this broken body. Hel, oh breathing earth, this broken body. Hel-"

The small little black rabbit went limp in Nephin's arms, releasing her last breath. Tears tumbled down out of frustration.

"No. No. No!" He whined, gripping the body against his chest harder. "Wake up! Wake up!"

A warm green light bubbled up from the earth like liquid, rising into the air around Nephin and the rabbit. It was working. "Wake up! Wake up!"

The rabbit stirred to life, moving within his grasp, without breathing.

Joy filled Nephin, believing himself to have finally achieved the power to heal, when he realized that the wound on the bunny never closed, and blood was still dripping from the gash.

He didn't have much time to wonder what was happening, as (Reader) emerged from the bushes, wide eyed at the sight before them.

"I.. didn't heal him right.." Nephin sadly stated, holding out the rabbit to his unrequited love.

(Reader) reached out for the beast, ignoring it's screams. After a brief inspection, (Reader) got on their knees to stand at eye level with Nephin. "What is your name, child?"

".. Nephin."

"Nephin, dear young magick user, you were born for power, but not to heal."

"-but-"

"This rabbit is dead." (Reader) angled the violently wriggling head towards Nephin so the child could see the green hue in the bunny's clouding eyes. "What you have accomplished, was quite impressive for one without training. You are a necromancer."

Nephin felt his tiny heart shatter. The tears that had begun to dry restarted, falling freely down his round, baby cheeks. "But I wanted to - to heal!"

"Look at me." (Reader) snapped their fingers, startling Nephin into choking back his sob. "With the advancements in non magickal science, even regular men can make healing medicines. With time, the doctors and the apothecaries will surely render healers useless. However, you can do what no healer has ever achieved. You can raise the dead."

(Reader) hoped that they successfully encouraged the kid, handing him back his first successful minion.

Their words would haunt him for the rest of his life.

After (Reader) disappeared, Nephin ran away from home, traveling across the continent to find necromancers to study under. They gladly accepted him as one of their own, filling him with praise over his natural talent. And as the years went by, Nephin grew in power tangentially with (Reader). He had no proof that the nearly inhuman Letum was (Reader), but with the descriptions of their abilities he had little doubt in his mind as to who they were.

Without an ability to heal themselves, (Reader) slowly became less and less of the person they once were. Stories told of the terrifyingly powerful being spread around the world, as the strongest warriors of all classes and species left to challenge them and were destroyed so thoroughly that there was not body to send back to their families. The only times (Reader) was injured was due to their hubris, which allowed their opponents to gain the upper hand. The fighters would be reduced to ash with a snap of their fingers afterwords, but (Reader) never missed the opportunity to allow their opponents to show off their pitiful abilities against them.

Scars covered so much of (Reader's) skin, that their original skin tone was difficult to determine. With a bald head and lack of a nose or upper lip, the intimidating menace was easily mistaken for a monster.

No one but Nephin remembered (Reader), but everyone knew of Letum the Terrible.

And as time went on, Nephin's love for his first crush never faded, counting down the days until he reached adulthood and could track down (Reader). He knew, logically, that (Reader) would not remember him, but whether or not they allowed him to follow them around like their loyal dog, or killed him without a second thought, was enough for him; just to be in their presence once more would be an honor.

On Nephin's twentieth birthday, when he was awarded the highest rank amongst his adoptive village and became not only an adult, but a necromancer more powerful than any other in history, he set out to find (Reader), ready to track them down by following their crimes like a trail of rose petals.

Instead, Nephin found a nation of people celebrating the death of Letum.

And it was as though his entire existence had been a waste.

Letum the Terrible was preserved with magick to be researched my magickal scientists.

Their body would not deteriorate, nor rot, as scholars from around the world freely came to poke and prod and slice open their body in an attempt to understand what gave Letum such immense power.

In the hall of intellectuals, Nephin stood transfixed before the viewing table, admiring what little remained of the neighbor he once knew. Their chest and abdomen were hollowed out, every organ except the brain removed and placed in jars to be examined. Everyone who got a chance to see the most powerful evil to have ever lived felt comfortable enough in the corpse's presence to mock (Reader).

"They died from something so mundane.."

"An allergy? Even children can heal themselves.."

"Perhaps they were bored with life.."

"Perhaps they weren't so strong after all.."

'Enough with this slander.' Except for (Reader's) body, each and every cadaver, no matter how incomplete they were, woke, and turned on the humans. The atmosphere quickly changed from cheeky to tragic, everyone scrambling in a mass panic as the dead began to tear apart the living. In the chaos Nephin stole away (Reader's) body, carrying them like a bride on their wedding day.

It took years to find every piece he needed.

Nephin searched the world for pieces to fix his precious neighbor, his first and only love. The two were now the same age as each other, as a corpse can not grow old.

Although Nephin found (Reader) just as beautiful with their scars as he did when they were children, the world knew of Letum, but only he knew of (Reader). So he hunted down pieces of the old (Reader) throughout the lands. Someone's similar shaped nose, a hide matching their skin tone and texture, scalping someone with (Reader's) hair. Bit by bit, throughout the years, with the help of a warlock under contract to resurrect her wife, Nephin sew (Reader) back together.

(Reader) woke up.

Head splitting in pain, they forced themselves to sit up, despite the voice of a stranger commanding them to take it slow. Everything was fuzzy, and they couldn't recall what had happened to cause such a stiffness and agony. The last thing they remembered was being bitten by a spider, and falling ill nearly instantly, collapsing alone in the woods.

They raised their arm to inspect their bite, but found an unfamiliar arm. Patches of skin stitched together. Their other arm was similarly foreign, and as their eyes learned to focus again, they learned that the same was true for the rest of their naked body.

"I wanted to clothe you, however I was worried the texture would be uncomfortable on your new skin." The stranger with white hair and tired eyes shyly spoke, disturbingly pale skin blushing red.

"I am in no mood for jokes." (Reader) attempted to proclaim loudly, however, their voice was nothing but a dry whisper.

"You may not remember me, but I remember you. I am the one who brought you back. And.." The red deepened as his smile trembled. "I am your master now."

"Ha! Cheeky. Regret your words, and I, Letum the Terrible, shall let you live."

"You are no longer Letum the Terrible." He bent down, caressing their left hand and placing a soft kiss on a their ring finger before pulling out a small box. "You are (Reader), my beloved spouse."

"That's it." (Reader) raised their hand, no longer amused. "This conversation is over."

And snapped their fingers.

.. but nothing happened.

Confused, they looked at their hand.

"I told you." Nephin said sweetly, admiring the green swirl of magick in (Reader's) eyes. "I am your master now."

[danikamariewrites]

imagine being Rhys and Feyres sweet little housewife 🤭🤭🤭 baking and cooking for them, making the home clean and peaceful for them, going shopping, sitting on Rhys’ lap whilst he works, sucking on Feyres tits whilst she paints being spoiled and babied ALL the TIME, extreme princess treatment, it’s not a want it’s a need 🤍🤍🤍

Housewife headcanon

Feysand x reader

A/n: I don’t want to be a housewife BUT I would be for them

Warnings: fluff and slightly nsfw at the end

After a year of dating Rhys and Feyre they convinced you to move in

When you did they were adamant about you making yourself at home because the River House is your house too

Since acts of service is your love language you easily became incorporated in their daily routines which they love

You get up early before Rhys goes to training and make him a small breakfast and coffee. The first time you did this he was surprised. “Darling you didn’t have to do this.” He said, kissing your temple before eating. “I know, but I wanted to. I know you don’t eat before working out and that’s not good for you Rhysie.”

Before he leaves you give him a kiss and tell him “have a great day baby, I love you.”

Then you go back to bed to cuddle with Feyre for another hour until she gets up

You bring up coffee or tea - whatever she’s in the mood for - and the two of you get ready together. Sometimes Feyre does your makeup if you feel like it. You love having her hands all over you, she’s soft with you when she plays with your hair and holds you

When Rhys comes home the three of you sit down for a proper breakfast and talk about what your plans are for the day

Your first few weeks you took it upon yourself to add more furniture into some of the rooms and make the living room a little less old gothic looking

You got a new rug, new arm chairs, and a big comfy couch with new blankets and you hung a few of Feyre’s paintings

Over the months you worked on de-gothifying the place and making it more homey

When that project was done you could tell Rhys and Feyre felt more relaxed at home. All those dark colors must’ve reminded them of literally everything bad and work of course

You also love to cook! Going to the farmers market is your favorite. Fresh bread and foods from all over Prythian at your fingertips

Once a week you make a big meal for the 3 of you with stuff you bought from the market. You also make dessert which is usually ice cream, brownies, or cookies

Feyre and Rhys have always showed you so much love and affection, even before you moved in

To show you that they appreciate everything you do they dial up your Princess treatment to what feels like a million

They buy you any and everything you could ever want

They love taking you out for shopping trips in the city together but sometimes they get so busy you go on your own

You like going on your own sometimes, that way you can get them little surprise gifts

Other days you feel like doing nothing but sitting around the house or being with one of them while they worked

With Feyre you helped her with correspondence or planning lessons and gallery’s for the art studio

Sometimes the two of you would snuggle and read together on the couch in her office

Other times creativity would hit and Feyre would ask you to pose for a sketch for a painting. As she paints you sit with her just in awe of her talent

“You’re amazing Fey. I don’t know how you do it,” you say to her. Feyre turns her head to quickly press her lips to yours as thanks. “Thank you my love, I couldn’t do it without my muse,” she teases

When you compliment her she’d boop your nose with whatever paint she was using and you’d giggle while blushing like crazy

That usually ended with the two of you covered in paint naked on the floor

With Rhys you love taking naps in his office either on the plush leather couch by the fire or sitting on his lap

You read or help him sort paperwork and write letters to the other high lords

Usually working with Rhys is pretty boring unless your in his lap staring up at him with heart eyes, admiring that beautiful jaw line and sparkling eyes

“I can feel you staring darling,” Rhys lightly chuckles out. Your cheeks turn pink a little and you hide your face in his neck. “I can’t help it you’re just so damn pretty.” You mumble. “Another laugh shakes Rhys’s chest. “Hey, look at me.” You slowly pull away from his neck and meet his violet eyes

Rhys shifts you so you’re straddling him with your back to his desk. His hand comes up to softly hold your chin, forcing you to keep eye contact with him. “I love it when you stare at me pretty girl. Reminds me of how much you love me. Do you stare at Feyre too?”

You nod, a soft smile pulling at your lips as he inches his face closer to yours. “Mmhh, and what does Feyre darling do when you stare at her like that?” Rhys gently kisses you as he taps on your mental shields, asking to see what you did with Feyre yesterday

You happily show him, hoping you can end up in the same position with him

You also show him images of the 3 of you together in bed hoping that you can have both of them sooner rather than later

[mychlapci]

That Dolly Sentinel au has been on my mind again. Except what if it ended in an Autobot victory because Shockwave was cocky and got himself hypnotized by mistake. He was going to use it on Blurr, but surely examining it first wouldn’t hurt. It’s in the form of some ridiculous reality tv show, and Shockwave really must give the Autobot high council points for creativity, but surely since he knows about it the hypnosis won’t affect him. Except he’s wrong. It runs while he’s looking through the file specs, inane background noise about attracting your dream mech. He’s not even in his disguise— Shockwave’s just too smart to get hypnotized, so there’s no need to worry about how relaxed he’s getting. Decepticon victory is all but a given now that he has this technology! Once the war is over, Shockwave can finally have the partner of his dreams… he’s always wanted a mech to take care of him. Hasn’t he?

The show, just a basic induction meant to relax the target and prime them for imprinting a new husband, loops over and over and Shockwave goes from looking at the spec to watching it. It’s all for science of course. He needs to see if he can spot any tells, so he can protect less intelligent and capable Decepticons from the hypnosis! He’s limp in Longarm Prime’s desk chair and on rewatch number 5 when Blurr comes in, imprinting himself on Shockwave’s melty hypnotized processor as the mech’s dream husband. Blurr, of course, turns Shockwave in immediately.

And instead of executing him, Autobot high command rewards Blurr by wiling Shockwave’s memory of getting caught and putting him back to work. This is how they’re going to win the war, Agent Blurr. This Decepticon wanted to turn you into a ditzy, simpering housewife, and instead you’re going to turn it back on him! …and in the process get the hypnotic tapes in front of as many Decepticons as possible, once the new issues are ready.

Blurr, having had a somewhat embarrassing crush on his boss, is all too happy to ensure that Shockwave stays his darling Longarm Prime forever! It’s cute, watching his boss’ face flush when Blurr walks in the room. Shockwave doesn’t know what to do with all of these new feelings. He’s never noticed how sleek and streamlined agent Blurr is… how handsome and dutiful. He’d be the perfect husband for some lucky mech, and Shockwave’s rarely used valve warms at the thought. So when his favorite agent and dream mech recommends him a show, Longarm Prime is willing to try it out.

It’s a hit, of course. Shockwave feels less and less trapped by his Longarm disguise with every passing cycle. Actually, it feels right. Which is good, because obviously he can seduce Blurr like this and, um. Help the Decepticons win? The plan needs workshopping. But each new episode of his favorite series leaves Longarm more desperate to get with the speedster. Primping and polishing his plating until it gleams, trying on a lacy skirt for the first time. It doesn’t fit his figure, so Longarm shifts the weight around a little more. A slimmer waist, a fatter aft. A new pair of tits pressed behind his chestplate to make sure he looks sexy enough to seduce his top agent.

And then his show suggests playing dumb. Except it very rapidly isn’t playing. All of that spy stuff Longarm Prime used to be good at is soooo hard now! Blurr has to step around the desk and help explain stuff lots and lots of the time, petting Longarm on the head and stroking his cheeks softly as he coos that it’s “alright for silly little things like you to need help, Longarm, it’s only natural that you rely on a mech to take care of you. You need taken care of, don’t you, sweetspark? You’ve been so brave doing all this hard work, just let me take over for you.”

And when he gestures for Longarm to stand up out of the chair, the mech does. Blurr takes his spot as chief of intelligence before flipping his skirt up swatting the larger mech’s aft. The mech who used to be Shockwave can’t help but moan a little, arching his back to beg for another spank. This one lands right on his panel, a harsh slap over the valve that has it opening instinctively. Another slap, right on a blinking red node. Longarm squeals, but stays braced on the desk.

Blurr will spank Shockwave until he overloads, before revealing that he knows the truth. And Longarm will apologize over and over for disappointing his dream mech… only for Blurr to tell him that he’s already been forgiven. Node still burning from harsh slaps. Longarm isn’t a bad girl anymore, so it’s time to start training him into a cute little wife. And the mech that is/was Shockwave can only cum again.

And soon enough the high council will realize just how roomy and fertile Decepticon wombs are. Which is how Shockwave helps the Decepticons “win” a place as the Autobots darling, needy wives!

ouh lord... Shockwave hypnotizing himself into becoming a perfect little wife is so funny... He thought he was untouchable, huh. Now Longarm Prime is a chubby little wife to a very satisfied Blurr, giving aaaaall the secret decepticon intel up for an overload <3

[depravitymoon]

My favorite Yandere Types

Author's note: I will spare you the sob story and just say that my uncle needed my help right after he got out the hospital. It wrecked my scheduling and I already promised that I would do better with posting more frequently, so I did another ramble post. These classifications aren't polished in any way. I just spouted whatever comes to mind. Enjoy!

Note #2: Sorry if the pic for Laidback Yan is blurry. I'll figure out how to do memes better next time. Also, all the yanderes listed are male yandere because that's my personal favorite.

Sugar Daddies

Kind of a "money comes at a price" thing I always love. 

Pro: Spoils you. 

Con: Thinks he owns your life.

Personally, I'm not a fan of the 'I'll isolate you' types. In fact, I think it'll be cooler to see a yandere use darling's loved ones to his advantage, such as "How desperate are you to get your sister into that art school?" and "It would be a shame if your brother doesn't have that dream job. I'm sure you'd do ANYTHING to make that happen if you could, right?"

Sadist/Psycho

He wakes up and chooses violence. Just an absolute menace to society. You'd have to make bad choices in your life to have him obsessed with you. I love this one, because writers can be very creative on how they act towards darling and towards the world. Typically their MO is "I wont hesitate to beat and shoot people. Not even you, darling! You just get it less."

Femboy/Otouto

My love for this is clearly inspired by Narancia (JJBA) and Bachira (Blue Lock). It's a guy who's naive, hyper, sweet, just so adorable that he'll have you thinking he's non-threatening. Then, the yanderu comes out and shows you just how dangerous and manipulative he can be. Also, he will get aggressive when you try slipping from him. I imagine this type always using overt guilt tripping.

Mr.Hades

Emo boy kidnaps a ball of sunshine to cure his lonely depression, such as Hades taking Persephone. There's not much else to say since this shipping dynamic (brooding x happy-go-lucky) is very popular. 

Laidback

The laidback yandere that dont seem Yandere at all. He's super chill, actually gives you freedoms, and seems alright letting you socialize with people. What's the issue? Seems like a normal boyfriend! That's why I love them! So where does the Yanderu part comes in? In many different ways! Usually, in the form of a blackmailer or a tracker. It's easy to let you do what you want when you're never really that far from him or he has you fearing the consequence enough to trust you'll come back to him willingly. Honestly, I might do my own post on laidback yanderes.

[vhstown]

writing neutral readers; a guide

(neutral = unspecified gender, race, appearance, etc.)

hi hi here's vee, the one of (hopefully) many neutral fic writers for atsv, showing YOU how to write a neutral reader for your character x reader fic!!!!

this is mainly about romantic x reader fics!!

lil disclaimer: you don't have to write neutral readers if you don't want to! this is just for people who do and might want some advice :) all of these are what works for me — there are plenty of ways to write a neutral reader!

contents page for your sanity:

avoiding white-coding

being gender-neutral

re-direction / re-phrasing

my general thoughts and opinions

before we get started: why are neutral readers great?

inclusivity! a lot of the times it can be hard to find a fic right for you especially if they tend to be for a certain demographic

forces you to think outside of the box — you can't rely on describing the reader, so you have to describe character interactions more creatively (as you'll see me try to do a lot in this post 😭)

helps with immersion! a lot of the time overly-descriptive reader inserts can make it hard to... actually insert yourself into them

your fics can reach a lot more people if they're neutral (though this is just an added bonus lol)

some colour-coding for your wellbeing: blue = general advice + examples, pink = my personal input

1. avoiding white-coding

this is a big point i'd like to address first because it doesn't get talked about enough! and all of this is in reference to a post i saw like a week ago lmao

i haven't seen this term being used a lot but the general idea is when a piece of writing is catered towards a white reader (usually implied through description)

this is usually done unintentionally but avoiding white coding is an important part of writing totally neutrally!

general things to avoid

describing physical attributes such as hair + skin tone

for example describing hair as silky/smooth implies that it is straight + excludes the majority of other hair types / styles etc

also things like running your fingers through your hair can be impractical w certain hairstyles

i tend to just avoid hair in general ? if you want you can focus on other gestures (hand holding, cupping readers face or sumn)

or just reverse the roles entirely and have reader do the comforting gestures to the canon character

skin tone is definitely more subtle however it can be implied especially through things like blushing

people with darker skin tones DO blush, but it generally tends to be less visible or not at all

instead i tend to describe the feeling rather than the outward changes (face getting warm, getting flustered, heart rate increasing, sweating, stuttering etc)

2. being gender-neutral

okay this admittedly can be difficult to write sometimes

the general rule for a gender neutral reader is to avoid referring to the reader as male or female AND any physical description specific to a certain sex

gendered terms

some people like to use they/them when reader is referred to by other characters

instead of boyfriend/girlfriend you can use partner

i personally don't do these things as you'll see in my next point about re-direction!

there are PLENTY of gender neutral pet names in english

for languages like spanish which have masc and fem versions of words i tend to use nouns (usually non-living or abstract) which have a set gender (such as my heart, my love, etc — one of my favourites is cariño (darling) because it doesn't change based on gender)

though again i rarely write terms of endearment in other languages so i suggest you do your research!

physical terms (sfw only)

also for body inclusivity

again this mainly to try and avoid implying fem!reader but also body types just a tiny little bit

i tend to avoid mentioning body shape but if i do then i use something vague like "shape of your body" rather than "curves" or anything specific

you can just write down the body part without describing it physically (chest, waist thighs, etc)

eyelashes are ... unisex! no way!

you might want to avoid makeup but this is just a *general* suggestion

i tend to NOT describing clothing choices unless it's relevant to the premise of the fic — usually vague references like your school uniform, pajamas, shoes, favourite shirt, etc

you can also cheat this if reader is wearing the other character's clothes 😭 next point re-direction WOOO

3. re-direction / re-phrasing

(a personal choice of mine + totally optional)

re-direction is when you change the focus of a sentence in order to get rid of any words descriptions that may take away from the neutrality of the reader (as you see me talking about in the little pink text everywhere or in the little suggestions in blue)

Re-direction can be used for anything! I think there's a book that exists that uses no words with the letter e and a book that uses no pronouns at all (but don't ask me what they are because I have no clue)

It's not particularly easy or straightforward all the time and you might have to change more than one sentence but re-phrasing your writing can be a good challenge! (if you choose to do so)

for me i tend to re-direct to avoid using any sort of third person pronouns (he/she/they etc) or gendered terms and to avoid using insert tags like y/n

example on pronouns & gendered terms

for pronouns i usually change "he/she/they" to "you" or a noun

"She's not welcome here" could become "Your friend isn't welcome here"

Or the sentence may change entirely to convey the same meaning. The woman turned to you, speaking one simple command: "Get out."

I also tend to use more masc / neutral terms in casual settings like "dude" or "bro"

I also avoid the use of "partner" (though this is just nit-picky) ex. "Is this your partner?" might become "Oh, [character] talks about you all the time!" (entirely dependent on context and if you care enough lol — one of the less clear-cut redirections)

while you could obviously use they in this scenario i personally don't out of preference (to me they/them is an nb set of pronouns if the gender isn't ambiguous and blah blah blah) but it doesn't really matter

example on insert tags

"(Y/N), wait!" can become "Hey, wait!"

Or you could use "your name" rather than a placeholder. He called your name, running behind you. "Wait!"

like i mentioned before things like clothes and favourite foods all tend to revolve around the character rather than the reader. in a lot of cases writing about the foods the character likes or wearing the clothes the character owns can actually be more immersive than inserting your personal preferences into a pair of brackets (in my experience at least)

4. general thoughts and opinions

one big thing i wanted to point out is that it's actually good for your writing to "ban" yourself from using certain terms and descriptions. i find that i focus a lot more on describing events, emotions and character interactions rather than being caught up on the reader.

fem!reader and masc!reader are GREAT too! amazing beautiful wonderful keep writing those — but i think gender neutral readers help to avoid a lot of biases that might (albeit unintentionally) come with a specific gender

and being inclusive for all kinds of readers when you're writing a neutral reader is so important!

to conclude

if you exclusively write one type of reader that is absolutely fine :) write what you want and be happy doing it

neutral readers are GREAT but so difficult to write so pls don't worry if u mess up sometimes 👍

i am still figuring out ways to make my writing more inclusive and i wouldn't know without other people's input! so please feel free to drop ur personal gripes or advice

this post is subject to edits (cuz i always forget to add something and it is very ranty spammy random lol)

this post can be found in the "favourite posts" section of my navigation (pinned)!

reblogs r appreciated if u found it useful <3

[sundaynightlive]

Fresh Night Air [Book was there, it was there…](Greatwise)

Disclaimers: No age gap shit. They’re 16 and 17 respectively.

Also: I do not hate Mike or any of Will’s friends—I’m just exploring the way they might tip toe around him after all the shite he’s been through.

Realistically: I ship Byler. But I like healthy love interests MOST and whatever’s going on in ST right now is not that, so why not throw a Gareth in there?

If it’s not your thing, I get it :) I only wanted to write a sweet little happy-Will fic with LIGHT angst for like two seconds. If you’re going, have a good rest of your day <3 peace and love darlings.

If you’re staying, enjoy :)

“Gareth Emerson,” the boy introduces, and Will shakes his hand over the table. He’s still a little pissed about his friends joining another party while he was in California, but when’s the last time Mike took anything Will said seriously, ever?

He shouldn’t be surprised.

They sit back down—across from each other, no less—and turn their attention to Eddie now that they’ve all been decently acquainted. The DM claps his hands together and rubs his palms excitedly—despite Will’s initial annoyance at being completely and utterly betrayed, he actually really likes Eddie, fangs and all. He’s cool, he’s nice, and he’s the only Upside Down monster that doesn’t wanna kill or eat any of them, save for the occasional half-cup of blood that seems to satisfy him completely.

They had all been astounded at the convenience of that—blood being so filling.

Or maybe Eddie’s affliction hadn’t fully taken by the time they got his body out of the Upside Down and a troupe of federal scientists pumped him full of drugs—they aren’t totally sure.

Either way, he’s a sad excuse for a vampire, and a completely awesome dungeon master.

“Good evening, intrepid heroes, and welcome to my eighth,” Eddie pauses, as if he’s in awe of that number himself, “And best campaign yet. Drumroll, please!” Will starts a little as the boys around him (plus Erica) begin to pound on the table with their fists. Will joins them after a moment, allowing himself to grin both at the nerdiness, and the undeniable giddy excitement that’s filling his chest and shoulders.

Eddie uses his hands to push his feet up on his seat—his throne, really—and then stands, throwing his arms out wide—

“Plight of the Hellwalkers!” A cheer rises up from the table, as if any of them know what that means other than tieflings and devils and the sort. Maybe something celestial, if any of them are feeling particularly combatant. Will’s already got all these ideas forming in his brain—he’s known for being pretty creative when it comes to PC’s. Will the Wise hadn’t exactly been the height of ingenuity, but Mike hadn’t always wanted to DM a complicated character—he just wanted to run impossible dungeons and make his players sweat.

Eddie’s a different story.

Will’s running all kinds of characters through his brain when he notices Gareth looking at him. Will would’ve thought he’d be chatting with all the other boys, or even with Eddie since the two of them seem to be pretty close—but no. He’s looking at Will.

Hesitantly, Will makes eye-contact with him. Gareth doesn’t seem bothered about getting caught staring. Will’s brows furrow—this is… weird. They just met not even five minutes ago.

What? He mouths.

Gareth holds up a finger, like he’s gonna tell Will in a second. Will’s confused by this (because when are they gonna have a second?) until Eddie announces today’s session is all about working on PC’s, and in order to keep the campaign interesting and fun, he’d like them all to leave the room and come back in one by one so he can get a brief idea of each character, by the end of today, and hopefully by next session, have everything ready to go.

And then he says—

“Gareth, you first. And then Mike. And after that I don’t care who goes when—figure it out.” Gareth gives Will one last glance. He raises an eyebrow. Then, he absentmindedly looks over at Eddie, and finds he’s staring daggers into the side of Gareth’s skull.

What is happening?

Still perplexed, he leaves the auditorium with his friends, unable to shake the feeling that he’s being discussed in the room they left behind. He picks at his clothes—his nice, plaid button-down and his khakis. He feels kind of stupid—everyone else has a Hellfire t-shirt of some sort—all his friends in a baseball tee, and some of the older members in what are probably older t-shirts. All Eddie’s school-allocated budget must go towards them—Will’s certain they probably don’t get more than fifty bucks, if that.

“So?”

Will starts as Mike throws an arm around his shoulders, completely oblivious to how that affects him.

“Isn’t it fucking awesome?”

Will snorts at the profanity—Mike’s been cussing more and more since he started tailing Eddie like a lost puppy. Will assumes he thinks it makes him sound cool—not that he has anything against cussing, it’s just a little funny to him that Mike never talked like that before.

“Totally,” Will says, letting a little sarcasm seep into his tone, “You just couldn’t resist breaking your promise, could you?” Mike’s eyes widen—deer caught in headlights.

“I–it’s—you never said anything about extracurriculars!” Mike tries, and Lucas and Dustin burst out laughing at the lame attempt at an excuse. Will rolls his eyes, shrugging off Mike’s arm.

“Asshole,” he mumbles. Lucas and Dustin roar with more laughter as Mike looks for other excuses—Eddie this, Dustin that—

“Dustin didn’t promise me anything,” Will points out, and Mike groans.

“Dog house!” Erica is teasing, “Mike’s in troooooubleeeee.”

Truth be told, Mike’s not in trouble. There was certainly an initial sting—the only thing Will had asked of him had not been honored—but beyond that, Will’s not fond of holding grudges, especially given he knows full well how quickly life can go from bad to worse.

It’s just fun to watch Mike squirm.

“I’m sorryyyyyy,” Mike whines, “But Eddie’s just so cool and I couldn’t say no!” He puts both hands on Will’s shoulders, shaking him lightly. Will bites his lip to stifle his grin—the way Mike is pouting at him for forgiveness is equal parts adorable and hilarious.

“Forgive me?”

Will shakes his head, still biting back that grin.

“Figure out how to make it up to me—then we’ll talk.”

Mike straightens up, puts two fingers against his forehead, and dramatically salutes. Will loses the ability to stifle his grin and fully laughs at this ridiculousness.

They’re alive, they’re friends again, and Will’s desperate crush is dwindling by the day seeing how happy his sister is. Will couldn’t stay mad at his best friend for anything, and he won’t go on liking him, either.

Things are okay. Things are on their way to good, again.

“Wheeler—get your bony ass in there.”

And that’s Gareth.

“You—” he points directly at Will, exactly like Will figured he might, “Can I steal you for a second?”

Will stands. He doesn’t miss the confused look that Mike gives him, but he does choose to ignore it, mostly because he’s equally as confused. Gareth motions for Will to follow him outside, and sensing no danger or malintent, he decides there’s no point in saying no, especially since he’s not certain how long he’s gonna be sitting bored on this bench otherwise.

“Okay,” Gareth says, once the doors are shut firmly behind them. The night air is cool and nice on Will’s skin. He wants to take a deep breath—relish in all this comfort of being home, of being able to breathe—but he doesn’t know if Gareth would clock that weird reaction to just stepping out. So he tells himself he’ll take that moment later. “I had a crazy idea, and I wanted to know if you’d be down.”

Will raises an eyebrow.

“I’m listening.”

“So, totally shoot me down if you have a better idea, but I think it would be sick to play as angels—you know, since it’s a hell campaign—but specifically an Angel still in line with Heaven’s order, and a fallen one. So, they like, know each other super well, but also are at odds with each other, and like, one’s trying to convince the other to fall and vice versa.”

Gareth looks at him expectantly. Will stares back, trying to comprehend how Gareth even…

Gareth must have read his mind.

There’s no other explanation for how spot on that idea is compared to all the concepts he’d had running around in his own head mere moments ago. And not only that, but Gareth is looking at him like… how did Will not notice he looked like that, before? Why is it only now that—

“Hello? Earth to Byers?” Will starts. Right—he has to answer.

“Yeah—I mean, that sounds awesome,” he manages, cheeks growing pink in embarrassment. He looks away from Gareth’s cool gaze, unsure how to handle the feelings he’s feeling at this moment. Excitement, anxiety—and a myriad of other things he doesn’t feel right naming yet.

“Awesome,” Gareth repeats, slugging him lightly in the shoulder. Will’s whole stomach jumps into his throat.

This cannot be happening.

“So, if you’re down, I’m free tomorrow night. We could kick it at my place and talk background and logistics and shit.”

That’s a terrible idea.

“Sounds great,” Will says, and in his mind he’s repeatedly kicking the shit out of his own kneecaps. He wishes he were a stronger man, but the idea of playing a character that’s not only complex in his own way, but has a strained relationship to another PC? It’s too good to pass up. Plus, Gareth already talked to Eddie, so Will get’s to play under a DM who’s capable of managing that kind of storyline—it fills his chest with something downright palpable.

“Fuck, I’m excited,” Gareth says.

“Me, too.”

Will wonders briefly if his internal criticism of Mike’s cussing was spoken way too soon.

-

Gareth’s bedroom is a dream—Will would call it a loft, but that’s not exactly what it is. It’s adjacent to the attic, an alcove that sticks out from the roof and makes the house look both magical and completely ridiculous. All sides of it are fitted with windows, and in between those, the walls are a deep, navy blue. For the most part, it’s immaculately clean apart from misplaced shoes and a sock or two.

The slivers of walls which are not windows are covered with intense shelving that holds both an extensive collection of cassettes and vinyls, and books. Will wouldn’t have guessed Gareth was a reader, but by the looks of it, he’s practically a library.

The carpet is soft, the bed is big and covered with an enormous quilt. There are soft white Christmas lights hanging throughout the space, creating an inviting glow. Gareth tells Will to drop his bag anywhere, so Will finds the most out-of-the-way corner he possibly can, and sets his stuff down gently. He’s absolutely enamored with the space, but he’s trying not to show it. He could only imagine the teasing that would ensue if he told Gareth the bedroom he spends every night in is like Will’s own personal heaven.

To Will’s further dismay, Gareth plops down on his bed and pats the space next to him. Never in his life did Will expect to be sitting in bed with a cute boy who’s also basically a stranger, but here he is, swallowing his own nervousness and settling down. It’s unbelievably soft. Will let’s his mind wander to what it must be like to sleep there, and then quickly snaps himself out of it.

That’s creepy, he scolds himself. Stop.

“So, did you think of anything in the last 24-hours, or do you wanna start with just the general idea I had?” Gareth asks—and it’s so impossibly normal for how abnormal Will feels. He’s so stiff he might as well be made of wood. Jesus—even his fight or flight is starting to act up.

“Well,” Will says, deciding he’ll force himself to relax by talking, “You know how angels are, like, usually a patron of something? Like, they have a specific purpose, or whatever? I thought we could use something like that to determine our proficiencies, and stuff. I was also thinking that I could be the straight-edge angel and you could be the fallen one? But that’s totally up to you—your idea, your rules.”

Will fidgets nervously with his own hands. Gareth is… actually listening to him. His expression is attentive. Will’s not used to that—so he keeps rambling.

“Also—I like the idea of a sibling dynamic but I thought it would be better if it was strictly a best friends thing? I feel like a lot of D&D overdoes the, like, “you were my brother” thing but meaningful friendships or whatever can be so much more impactful because you choose your friends and stuff, and for a character to choose their person and then lose that person and find them again but still be at odds is just—Sorry, I should shut up. I just realized I’ve been talking for way too long.”

Will wants to melt into the bedspread—hell, he just might.

Gareth grins at him, shaking his head.

“No, totally keep going. You’re brilliant.”

Yup. Melted. Absolutely a liquid. Will doesn’t think he’ll ever be a solid again.

-

Will starts spending an ungodly amount of time with Gareth, but it’s not his fault. His own friends are great, and he spares them every moment he can, but it’s been a long time since being with them has ever felt like this—totally and completely void of tension. His friends… they haven’t been giving him attention freely. It feels weighed down by this notion that they’re forced to hang around because everything they’ve been through.

It’s not fair to think of them that way—he knows they’d still care for him, regardless.

But that pity is stuck behind their eyes. And they won’t talk about things in front of him, like how they’re feeling, how they’re doing. Once, he was hanging around Lucas and Dustin, and they left the room after uttering some lame excuse. Curious and a little hurt, Will had pressed his ear to the door to find Lucas venting about Max, and how she was doing, and how he’s trying to hang out and have fun but she’s all he can think about—half-paralyzed and totally blind, all alone at home when he’s not with her.

It’s selfish, he knows, but he couldn’t help feeling offended. He can be a shoulder—he knows he can be a shoulder. He’s not going to break down the minute someone else needs a hand. They’ve been plenty good for him—he can do the same.

He just needs a chance.

But they won’t give him it, so he loses himself in the simplicity of a brand-new friendship. He and Gareth start just talking over the campaign, and the D&D stuff, but it soon evolves into much more than that. It starts with a book—

“Gertrude Stein,” Will muses, slipping the collection of poetry right off the shelf. He lets it fall open in his palm to a random page. Gareth had gotten bored of devising background and trying to locate biblical information without a bible—so he’d flopped over on the bed and hidden his face in his pillows.

Will had rolled his eyes at him, and went looking for something to entertain himself.

This is where he finds himself, now.

They read a little Gertrude Stein in English, and Will remembers it fondly. He’s not a huge poetry guy, but Stein’s poetry is so ridiculous it actually manages to interest him. It was also generally impossible for most of the class to read aloud, because of it’s insanity, but Will excelled at it. He read it so well, and so succinctly in class, the teacher herself had been shocked.

Maybe his trauma had rewired his brain for nonsensical poetry.

Book was there, it was there. Book was there. Stop it, stop it, it was a cleaner, a wet cleaner and it was not where it was wet, it was not high, it was directly placed back, not back again, back it was returned, it was needless, it put a bank, a bank when, a bank care.

Gareth looks up at him from the pillows curiously, and Will grins in his direction. He begins reading with the utmost conviction, as if anything he’s reading makes a lick of actual sense.

Suppose a man a realistic expression of resolute reliability suggests pleasing itself white all white and no head does that mean soap. It does not so. It means kind wavers and little chance to beside beside rest. A plain.

Suppose ear rings that is one way to breed, breed that. Oh chance to say, oh nice old pole. Next best and nearest a pillar. Chest not valuable, be papered.

Cover up cover up the two with a little piece of string and hope rose and green, green.

Please a plate, put a match to the seam and really then really then, really then it is a remark that joins many many lead games. It is a sister and sister and a flower and a flower and a dog and a colored sky a sky colored grey and nearly that nearly that let.

Will finishes the poem—called Book—and looks back up at Gareth, who seems to be stifling a laugh. Will raises an eyebrow.

“What?” he teases, “Didn’t get that? I’ll read another one.”

Suppose it is within a gate which open is open at the hour of closing summer that is to say it is so.

All the seats are needing blackening. A white dress is in sign. A soldier a real soldier has a worn lace a worn lace of different sizes that is to say if he can read, if he can read he is a size to show shutting up twenty-four.

Go red go red—

Suppose and Eyes is cut off abruptly by a pillow smacking into Will’s chest and falling over the book he’s holding out—an accident which has Gareth absolutely howling with laughter. Will retaliates immediately, tossing the book to the floor and going after Gareth with a pillow.

The rest is history.

They hang out after school, they go to record stores and diners and swimming in the pond behind his house. They have an absolute blast role-playing ex-best friends while becoming best friends, all the while, Will’s fondness growing exponentially every time they share breath. They spend nights at each other’s houses, they talk for hours, they read together, they listen to music together—Will even get’s a little bit into metal, even though it’s not totally his vibe. Weeks and weeks pass—then months. They know everything about each other like the backs of each other’s hands. Will’s friends start making comments about it—Mike especially—and light-heartedly complain that Will is “replacing” them when that is certainly not the case.

They could never be replaced.

But being around Gareth is like magic, up until the moment it’s not.

“Hey… can I talk to you about something?”

Famous last words, but Will is so full of pizza and so content with his back pressed into Gareth’s bed, head resting lightly against the outside of the boy’s knee, that he doesn’t quite grasp the connotation.

He wishes he had—that there had been warning.

“Sure.”

“So… after the earthquake—”

Will should’ve known then and there this was headed in a foul direction, but he was none-the-wiser. He was still half-engrossed in Emily Dickinson, who had grown to be his absolute favorite poet over the last few months.

“Eddie told me everything that happened. And he told me what happened to you.”

This is where it hits him. Will jerks away from Gareth’s knee like it’s scalding, hurt painting over his face as it all crashes over him.

None of this has been any different.

“Will?”

“Are you serious?” Will asks, horror growing in his chest, in his tone. Gareth’s face screws up, a look Will knows all too well—a look he only sports when he’s thoroughly confused.

He must be stupid—Will’s reaction shouldn’t be confusing to him at all.

“I just wanted—”

Everything is tainted. The way Gareth looks at him, acts with him, the way he chose Will out of everyone from that stupid table that first day of Hellfire—he knew. The whole time.

Will is some pathetic charity case who needed a real friend. And he let Will think, this entire time, that he actually liked Will for himself. Not because Will desperately needed to be liked, not because they were bonded by some shared hell, not because Will had suffered, but because Gareth liked him.

It had all been a lie.

“How could you?” Will asks, shakily. He feels tears gathering in his eyes, and he hates himself for it. Now he’s gonna cry like the broken, traumatized baby he really is. The one Gareth has always seen in him. He’s just proving a fucking point.

That’s all he ever does.

“How could I—”

“I can’t believe I let myself be another fucking charity case,” Will hisses, wiping at his eyes with the back of his hand as he scrambles to his feet. Gareth seizes his wrist.

“Will—”

Will’s stronger than Gareth—he doesn’t look it, but there’s a lot of muscle beneath his clothes. He makes sure of it—he doesn’t wanna be the victim of anyone or anything ever again. He wrenches his wrist out of the boy’s grasp, pointing at him accusingly with the other.

“You. Suck,” Will snaps, doing his best not to yell. He doesn’t wanna get worked up enough that Gareth sees just how deeply this has stricken him, and part of him, a naive part of him, hates how devastated Gareth already looks. “I can’t believe I thought you actually liked me. I’m so fucking stupid.”

And with that, he snatches his bag up off the floor, and gets the hell out of there.

It’s only when he’s home, past his mom and his brother, and in his bedroom with the door shut tight, that he crawls into his closet and muffles his sobs with his teeth bared into a sweatshirt.

Heartbroken.

-

“Hello?”

“Don’t hang up!” Will should absolutely hang up. It’s been three days of nothing—avoiding Gareth at school, refusing to speak to him, neglecting to answer the phone even when he was nearest to it.

And now, just when it so happened that nobody else was home, Gareth was on the other end of the line.

“I should so hang up,” Will snaps, already angry. He didn’t wanna be reminded. He’s been so fucked up the last few days, it’s almost like Gareth dumped him. In a way, he kind of did. Or, Will did.

Whatever, the details aren’t important. What’s important is that Gareth lied to him. Extensively.

“Listen—I need to talk to you, but I wanna do it in person, okay? Please—just ten minutes of your time, and if it’s not fixed, I’ll never talk to you again. Except at Hellfire. But that’s it! Okay?” Will wishes he had the balls to say fuck no, but it’s too difficult. He allotted months of his life to Gareth, and as much as he hates it, can attribute a ton of his recent healing to him. Being carefree and spending time with Gareth had been exactly what he needed most days to get out of his own head, to stop thinking about things that couldn’t be helped.

A breath of fresh night air, one might say.

Looking back at that now makes Will nauseous, but he swallows it down. He doesn’t exactly want his and Gareth’s time being good friends to forever be tainted by the fact that it had all been out of pity, but Will doesn’t know what he could possibly say to make that better. He sighs into the phone.

“Get here ASAP. And ten minutes is all you get!”

“Sir yes sir!”

-

“Thank you for letting me talk,” Gareth says. Will crosses his arms over his chest. He’s got no intentions of letting Gareth step foot over the threshold, and Gareth seems to be able to tell.

“Ten minutes,” he says firmly, and Gareth nods quickly.

“The first thing I should’ve done when we started hanging out is tell you I knew about the Upside Down,” he says quickly, and yeah, he’s got that fucking right. “I’m really sorry that I hid that from you—I guess I didn’t think you’d wanna talk about it, but that doesn’t mean we shouldn’t have talked about it. I’m sorry.”

“Decent start,” Will says begrudgingly.

“Second, I did not choose you as my D&D partner because I felt bad for you,” Gareth says, and then his face get’s all screwy, and he starts shifting his weight back and forth, like whatever he needs to say is really hard for him to say. He looks left, and then down at his shoes, and then crosses his arms over his chest and let’s out a breath he’d been holding—

“Spit it out.”

“I thought you were cute!” he says, all his words running together, so much so that it takes Will a second to process what he’s even just said, “And I wanted to hang out with you and I thought that if our D&D characters shared a backstory then we’d spend a lot of time together and I’d be able to make a move but I felt bad about making a move knowing stuff about you you hadn’t shared with me so that night I wanted to kiss you so bad but I wanted to talk about what I knew first so that I wasn’t kissing you and then bringing up your childhood trauma because that wouldn’t be smooth at all, but then I messed everything up and—”

Will’s not sure what happens to his body. First of all, he’s absolutely floored at the notion that he wasn’t a charity case or anywhere near that at all—this boy was attracted to him and wanted to be around him. That’s so far out in left-field it’s practically a home run. Second—Gareth likes him? Like that? In small-town, middle-of-nowhere Hawkins, Indiana, a cute boy likes him? And it’s not Mike Wheeler, feelings-denier extraordinaire, or someone Will would rather eat glass than hang around with?

God, it’s Gareth?

He completely loses track of his ability to command his own body—he steps forward, puts both hands around Gareth’s face, and kisses him right on the mouth to shut him the hell up. Will’s never kissed anyone in his life, save for one girl in California, just to prove his own disinterest, but he makes it work. Gareth certainly doesn’t seem to be complaining, the way his arms move securely around Will’s waist and he kisses back with fervor.

They break, both void of breath. The kiss wasn’t exactly long, but all the excitement has Will’s ribs heaving. He presses his forehead into Gareth’s, blushing like crazy and avoiding the eye-contact Gareth’s trying to prompt from him.

“You’re such an idiot,” Will manages between breaths.

“Kiss me again.”

“Definitely.”

-

It was only a few weeks later that things started getting bad again, but they were heavenly weeks of sneaking around, sharing looks when no one was paying attention, and kissing in dark corners. Will started feeling whole again, like the places and things that the Upside Down had stolen from him were things that Gareth could replace, curling up on couches with him, meeting his mom, holding his hand, and treating him like someone who was already whole.

And though he wished, ached to ignore the warning signs, he told Gareth immediately when The Mind Flayer felt like it was slithering closer, lifting the hairs on the back of his neck and tugging at the corners of his mind.

And Gareth had been there, as fresh as summer night air in his lungs, all the way until the end.

[finnzhal]

CRIMSON KNOLASTNAME x GN!READER

@psychicanais asked

hey i’m just asking maybe could you do dating head canons for crimson from helluva boss? nsfw or sfw i don’t mind <33

FINN's response

Hello ! I' m sorry if this headcanons can be a bit OOC , I tried making it realistic as much as possible . I' m a SFW blog but I felt a bit risky last night and mix some NSFW headcanons there hehe

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NOTE : I don' t condone this behavior in real life . If you' re sensitive to heavy topics I suggest reading something else in my page !

I literally have to rewatch S2 EP 3 for this cause i don't give two shits about MOXXIE' s dad

If you guys are interested in requesting , my requests are open ! Just make sure to read my INFO's !!

Reader : GENDER NEUTRAL , YOU / YOUR

Character : CRIMSON KNOLASTNAME

Mentions : SPOILERS (?) , DARK Toxic relationship , Abusive , spoilers(?) , Sexism, lack knowledge of LGBTQ / homosexuality

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How you guys met

[] To be honest , I don't really see Crimson getting into committed relationships . He would just do one night stands wether a woman or a man whenever he feels ykyk

[] Crimson probably met you in a bar or you were once his victim that seduced him while you're about to get killed ( I'm loosing creativity for this one- )

[] So Crimson made you as one of his toys whenever he wants to relieve himself , calling you and talking to you just because of that .

[] Slowly meeting more other than in bed , making you as an employer of his Mafia , making you live in his house , and now actually dating . In those correct orders .

[] Crimson asked you out after one of his successful kills

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[] Crimson would spoil you with gifts , expensive ones and the most questionable yet disgusting ones too . He gifted you a skull once , the skull was from one of the people who mistreated you

[] Crimson would bite you at every part of your body whenever you guys are alone , He doesn't care if it's visible . He wants people to know you're his .

[] Crimson will and would show you off to his gangsters and to everyone

[] Crimson will call you " His treasure " or " His bait " . . If you guys are alone he'll call you " Darling " or " Dear / Dearest "

[] Crimson will literally flirt with you at any given time just to see your flustered reaction . If you do flirt back , you know what will happened next

[] Crimson will make you as bait to get his victims , if his victims gets closer to you or touch you . You'll see the victim's skull on the wall

[] Crimson would get very possessive over you

[] Crimson would get an obsession over you , He doesn't want anyone to be closer to you or take you away from him .

[] Crimson would be controlling of you , guilt tripping, and manipulating you at every chance he gets and maybe even isolating you

[] Crimson will get his gangsters to monitor you everywhere you go . He's not gonna let you try and do anything funny .

[] If you' re a man , he would choose being the top everytime you guys sleep together . It' s less gay , he said . .

[] If you're a woman , he would talk shit about your behavior for not being a "woman" enough .

[] Crimson will punish you for disobeying him . To talking back to him , doing something or going somewhere without his permission , and more

[] Crimson will do quickies with you in risky places , it gets him riled up and will be extra harsh on you

[] Crimson will degrade and praise you outside and inside of the bedroom , there' s no in between

[] There' s times that Crimson is uncharacteristically clingy and sweet . He'll purr like a cat if you pet him after a long day , wrapping his tail around you for more

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I guess that's all for him . . I couldn't think of anything else and since this isn't my cup of tea . I tried my best , I hope you like it !

If there's any grammar / spelling mistakes , please let me know !

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© Do not steal. Please. FINN's fragile

[the-moon-lullaby]

Hi! It's so great to see someone writing for good old mc. Can I get the boys (by that I mean Nathaniel, Castiel, Lysander, Kentin and Armin but feel free to left some out if that's too many characters) talking to Candy's pregnant belly? Ofc feel free to ignore if you are uncomfortable with topic of pregnancy or kids. Also have a great day!

The HSL boys talking to Candy’s pregnant belly

N/A : Heyy! Thank you for being so considerate in your request, it's lovely of you ! It was fun to write ! Thank you for your request and have a great day as well darling !<3

𝙲𝚊𝚜𝚝𝚒𝚎𝚕  

He would totally sing to Candy’s belly. Whether it is a Crowstorm unreleased song or a little lullaby, he’ll do it and you can’t convince me otherwise. Perhaps at the beginning it would be at Candy’s demand and he’d act annoyed/bothered but don’t let him fool you : he loves it. At some point, he’d just do it. Like if he’s writing a new song or anything, he’d sing it to Candy’s belly (and to Candy as well ofc). Double audience for my guy now

However better not tell anyone about this or he’ll get a bit embarrassed. He likes the fact that these moments are just between him, Candy and their baby. It’s just so intimate to him so he feels like this would ruin it a little if Candy starts to tell or brag about it to other people (as if she would tho)

Not but for real, just picture him singing Hakuna Matata to Candy’s belly (PLS this is so wholesome and funny at the same time, I CAN’T)

Also I think he would be the type to randomly interact here and there with the baby like, for example, when complaining about people (‘cause we know he does that sometimes) « God, people sucks ! Not you though, mate. » Cute 

After a while, when he feels completely comfortable with talking to the baby and that you’re both used to it, he’d be more emotionally open and would say things like « Can’t wait to meet you mate » or if it’s this kind of day when he doesn’t want to come off as too sentimental he’d go for something like « You’re gonna love Pancake » or « Pancake is so impatient to meet you buddy ! » (the dog is a good cover, right ?)

That said, I just know that Castiel would always refer to the baby as « mate » or « buddy » (any nicknames like that honestly) even if you guys already choose a name. Why ? Well because he believes it makes the situation less cheesy but (in my humble opinion), it just makes it even more adorable

He secretly wishes for his baby to be able to recognise his voice but pretend that it’s not that important to him (it is). As if he was trying to bond with his child even though they’re still in the womb lol. So behind this chill facade that he keeps on, if the baby moves or kicks while he’s speaking or singing, he’ll instantly get so excited (forget about being embarrassed, he’s to thrilled for that at the moment) and it would be the cutest thing ever. Ofc Candy would tease him a bit about it but bold of you to assume that this is going to stop him

He might even break his own rules and go brag about how his baby reacts to his voice.

And now he can’t wait to hear them in return.

𝙻𝚢𝚜𝚊𝚗𝚍𝚎𝚛 

Oh Lord ! This man, I can’t. Lysander talking to Candy’s belly would be the sweetest thing ever. 

Just imagine : Lysander reciting the most heartfelt, passionate and soul-stirring poem (that ofc he wrote himself because this man has it all y’all) kneeled in front of Candy’s belly. 

Honestly Candy would be tearing up at this sight (just as I am imagining it, Lysander truly is a gift) and when he notices that he would just place a kiss on Candy’s belly before kissing her forehead and take her in his arms. So freaking sweet. 

Lysander’s poetic (rizz) talent isn’t just a myth. He’s the embodiment of poetry if you ask me and he certainly has a way with words. 

Between him and Castiel, it’s some creative boys that we have here. How lucky

That said, be prepared for him to constantly write poems about Candy and their child. He has now two muses so his inspiration is doubled

Also, I feel like when it comes to choosing the baby’s name, he would just say the names in front of Candy’s belly and see if there’s a reaction inside. Just because he kinda wants his baby to choose their names somehow

Ofc he would sing to Candy’s belly. I mean with his angelic voice (as it was mentioned more than once in the game), how could he not ? 

I think Lysander would not feel ashamed to talk to his baby (unlike most of the boys at some point). Not in the slightest. And it make sense because since when Lysander care about what people think ? The only persons that matters to him are the persons he loves and they would never make fun of him or judge him for that. 

And of course, he'll be the greatest dad ever (his kids won't ever relate to Daddy issues by the Neighbourhood or Family Line by Conan Gray, that's for sure)

𝙰𝚛𝚖𝚒𝚗 

 Ok so with Armin if you expected heartfelt speeches or sentimental words from him, you’ve come to the wrong place. We don’t do that here lol (However, out of topic, I think Alexy would do that for him though as the invested uncle and the drama-queen he is, and ofc Armin would laugh at him)

Don’t assume he doesn’t talk to the baby though. He does and does it a lot. 

I don’t know why but I can picture him telling Candy to sit next to him while he plays LoL ( for example) and explaining how to play a game to her belly or tell everything  about the Zelda lore (idk about you but that’s funny to me)

Candy might even get annoyed at some point but Armin will joke saying that they need to educate their child as soon as possible (little does Candy knows that Armin is only half-joking lmao)

He is totally the kind of guy that will address to Candy’s belly without explicitly showing it just to mess with Candy. Let me clarify : for example he would say something and it could be anything really and Candy would go « huh ? » and « I wasn’t talking to you, I was talking to them, duh. ». But it’s all fun and games, nothing mean obviously

Or also, when Candy curses for whatever reason, he would act so shocked « Oh my God ! Have you heard what Mom said ?! » (pls someone stop this guy)

It still cute because, Armin’s playfulness is part of his charm and more than often it makes Candy smiles so everything’s alright and the baby could hope for a cooler dad.

𝙺𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚒𝚗  

Over protective dad. I won’t argue with anyone about this, I just know

You know these « dad-like speeches » where they swear they’ll always be there for you and protect you with their life ? Well that’s Kentin on a daily basis

And keep in mind that for now, the baby isn’t even out of the womb yet. My guy is rea-dy to deal with it lol

It’s actually very sweet and knowing how Kentin always felt ignored or despised by his father, it is very important for him that his child knows that they’ll can count on him no matter what

He wants to be someone they can rely on and that’s why he says it often to Candy’s belly. That way he’s sure that they know (well not really but you get the point)

I don’t see him speaking with a baby voice though because he’ll feel a bit shy about it (it’s actually sad when you think of it but most guys are embarrassed about doing things like that. That’s a shame if you ask me but let’s go back to the Headcanon before I start ranting about societal issues and how Toxic masculinity ruins lives)

But when Candy is asleep, that’s another story 

He’s just so happy that he and Candy get to have a family of their own after all this time

I mean, this boy has been in love with her for so long so the idea of having a little one as a result of this unconditional love ? My boy is over the moon right now so let out the baby voice 

That was before he got caught by Candy one night and he became so red that it looked like he got instantly sunburned

But let’s be honest, he can’t stay embarrassed in front of his girl for long because he knows she loves him as much as he loves her. Therefore, he never shied away talking to his future child from now on. 

𝙽𝚊𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚗𝚒𝚎𝚕 

So, we know that Nath doesn’t want children. That’s canon. However for the sake of this request, let’s say that he reconsidered and changed his mind (probably after months and months of therapy) 

I think of all the guys, Nathaniel is least to be talking to Candy’s belly and there’s multiple reasons for that : First, he would be embarrassed (yeah, again). Even if he knows he can be vulnerable in front of Candy, he would cringe at himself if was to do something like that (why do I get the feeling that Nath is so easy to cringe lol ?). The other reason would be that he’s still processing and that the baby’s arrival feels so far away yet (forgive him for that, he’s not exactly known to be in touch with his emotions)

But then, as the fateful moment approaches, all his attempts to gaslight himself into believing that everything will be perfectly fine seem to fire back at him

That’s about when he starts to get insomnia. Most nights, he would be just laying in bed, tired and ready to meet Morpheus with Candy already asleep by his side when this chest-crushing anxiety would take over him. « Will I be good enough ? Patient enough ? Caring ? Will I be enough ? ». Really these thoughts terrify him and slowly drive him crazy (add to that the sleep deprivation)

He categorically refuses to tell Candy about it because he knows she has enough to deal with (pregnancy is a trial of life, so I’ve heard) and he doesn’t want to be a burden to her (poor baby). And it’s not like he’s gonna ask life advices to his dad because this man might be one of the worst father figures you can think of and Nathaniel want to be the opposite of this man in terms of parenting. Candy can tell something is bothering him but getting this boy to talk is far from easy

So, one night when he’s laying wide awake in the middle of night, he can’t help but to stare at Candy’s belly and instinctively, puts his hand over it. A so gentle move that it could barely be felt, as if he was scared to wake the little one (and Candy as well). 

Then without knowing why  he wants to tell his future child that he’ll do his best so, in a whisper, he makes this promise. And then he makes another one and keeps going naturally. All whispers. He asks himself if these promises are for the child or for himself until he feels something timidly moving under his hand.

He could barely feel it. To the point he thought he imagined it. But it didn’t matter. Somehow, he felt relieved. About what ? He couldn’t be sure about this but maybe it was a sign that his baby knew that he was trying.

After that, it would become a habit. Every time he would struggle to fall asleep he would whisper to Candy’s belly, hoping that the baby hears (even if sometimes he tells himself that it’s ridiculous but who cares if it is after all ?)

He’ll never tell Candy about it or not before a while as he likes the idea that this is him and his kid’s secret and he know can’t wait to meet them because he doesn’t want to let fear keeps him from being the father they deserve

(𝖮o𝖿, 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖺𝗇𝗀𝗌𝗍 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗀𝗎𝗒 ! 𝖡𝗎𝗍 𝗐𝗁𝖾𝗇 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗄 𝖺𝖻𝗈𝗎𝗍 𝗂𝗍, 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗋𝖾 𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗋 𝖺 𝗍𝗂𝗆𝖾 𝗐𝗁𝖾𝗋𝖾 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗋𝗈𝗎𝗍𝖾 𝗐𝖺𝗌𝗇’𝗍 𝖺𝗇𝗀𝗌𝗍𝗒 ? 𝖭𝗈𝗍 𝗌𝗈 𝗋𝗈𝗆𝖺𝗇𝗍𝗂𝖼 𝖻𝗎𝗍 𝗋𝖾𝖺𝗅𝗂𝗌𝗍𝗂𝖼 𝗂𝗇 𝗆𝗒 𝗈𝗉𝗂𝗇𝗂𝗈𝗇. 𝖧𝖾'𝗌 𝖺 𝖻𝗂𝗍 𝖾𝗆𝗈𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇𝖺𝗅𝗅𝗒 𝖼𝗈𝗇𝗌𝗍𝗂𝗉𝖺𝗍𝖾𝖽 𝖻𝗎𝗍 𝗁𝖾'𝗌 𝗌𝗍𝗂𝗅𝗅 𝖻𝖻𝗀) 

And there you go ! Hope you enjoyed it ! there might be mistakes but I wrote this at 4am instead of studying for my Italian exam because why not eheh (this was much more fun to do) This is a first (and I am struggling) but I think it's pretty okay

See y'all soon and wish you the best ! <3

PS : Here's a little song recommandation ‘cause I can & it’s a good song ! It's called Run Away to Mars by Talk and I thank my labo teacher for recommending it, she's a sweetheart !

[lamprophonia]

》 [ yandere!Musician. ] 《

character intro. masterlist.

yan!musician x gn!reader: yandere alphabet. 2405 words. reader referred to as 'you'. cw for general yandere behavior — stalking, abduction, etc.

DO NOT USE OR REPOST MY WRITING ANYWHERE.

☆ A IS FOR AFFECTION. how do they show their love and affection? how intense would it get?

amir's main way of showing affection would be to start involving you in literally everything he does. he'd have the two of you attached at the hip in no time. boring meetings, random errands, lunch, events; he has a busy schedule, and although he makes plenty of time for you — as much as he can — he really wishes you could be around all the time.

and, of course, as he includes you in everything he does, that extends to his music. he considers you his biggest source of inspiration. outside of writing you songs, entire albums, if you'd like, he would absolutely adore being given the chance to serenade you.

☆ B IS FOR BLOOD. how messy are they willing to get when it comes to their darling?

amir isn't a very violent person. he doesn't want to be aggressive or do anything that would make him unworthy of your affection; he feels too manipulative at even suggesting you stop hanging out with someone because he doesn't like them. he might develop some brutal urges towards other people after developing and obsession with you, but he doesn't have any desire to give into them; hell, he'd find them shameful.

☆ C IS FOR CRUELTY. how would they treat their darling once abducted? would they mock them?

amir would probably never abduct you, but even if he's brought to the brink and snaps, absolutely not. would never be cruel to you and would be apologetic about the entire ordeal.

☆ D IS FOR DARLING. aside from abduction, would they do anything against their darling's will?

again, he would never want to abduct you, so this is just another plain no. the worst he'd do is drag you to a party or gig you're not hyped about, and even then, you can most definitely convince him to leave you at home. you'll just be getting spammed with 'this would be much more fun if you were here :(' texts.

☆ E IS FOR EXPOSED. how much of their heart do they bare to their darling? how vulnerable are they when it comes to their darling?

amir would be open about how intense his feelings for you are — hell, he might even refer to it as obsession — but he'd be very good at dressing it up in layer of metaphors, fancy words, and similes, making it sound less like an admission of something ultimately toxic and more like a confession of undying devotion. generally emotionally open when it comes to his emotions, especially the ones directed at you.

☆ F IS FOR FIGHT. how would they feel if their darling fought back?

absolutely heartbroken. amir would take it in stride if you weren't into any of his romantic advances, but inside, his world would be crumbling and falling apart at the seams.

at that point, he wouldn't immediately move to the point of abduction, but he would most definitely do everything in his power to keep you around as a friend, an acquaintance, an employee, even — whatever. he formed a creative dependency on you long before confessing; by the time you get a chance to reject him, the idea of being apart from you is already unbearable.

☆ G IS FOR GAME. is this a game to them? how much would they enjoy watching their darling try to escape?

amir would probably be mildly offended and hurt at the idea that this is a game for him. he considers the two of you soulmates, and he is serious about that.

same as with you rejecting him, amir would be absolutely heartbroken at you trying to leave him. that's probably where he would let the worst of his obsession shine through, trying to do anything to get you to stay.

what do you want from him? why are you leaving? is it money? has he not been spending enough time with you? is it something else? just tell him the problem, please, so he can fix it. he needs to fix it. the idea that there is no problem he can fix — maybe you just plain lost feelings or it's something else completely outside of his control — is his worst nightmare.

☆ H IS FOR HELL. what would be their darling's worst experience with them?

amir would, as opposed to leon, for example, be unwilling to let you see how life is without him. he would be around you at all times, and it would get smothering. you are the most important person in his life — he updates you on practically everything he does, every event in his schedule, every butterfly he saw that reminded him of you, for some fucking reason; everything.

and he'd expect you to do the same.

he wouldn't get angry if you didn't, though — this man quite literally believes you have never made a mistake in your life — he would just think that he's done something wrong, which in turn leads him to doing things more.

more gifts, more texts, more dates, gifts, flowers, updates; clearly, there's a problem here somewhere that he needs to fix. amir would never actually ask you if something was up; he'd just assume that there was, and that it's his job to find out what it is — most likely via following you around without your knowledge — and proceeding to absolutely smother you in affection until it fixes itself.

when does he determine that the issue is fixed? who fucking knows. even amir himself probably doesn't. until whenever that is, he will simply get more and more and more overbearing until even the act of you leaving after hanging out with him would send him into an obsessive spiral.

☆ I IS FOR IDEALS. what kind of future do they have in mind for/with their darling?

amir didn't really have a clear path for an ideal future; he was propelled into stardom without much preparation, and although he has some vague goals related to his music he wants to achieve, nothing is quite set in stone yet — or at least it wasn't until he met you.

now, those goals are still there, but you have overshadowed every single one of them. he only hopes to spend as much time as possible with you. absolutely willing to prioritize you over his work if it gets in the way of that.

if you said you always dreamt of getting married and having kids, he'd start looking for engagement rings and through lists of baby names. if you didn't want that, then he'd be perfectly content to just keep your relationship as is. despite the lack of clear ideas, amir is honestly excited for every new day when he's with you.

as long as you'll be there, he'll be happy. he's absolutely sure of that.

☆ J IS FOR JEALOUSY. do they get jealous? do they lash out or find a way to cope?

amir gets jealous; much more than he'd be willing to admit. he realizes it's unhealthy and desperately tries to keep it at bay, but seeing you — so perfect, a literal angel on earth — give your attention to anyone but him hurts.

he knows it shouldn't — you're a free person, you can do whatever you want, and he respects that — but he feels like he's getting stabbed whenever he sees you be even the slightest bit affectionate towards somebody else.

amir copes, though, realizing lashing out would probably be the last thing you want from him. he'd hate to upset you — he wants to be worthy of your presence, your love, after all. just don't be surprised if he suddenly starts getting a lot more affectionate than usual after you exchange a hug or some smiles with someone else. even if they were just a friend.

☆ K IS FOR KISSES. how do they act around or with their darling?

incredibly affectionate. amir looks at you like you're a masterpiece, in or out of conversation. he has a tendency to go silent, just listening to every syllable that leaves your lips intently; this combined with the absent-minded staring sometimes makes it look like he's not listening at all.

that couldn't be farther from the truth, though. he learns and remembers every little detail about you, your hobbies, your favorite things in the world; storing it for later, for whenever there's the opportunity to gift you little trinkets and send you things that reminded him of you.

his hands are almost always on you in some way. holding yours fully or just keeping your pinkies interlocked, resting his chin on your head or your shoulder, wrapping an arm around your waist or shoulder. anything to keep you close. sucker for kisses on the cheek or temple, tiny little tokens of affection.

generally, amir is always trying to do more for you. he wants to prove he's worthy of your affection.

☆ L IS FOR LOVE LETTERS. how would they go about courting or approaching their darling?

after meeting you, amir will slowly but surely make his way into your life. sending you texts, reminders, anything that reminds him of you, until his presence is a constant in the back of your head. talking to you has become a step of his routine, sending you things over morning coffee or updating you during his lunch break.

whenever he's back from tour, he also makes sure to involve you in his plans. come hang out while he writes song lyrics, grab coffee with him when he's leaving the studio, or maybe be his plus one to a music festival he's been waiting for for months; any time spent with you is time well spent in his book.

by the time he asks you out on a proper date, it's not a surprise to you or anyone else around. he'll make sure it'll be a familiar and casual experience, wanting it to feel as comfortable for you as possible.

☆ M IS FOR MASK. are their true colors drastically different from the way they act around everyone else?

not really. amir is just honestly a pretty sweet person. he's got a mild-to-severe obsession that makes him extra affectionate to you, sure, but he is also just... genuinely nice to those around him. even his obsession comes from a sincere belief that the two of you are soulmates. meant to be.

☆ N IS FOR NAUGHTY. how would they punish their darling?

amir unironically believes you can do no wrong, so he straight up wouldn't. he is much more likely to believe that any coldness from your side is a result of some mistake that he's made, and he will quickly go into problem-solving mode. the mere idea of hurting you hurts him. he absolutely can not stomach it.

☆ O IS FOR OPPRESSION. how many rights would they take away from their darling?

none.

if amir ever got to the point of going completely off the rails and abducting you, he would do so with a heavy heart and be incredibly apologetic about it the entire time. he would want to take as little away from you as possible, trying to prove himself worthy of your grace, even then.

☆ P IS FOR PATIENCE. how patient are they with their darling?

amir would wait a few weeks before asking you out. he would spend around two or three months just cementing himself as someone in your life, as an option — a good option. the best, in fact. he wouldn't hide the fact he's interested in you romantically, but he'd take some time before asking you out immediately.

☆ Q IS FOR QUIT. if their darling dies, leaves, or successfully escapes, would they ever be able to move on?

any of those options would break amir beyond repair. if you left him romantically, he would fight for you to stay platonically as best he could. he's dedicated his life to you, whether that be reciprocated or not. he wouldn't ever find anyone else, though, and would probably be open about the fact that that's because he cannot find it in himself to get over you.

your death would be one of the worst things that amir could ever imagine. the idea of a life spent without you in any capacity is unbearable. it's his worst fear — a problem he can't fix, an issue completely out of his control. he can not confront the idea of doing everything right and still losing you.

☆ R IS FOR REGRET. would they ever feel guilty about abducting their darling? would they ever let their darling go?

absolutely yes and probably yes. it would take something giant for amir to snap and abduct you, and he would do so with an aching heart and constant whispers of apologies. if you can wear him down and play — or just genuinely be miserable enough, he would probably let you go quite easily.

☆ S IS FOR STIGMA. what brought about this side of them (childhood, curiosity, etc)?

blind delusion.

☆ T IS FOR TEARS. how do they feel about seeing their darling scream, cry, and/or isolate themselves?

amir would immediately go into problem-solving mode. probably not your guy when it comes to emotional support — won't really give you the time to collect and compose yourself before asking a barrage of questions about what the issue is — but to his credit, you can see he is absolutely trying to help.

seeing you in pain, screaming or crying, hurts him worse than he could ever express.

isolating yourself is not really any different, other than the fact that it will make him clingier than ever before, if you even thought that possible. the harder you push yourself away, the tighter he pulls you closer.

☆ U IS FOR UNIQUE. would they do anything different from the classic yandere?

amir's incredibly soft for a yandere... and in general. detests the idea of abducting or hurting you — physically or emotionally. he already feels more guilty than he'd ever care to admit about stalking, although he's able to excuse it with the fact he genuinely believes the two of you are soulmates.

☆ V IS FOR VICE. what weakness can their darling exploit in order to escape?

it would be all too easy to use amir's immense guilt to escape if he ever abducted you. he hates, hates, hates hurting you, and there's only so far his justifications can go.

hell, you wouldn't have to do much — just looking sufficiently miserable would be enough to break down his excuses one by one, slowly but surely, but if you added... literally anything on top of that, he would break even faster.

telling him about how miserable he made you, telling him you hate him, or going the opposite route and trying to apologise to him for 'having to do this' — your words cut deeper than any knife could ever hope to. whatever route you choose to go with, he will fold eventually.

☆ W IS FOR WIT'S END. would they ever hurt their darling?

again, never. the very idea of you being hurt by anyone — worse, by him — makes his stomach churn.

☆ X IS FOR XOANON. how much would they revere or worship their darling? to what length would they go to win their darling over?

oh, amir is absolutely the reverent type. he considers you perfect, an angel or some kind of deity sent down to earth. as mentioned time and time again above, in his eyes, you can do no wrong.

he doesn't know who he has to thank for sending you down to meet him, but either way, you came into his life, and since then, he's been dedicated to winning your favor. since you've graced him with your presence, he wants to prove himself worthy of you, and he would do absolutely anything to achieve that.

☆ Y IS FOR YEARN. how long do they pine after their darling before they snap?

amir probably wouldn't ever feel the need to take and restrict his darling. it would take something big to make him snap. like, actually giant — you'd have to actually break his trust in some fundamental manner for him to even consider abducting you. it would be the reaction of someone not only completely lost in their obsession but also of someone who feels they've been pushed up against the wall.

☆ Z IS FOR ZENITH. would they ever break their darling?

if amir ever did end up breaking his darling, he would break himself in the process. the realization he caused something like that — that he destroyed the mind of the one person he loves more than anyone and anything else — would destroy him. the idea is unthinkable to him, and he'd avoid it at all costs.

[ab4eva]

‘Tomorrow Will Be Too Late’

Part 5

Summary: Elvis Presley x Reader / For as long as you can remember, you’ve loved two things - Elvis Presley and time travel. After seeing the 1968 Comeback Special for the first time, you decide to try and get back to him for one incredible night, by any means necessary.

Author’s note: I must thank my darling Marina for helping me really flesh out the storyline in this chapter. I came to her with my idea, and she said “Darling, now we’re talkin’ southern gothic and that’s my jam.” She really helped me get the vision for it, talked it out with me and for that I am incredibly grateful. She also contributed a couple of lines so thank you baby! Also gotta shoutout my other two wives, Ally & Birdy, for their constant support, love & creativity. And last but never least, all of you who are invested in this story. You keep me going when I feel like I can’t go on with it. I cherish your screams and your support. 💕

Warnings: Angst, mention of death, sad Elvis, language.

Word count: 4.4k

TWBTL masterlist

-

I love you more today

More today than yesterday

But I love you less today

Less than I will tomorrow

-

Elvis grips her shoulders, her body trembling under her thin, white nightgown, her eyes haunted and wild. She lifts a hand and presses a soft, warm palm to his cheek, looking for all the world like she knows him, really knows him, and is sorry for him. Like she’s trying to comfort him. At her touch, the hearing in his left ear vanishes, the chirping birds and crickets filtering through lopsidedly. Elvis shakes his head and a ringing noise slowly filling his ears as his hearing returns, a calmness settling over him. The feeling of deep grief, that heavy ache in his heart, has subsided a tiny bit, the tears that had tracked down his cheeks earlier are dry. Her hand slips from his face with a sigh, and her eyelashes flutter closed as she slumps in his arms. He gently lays her on the grass, smoothing the hair from her forehead and patting her cheek gently.

“Aw hell, honey. Wake up. Please wake up.” A familiar voice floats somewhere above you, a desperate, pleading edge coloring the words. “Aw hell,” you hear him swear again, and struggle to open your eyes. A large, warm hand cups your face, alternately patting lightly and stroking. It feels so nice you’re tempted to let the nothingness pull you under again. There’s a reason you want to let it…you just can’t recall what it is. And that voice, so familiar, yet - not as you remember. It’s higher, for a start, not the deep, rumbling tone you’re used to. And quicker, running words together almost as if he can’t get them out fast enough, like his mouth can’t keep up with the ideas tumbling from his head. You’re used to the slow and steady pace of his thoughts made manifest.

“Come on, be a good girl and open those pretty little eyes for me. I saw ‘em lookin’ at me before, like you’d seen a ghost or somethin’. Now why would you look at me that way, honey? I ain’t ever seen you before in my life.” He carries on a one-sided conversation and somewhere in your foggy brain you find it amusing. “Now, I-I-I don’t know what’s wrong with ya, why y-y-you’re actin’ like this but I-I-I need ya to get up now. You hear me? Wake up, dammit!” He shakes you gently by the shoulders, then a little more forcefully and you can hear the fear in his voice. He’s scared. You hate that he’s scared, hate that you’re the one that’s made him this way. This, more than anything, breaks you from your fog and your eyes blink open. He’s backlit against the pale, misty morning light and for a moment, you can believe it’s your Elvis staring back at you, so eerily similar in their shapes and contours - the sharp curve of cheekbone and strong jaw. The swooping hair and broad shoulders. But…he isn’t your Elvis. And everything comes flooding back in a painful flash that has you sitting up and doubling over, all at once. You feel a light hand on your back as you clutch your stomach, trying to breathe in and out, trying to still the racing of your heart, not to mention the terrifying cacophony of thoughts jumbling your mind.

“Just breathe, baby. Good girl,” he whispers, and it makes your stomach turn. For a moment you’re jolted upside down and back again, his words ringing in your ears, and you’re filled with a coldness so deep you begin to shake. You remember the last time you heard him speak those exact words to you…in the hallway of NBC studios, when he knelt beside you just like this, hand on your back, murmuring quietly as if to a skittish colt. Now his hand begins to rub slow circles between your shoulder blades, his palm barely meeting your skin, an attempt at calming you…but it burns like fire. “You must be cold,” he continues quietly and it makes your arms tighten around your middle as you bend further in on yourself, silent tears falling, short gasping breaths only adding to your chill. You wish he’d stop touching you, wish he’d take his hand off your back. His palm is so feather-light, as if he’s afraid of too much contact now that you’ve come around. It’s a reminder that he isn’t the Elvis you left. Your Elvis would have his arms around you in a heartbeat, he’d be pulling you into his lap, truly comforting you. Your Elvis wouldn’t be afraid to touch you. You scoot forward a little, desperate to get away from his scorching touch.

She’s a curious thing, isn’t she? Elvis thinks, wondering why she’s leaning away from his touch, when he’s used to women doing the opposite. For the moment, his grief is forgotten, moved to the back of his mind. How did she get here? And why? Who is she? These questions and so many more are doing somersaults in his mind, slicing through the overwhelming sadness he had been trying to escape. Early morning walks in the back pasture at Graceland had been the only thing that seemed to calm his spirit since his mama got sick. Since his mama went and left him, went and left him to spend the rest of her time with Jesse. Somewhere in his heart he knew it was selfish to try and keep her from her other son. Jesse needed Mama too, and Elvis took a tiny bit of comfort in knowing they were together again. It wasn’t much but it was all he had to cling to these days.

And then this woman had just…appeared. Out of nowhere, out of thin air. He’d been been walking and crying, talking to God, begging him for a sign that he hadn’t been fully abandoned, completely forsaken. A sign that things would be ok somehow. He had felt so utterly alone since his mama left this earth. He had so much love left for her and he didn’t know where to put it now. Didn’t know what to do with all this love that was running through his veins for her. And then there she was…she knew his name, she seemed to know him. Not like the world knew him, not “Elvis the Pelvis” or “The Memphis Flash,” not even “Elvis the Movie Star.” Just him, just Elvis. Her wild eyes had held so much…love. And pain.

When she touched him he had felt - like he was floating above his grief instead of walking hand in hand with it. A small reprieve. Had God seen fit to take his mama but send him another instead, someone to help him? Help him see a way through this darkness, this despair that was eating him alive, tearing at his insides day after day? A way through the troubled thoughts that too often swirled uninvited in his mind. Dark visions of a river rushing over him, of letting it pull him under, letting it take away the pain. It was almost as if…as if her touch had absorbed his grief, as if she had taken some of it from him and into herself. That must be why she had passed out, why she couldn’t stop crying now. An angel. Angel of Grief. An answer to his prayer. He wasn’t alone, not anymore.

Elvis suddenly wraps his arms around you and the heat radiating off of him warms you almost instantly. You freeze, not expecting the sudden closeness. But you shiver in his arms, and the familiar feeling of them comforts you. His arms are the same - same strength, same bones, same flesh. He’s mumbling something into your hair, you can only make out snatches of words. You hear him whisper “mama” and “…sent me an angel.” On instinct you wrap your arms around his waist, spanning his back as your head falls onto his shoulder and you melt into his embrace. You sit there a minute, each comforting the other, until he pulls away and looks at you, wonder and awe and a little bit of shyness lighting his features.

“You alright? You had me scared there for a minute. You’re not hurt, are ya?” His hands flutter lightly over you, as if to make sure that you aren’t physically injured. His concern makes your heart skip a beat and you open your mouth to respond but your breath catches in your throat. This is as close to young Elvis as you’ve been and you take him in, fully, for the first time. He’s familiar of course, you know him too. Just not in the same way your knew your Elvis. This one you know from his movies, from the countless pictures you’ve seen of him from this time period, from the TV performances. He’s different entirely from the man you left, and now that you’re getting your bearings, you don’t feel quite so shocked by him. His cobalt eyes are red-rimmed, dark circles underneath marring his his beautiful face.

“Is she ok?” he asks suddenly, looking at you expectantly, his eyebrows drawing together as worry etches across his pretty features. You’re confused by this question, seemingly out of the blue.

“Is she…” you start, unsure of what he means.

“Mama…is she ok?” he asks again, waiting for an answer like you’re the only one who can give it. And it dawns on you, remembering his whispered words a minute ago, his sudden closeness. It can’t be. Can it? Does he really think you’re…an angel? You knew Elvis was a spiritual man, always in tune with things not of this world. It makes perfect sense from everything you’ve ever read or heard about him. It just- fits. But how will you explain it to him in the future, your presence here. Does he not remember… Oh. Your stomach drops and you think of all the times he said he remembered you but couldn’t place you. How he insisted that you’d met before. And you passed it off as a man who had met too many people, seen too many faces and you just reminded him of someone else. In his haze of grief he’s convinced himself you’re an angel. You swallow, unsure of how to proceed, unsure if you can actually pull this off. Let him believe you’re not human, an angelic being. It makes you uncomfortable, like you’re lying to him. But the hopeful look on his face and the fact that you have no good reason for being here makes up your mind for you. He’s still looking at you expectantly, waiting for an answer.

“She’s fine, Elvis. She’s just fine,” you whisper, blinking back tears that threaten to fall again as you cup his cheek, your thumb running over the rough stubble gathered there. “I know how much you loved your Satnin. I know how hard this is for you.”

Elvis looks at her, startled. How did she know…Satnin? No one but family and close friends knew he called his mama that. There’s no way she should know this, but she does. He shouldn’t be surprised, shouldn’t be shocked but he is. It’s just further confirmation that this woman, this angel, was sent here to help him, comfort him.

“You’re in pain,” he says, eyebrows drawing together again, this time with concern for you. “You took it didn’t you? When you touched me? Took my sadness, took it upon yourself knowing I’d have a chance to heal a little bit. It nearly killed ya in the process.”

This man, your man. Only he would be concerned for a angel, a supernatural being. It’s the first thing that endears you to this strange version of the man you love. He can’t understand the complexity of your pain, the part of you that aches for this boy who just lost his mother, who would do anything to take away his sadness. He thinks you’ve done just that - a small mercy. And the other part of you that aches for the man you love, the man you left, the man you might never see again. And so you say the only thing you’re capable of at the moment - “I’m alright. I’ll be alright,” you reassure him, shivering again, the dampness from the ground seeping through your nightgown. It’s unseasonably cool this morning, a rare summer dawn that holds more chill than warmth at this early hour. Elvis notices and helps you stand, holding onto you while you get your balance.

“Let’s go for a drive,” he says suddenly. “Always helps me clear my head. ‘Sides, got a blanket in my car so you can warm up.” He gently takes your hand in his, tentatively at first but when you instinctively lace your fingers through his, he smiles at you, a small sad smile, and squeezes your hand. Another little piece of your heart clicks into place.

It’s quiet on the road, you wrapped in the scratchy wool blanket Elvis has pulled from the trunk and him in the driver’s seat, absentmindedly tapping out a rhythm on the steering wheel to a song only he can hear. He keeps looking over at you, as if to reassure himself that you’re still there, that you’re not gonna disappear on him. You see him breathe a sigh of relief every time, his shoulders relaxing, the small exhale of breath a constant, soothing reminder in the silent car. You’re not sure how to talk to him, still disoriented and shell-shocked as you traverse the empty Memphis streets, the ten-year gap from this boy in 1958 to the man in 1968 becoming ever more apparent the more you drive through town. Mercifully, he breaks the silence with a question.

“Jesse?” A word. Just one word. A word that holds so much hope, and a great deal of fear. It reaches out and takes hold of you, this word, heavy with meaning and love and a strange sort of grief. The kind of grief that is placed upon you by others. Well-meaning, intended with love, but forced upon you nonetheless. It’s mixed with his own grief, the kind he has come to recognize with time and self-reflection and that unknowable ache that is always with him, as near and dear to him as the brother - twin - he lost. You realize he’s asking if Jesse is ok.

“Jesse’s happy. He’s with your mama now…they have each other and they’re ok. They both miss you something awful, though. Your daddy too.” You glance at him out of the corner of your eye and see him blink rapidly, futilely willing the tears that threaten to fall to stay put. You bite your lip and look back out the window, feeling like a intruder on his heartache. He sniffs and clears his throat, hurriedly swiping at his eyes with the back of his hand.

“You alright? Elvis?” you murmur quietly as you cover his hand resting on the seat between you with your own, running your thumb in gentle circles over his skin. He nods, still too choked up to speak, and gives you a quick, watery smile.

“I’m gonna be alright, darlin’,” he pauses, unsure of how to go on. “If I don’t get a chance to tell you before you go…thank you.” You smile, entirely charmed by this sweet and gentle boy, so unlike the man you know.

“She was very special, wasn’t she? Your best girl,” you press his hand, gently encouraging him, thinking maybe it’ll do him some good to talk about his feelings.

“Mama is…was…my best friend. She took care of me, like no one else could, not even Daddy, not even Dodger.” He tries to keep his voice steady, tries and fails.

“You were her special boy, her whole life. She put all of her love and care into you, didn’t she? Couldn’t bear to be parted from you, not even for a little while. Took you with her when she worked the cotton fields…you couldn’t have been more than a few months old when she was dragging you in a sack beside her, picking cotton til her fingers bled. That’s true love.”

He pales, the blood draining from his face as his mouth opens, a sharp inhale of breath the only sound in the car except the pounding of your own heart. You realize your mistake almost immediately. You shouldn’t know that about him. It’s too intimate, too personal. He isn’t so far removed from that life. The problem with Elvis having been dead for over forty years is that every single person who ever knew him feels the need to talk about him. Even those that didn’t know him talk about him, write books and articles and papers about him. Research his life and his parent’s life and on and on.

“How did…” he starts to say, looking spooked, but then his face relaxes and he lets out a ghost of a laugh, a little huff of air that leaves his half-upturned lips and he shakes his head. “Gosh, it’s good to talk about mama with someone who really knew her. Daddy can’t bear to talk about her now…and he’s the only other person who really knew her like I did. Loved her like I did.”

You take his hand again without a word and grasp it lightly, encouraging him to go on. He does, and you talk about his mother with him while he drives and cries, and the sun comes up fully, painting Memphis a beautiful rosy color, the late summer sun bouncing off the brick buildings, the leafy green trees waving to you as you pass. Before you know it, hours have gone by, and you see the gates of Graceland come into view. You can see a crowd gathered there, and it’s a shock to your system after the quiet, cozy drive. You start to panic, there are women with cameras everywhere. You can’t be photographed with Elvis, in 1958. You simply can’t.

“Elvis, I can’t…I don’t…” you aren’t able to finish your thought, you’re getting closer to Graceland by the second and you’re frozen in fear, powerless to do anything about it. Somehow Elvis understands what you’re trying to say, how you feel.

“Just lay down, darlin’, I’ll cover you with the blanket. No one’ll see you, I promise,” he glances at you knowingly, and you slide to the floorboard, your knees hitting the carpet as he pulls the blanket over your head. You peek through your cover and watch him as he pushes his sadness to the side as he pulls into the drive, his fans a comfort to him now more than ever before. Showering him with love, not the kind that he used to get from his mama, but love all the same. And he soaks it up like drought-stricken earth.

You realize with a start that you’ve seen this photograph of him, have alway been enchanted by it. The slender figures of the women outside his gates, cameras raised to hide their faces. Hiding their faces while capturing his. His long, slender arm hanging outside of the open Cadillac, hand drooping lazily as if in invitation. That hair, those sideburns. You’ve seen this photograph a dozen times…you just didn’t realize you’d be next to him when it was taken. And the oddest feeling courses through your veins, not quite deja vu but something hauntingly similar. In a flash, you see all the men he will become. The all-American Army boy: soft and young when he leaves for Germany, lean, older and wiser when he returns. The slick, Hollywood Ken Doll: singing and dancing his way through film after film, a continuous montage of tiny white shorts, red windbreakers and cowboys hats on an endless loop. The slender ‘68 Comeback Special man: a gritty, leather-clad force of nature reminding everyone why he was a star in the first place. The glittery gaudiness of Las Vegas: jumpsuits and karate moves, hundreds of women kissed each week and left begging for more. And finally, as if he somehow knew he was nearing the end of his life, a return to the soft and round form much like the one he had entered the world in.

But all of that was before him still and only you have the privilege and pain of seeing all that he was, all that he would become. Beside you now sits the young and eager boy with his whole life ahead of him. Only you can look into his eyes and see the man you knew and didn’t know. The man you loved and didn’t love. The man who would become more than an icon, almost god-like in his legacy. You ache to tell him all these things, to spare him pain and save him in some way. But you risk losing everything you’ve gained so far if you do, and so you simply hold his hand as he drives you through the gates of Graceland, posing for the girls outside as he does.

In a moment it’s over, this flash of past, present and future that leaves you reeling, suffocating under a blanket and heaped on the floorboard of Elvis’s car. Just when you think you might panic, he pulls the blanket off your head and pats the seat next to him. You manage to crawl back onto the seat just as you’re pulling up to the house and it hits you, why it was so familiar before. This moment has simultaneously not happened yet and already happened, sixty five years prior. Time travel is trippy, you can’t even begin to wrap your head around it.

Elvis feels a little bit lighter now, like a tiny sliver of sun peeking through the clouds on a stormy day. Still heartbroken, but maybe like he can go on somehow. The ache is still there, it would always be there. Seeing his mama the past couple of days in the hospital had been unbearable, he had felt so helpless. And then his heart had been ripped from his chest, and everything he had ever loved, everything he had ever held dear was gone in an instant. But this woman - this angel - had helped him when he needed it most. He wishes she could stay forever, he feels so at peace with her near. He knows it’s too much to ask, but he hopes she’ll stay a little bit longer.

In the few hours you’ve spent with Elvis this morning you’ve come to realize that he isn’t so different from the one you love. His spirit is the same, his humor and wit, his love of life and all that it offers. He’s the same man, and you find yourself wanting to inch closer to him, to close the distance between you on the car seat. It hits you like a lightening bolt - you…god help you but…you love him too. Of course you do. Is this why you have an almost unnatural possessiveness over him? When it seems like you shouldn’t, like you haven’t any claim to him. But…he hasn’t met his future wife, not yet. It’s you. Here and now. He’s meeting you for the very first time. Before he even lays eyes on her. Somewhere in the ether you must have known it, in your bones, deep down. He was yours first. You loved him first.

A fire blazes through you at this revelation, taking your breath with it. It’s all starting to makes sense and it frightens you to your core. It wasn’t supposed to be this way. You’re not supposed to love Elvis Presley, not like this. He isn’t supposed to know you and you’re not supposed to be here. It’s not in the history books, it’s not what happened. You have to leave. Now. You can’t stay any longer and risk messing things up - messing his life up. He’s too important to too many people, you included. He’s staring at you now like you're the only lifeline he has, like you’re the answer to every problem and every question he has. That heart that was being pieced back together earlier, your heart, now shatters apart. It breaks to think about leaving him like this, so entwined with his grief, so overcome with the hand life has dealt him - cruel and kind at the same time. Your tears pool and fall down your cheeks as you reach a hand out to him, needing to feel his touch again, maybe for the last time. He takes your hand, placing it on his cheek, his warm palm covering yours. He nuzzles it, the scratchy hair of his unshaven jaw tickling you lightly, before he gently places a soft kiss to the inside of your wrist, his tender lips branding you, claiming you. You didn’t think it would be this hard, leaving him. You didn’t think you’d be torn, that you’d actually give a thought to staying. Not when you had someone to get back to. And yet…

“Elvis…sweetheart…it’s time. I have to go now,” you say through your tears, surprised when you feel something hot and wet drip onto your hand still holding his cheek. He’s crying now too, as if he knows this moment holds more significance than he can fully grasp. He shakes his head, no, always stubborn, and pulls you to his chest, clutching you there tightly. Your arms encircle his waist as you hang on for dear life, the waves crashing over you both threatening to pull you under.

“No, no, no….please don’t leave me. Please don’t go,” he cries against your hair, your bodies wracked with sobs as you cling to one another, each mourning the loss for a different reason. You know you’ll never be the same after this. You can never again be who you were before you held a broken Elvis Presley in your arms on the day his mother died. Before you realized that you'd gone and truly fucked up the one life you have. Because now you know. Know that you can’t have a life that Elvis isn’t a part of. You’re breaking in two and he is holding you. And everything is exactly as it should be. And everything is all wrong.

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