#( still figuring out if he wants to accept those feelings and trying to understand them too since no one's ever interested him like that )

[room-surprise]

Yeah I figured it was a reference to a previous ask! I vaguely remembered you getting an ask like this in the past, and wanting to comment on it back then, but not having time LOL so this time I made sure to reblog so I could share my opinion. Sorry, this is going to be long and a bit meandering. I ended up having to look back and forth in the manga for all kinds of references... 😩

I agree that we don't know exactly what happened with Mithrun, the version we see is from Kabru's imagination, and he's summarizing the events - and Mithrun even says that Kabru got various details wrong, so we can assume that we are being presented with the general idea of what happened, minus anything that Kabru thinks is "too complicated" for Laios to understand...

(Based on Kabru's opinion on Laios, this most likely means omitting any complex emotions, relationships, or politics.)

However, Kui also wants to communicate with us efficiently (she is telling a LOT of story VERY quickly), so while things have been simplified, I don't think she's trying to trick us by drawing deceiving things. In other words, I think we are meant to accept most of the story as true, but to be aware that it's more complex than what Kabru tells us.

So in response to that first question asker, I think it's debatable, and that fans disagree on if Mithrun knew or didn't know if his companions in the dungeon were monsters, if they were real people or monsters, if they started as people and got replaced, if some were monsters and some were people all along... and we can't give a certain answer based solely on what we know from the manga or extra materials so far.

The only things I feel comfortable saying definitively is that the snake spouse was not the real person in any way, because there's no way they (Sultha) were in the dungeon, and no way for the demon to bring them into the dungeon, and we know the dungeon only seems capable of using monsters to make fake copies of people, based on the target's knowledge of the person and how they desire them to act. So the snake spouse Mithrun interacted with is just a copy.

I also don't think we can actually say if Mithrun fought his own comrades at any point or not. He might have, he might not. All we do know is that a lot of them died, which Mithrun describes as "being devoured by the dungeon."

It's implied, but not explicitly shown that Milsiril and Helki went into the dungeon with Mithrun's team... and they got out of the dungeon alive, and came back five years later.

(Might be Milsiril on the left side of the image, and in both images they seem to be walking somewhere after passing through a hole in a wall.)

So we know a lot of the original squad died in the dungeon, but we genuinely don't know if all of them died, and when and how those deaths happened.

So then, for my personal opinion about how aware Mithrun is in the dungeon...

I think the demon seduces and ensnares its prey, similar to the psychic succubus mosquitos, or a magic mirror. Kui introduces the demon to us for the first time during the succubus story, and the chapter cover for "Winged Lion" isn't a picture of the winged lion, but instead "monsters that capture your heart", including the succubi and magic mirrors, implying that the demon is also this type of creature.

(There are other types of monsters shown like the nightmares, mimics, mermaids, etc. which I think is an obfuscation tactic in this case, to make what Kui is doing less obvious. She still wants us to think the WL might possibly be a good guy.)

Like the succubi and the mirror, the demon doesn't need to understand your desire, and you don't have to admit to your desire or consent to it, but it will reflect what is inside of you, and its power allows it to give you what you want.

Kui repeatedly associates mirrors with the demon, but never actually has the main cast fight against a mirror monster (I'd guess because she thought it would be redundant).

And from the way the demon keeps trying to give Marcille copies of people (her father, Falin) I think we're meant to understand that the demon prefers to make copies of people: it's easier, and copies will never get in the way by having free will. They'll keep the dungeon lord pacified, which is what the demon needs so it can feed off of them.

As for Mithrun's friends in the dungeon looking "too lively" compared to Marcille's father to be copies or illusions...

They are more lively than Marcille's father, but Marcille's father is only one type of shapeshifting monster, a doppelganger. Not all monsters that imitate humans in Dungeon Meshi do such a bad job of it.

Is that because doppelgangers are bad mimics that don't need to be convincing? Is it because Marcille isn't cooperating with the doppelganger because she doesn't want it around? We don't know but either possibility makes sense.

Mithrun's friends in the dungeon seem well within the capabilities of the shapeshifter (tanuki), the succubi mosquitos, or maybe a mirror. And we know one tanuki can make multiple illusions of four people at the same time, and that some of them are so convincing that people have a hard time telling them apart from their real loved ones.

(Very lively succubi)

(Tanuki shapeshifter copies.)

Kui's also shown us that even the tanuki shapeshifter (which can make incredibly accurate copies) will make poor quality copies if the target doesn't actually know the person they're copying, or doesn't really have an interest in them:

I think the biggest difference between Marcille's doppelganger and Mithrun's friends is Mithrun and Marcille's desires.

Marcille doesn't want her father's copy around, she's resisting the very idea of it existing at all. She knows that it's a copy because she knows her father is dead, that information is deeply rooted in her psyche and not something she can easily forget... She isn't giving the doppelganger octopus more than her most basic memories to play off of. She isn't cooperating.

But the power of the dungeon is so great that she seems to forget her objections eventually and refers to the doppelganger as her father, and gives it a job to do (though she does seem embarrassed about it)... and this all happens within hours of Marcille becoming Dungeon Lord.

Mithrun wants to be where he is, he wants those friends and that lover to be with him, he wants them to love him unconditionally, and never hurt his feelings. He probably doesn't care if they're real or not, his desire is shallow and selfish, he doesn't love any of them, he loves what they can give him and do for him.

In other words, he is giving the dungeon everything it needs to weave a convincing illusion... and if they act "wrong", would he even care? Would he know? How well does he know them? As long as they're giving him what he desires he'll be happy.

Now, again, it's hard to say what exactly happened in the dungeon since Kabru is retelling the story, but Kui is also probably not trying to make things super complicated and hide basic details.

I think it's clear from the art in the manga that Mithrun swings wildly between being in a delusional state as Dungeon Lord, and being aware of what's happening.

Mithrun's dead expression only goes away when he's interacting with things he doesn't want (gold strippers robbing the dungeon).

(I think the unconscious Canary we see in the left panel is probably supposed to be one of Mithrun's "friends" (real or fake), that was knocked unconscious by the gold peelers while attempting to defend the dungeon.)

When the demon begins to eat him, he starts out dead-eyed and confused, but when he realizes something is wrong, his pupils come back and he begins to struggle:

And as a last thought, I'll just add that the only image we really have of Mithrun's friends during his time as the dungeon lord shows them around a table covered with empty plates and no real signs of food or drink.

We know Kui can draw lavish banquets and beautiful food, she can draw plates that have been decimated with only scraps left behind, to indicate that a feast took place. Why did she leave the table so conspicuously empty in this panel?

I think it is supposed to hint that all except for two of the people in that scene don't eat, because they've been replaced. Kui also avoids showing most of their faces, and the one whose face we can see is one of the people with food on his plate...

(He and the Canary next to him are also the only two people at the table who seem to not be focused on Mithrun.)

But again, it's all debatable, and there isn't a concrete answer for sure. It depends on how you read it and what you feel Kui was trying to communicate...

But I think "Mithrun was delusional and not fully aware, and his friends were replaced by copies or died over time" is probably the most accurate way of describing it, based on everything else Kui shows us about the Dungeon Lords.

Personally I agree with you that Mithrun knew his friends were all illusions, and tbh, I think he was very okay with it

About Mithrun vs Marcille on the demon's copies of real-life people: Mithrun's desires were all related to image and self-worth, never the actual people in his dungeon. He didn't necessarily want the real thing - arguably he doesn't even like Sultha since he thought of the real one as "sketchy" - he just wanted the image of her, he wanted the image of being better than his brother, he wanted the image of having friends, etc. I believe that's why he was so okay with the demon making fake copies of his friends. It contrasts Marcille being so against the lion's attempt to make a copy of her dad. She wanted her actual father, so she strongly rejected the copy. But Mithrun didn't necessarily want Sultha, he wanted the image of her and the pride that came with her choosing him over his brother, so he likely didn't care that the demon was just making illusions. I agree with you that he was aware, at least on a subconscious level, that he was just playing pretend.

There's also that quote where it said his desire was to be safe from anyone who could harm him. It's possible that he was a bit afraid/paranoid of the real-life counterparts, and thought the illusion people couldn't possibly hurt him, so he felt safer around the fake people and ended up preferring them. This way he could have his friends and his girlfriend without the constant fear of getting hurt. He could feel wanted and important and loved without being on edge about what they secretly thought of him, or if they secretly wanted to hurt him. That's exactly what he wanted - the illusions fulfilled his desires better than the real counterparts ever could.

I don't really think it's a matter of image, there was nobody there to put on a show for, the show of having friends was before her became a dungeon lord, to me it's more that If you really believe nobody could ever love the real you, fake friends created by the demon is ok

Marcille had a father that truly loved her and friends that she wanted to protect, so it makes sense she was averse to the version made up by the demon at first, from the hints we get Mithrun had nobody he had a real connection with (here exemplified by what he thought of his teamates and the impression Milsiril had of him contrasted with the dungeon)

I don't really understand if other than Sultha the others are real canaries that ended up being driven away just like people were driven away from Thistle, I don't really put it past them to fall for the demon with the promise of a safer life where they don't have to risk their lives only to realize the downwards spiral is inescapable for the dungeon lord.

I don't think it's as important if he "really liked" Sultha or not, I think it's more related to insecurity and fear of rejection, having his brother chosen over him even tho "he's better" (the "perfect youth" image)

Mithrun was thrown away for being a bastard so being faced with the life he could have had probably broke him, I think there's some pride involved too in a twisted way but I read more like something related to "the life I wish I had", envy/jealousy like Milsiril describes. Being able to love and be loved back was never an option especially after joining the canaries

The illusion of this wasn't perfect as we can see, and with the paranoia and everything I doubt he ever really "preferred" the fakes to real life but rather it was all he had?

Idk I'm not good with words hope this made some sense, but even Marcille who said the recreation of her dad was "unnecessary" (quite the underreaction) still kept him around until the others defeated him so I don't really know what it says about Mithrun, maybe if he wasn't imprisoned into the book he could have manipulated Thistle into accepting a fake Delgal too?

[lostusagis]

@jiraipink asked: ♡ (Kamui!) ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

Send ♡ to see what my muse thinks of yours

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[yanderenightmare]

Gojo Satoru

TW: implied noncon, yandere

fem reader

The way Gojo Senpai is so obnoxious, he doesn’t understand his flirting is making you uncomfortable…

He seriously thinks he’s making you fall head over heels in love with him even when you give him nothing in return to make him think that. He just thinks you’re embarrassed and nervous, flustered by his attention, and that’s the reason you divert your gaze and bite your lip when he has you against the lockers, leaning on his hand with his shades gliding low on his nose—telling you that you have no shot becoming a sorcerer, but that you look too cute in the uniform not to give it your best try. 

���Don’t worry, just say my name, and I’ll come save you,” he’ll say. “You can be my personal assistant supervisor instead.” 

His game isn’t anything to brag about. It's more in line with bullying than flirting, but you pick up on the suggestiveness. That heated saccharine look within his blue eyes can only mean one thing if the way he plays with your hair isn’t enough of a hint already.

But his words are nothing short of derogatory, and all in all, he simply makes you feel gross—a sentiment you thought you put across, but it seems that having six eyes only makes you blind.

It takes Shoko telling him to leave the poor Kohai alone for him to finally understand that you don’t like him. And then he’s just confused and embarrassed.

And a tinge bit irritated.

Gojo knows for a fact he could make any girl want him. Even those who seem to hate him would melt if he gave them the same attention he’s been giving you. Any girl. He could have any girl, but he chose you. And you reject him?

No. He can’t accept that.

“Most girls would be grateful for my attention,” He states plainly after having tracked you down.

Your head snapped, jolting. “Gojo Senpai—” You dropped the mop in your hands with a clatter, having been deep in your own thoughts on classroom cleaning duty. You sighed as the scare settled, giving a breathy laugh, “You scared me—”

“Is that it?” he interrupted. “I scare you?”

You quirked a brow with a tilt of your head. “What?”

“Do I scare you?” he repeated, louder, posted on the threshold in a stance you’d never seen him in—stiff and squared, not his usual lazy laidbackness.

Confused, your eyes looked around as if searching for clues but came up emptyhanded, “Uhm, I don’t understand—”

“It’s a simple question,” he said, cutting you off again, this time with a step into the classroom. He talked slowly, cradling the next words, “Are you scared of me?”

Where it all came from, you hadn’t a clue. But then again, Gojo Senpai has always been rather strange. 

Were you scared of him? It’s not really something you’ve ever thought about. Sure, if you were to go one versus one with him, you’d probably piss yourself. But in a regular setting, you just found him to be as grating as the next person.

“I don’t think so?” you end up answering.

“Good. So what is it then?” His shades were low enough for his stare to skim over. Brighter than clear skies, and yet, somehow, so dark. “Why don’t you like me.”

Oh, so he’s figured it out on his own then. It’s about time. And thank fuck for it—saves you the trouble of breaking it to him yourself. Though you were still left with the unfair task of telling him why.

“Honestly, Gojo Senpai, I’m not, or well… you’re just not my type.”

Stick to the basics, is what you told yourself. There’s no need to drag this out.

“Yeah, I figured. I’m asking why,” he countered, in complete disagreement with your thought.

Still, you wanted to fight for it. “Does it really matter?”

“Yes.”

This conversation was the last thing you wanted, but it seemed the white-haired prodigy wouldn’t leave without having it.

“Well…” you started, still pondering. Maybe he’d appreciate the honesty? He’s a rather straightforward guy himself. “I mean, there’s no way you don’t already know this, but—” You picked up the broom again mid-sentence. “You’re really obnoxious.”

He took a small second before he scoffed, “So? No one else cares.”

It reminded you of arguing with someone half your age—the petty anger in an ill-thought-through comment slung at you as if it carried all the weight in the world. But what everyone else thought of him hadn’t anything to do with you—and even so, out of the people on campus, you’re certain you’re not the only one who finds his attitude unpleasant—they just don’t tell it to his face. 

You had half the mind to tell him to go get a grip, but he was still your Senpai.

“Good for you, I guess?” You weren’t really looking to fight with him, after all. “So you can flirt with literally anyone else then,” you dismiss him and go back to finish cleaning the classroom—glad to have put it all behind you. You were starting to fear he’d never leave you alone.

There’s a woosh, then the hard thunk of your back hitting the wall. Both your upper arms are gripped tight, pinned. When you open your eyes again after adjusting to the impact, you look straight up into the full view of two crisp comet blues.

“You’re mighty rude for a Kohai. You know that?”

Your head stings. You blink crookedly.

“Senpai—”

“Maybe I’ve misjudged you. D’you have anythin’ for show to back that attitude up?” It’s eerie how he says it in the same flirty fashion he would otherwise—even the look in his eyes are the same. But his grip tightens.

“I don’t want to fight—”

“No?” he cuts you off with a pout. “I could've sworn you were asking for it—all but begging for it a second ago.”

You whimper, cowering at the sudden bite in his voice.

“What’s the matter, huh? I thought you said you weren’t scared?”

Your voice comes out weak, “Please, Gojo Senpai, I—”

“Please?” he questions brightly, eyes stark and burning like a stovetop. “Yeah, that’s got a nicer ring to it—suits you better.” The smile that splits across his face is nothing short of unhinged. “But it’s not enough for me to let your disrespect slide.” He licks his lips, and a chill runs up your spine, feeling like caught prey. “Lucky you, I know exactly what price to put on it.”

His mouth devour yours the same way—pouncing like a beast would, with teeth more than lips, then a tongue. You whine as you twist—it’s more instinctive than deliberate when your knee shoots up into the unprotected space between his legs—right into that thing that was rubbing and rutting against you.

You make a run for it as he staggers back with a hiss, but you don’t make it farther than three measly steps before you’re bent over the closest desk.

His fist wrangles your hair, using it to shove you face-down against the wood—the weight of his body on top of your back with his voice raspy against your ear. “We could’ve left this with a kiss, but I don’t think it’s gonna be that easy now.”

Tears spill hotly in a panic, but no matter how much strength you put into lifting yourself up, you remain down. Sobbing, “Let go—help—”

He snickers with a hand under your skirt, spidering delicately up your thigh. “Who’re you callin’ for help, hm? I’m already here.”

♡ GOJO SATORU masterlist ♡ JUJUTSU KAISEN masterlist

[sleepymarimo]

𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐚 𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫.

summary: one time zoro pushes your affections away and another time when he begrudgingly accepts them. pairing: zoro x gn!reader cw: none, zoro being a cutie and confused about soft feelings an: just some fluff bc I have a headache and I wanna give him a hug :( wc: 1.2k

it seemed like zoro had always let the oddest things to happen to him.

he’d let chopper climb atop his head, tiny hooves brushing through strands of moss green hair. when the reindeer’s soft fur tickled the skin of his cheeks, he didn’t blink.

he’d let usopp cling to him in fear, idly looking around with a bored expression as the sniper tugged at his hakama or pushed him right toward whatever threat lay before them.

the list goes on and on, the ever stoic swordsman never really putting in the effort to actively resist his crew mates or the occasional curious animal.

with that in mind, you figured that you’d be able to get away with some gestures of your own.

after a particularly rough battle, you’d been so utterly happy that your arms wrapped around the rugged swordsman, squeezing him tight.

you blame it on the adrenaline, not those pesky feelings of yours that you refuse to acknowledge.

it was an innocent embrace, imbued with nothing but affection and glee, yet that didn’t stop him from tensing at your touch.

the next thing you remember is being pushed away, gently but firmly, and feeling dumbfounded.

“the hell are you doing?” he had roughly questioned, brushing off your much-too-sweet touches from his person.

uncomfortable.

he was uncomfortable and he hated it, not particularly fond of feeling so vulnerable from something as simple as a damn hug.

looking between him and your still awkwardly stretched out arms, you come to a sort of realization.

zoro didn’t just let things happen to him. no, he allowed them. every touch and tug and pinch was permitted, actively decided upon by the marimo.

that fiasco was almost a whole week ago, the thousand sunny now barreling through the rolling waves of the sea in the hopes of reaching a winter island.

even as the air became colder, the clouds darker, you continued to simmer.

unjustifiable annoyance creeps into your brain just thinking about how he pushed you away, your cheeks burning with embarrassment and hurt alike.

he didn’t feel that bad.

the swordsman had boundaries, which was understandable, set in place for the sake of self-preservation.

that small flip his heart did when he felt you hug him? the boiling heat that clawed up from his chest to his cheeks and to the tips of his ears? absolutely not.

he didn’t want to deal with that, especially after a fight and with the rest of the crew watching.

it took time for you to adjust your actions, to maneuver around the barriers he’d set in place for himself.

being the stubborn little thing you were, you decided to throw yourself into the jaws of the tiger once more.

you try your luck on a brumal morning, a light frost already starting to form on the deck. it seems like the water is still, the sea easily parting as the ship effortlessly glides on its surface.

the observation deck is your destination, where you’re sure the marimo will be.

and indeed he is, outwardly unaffected by the biting cold.

meticulous as ever, at least when it comes to his craft, he sits on a mat and polishes his blades. shoulders relaxed, but eyes sharp, he goes about his task with precision.

he knows you’ve just entered the observation room, thinking that a nod of his head and a small grunt is enough of a greeting.

the scent of steel and polish hang in the air as he continues, figuring that you’d come in to grab something.

he doesn’t expect to be what you want. what else was he good for besides swinging a damn sword around?

you mask your nerves and step inside, taking brisk steps towards the swordsman. it’s now or never, you think, quick to take a seat behind him on the mat.

with slow and gentle movements, you situate yourself into your preferred position.

your chest presses into his back, the rough material of his shirt not enough to keep you from resting your cheek there.

your inner thighs hug his outer ones, the firmness of the muscle beneath forcing you to hold back a shudder. sealing the deal, you loosely wrap your arms around his midsection.

“good morning.” you mumble, speaking to him as if he were a deer about to bolt.

silence is what you get in return and you wish you could peer into that thick skull of his to see what he was thinking.

warm.

that’s how zoro feels at first, before something akin to discomfort starts to gnaw away at him.

his hands come to a stop, his head lifting as he stared ahead and processed just what the hell you were doing.

there’s a split second of stillness- a period of time where he decides if he wants to revel in your touch or bask in his solitude for a moment longer.

it feels like eons pass before the tension is broken, fizzling into nothing as if it didn’t exist in the first place.

his hands resume their task of polishing his prized swords. the muscles in his body relax and everything else suddenly melts away.

he grants you permission.

he allows it.

“morning.” he grumbles back, speaking with an air of nonchalance that contrasted with how fast his mind was racing.

it’s a delicate balance, as frail as the thin layer of ice starting to form on the glass windows.

you know now more than ever to hold off on the banter and teasing, unless you wanted to get bucked off.

taking what you’ve been given, you’re content enough with releasing a deep breath and letting the rise and fall of his back lull you into a light doze.

time seems to pass slower in this world, in this little pocket of tranquility which exists only for the two of you.

when you finally decide to loosen your grip and pull away, he lets out a noise equivalent to a growl.

he’s almost offended.

one of his hands holds your wrist in place, his grip firm. he’s never been good at displaying tenderness, his words unintentionally gruff. “oi, where are ya goin’?”

he releases your arm, almost daring you to defy him. his muscles relax once more, calloused hands resuming the tedious task of polishing steel as he picks up his next sword.

his tone is softer, spoken as a mumble as if he was afraid of saying too much. “just stay a little longer.”

the request has you momentarily astonished, eyes widening a tad before you got a grip on yourself. your arms settle back around his waist, a pleasant buzz spreading in your chest and down to your toes.

you were well aware that this was a rare opportunity, one that you could not and would not pass up.

so, you let out a sigh and rest your cheek on his back once more.

his aura seems to encapsulate you, making you feel safe and at ease.

he’s satisfied with your reaction, how you effortlessly unwind and how your breaths even out.

once again, he’s warm.

zoro decides that he can spend hours just like this.

for the crew, he could always be a demon. for you? he wouldn't mind being a bit more human.

[steddieas-shegoes]

assistant to the dm, steve harrington

for @steddielovemonth prompt 'secretly studying nerd shit' rated t | 1,361 words | cw: mild language | tags: friends to lovers, getting together, d&d references (could be inaccurate since i don't actually play), banter that's also flirting

🐉🐉🐉🐉🐉🐉🐉🐉🐉🐉🐉🐉

"I just don't understand why you needed to borrow my character sheets. You don't even know what most of this means," Dustin said as he handed over the papers.

"I just need to see something," Steve replied, taking the papers and adding it to his mess of a kitchen table. Other character sheets were strewn all over, most filled out, but some empty. A couple of books were open on random pages, recognizable images of weapons and monsters visible to anyone who walked by.

"Why does it look like you're studying for a college degree in D&D?" Dustin asked.

Steve looked up at him, eyes blank, mouth in a straight line. "Because I finally got accepted to Indiana State. Go away."

"Fine! I want those sheets back though!" Dustin said as he left Steve to his studying.

Hours must have passed, the light outside turning to dusk before Steve thought to take a break. His head hurt, his vision was blurry, and he didn't feel any closer to understanding a god damn thing.

He thunked his head against the table, letting out pained groan as his head throbbed.

"Are you looking for something or have you decided to finally play with us?" Eddie's voice said directly behind him, making him nearly fall out of his seat. "Shit, sorry. Thought you heard me come in."

Eddie's hands were on Steve's arms, squeezing, centering.

Like he knew exactly what he needed to lose the slight hint of remaining panic left in his chest.

"I was just trying to figure out if there actual dragons in this game or if that was also made up," Steve said, sitting back and putting distance between them. He couldn't breathe when Eddie was touching him, which was often. He was starting to worry about oxygen deprivation to his brain. "Disappointed to find out the dungeons part seems like it's up to the DM."

"The whole thing is pretty made up, Stevie. That's the point," Eddie smirked, but it fell away when Steve turned back to the messy table. "Are you, like, wanting to play?"

And this is why he wanted to keep it a secret. Maybe he shouldn't have had everything spread out in the open like this, but he'd assumed he was safe in his own home. With the door locked. And with Eddie supposedly playing the Hideout tonight.

He looked back at Eddie. "Why are you here?"

"Dustin said something about you not answering the phone after he left hours ago and you seemed pissed off or something," Eddie shrugged. "Just wanted to check on you."

"The phone? It didn't ring." Steve didn't think so anyway. He had admittedly tuned his surroundings out entirely once Dustin was gone. "But it's Tuesday."

"Uh huh. It is Tuesday. How long have you been sitting at this table?"

"Ha. Funny." Steve rolled his eyes. "You play the Hideout Tuesdays. Tuesdays are for Corroded Coffin, Wednesdays are for dinner with Wayne, and Thursdays are Hellfire."

Eddie blinked at him. "Yes, usually that's true. But, wait. Sorry. You have my schedule memorized?"

"I mean, some of it, yeah. The parts where I know you won't be nearby or easily reached."

Steve knew it was ridiculous, but how the hell could he make sure he was safe if he didn't even know what Eddie was doing?

Eddie looked like he wanted to say something else about it, but must have changed his mind. He pulled out the chair next to Steve, turned it towards him, and sat down.

"So you've been studying this stuff for..." Eddie leaned in, eyebrows raised in silent question.

"I dunno. A few weeks. I didn't have most of the sheets until a couple days ago though," Steve gestured towards the papers spread out. "I still don't really get it."

"You've been studying for weeks? Stevie, why didn't you just ask me or any of the kids to help explain it?" Eddie almost sounded hurt. "I've been playing for half my life! And I've been a DM for half of that!"

Truthfully, Steve was trying to learn so he could have conversations with Eddie about the stuff he liked. That was basically lesson number one on how to get someone to like you, and Steve had already tried the music thing and failed.

He just wasn't that into the echo of loud guitars and angry drums.

He couldn't exactly ask Eddie to teach him everything and then turn around and try to use what he taught him to flirt with him. That was lame and embarrassing.

"Steve?" Eddie had his hand on Steve's leg, leaning in further towards Steve. He must've been trying to get Steve's attention while he was lost in thought. "I'm kidding. I mean, I wish you'd said something sooner, but if this is how you get into it, I'm not gonna stop you."

"I just wanted to surprise you."

Steve could hear how pitiful that sounded, could hear the whine in his voice that he wasn't able to pull his plan off. As if Eddie would even care! Eddie was the most easygoing, laidback, chaotic person he'd ever met. He would just be happy to have someone else in his little club.

"Surprise me? For what?"

He was also incredibly slow when it came to feelings.

"Because I want to spend more time with you! Because I like you! Because I want you to like me!" Steve tried not to sound frustrated, but his headache was turning into a real problem, and he was tired, and sick of hiding things. Robin told him to just be honest, so he was. "I wanted to surprise you the next time Hellfire was here and have all this knowledge, but it's hard! I don't even know how you keep up with most of this, let alone all the characters? There's like...at least 800 options for how to use weapons and spells. I can't even remember half the races or classes or whatever. I don't even know if those are the same thing. And I keep getting distracted thinking about how you look when you stand at the end of the table and do one of those stupid accents."

"Are they stupid if they're this distracting?" Eddie was smirking, suddenly more confident than Steve had maybe ever seen him.

"They are stupid. That's why it's distracting. And I'm stupid for letting it get to me!" Steve leaned forward, put his head on Eddie's shoulder. The angle wasn't the best, but he didn't care. "You get to me so bad, Munson."

"You're kinda easy to get to, Harrington." Eddie's lips briefly pressed against the side of Steve's head. "Been waiting for you to catch up."

"What do you mean?" Steve pulled away. "I've been trying to get you to realize for months!"

"You came to one show at the Hideout. I think Robin's been to more shows and she's a lesbian."

"She told you?!"

"Steve, she spilled every secret she's ever had when she kept me company in the hospital. I think I know things you don't even know."

Steve let his head fall down against Eddie's shoulder again. "I should've known you were teaming up."

"I wouldn't call it that. She just wanted to look out for us," Eddie's hand cupped the back of Steve's head. "So what did you learn?"

"Probably nothing useful."

"Well, it's easier to be an active learner. I could use an assistant on Thursday if you want some hands on experience," Eddie's fingers scratched at Steve's scalp, melting his brain and making him feel like he was completely weightless. "If you just wanna watch, that can be arranged too."

"You don't let people watch," Steve mumbled against his shoulder, his weight sagging against Eddie.

"I think I can bend my own rule for my boyfriend, right?" Steve could feel Eddie's heartbeat quickening beneath his ear.

His face felt warm as he realized what Eddie was implying. "Only if your boyfriend can sit next to you."

"I think that can be arranged."

"Oh, and I'd like to trap Dustin's character."

Eddie snorted, kissed Steve's head again. "That can be arranged, too."

[everparanoid]

how genshin men hug you

various genshin men x gn! reader

characters: Alhaitham, Diluc, Itto, Neuvillette, Wriothesley

Alhaitham isn’t one for hugs, but he’s not against you snuggling into him as he reads, seated between his legs. You might have to ask him several times for a hug, and more often than not, you’ll be met with a ‘no’. However, on those rare occasions when he’s feeling tired and lazy, he might just pull you into a hug as he lounges around. If you try to talk while he’s resting his head on yours, he’ll shush you, not wanting his break to be disturbed. So, with Alhaitham, it’s less about the hugs and more about quiet, shared moments.

Diluc is a man of few words, but his hugs speak volumes. He may be reserved, even in private, but he won’t hesitate to give you a hug if you ask. He might not initiate them often, but he does enjoy these moments of closeness with you. His hugs are warm and comforting, making you feel safe and cherished. They might not last long, but they’re always memorable. If you were to hug him when he returns from defending Mondstadt in the middle of the night, he would welcome you into his side. He’d wrap an arm around you gently, allowing you to listen to his steady heartbeat, a reassuring reminder that he’s returned safely.

Itto is a true enthusiast when it comes to hugs. He’s the kind of person who will envelop you in a warm, enthusiastic embrace, regardless of where you are. Public or private, it doesn’t matter to him. His hugs are playful and full of energy. He’ll lift you off the ground, spinning you around in a whirl of joy. Especially after a rare victory in a Beetle Brawl, you can expect a celebratory hug from him. His hugs are innocent and endearing, often accompanied by a wide grin and exuberant cheers of happiness. It’s clear that Itto enjoys these moments of shared joy just as much as you do. His hugs are not just an expression of affection, but a testament to his vibrant and joyful spirit.

Neuvillette is a man who is reserved and formal, and he’s not familiar with the concept of a hug, even though he’s seen them during his time in Fontaine. The first time you hug him, it might be a bit awkward until he gets used to the close contact. Every time Neuvillette hugs you, it’s gentle and cautious, as if he’s still trying to figure out the correct way to do it. He doesn’t often ask for hugs, but when it starts to rain, that’s your sign that he could use one. His hugs can be unusually long because he doesn’t understand the socially acceptable duration for a hug, and you don’t want to correct him. Alternatively, they can be short but meaningful. If he’s feeling down, he might hold on a bit longer, and of course, you’re perfectly fine with that.

Wriothesley is a man who cherishes private moments of closeness. He’s the type to give you a full-body hug, much like the comforting embrace of a teddy bear. If he happens to retire to bed before you, he might fall asleep on top of you, his arms wrapped around your waist. More often than not, you’ll already be asleep when he comes to bed. In these instances, he’ll spoon you into his arms, providing a sense of security and warmth. While he may not be one for overt public displays of affection, when it’s just the two of you, he’s all about the hugs. You might often find yourself sitting in his lap as he reads the newspaper, one arm casually draped over your stomach, his head resting on your shoulder. It seems that Wriothesley has a particular fondness for your body heat, especially in the chilly depths of Meropide.

masterlist

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[22ayla19]

Jiyan x Pregnant! reader PART I

As the wife of a general, you rarely saw your husband at home, but even so, in those rare moments when you spend time together, you try to enjoy so as not to forget them. After all, no one knows whether tomorrow or the day after tomorrow your husband will be alive.

Once again you accompany your husband to the gate and sadly look back at his departing figure. The next time you see him, you're not sure. Maybe in a month, maybe in two or three. No matter how many months pass, you will still be waiting for Jiyan.

However, a week after your husband left, you began to feel sick in the morning. Without being stupid and remembering that about a week ago you had sex with Jiyan, this could mean that you are pregnant. Of course, you bought a pregnancy test and checked your guesses, which in the end turned out to be correct.

Not knowing what to do in such a situation, you went to the hospital where your mother-in-law works. She, as a doctor and as a woman who has gone through pregnancy, will be able to tell you what to do, because in the early stages there is a possibility of miscarriage, and given your position as the wife of a general, who often puts her life on the line on the battlefield, there may be a high probability of miscarriage. How are you worried about him?

- Hello, mom. How are you doing? - you asked after knocking in your mother-in-law’s office. You didn’t even call her mother-in-law or her name, because she became a real mother to you. You grew up without a mother who died during childbirth. She was in the care of her father. You didn’t complain about life, because others could have had it worse, but your father didn’t stay with you for long, he died a couple of years ago. And when you first met Jiyan’s mother, you cried because of how much you missed your mother. The woman warmed to you and accepted you as her daughter.

- (Y/N), dear! Come in, come in! I haven’t seen you like that for a long time,- the woman hugged you, to which you happily responded.

- Sorry for not visiting, it’s work,- you answered the woman guiltily.

- Don’t worry, you have your own life, that’s why it’s understandable that you’re busy, sit down.

After chatting a bit about Jiyan's return and the latest news, you gathered your strength to share the good news.

- Mom, I really came to you with good news, - rummaging in your bag, you pulled out a pregnancy test and handed it to your mother-in-law. At first the woman did not understand why you wanted to please her. Taking the pregnancy test into her own hands, the woman’s smile became even wider.

- Will I become a grandmother? - the mother-in-law asked, not believing the test.

- You will become a grandmother, - you answered calmly, but just as happily.

- My congratulations, dear! How happy I am for you! Does Jiyan even know?

- No, I just found out that I’m pregnant a couple of days ago, and he’s been gone for almost two weeks, - you explained. You were already about to say something, like advice for pregnant women, when your father-in-law came into the office.

- Why are you happy here without me? Did something good happen? - asked the man.

- Rejoice, old brat. You will become a grandfather! - the wife shouted joyfully.

- Come on! (Y/N), dear, are you really pregnant? - The man asked you, not believing his wife’s words.

- Yes, father. I am pregnant.

The man smiled with all his teeth and joyfully said that now his colleagues would envy him that he became a grandfather before them. We laughed a lot at the man’s words, but the uncertainty immediately disappeared when we saw their loving glances.

Over the next months, while Jiyan was away, his parents helped you in any way they could. The main thing was that they supported you morally, because you were still worried about your husband. Another point where they helped you was with a medical examination, you underwent it on their advice once or twice a month. You decided not to find out the sex of the child ahead of time, let it be a surprise for everyone, no matter who it is, a boy or a girl.

Soon it was announced that the general would return, which means he will soon find out that he will become a father. The belly has already become more noticeable, although this is not surprising considering that I am already 4 months pregnant.

It was evening outside, you were in the living room with your mother-in-law and were talking about different topics. She often came and helped around the house more than once, saying: “You’re in a position, so it’s better to rest and walk more. I’ll cook you delicious, but healthy food at the same time.”

While you were chatting, the front door opened.

- I’ll go check who’s there, - said the future grandmother.

You remained in the living room, sitting on the sofa. Expecting to hear at least some voices, but somehow everything was suspiciously quiet.

Meanwhile, in the corridor, the woman met her son, who had returned from the border zone. Jiyan wanted to ask what his mother was doing in his house, but she told him to remain silent and quietly, so that you wouldn’t hear, told him to go to the living room, where you had prepared a surprise for him.

Jiyan was confused, what have you prepared that even his mother is participating in your idea? Quietly entering the living room, he greeted you, thereby frightening you.

- I’m sorry, dear, that I scared you, - the general said guiltily.

- It’s okay, I’m glad you returned safe and sound,- you replied. Jiyan didn’t immediately realize that you were pregnant, because you covered your stomach with a blanket.

- Mom, she said that you had prepared a surprise for me. Curious to know what it is?

- Well, the surprise itself is not ready yet. It will be ready only after another 5 months, - you answered your husband with a mischievous smile.

- That is?

You didn’t leave your husband thinking for long and took off the blanket. Jiyan's eyes widened in surprise. He remembered leaving and leaving you for a couple of months, but he didn’t know you were pregnant.

-Are you pregnant? - A lot of emotions were reflected on the general’s face. And joy, and fear, and surprise. He did not expect that he would soon become a father, he was very happy to realize this, but with this comes fear. Fear of losing you and your unborn child.

- Yes darling. I am pregnant.

These words echoed in his mind. He cried, cried with happiness.

- Darling, you can’t imagine how happy I am. You made me the happiest person in the world, - hugging you and also crying, he thanked you for such wonderful news.

Maybe someday he will have to die on the battlefield, but until then, he will fight. To fight so that I can return home to Jinzhou and see you and your baby growing up every day.

[shalotttower]

A Natural Benefit

Title: A Natural Benefit

Fandom: Death Note

Characters: L Lawliet x Reader (female)

Summary: L wants to try something new, you want to be left alone. So an offer is on the table, it's a mutually beneficial arrangement after all.

Word count: 2100+

Notes: yandere!L, kidnapped Reader, dub-con kissing, manipulation, captivity, L and Reader were together at Wammy's House

"Would you indulge me?"

Your eyes dart up from the page to his face. L looks at you like he always does ─ an intent yet oddly distant stare that used to make goosebumps appear on your arms. Nowadays you're somewhat re-accustomed to his mannerisms. He doesn't blink much, tends to stand behind your back whenever possible, likes to play with his food and enjoys invading your personal space far too much to be deemed socially acceptable.

His habits are strange but harmless.

"No," you say, just to be contrary.

L is fond of making things sound simple, and then — snap! — the trap is shut, and you find yourself doing a completely different activity than initially expected.

"I want to kiss you."

"N-" You blink and lower your book down, not bothering to mark it. "What?"

"Kissing is an act of physical intimacy between individuals," he says like it's an obvious fact and you're merely slow on the uptake. L's expression doesn't change, neutral despite this being anything but a normal conversation starter even by your standards ─ admittedly low.

"Thank you for enlightening me about the definition," you lean back against the cushions, "still no."

"Why not?" He asks after a momentary pause.

"Because I don't want to."

A simple answer to a weird request. You try to resume reading, but there're other things currently occupying your brain ─ namely the attempts to understand what prompted such inquiry.

L never asked for physical contact before; platonic or otherwise. Sure he tried to entice you into spending time with him through bargain and manipulation, and you pretended to be oblivious enough to earn an Oscar for your acting skills. However, there never was any talk of kissing involved. Any kind of touching, actually.

He hums. "Would you like me to explain my reasons?"

Sometimes you think that the sole cause of L's existence is just so he could annoy people for kicks. His questions are always peculiar, and you've learned that every single one of them is designed to lead towards some specific conclusion, preferably the one he wants. You have a feeling that if you say 'yes', L will proceed to list a hundred points about why kissing is good. And then another hundred why kissing him specifically is beneficial.

"No."

He looks at you. You look at him and raise the book higher.

"Indulging me would benefit both of us," L says, undeterred. "You're very curious by nature and I find it quite fascinating that you're able to deny your curiosity in this particular case."

Has a more obvious bait ever existed anywhere in human history? Probably not, and you'll bet your entire life savings on it too.

"I'm not curious," you lie, "now leave me alone. I want to read."

He leans forward. "You haven't focused on the book since I asked my question."

Smartass. You purse your lips and pretend that the characters are suddenly so interesting, that it's hard to look away from the intricacies of the plot unfolding inside this fictional world. At least things there make sense; no need to figure out the hidden meanings behind other people's words, because they are mostly transparent when there's a whole paragraph dedicated to the protagonist's feelings.

He reminds you of those spider-like creatures from documentaries ─ their actions seem random at first glance, yet upon further scrutiny prove to be anything but. Instead, they're meticulously crafted and executed to obtain maximum results.

L studies you for a little while longer, and eventually pads towards the kitchenette. The kettle whistles soon after as he makes himself tea; mint flavored, judging by the aroma wafting through the air.

______________________________________________________

You should have known that he won't give up ─ L is just as persistent as you are stubborn. If anything, you've set a challenge before him, and he tends to fixate on those until they are solved: a fact well-known and accepted among those who ever had a (dis)pleasure of interacting with him.

He doesn't outright ask you again, not the next day or the one after that. No. Accidentally, the only type of movies you're able to watch now are rom-coms or dramas with lots of kissing scenes sprinkled here and there between the banter bordering on cringe; sweet confessions spoken over candlelit dinners; passionate declarations whispered during sunsets... Clichés, amore, and kisses galore.

"I'm not sure this is the best movie for the evening," you say, as the screen flickers with images of two leads gazing into each other's eyes like they found the answers to every single question asked.

"The reviews are quite positive," L replies, munching on caramel popcorn.

"Reviews can be faked. And the trailer was misleading. I thought it was going to be an action movie."

"It is an action movie. The genres are listed right there," he points at the screen, and the words 'romance and action' stare back at you.

You frown and settle deeper into the couch cushions. It's uncomfortable ─ watching romantic scenes with L in the same room. His presence doesn't feel oppressive or demanding, yet you can't shake off the squirmy, twisty feeling. The kind when you enter an elevator with someone else and get slightly agitated for no reason. And so you try to slow down your breathing, but it only makes things worse. Your heart beats faster, palms start sweating and the hypothetical elevator stranger inevitably thinks that you're weird.

L isn't an elevator stranger. He's the owner of the elevator, and the entire building, and the city.

"He's going to die in the next ten minutes," you mutter.

"No, he won't."

"Yes, he will."

L hums. "Want a bet?"

Your eyes narrow.

"If he survives past the fifteen minute mark," L says slowly, "you indulge me."

"And if he doesn't?"

"I leave you alone for two days."

There's no hesitation on his side. None whatsoever, which proves suspicious immediately ─ L never offers something unless certain about the outcome beforehand, whether by logical deduction or calculated gamble. Probability factors run inside his brain instead of blood cells and grey matter, calculating risk vs return ratio quicker than any computer ever could.

You glance at the screen. It's a simple plot. There were a twist or two earlier, sure, but overall nothing extraordinary that would require hours upon hours of critical thinking to unravel.

A man, a woman. A handsome villain who wants them dead, for various reasons. They run and fight, shoot guns, dodge punches, and kiss between those because apparently there's time for romance even when a life is on the line.

It's a very simple plot; and two days are a lot to pretend that L doesn't exist. That you got rich enough to buy this kind of apartment.

"The speakers?"

"Switched off."

"The cameras?"

"Those will stay."

Of course, they will. You wouldn't expect anything less ─ privacy issues are non-existent here in more ways than one.

L isn't always a presence. Sometimes he leaves and you're alone with nothing but books and TV to pass time, but two days sound wonderful regardless. There's something in empty spaces that's enticing, even if they're temporary. L, for all his peculiarities, isn't too bad of a company. He's quiet, and often busy with his own matters. But he also has this way of looking at you that is unnerving. Like you're interesting. Or important. Or simply fascinating.

Sometimes he wants to talk, he wants to listen, he wants to ask questions and give answers until everything blurs into an amalgamation of words. It's exhausting.

Two days sound good. His hand is dry and slender. You grasp it and shake it once.

"I'll start the timer now," L says after your hands separate.

______________________________________________________

Twelve minutes.

Three more and he's dead.

You wish that he'd just kick the bucket already, so you could spend the next forty eight hours in pure, undiluted bliss.

_______________________________________________________

The male lead dies after seventeen minutes.

When the credits roll over, the apartment is silent except for the soft buzzing of electronics. You look at the screen, stubbornly, because you don't want to look at him, the owner of the elevator, and the building, and the city.

"It was close," he comments, as if trying to comfort you, which makes it even more of a sore spot.

That’s what L thrives on ─ technicalities, loopholes, small and seemingly insignificant details which are easily overlooked, yet make a great difference. You're not sure if you're annoyed, or disappointed. And what’s more important ─ at whom.

You have known for years that L tends to get his way eventually whenever there's something specific caught up in that head of his; a fixation which refuses to leave until satisfied, and sometimes even after. Snap. You can get up and head out of the living room, you know you can. Will you though is another question entirely.

L isn't a typical captor ─ he doesn't demand or force you into things. He simply presents a possibility and waits. Not aggressive or domineering, not sadistic. But oh he is a PhD of holding a grudge. Leaving now probably means waking up tomorrow and finding that every single disk has vanished without a trace, along with the bookshelves being switched for some obscure scientific texts on chemistry, physics and other things that require an advanced degree to fully understand.

Because someone decided that you don’t deserve entertainment anymore. Because someone is petty enough to deprive you of basic mental stimuli, and is stubborn enough to hold onto that decision even when reasoned with. Unsuccessfully.

It's a talent really, this particular brand of making your life miserable in many small ways, so they accumulate into something greater over time until you feel like the walls are closing in slowly but surely.

You can't back out, even though no one openly stops you from doing so. And L knows that. And he knows that you know. His lips twitch and curl upward before flattening again into neutral territory.

There's a theory that if you pull a band-aid fast enough, it won't hurt as much. The credibility behind it is questionable.

You exhale and meet L's gaze ─ his posture hasn't changed from the beginning to the end of the film, knees tucked to his chest, eyes two dark pools that stare without blinking. His fingers drum a steady rhythm, and that's probably the only sign that gives it away.

Anticipation.

"Fine," you say finally.

His mouth opens before closing back again. L doesn't move a bit.

He wants you to do it, you realize. Wants you to initiate instead of just allowing it. What an ass.

You squish his cheeks between your palms until his lips pucker outwards. L makes a soft noise of surprise but doesn't try to fight back.

Black lashes cast a shadow across his skin. There's no perfume or cologne, no distinct smell ─ he uses plain soap and shampoo which don't have a discernible aroma.

"I believe I was promised an indulgence," L says, voice muffled a bit by your hands on his face.

He looks like a fish this way. A silly, ridiculous image that would make you snort if not for the situation at hand.

Band-aids and ripping them off.

You sigh, lean forward, and press your mouth to his.

He tastes like caramel popcorn.

Mint tea.

Indulgence.

The angle is awkward, and L doesn't move an inch to accommodate the position. He stays still like a block of solid rock, not a single muscle twitches, and doesn't even attempt to reciprocate. You have half a mind to think that maybe he's mocking you, but then his fingers lightly curl on the fabric of his jeans. L's eyelids flutter half-closed when your noses bump, then open again right after. Another oddity added to the pile.

It lasts no longer than ten seconds before you pull away. L blinks. Touches his lower lip with the tip of a finger and rubs it like searching for traces left by the contact.

"You were promised an indulgence," you remind him, trying to sound calm, collected, but your ears and neck feel hot, "not a make-out session."

Technicalities and loopholes.

L has that look you can't quite pinpoint yet know far too well. You've seen it many times before. When he thinks about something but keeps it to himself for now.

"You look more lively," he remarks eventually. "Healthy complexion suits you."

You don't need to hear what he says next, because the words already ring through your head.

"I told you it would benefit us both."

[spngi]

My tears ricochet | mafia!carlos sainz jr x reader

Prologue | part 1

Part 2

summary: Mr. and Mrs. Sainz lived in a dream for many years, now everything is falling apart and they need to deal with their feelings

warnings: Grammar mistakes, mentions of violence, Carlos is an idiot, mentions of cheating

My blood boils; Carlos’s words repeat in an infinite loop in my head. My hands tremble with rage, and I press them on the table to try to contain the impulse to simply rip that smile off Carlos’s face.

“You wouldn’t do that “ my words come out slowly, trying to maintain the little patience I have left. “You can’t do this.”

“Or what? Are you going to threaten me now too, dear?” Carlos asks, his relaxed figure at the table and his tone full of irony.

I stand up from the table, and the chair scrapes loudly as it moves away. I look through the glass door at the inevitable: that woman in my house, lying on one of the loungers, wearing a bikini, as if she already belonged to this house.

I feel even more irritated, or perhaps sad. I feel invaded by all of this. I turn back to Carlos; I have the urge to throw all the objects in that room at him, to hurt him the same way he’s hurting me.

“She must be low enough to accept the role of mistress” I insult her in the end.

“She knows it won’t be for long” he replies.

“Well, I can agree with you… she won’t stay for long” I approach Carlos and lean in until I’m at eye level with him. “Pay attention to what I’m going to say, Carlos. I will always be your wife, I will be by your side whether you want it or not… this girl might be getting a bit of your attention now, but she will never be anything more than a fling because, at the end of the day, the only one who has the privilege of wearing this ring is still me.”

Carlos’s brown eyes watch me as I speak. He doesn’t bother to respond but seems irritated nonetheless.

“She will never be welcome in this house, Carlos… so spare her the humiliation and get her out of here as soon as possible!” I add, and before stepping away, I kiss the corner of his lips.

I don’t wait to see his reaction to the gesture; I quickly leave to distance myself from that situation before I lose control and throw that cheap model out of our house. I lock myself in one of the farthest rooms of the house and fight the strong urge to go back and throw the crystal candelabrum at Carlos’s head.

I sit on the floor at the foot of the guest bed, a pillow in hand to muffle my screams and the occasional sobs of crying. I couldn’t take it anymore; I couldn’t understand why Carlos was doing this to me.

Before the accident happened a few months ago, we were talking about starting a family, about filling this house with children. But after that day, everything changed.

I still have nightmares about how it all happened, how my car flipped several times on the road, the pain I felt, and the terror I experienced seeing all the armed men approaching me. Carlos managed to find me quickly enough so that no further harm was done; he stayed by my side throughout my recovery and tripled the security. But when I got better and asked him for revenge on those who escaped, he changed.

My fear had turned into anger, and I needed to know that those animals would never come back to hurt me, I needed to know that I had killed them with my own hands. But he never agreed with that; it led to many discussions and arguments. He never wanted to give in, even with his father’s words supporting me, Charles’s, Lando’s, and some other allied family heads. He promised he would do the job himself, that he would never leave any of them alive, but he didn’t understand that wasn’t what I needed. And when I went against his will, when I got what I wanted, everything began to fall apart.

The door opens in front of me, bringing me back to reality. I see Lando enter the room; it’s not the first time he has found me here. This room had become a hiding place for me, so I could hide during crises or just cry without being heard.

Lando walks into the room. I point to the dresser near him, and he smiles slightly. He opens the last drawer, already knowing where I hide my things. He pulls out a bottle of bourbon and a glass.

“I’m giving you a break today. Drink with me” I try to smile at him “and grab one of those cigars too, I need my complete pity party.”

“How are you?” he asks in the end, sitting next to me and spreading the items on the floor.

“Terrible” I pour the drinks. “Is she still out by the pool?”

“Yes. If it’s any consolation, Charles and I asked the staff not to take any orders from her.” Norris says, and the gesture makes me a bit happy to know that I can still count on him.

“Thank you, Lando, you’re a good friend. And Charles too, is he upset about what I did yesterday?”

“He understands, Y/N.” Lando offers me the lighter so I can light the cigar.

“You know what annoys me?” I ask him between puffs. “If the situation were reversed, the man who dared to step into this house would already be dead. Carlos wouldn’t think twice about doing it. And I could never live with myself knowing I did that, even though now I can think of a thousand ways to do it to her.”

“You’re a good person, Y/N. You know that, and Mr. Sainz knows it too… he’s just trying to challenge you or whatever his game is.”

“I don’t know if I still have the strength to play, Lando” I murmur to him, the alcohol in my mouth calming me.

“You know I’ll be here by your side, whether you want to continue or if you want to give up… you’re my friend, Y/N, I will always support you”

“Thank you, I hope I can repay all your support someday” I smile at him and pass the cigar to him.

“Does Mr. Sainz know you stole these from his collection?” Norris asks and takes a drag on the cigar.

“He can go fuck himself” I murmur and take a sip of the drink.

One more chapter! I hope you guys are enjoying it!

Leave your comments and opinions ❤️

[gabrielsbubblegumbitch]

this may be hard to answer because we don’t actually know the characters too well yet, but what do you think vox and val actually *love* about eachother? it seems like it’s more than just sex between them, and i’m curious to know what you think their relationship is like outside the toxic or sexual parts

Anon, to me it is not hard to answer at all, I think about it constantly 🩵❤️ of course all I write is based mostly on my headcanons and interpretations.

So... What Vox loves about Valentino? First and foremost, he makes him feel free. Vox is very self-conscious; he has a lot of internalized shame that he tries to cover with his grandiosity and fake smile. Valentino is unapologetically himself, and no matter how annoying it can be, Vox admires it. He's like the least judgmental person, and except for his temper tantrums, he's quite chill. Vox can't handle something? Val doesn't care; he still thinks his boyfriend is smart and will figure shit out eventually. Vox discovers he's into some weird, socially unacceptable kink? Great, they can try it. Vox rambles for hours about sharks? Good, he has a passion; Valentino likes people with passion, he will listen, he likes his voice anyway. Vox, who has spent his whole life crafting this perfect narrative about himself, cherishes the opportunity to feel comfortable enough with other people (a lot of these things apply also to his friendship with Velvette) to act like an absolute idiot around them.

Also, I think Valentino can be a really amazing boyfriend - he can be funny, charming, and mindful of the other person. That's his whole thing; he deals with desires, and that's why people get addicted to him so quickly. In most cases, it inevitably ends with him taking absolute control over the other person and becoming abusive. But Vox is his partner, so he gets just those nice bits because Valentino knows he wouldn't be able to put him down like he did with Angel. Not that he'd want to; he likes having a partner who's equal to him, whom he can break only if he allows him to do so (yes, my reading of them is very BDSM-ish, don't @ me). Valentino wants to be loved, he loves the idea of love, surrounds himself with hearts but at the same refuses to adjust to societal norms in the way that makes him unlovable; every person he ever loved (in his mind, his obsessive desire equals love) rejected him eventually after he revealed his true nature to them. But not Vox. Vox accepts him as broken as he is, and despite all his toxicity, Vox is reliable, he's the most stable part of Valentino's life. He has the patience to deal with his mood swings, he can always find the solution when Val messes something up, he's willing to accept all the attention Valentino wants to give him, and he supports his passions (ruining lives, making weird porn and abusing people).

Essentially, their love is largely about finally finding the other person who is as bad as you are, who accepts you no matter what and helps you grow (become an even worse person).

And some additional things:

Valentino really likes how smart Vox is. He himself is impulsive and acts instantly on his urges because violence is always an answer so he's kinda impressed when Vox presents him with some elaborate plots.

Vox loves Valentino's creativity, aesthetic, and attention to detail. He really likes nice things, but he lacks the ability to understand the nuance that is necessary for creating art.

They both enjoy each other's sense of humor.

Vox really likes that Valentino is kinda dumb? He can take care of him, and he likes taking care of people because it allows him to prove himself as The Best Boyfriend. He doesn't necessarily gets the idea of unconditional love, so the fact that he has an opportunity to earn it makes him feel more secure in their relationship. That's also why he loves spoling Valentino with gifts which is perfect because Valentino loves being spoiled.

Valentino likes being a little silly when he's with Vox. At work he can't manage people with his competence, so he does it with fear. But yelling and throwing people around is exhausting; he sometimes wants to bedazzle his gun while watching some trashy reality TV and bitching about his hard day at work. It's okay because Vox is also a little silly.

Valentino generally helps Vox live life more. He helped him come out of the closet (in my headcanon Vox for his whole life struggled with internalized biphobia); shows him that emotions other than anger are acceptable and don't mean weakness; even small things like always insisting on getting nice meals (while Vox could live his whole life on black coffee and rice) or decorating their apartment with fancy yet useless stuff.

They're both power-crazy maniacs, so the idea of being with someone who is widely desired by others and could destroy them if they wished is just so incredibly hot.

Vox | Valentino | What they hate about each other

If you liked these you should definitely check out my fic

[brucewaynehater101]

About Tim's kill count: I think Tim tries really hard to be okay with murder. He's accepted that's something other vigilantes do, that sometimes it's the most practical answer. He knows that self defense is a thing, when it's you or them... Well, no one can be blamed for choosing themselves over a villain. He is the smart, logical Robin. He can be rational about murder. Stars know someone has to, and B is too much of an emotional mess when it comes to that particular subject.

So when Tim has to blow up Ra's bases, he tries really hard to be okay with it. He gave them a three minute warning (it's not much, but he knows how fast they are), so technically it's not like it's his fault if they decided to stay. He had to do it, it wasn't even just self defense, he had a civilian hostage to take into account. It was the only logical solution that allowed him to save Batman too. So yeah, he knows his reasoning was completely sound despite the circumstances. Honestly, he deserves Kudos for not losing it considering the amount of stress he was under and the fact he nearly died and lost an organ.

So yeah, he is pretty sure he's okay with it. He knows that if Batman ever truly catches up un his RR reports of that time he's not gonna be happy. He figures he can deal with that (he can't, he can barely deal with his own guilt. Deep down he knows he'll collapse like a wet napkin).

But instead of Batman the one to confront him is Jason having heard from Talia or finding the evidence on an outlaws' mission. And Tim is relieved because this should be easy. Not only is he a master manipulator: Jason is okay with murder, extremely emotional and still feels guilty about Titan's Tower. He's not even on talking terms with B. Tim has the upper hand in this encounter.

Cue to Jason's pov and it's just so painfully obviously that Tim is trying to rationalize the guilt away. Jason doesn't know whether to acknowledge it (the kid looks like he needs to actually talk about it, sue him) or to let him be delusional for a bit longer. He isn't the biggest expert on healthy but that doesn't look like it.

Tim succeeds in getting him to promise he won't tattle to Bruce, and is really proud of himself for handling the situation. Jason is now panicking thinking about what would Bruce do if he finds out (Tim doesn't know the extent of Batman's reaction to Jason killing at first).

(I got a little carried away with the idea of Tim being convinces he's okay with murder and Jason, who is pro murder for certain people, seeing right through him like "Oh honey")

Oh!!! I've seen some fics that cover what would happen if the Bats found out about Tim's kill count or the bases, but I haven't really seen ones with dark/abusive Bruce.

Tw: abuse, murder

Here's what I'm thinking:

Jason is fantastic for being the first to find out. He'd be supportive, understanding, and non-judgemental. He'll have no moral issues with murder. Perhaps he could have some mental breakdowns on the fact his younger brother had to resort to that or the high number of deaths or that someone younger than him had to stain their hands (which could also lead into him finally processing Damian's kills as well), but he wouldn't have any issues with Tim commiting murder.

Then we contrast that with Dick. He doesn't blame Tim. He's fiercely protective of his brother and will beat up anyone who gives Tim shit for it. On the other hand, he does have moral issues with murder. He'd probably have an internal debate with himself. He wants to support Tim, but the kid killed so many people (in this AU). Tim killed in self-defense. Dick has a particular understanding due to his time as a cop, but his vigilante rules have always contrasted with his cop ones (not just killing. Breaking laws, how civilians are treated, who your "allies" are, and whether you can trust your coworkers to do what's right). He's devastated that Tim was in that position and blames himself (maybe even takes those deaths upon his own moral conscience).

Both of them love, care, and support Tim in this. They also have very different ideas about murder.

Tim is also trying very hard to deny to himself how much death is actually on his hands. He's struggling to pretend he's fine and trying to logically convince himself that the deaths are acceptable.

In this AU, Bruce obviously flips the fuck out and acts like a piece of shit. Feel free to hc how far he takes that shit.

However, this has important ramifications against Damian. Whatever his feelings are about Tim at this point, watching his father abuse a kid he adopted (and considers his own) for the sin of killing? For self-defense? What if Damian ever kills again? Would Bruce react the same? What if there was no other choice? Also, does this mean that his father will never truly love him? Will his past always be held over Damian's head? Will Bruce ever forgive him? Is his father's love conditional? To add on, Damian has complicated feelings about LoA as well. He'd need to process the extreme destruction Tim enacted against the LoA. Just Damian having mental breakdowns.

Cass's confliction with murder and her love for Tim could also be added into this. I don't know much about the arc where she becomes a villain, but that would add to her turmoil.

Now, Alfred is a confusing one. How dedicated is he to Bruce? Is this the characterization where he sasses the man, not so subtly hides his guns around the Manor, and will stand up to the man? Or is this the one who will follow Bruce's lead even if it means psychologically torturing his grandkid? Is he somehow both at the same time? Can the kids trust Alfred to protect them or choose them over Bruce?

Babs would be protecting Tim (and the others in their support of Tim) to the best of her ability. In my mind, she's chill about murder due to her dad being a cop and her working with murderers (like Harley). She'd run interference to protect Tim until Bruce finds out, and then she'd be trying to get him away from Bruce.

Anyways, I'd love to see all of the characters, their feelings/experiences, and the conflict expanded on.

[sickuma]

ORPHIC (2) — A Simon Riley fic.

❱ This is the last part of HIRAETH ! I don't want to drag it any longer than this. It's so much fun writing this and exploring more words to add to my vocab! Everyone's been nice (except when they give me their therapy bills) I love you guys srsly, You make writing so much more fun <3

I should have gotten this done HOURS ago, but I had to do stuff and just finished working out T-T but hey, writing block isn't killing me rn.

ꜝ？This fic may contain heavy topics such as death, depression and melt-downs, if any of those are not to your liking. Please do so exit the fic. Angst warning!

➴ SYNOPSIS — Ghost mourns of what's lost; reminiscing of the memories, apologizing, begging for you to hear his desperation for your presence as he sat Infront of your tombstone.

QUERENCIA — (n.) A place from which a one's strength is drawn, where one feels at home; the place where you are your most authentic self.

“Relationships in the military,”

He spoke, pausing to stare at your eyes. Searching for hesitance,

“They tend to be tragic.”

“But we’ll be together, no?”

“look , kid, it's not as easy as it sounds—”

“Do you feel the same way?”

You cut him off, not giving him the chance to speak. Catching ‘the’ simon ghost riley off guard, “Yes.” he breathes out.

“Then I don't see the problem, lieutenant, I love you, you love me. That's what barney said.”

He stares at the void, remembering yet again another memory he kept special in his heart. He wondered if you had not pursued him at that exact moment. Would he still feel the raw pain that plagued his heart now? Would it still hurt all the same?

If you hadn't stubbornly shown him how determined and real your love for him was, would he still be in this position, dreading every day that comes knowing the person he needs the most was taken from him.

throwing his gear onto the side. Making his way back to his quarters without giving anyone a second glance,

Ever since you've been gone, the base has been awfully tense. The rest understood his situation, trying their best to be there for him, all while attending to their own duties. The past few weeks had been the hardest, They could tell Ghost had been on edge.

He’d only speak to them if it's necessary, otherwise he’d be kept to himself. As if the past had repeated itself, there appeared a gap between his friends and him. He was mourning, and he plans to keep mourning,

If that means having you on his mind,

Then he’ll mourn forever.

“Ghost?”

Price’s eyes widened at the sight of Ghost, 

It’s the first month since you've passed away and the rest of the team planned to pay you a visit to show respect and also let you know how missed you are, not just by them, but also by Ghost who seemed to have shut his whole world out.

He saw how Ghost shown a tough facade when he would hear him call for her,

At night, when everyone slept, Ghost cried and wept for you to come back. Begging aimlessly for your return,

Begging endlessly to feel your arms around him again.

Price didn't expect him to be joining them. He hadn't been. The team visited your resting place a couple of times before, he’d invite him but he’ll make up reasons not to go. Price figured he still hasn't accepted that's where your body lays,

The ride to their destination felt almost eerie, the tension leading the hour long drive. Nobody dared to speak, not a single word.

Ghost’s mind resides elsewhere, watching the scenery they drove past. Chest heaving up and down as he struggles to fathom that he’d finally visit you, 

No—he was more occupied with thinking about how it’s only been a month.

It felt longer than that. It felt longer than his training days. He felt more exhausted, more agitated, and more angry. He resents every breathing thing he comes across to,

He knew it sounded cruel, but why do they deserve to live and you don't? You have been the kindest, and yet you were taken first. He couldn't understand,

As a soldier he’d lost multiple comrades, having to face funerals—visit the cemetery, and deal with death itself. Though yours felt unreal,

It felt as if his bones were crushed. He knew how pathetic it seemed, clinging onto someone who's never coming back, but he'd rather cling onto the past if it means having to hold you close to his heart forever, where you belonged.

、 

Everyone got out of the car,

Everyone but him.

Price sighed, not planning to pry. If his breath felt shallow just by being here, he could only imagine what Ghost felt at this moment, considering it was his first time to ever be here.

A few minutes passed, and the three sat quietly at first until soap had cracked a dad joke, lifting the atmosphere just a little bit. They spoke as if you were there, sitting with them, price would constantly glace at Ghost, who sat quietly in the car. He wondered what ran through his mind.

“We should give him his own time to talk to [name].” Price groaned as he stretched when he stood up, the two following closely behind him. “He needs this.”

Ghosts' eyes caught them approaching. He felt his stomach sink. He knew he planned to wait until they finished before he took his turn as he expected himself to break down and shed tears. He didn't want them to see that. And yet he still felt his heart beat faster when they came back,

Price threw him a small smile, a smile of empathy.

As if that's his cue, he jumped out of the car. Taking slow strides towards ‘your’ direction. He never thought he could ever despise a cemetery so much in his life,

The only thing he could think of was the way you laid down there, away from his grasp.

No matter how slow he walks, he soon finds himself in front of ‘you’, oh well—a stone that only proved to him that you're gone. “Have you been waiting?”

He couldn't believe it,

He was talking to a mere stone.

But he’ll take what he can get.

“Wake up.” he stared down with an expressionless face, “enough laziness, [name]. Get up from there.”

“You can have all of the shirts you want from me, you can pluck my eyebrows, do it, you can get a puppy. Anything you want just— just wake up.”

His voice betrayed him the more he spoke, 

The longer he looked at the stone, the way he kept reading the credentials written on it, the more it felt real. Every passing second is just another evidence of your disappearance,

“You always call me mean,”

He swallowed,

“Yet you're the one who left first.” his cold gaze softened, the more he looked at the ground. Under the ground where your body laid.

Where the body of his lover slept eternally.

“How do I find you now? Now that I'm stuck here?”

He recollects his promise, the promise to reunite in your next life. It all pierced through him. He’s a soldier, yet he finds himself worrying about the most ridiculous thing. What if you'd reincarnate before he passed?

What if you leave him behind again,

What if this time you find someone else to love?

What will he be then?

“Remember when you'd go on tangents about how fascinating reincarnation and universes are? I believe you now, okay? So— so wait for me.”

He sat down, quietly enjoying the breeze. He couldn't deny the pain of the piercing ache that developed in his chest. It never really went away. He would simply distract himself.

“I find it hard to sleep again, love.”

“The bed feels colder without you in it. Do i sound cheesy? Do not make fun of me. I want to be honest. Maybe doing that would lessen the overbearing hurt in my chest. It’s just—it’s only been a month since youre gone and im already a fucking mess. I mean, look at me,”

He chuckled,

“I look rough, dont i?” he sighed, “would you still find my eyes pretty even when i tire them out by crying?”

He looked away, observing the serenity of the cemetery. He wondered how many souls wandered around, and if yours were one, and if you stood close to him.

“I feel—just terrible. When I woke up, I thought I'd finally lose it, well I did. I caused price trouble, you'd have scolded me. I really did it this time, pushing everyone away as if you'd come back to tell me off. That's not ever happening, and that's what hurts the most.” 

He spoke slowly, yet he felt out of breath.

“It feels suffocating—you know? To live without you.”

“I don't know why I woke up, I wished I didn't. Maybe then I'd be with you.”

“It’s scary, [name], so scary.” he whispered, the rasp of his voice sounding more evident. “I have no certainty if we’ll see each other again; and I need nothing more than to hold—to feel you again. To hear your voice, to take in your scent. If I have to give everything up for that, I will.”

“Anything just to have you back to me.”

He stared at the words engraved on the tomb,

“but if i have to wait decades or centuries—i will—without hesitance, without a blink, i will. For you, I'll keep being patient.”

“That's how worthy you are [name]. So wait for me please, no matter how long it takes for me to find you again, please wait.”

He spoke lowly, but certainly, no matter where you are, he hoped you'd recognize him, hoping you’d recognize his eyes you loved so much,

“Even if it means i'll have to die again and again, i’ll keep searching for you until we’re back home until i can hear your voice call my name again.”

“Wait for me, [name].”

Hoping you’d recognize your Simon.

、 

Somewhere along the memories,

、 

Somewhere along the universe,

、 

Somewhere along life and death,

、 

Somewhere along—

、 

“Simon.”

“Pardon?” he looked at you, puzzled expression written all over his face. “Whatd you just say?”

“My simon.”

We're home.

[dazaiandhislovelybandages]

does it have to be angst? i was gonna ask for married levi/reader with kids post war but 🥺🙏🏻 for angst maybe it could be about his injuries, with reader giving comfort?

Providing Comfort {Levi Ackerman}

A/n: thank you for requesting. Generally you can request whatever you want but I don't think I would actually write the request with him having kids. Anyways. I hope you like the comfort one.

Pairing: Levi Ackerman x gn!reader

Trigger warnings: mentions of injuries, self doubt, low confidence, mentions of not liking oneself, mentions of painkillers

You knew the first months after the war were going to be the most difficult ones. It wasn't just because of the fact that everyone would have to get used to the new world but also because of the trauma everything had left behind.

"Just give me another... one of those little damn things." Levi groaned and despite your attempts to help him lie back down on the bed, he sat back up.

"Aspirins?" You let out a sigh and sat next to him.

The most difficult part in reality was trying to help the most stubborn man you knew with getting accustomed to his new daily life. For better or for worse, Levi refused to follow or at least understand the orders the doctor had given him. On one hand, it was understandable; he was used to constantly moving, training, going on expeditions and fighting, there was no way he could accept laying in bed all day in order to heal his injuries. On the other... it saddened you. He was colder than he had ever been, barely talking to anyone and when he did, his words cut deeper than any knife.

"Whatever that is. Just give it to me."

He had started making progress though, you had to admit at least that. In the beginning he wouldn't even tell you when or where he was in pain. It was like a guess game, you would squeeze his knee and pray the pain was too much for him to try and hold back any groans or expressions.

Most of the times it worked.

Then he figured out that he could take aspirins whenever he was in pain and ever since then he refused to let them go. But the doctor's visit yesterday had left him with zero options than to stop taking them.

"The doctor said no, Levi."

"Couldn't care less."

And you couldn't do much about it either. Even batting heads with him felt strange since having been under his command for so long usually meant him giving the orders and not vice versa.

"Maybe doing the exercises the doctor told you would help with the pain... just saying." A small awkward pause followed, small enough to feel as if centuries had passed until Levi shook his head. It didn't need a lot of thinking to figure out why he refused.

The following days after the war ended, Levi and who knows how many others were in the hospital. Unlike some people and like others, Levi didn't get out of there unscathed. The only injury he had partly accepted was his missing fingers which was both because it occured before the war started and also because he proved to himself that he can still do everything just perfect without having all five fingers.

Neither you nor him understood how you came to live with each other but unbeknownst to you, it was more of a comfort than a nuissance to him. However, he still had his... issues. The last thing he wanted was an old member of his team to see him at his worst. Not even Erwin had achieved something like that.

"I can help. I promise it will only help with the pain."

As much as he hated it, it wasn't as if he had much of a choice.

"All you had to do was ask."

Helping him with his exercises didn't take more than half an hour. Levi was a perfectionist and you knew it. He wasn't doing it to get the pain to go away but to prove to himself that he was in charge of his body. All of his life consisted of constantly proving something to himself.

"Are you planning on nagging me about it?" He reached out for the hot cup of tea you had prepared for him with a sigh.

"Maybe." You replied with a smile.

He had made much more of a progress than you had imagined. Not once had you imagined you'd see him finally relax his shoulders and lean back on the couch comfortably, holding his cup of tea in his peculiar way.

"Go on then."

It would take much more time to completely open up to you, let you provide him with proper comfort but for now and for the past few weeks, he was fine with you talking his ear out. It kept him mind off the pain and in one way or another it felt more comforting than the warm cup of tea he was holding.

[theonceandfuturequeenoftarts]

It’s become their tradition: when Hogwarts empties of most students for the Christmas break, Harry and Tom spend the quiet, sleepy days of the winter holiday together.

Initially, it was out of lonely, unwanted orphan camaraderie. They had nowhere else to go, no one who wanted to see them – but that was frankly fine by both of them. Tom would rather never see the inside of Wool’s again, and Harry had long given up on figuring out how to make the Dursleys love him. They had both found their first real home at Hogwarts. So, while the buzzing energy of the holidays and discussions of their peers reminded them of the things they did not have, those wounds had scarred over enough by that point that it was more of a dull ache than a sharp, bleeding pain. 

From sharing silent moments as they read or ate together to discovering they had more in common than simply their circumstances, their wary friendship grew over the course of that first holiday break at Hogwarts. When the other students returned, there was a bit of awkwardness of finding how this new connection fit into their respective social landscapes – Tom has never been all that fond of Granger or Weasley, and Harry thinks the social politics of Slytherin are ridiculous, not to mention the typical Gryffindor-Slytherin hostility. 

They weren’t the type of friends to spend every moment together, constantly at each other’s elbow, but they found a way that worked for them. Partnering up in class, sitting quietly at the same table in the library, meeting up for a pre-curfew snack in the kitchens – and spending each winter break in each other’s company, even if they both received invitations to spend the holiday elsewhere. Christmas at Hogwarts was their time.

And so it is that they’re sitting on the windowsill in a seventh-floor corridor, staring out at the freshly fallen snow, glittering under the light of a waxing gibbous moon, when Harry breaks the silence. 

“D’you want to come to bed with me?”

The question causes Tom to still. 

“There’s no one else who stayed behind, as usual, so the dorm is empty,” Harry continues on, oblivious. “Don’t have to worry about anyone being weird about your being there.”

Tom had felt it, how things were changing between them. How, this year, their shared glances had a different energy. Like everything was building to something. And he knew that they’d be able to spend long, uninterrupted days together over the holidays, without their respective groups to give them grief about spending time with someone from the enemy House.

He’d known there was a chance this was where that change might lead them. He just hadn’t wanted to accept it.

But Tom has a reputation, and certainly Harry knows it. So of course Harry would expect that from him – expect Tom to want it – if Tom has done that with other people.

And Harry is the only person Tom has ever wanted to keep. Harry understands him in ways no one else has ever bothered to try. (He had hoped Harry would understand this implicitly, but that was perhaps too much to ask.) There is little he wouldn’t do to tie Harry to him, to ensure Harry never leaves – never wants to leave, never even considers it. If this is the cost, he can bear it.

In comparison to the other things he’s gained through his looks and his body, Harry is much more precious, infinitely more dear. Power at the whims of another is what he can barter for now, but it won’t always be that way. Soon, he will hold his own power, an endless amount of it, and he will make others regret treating him as lesser than.

Giving this to Harry– no. Doing this with Harry is nothing like his previous sexual experiences. It’s not a degradation.

(But it does appear to be a necessity.)

His mind has been running as they walk back to the empty Gryffindor sixth year boys’ dorm together. He sees the coy, nervous smile Harry gives him over his shoulder as they reach the dorm door; he returns it with a confident one that he doesn’t quite feel.

“Are you okay?” Harry asks as he leads Tom through the door, closing and locking it behind them.

Perhaps his lacking bravado is more apparent than he’d hoped. Before Tom can decide whether or not to push Harry against the closed door and kiss him, the other boy is walking over to the bed Tom knows is Harry’s and pulling the curtains open.

As he climbs onto the bed, Harry begins shucking his clothes in a flurry. He’s now down to his shorts and a long-sleeve shirt, staring up at Tom curiously. “Planning to wear all that?” Harry asks. 

This isn’t how he usually does things. His rhythm’s all thrown off, though he should’ve expected Harry would act differently than his other partners. So Tom removes his shoes, socks, trousers, and jumper as quickly as he can without appearing to rush. Harry doesn’t seem to want a show, thankfully. Tom’s not sure whether he could manage much in the way of seduction at the moment.

Tom gets on the bed and sits next to Harry, who’s reclining against a pillow tilted up against the headboard.

And now that he’s here, he’s freezing up. He can’t afford to ruin this, he can’t lose Harry. So he pushes through his hesitation and leans down to capture Harry’s lips in a kiss that has melted the minds (and inhibitions) of several other students. He’s putting his all into this, trying to focus on the fact that this is Harry, he wants Harry, this is okay. He never has to persuade himself with the others, it’s so unfair he has to work so hard to do this for Harry.

“–Tom?” Harry asks a bit breathlessly as he pulls his mouth away with a soft ‘pop.’ “What are you doing?”

Fuck, fuck, this is not happening. “I thought it was rather obvious,” he husks, trying to sound as seductive and interested as possible.

“Not the– I know you were kissing me, you berk.” Harry huffs a laugh. “I was asking why you were kissing me.”

Oh. Oh, this is all going wrong in a different way, and in addition to that he’s confused, and he hates being confused. “Typically people enjoy a bit of foreplay before they have sex,” he says, and he can’t entirely keep his defensive anger from leaking into his tone.

“Sex?!” Harry yelps, then covers his mouth with his hands despite them being the only people in the dorm. He whisper-shouts, “Sex? Who said anything about sex?”

Tom’s brow furrows in irritation. “You asked me to come to bed–”

“To sleep!” Harry barely keeps from shouting once again. “Just to sleep.”

He blinks. “Sleep,” he repeats, feeling wrong-footed.

“Uh, yeah, though now that I think about it, I guess I can see where you misunderstood…”

“You ‘guess’?” Tom hisses, incensed. “I misunderstood? Harry, that’s what people say when they intend to have sex!”

“Well, how was I supposed to know? You never seemed interested in that sort of thing, I didn’t think I had to specify–”

Tom wonders, not for the first time, how someone can be both so observant and painfully oblivious.

“Harry,” he says, a little frustrated with how this entire evening has gone. “You do realise I’ve had sex before, yes?”

“Uh, yeah, I have eyes.” As if to demonstrate this, he rolls them hard enough that Tom can barely see their bright green irises.

Cheeky little shit. “Then, why–”

“I’m not completely daft, Tom. I’ve seen how you look at the people you’ve slept with,” Harry says, sounding almost offended. “It’s the same way Ron looks at chess pieces – like they serve a particular purpose and you're thinking of the best way to move them around to get what you want.” 

That was concerningly accurate. He’d never thought of Harry as unintelligent, but perhaps he’d underestimated how sharp he could be.

“When you look at me, it's different. At least, that’s what I think.”

Tom huffs. “I should never have doubted you, darling.”

“That’s right, you shouldn’t,” Harry says. “So don’t doubt me now. Tell me: what do you want?”

“I– it’s not as simple as that,” he insists, because it isn’t. Harry doesn’t understand, and it rankles, because why is this where his understanding fails?

“I never thought I’d see the day I have to demand to know what you want,” Harry says, a bit amused and a little disbelieving. 

Because it’s you, he thinks. It matters – I’m trying to compromise – because it’s you.

“Come on, Tom, just tell me,” Harry wheedles.

Here goes nothing. He’s already holding his breath when he says, hoarsely, “I don’t want to have sex.”

“With me?” Harry asks evenly, unreadably.

“With anyone,” he clarifies.

Harry’s eyes almost glow in anger as he leans up on his elbow, and Tom slips his wand into his hand just in case. “Have people been forcing you–” 

“No, no, nothing like that. As if they could,” Tom says, releasing some of the tension in his body, amused by Harry’s willingness to play knight in shining armour for him. “Sex is a tool to use when it’s the most expedient way to get what I want. It’s not something to which I attach emotions or any real pleasure, nor is it something I want to have purely for the sake of it.”

He’s known this for himself for quite some time, but this is the first time he’s said it aloud for someone else. Someone whose opinion matters. He finds himself wincing a bit at the clinical tone, even though it is accurate to how he feels. Harry is a creature of emotion far more than Tom is, and he doesn’t always agree with Tom’s way of seeing things.

“Oh,” Harry says. “Okay.”

Tom watches Harry warily. He doesn’t sound upset, but… “Okay…?”

“Yeah, that’s fine by me,” Harry says easily. “If you don’t want to have sex, we won’t have sex.”

That is far too calm a reaction, unless Harry likes him less than he’d previously thought. “Not just tonight – I don’t want to have sex ever, probably.”

“Yeah, I got that,” Harry says with a grin. “S’fine.”

“But. This,” Tom says quietly, indicating the bed between them. “This can’t be enough for you.”

Harry sets his jaw mulishly. “I can decide for myself what’s enough for me and what I want. And I’m trusting you to do the same. So don’t ever force yourself to do something because you think I want it,” he adds, voice tapering off towards the end into something a little desperate-sounding. “I want you, Tom. Not whatever you think I should want.”

Tom swallows hard. “What if you change your mind?”

“What if I don't?” Harry says pointedly, before exhaling loudly and adding, “Sorry, I don't mean to be dismissive. If this was the first time I was finding out you didn’t want to have sex with me, yeah, I’d probably be pretty torn up,” he allows with a shrug. “But I’ve had time to think about it, and what I want, and I decided a while back that I wouldn’t mind never having sex, if it meant I could be with you.” 

Tom stares. He can’t help it. He can hardly tell which way is up anymore.

“But that’s enough about that.” Harry asks, again, “What do you want?”

After a moment, Tom says, hushed, “I want to sleep in this bed with you.” Honesty is easier when spoken softly in the dark. He braces himself for mockery, for disappointment, because, no matter what he says, surely Harry expects more than this. Tom has a reputation, after all.

But Harry only asks, voice warm, “Anything else?”

“I…” This leaves him feeling a little too vulnerable, but he pushes through. “I want to hold your hand.”

After a moment, Harry rests his hand on the bed halfway between them and wiggles his fingers. Slowly, Tom reaches out and rests the palm of his hand against the palm of Harry’s, carefully intertwining their fingers. Harry hums contentedly and squeezes their joined fingers gently. 

When Tom looks back at Harry’s face, he is smiling with a light flush of colour in his cheeks. “Good?” he asks.

Tom tries to say ‘yes’ but it feels like there’s something blocking his throat, so he nods instead.

Harry nods once in return before he takes off his glasses awkwardly with his left hand and sets them on the headboard shelf. He looks over, eyes just a bit out of focus, and says, “G’night, Tom.”

Tom squeezes Harry’s hand a good deal harder, prompting Harry to tighten his hold in turn. “Good night, Harry.” If his voice shakes a little, Harry doesn’t mention it.

[thefirstlioveyou]

How Smalltown Boy Connects with Mike's Relationship with his Parents

I can't get over how they chose Smalltown Boy for the FIRST track on Mike's playlist. I just can't. That's the gayest thing ever. Gayer than his staring I fear. The lyrics perfectly fit him, but not only because he's a closeted homosexual. It's also highlighting his dynamic with his family.

Of course, if we are getting into specifics, Smalltown Boy is a song about a young gay man running away from his homophobic home and town to live in the city to somewhere he can be himself. But generally, it's a song about not belonging and not feeling understood within a place, and the crippling loneliness that comes with it. So you seek a place where you can feel accepted and heard.

Struggling to figure out your place in the world, struggling with your sexuality and relationships, facing severe bullying, wanting to be understood and seen by your family for who you actually are while still struggling to accept who you are to begin with, desiring the escape from the place that brings you all those unmanageable problems -- That's Mike Wheeler.

"Mother will never understand why you had to leave, but the answers you seek will never be found at home. The love that you need will never be found at home"

Obviously, the actual plot of the music video features homophobic parents. I don't believe Karen is, and I see Ted as more brainwashed yet careless. But "the love that you need will never be found at home" reminds me of the Wheeler family's emotional distance and lack of actual attention, and how it's damaging Mike especially. Nancy's already seen right through the bullshit. Mike hasn't.

I don't see them as the worst parents on the planet, but they're haven't been great. They have questionable parenting choices and the show wants us to pick up on that. If you haven't yet asked yourself "where the hell are his parents?" at least ONCE while watching ST, then idk lmao.

Come on. Not knowing your son has been hiding a whole child in your basement for a week?

Never talking to your son about his best friend's death and instead letting him take the responsibility to go to you first?

Not taking concern as to why your son is suddenly misbehaving at school? And instead, you force your child to get rid of 2 boxes worth of toys that hold emotional value to him (while mocking him for having said emotional connection)?

Not even being aware that your child is constantly bullied physically and verbally, and not even questioning visible marks that could indicate that sort of abuse?

Although it's unintentional and we see Karen aware that it's wrong, you're still essentially teaching your child that 1) their feelings or voice do not matter 2) they cannot trust or rely on you 3) their 'childish' interests that make them who they are do not matter and are something they need move on from because they "have to."

And we see this play out.

If his parents can't even accept his innocent interests or show more consideration for them, if it just makes him a future high school dropout or a failure, what makes Mike believe they'd ever accept he's Gay?

Mike NEEDS a support system. He NEEDS parents who care MORE instead of waiting until government is at their doorstep. That type of love has not been consistent whatsoever at the Wheelers. To Mike, that kind of love cannot be found in his home. The answers to his problems cannot be found in his home. In fact, his upbringing is a big reason why he's in this complicated relationship with El to begin with. and he's accepted all that to be fine, despite us seeing how it's turning him into someone unable to manage their emotions who struggles with their relationships communication-wise.

"And as hard as they would try they'd hurt to make you cry. But you never cried to them, just to your soul. No, you never cried to them, just to your soul"

This refers to the severe bullying he faces that Mike confirms he's put up with all his life (just for it to be shut down immediately). His parents aren't aware. If Karen, his own mother, doesn't question a giant scab on his chin but some girl who is barely learning what friends are does, don't you think that says something?

"I'm here for you" doesn't mean anything if you aren't actively trying to actually be there. you have to look harder. look at what's right in front of you.

Sure, his mom hugs him! But I really hope we can all agree physical affection isn't the only thing that a child needs to trust. There is reason behind why we've never actually seen them talk about anything that's actually bothering him. Mike is not yet convinced he can go to his parents about the things we know he's facing, and the things that are implied that he's facing. Instead he handles it alone as a result of just "letting him come when he's ready."

The only adult who wasn't afraid to actually talk to him and not let his emotions bottle up was...

"Pushed around and kicked around, always a lonely boy. You were the one that they'd talk about around town as they put you down."

Part of this could be about his bullying experience in general, but I also believe this was foreshadowing for events in S5. Mike and the rest of hellfire are now targets and deemed part of a satanic cult. The whole town are against them and want them gone. Going from to feeling insecure for your 'childish' interests because of your parents, to becoming accepting of that part again, to now wanting to be killed for it by your town. Ain't that nice? Won't that gonna do wonders for this boy? :)

I actually predict they will take some inspiration next season from the hate crime scene in the music video. Perhaps The Hellfire Club/The Core Four/Mike will be attacked and Mike will be brought home/come home beaten.

In the actual music video, the boy's parents find out he's gay from that and they do not accept it.

However, in the show, I think it'll be focused on him being in Hellfire (since DND is a metaphor for gay love between Mike and Will). I imagine it'll be like, "Michael, why are you still associating with them? You know what would happen!" They'd get mad at him for essentially "walking right into it himself." This sets off conflict in the Wheeler Family this season. Mike finally snaps at them, telling them it was bound to happen anyway. He mentions the bullying he's already delt with his whole life. He sees his parents' sudden care in his life as BS and how it had to take the entire town to hate him for them to finally see him.

Another scene they could parallel within this one scene (or in another) could be Jack McPhee's coming out scene from Dawson's Creek, a show the Duffers loved growing up. We often see parallels to that show when it comes to the show's drama, primarily with the El-Mike-Will Love triangle to the Joey-Dawson-Jen Triangle. Mike is also heavily paralleled to Jack McPhee.

In the coming out scene, Jack tells his emotionally neglectful father (who is definitely worse than Ted) - "I was different. And as hard as you've tried to stamp it out and ignore it, I have tried harder than you to be quiet and to forget it and to not bother my family with my problem."

If this doesn't sum up what's going on then idk what does.

It's not that his parents hate him for what they know about him, but they also aren't supportive either. They ignore him. They ignore everything outside of their own little bubble. They close themselves from the truth of what's going on in the town. They close themselves from their kids. They push them to hide and stay quiet, but that's just not who Mike and Nancy are.

We also know we're into some Wheeler drama this season considering all the leaks with Karen/Holly(?)/Henry and the interview with Joe Chrest (Ted's Actor). So scenes like this aren't far off the table.

Mike is a character that is struggling overall with his place in the world and identity. He is struggling with his self worth, his sexual orientation, his relationships, accepting the interests that make him who he is. He is conforming to societal pressures (much similar to his parents) because he doesn't know where else to go. He is confused. He struggles with self-worth and severe insecurity. He does not feel needed unless he is actively doing someone of service to the point of sacrificing his life, much like a superhero, hence his fixation of them. Superheroes are people who are wanted, who are heard and seen - Something Mike feels he isn't.

He's growing up in a small and conservative town, internalizing the homophobia he witnesses, internalizing what he HAS to be and has to feel - He has to want girls (and yeah, believe it or not, homophobia still impacts queer people regardless who it's directed to. there's reason why we see mike's reaction over anyone else's). But he just can't, yet he still tries because otherwise that'd be falling off a "normal path." He has to get rid of his toys and grow up to keep on a "normal path." He has to conform because he fears what would happen if you don't. That's something he's unfamiliar with.

Mike needs to be finally seen by his family. His overall major struggle with conformity stems from there. It's what he needs emotionally, but it also makes sense narratively. It has to be from them. His whole arc along with them is to break free from their conformity, and it starts with the facing their truths as a family.

Mike won't end up making the choice the boy has to in the music video. In the end, he will have his family's support and acceptance. He will be able to be true to who he is. He will accept himself. He won't need to runway in fear. I do still believe he will leave Hawkins (with Will). It just won't be on a bad note!!

[cheemscakecat]

Bucket Scene Analysis pt. 1

So I’m revisiting the Bucket Scene from Expiration Date, and I noticed some things. Spy’s feelings got really hurt, but the other Mercenaries didn’t mean to seriously upset him. Let’s go over their POV first.

Engineer and Medic are doing more experiments on the teleporter, so they aren’t present for the bucket scene. They’ll be trying to figure out a way to stop the tumors for the next three days instead of accepting the team’s deaths.

Soldier is too dumb to understand what’s going on, and Pyro presumably isn’t aware enough of his surroundings.

Demoman comes from a family with really disturbing traditions; they let him live as an orphan and only revealed themselves after he killed his adoptive family in an explosion… Because he was showing his skill. He’s actually expected to lose his sight entirely like his parents. Out of anybody there who knows what’s happening, he’s the most unbothered by them dying because of that twisted heritage.

Sniper calls his parents every week, and I’m sure he’s told them/about to tell them what’s happening. But he also has a plan to kill everyone he meets, so even if he is bothered by the fact that he’ll die, he’s not going to make the others privy.

Heavy has been responsible for his three sisters and his mother since he was a child. Around them, he’d be a bit more open and accept their hand on his shoulder.. But not Spy. Around co-workers, Heavy’d rather think on what’s happening and be left to those thoughts. Besides that, he already provided a secluded cabin in Siberia for his family to keep them safe, so if he dies at work he’ll be at peace knowing they’re ok.

I very much get the vibe that Spy never puts his hand on the others like this, and that’s why Heavy hit him with that Side-eye Claire face.

Now Scout? He’s an interesting case because he’s about to humiliate Spy with the fake cards, but in terms of them dying in three days:

“Ve have three days to live!”

It’s subtle, but he looks like he might cry. Not in front of them, but still. And that tracks, because he and Spy are the most sensitive members of the team. You can look at Spy’s reaction behind Medic, and it becomes more obvious.

But Jeremy wasn’t raised by Spy.

He was raised by his mother [who’s doing her best] and seven older brothers who are terrible role models. I have no doubt that his brothers were involved in petty street crime and gangs when they were younger, even if some came to their senses as adults. And gangs are not well known for emotional stability.

Scout grew up around seven guys that wanted to be “hard” and ignored their emotional needs/daddy issues… As the youngest and the most sensitive one. I imagine that crying and showing that something is getting to you was met with mockery. And being labeled a weakling. So Scout did his best to stop showing that “weakness��.

Now he’s graduated from the criminal fights his brothers used to get into, and joined a group of mercenaries. Since he looked up to his brothers and grew up imbedded in their worldview, he seeks approval from the other Mercenaries in the same way. That’s why he chooses to mock Spy instead of asking for the last wishes. It makes him look unbothered and he can call Spy the weak one instead of being cruelly labeled himself.

But RED team doesn’t operate like Scout’s siblings or a gang. They’re all individuals that specialize in a certain area of mercenary work, who could leave for a different team or independent work if they weren’t happy on the team. [Provided they don’t release any information that the Administrator wants hidden, or rebel against her.]

So when Scout pranks Spy, they aren’t seeing his as a weakling; it’s not even crossing their minds. They’re smiling because Scout seems happy despite impending doom. And why shouldn’t they be glad that he’s having a good time of it? Beats being dejected and since he’s the youngest, they’re more worried about his well-being.

What’s interesting is that Heavy seems to sense that Spy is upset, because his smile noticeably fades when he looks up. But I still don’t think he realizes how much this prank and the teams’ indifference hurt Spy.