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sundropflowerr · 9 days ago

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Keep Me Warm? | Steve Harrington

★ Warnings: no use of y/n, soft but slightly intense make-out session, fluff, established relationship, playful teasing, cozy domestic vibes, light banter, Steve being a human heater, mutual affection, soft touches, silly moments, clumsy attempts at making s’mores, cuddling, lingering glances, emotional softness, brief moments of flustered tension

★ Summary: When the weather turns cold, you and Steve love getting cozy together—warm sweaters, lots of laughter, and kisses that start sweet and fuzzy, and end breathless and hot. 2.9k

★ Pairings: steve harrington x fem!reader

★ Fic Inspiration: "Love to Keep Me Warm” - Laufey & Dodi

★ Dividers: thank you to @saradika for the adorable banner, it’s greatly appreciated!

★ Author's Note: steve definitely gives off “let’s stay home and cuddle” vibes on a cold night, which brought me to write this! i hope you all enjoy, this isn’t anything serious just relationship material. ignore how messy this is…

★ REMINDER: this has a slightly intense make-out session, if you are under 16 DNI!!

It was December, and the first real snow of the season had finally fallen.

The flurries were delicate at first, the kind that dusted the world like powdered sugar, covering the streets, the roofs, and the trees in a soft, white blanket.

It wasn’t quite Christmas yet, but the air had that distinct wintery feeling—a calm that came only with the cold and the promise of something festive just around the corner. The holiday season always seemed to make everything feel more alive, more full of possibility, and tonight was no different.

Inside Steve’s house, the warmth of the living room stood in stark contrast to the chilly air outside. A fire crackled softly in the hearth, casting flickering shadows that danced across the walls. The Christmas tree, freshly decorated, was proudly displayed in the corner, its lights twinkling like stars in the dim light. The soft scent of pine mixed with cinnamon candles, creating a cozy, inviting atmosphere.

A few stray ornaments that Steve had clearly hung haphazardly were balanced on the tree, reminding you that this wasn’t some pristine picture-perfect holiday home—it was Steve’s home, and it was perfect just the way it was.

You and Steve had been dating for a while now—this was your second Christmas together as a couple—and it still felt surreal at times.

You hadn’t started out as a love story. No dramatic confessions, no grand gestures. Just two friends who had spent countless hours together, laughing, talking, and eventually realizing that maybe, just maybe, they didn’t want to spend their time with anyone else.

The transition from friends to something more had been easy. It had happened gradually, like a soft shift you barely noticed until one day you were holding hands or stealing soft kisses when no one was looking, and it felt like the most natural thing in the world.

This December had been especially busy—Christmas events with your friends and the kids had filled up most of your days. You’d gone to Robin’s Christmas movie marathon, attended parties with Eddie and Jonathan and Nancy, and of course, you couldn’t forget the Secret Santa party with the kids—Dustin, Max, Eleven, Mike, and Lucas. It was always chaotic and loud, but you loved it. Still, after all the festivities, there was nothing better than this quiet evening with Steve, just the two of you tucked under a thick blanket on the couch. It felt like the calm after a storm of holiday cheer.

And tonight, with the fire crackling softly in the background, you couldn’t help but feel like this was exactly where you were meant to be.

“Okay, okay,” Steve said, breaking the comfortable silence. His voice was light, playful, like he was about to reveal some grand idea. “I know you said we’ve watched this movie, like, a million times, but I’m telling you—this one is different.”

You raised an eyebrow, glancing at the TV screen where another classic holiday film was playing. “Steve,” you said, half-laughing, half-sighing, “this is literally the third time we’ve watched this exact movie in the last week.”

He grinned at you, his eyes twinkling mischievously. “I know, I know, but this time, you’re going to feel the magic. You’ll see.”

You shook your head with a smile, snuggling deeper into the blanket. You loved the way he could turn something as simple as watching a holiday movie into an event, even if it was the same thing over and over. It was one of the reasons you liked spending time with him—his enthusiasm for even the most mundane things was infectious.

You found yourself settling into his side as the opening credits played, your head resting on his shoulder, his arm comfortably around your waist. The warmth of him seeped into you, wrapping you in a feeling that was just… right.

“I’m just glad we’re having a quiet night in,” you murmured, your fingers gently tracing patterns on his sleeve.

“Yeah, me too,” Steve agreed, his voice softer now, the playful edge gone. He shifted slightly, turning toward you, his gaze lingering on your face for a moment longer than usual. His fingers gently brushed a strand of hair behind your ear, a gesture so simple yet intimate that it made your heart flutter.

He’d always had this way of looking at you—like you were the most important thing in the room, like he was seeing only you and no one else. It was one of the things that had drawn you to him in the first place. Despite his loud, sometimes goofy exterior, Steve had this quiet intensity to him, a depth that showed in moments like this.

He never rushed anything. His affections were slow, steady, but always filled with a kind of warmth that made you feel completely at ease.

The movie continued to play, but the two of you weren’t really paying attention to it anymore. Instead, you both leaned into each other, enjoying the rare peace and stillness that a night like this could bring. The fire crackled in the background, its warmth creating a cocoon of comfort around the two of you.

Every now and then, Steve would chuckle at a cheesy line from the movie, and you’d tease him, calling him out for quoting it verbatim. But the laughter was lighthearted, natural. There was no rush, no pressure. Just the simple enjoyment of being together.

After a while, Steve broke the silence again, this time with a more mischievous tone. “Hey, what if we do something really holiday?”

You glanced up at him, raising an eyebrow. “Like what?”

“Like…” He paused, clearly considering his words. “Like make s’mores.”

You blinked, caught off guard. “It’s freezing outside, Steve.”

He was already pulling his jacket off the back of the couch, throwing it over his shoulders with excitement. “Exactly. That’s what makes it perfect.”

You couldn’t help but laugh, the sound coming out more easily than you expected. “You’re insane.”

“No, no,” he insisted, reaching for his boots.

“You’ll see. It’ll be fun. S’mores and snow. Firepit. Hot chocolate. It’s the ultimate December date.”

You sighed, but you were already getting up with him. “Fine, fine. You better not burn down your backyard, though.”

He flashed you an impish grin. “Wouldn’t dream of it.” Then he added, “Plus, you love my ridiculousness.”

Rolling your eyes, you followed him outside, immediately hit with the chill of the night air. You pulled your scarf tighter around your neck, the soft fabric warming you only slightly against the cold. Steve was already at the firepit, fiddling with the lighter and looking overly proud of himself.

“This is ridiculous,” you muttered under your breath as you made your way over.

Steve’s eyes lit up as he glanced over at you. “What’s ridiculous about a cozy firepit in the snow? This is perfect! The holidays, marshmallows, and us.”

You tried to hide your smile, but it slipped out anyway. There was something about his childlike excitement that made everything feel a little lighter, a little brighter.

He lit the fire with a flourish, the flames licking at the air as the warmth of the fire began to reach you. You held out your hands to warm them, watching as the snowflakes continued to fall softly around you both. The world had slowed even more out here, and it felt like you and Steve were the only two people in it.

“Alright, let’s roast some marshmallows!” Steve cheered, grabbing two skewers and handing you one.

You stared at the marshmallow bag, then back at him. “Are you sure we can pull this off? I don’t want a repeat of last year’s burnt mess.”

He waved you off confidently. “Trust me, I’ve totally got it under control this time.”

You raised an eyebrow but didn’t argue. You both started roasting marshmallows, laughing as Steve kept getting his too close to the flames and setting them on fire. You couldn’t help but laugh each time, even though you were pretty sure he’d managed to set his marshmallows on fire on purpose at least once.

You were concentrating on getting your own marshmallow just golden enough when Steve suddenly let out a loud groan.

“I swear this is impossible,” he complained dramatically, inspecting his marshmallow like it was an insult to his very existence. “Why is this always harder than it looks?”

You couldn’t help but laugh. “Because you’re holding it in the flames, Steve.”

He held it up proudly, the marshmallow now completely blackened. “That’s called advanced roasting. It’s gourmet, trust me.”

You shook your head but couldn’t stop laughing. You gave up on trying to control your own marshmallow for a second, just to enjoy watching Steve with his ridiculous, over-the-top attempts.

Once you both managed to salvage your s’mores—admittedly, with a bit of extra chocolate and a lot of mess—you headed back inside, shivering from the cold but laughing from the silliness of it all. You couldn’t remember the last time you had so much fun making s’mores that weren’t exactly perfect.

As soon as you stepped back into the warmth of Steve’s living room, you felt the tension leave your shoulders. Steve immediately grabbed the blanket from the couch, pulling it over both of you as you settled back in, curling into his side. You could still feel the chill from outside in your fingertips, but it was quickly replaced by the steady warmth of the fire and the even steadier warmth of Steve next to you.

The movie was still playing on the TV, but neither of you were paying attention to it anymore. Your focus was completely on each other. Every so often, Steve would catch your eye, a soft smile playing on his lips as he brushed a stray lock of hair from your face. You’d smile back, your heart fluttering at how natural it all felt.

“You know,” he said, his voice light but with a trace of affection, “I think this might be my favorite way to spend a cold night.”

You raised an eyebrow, playfully nudging him. “What, getting all cozy and not having to do anything productive?”

He laughed, shrugging. “Pretty much. But I think what really makes it great is having you here.”

Your heart skipped a beat, the sincerity in his words making the room feel even warmer. “You’re cheesy, Harrington,” you teased, nudging him back. “But I’ll admit, this is pretty perfect.”

Steve’s smile softened, his eyes locking with yours as his hand gently brushed a lock of hair from your face. “I mean it,” he murmured, his voice quieter now, “this—you—are perfect.”

You felt your breath catch in your throat, the space between you two suddenly feeling much smaller. Without saying another word, you both leaned in, your lips meeting in a kiss that started sweet but quickly deepened, the quiet of the evening wrapping around you both like the softest, warmest blanket.

You found yourself completely forgetting about the outside world-the snow falling softly against the window, the movie still playing in the background, the fire crackling quietly in the hearth.

There was only him, and only this moment.

His lips were gentle but eager, as if he couldn't wait to close the space between you both. Steve's hand came up to your cheek, the pad of his thumb softly brushing your skin as if memorizing every contour of your face. His touch was warm, steady, and it made your heart flutter.

You kissed him back just as gently, your lips fitting perfectly against his, a rhythm forming between you both that felt natural, like you'd been doing this forever.

The air between you two seemed to thicken, the room growing quieter despite the sounds of the fire. It was a comfortable quiet, one that let the moment linger, unhurried, like the two of you were savoring the closeness of each other.

Steve's other hand moved down to your waist, pulling you just a little bit closer, his body now aligned with yours. The subtle shift made your breath hitch, but it wasn't uncomfortable-quite the opposite. There was a sweet urgency in his movements, like he wanted to feel as close to you as possible without pushing you.

He wasn't rushing.

Neither of you were.

You could feel the heat of his body through his sweater, the soft, worn fabric brushing against your skin as his hand slipped under the blanket and found the bare skin of your side. You shivered slightly at the warmth of his touch, the contact sparking a deeper sense of closeness. His fingers were light, almost tentative, as if waiting for a sign from you to pull him closer or back off.

But you didn't want him to back off. You tilted your head to deepen the kiss, your hands instinctively finding their way to his chest, feeling the steady thrum of his heartbeat beneath your palm. You could feel the warmth of his breath on your lips, steady and soft, as your kiss turned a little more insistent. It was gentle, but there was a hint of longing in the way your lips moved together-an ache that seemed to build with every press of your mouths, every soft exhale.

Steve let out a low hum of approval, a sound that made you smile against his lips. He responded to your kiss with a new intensity, his hand sliding further up your back, his fingers splaying against the back of your neck, pulling you even closer as if he couldn't get enough of you. His other hand drifted from your waist to your cheek, gently cupping your face, his thumb tracing the line of your jaw as though he were trying to memorize every inch of you.

It was a soft, slow kiss-every movement deliberate, every touch more intimate than the last. His lips parted slightly, and you mirrored him instinctively, your breath mingling as you pressed a little closer to him.

The kiss was becoming deeper now, the kind that made your heart race, the kind where time seemed to stop. There was no hurry, no rush to go anywhere else. The entire world outside felt far away-just the warmth between your bodies, the comforting softness of the blanket, and the warmth of Steve's hands, which were now trailing lightly along your arm.

You felt your chest tighten with a fluttering sense of warmth, a mix of affection and longing. You wanted more-more of him, more of the feeling you were creating between the two of you. And without thinking, you shifted slightly in his arms, pressing yourself just a little bit closer, letting your hands slip from his chest to his shoulders, your fingers brushing along the soft fabric of his sweater.

The simple touch felt like an unspoken promise, a mutual understanding that the connection between you was growing deeper, the bond between you two thickening.

Steve's kiss deepened as well, his lips soft and persistent, his body language conveying a kind of quiet desire that matched your own. He pulled you just a little closer, his chest brushing against yours. You could feel the steady rise and fall of his breath against you, his heartbeat faster now, as the kiss became more urgent, more heated-but still tender.

Every inch of his touch felt like a question, a gentle inquiry into how far you both could go, without pushing each other too fast, without rushing.

But in that moment, neither of you cared about the pacing, the slowing down. There was no reason to hold back anymore, not when this was so perfect, so right. You both seemed to move in sync, as if your bodies were finally telling each other what you had known all along-that you belonged together, in this space, at this moment, in this soft, intimate exchange.

You could feel the heat rising in your cheeks, the intensity of the kiss slowly beginning to match the warmth of the fire that still flickered in the background.

His lips, though warm and soft, had a new kind of desperation to them now, as if he was afraid that if he pulled away, the moment would slip through his fingers.

He kept his hand at your neck, pulling you slightly up into him, the angle of the kiss shifting so you could taste him more, feel him more.

Your hands moved to his hair, fingers tangling in the soft strands, and you heard him sigh softly in response. That sound, soft and needy, sent a wave of warmth rushing through your chest, a deep connection settling in your bones.

The kiss breaks, and you both pull back just enough to catch your breath, eyes meeting, soft smiles playing on your lips as you stay close, the space between you two still small, your foreheads resting against each other in that moment of shared intimacy.

The silence was thick with affection, both of you a little breathless, hearts still racing in the wake of the kiss.

Steve's eyes softened as he looked at you, his thumb gently brushing across your cheek, as if savoring the moment. He smiled, a little sheepish but with genuine affection in his gaze.

“You know,” he said, his voice low and a little teasing, “I think you’re the best thing about this cold weather. You keep me warm.”

You couldn’t help but laugh softly, your heart fluttering at the tenderness in his voice. “Yeah? Is that so?” you replied, raising an eyebrow playfully. “You sure it’s not just your sweater doing all the work?”

Steve looked down at his oversized sweater, the sleeves of which were too long, making his hands disappear. “Hey, don’t underestimate my sweater,” he said with a mock defensiveness, pulling you even closer as if to prove his point. “It’s a crucial part of the equation.”

You smiled, feeling the warmth of his body against yours. “Well, maybe it’s the combination of your sweater and you,” you teased, leaning in just slightly to brush your lips against his once more.

Steve’s grin widened, his eyes twinkling with affection. “Well, I guess I’m glad I’m not just a walking blanket,” he chuckled, his voice light. “But seriously, if it weren’t for you, I’d just be a big pile of cozy clothes, no personality.”

You laughed, the sound warm and easy as you cupped his face in your hands, your fingers brushing against the soft stubble along his jaw. “Good thing you’re more than just your clothes, Harrington.”

He grinned, kissing you gently again, his lips warm and soft against yours. “Yeah, I’m pretty great, huh?”

You smile, feeling your heart swell with warmth, both from the kiss and from the words. You lean into him again, your lips barely brushing his as you whispered back,

“Definitely.”

thank you so much for reading! please like/reblog or comment if you did, it would be greatly appreciated. have a great day!

#steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x fem!reader #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington #steve harrington x you #steve harrington one shot #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things #x y/n #christmas #fanfiction #fanfic #fandom #tv series #steve harrington masterlist #steve the hair harrington #songfic

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if-you-like-pina-colada-s · 2 months ago

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Silly little miscellaneous JL headcanons:

Arthur:

-enjoys knitting to de-stress (has a lot of warm blankets he made out of frustration)

-likes to poke his head out of the water like a shark sometimes (it looks really funny and kinda cute)

Barry:

-has to consciously walk slow (he just naturally walks fast and tends to leave the group behind)

-has a hard time estimating how long it will take him to get somewhere (plays into the whole being perpetually late thing)

Clark:

-definitely chews on weird things during meetings and ends up eating it ("Clark where did the thing go?" "I ate it"<- is being serious)

-rolls his eyes a LOT when he thinks people aren't looking (he's a sassy bitch, Ma has definitely called him out on it multiple times)

Jonn:

-tends to hide food in odd places a lot (it does not help that his friends keep eating each other's food from the fridge)

-strong sweet tooth, the amount of sugar he consumes would not be healthy for a human

Hal:

-also a really good driver (dare I say he could be a good race car driver too?)

-fork lift certified >:)

Diana:

-is actually a big sports fan, enjoys watching games on the TV and live. Will happily join you to watch one

-loves any messy outdoors activity, really. Willing to try anything more than once.

Dinah:

-actually REALLY good at reading sheet music and sight reading

-has tested how high she can sing without breaking things too many times to count (she says it's for science, Dinah we no longer have glass cups bc of you)

Oliver:

-loves cooking, it's his love language, always willing to try new stuff (but also just tends to enjoy making the same things a lot)

-loves board games but gets too competitive (how the hell is one THAT good at jenga wtf??)

Bruce:

-has a very goth-style of dancing

-bit of a history nerd, will listen to Diana ramble about her work in archeology a lot too

Billy:

-really good at chess and jigsaw puzzles

-knows how to sew/mend clothing really well and will offer to fix something for you

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kingkatsuki · 1 year ago

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Just more silly little Bakugou thoughts because I’m insane :)

Warnings: mentions of pregnancy/being pregnant.

Bakugou has such big, rough hands but he holds you so cautiously when you’re pregnant. As though the same hands that were built to protect you, could do you the most harm. It’s cute really, the way he treats you like the finest bone china, enveloping you in bubble wrap to try and shield you from all the horrors of the world. Protecting the now two most important things in his life.

“I’m not even showing yet, baby.” You laugh when he places a protective palm over your tummy as you prepare to cross the road together as a bike races by, “The paps are gonna find out before we’ve even told anyone.”

“Don’t fuckin’ care,” He scoffs, letting you lace your fingers with the hand that was against your stomach as you begin to cross the road together, “You’re the most important thing in my life— both of you are— of course I’m gonna protect you.”

“You’re such a sap,” You tease, squeezing his hand softly as he shoots you a playful glare.

“A sap that fucked a baby into you.” He gives you a smug grin when you reach your other hand up to smack his arm, shrinking back as he pretended to be scared of your assault, “Oi! Just because you’re pregnant doesn’t mean I won’t bend you over my knee, sweetheart.”

“Isn’t that how we got into this in the first place.” You laughed as he rolled his eyes at you playfully.

Bakugou pushed the door to the doctors surgery open with his free hand as he held it high so you could walk in beneath his arm, waiting for you to get checked in as he slid into the seat beside you, “We get a photo of her this time, right?”

“Her?” You turned to Bakugou with curious eyes.

“Yeah, I mean or him,” He shrugged.

“Dynamight wants a little girl, huh?”

“I wouldn’t mind,” He smiled, “But anything would be perfect if it’s with you.”

Most would think that the Dynamight wouldn’t take to fatherhood; a man who was far too brash and volatile to take on such a nurturing role. You were certain you could see the scathing headlines now, watching and waiting to see him fail. But you knew better— you got to experience the way he protected you.

Bakugou is there to help you out of the tub after enjoying a bubble bath that he prepared, because although you always deserved to be pampered it’s tenfold now that you’re carrying his child. Wrapping a towel around your frame as he presses a kiss to your forehead, drying off your skin as he stands with you in the steamy bathroom. Taking in every gorgeous curve that’s more accentuated and pronounced now you’ve got that ethereal, dewy glow that you get when you’re creating another human.

He’s so gentle when he drops down to his knees, as though he’s ready to worship every inch of you— and he is. Slowly smoothing lotion into the ever growing bump that’s starting to show more and more each day, confessing your worries about stretch marks to Bakugou who now made it his mission to massage your bump each evening, “We’re going to have to tell your mum soon, Katsuki.”

“Yeah, yeah.” He mumbles, smoothing the cream into your skin as he presses his lips against the ever-growing bump.

“I won’t be able to hide it much longer, and she’ll kill you if she finds out from the news.” You carded your fingers through his messy spikes as he nuzzled your tummy, creamy hands still smoothing along your skin as he stared up at you with crimson eyes.

“I just want to enjoy you like this a bit longer,” He mumbled, pressing a kiss against your ever growing bump, “Then we can show her the scan.”

#soft bakugou

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honest-moth-of-silver-grove · 2 months ago

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hc for adrian having a girlfriend or s/o prior to his mother's death. they're human and maybe her apprentince or something. and the church takes her too, but before they can burn her at the stake, dracula shows up and rescues her because he knows lisa was fond of her. during adrians and draculas fight maybe she interbenes at a critical moments so drac doesnt kill him and alucard gets away but she's now a prisoner of dracula w/n his castle. and maybe she befriends the generals?

A/N: Aw, man. Sometimes I wonder if Lisa did have an apprentice, that maybe Dracula wouldn’t be as anti-human as he ended up being, or if she could start to turn him to see the error of his ways sometime before Alucard and Dracula end up in Adrian’s childhood bedroom.

Apologies for the delays in updates. But my brain went WILD with this request so it’s a long one, I hope that makes up for the less frequent posting. Anyway, I hope you enjoy these somewhat bittersweet (then depressing then bittersweet again) headcanons! (Also this is unbeta-ed and prob grammatically messy as hell, so read at your own expense lol.)

Word Count: 6.2k

TW: Canon Typical Descriptions of Graphic Violence; Brief Mentions of Sexual Violence; Canon Death; Descriptions of Torture (the church is high-key fucked up here) 

Adrian W/ A Human S/O Reader (Who’s Also Lisa’s Apprentice, Prior to Her Death): ��

━━━━━ ❂ ━━━━━

The Beginning:

Okay, so let’s get one thing straight… FIRST OF ALL, Lisa would adore you!!! Like, you make her baby boy happy and you’re smart??? What else is there to it? And then to top it all off, you’re super sweet and kind and interested in learning about medicine and the world around you!

Lisa meets you once over dinner and she’s already planning the wedding in her head.

Adrian is smitten, because of course he is, but in an adorable, somewhat restrained way. He doesn't have a lot (ahem, ANY) experience in this department, so he’s hesitant to take things forward with you, mainly because he doesn’t want to scare you off or make you suspicious about what he is. (It’s hard to make out with someone when you have two big vampire fangs in the front.)

Adrian is young, like you. So, on top of all the complications, he feels no need to rush things. Sure, he’s heard a few whispers here and there about Dracula having a son, a son who according to rumors and gossiping villagers is to rise as the antithesis of Dracula. It’s all silly superstition, but it does stay fixed in the back of his mind. What would this future legacy mean for his relationship with you? And, should it ever come to pass, would you even be a part of it?

That’s neither here nor there though, and in the meantime, the two of you simply enjoy the talking phase. You get to learn more about each other's interests, and beliefs, but mostly, you spend time in proximity to one another— you remain busy attending to his mother, learning all you can about healing while he, just a table over, spends his time rereading one of his many favorite tomes.

I honestly don’t see you meeting Dracula until you and Adrian are like a fully committed couple. I’m pretty sure you would have to have been Lisa’s apprentice for a while and/or lived with the Tepes in their Lupu cottage for months before Lisa finally breaks through Dracula’s protests and makes him officially meet you.

I don’t think that meeting would happen in Lupu either. No, I imagine it would have to take place at Dracula’s castle, just in case you were to freak out, you’d have no way of escaping and telling any others.

I can almost see your reaction being similar to Lisa’s upon first entering the castle, especially if Adrian is already at your side. Don’t get me wrong, I’m sure Dracula is terrifying, but there’s also a giant telescope in the next room calling your name so….

Much to Adrian’s relief, this newfound information doesn’t make you frightened of him at all, if anything, it simply reignites your fascination with him. You throw rapid-fire questions at him: If he's part vampire, how come you’ve seen him eating human food? Does he need both food and blood to satisfy each of his halves? If he needs blood, he could take some of yours you know…

Your penchant for learning softens Dracula a little. For a brief time, he wonders if, perhaps, it was as Lisa said, that the humans could change, that humanity was changing for the better.

He sits across from you at their grand dinner table, watching you intensely as you and Adrian talk about the recent literature you’ve read. You’d no doubt feel Dracula’s all-powerful gaze on you, making you turn to him and… Wait, did you just smile?!

You’ve got guts, Dracula will give you that.

Knowing the family secret, you can’t exactly break up with Adrian, nor do you have any desire to. I wonder if Dracula would have rings made for the two of you, maybe commission a new family portrait or two.

You stay with Lisa in Lupu during Dracula's travels. Adrian is around, although he's always off between the castle and their cottage, so you never feel entirely alone or vulnerable. Your life is perfect! It’s better than you could have ever imagined!

That is, until…

━━━━━ ● ━━━━━

The During:

When the Church comes to take Lisa, you beg them to see reason. You cry and scream, hell, you even try to fight your way out at one point, only for both you and Dr. Tepes to be overpowered by the Church’s henchman.

The two of you are taken, violently, to Targoviste, where you’re thrown into dark, damp cells with little to no light. Freezing, you huddle together for warmth, each trying your best to reassure the other, that all will turn out well. Adrian was still around, right? He’ll have to come home to find you missing, he’ll come and rescue you. And Dracula was due to return soon, correct? Surely, they’ll come. Surely, they’ll stop this madness.

It’s a few days later, after hours of interrogation and brutal torture that you realize with a heavy heart, that no one is coming to rescue you. And what’s worse, that these so-called men of the cloth cannot and will not listen to reason. You’re starved and beaten, your hair is sliced off so close to your skin, that they take bits of your scalp with it in some places. And despite initially being imprisoned with Lisa, you find yourself being separated from her for longer periods.

The men try everything to get you to turn on her. They tell you if you recant her wicked ways now, say she used her evil magic to trick you, your sentencing will be easier. You could still live— they dangle betrayal in front of you as a last lifeline. You don’t take it of course. You love Mrs. Tepes, and you know she’s no witch. You muster what little might you have left, spitting at the men as you tell them to go to hell. You swear she’s innocent, that she knows nothing. Hell, at one point, you find yourself confessing to having manipulated her! You don’t think they buy it though, if the poor doctor’s screams from down the hall are anything to go by.

The night they light the pyre, the night of Lisa’s murder, you’re sick on more than one occasion. You scream your throat raw, begging them to burn you first! That she was innocent! That you corrupted her! That it was all your doing! But to no avail.

In a scene that could only rival the Crucifixion of Christ himself, you look up through tear-soaked eyes to see Lisa, enshrouded in flames, begging Dracula to show mercy on her killers, to forgive them, that they know not what they do. “I know it's not your fault,” she cries out, “But, if you can hear me, they don't know what they're doing! Be better than them. Please!”

You sob and wail, watching as your would-be mother-in-law is burned alive. You scream out for someone, anyone! To please help you, save you! With Lisa’s last words echoing in your mind, you can’t help but fear Adrian’s and his Father’s reactions, should they find you both killed.

Oh, gods…

You don’t know what makes you feel sicker… The barbaric display you’re witnessing now or the hypothetical one that threatens to wipe out all living people in Wallachia once Dracula learns of what’s happened. You need not wait long for an answer.

In a fury of fire and grandeur, Dracula’s head appears, molded in flame, demanding to know what has happened to his wife. You cry out to him, apologizing profusely, saying you begged them to burn you first! You scream out how they refused to see reason, they killed her for helping! Injudiciously, in your indignant anger, you plead with Dracula to release his fury on the priests who did this, to send them to hell to be tortured for eternity for this unforgivable transgression!

With the silent fury of a gathering storm, Dracula’s fiery visage speaks calmly as his anger grows concertedly less. "I give you one year Wallachians,” he finally decides. “You have one year to make your peace and remove any marks you have made upon the land. One year, and I'll wipe all human life from the land of Wallachia. You took that which I love, so I will take from you everything you have and everything you have ever been. One year."

No sooner than he spits out the words, a coil of fire bursts from his image, winding itself around your body. The guards surrounding you gasp and flee, avoiding the coil’s tail as it whips back and forth, hoisting you into the air.

The fiery coil burns your skin, and the smell of even more burnt flesh makes you gag. If you had any bile left over at all, you’re certain it’d come up yet again. The pain is like a thousand stinging nettles and boiling water constricting your arms and midriff all at once. Your vision grows blurry as you feel your body move through the air, your nostrils taking in one last wretched breath of sulfur and smoke.

━━━━━ ◉ ━━━━━

The After — Part One:

When you awake you find yourself laid, practically bare, a heap on the floor within Dracula’s castle— the evil Lord himself only feet away, raging over his magic well— as shards of his magic mirror whip around him at incredible speeds. Your head is pounding, it feels as if it might explode, and your arms… Fuck.

Where the supernatural coil grabbed you, your skin was red and raw, small pockets of blisters already beginning to form. Your arms tremble uncontrollably as you try to move them, the pain that’s consuming your nerves is far too intense to hold them steady as you sit up into an upright position.

It doesn’t feel real; nothing feels real. It feels like a nightmare. It had all been perfect, everything was perfect— you all were happy! How did it turn into such horror so fast?

Shakily, you rise to your feet and clutch the remains of your clothes to your chest in an attempt to preserve your modesty, although it’s more of a subconscious act on your part. Everything feels like it’s moving in slow motion, yourself included. It’s like the air is heavier here somehow, its weight filling your lungs and weighing you down.

A loud noise shocks you back to the present, nearly making you stumble over in fright. At least you would have, had Adrian not used his superspeed to catch you before you fell. One of his gloved hands grasps your left arm directly over the burn, causing you to let out a hiss. His rectangular eyes look wider than you’ve ever seen as he releases his grip, looking over your battered form.

“(Y/N) ...” Adrian says, his voice serious and quiet, barely a whisper.

You shake your head furiously, unable to trust your ability to speak without breaking. Upon Adrian’s gentle insistence, you feel your mouth opening, and the words slipping out, scraping against the back of your reddened throat as they exit your frail body.

“They killed her, Adrian…” you whisper, your voice quivering. “I, we tried to stop them, they just wouldn’t listen!” Somehow, your eyes begin to water again, despite your earlier certainty that your body had no water nor tears left in it at all.

“Once she realized they wouldn't listen to reason, she lied and told them I was innocent. She told them she had manipulated me, that I was just a child, that I didn’t know what I was doing, that she never got the chance to teach me!” A feeling of guilt consumes you as you speak the words aloud, and soon enough, your body is once again plagued by uncontrollable sobs.

Adrian listens intently to your words, his brows furrowed. You watch through teary eyes as a range of emotions flash across his face: anger, hurt, pain, sorrow, and finally… acceptance. Your beloved hardens his gaze, choking down whatever grief he may be feeling. At the present, Adrian knows, there are more pressing matters at hand.

You follow Adrian’s steely gaze back, seeing his Father where he is bent over his summoning circle, cursing in a language that is foreign to you before he switches back to Romanian.

“One year! It will take me one year to summon an army from the guts of Hell itself!” Dracula proclaims, promising to enact vengeance for the death of his love.

“No.” Adrian counters, slipping out of your grasp.

“Adrian,” you whisper, warningly. “Don’t—”

“What do you mean, ‘no’? That woman was the only reason on Earth for me to tolerate human life!” Dracula retaliates, enraged his son could even conceive of such lenience.

“Then find the one who did the deed,” Alucard proposes. “If you set loose an army of the night on Wallachia, you cannot undo it, and many thousands of people just as innocent as her will suffer and die.”

“There are no innocents! Not anymore! Any one of them could have stood up and said, ‘No, we won't behave like animals anymore.’"

“(Y/N) did.” Adrian points out. “She tried to take all the blame, in an attempt to save Mother’s life.”

Dracula looks over at you with blood-red eyes, contempt clear on his face. “And yet,” he snarls, “Here she stands, and my Wife, your Mother does not!” He hisses the last word, livid that out of the two of you, you were the one who survived.

With large, fearful eyes, you watch as Adrian closes the gap between him and his Father.

“I won't let you do it. I grieve with you, but I won't let you commit genocide.”

“Adrian,” you warn again.

The next bit happened all so quickly.

Faster than you could blink, you watch, helpless, frozen in horror as Adrian charges his father, his longsword drawn. Despite their vampiric speed being unrecognizable to the untrained human eye, you swear you watch the scene unfold in slow motion. Adrian charges first, but Dracula, roaring in a fit of rage, counters faster— his Father’s elongated claws slash diagonally across Adrian’s chest, before his fist pauses, still embedded deep within your lover’s gut.

You don’t have time to think before you act. To you, Adrian has the abilities of a god, but to his Father… It was clear there’d be no match. You have no clue how you got your hands on it, no idea as to how you even managed a successful hit, but the next thing you know, a triangular shard of magic mirror is impaled in Great Lord Dracula’s back, put there by your very hand.

Too terrified to even breathe, the only sound you can hear beyond your racing pulse is a wet, gory squelch as Dracula retracts his claws from Adrian’s body. You hear the spray of blood before you see it, a rush of bright red blood gushes onto the marble floor between Dracula and his son.

Standing at his impressive full height, Dracula turns ever so slowly, ever so menacingly, to face you. His pupils are that of a blood moon, his sclera so bloodshot they practically look as black as night. In that second, you know you’ve fucked up.

You cower as Dracula raises one hand to you, instinctively shielding your neck from his nasty bloodied talons. With surprisingly repressed strength, Dracula backhands you, the force sending you flying backward, smashing into the base of one of the curved bookshelves lining the walls of his summoning room.

With his focus still on you, Dracula stalks toward you. Knowing it’s now or never, you scream at Adrian to flee. “Run!” The words rip out of your raw throat, sounding like an eleventh commandment.

You see Adrian, previously stunned by his Father’s disregard for his life, holding together the gaping wound across his chest. He has no time to even spare you, his beloved, a last look before evaporating into clouds, his cloud of bloodied mist bolting for the door, fleeing as fast as his injured state would allow him.

Dracula only turns to watch as his son, his very possibly fatally wounded son, flees the confines of his castle. For a moment it is silent— only the sound of both yours and Dracula’s heaving breaths echo across the chamber.

Clenching his clawed fingers into a fist, Dracula says nothing as he too makes his way to the castle doors, leaving your bruised and broken body alone in the dark.

━━━━━ ❍ ━━━━━

The After — Part Two:

Somehow, Christ only knows, you find your way to one of Lisa’s old labs and do a half-assed job of patching yourself up. You find your burns and dislocated shoulder to be the most painful of injuries.

Thankfully, Lisa had taught you enough about setting a patient’s shoulder that you managed to smash it into an adjacent wall, popping your joint back in yourself. The burns you wrap in honey and milk-soaked linen gauze, wincing every time the bandages brush against your skin. It’s awful work, slow work too, but you must have managed it alright because you find yourself patched up and passed out in one of the castle’s kitchens a few hours (or days? had it been days?) after that.

You eat raw vegetables and berries— nothing that requires cooking. Lord knows you couldn't prepare anything successfully now even if you were to try. Eating your foraged meal in silence you debate your next steps. Do you go back home? Would your family even welcome you home after your long and unexplained absence? And if they, along with all the humans in Wallachia were ultimately to be driven from the land, did it matter anyway?

‘Oh god,’ you think. You have to warn them, have to make them flee before a year is up. But where would you go? Where could you go? Greater Styria was a possibility, although it was not by any means an easy journey, and the climate there was much colder than your folks were used to here. You shakily rise to your feet and set out to find a map within one of the Castle’s many libraries.

After a good night’s rest, you find your mindset with a newfound determination: you will go home. You were going to get your family on the move and then… Then, you’d come back here.

You knew, in all likelihood, that returning to Dracula’s castle after the fact entailed certain death. But you also knew, things would get worse if he were to be left alone.

Dracula may not have ever loved you for a daughter-in-law. Hell, he may not have ever loved anyone aside from Mrs. Tepes, but you promised her while huddling together that first night in those dingy cells that no matter what happened, should either of you get out alive, you would not leave Adrian and Vlad. “They need humans, (Y/N),” Lisa coughed into your ear. “And most importantly, humanity needs them.”

Dracula would resent your company, he would want to be rid of you. But you could not be rid of him, not after what Lisa had asked of you.

‘Besides,’ you thought, ‘Nobody should have to grieve alone.’

The journey back home to your parents is majorly uneventful. Sure, it was touch and go for a while, your body was exhausted after the ordeal you endured, and your wounds had gotten infected once or twice. Thankfully, you had the mind to pack with you any potential treatments you might need.

It felt good to be home, to be amongst family again. You couldn’t stop crying and hugging everyone when you first arrived. You kept the details to a minimum but made it clear they needed to be the hell out of Wallachia before a year. You told them you had found an apprenticeship, that the woman was kind to you, but while in Targoviste, you saw the burning of a witch, and soon after the face of Satan himself appeared in flames, threatening the crowd. It caused a panic, you see, and you had gotten trampled in the process.

You didn’t bother to explain that the woman you were learning under was this so-called witch and that this Satanic figure was her husband. Nor did you tell them of your half-inhuman partner. You knew had you told the family the whole truth, they might have cast you out as a devil worshiper and a liar and choose not to heed your words.

Your warnings spread through your extended family like how ivy creeps up a stone wall. A fair part of your relatives in the country believed you enough to agree to uproot their lives and settle outside of Wallachia: some settled on Syria, others had decided on Greece, Egypt, or Rome. The more skeptical ones who hemmed and hawed over the validity of your claims agreed to move into the countryside, a decent distance from any major Wallachian city or village.

When you were certain they’d heed your words, you told them you could not stay with them, your Mother wept for three straight days and your Father could do little to console her. As much as it broke your family’s heart, you knew that your need to return to Castlevania was larger than yours. You weren't just doing it for your family, you were doing it for every family across the land. You couldn't be selfish. Mrs. Tepes was the most selfless woman you had met, and she taught you well. If you meant what you said to her when you first met, that you wanted to help people, you would need to buck up and accept the consequences of that.

Your journey back to the castle was much more melancholy than your journey home. You could almost feel the whispers of the tortured souls Dracula had slain before blowing cold air into your ears, begging you to turn back. Nevertheless, you continued. You entered Castlevania to find you were alone, however, that would not be the case for long.

Months later you had fallen into somewhat of a predictable routine within the castle and its new occupants. Dracula had recruited two humans to serve as his war planners— men by the names of Hector and Isaac, respectively. You appreciate the levity Hector, and his undead pets bring, and you admire the intelligence and loyalty Isaac has. You just wish they weren’t going along with Dracula’s plan.

You tread carefully as you find the time to express to each of his Generals that you wish they wouldn’t go through with this plan. You explain humans are not the kind of species to give in to subjugation, they will revolt eventually. You suggest the vampires come up with some sort of tit-for-tat system with the humans instead like, for example, promised blood servants would equal vampiric protection for that territory.

It’s safe to say no one is impressed with your centrist ideals, so eventually stop taking part in the conversation. You silently hang around Hector, and just listen with a sorrowful expression, satisfied with knowing that if you can’t change the Generals' minds, you can, at the very least, make them somewhat uncomfortable.

When Carmilla arrives, you’re immediately put off by her little display of insolence. Unlike yours, her dissent doesn’t seem to come from a place of concern. You make a mental note to keep an eye on her.

It’s during the General's next argument that you receive a ray of hope: “We are quite certain that Alucard sleeps at Gresit.”

You feel your body grow lighter.

“So, that means,” you speak aloud to yourself more so to anyone else, “Adrian is alive?”

You’re met with a handful of annoyed glares from the other vampires as Isaac continues: “And that there was recently a Belmont there.”

Upon hearing Carmilla berate the others for not sending night creatures to the ancestral Belmont home, your smile falls and your improved mood falters. These Belmonts were famous monster hunters, famous enough to frighten your current vampire company. That means, if there was a Belmont in Gresit, at the same time as Adrian, as Alucard, whatever the hell he’s going by these days, it could prove disastrous for your love. For all you know, he’s still recovering from the wounds dealt to him by his Father. And if this Belmont, this monster hunter strikes first and asks questions later, he may accidentally kill the only living vampire in existence who stands against the very nature of this war.

‘How ironic,’ you think solemnly. Just as fast as the universe gives you hope, it rips it away once more.

You excuse yourself, and make your way towards Hector’s forge, aiming to distract your distraught mind with some cute reanimated pets.

Shortly thereafter, Hector joins you. He asks if you truly did not know Dracula’s son was still alive. You shake your head ‘no’, telling him how you had prayed every past night to any God who would listen, that they would send their holy armies and angels to guard him, but no, you had mostly just feared he was dead.

You spend the rest of the night talking to Hector about Alucard, Adrian as you knew him. How smart he was, how much the two of you used to laugh, and how much he looked just like his Mother.

“Perhaps that’s why,” Hector supposes, “Dracula could no longer bear to see him.”

You say perchance he’s right, conveniently leaving out the part where the Father and Son duo almost fought to the death right in front of you.

The conversation with Hector reignites something within you. You feel as if you had been praying all this time for an answer, and this was it. Alucard was alive, and so was Belmont. You understand now what needs to be done.

Your lover must once again fight his Father, and this time, he must win.

Your silent observations allow you to learn of Carmilla’s scheme fairly early on, as well as Godbrand’s demise at the hands of Isaac, yet all that time, you say nothing. You keep your mouth shut and your eyes down. If Carmilla divides Dracula’s army and court, she will inevitably make it easier for Alucard and Belmont to destroy him.

The Generals, and even Dracula himself, believe you are mourning the loss of your love for the second time, as his demise will be inevitable the moment he meets his Father and his armies— or at least, that’s what they assume.

When Carmilla has Hector send special night creatures to the remains of the Belmont home, you attach a letter around one of the creature's necks, hoping your love will notice it, and if he doesn’t, you pray he instinctively outwits the traps that await for him within his Father’s castle.

━━━━━ ❂ ━━━━━

Beginning Again:

The night Dracula chooses to move the Castle to Braila, you manage to speak with him one last time.

You bring him some tea, even though you know he won’t drink it, and you tell him, for what must be the hundredth time, how sorry you are about all that’s happened. You apologize for not being able to do more to save his wife. You tell him that if you could do it all over again if you were given a choice between who they should burn first, you’d demand it be you.

Dracula turns away from the fire to look at you upon hearing those words.

“She was fond of you, you know.” He says, sounding far away as if lost in a distant memory. “She was overjoyed at the thought of gaining a daughter”

You nodded along a hurt smile on your face. “It was my honor.” Gathering your courage you continued: “Even though it didn’t work out, I want you to know I loved your wife very much… And,” you kept going. “I love your son very much.”

Dracula said nothing. He simply turned his attention back to the flames within his study’s fireplace.

“It’s not too late, you know,” you prod gently. “If Adrian is alive, he could still come back, we could still be a family-”

“No!” Dracula’s low growl sent shivers down your spine.

For a moment you feared he would rise to attack you or perhaps berate you further, but no such action came. Instead, the former Great Lord Dracula’s shoulders deflated back to their hunched position, as he fell silent once again.

Quietly, you made your way back to your room, shutting and locking the door behind you. If you had any tears left at all, you would have shed them throughout the night. Instead, you merely lay awake, staring at the ceiling, wondering if there would even be a tomorrow to awaken to.

Pleased to still be alive at this point, but feeling increasingly suffocated by this overwhelming sense of doom, you spend the next day cooped up in your room, on your knees, the rosary in your hand, whispering prayers of safety for your loved one. You couldn't explain it, but at the time, you felt compelled to recite prayer after prayer and reveal all the fears and worries in your heart.

You speak out to Death, to God, to all the angels and saints, and beg them to grant Adrian safe passage as he completes his task of saving humanity— it’s something his Mother would have wanted after all.

Amidst your fervent prayers, you feel the Castle shake and creak, but you soon realize something is off: it keeps jerking from side to side, several times, way too many to be a case of a single relocation. Your heart races, and in the pit of your gut, you know this is it:

The Alucard has come.

Your love has come back for you.

You scramble behind the door, poised with a wooden stake in hand (just in case, you never know), and wait.

And wait.

Following a crescendo of metallic crashes and screaming, you hear more crashes, this time lesser in intensity and they’re accompanied by the distinct scent of fire, sulfur, and burnt flesh.

It terrifies you, bringing such horrible memories of your almost demise to the surface. You look down at the burn scars on your arms and feel physically ill. Every time you shut your eyes to blink, you see the corpse of Ms. Tepes, burning alive right before you as if no time has passed at all, as if you’re trapped in the permanent hell of that memory.

The overwhelming ornery atmosphere in the castle only grows, seeming to suddenly flood your nostrils and every pore.

You watch in shock and horror as thousands of soot-colored transparent ghouls burst through your doorway, the shock of the impact sending you reeling into the bed. Tortured faces of all shapes and sizes circle you menacingly, before bursting through your room’s glass window, vanishing just as fast as they came.

Within an instant you feel… lighter, freer almost. It’s as if something major has changed, but you don’t know what.

Timidly, stake still in hand, you make your way down the castle corridors. Unfortunately, you have to take several detours, your regular route being cut off by giant holes in the architecture. A good portion of the castle looks like it had been hit with cannon fire.

You sincerely hope that whatever caused that damage is no longer rampaging around these halls, lest you stumble upon them yourself.

By the time you reach the throne room, the sun is just peeking out from behind the horizon. The sight of it flowing freely into the castle interior lifts your spirits with hope. Sunlight means no vampires. No vampires means…

You follow the originating path of the sun’s beams, finding three figures illustrated against the sunrise. One of them is a burly-looking man, with a large frame and broad shoulders. Another is a woman, at least, you’re fairly certain they’re a woman, with curly hair, dressed in flowing blue robes. And the third is….

You don’t even need a second glance to know who the third person is.

Crying out his name, you run towards your long-lost lover, almost losing your footing over all the debris covering the floor. But just as he would before, and just as he always would, your lover, Adrian, catches you before you can fall.

The two of you cling to each other for dear life, just silently sobbing, feeling grateful to be in one another’s embrace. You’re not sure how long the two of you stay intertwined like that, you just know however long it was, it could never be enough to make up for how much you missed him this past year.

“Adrian,” you clutch his coat, “I thought you were dead! I thought he had killed you! I was so worried.”

“He almost did,” the strange broad-shoulder man reveals in a teasing fashion. You watch as the robed woman elbows him in the gut.

“Alucard,” Adrian says, regaining your attention as he grasps your hands in his. “I am Alucard now.”

You look into his golden eyes, sensing while this is still very much the body of the man you loved, this Alucard before you, is not the same person that your Adrian was. After all this time, it feels like quite the loss, and yet, you cannot fault him for it. You are unaware of the journey he’s been on, of the sacrifices he’s had to make. God knows your character must have changed as well, living amongst a vampire court and necromancers for just under a year.

You back away from your love, temporarily ignoring his concerned expression.

“Hello Alucard,” you say, extending a hand, “My name is (Y/N). And I’d very much like to share a drink with you if you’d let me.”

“Don’ know about Alucard,” the broad man mumbles, gripping his side in pain, “But I’d very much like a drink. Or five.”

“Trevor!” The robed woman scolds.

“What?”

You smile at the three of them, feeling beyond blessed that your love has found such wonderful new friends.

When you had first fallen for Adrian, you assumed your family would consist solely of him, his mother, and his father, that you’d spend the rest of your days learning medicine in a little cottage nestled in Lupu. That simple life was to be yours. But now, it’s all changed. And Alucard is all that remains of that family you once loved.

You gaze out into the forest beyond the castle grounds, closing your eyes and sighing as you feel the morning’s sun on your face.

Yes, it was true Mrs. and Mr. Tepes were gone.

It was true that the old Adrian could never come back.

But if you had to choose a new life, a life here amongst a gorgeous castle, with your former lover and his two new friends, well… you doubted you could pick a better one than that.

A/N 2.0: WHY DID THIS TAKE ME SO LOOOONG? Who knows? Anyway, it’s here now. And hey— did you pay close attention to the symbols in the dividers? Go ahead and look back if you didn’t, just a silly little fun symbolism storytelling. Oh, also, I will finally be updating The Queue List to reflect all the asks I’ve since answered and posted to not confuse people checking on the status of their ask/new readers.

If you liked reading this, please REBLOG! Likes are great but reblogs spread my work much further.

If you really, really liked reading this, Consider Buying Me a Coffee <3.

#adrian tepes x reader #alucard castlevania #alucard x reader #alucard x you #alucard imagine #adrian fahrenheit tepes #adrian tepes #alucard #castlevania imagine #castlevania x reader

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luvzshy · 3 months ago

Note

Could you do Billie talking about reader in the yearly interview

A/n: I did 5 years of relationship, I'm crazy about lasting relationships sorry😭🏃🏻‍♀️‍➡️🏃🏻‍♀️‍➡️ anyway enjoy ml 💕💕✨

Journey of Love

Year 1:

Billie sat in her usual chair, surrounded by the soft glow of the set lights that felt both familiar and intimidating. The Vanity Fair interview had become an annual ritual, a chance to reflect on her journey as an artist and a person. But this year, there was a flutter of nerves deep in her stomach.

When the interviewer leaned in with the first personal question, Billie’s heart raced. “Are you seeing anyone?”

Her instinct was to deflect, to keep her private life close to her chest, but instead, she felt a warmth spread across her face. “Yeah,” she said, unable to keep the smile from her lips. “I am.”

The interviewer’s eyes sparkled with curiosity. “Anyone special?”

Billie’s smile deepened. “She’s incredible. Not in the industry. She helps me feel… normal.” The truth of those words hung in the air. You were the calm in her storm, someone who didn’t care about the fame, someone who simply loved her for who she was.

In the quiet moments, Billie found solace in your laughter and your gentle teasing, the way you’d roll your eyes when she tried to show you the latest music video she’d shot. You brought her back to reality, reminding her that beneath the glitz and glam, she was still just Billie—flawed, messy, and utterly human.

Year 2:

Fast forward to a year later, and Billie settled into her chair with a sense of ease. The nerves were still there, but they were accompanied by a confidence she hadn’t had before. It was as if being with you had given her the strength to embrace both her vulnerability and her power.

“Last year, you mentioned being in a relationship. How’s that going?” the interviewer asked, a knowing smile on their face.

Billie leaned forward, her excitement bubbling over. “It’s going really well. We’ve been together for over a year now.” The words felt like a promise, a declaration of her love.

“It’s been… transformative. She gets me in a way that no one else does. We balance each other out.” Billie’s voice softened as she thought of you—the way you listened without judgment, the way your fingers entwined with hers felt like home.

The memories flooded her mind: lazy Sundays spent wrapped in each other’s arms, your gentle touch as you brushed your fingers through her hair while you both watched the rain fall outside. In those moments, she could forget about the world and simply exist.

“She’s my best friend,” Billie added, her smile widening. “We support each other through everything. It’s a beautiful thing.”

Year 3:

A year later, Billie felt like she was living a dream. Three years together felt like a significant milestone, and she couldn’t shake the feeling that this was just the beginning. As she settled into the familiar chair, she could sense the anticipation in the air.

“So, Billie, how is your relationship evolving?” the interviewer prompted.

Billie couldn’t hide her grin. “We’ve grown so much together. It’s like… every day brings us closer. She’s been my rock, especially during some tough times.” Her heart swelled with gratitude for you.

Billie reflected on the challenges she faced in her career—the pressures, the expectations—and how you had been there through it all. When the world felt heavy, you’d remind her to breathe, to take a step back and enjoy the little moments. Whether it was cooking dinner together or simply sitting in silence, your presence was grounding.

“She makes me laugh like no one else,” Billie continued, her eyes lighting up. “We can be completely silly together, and it just feels… right. It’s like we have our own little world.”

Year 4:

By the fourth year, Billie was no longer shy about discussing her love life. Sitting across from the interviewer, she felt an undeniable sense of peace.

“You’ve been together for four years now. How has that changed you?” they asked.

Billie took a deep breath, her heart fluttering as she thought of you. “It’s changed everything,” she admitted. “I’ve learned so much about love, commitment, and what it means to truly support someone.”

She recalled nights spent talking until dawn, sharing dreams and fears, and how those conversations had strengthened their bond. You understood her in a way that made her feel seen and valued. In your eyes, she wasn’t just an artist; she was Billie—the girl who loved music, who adored quiet evenings, and who could get lost in a good book.

“We’ve talked about the future,” Billie said, her voice softening. “I think we both want the same things. It’s exciting.” The thought of building a life with you filled her with joy.

Year 5:

Now, as she sat in the chair for the fifth year, Billie felt a deep sense of contentment. The world around her continued to spin wildly, but with you by her side, everything felt manageable.

The interviewer leaned in, their expression curious. “After five years together, what’s your biggest takeaway?”

Billie smiled, her heart swelling with love. “She’s my person. I can’t imagine my life without her. She’s been there through everything, and we’ve built something real, something lasting.”

Her mind raced through the memories: lazy mornings wrapped in blankets, deep conversations about life, and quiet nights filled with laughter. You were the one who saw her—who loved her flaws and all. You made her feel safe in a way she had never known before.

“She inspires me every day,” Billie continued, her eyes glistening with emotion. “Being with her makes me want to be better—not just as an artist, but as a person. I’m so grateful for her.”

As the interview wrapped up, Billie felt a rush of gratitude wash over her. You were more than just a girlfriend; you were her partner, her confidante, and the love of her life. In a world that often felt chaotic and overwhelming, you were her anchor.

And as she walked off set, Billie couldn’t wait to tell you about the day, about how much you meant to her, and how every moment spent with you felt like magic.

#billie eilish blurb #billie eilish fanfiction #billie eilish fic #billie eilish x fem!reader #billie eilish x reader #billie eilish x y/n #billie eilish x you #billie eilish fluff #billie eilish imagine

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joelscruff · 1 year ago

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wait (boyfriend's dad!joel x f!reader) 18+

first and foremost! this is part of my boyfriend's dad!joel series and takes place after "words". this won't really make sense if you haven't read that one! it's so crazy to me how this started out as a silly little smutty drabble and somehow became this. this one's kind of heavy (read the warnings!!) but i promise that things won't stay this angsty forever. at its root this story is supposed to be smutty and fun and i promise there will be more of that in the future. i hope you enjoy it and here's my kofi if you'd like to leave a tip 💕 summary: it's been a month since your boyfriend discovered your relationship with his father and a month since you've seen joel. it's starting to take its toll. rating: 18+ explicit warnings: daddy kink, unprotected p in v sex, sexting, comeplay, angst, allusions to past trauma, shitty family dynamics (addiction & verbal abuse), panic attacks word count: 3.2k

i miss you

it's the only thing you've thought about texting him for about a month, a text you always type out and then erase a few moments later. it's something you swore to yourself that you wouldn't do no matter how lonely you got. he'd said he needed time, and you want to give it to him. and yet here you are, leaning against the window of your bus home from community college with tears in your eyes, phone in hand, wanting nothing more than to see him. selfish.

it's been one of the loneliest periods of your life. you've known loneliness, felt it throughout most of your childhood, through your adolescence, it's nothing new. but with joel you'd finally begun to feel whole again, like you actually mattered to someone. he looked forward to seeing you, to holding you, being with you. you'd never felt so desired and loved and protected in your whole life.

now you're back to having nothing, no one. it's a harsh reality you're forcing yourself to accept. you still haven't heard anything from your boyfriend - now ex, of course, though there was never any official breakup - and even that's a punch to the gut, an added depth to a loss that you caused.

he's hurting, i hurt him, joel's words repeat in your head. it breaks your heart that he's feeling so guilty, that he feels that he caused this entire thing when it's really your fault. if you weren't such a mess of a person, such a broken human being, the whole thing wouldn't have even happened to begin with. what kind of person sleeps with their boyfriend's father? starts a relationship with him? calls him daddy?

you know you caused this and yet you can't help but miss him so much. it's like he's ingrained himself into your bones somehow, his touch tattooed into your skin. he's all you think about, dream about. you miss being in his embrace, being held by him, whispering daddy in his ear and feeling understood, not judged. you miss his gentle kisses to your nose, the safety of his lap, his arms around your trembling form while he fucked you, took you, made you his.

you stare at the unsent text message and inevitably find yourself scrolling back up to a previous conversation from a few months back, short and simple. texting was never a frequent medium for the two of you, more-so used for you to send him dirty pictures every so often to tease him a bit. you briefly look at the picture, a close-up shot of your bare pussy with some of his come leaking out; absolutely filthy.

still have u inside me daddy

oh baby, so messy. what am I gonna do with you?

you smile at the silliness of it all, the filthiness, but it quickly fades when you remember the reality of the situation again, the fact that your boyfriend had read joel's messages, had definitely seen these texts in particular. he'd called joel a sick man. you don't agree, but you can understand why; if you'd seen a text interaction like this between your own father and a girl half his age... you'd probably have a similar reaction - though the concept of your father showing a woman any affection in the first place is alien in itself.

your bus pulls up to the stop near your house and you get off, slipping your phone back into your pocket and hiking your backpack over your shoulder as you go. it's only a short walk to your house, no more than three minutes, though you usually try to make it a bit longer to delay the inevitable disaster of your home life.

you take it one step at a time, slowly walking down the darkening street with fresh tears in your eyes. god, you're so lonely. you don't want to go home, don't want to be accosted by your alcoholic father and avoidant mother, your asshole brother who never gives you a break. it's so damn depressing in that house; when you'd first gotten together with your boyfriend you'd been so relieved to finally have somewhere else to go that wasn't school or home, another reason you'd stayed with him for so long despite the relationship being doomed. you should have known it couldn't last.

you'd told joel everything. it's hard to believe sometimes that the connection you shared was strong enough for you to trust him with some of your darkest secrets, the worst things from your past. he knows all about your family, all about what you've been through, had listened to you quietly and earnestly as you cried into his shoulder about the hand life had dealt you. he'd rubbed your back, kissed your forehead, whispered it's okay, and i'm here now, and i'm gonna take care of you, sweetheart. and he did. he did take care of you. he'd done everything right and somehow you still managed to fuck it up.

the lights are on in the house when you arrive at the front gate, though the car is missing from the driveway; this only means that your mother is out late tonight, probably staying with a friend or a lover or whoever she turns to when shit gets bad. you can't blame her - you'd done the exact same thing when you'd actually had somewhere to go - but part of you still aches for that little girl inside you that needs her, wishes she was inside waiting for you, though it's not like she'd do much to help.

your father is definitely home, probably your brother as well. you stand at the gate, gripping the strap of your backpack and deliberating even bothering to go inside. you know you'll be accosted at the front door by either a drunken tirade or bitter argument. it's a no-win situation no matter how you look at it. your phone buzzes in your pocket and you pull it out, grateful for one last brief distraction.

i miss you too, angel. so much.

your eyes go wide, heart stuttering in your chest as you stare at the words.

"fuck," you breathe, "fuck, fuck fuck," you quickly scroll up to confirm your fears - the i miss you text, the one you always erase, the one you make sure to never send - you'd somehow sent it this time, entirely by mistake.

tears are stinging your eyes as you turn on the spot and start walking back and forth in front of your house, running your hand through your hair in disbelief while you stare at joel's text. you fucking idiot. what the fuck have you done? what happened to giving him space? you stupid fucking bitch. you absolute loser. you're suddenly berating yourself the exact same way you know your father and brother will berate you if you go in the house now. you can already picture it - them seeing your tear stained cheeks, the puffiness of your eyes, the words they'll throw at you to hurt you even more, make you feel small.

fucking bitch. fucking loser. fucking idiot.

your breathing is becoming more and more erratic the longer you pace. you can't go in now, not after this, not after seeing that he misses you too and being so fucking close yet so far away. all you can suddenly think about is all those wasted moments at his house, spending so much time with your asshole boyfriend when you could have been with joel, been loved instead of tossed aside like garbage.

god, if you could only hear his voice. if you could just talk to him for one minute before you have to go into this godforsaken hellhole.

before you even fully understand what you're doing, you're hitting the call button and bringing the phone up to your ear.

he answers on the first ring.

"h-"

"i can't do this anymore," you gasp out through a sob, not even bothering to let him say anything, "joel, i can't do it, i miss you so fucking much it hurts."

"babygirl," he breathes, voice rough and deep and gorgeous and familiar, sweet like honey in your ear, "where are you? are you okay?"

and that's enough to break you.

you feel the tears begin to stream down your face, hot and unrelenting. you shake your head even though he can't see you, throat bobbing through repetitive gasps, "no, i'm not okay," you blubber, "da- fuck, joel, i- i can't do this, i can't be by myself anymore. i'm - " you don't even know where this is coming from, voice muddled, "i'm so lonely. i can't do it anymore, i can't. please, i can't."

he makes a devastating sound at your words, something between a sob and a gasp, "where are you?" he repeats, voice full of concern, "where are you, baby? i'm gonna come get you."

"the bus stop by my house," you manage to tell him through your tears, reaching the little bench and situating yourself on it without an ounce of hesitation, "i was- i was gonna go home but," another sob rips through your throat, "but they're home and i- i can't- i can't take it anymore, joel. i don't wanna be there anymore, i can't be there."

"you stay where you are, you hear me?" you can hear movement on the other line, the rattle of keys, footsteps, "don't go home, babygirl, i'm comin'. i'll be there in ten minutes."

"okay," you whisper, trying to catch your breath, "okay."

"deep breaths, baby, remember?" and you do remember; he'd taught you some exercises to help in situations like this, when you feel like the world is falling apart around you and you're just getting smaller and smaller, disappearing into nothingness. he'd held your hands while you'd sat in his lap, eyes closed as you both matched each other's breathing, melted into one another. "in and out, babygirl, that's it. real slow, count for me."

"i r-remember," you manage to hiccup, squeezing your chest with your other hand and trying to ground yourself.

the wait is excruciating, no matter how short, and no matter the fact that joel is on the other end trying to calm you. you sit on the bench with a hand on your heart and the other on your stomach, listening to joel count to five over and over, phone upturned on your thigh.

"big breath in. one...two...three...four...five," he says through the muffled sounds of traffic and wind, "big breath out. one...two...three...four...five." over and over and over again, "i'm turnin' the corner, baby, i'm almost there," he says after about ten minutes of this, "you see me, honey?"

you look up to find his headlights, getting brighter and brighter as they approach. you shakily sit up from the bench, breath coming out much less erratic now, "y-yes," you whisper.

seconds later the car is pulling up in front of you and he's jumping out, not even bothering to shut the door behind him as he dashes around it. it's been so long since you've seen him that it's jarring to suddenly have him in front of you, sprinting toward your small and shaking form with his jacket undone, shoes mismatched, glasses askew. you catch a glimpse of his expression, concerned and upset - are those tears? - before he scoops you up into his arms and pulls you in close to him.

"i'm here," he tells you, voice rumbling through his chest against your cheek, solid and warm, "i'm here now, babygirl, you're okay. you're okay."

and somehow you are.

"i'm sorry," is all you can say to him as he drives you to his house, hand holding yours tightly the whole way, "i'm such an idiot, i'm so sorry."

"stop saying that," he repeats for maybe the fourth time, shaking his head and squeezing your hand even more firmly, "you're not an idiot and you have nothing to be sorry about."

you really are okay now, breaths calm and tears not even flowing anymore. instead the guilt and shame and humiliation have taken over, sinking into your skin as you lean back in the passenger seat with your hood pulled up, hiding your face from him.

"i was giving you space," you mutter, "i didn't even mean to text you, it was an accident. i was being stupid, as usual."

"stop it," he says again, "stop being mean to yourself."

you close your eyes and face away from him, "easier said than done."

the two of you drive in silence for a few moments, that is until he asks, "have you eaten?" and you say, "no."

he buys you mcdonalds and doesn't let go of your hand.

the house hasn't changed. you hadn't really expected it to; it's not like it's been that long since you were last here. you don't bother even sneaking a peek at your ex boyfriend's bedroom as joel leads you upstairs, curiosity nonexistent.

you're not sure why you expect him to take you into his office, maybe sit on the couch with you and talk. to your surprise he leads you straight past the door, down the hallway to what you can only assume is his bedroom - a place you've never been in all your months of being with him.

"sit down," he tells you softly as he opens the door, pulling you slowly inside and nodding toward the queen sized bed, "i'll get you something to wear."

"okay," you breathe, barely looking at him as you examine the room in front of you, large but cozy, cool colors but a warm atmosphere, framed music posters and blueprints covering the walls - exactly what you'd expect from someone like joel. you shuffle forward and drop your bag at the end of his bed, sitting on the edge of it while he goes to his dresser.

you end up in one of his sleep shirts and a pair of his underwear, loving the feeling of being his again, even if neither of you have actually talked about what exactly this means for your relationship. he helps you change, tugging off your worn-out jeans and the same shirt you've worn for three days in a row, pressing a kiss to your forehead as he pulls off your panties and replaces them with his boxers. it's not sexual, but part of you still longs to pull him on top of you, just feel his weight, smell his cologne.

he pulls back the duvet and helps you climb inside onto your stomach, rubbing your arms and shoulders and releasing some of the tension you've been feeling for the past month. you feel him press another kiss to the back of your neck, pushing your hair out of the way and stroking it gently, giving you all the care and attention you've been aching for. his hands are so big, so comforting and safe, touching you everywhere without any expectations or underlying motive.

"i missed you, daddy," you whisper against his pillow, not sure if he can even hear you, even more unsure whether it's okay to use that word anymore.

he doesn't reply right away, still kneading his thumbs into the base of your back and massaging you gently. you hear him inhale and exhale deeply a few times, like he's biding time while he figures out what to say.

"sorry," you wince, "joel."

he releases you then, helps you turn over so you're on your back and peering up at him with uncertainty. he sits on the edge of the bed and reaches down to thumb your cheek, eyes sad and tired.

"i wanna be that for you, sweetheart," he murmurs, brow furrowing, "i do. i want it more than you even realize," he takes a breath, biting down on his lip briefly, "i just... i need you to tell me somethin'. be honest with me now."

your heart skips a beat, "what?"

"when you said you loved me..." his voice breaks a bit and you ache to reach for him, cup his cheek and hold him close, "was it because of what we've been doin'?" he seems to reassess his words, shaking his head slightly, "i mean, did it...did you actually mean it? or was it... was it just part of the game?"

you stare at him for a few seconds, lips parting and eyes going slightly wide. without a second thought you do exactly what you'd just been thinking about, reaching up to place your hand against his face, feeling his scruff beneath your palm. he leans in and takes a breath, peering into your eyes with a yearning you can't describe, can only feel.

you shake your head slowly, "joel," you whisper, "it's never been a game."

his eyes close, stuttering out another breath when your thumb strokes his cheek soothingly. unable to hold back anymore, you lean up to capture his mouth in a soft kiss, sweet and tender and familiar. his hand finds the back of your head, pulls you closer, claims you again.

he fucks you slow.

it's never been like this, never has he fucked you the way he fucks you now. you barely speak, just moan and whimper and sigh and melt into each other the way you've never truly been able to, not without prying ears and a time limit hanging over your heads. your hands tangle in his hair while he hits that deep spot inside you, holds you close, buries his face in your neck and breathes you in, pounds into you relentlessly like you'll both come apart at the seams if he lets go.

you're biting it back, trying not to say it as much as you desperately want to, still unsure if this is really want he wants. just tell me what to do and i'll do it. i don't care, i'm yours. he looks into your eyes and you can't help but start crying again, overwhelmed by the warmth of him, the safety. he thumbs your tears and kisses them away.

"say it," he murmurs to you as you both near your inevitable release, the tension building and building as he grabs your face with both hands and fucks you with purpose, with passion, "say it, babygirl, tell me."

you shake your head, suddenly self conscious, suddenly afraid. the feelings from earlier tonight rise back in your chest, making a home in the back of your throat as a sob threatens to rip through it.

"it's okay," he whispers, voice trembling with the speed of his thrusts, "it's okay, honey, i wanna hear you say it," he furrows his brow and releases a groan, so close to the edge, "please, baby, say it. need you to say it."

you pull him close, grip his back, press your lips to his ear, "daddy."

he groans, dark and rough, "that's it," he murmurs, "that's it baby, i'm your daddy. that's right." he pulls back to look at you, eyes meeting yours in a passionate gaze that lasts forever, "say it again."

"daddy," you whine, unable to unlock your eyes from his, lip trembling as you submit entirely to him, "feels so good, daddy."

there's something in his expression you can't place, something in his words that reverberates in your brain like a pinball. say it again... you realize it means more than you'd initially thought. he's not just asking you to say one word - he's asking for three.

"i love you," you cry out just as he presses his thumb to your clit, pushes you over the edge, "i love you."

he comes just as you do, an animalistic sound tearing from his throat as your fingers scramble for purchase at his back, holding him impossibly close to the point where his entire body weight is on top of you, but you don't care. all you can feel is the way his heart beats against your chest, the way his gasps match yours, finding the same rhythm.

you lay there still for what feels like eternity, joel laying on top of you with his cock still deep inside and his forehead pressed against your shoulder. your tears have stopped but you feel the dampness of his own on your skin, hear the gasp he lets out as he sets his emotions free.

"i love you too," he whispers in your ear, breath hot and quick, voice wrecked, "god, i love you so much."

for the first time, you stay the night.

#joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #*#fic: bd!joel

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erika-xero · 6 months ago

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Thoughts on ai and Art

What has Ai really changed for me is the perception of my own art. Years back, I was extremely concerned of my work being imperfect: everything had to look "right", the anatomy had to be flawless, the lines - clean and refined. The pipe-line had to be flawless too: minimal amount of layers, one - for lines, one - for colors, and a few for lighting/shading.

Meanwhile I was yearning for chaos and the standard pipe-line felt too strict, too limiting. I finished the drawing and cried over the imperfections, but I could not let myself create a new layer and just paint it all over as I wanted to - that would "mess up my perfect psd". This was even harder because I started as a traditional artist and traditional art is basically the same as drawing on one layer or stacking the layers on top of each other whenever you wish to change anything. I was so obsessed with the anatomy/perspective looking right that my works started looking boring and stiff. If I was not sure that I would be able to draw a certain body part at a certain angle ANATOMICALLY PERFECT - I just refused to draw it at all. Drawing back then was HARD. I forced too much limitations upon myself, I was so scared of making any mistakes and thus did everything I could to avoid the risk to fail. It felts like an entire world would see me failing and everyone - literally everyone - will disapprove. And don't get me wrong - the art community in my country has always been astonishingly toxic. We had, like, a group of 20 THOUSANDS individuals hunting down children online and bullying them into oblivion for drawing anime and furry characters in their school textbooks. And pretty much everyone except a small group of people (which I was a part of) thought that it's absolutely fine and this is how the things should be. Even the industry professionals were absolutely sure that young artists have to suffer and be ashamed of everything they do unless it is absolutely flawless at an any aspect. I was ashamed of everything I did back then. I was ashamed of drawing and posting sketches because I felt like they are not good enough to be shown to anyone. And then the Ai-boom started. And I had mixed feelings because I was not THAT scared, but I was somewhat disappointed of people? General public praised the generated slop ignoring the mistakes far worse than what real artists got bullied for for DECADES. The synthetic artworks are shiny. They are overrendered. They are liveless, boring, they lack fundamentals and yet somehow people viewed them as some kind of a miracle. I decided to learn how does those little machines generated their slop out of morbid curiosity, just to make sure that I got it right and it is spitting out cadavers created from mutilated, dismembered works of real artists. Used by people who did not care enough to pick up a bloody pencils. And I thought: why would I care enough to look at something that no one bothered to create? And then I started seeing everything I do completely different. I suddenly stopped caring of being perfect. Every piece I have ever done, every work I was crying over for it being ugly, every messy sketch and unfinished doodle suddenly started to matter a lot. Not that I stopped caring of doing my best, no. I stopped wishing to disown my own mistakes. They are my own. I cared enough to try and fail and to try again, and fail so badly that I wanted to cry, scream and throw up. And I repeated the cycle for long enough that I started to enjoy my silly doodles and started loving every tiny imperfection because this is what made my art so human. I still suck at drawing hands and feet. My line-art is messy and I started doing it right on top of my colored sketch. My pipe-line is in chaos and my PSDs look like a total mess of three hundreds of layers. I draw sketches with huge-ass round brush only adding the details that really matters. My works are better than they could ever be because they feel alive and chaotic as we human had always been. This is a love letter to my art and write it while flipping off my middle finger to the cadavers generated by the machine. I will not be stopped by glorified autocomplete and I refuse to be outdone by people who confuse googling an image with the act of creation.

My worst drawing is better than any of the generative imagery out there, because I cared drawing it.

#ai art is not art #anti ai #love letter to myself #i love art #artist on tumblr

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thehandsresisthim · 5 months ago

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“bdsm headcanons - Johnny “Soap” MacTavish”

contains: discussion of bdsm, dom/sub relationship, sub!soap, dom!gn!reader

word count: ~700

brat or obedient?

⋆｡♡ ˚ yeah he’s the brattiest little bitch. at least at the start of a scene.

⋆｡♡ ˚ johnny’s always all excited, and trying to provoke you.

⋆｡♡ ˚ this is what he likes about being dommed - testing your limits, then being put in his place.

⋆｡♡ ˚ at first, whenever you two start something, he criticises almost everything you do in a mocking manner, or in a questioning tone.

⋆｡♡ ˚ you grab a paddle to punish him with? “hey! why don’t you just spank me with your hands?”

⋆｡♡ ˚ you get out a pair of handcuffs for him? “i look way better in rope, you know, master.”

⋆｡♡ ˚ when he acts like a brat, he loves it when you kinda… don’t take him seriously. just mockingly scoff and go “silly johnny. that’s not a good idea at all.”

⋆｡♡ ˚ loves, loves, loves the condescending tone. he kinda has a thing for getting talked down to. he loves to know that you’re in charge now - and, in play, everything is your choice.

⋆｡♡ ˚ once you punish him and mock him, he finally drops the brat act.

kinks and limits:

⋆｡♡ ˚ he loves being degraded. for example, johnny drools a fuckton when he is being overstimulated (which is another thing he likes) - and he is a very happy man when you mock him about that. “aww, look, my dumb little puppy can’t control himself, drooling all over himself, huh?” or “i wonder, does your cock or your mouth leak more?”

⋆｡♡ ˚ puppy play. yeah, he’s ready to wear a collar and a leash, but he’s also not opposed to being muzzled. put him in a cage when he’s bad. (whether that be a human-sized cage or one for his cock)

⋆｡♡ ˚ overstimulation is another thing, ideally mixed with bondage - use your hands or a toy on his leaky, sensitive cock and he’s writhing around, unsure if he wants to get away from your touch or if he wants more.

⋆｡♡ ˚ once you've corrected his behaviour, he appreciates some praise. even better when it sounds like you're talking to a dog, all “who's my good boy? my very, very best boy? yes… yes, it's my good Johnny!! good boy!!”

⋆｡♡ ˚ i mentioned it earlier too, but he likes the idea of wearing a cock cage. like i said, he's a huge fucking brat, and it keeps him in line. at least for a while.

⋆｡♡ ˚ okay so this last one of his preferences isn't really a kink but the guy loves to orally please you. makes it messy too - loves, loves, loves having your… fluids all over his face. goes insane when you praise him whilst he does it.

⋆｡♡ ˚ he does have a few limits, however:

-> doesn't care much for more extreme pain. no cbt for him, please.

-> okay i can't really explain why but i feel like he dislikes temperature play. johnny always runs hot (the guy is your personal space heater, always warm to cuddle with) and whether you just use wax or just ice, or use other means to quickly switch between hot and cold sensations - it overwhelms him and makes him uncomfortable.

-> hates being ignored as a punishment. i headcanon him as always being overexcited and a bit loud as a kid, and sometimes he'd get ignored when people got tired of him. it still makes him feel genuinely insecure, so he wouldn't be okay with you doing it as a punishment.

aftercare:

⋆｡♡ ˚ i think it always takes a bit for him to get out of subspace. he enjoys spending time with you, when he's in subspace, in a non-sexual context.

⋆｡♡ ˚ probably enjoys, after getting cleaned up a bit, just lying down on your chest as he still wears his collar and you run your fingers through his hair.

⋆｡♡ ˚ big cuddler.

⋆｡♡ ˚ he's usually not that exhausted after a scene, so he can do at least some of the physical aftercare himself. still, he likes it better when you're there with him and help him.

⋆｡♡ ˚ usually gives a little feedback on the scene immediately after, something like “tha’ was good”, but the real feedback comes a few hours later or the next day, depending on when you guys did the scene.

⋆｡♡ ˚ big on communication. wants to make sure you are always comfortable. he can be a very bratty sub, but he worries about being overwhelming or annoying.

thank you for reading! check out my masterlist for more fics ❤️ - and here’s the same bdsm headcanon thing for ghost (this one is for fem!readers only, sry)

#cod smut #cod soap #dom reader #sub character #sub!character #gn reader #cod x gn!reader #john soap mactavish #soap x reader #soap call of duty #soap x you #soap x y/n #sub soap #sub!soap #sub cod

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nothomegal · 1 year ago

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Broo please Hear me out.. how would y/n react to pyramid Head/pyra giving them a paper flower??

(i bet pyra saw some survivor make a paper flower and just watched how they made it so he could make one for you cause like there's no actual flowers in silent hill)

Aww that's so sweet! Hope you don't mind if I respond with a lil' fic instead of a messy doodle 😅 I just have so many things to say!

"Little flower"

(Pyramid Head x GN Reader)

Warnings: none, just fluff!

World count: 1.6k

—"What you're thinking about, big guy?"—

The voice of his human awokened the monster out if his erratic state. By the look on (Y/N)'s face, it seems like they've been trying to get his attention for a little while.

—“Is everything alright?"—

He let out a short metallic clank and nodded ones.

—“Just zoned out I see.”— you chuckle as you lean against his broad shoulder. —“I was daydreaming too, but had to stop when someone began to squeeze me a bit too much."— you add.

Squeeze-? Oh, right. The beast was currently walking through a corridor of the building they've unofficially turned into their home. Only that, Pyra was the one moving. (Y/N) meanwhile was being carried by the monster, their body effortlessly supported and held closely by one massive arm of their lover, whose grip was a bit too tight at that moment.

The two of them were silent most of the walk, just enjoying the presence of the other one. But the quietness was interrupted when (Y/N) softly hummed.

—"Have I ever told you you're very handsome?"— you playfully say as you look at his pyramid shaped helmet.

(Y/N) couldn't hide their grin, not when their lover lowered his head down as if he got flustered. Only when a small giggle escaped them is when Pyra squeezed them against himself, causing them to laugh instead.

—"Alright alright, I get it. No saying pretty things about the big scary Pyramid Head."—

Pyra doesn't react to their comment, at first. But soon a quiet little growl would slip from inside his helmet as he moves it to then gently nuzzle one of the edges against them. (Y/N) giggles again, and responds to the gesture by running one hand along the rough metallic surface of their lover's head.

Pyra's been acting very clingy since he had returned. A few hours prior he had left abrubtly, leaving his little human all confused. Despite being a tag startled, (Y/N) wasn’t too concerned, probably his duty as an executioner and punisher of Silent Hill calling. But imagine their surprise that when as soon as he came back, instead of a usual greeting like nuzzling his helmet against them or licking their cheek, the monster simply yoinked them up and began to walk with them in his arms.

The whole time their walk lasted, (Y/N) couldn't stop thinking about what Pyra could have in mind. They've been his for a long time already and know that things never happen out of the blue with him, there is always some sort a reason for everything he does. Though some could be quite... Silly or small, maybe straight up petty. (like when they were 'too tolerant' with a Creeper, a fucking bug. Jeez they probably were carried and manhandled like a rag-doll for a week-)

They zone back in when Pyra suddenly stops and gently sets them back on their feet. (Y/N) eyes the room curiously, but it seemed to have nothing out of the ordinary or special, just another abandoned room of Silent Hill.

—"So... You want to chill in here for..."—

Their voice quietens when the beast suddenly sticks the sword into the floor and stalks towards one of the few furnitures the room had. (Y/N) observes him in silence, curiosuty slowly morphing in confussion when they witness their lover open and take something from the inside. Huh? Okay... That's something new.

And the silence remains even when the monster turns back and begins to make his way towards them.

The executioner is known for his brutality and determination, never backing away or leaving his victim be, always hunting them down and providing the scariest of the punishments...

This is how everyone viewed him. Viewed it.

(Y/N)? They already seen a side of him that no mortal or creature could ever imagine, but it seems like such side had corners yet to reveal.

When close enough, Pyra reaches for (Y/N)'s hand and brings it towards himself, their palm facing up. Then, he places...

—"...!?"—

(Y/N)'s breath shakes a little and eyes wide when they see what was placed on their hand.

Flowers. Paper flowers.

The time seemed to freeze and reality fade away. (Y/N) couldn't believe their eyes. Pyra... Pyramid Head himself, just gave them a gift?...

They take in the apparence of said gift. The flowers weren't perfect, more like a bunch of scrunched paper shaped the best it can be into a flower. But even if the result wasn't the most perfect, the effort and care put into these was reflected... Wait, did...

(Y/N) slowly drags their gaze towards the monster, who was standing in front of them completely still.

...Did he made these?

...For them?

The silence was suffocating. (Y/N) remained frozen in place, their eyes now directed again to the flowers but their gaze seemed lost. The beast remained just as still, even his breathing got quieter.

Pyra is known for his steel composure. He never experienced anything like fear or anxiety. If anything, he is the sourse of these. But now? Now he's probably feeling something of this for the first time of his existence. Was that a bad decision? Did he reopened the already scarred wounds by reminding (Y/N) of the real world and the fact that they've been gone for so long? That they will never return to see the real flowers and life without him going absolutelly ballistic about it?

Maybe it is, maybe it was a bad idea... But the attempt was worth it, right?... They always observed the few pictures and paintings of nature with such fond eyes, trying to take in and store that little piece of landscape into their memory. They always showed particular likeness to flowers, sometimes drawing those and commenting which are their favorites. He never really got the point of these though, but (Y/N) liked them so it had to be important.

Only when he witnessed some unfortunate newcomer making some using paper, is when he really started to think about it. And after seeing how (Y/N) perked up when they saw yet another landscape drawing, something just snapped inside of him and he knew he had to take action.

And now, seeing how still his human is, he really began to second guess his decision. They must be dissapointed with the results, he had to try harder and be more careful... But it's so damn hard to fold the paper without breaking it with these damn huge hands of his-.

The sudden sensation of arms wrapping tightly around his waist pulled the monster out of his thoughts. Pyra tilts his helmet down, looking at (Y/N), who's face was hidden in his chest. Their shoulders would shake at times and a muffled huff would come out... Are... Arethey sobbing?

Pyra of course tensed, clearly affected by seeing his lover cry. But when (Y/N) lifted their head and looked up at him...

—"Thank you... Thank you so much...!"—

Yes, there were tears in their eyes... And so the shine of absolute hapiness and gratitude, so pure that it resembled the eyes of an angel, at least to him.

—"I-... It's just-..."— you let out a small chuckle as you struggle to put your thoughts and emotions into words. —"It's just... No one ever did something so... So loving and special for me."—

(Y/N) falls silent again as they snuggle closer to Pyra, most likely realizing that no ammount of words could express just how thankful they were. As they're clinging to their lover like a lifeline, they feel his body slowly relax and then contract just enough for him to wrap his arms around their form, hugging them back.

They stayed like this for a good ammount of minutes, just holding each other while (Y/N) spoke time to time, gifting Pyra with their lovely voice and more gratitude. It's a small thing, yes, but for (Y/N) is huge. Especially because a creature who never even concerned itself with such silly meaningless things like flowers made it, putting its time and effort into the gift for them.

When it became clear that the snuggles wouldn't end anytime soon, (Y/N)'s body is suddenly lifted into the air and swung over a shoulder to then be carried towards the closest wall. Despite being manhandled, (Y/N) couldn't stop smiling and would often giggle as they're transported like a sack of potatos. It's a bit of a contrast with the usual gentleness their partner handles them. But hey, Pyra's allowed to have some fun too!

They're both soon settled down, embracing each other once again. Pyra sitting and leaning against the wall while (Y/N) is cofortably nestled on his lap and against his chest. They observe the paper flowers, fingers carefully tracing along the imperfect petals that they're looking at with such love-filled eyes.

—"They're beautuful, really. You're very talented."—

A small rumbling groan escapes from Pyra's helmet as he tights his grip around them.

—"I'm serious! You're an amazing artist!"— you exclaim. —"Just look! Your hands and strenght have the triple of my size and power yet you still managed to make it look like a flower! Bet If I tried to make one it would end up looking like some cursed paper mess."—

He groans, clearly disagreeing with their statement. (Y/N) simply sighs with a giggle.

—"If you don't believe me then we could try to make some more later."— you cassually comment.

Pyra remains quiet, thinking. Eventually he makes a noise and dips his head in a small nod, agreeing with the suggestion. (Y/N) smiles, their eyes sparkling with excitement and joy, as genuine as from a little kid.

The monster would definitely smile if he had a face for it. He haven't seen (Y/N) this bright and alive ever since they realized their feelings for each other are mutual.

Looks like his assumptions were right, flowers indeed are important for his human if it made them feel like this.

To be honest...

He kinda likes them too now.

#nothomegal ask reply #nothomegal fic #pyramid head #pyramid head x reader #gn reader #pyramid head x y/n #slasher fluff

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aaaangel444 · 22 days ago

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i always joked with my mom about the fact that the right man for me is probably 5’8 and i’d never meet him because i wouldnt give him a chance (im 5’10). at the beginning of the year i decided to “like” a really attractive man from hinge even though he was shorter than me. I thought why the hell not. this year is for jumping out of my comfort zone anyways.

Months later we met up and he soon became my favourite human to spend time with. fun nights out, silly stupid conversations full of laughter. I was more myself around him than i had ever been with anyone. ever.

I thought nothing would come of this so i used the opportunity to act without care. There was no image i was trying to create, i showed up as myself everytime because he didn’t make me question it even for a second. If im being honest it was enough to ward off most men - I over shared and said everything on my mind, called him out of the blue (once with my family on my mothers birthday because i was drunk). I made him unlock his back door while he was on vacation and filled his house with miniature duck figurines one time as well lol. He taught me how to have fun again.

Everyone around me saw it before i did. The way i spoke about him gave away the feelings i had before i even knew about them. One day we were walking down the street and he held my hand and it all changed for me. That same week he showed up during our conversations in a way that made me rethink everything.

He SEES me. I have always had people enjoy the idea of me, but not who i was down to my core. This man genuinely enjoys ME. People talk about how amazing it is to date your best friend. I thought i had in the past. Never. ever. have i experienced something as incredible as this.

I am dating my best friend. He’s intelligent, SO GOD DAMN FUNNY, understanding. We are both messy and caring and like Dairy Queen onion rings.

i just feel so lucky to have this man in my life. He’s changed so much for me

TLDR: date outside your usual type and give yourself the opportunity to love in a way you never have.

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knightsbrig · 6 months ago

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I’ve been having some thoughts about a Demon!Kyojuro AU, and most of the art I’ve made on it has been some pretty light-hearted akaren stuff, but I actually have a lot of complicated thoughts about Demon!Kyojuro, and I think it’s actually a really interesting concept because of what we know about demons in KNY.

Demons are often perversions of the human that they once were. We see this with Hakuji, how he forgot all of his love and care for those close to him, how the only thing he was left with was rage and violence. We see this with Daki, how she embraced the cruelty and vanity of being a being a demon after she forgot her troubled past. We see this even with demons like Kyogai and Rui, who both discard the people and things they were passionate for in favor of a twisted desire for acceptance. They’re broken people who don’t remember why they’re broken, and their every negative and selfish impulse is encouraged.

So… how does this apply to Kyojuro?

Well, I can’t see him becoming a sadist, or actively enjoying the act of inflicting harm on people, but this isn’t to say that he’d be a ‘good’ demon like Nezuko.

He wakes up and has no idea who he is. A stranger with tattoos and fangs tells him he is a demon by the name of Rengoku Kyojuro, and some part of that doesn’t sound right.

Kyojuro struggles at first. The corpses that his tattooed companion brings him look awful, and yet they’re the most delicious things he’s ever eaten. He feels compelled to exclaim how tasty it is with every messy bite. Despite how wrong it first feels, he enjoys eating, and Akaza always tells him that this is simply what demons do. Kyojuro sees the logic, and supposes that he is a demon, and he that he does, in fact, enjoy it.

Still, even after Akaza gifts him a sword, a beautiful work of Akaza’s demonic flesh, he feels aimless. What is his purpose? He’s been told he will live forever, but he has not one idea what he’s supposed to do with all that time.

First, Kyojuro tries befriending some humans. It works very well. Through his travels, he rediscovers that humans are magnificent creatures, no matter what role they serve— be that a demon’s meal or a skilled artisan! There is no shame in dying to a demon. After all, it would be quite silly for a rabbit feel shame for being caught in the jaws of a fox.

Most demons, however, are hostile to Kyojuro when he first approaches. They try to fight him or command him to leave their turf through their clenched fangs. Kyojuro is not dissuaded easily. Every demon he encounters puts up a front of cruelty and violence, but Kyojuro refuses to believe that’s all there is to every other demon besides himself.

And he’s right. It takes great effort and greater consistency, but once he strips back the brutality, demons are much, much like humans. They have passions and carry hobbies. They yearn for certain connection and have goals of their own they strive towards— there’s so much potential in them, isn’t there? They have so many stories about the past, how they adapt, how they survive and learn. Their Blood Arts are all so unique, their mutations and skills so varied.

Kyojuro loves demons.

And when his friends start being beheaded? Kyojuro sees only one thing to do. He is a strong demon, and it is his responsibility to protect the weak.

#demon slayer #kny au #kny rengoku #kny kyojuro #kyojuro rengoku #character analysis #headcanon #demon!kyojuro #demon rengoku kyojuro

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skyward-floored · 4 months ago

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I wrote a little something with swamp Link... this was mostly an exercise to try and figure out his and Zelda’s characters a little more, and though I miiiiiight change a few things, I like how this turned out so I’m sharing it 👍 please enjoy the sillies

————————————————————

Zelda’s heart pounded as she ran across peaty grass and mud, dodging hanging moss and tall reeds.

Her foot abruptly sank into a deeper spot of mud, and Zelda yelped, pulling at her boot and soaking her skirts in muck in the process. The mud refused to give up her shoe no matter how hard she pulled, and when she heard an excited snarl, Zelda tore her foot free of it and kept running in her sock, her foot immediately soaked.

She felt like an idiot.

Why had she decided slipping away from her entourage for a few minutes would be okay? She’d just wanted a few minutes to herself, and gotten so absorbed in sketching a lovely pond she’d come across that she hadn’t seen the monsters until they were nearly upon her.

Now she was bolting through a swamp with no idea where she was going being chased by at least three bokoblins—

A root caught her foot and Zelda cried out as she fell, landing on the peaty ground with a squelch. She heard the monsters approaching, much too close for comfort, and twisted around, scrambling back against the trunk of a tree.

There was water on either side of her, greenish with all sorts of plants growing on and in it, dark and murky in other places. She’d inadvertently cornered herself, and Zelda could only watch as the monsters crept closer, slobbering grins on their faces.

The biggest one was only a few feet away now, and Zelda swallowed, heart beating like a drum as she braced herself against the tree. She would go down kicking at least.

Something made a strange noise, and Zelda glanced beside her, spotting a few bubbles rippling in the water below.

The fear already in her throat tightened even further, and Zelda looked frantically between the pond and the monsters stalking her, sure that something even worse was about to come from the water.

I shouldn’t have slipped away!

A shadow burst from the pond beside her with a tremendous splash, and Zelda shrieked, covering her head.

But instead of leaping on her like she thought it would, it rammed into one of the monsters, yelling wildly while doing so.

The bokoblin snarled and fought back, but the figure pulled out a dagger and began swiping and stabbing with it, purplish monster blood spraying through the air. The fight was hard to follow, all four combatants moving fast, and Zelda remained frozen at the base of the tree as a monster howled.

The strange figure easily took on the three monsters at once, stabbing and slashing and yelling all the while. It killed one and quickly moved on to the other two, fighting with a mix of hand-to-hand and the dagger that flashed silver in the dappled sunlight.

Zelda squinted. Wait... is that a..?

It was a mere matter of moments before all the monsters were dead, and the figure dusted its hands (hands! She was right! It was a Hylian!) off, replacing the dagger at its hip.

He, Zelda now saw, turned towards her and Zelda stared.

He was coated in an awful lot of grime, but he was Hylian, Zelda was almost totally sure. He even seemed to be about her age, though not very tall, and again, covered in muck. Long blondish hair hung loose and fell halfway in his face, still dripping from his abrupt exit from the pond.

And though he was covered in mud and plants and blood both monster and human, Zelda made out two grey-green eyes through it all, and a somewhat curious look.

He stepped closer to her, and Zelda stiffened. He had protected her from those monsters, but still. She was alone in a swamp with an armed and messy stranger, one who had just proven he could easily overpower multiple assailants.

But all he did was extend a hand towards her, a grin on his face.

“Those monsters are getting worse, huh? Well you don’t need to worry about them anymore,” he said cheerfully, quickly swiping some blood off his arm. “You okay?”

His voice was quiet, and had a lyrical quality to it, one Zelda hadn’t been expecting, and she gaped at him while her brain processed the words and the strange swamp man in front of her. It didn’t help things when she also noticed he wasn’t wearing anytging resembling a shirt, and Zelda’s face went pink.

Then she remembered he’d asked her a question.

“Oh, I-I’m,” Zelda squeaked, then drew in a shaking breath, trying to reign in her pounding heart. That had been way too close. “Y-yes. I’m... I’m okay. Are you?”

“Oh yeah, this is nothing,” the teenager shrugged, looking at the scratch on his arm. “I’ve had worse.”

Zelda didn’t doubt that.

She hesitantly took his offered hand, slimy and wet as it looked, but her gloves did a good job of blocking that. His grip was firm but gentle as he helped her up, and Zelda cleared her throat as she released his hand. Her face felt hot, but she would blame that on the adrenaline from her chase and certainly not anything else.

“I’m sorry if I disturbed you,” she apologized, dropping a quick curtsy. It wasn’t too shaky, which she counted as a success, though the swamp man tilted his head at the gesture, looking a bit confused.

“Nah, not really,” he shrugged. “I was on the lookout for monsters anyway, you led them right to me. Made the perfect ambush!” he grinned. “I should be thanking you.”

“Oh, well... you’re welcome?” Zelda offered, and somehow the teenager’s grin widened.

He leaned against the tree Zelda had been cowering beside, stretching his arms and tilting his head to the side until his neck cracked. Zelda took the opportunity to shake some of the muck off her dress, glad that at least it was one of her traveling ones and a little less delicate than some she owned. There’ll still be a fit when I return looking like this though.

“So what brings a fancy lady like you to the Great Zoran Swamp?” he asked, scanning her dress as she messed with it. “I’ve never seen anyone like you here before. Only visitors we really get are traders, convicts, or freaks, and you don’t look like any of those.”

Zelda found herself blushing again as he studied her, and she fiddled with her gloves.

“I’m looking for a temple,” Zelda admitted, picking at a torn thread on her glove. “The temple of Farore?”

He hummed consideringly, and Zelda swallowed. She hadn’t really planned on telling a complete stranger anything, but it wasn’t like it would do much harm giving him that. Plus if he’d wanted to hurt me, he’s had plenty opportunity to do so, and hasn’t.

She continued. “I was heading there to pray when... well. I wandered a bit away from my guides, just for a little while, and then those monsters showed up, and I ran...”

“And you got lost,” he finished for her with a smile. It was a nice smile, even despite the handful of green flecks she noticed stuck between some teeth. “Easy to do in the swamp if you don’t know it. Or if you do. It’s confusing. You’re lucky you didn’t go east, I found a nest of violet ropes that way.”

“Violet what?” Zelda asked, and the muck-coated teenager grimaced.

“Violet ropes. Venomous snakes. A bite from them can easily kill you if you’re not careful. Luckily they’re bright purple so you’d probably see them,” he said with a smile. “So long as you didn’t confuse them with any orchids. Anyway, we should get you back to your guides. No fancy ladies should be wandering in the swamp alone. Which way’s your group?”

Zelda looked around. “Ah... I’m afraid I have no idea.”

He tapped a finger to his chin. “Right. Lost. Uh... well I can get you to your temple,” he offered. “There’s a lot of ruins around but I think I know the one you mean. Can you swim?”

Zelda balked, then looked down at her dress. “I... don’t think I’m very well-equipped for swimming at the moment.”

“Okay, long way it is. Hope you like frogs!”

“I’ve always liked sketching them?” Zelda said hesitantly, and for some reason he laughed.

“Well just don’t touch any unless I tell you you can. C’mon!” he said, and grabbed her hand, tugging her along the marshy ground.

“Whoa wait!” Zelda said, planting her feet into the grass, mud chilling her bootless foot. The teenager stopped and looked back at her, tilting his head. “I... um. Could we pick up my shoe on the way?”

He blinked at her, looking at her socked foot, then down at his own feet, which merely had some kind of thick fabric wrapped around them.

Then he abruptly dropped her hand and walked away, staring at the ground.

Zelda stared, wanting to call after him, but not sure if she should. Was he... leaving? Had she offended him? Was the word shoe offensive? Or maybe the fact that Zelda had only one of them on? Or maybe she’d insulted him since he only sort of had shoes, and she did?

He’d disappeared from view, and Zelda stood uncertainly, listening to a bird cry somewhere in the distance.

Had she really chased away her guide by simply worrying about her shoe?

“Here.”

Zelda shrieked, whirling around to see the swamp man had somehow circled around behind her. There was a grin on his face, and he had a triumphant glint in his eyes as he held something out to her.

Her lost boot.

“Shoe,” he said, and stood rather close as he held it out to her. “No detour needed.”

“O-oh, thank you,” Zelda spluttered, hurriedly taking it and shoving it on her foot. He kept smiling at her as she straightened, and Zelda cleared her throat and inwardly shook herself. Goodness. What a mess she was.

“Ready?” he asked, and Zelda nodded, then hesitated.

“Yes, but before we go, I’m... my name is Zelda,” she said, and his smile changed a bit, less teasing, and more... sincere.

“I’m Link,” he replied, and took her hand again. “Let’s find you your group.”

And he tugged her forward, leading her through the swamp.

#also whewww the brainfog is real so if there’s typos that’s why #legend of zelda #legend of Zelda au #swamp link #fic #legend of zelda fanfiction #writing from the floor #the sillies <3

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yanderes-galore · 1 month ago

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Can I request a Steven universe Spinel alphabet if you haven't already done one? (⁠☆⁠▽⁠☆⁠)

Sure! Here's the traumatized silly :)

Yandere Alphabet - Spinel

Pairing: Platonic/Romantic

Possible Trigger Warnings: Gender-Neutral Darling, Obsession, Fear of abandonment, Clingy behavior, Possessive behavior, Spinel is relapsing, Violence, Kidnapping, Trauma implications, OOC Spinel, Jealousy, Forced companionship/relationship.

Affection: How do they show their love and affection? How intense would it get?

Let's be honest... Spinel has some issues. Even after the events of the movie I imagine she still has issues with friendships or relationships of any kind. Including with you since they come so strongly.

I can see Spinel getting overwhelmed with her emotions. She's clingy and often scared of her obsession leaving her like Pink did. Which, in turn, makes her even worse as her fear drives her.

I imagine she'd be intense as her obsessive behavior would make her unstable.

Blood: How messy are they willing to get when it comes to their darling?

If we're going based on how she acted in the movie, very. However, after that she definitely mellows out. So once she's more reformed yet still dealing with her obsession... She'll try not to harm people too much.

No promises, unfortunately, as she can probably still snap after gaining her obsession.

Cruelty: How would they treat their darling once abducted? Would they mock them?

I imagine she would previously treat you somewhat cruel since she was in pain during the movie. During the movie I can see her mock you too.

Although, afterwards? By then she's determined to keep the friendship you graciously offered her. Even if it's already kinda ruined when she abducts you.

Even if she's ruined your trust... Spinel would feel she has to cater to you to keep you as hers. As I said before, she's scared of you leaving. She's been abandoned once before... She can't go through it again.

At this time she doesn't bother mocking you. She's clingy and eager for you to give an order. She isn't used to all these obsessive feelings... It may actually make her relapse after what happened with Pink.

She'll give you all the attention you could ever ask for... Just don't leave.

Darling: Aside from abduction, would they do anything against their darling’s will?

Unintentionally, yes. She really does just want to impress. Although, if she reverted to how she was in the movie... then it's definitely all intentional.

Exposed: How much of their heart do they bare to their darling? How vulnerable are they when it comes to their darling?

I'd say very vulnerable. At first she tries not to be in fear of being hurt... Although as her obsession continues, she ends up relenting.

Which leads to her clinging to you since you showed you care... That's really all it took.

Fight: How would they feel if their darling fought back?

Distraught and irritated. Spinel really doesn't want to force her obsession to pay attention to her. Unfortunately, if she rushes the bond between you, she may have to.

Game: Is this a game to them? How much would they enjoy watching their darling try to escape?

Not really, no. She may be playful and treat it like a game at times... but she'll catch you in the end. She doesn't enjoy it when you run from her.

Hell: What would be their darling’s worst experience with them?

Huh... Well, the entirety of the movie is pretty bad if her obsession started there. Since then you'd deal with mocking isolation as she abducts you.

In terms of if she'd hurt you? Maybe unintentionally if she snaps. Other than that... I feel you nearly dying during the first movie's events may be the worst thing if you're human.

If you're a gem, getting hit with the rejuvenator as punishment could be an option.

Ideals: What kind of future do they have in mind for/with their darling?

Nothing too fancy, just you two being the equivalent of "best buds forever". She wants to always be by your side, even if she's hurt you before.

Just to distract herself from her past and be happy with you.

Jealousy: Do they get jealous? Do they lash out or find a way to cope?

I can definitely see her snapping and lashing out most of the time. If she feels you two have a strong bond, she may reconsider.

If not... well... her fears get to her.

Which makes her violent towards those she feels are trying to take you from her like with Pink.

Kisses: How do they act around or with their darling?

Very affectionate and overly obsessive. She becomes clingy with her obsession and overly attentive. She people pleases, essentially. Anything to keep the attention on her, a jester abandoned by her queen.

Her actions can also be seen as protective/possessive since she fears someone will be better than her and you'll leave....

Love letters: How would they go about courting or approaching their darling?

Definitely met you through Steven one way or another. Be that through the movie or afterwards. I feel during the movie makes sense... as she'd get attached there, accidentally scar you, then try to make it up to you... one of her only friends.

She no doubt follows you around, nervous yet also eager to build a relationship with you. She doesn't care how she has to do it...

She just needs you to be hers.

Mask: Are their true colors drastically different from the way they act around everyone else?

Not really, no.

Naughty: How would they punish their darling?

Isolation is ironic when it comes to her due to what she's gone through. She won't acknowledge the fact she's a hypocrite for doing that thought. She just...

She feels that's the only way to make you need her.

If you're a Gem she may take it a step further and 'poof' you.

Oppression: How many rights would they take away from their darling?

Nearly all of them if she's far gone enough.

Patience: How patient are they with their darling?

Moderately patient. She could go either way, honestly.

Quit: If their darling dies, leaves, or successfully escapes, would they ever be able to move on?

Eventually... But I think she'll snap and crack beforehand. She's so tired of losing the ones she loves.

Why can't you just stay with her?

Regret: Would they ever feel guilty about abducting their darling? Would they ever let their darling go?

Yes she'd feel guilty... but she may not let you go.

Stigma: What brought about this side of them (childhood, curiosity, etc)?

Definitely her entire experience with Pink.

Tears: How do they feel about seeing their darling scream, cry, and/or isolate themselves?

A bit distraught yet does her best to comfort you. She was a jester, after all. She's meant to entertain...

So she'll be trying her hardest to get you to smile again.

Unique: Would they do anything different from the classic yandere?

SKIPPED.

Vice: What weakness can their darling exploit in order to escape?

Essentially reassuring her you aren't going to leave or hurt her. She's actually quite fine when she's not afraid to lose you. After that she's just clingy, not dangerous.

Wit’s end: Would they ever hurt their darling?

Yes, but not always intentionally.

Xoanon: How much would they revere or worship their darling? To what length would they go to win their darling over?

She's somewhat a worship yandere... She'd do anything just to have your attention. Anything.

Yearn: How long do they pine after their darling before they snap?

Anything from months, to years... decades... She's been in that garden a long time, after all.

Zenith: Would they ever break their darling?

Yes. It can either be unintentionally... or on purpose.

#yandere steven universe #yandere steven universe x reader #yandere spinel #yandere spinel x reader

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