#You can’t exactly tell what he’s thinking based on his expressions often so it would piss her offff

[womb-complex]

love his serious expressionnsss

[fear-is-truth]

wow i love the way you write nam-gyu! would you mind writing his attempt to make things right if he was given a second chance in a relationship? I’m basing this off of your last post with him where you said if he was given a second chance he would at least genuinely try. Have a great day! ❤️

NAM-GYU ❝ TRYING ❞ TO BE A GOOD BOYFRIEND. . .

content — gn!reader ・nam-gyu is still toxic & overall a shitty boyfriend・headcanons

a/n — i love this horrid man.

he starts overcompensating in small, almost pitiful ways. buying you gifts you didn’t ask for, running errands he wouldn’t have done before, doing the dishes without being asked. it’s as though he thinks he can earn your forgiveness through sheer persistence.

and it works because the bar is so low to begin with, it’s practically a tripping hazard in hell.

he’s not above love-bombing if it means keeping you. but it’s not entirely manipulative—there’s a small part of him that genuinely believes he can be better, even if he doesn’t know what that looks like.

he doesn’t like when you talk about the breakup. he’ll deflect, change the subject, or turn it into a joke. the idea of revisiting that time makes him feel pathetic, and he absolutely hates that.

keeps asking you if you’re happy. the question comes out of nowhere—he needs constant reassurance, like your happiness is the only proof he has that he’s not screwing this up again.

no matter how much he wants to try and fix things, he can’t completely shake the bitterness. deep down, he hates being the one begging for forgiveness. sometimes it slips out in muttered comments or passive-aggressive digs when he feels like he’s not being appreciated enough for trying.

gets this haunted look when you mention any moment from the time you were apart. it doesn’t matter if it’s innocent or unrelated to him—he’ll start overthinking it. where were you? who were you with?

paranoid about losing you again, and it shows in the way he checks your phone, asks too many questions about where you’ve been, or sulks when you spend time with other people.

if you call him out, he’ll switch gears fast. nam-gyu knows exactly what to say to deflect blame or make you second-guess your own feelings. he’s silver-tongued in a way that makes you want to forgive him, even when you know you probably shouldn’t.

despite his efforts, nam-gyu has a habit of reverting to old patterns. he gets frustrated when things don’t improve immediately and lashes out verbally. but as soon as he sees your hurt expression, he’s quick to backtrack, softening his tone and apologising—but the authenticity is up for debate.

there are sporadic bursts of effort. maybe he remembers a small detail you mentioned in passing and surprises you with it, or he takes you somewhere meaningful to “start fresh.” these moments feel real because, for a fleeting second, they are. but they’re often short-lived, drowned out by his issues.

he tries to hold back when you fight, but sometimes he just slips. the venom comes out before he can stop it, and the second he sees your face fall, he’s begging for forgiveness. the cycle exhausts you both.

tries to make up for his outbursts with affection. his hands are always on you—your waist, your wrist, the back of your neck. sure it’s possessive, but there’s a desperation to it too, because he’s trying to prove he still has a right to touch you.

there’s a subtle change in the way he looks at you now. before, there was always the arrogance of knowing you’d stick around no matter what. now, he’s bracing himself for the moment you’ll tell him it’s over for good.

he convinces himself that as long as you’re still there, things can get better. even if he doesn’t fully believe in his own ability to change, he holds onto the idea that you believe in him. it’s a crutch, one that keeps him from truly taking accountability but also keeps him trying—and he is. but there’s also a part of him that still believes he can’t fully change, that this is just who he is, and it’s up to you to decide if you can live with it.

[spitdrunken]

Not often embarrasseda bout posting something anymore BUT ITS HAPPENING TODAY! So. Maxime le Mal. Please read the notes because this is weird in a very specific way.

Notes: maxime being a Villain, obsessive behaviour, mind control, insect mentions (cockroaches specifically), body horror (!!!!!), forced bodily transformations (into a cockroach.)

I keep thinking about Maxime transforming you partly into a cockroach, purely because of the effects it has on the mind.

For one reason or another, as it had started as an unintended side-effect of his insectification machines, the ones he has turned are obedient to him more than anything else! It’s funny, really, that the people transformed entirely into insects are more coherent, and adore him in a more overt way, huh? His working theory is that during a partial transformation, people are perhaps still struggling against it mentally. In one form or another. It’s difficult to check, really, since they can’t exactly tell him! They’re all twitchy, hardly capable of functioning, except to follow his commands.

For you, he tries to find a sweet spot in between the two. When something or, in this case, someone, catches Maxime’s eye, he has a tendency to throw himself into it head-first. Never doing anything less than perfect, never accepting less than defeat. So, when you deny his romantic advances so directly… Not only does it leave a dent in his pride, it leaves him with a bit of a grudge, as well. If there anything he doesn’t handle well, it’s grudges. Now that he’s got a handheld-sized way of turning anyone into insects, it’d be silly of him not to use it!

(And if you are hoping for Valentina to interfere, you are fresh out of luck. The both of them have come to an agreement long ago that interests in other people are fine, as long as they are discussed. To add to that, it’d be hard for her to be a ‘femme fatale’ if she couldn’t seduce anyone, right? They’ve been together long enough to know that they will always return to each other’s side. So, no, Valentina will not get jealous and try to interfere in… Whatever her boyfriend has going on with you. She’d be more likely to watch, egging him on in amusement and turning away once she’s lost interest.)

“It’s just a pair of antennae sprouting from your head! That’s not so bad, is it, huh? Look at you! They look so cute on you! Little things.” Maxime tells you, patting your head, tone and expression both dripping with condescension. Whereas a minute ago you would have ran for the hills at this, your mind has become sluggish and, without even fully realising what he’s saying, you find yourself nodding along to his words. He smells good, familiar. You would be able to pick him out of a crowd with ease. Unbeknownst to you, your pupils are blown wide now, too. Anyone who say them would think you were high out of your mind. You shudder as he pinches and rubs one of your newly-sprouted appendages in between fingers. The antennae are incredibly sensitive. The sensation can only be compared to someone running their hands up over the bare skin of your sides, and you tense up, eyelids fluttering. It doesn’t exactly feel good, but it doesn’t feel… Bad, either. A noise leaves your throat, one you can only describe as a chirp, and weren’t capable of making before. All of a sudden, revulsion hits you like a tidal wave. It must show on your face, because Maxime squeezes down, and it hurts. “Non, non! None of that! Just look at me. Or do you want to grow another pair of arms also? …No, I didn’t think so.”

When you’re not actively fighting it, it’s so easy to slip into your new base instincts, which consist of the primary mission of obeying Maxime le Mal. He’s so nice to you, too! As long as you listen, that is!

[bat3s]

I don't know if you have limits and if you don't want to do these it's completely fine, just wanted to ask if you could do a s/o with multiple additions like coffe/energy drink, cigarettes/weed and self harm, cutting/burning. I have these additions and I was curious how they would react. You can choose the killers

TW:s/h

Slashers x gn s/o with addictions (Michael Myers, Billy Loomis, Norman Bates, Jason Voorhees, Brahms Heelshire, Thomas Hewitt)

Sorry this took so long! I hope you enjoy!!

Michael Myers

He’s already aware of your addictions since he basically stalks you

He’s familiar with not only substance based addictions but also self harm because he had seen other patients at Smith’s grove who struggled with addictions

His immediate reaction is to clear the house of anything you could really hurt yourself with

He knows he can’t just make you stop, he understands that it’s much more complicated than that

If you talk to him about it, maybe asking for comfort when you get urges he’ll begrudgingly agree to help

He knows this is important, he knows you’re important to him so he wants to make sure you’re okay

Whenever you get the urge to smoke/cut/burn etc. he’ll walk up behind you and press himself against you to try and distract you

Not exactly hugging but it’s the thought that counts

Billy Loomis

The first thing he noticed was the smoking/energy drinks

They were pretty apparent because those were things you did in front of him, he noticed how often you seemed to do it and how you seemed dependent on these things to get you through the day

He notices the self harm a bit later

Might sneak into your room when you’re asleep and noticed the cuts/burns on your arm where your clothes had been brushed up in bed

He kind of gets mad, not really though, he’s upset and frustrated but he doesn’t know how to express that

Wakes you up right away and asks you about it

Gets really pushy up until you start crying/shout back at him

After that he backs off a bit and tries to figure things out

He wants to help you he just has no idea how

What he ends up doing is basically just trying to distract you, if he noticed that you seemed bothered he would drag you onto the couch to watch some movies (your choice!) 

Reacts fairly poor in the case of a relapse

He’ll back off for a bit just so he doesn’t do anything particularly upsetting

Tries to help by distracting you mostly

He'll try to take you out more, you'd normally stay in with him since that's his preference but he'll do whatever he can to help you work through things

He does still do regular movie nights though, if not more frequently

Lets you pick the movies :0

Norman Bates

He discourages your use of caffeine

considering the time, smoking is a fairly common habit

Though he does notice that you're smoking a lot

He tries to gently encourage you to be healthier

He'll encourage you to sleep earlier and more often to dissuade your caffeine use

He'll also try to let you relax more, he thinks that removing stress might help you cut back on smoking

He notices the self-harm slowly

He sees all the little things

You going to the bathroom for long periods of time and not running the shower

You wearing long sleeves/pants in hot weather

The amount of first aid supplies being used

How you'd flinch when he touched or brushed certain parts of your body

He tried to deny it for a while, he didn't want to believe you'd hurt yourself

He decides to ask you about it one day though

He can't stand the though of you hurting while he stands by and does nothing

He's very delicate with how he phrases his question, but he asks if he can see your arms/legs

If you oblige he very carefully rolls up the clothing and gently cradles the area

He's silent for a moment before he speaks

He asks if he did something/has neglected something which prompted you to do this

Encourages you to seek him out when you feel the urge to self harm

Very patient and a great listener as you tell him about your struggles and how you've been feeling

He encourages you to form healthier replacement habits like gardening/baking/art

Will drop everything to comfort you

Will abandon conversations with customers to make you feel better

Will always be willing to help you clean any injuries

He's very teary eyed the whole time but he remains calm and reassuring the whole time

Whenever he gets the chance he'll hold your hands in his and press your foreheads together and he'll just whisper how much he loves you and how proud he is of you

Jason Voorhees

Jason does not really tolerate any smoking/drinking

So I won't be writing about that

He doesn't notice any of the signs of s/h

He has never really seen or heard of anyone doing that sort of thing before so it doesn't even occur to him

He finds out on a really hot day

You're clearly suffering in the heat but insist on wearing long sleeves/pants

He doesn't want you passing out from the heat so he tries to get you to change clothes or at the very least roll up your sleeves/pants

He gets fed up and just does it for you (he's to strong so there's really nothing you can do to stop him)

When he sees the marks he just freezes

He assumes someone else is hurting you and that you were hiding it

Panics and carries you indoors to give you first aid

As you explain to him that you were hurting yourself on purpose he just looks confused

He hugs you and holds you really close (still broiling hot but he's upset okay)

Won't really leave you alone after this

Always checking you for injuries

Won't let you near anything potentially dangerous

If you express that you want to harm yourself he'll take you out on a walk to try and distract you

Brahms Heelshire

Brahms doesn't like it when you go outside for smoke breaks often

So your only options are to smoke inside/out a window or to quit altogether

Brahms will insist on the latter

He doesn't like the smell or taste and will throw a fit when you smell like tobacco

He will throw a fit about the caffeine as well

He thinks energy drinks and coffee are disgusting and doesn't want them in the house

Even the smell of coffee will upset him

If he finds any he'll steal it and throw it out

He's in the walls so you're not really sure where he can see/go so there's no where private to go

He'll witness you harming well before he reveals himself

(Before revealing himself) He'll take away any blades/lighters so you can't use them

(After revealing himself) He won't throw fits about you harming

But he does get very sad

He doesn't like the idea of you hurting yourself but he's even more upset that he can't help you

He'll hold you very close to him and whisper little praises and reassurances when you tell him you're having the urge to hurt yourself

Thomas Hewitt

It's quite unlikely that the Hewitts have easy access to coffee let alone energy drinks

And it's unlikely they'd let you leave often enough to get large amounts of them, that's assuming you can even afford that given your new situation

So you're forced to quit cold turkey

If you explain it to Thomas, he's very sympathetic and tries his best to sooth your withdrawal symptoms

When it comes to self harm, Thomas has personal experience in that area

He notices you wearing long clothes in hot Texas weather and catches on pretty quickly

He knocks on the door to the bathroom one day when you're in the middle of harming and asks if he can come in

If you panic and insist you're fine he'll calmly assure you that he already knows and he just wants to help

You let him in and he very slowly steps in and slowly reaches towards the area, looking down at you to make sure you're okay with him checking

He'll clean your wounds in silence and then will take you into your bedroom and just hold you in his lap

He's silent but he's gently rubbing his hands over any unmarked areas to sooth you

He'll listen very closely if you want to talk

He tells you that while he'd like you to stop, he understands it's not that easy and that he just wants you to be safe

He wants you to come to him when you feel any urges

Or after you've already harmed, that way he can disinfect it and comfort you

He won't tell anyone else, he's sure they'd react poorly (even if Luda May cared, she wouldn't really understand)

He tends to be very shy about his own scars and is apprehensive to let you touch or even see them

But now he lets you in hopes that you won't feel alone

He's not good with words, so he hopes this shows you how much he cares and that he understands how you're feeling

(If you let him) He will gently pet the areas around the injuries

He'll trace the scars and press gentle kisses on them

I'm so soft for him

[gridgirldrabbles]

Accidentally in Love

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x Y/N

Words: 3k

Warnings: none

Based on: Accidentally in Love – Counting Crows

So she said what’s the problem, baby?

What’s the problem?

I don’t know

Well, maybe I’m in love

Think about it every time I think about it

Can’t stop thinking ‘bout it

You and Charles had been best friends before either of you even knew how to walk. He had been the one to push over boys on the playground who had pulled your pigtails while you were the one who held his hand in the nurse’s office when he had fallen over and scraped his knees while playing football. The two of you were inseparable, and despite the constant changes in both of your lives that had been one of the few constants. When Charles had entered the world of Formula 3, you had followed him to every race that you could until your mother told you it wouldn’t kill you to miss a race and go to school for once. When you went off to university having freshly turned 18, Charles was the one to help you move into your dorm room and wipe away your tears when you were saying goodbye.

The close bond you’d developed over all those years was how you could tell something was wrong when you looked at his face, eyebrows knitted together and lips downturned. You’d finished university now, having graduated top of your class, and Charles had invited you to travel round with him for a few months before you started applying for jobs. You were currently sat in his drivers room, you’d been talking about the upcoming race when his phone had pinged and he’d gotten distracted. Usually you wouldn’t mind, you knew the people who contacted him were more often than not quite important but the look on his face was causing concern.

“What’s the problem?” Your leg stretched out from your chair to tap your foot against where his rested at the bottom of the couch. His head snapped up to yours, his phone quickly being shoved back into his pocket before you could even get a glimpse of what he had been sent.

“Nothing, why?” Charles knew you didn’t believe him, he’d never been able to lie to you in any capacity. Whether it was when he ate the last cookie that you had been thinking about all day or the fact he’d planned a massive surprise party for your birthday, he’d never been able to hide anything from you. You looked at him with a deadpan expression on your face, “what’s going on?”

“It was just Arthur asking if I could go home for a surprise party for Maman in a few weeks but I don’t think I’ll be able to make it.” Why did he say that? It was only to be expected that when you became so close with Charles you’d become just as close with the rest of his family. He’d have to remember to text Arthur later and tell him he had a surprise party to plan.

“Oh that’s a shame,” your lips pouted slightly at the thought of how sad Pascale would be at the fact she wouldn’t have all three of her boys at her birthday, she’d become a second mother to you very quickly over the years. “Is there no way you can move your plans around?”

“Yeah, I’ll ask and see if I can rearrange.” He was impressed that he’d managed to keep his cool but he knew his mother was your weak spot, you spoke to her even more than he did. He looked at his watch before ushering you out of the room and down to your spot at the back of the garage, leaving you with a soft peck on the forehead before he got into the car for free practice.

The real reason he’d been so perturbed was a text from the Frenchman only a few garages down. Pierre had messaged him and asked Charles for your number. He usually would be more than willing to give Pierre his friends’ numbers, but this time was different because it was you. It was sort of an open secret that Charles was absolutely head over heels for you, and everyone seemed to be aware of it. Except you, the one person Charles actually wanted to notice.

The truth was Pierre knew exactly how Charles felt about you, he had only asked for your number because he was starting to feel about sorry for his friend and the pining look he was always sending your way. In a last ditch attempt he had sent that text with the hope that Charles would see other people were bound to be interested in you sooner or later and he would have missed his opportunity.

What Charles didn’t know is that you’d felt the exact same way for as long as you could possibly remember. It had started when your mothers joked about how you would eventually get married given the pair of you spent so much time together. As you’d gotten older your friendship grew stronger, as did your feelings. When Charles had come over one day and told you all about his first kiss it had taken everything in you not to burst into tears right in front of him.

Over time you’d learned to control your emotions around him much better, but every now and again you would catch yourself staring and feel your heart beating faster, or you wouldn’t be able to stop the blush that crept up your neck and onto your cheeks when he sent a wink your way. A lot of boys had propositioned you over the years, sure you’d had one night stands over the years and gone on dates but nothing had really ever stuck. You knew deep down it was because you were comparing all of them to your best friend and none of them could even hold a candle to him in any regard, so you settled for being happily single until you got over him.

Except you never seemed to. The lingering touches and longing gazes exchanged across crowded rooms kept that little flicker of hope awake in your heart and it meant you could never moved on. Moving on would have required cutting Charles out of your life in one way or another and that just wasn’t something you were prepared to do.

How ironic that the two of you were so head over heels for each other. You’d spent years rebuking claims that you were secretly dating, admittedly with red cheeks and stuttering tongues, but none the less you had denied it. Neither of you had meant to fall in love but neither of you were willing to move on either, so you remained in an unrequited limbo for as long as it was going to take for one of you to make the first move.

Come on, come on

Turn a little faster

Come on, come on

The world will follow after

Come on, come on

Because everybody’s after love

It turns out you didn’t have to wait very long. The same weekend Pierre had sent his forsaken text, Charles had won the race and claimed a decent lead in the championship, which was only ever going to lead to one thing. Drinking.

In celebration of your best friends win, you were decked out in a stunning Ferrari red, the bold dress matching the colour of your lips. When Charles had come to pick you up from your room, he would be lying if he said his mouth hadn’t gotten a little drier and his pants a little tighter. If it was up to him he would’ve carried you back into your hotel room and that would’ve been his celebration. Instead he just told you that you looked beautiful and planted a soft kiss on your cheek before offering an arm out to you. He knew how badly your heels hurt your feet so any time he saw you wearing them he would offer you his arm to keep you steady.

You had met some of the other drivers at the club and the drinks had been flowing from the moment you’d crossed the threshold. Pierre had shoved shots of tequila into your hands and it had only gotten messier from there. You couldn’t even remember how many drinks you had when you’d dragged Charles by his hand onto the dancefloor, the other drivers watching with sly smiles in the hopes that the Monegasque would finally make his move.

The dancing remained fairly PG as it always was between you, both trying to make the other laugh with ridiculous moves. Your hands were interlocked when Charles released one of them and raised the other above your head, silently telling you to start spinning. His hand led your moments as he yelled “faster, faster!”, your hair flying around you and your laughs being able to be heard even over the thumping music. It didn’t take long for you to trip over your own feet and go stumbling forward.

Given his lightning reactions, it was no surprise that Charles caught you and balanced you upright. You were surprised when you lifted your head and you were virtually nose to nose with him, the faint smell of tequila lingering on his breath as it washed over your face and intoxicated you even more than you already had been. Your eyes naturally flicked down towards his slightly parted lips and that was the only signal Charles had needed. He thanked the alcohol for his increased confidence because he didn’t think he’d ever been so happy as when his lips felt yours mould themselves to fit his.

After a few seconds you both pulled away breathlessly. He’d thought about this moment thousands of times but nothing could’ve prepared him for the real thing. Your heaving chest, eyes staring up into his with a small smile playing on your lips. Before he could even say anything your lips were back on his, arms settled on his shoulders.

Well I didn’t mean to do it

But there’s no escaping your love

Neither of you had expected anything to stem from that night, both of you thought it was just a drunken incidence that would quickly be forgotten as you got back into your usual routine.

That was until you went out drinking again the week after and ended up in a dark corner of the club with your lips pressed together.

You thought it would’ve been awkward kissing your best friend without being in a relationship but it felt so natural that it didn’t change your friendship in the slightest. You still saw each other as much as you could, you still cuddled up on Charles’ couch whenever you were watching films, you still facetimed every day when he was away for races.

In fact, it had even brought you closer. While you still acted normally around each other there was a certain tension in the air whenever the two of you were alone.

Come on, come on

Move a little closer

Come on, come on

I wanna hear you whisper

Come on, come on

Settle down inside my love

After that night it hadn’t taken long for Charles to officially ask you to be his, and you jumped at the chance to say yes, it was something you’d spent days dreaming about. Your days together were spent in quiet bliss, a private bubble where you got to be deeply, head over heels in love.

Neither of you felt comfortable revealing your relationship to anyone right away, it was already strange enough to be navigating the path of friends to lovers without everyone else getting involved. It hadn't felt strange just kissing when their were no strings attached, but falling in love was a completely different ball park. This was understandably a bit difficult for you both, trying to control lingering gazes and wandering hands as best you could when others were around.

So far, no one had cottoned on to the fact that the two of you were spending so much time together. You were virtually glued at the hip before you got together so why would anyone suspect anything now?

The big issue came when the two of you were invited to Pierre’s house for a big summer break party. You knew that you weren’t the best at self-control when you had a bit of alcohol in your system, and Charles was going to know virtually everyone there.

You were just swiping your lipstick over your pouted lips when Charles came into the bathroom and wrapped his arms around your waist from behind, chin settled delicately on your shoulder as he smiled softly at you in the mirror.

“Why do you look so worried?”

“I’m not,” you lied, “I just don’t want to be late.”

He spun you around so your lower back was pressed against the counter before tilting your chin up with his fingers in order to make your eyes meet his. Looking into his glassy orbs made you sigh, “I don’t know if I’m going to be able to control myself around you when I’m drunk, what if people notice?”

Charles couldn’t help but laugh at how sweet you were. “Mon amour, if they notice then they notice, but I promise it’ll be easier than you think.” He left a soft peck on the tip of your nose before taking your hand and leading you to the front door.

Pierre’s apartment wasn’t very far from Charles’, in reality nothing in Monaco was, so the pair of you decided to walk. As people stopped your boyfriend on the street and asked for photographs you hung back in the shadows. You knew it didn’t take much to spark a rumour online, and if the two of you were seen together as dressed up as you were people would’ve assumed it was a date.

The walk didn’t take long and before you knew it you were surrounded by far too many people and far too many drinks. No one had bat an eye when you had walked in together, knowing that Charles would’ve been gentlemanly enough to pick you up even when you were still best friends.

The alcohol flowed freely and quickly, and it didn’t take long for you to start feeling the buzz as you caught up with some of the drivers you hadn’t seen in a while. You couldn’t help how your eyes kept flitting over to Charles, often meeting his gaze as he searched for you across the room.

When your eyes turned back to the conversation you were met with Daniel’s knowing gaze, a wide, smug smirk sat across his tanned face. He leaned directly into you, “You know, I think he’d be inclined to say yes if you asked him out on a date.”

It took all of your willpower to not laugh in his face and instead to look embarrassed, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Of course not, love. Now go over and talk to him, he looks like a lost puppy without you next to him.” With a quick shove he had sent you stumbling into the middle of the room where you regained your footing and threw him the middle finger. But that didn’t stop you from making your way over to Charles.

He was catching up with Alex when you reached his side, greeting Alex like an old friend and asking how Lily was. You’d become quite close with his girlfriend after you decided to introduce yourself at one of the many races you’d both attended. It turns out you’d had a lot in common and had stayed good friends since that day.

While animatedly chatting to Alex, you could feel Charles’ hand twitch against your own, his pinky finger looping around yours with the lightest touch, almost like a breath. If you hadn’t been hyperaware of all of his movements you may have missed it, but you didn’t, so you gently squeezed your hand to show him how much you appreciated the gesture.

It wasn’t long before Alex was swept aware by other attendees which left you and Charles to yourselves. As soon as he was sure no one was paying the two of you any attention, Charles grabbed your hand and led you to the balcony.

When the door settled behind you with a click, his lips were on yours, hands pulled your hips as close as humanly possible to his own. He pulled away while taking a deep breath, resting his forehead on yours as he closed his eyes, “I hate not being able to touch you when I want.”

You couldn’t help but laugh and raise an eyebrow, “I thought you said this was going to be easy?”

“EASIER I said, not easy…and I was wrong anyway, this is fucking hard.” He whined. He felt like stomping his foot like a toddler but knew you’d never let him live it down if he did.

“We can go home in a couple of hours and you can touch me which ever way you’d like,” you whispered into his ear, heart skipping a beat at the way his hands tensed on the curve of your waist.

“Is that a promise?”

“It’s a promise.”

With a chaste kiss on the lips and a cheeky squeeze of your bum, the two of you returned to the party, thankful that no one had noticed your absence.

Pierre immediately found the two of you and wrapped his arms around you both, horrendously intoxicated despite it still being relatively early in the evening. He swayed silently between you before he took a look at Charles’ face.

He stopped moving entirely and grabbed the Monegasques face between his thumb and fingers, squishing his cheeks together. You couldn’t help but laugh as Charles’ face turned to one of horror, “What the hell are you doing, mate?”

Pierre squinted his eyes even more than they already were, “Are you wearing Y/N’s lipstick?”

[petrichorium]

I WOULD LIKE TO HEAR ABOUT EX HUSBAND SHANKS 🙏🙏🙏🙏🙏🙏

Okay I was thinking a relationship that’s like SUPER chill and casual. Like literally fuckbuddies turned lovers; u stay on ur home island and he’s off most of the time. Was based close by in the first year or two y’all met and got close so he was around more often but eventually it becomes him stopping by every few months for a few weeks and the two of you keeping up contact while he’s gone. The progression from just messing around to a committed relationship is slow and largely unsaid until Beckman tells you his captain has turned down every other woman for the past two years and you realize you aren’t much searching for other men yourself; soon enough you’ve got matching rings and as untraditional as it is it works.

And I’m just thinking abt how like…….. ur happy w ur life on ur little island, it’s relatively safe all things considered under his protection and you’ve lived there your whole life and all you rlly wanna do is keep your head down and stay there. Getting involved with Red-Haired Shanks puts a major flaw in that plan but it’s easy to forget who exactly he is. He doesn’t hide it, ofc not, but he’s so… unremarkable seeming that it’s difficult to remember, especially when your interaction with him is isolated to a scant few days or weeks when he’s most at ease and the only thing he’s thinking about is you.

But………. then you’re reminded otherwise. It’s silly really, because of course you know. It’s been years since you first met him, you’ve seen the wanted posters and you’ve heard how people talk about him, but knowing in abstract—contrasted by the man who’s managed to marry you, all wide smiles and incessant drunken love confessions and never dodging a well-placed swat from your hand—is far different from seeing in person.

You board his ship for a little trip; something small, only a few days to go retrieve a gift for you that Shanks had foolishly left a few islands away, low-risk and entirely in his territory. But it all goes sideways and you’re forced, quite suddenly, to realize just who you’ve managed to fall for—and exactly what kind of power and prestige he wields—while trapped with nowhere to go but remain on his ship with him and his crew for the days it takes to return.

You feel stupid more than anything, balking like this after one (frankly minuscule) fight. You don’t leave his cabin the whole trip back. He brings you meals, holds you when he can, tells you how much the crew misses you, but he doesn’t understand just how much you’re questioning. How much, you wonder, do you really know Shanks? Bordering on ten years is quite some time but when you only see him a scant few weeks out of those years, how much does it matter?

The ring on your finger, the way he looks at you—they settle on your shoulders more like a noose now, no longer making you giddy. How long until some bitter rival of his storms your home searching for you because they can’t touch him?

How much is he worth it when the lives of everyone in your hometown stand at risk?

You’re smart enough not to pick the fight until you’ve returned. You have it at the door of your home, long overdone and frankly terrified, all but melting down once you’re truly alone with him for the first time in a week. He doesn’t yell back—doesn’t do much, after attempts at soothing you fail, except watch you with a mildly surprised expression on his face.

For the first time in years you don’t let him stay the night, or see him off when he leaves the following day. You sit up on your roof and watch his ship disappear over the horizon and assure yourself that clearly you aren’t cut out for being his.

(But two months later that ship appears again, and an hour after docking there’s a knock at your door, and you can’t help how your breath hitches when you see that red hair beyond the peephole…)

[sunflowersandsapphires]

Matt Murdock x Autistic!Reader x Frank Castle Headcanons!

I’ve been feeling incredibly AuDHD this week so here are some headcanons for how Matt and Frank would treat their autistic partner :) 

If anyone wants to see drabbles/one-shots with an autistic!reader based on my own experiences, let me know!!

I am certain that both Matt and Frank would be so loving and devoted to their autistic partner. It might take a bit of time to work out some things but they’d be so good to you. 

Something that I really struggle with is expressing romantic love while also having pretty intense sensory issues? I am not touch averse, and usually crave touch, but if I’ve spent too much energy on other things, touch is usually the first thing to overwhelm me. 

If you struggle with touch or being held, or you’re even just having a bad day, Matt and Frank would be so understanding because they, of all people, definitely understand what that’s like. 

While Frank probably has more experience with tactical planning, both a legal and a military background require incredible attention to detail which would come in handy with both setting routines and going over the plan for something. 

My inability to read social cues has led to intense social anxiety, especially where there’s crowds. One way that I prepare for going to events is by creating a detailed plan on my head of how I will get to and leave the event. 

Matt and Frank’s combined attention to detail would be so helpful for talking through what an activity would look like, who would be there, where it was taking place, when you’d need to leave by. 

Because Matt is incredibly social, and incredibly sweet, I think that he would be over the moon to help you bypass your social anxiety at functions. 

He would go out of his way to make you feel comfortable. Whether that means speaking for you if you can’t, or bringing up a topic that you’re interested in so you feel more at ease with a group. 

I think everyone is in agreement (myself included) that Matt would be perfect if you needed help because you were overstimulated. He has heightened senses and experiences that stuff himself, so it wouldn’t be too hard for him to take care of you in that situation. 

But I also think Frank would excel at that. He’s a man of few words and he wouldn’t overwhelm you with questions or suggestions. He would listen to what you needed or what Matt proposed and take action. For example, if you were having a bad sensory day and were on the verge of a meltdown so you couldn’t do the dishes you planned on doing, there’s no doubt Frank would have them done by the time you were ready to socialize again. 

This man would keep a strict inventory of comfy clothes and blankets and fidgets for you, making sure to keep everything relatively orderly so that you had what you needed if you weren’t in the mood to go looking. (Because let’s be honest, some days we are all a lost sock away from a mental breakdown.) 

Another issue that I face is being seen as too honest or blunt? I often overexplain why I am phrasing something the way that I am so it’s not seen as rude or ignorant. 

I think Matt and Frank would really appreciate someone being honest with them, especially Matt. Given that he can tell when people are lying, I think it would be a nice change of pace for him to have a partner who doesn’t really do the whole “white lie” thing. 

I also think expressing the reasoning behind why you’re asking something or saying something a certain way would bring him peace because he knows exactly how to interpret it. This man has self-esteem issues of his own, he doesn’t need open ended or slightly ominous questions to make him spiral. 

Also, I firmly believe that Frank would crack up at some of the stuff that comes out of an unfiltered mouth. I think he would adore how embarrassed you get trying to apologize for being rude because you said something without thinking. He would simply tell you there was no reason to apologize because whatever you said was hilarious. 

anyway, this is heavily based on my own experiences but I hope you enjoyed! Please let me know if you’d like to see more headcanons and feel free to request.

[milestonekestrel]

Heeeeeeyy milestone! I’ve got some questions for you, specifically about our favorite lizard man, Caz. Even more specifically about the lizard part.

I can’t find any super detailed analysis on him, and I really need a super detailed analysis on him rn, and so I come to you to ask for one, if you’re up for it.

If not, then I just have some more specific questions: on a scale of Addair to Billy, how bald is he? I gather that he has a beard, but I’m not sure. How movable are his tail, spines, individual claws? How do his many eyes work, exactly?

If I have any other questions, I’ll probs just ask you again, but that’s it for now. Sry for the long ask, and the weird questions. I need to know for… *checks notes* reasons.

HELLO FISH!!!!!! sorry for the wait BUT I am here and ready to ramble about my little lizard guy to you <3

SO! Caz <333 this is him in full color:

I'll answer your questions first, and then provide additional stuff!

So, he's actually got more hair than most of the infected! Though, its not wholly hair, or, I guess, what you would think of hair. Its basically eyelashes, though more firm and.. fibrous, I suppose? It's tough and coarse, meant to catch things he eats, or interacts with, and protect the eye below. It does completely cover the tusks, on the outside only, but still. Getting bit by this guy SUCKS so bad </3 But anyway, yeah, it is a beard. Beard of eyelashes....

And, speaking of getting bit....

This is about how it goes. He could fit a human's head in his mouth, and though you can see the length of the snout is inconsistent here, its supposed to be kinda stubby. He's a tall lizard, very square, but built kind of like a lion, if that makes sense? Anyways, the tusks are the main problem here. Its.... a very effective way to maul someone, I'll be honest. The tusks keep things trapped, and also make injuries much worse, because he's basically impaling you with them if he bites you. Their resting position, as you can see from the photos above, is over his upper lip/snout thing, so they do extend out a bit further.

now, onto the next question!

His claws are pretty dexterous, like a hand, almost. He can point with them, seen above, and he can grab certain things, especially for climbing. and he does climb, he likes high places. Leverage, chiefly when hunting. Now, his claws don't entirely work like human hands, though. He doesn't have the same kind of wrist or individual finger things going on, but imagine dragon talons, and you've basically got it.

also pictured above is him swimming! he's one of the few infected who can do that. He's kind of like a cat, generally. He's quick, he can run and swim and climb. He can smell, too, but his nostrils are on the inside of his mouth. scent glands, also like a cat <3

In general, Caz is very flexible:

As seen here, he can twist his body very much, and be fine. His range is more limited in his head and neck, but the rest of him, incredibly flexible. He just has to be careful of the ribs, which makes it more awkward. You can see in all the pictures, as his spine came to the outside, the ribs followed. There's three on his abdomen, extending down from the spine, and then two more on the tail, which almost wrap around its base. These are just bones, no special things about them, not really. They're sturdy, but they will break if he's not careful.

and the tail! Its got a barb, kind of like a scorpion, but there's no venom or anything. Its just shaped like that. and as for tail movement, its basically a cat's tail! He's like a big cat lizard, if you cant tell <3 he will use it to express emotions, like a cat, since he does rely more on body language than speaking. He can speak, technically, but the eye is right in his throat, right up on those vocal cords, so it is uncomfortable and just more difficult. More often than not, he just growls and makes sounds, because even that is slightly easier than actually talking.

and speaking of the eyes!!

The eyes on the top, he can't see out of. They're decoys. They have eyelids and all, but they really kind of act independently of his conscious control. More often than not, they give him a squinty look. They do close when he is extremely comfortable, it shows how he's completely trusting and sure he's safe. If he feels the slightest bit unsafe, the decoy eyes stay open, even if he's sleeping.

The real eye is down below. The skin kind of flares out, held in the position by more bones, which you can see poking out. They eye is nestled firmly in a bunch of muscle tissue, and if he wants to look around, he has to turn his throat, and often entire body, to do so. It is a sensitive area, this weak spot. They eye can't really close. Its got some ability to use the eyelids it came with, but not very well and not for long. Also, closing it leaves him vulnerable, as would closing the eyes on top of a human's head, and he is very instinctual, so that's not exactly something he likes.

They eye gets pretty irritated because of this. It can withstand the water in the ocean, when he swims. It'll sting, but he can handle it. also, getting stuff in it doesn't help. and if its super windy the eye is just getting blasted.

well! That's your questions! if you have any more, i'll be glad to answer <3

and here's a height comparison thing I made, so you can get an accurate look at how big he would be.

[chronically-ghosted]

Second Base.

rating: 18+

pairing: max phillips x f!reader

word count: 3712

summary: you try out second base; hand stuff only, but it changes things between you two, as much as you don't want it to.

warnings/tags: cute little outfits designed to drive max nuts, hand jobs (m and f receiving), more blood, fangs, one emotionally unavailable vampire

a/n: this contains one of my favorite lines i've ever written!

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Second base.

Because you aren’t actual sadists or masochists, after the first bite, your sex life with Max went back to normal. Well, as normal as sex with an immortal creature of the night ever was in the first place. Okay – as normal as sex with an immortal creature of the night who is Max Phillips ever was in the first place. Which is to say, often, hard, and loud. It had been weeks since you’d seen that worried look of consternation, that sweet vulnerability he expressed, as if feeding on you might be the thing that kills you and not being railed against your couch for the better part of an entire day. Sometimes you wished he had much respect for your ability to walk upright as he did your jugular vein. 

On some level, you were aware that his recent overexuberance was in part due to that vulnerability. As if you might lift the curtain and find that the man behind it all might leave you wanting. Truly a frat boy at heart, Max struggled to express anything that couldn’t be summed up with the three “ings” – licking, sucking, and fucking, obviously – but now, he had been exposed as someone capable of those deeper feelings, as if he had been the one to split open a vein for you. And despite the heavenly glow you indulged in after the first bite, you really weren’t quite sure how you felt about it all. You hadn’t started dating Max with any illusions about who exactly he is. In fact, you might have started fucking him in the first place because it seemed wildly out of character that he or you would get attached at all – to anyone or anything. The dating thing just sort of happened, when you both came to the same conclusion at roughly the same time: no one else was really doing it for you, so why not? So what if you only directly referred to each other as boyfriend and girlfriend in the privacy of your own apartment, or his? So what if half of the office was entirely clueless about your relationship and the other half was actively placing “secret” bets about how long you two had been fucking? Annoyingly, Tim had been the one to be almost right: “six months ago, I’m telling you, man. That’s when he stopped eating secretaries and she got so much nicer.”

Technically, he stopped eating secretaries about a month into your relationship, and what Tim accidentally overheard was not him “eating” a “secretary”, but you weren’t about to correct him. But Max found it all hilarious: “he’s right, you’re so much nicer when that pussy has been taken care of. But I like it when you’re mean.” 

You actively choose not to think about what he meant by a “deep emotional connection” last time.

Fine, Phillips, I’ll show you how mean I can be.

“Nope, no, uh uh.” 

You put your hand just over the frilly blue lace on your hip. “I’m sorry, I don’t see the problem.” 

It had been about a month since first base and while Max had gotten notably more relaxed around you seeing him eat – he now occasionally walked around your apartment with his food in an opaque smoothie tumbler with a straw – he was still very strict about moving onto second base. 

Which, if left up to him, meant you’d be wearing a straight jacket and thick flannel pajamas. 

“Max, if we’re ever going to do this thing for real, you’re going to have to get used to seeing me naked. I’m not letting you fuck me and bite me while I’m in riot gear.”

“Okay, but, baby,” he whines and he can’t help himself from rubbing the satin bow above your crotch between his fingers. “You look like a birthday cake.” 

Is the baby blue lingerie with a strapless bra that catches around your biceps with white lace a bit overboard? Yes. But last time was ridiculous.

Max frowns, his visible pout morphing into something subtly dangerous as he realizes he can unpeel your bra with a string in the back. “Can’t I just fuck you normally in this and then we’ll try again later?”

You swat his hand away as it sneaks across your ribs. 

“No.” 

“You know, if I wasn’t already dead, I’d think you’re trying to kill me.” Smirking, he drops his hands down to your waist and, not so subtly, curves them around the mold of your ass. Distractedly, he slips one finger under the seam of your panties. You press your hands against his chest and blink up at him coyly. 

“Whatever gave you that impression.” 

He shakes his head, squeezing your ass once. “And I’m supposed to be the soulless demon with a heart of darkness.” 

“So you’ll do this?” 

With a sigh and his eyebrow jumping, he nods. “Yeah. Fine. Go get on the bed.”

Trying desperately not to squeal, you tear away from his arms and all but run and leap on top of the white towel. Max slips out of his shoes, and starts unbuttoning his shirt. You bite your lip, nerves humming in anticipation, as you sit up on your knees to watch him. To your enormous dismay, no matter how hard you worked, no matter how much spit or cum you used, you could not make him purr again. You’d had wet dreams on the idea alone of putting your head against his chest as he vibrated but he swore it was involuntary. “And,” he added as a way to soothe your ego, “I’m pretty sure it can only happen when I’m feeding.”

“Does it happen every time? Like with blood bags or back when you hunted people?”

“No,” was all he said about that.

Max slips his shirt off over his shoulders and goes to work unbuttoning his pants. When they slide off his hips, you frown. 

“The boxers with the hole in the waist? Ooh, baby, I’m so turned on when you make such an effort.” 

He rolls his eyes as he climbs in next to you. “Look, I didn’t think you’d be seeing my underwear and I need to do laundry.”

“You didn’t think I’d see your underwear in a situation where we’re going to specifically jerk each other off?”

Attempting some version of contrite, Max’s gaze falls from your face to your throat, to your clavicle, to your tits, pillowed up for him beneath the blue lace. He leans in as if pulled by magnets. 

“I’m sorry if I thought we’d both be a little more preoccupied.” 

His broad palm smooths across your thigh, around your hips, to just above your tailbone, his nose drawing indistinct lines from your shoulder to your ear. You sort of hate how quickly he can make you not irritated with him. You shift to take him into the cradle of your thighs, when he winds your panties up in his fingers and tugs. The gossamer material tightens just over the seam of your pussy, teasing your clit, you choke. That heated, teasing Max Phillips smirk spreads like hot butter across his lips. 

“What are the rules again?”

“Max,” you whine as you drag your nails over his chest and up his shoulders. But he hesitates, his hand knotting your underwear in his fist. One move and it’ll rub against you again.

“I’ll stop,” he murmurs in a half-sing-song voice. You huff.

“Silver. Bad touch, on your skin. Lightheaded or dizzy, I use the safeword. And,” you sigh. He’s so painfully handsome sometimes it hurts. He’d set out candles again, as if he needed any help in his seduction of you and he just sort of glows. You don’t know if it’s your anticipation or some vampire illusion, but every line on him is blurred. Soft, as if he doesn’t have your pleasure literally in his hands. There it comes again, that small bit of light in his eyes, the emergence of the early morning sun over the horizon. The way he looks at you makes your chest heavy. “And . . . only hand stuff,” you grumble. 

He chuckles, pouting at you in faux-sympathy as he reaches out, other hand wrapping around the back of your neck. “Only hand stuff, she’s so sad about it,” he whimpers into your cheek with a high, mocking voice. 

Your fingers dig into the skin on his chest, daring to hold him away as he goes for your mouth. “I swear to god, Max –,”

In one single fluid motion, he pushes on your tailbone, and swings your hips forward as he tackles your mouth with his own, effectively yanking you under him. You huff in surprise, before pulling away to find menace and glee in his eyes. Grins again as he nips with flat teeth on the curve of your neck. 

He plants wet, hot kisses across your chest, heat blooms against your ribs and tunnels down between your legs, as he tongues the softer places along the hollow of your throat, then up the other side of your throat, teasing your earlobe. 

“I’m sorry,” he breathes, “that was mean. What can I do to make it up to you?” 

Pressing your chest up against his, knowing he can feel the squish of your tits, you wrap your legs around his waist and pull him towards you. His hard cock rubs up against your seam and he lets loose with a muffled groan into your mouth. You roll your hips once with him between you and he turns his head to your jaw, as you both pant at the sensation. 

“You know exactly what I want.” 

His teeth graze you gently. This is an exercise in restraint for you as much as it is him. Given any other night, you’d have his pants off by now, on his back, or behind you, but you refrain. You can’t squeeze him like you want to and that only frustrates you more, makes you heated and ruffled, makes you want more of his skin on you, around you, as if he could smother you. You want to merge your bodies. Your knees dig into his ribs.

He whispers something, too low and fast for you to catch it, but it ends broken and uneasy as if you’re touching something delicate within him. Bending back with one hand, Max reaches between your legs and cups you, one finger barely pressing the wet material back inside you. 

“Was this waiting for me under all those layers?” You nod as he pushes deeper, your mouth dropping open. He kisses your chin, before tucking his head under your jaw again. “No wonder you were burning up.” 

He inhales as if his face was pressed right up against your cunt, two fingers rubbing up and down over that sodden material. It scraps against your clit and it burns. “I could eat you. Just like this.”

“Max, c’mon–,”

“I know, baby, I know.” 

Smearing that pink little bow with the smell of you, he dips his hand under the line of your underwear, past your damp curls, and soothes your overheated sex by filling it with two thick fingers. You arch, brow furrowing, mouth open, fingers clamping down around his shoulders, arousal crawling up your spine, higher and higher the deeper he goes. Max likes the build up, the tease, it’s why his thumb only hovers above your clit, the heat doing half the work for him, as he pumps his fingers in and out of you, the wet squelching almost embarrassing. Behind his hand, his hips swing in time. He groans, deep, into your ear, breathless. 

“Could come like this, baby, could come right like this.” 

The bend of his cock bumps the back of his hand as he thrusts against nothing. You hitch your pelvis up, opening wider, pussy easier within reach, and you forgo any teasing for him, hand sliding right past his boxers, molding your grip around him. He’s hot and leaking all over your fingers. 

“‘Ngh . . . shit, baby.” The arm holding him up shakes. You want to lick the salty precum but there has to be a rule about that, right? If you aren’t so desperate for that final fuck, you would have been a bit more careless. His fingers inside you press up into the places only he knows can send you into oblivion, as if grateful for tearing him apart. His wrist flicks quicker, faster into you, fingers plunging deeper, up to the knuckles, bouncing you as if you were on his cock. You match his speed with your own hand and Max hums, a dark sound verging on distressed. 

You bite your bottom lip, eyes drooping, the rocking motion scraping against your pleasure again and again, like a match scratching against the box one stroke at a time. “Maaax –,” He adds a third finger and you keen, high-pitched and desperate, the width stretching you out for a cock he won’t let you have. You grind against his fingers, the bounce knocking loose every sane thought in your head. 

Opening your eyes, you realize he’s been staring at your tits this whole time. His chest warm and glowing with sweat, his eyes track every bounce and jiggle, the cups of your bra putting them more on display than if you held them up yourself. 

“Where do you want it, darling?” His voice is strained, softer than it should be with your cunt sucking up his fingers. 

Max Phillips doesn’t do cutesy nicknames. Not during sex, not ever. Your his slut. His monsterfucker. Not – 

Your already unspooling mind struggles to grasp at darling before it slips away. 

His cock is throbbing against the palm of your hand. If you could see it, it would be flushed red, the vein at the base protruding. You pump him faster and his hips stutter. He’s so close and so are you. 

But he’s not talking about that. 

“On my tit, Max. Bite me on my tit.” 

With a groan that is all growl, all tension and feral hunger, his arm collapses and he sinks his weight against you. He manages to get his hand out, but yours is still trapped there, pinned between your tender cunt and his painfully hard cock. You writhe. “Max–,” 

His kiss against your lips is a starving sort of one, one that steals the breath from your lungs, wiping any lingering ache temporarily from your body. He licks the inside of your mouth, swallowing the moan that races from your throat into his. It’s all need, desire, a blistering familiarity that you didn’t realize existed between you two. He’s trying to say something with this kiss. 

He doesn’t give you long to read into it, as he pulls back, sinking more into his knees as he mouths the skin under your neck, above your clavicle bone, and in between the valley of your tits. His weight shifts off you, enough to pull your hand out. You arch, pushing your chest deeper into his mouth, using the back of his neck to pull you higher, he groans and licks, and you yank the tie of your bra behind your back. 

“Max, you can –,”

His hand claws at your cups, mouth consuming yours again, the ropes almost stinging your back as they are ripped so fast across your heated skin. Before you lie flat, his hand cups under you, fingers pressing into where the threads burned and forcing you to maintain that bend in your spine. 

The moment is coming. You can feel it. It’s different from a rising orgasm, or the first time he ever sucked your nipple into his mouth. Your lizard brain is sending off warning flares, but you ignore it once again. Those flares arc and bend, your arousal now fire hot. 

His tongue pressed flat, Max draws a long stripe of spit from under your breast, over the weight of it, and up your nipple, where he swirls it between his teeth. Whether Max Phillips was an ass or tits man depended on the day of the week, or whatever was blowing in the air, but he laved attention onto yours like they were the first pair he’d ever seen in his life. The skin on your other breast shines from where his fingers mold around it, smearing your wet juices all over your pebbled skin. He switches over and laps up that smell off you. 

He’s wavering, caught between drawing it out and doing it so instantaneously he might black out and miss the whole thing. Your heart racing, skin almost too sensitive, you feel like you might shudder apart.

“Max, please –,”

He chooses the second approach. 

Without warning, his fangs spring out and he latches onto the skin near the valley of your chest on your right breast. 

You yelp in surprise, pain and pleasure zigzagging like rough scissors from his bite out through the rest of your body.

Okay, that hurts. 

You gasp, bucking, yanking on his hair. “Baby, baby, gentler, be gentle–,”

He swallows and the ache lessens. Hot blood pools out of the spot where his fangs punctured you. It runs warm then cold, teasing like a feather, as it rolls down your stomach. It’s not a lot, but it's more than last time. It stains his chest too.

Slowly, that same sort of miraculous fog sinks down into your bones. The grip on his hair eases, softens, and soon you are petting him against you.

You swear you feel his fangs scrape your heart. 

“That’s good, Max, that’s so good.” Your eyes roll lazily in your head and you nuzzle his hair. “God, how does this feel so good?” 

As though determined to remind you he is more than just fangs, his hand pulls away from the mattress and slides back between your legs. You feel only one finger brush against your folds through your underwear – you’re almost disappointed, go back to using three, Max –

His finger plunges deep, deep inside of you, and you gasp, feet scrambling against the towel, as a swell of pleasure almost smothers you in an overwhelming wave. You nearly choke from the force of it. You were so overly sensitive but the gooey haze didn’t let you realize it until it was too late. You come hard, harder than you thought possible, seeing eons of galaxies and stars behind your eyes, with just one of his fingers inside you and his thumb distractedly circling your clit. 

He feels you gush around his hand, wetting his wrist, and with a moan you can feel in your ribs, he spills in his boxers, the spend running down his thigh and smearing on yours. 

Your entire body goes slack, as if someone had made all your bones disappear. His hips jerk slightly as if his orgasm is still trying to wring him dry before he stills and plucks his head from your chest, unplugging his fangs from the holes he made.

Blood immediately bubbles up from the wound and without his fangs there, it spills freely and violently over your tits, your ribs. The whiplash between your orgasmic high and a full-body weakness sends hot nausea swooping into your stomach and the room spins.

“M-m-ax,” you murmur, barely opening your mouth, your voice weak and thick as if stuffed with cotton balls. 

“Fuck, sorry –,” you can’t quite see him clearly as he moves and suddenly there’s a warmth over your chest, comforting and heavy. The blood trickles to a stop and you breathe deeply. The darkness of the room stabilizes as you fully open your eyes. The room spins but this time pleasantly. 

“Hmm, whoo, wow, ah, okay . . .”

You don’t realize he’s gotten off the bed until the mattress sags again and he’s cleaning you up with cold cotton balls. 

“So, I’m going to take that mindless babbling as a good thing.” He smiles gently, but he’s holding something back. He keeps his head low like he doesn’t want you to see his face.  

You wiggle your shoulders, as he delicately wipes you down. “What, you don’t wanna clean me up with your tongue? And why do you even use disinfectant – there’s no open wound.” You poke him in the shoulder with your toe. “And you didn’t even purr that time! I demand a refund!”

“Next time, okay?” 

You frown. “What’s wrong?” 

“Nothing. Just let me–,” 

You sit up, the dried blood pinching your skin, and he pulls away. “Max, what is it?” 

He pulls away so much, he’s on his feet by the dresser before you can touch him, the back of his arm tearing at his mouth to wipe it clean. Max is a lot of things but cold when you need aftercare is not one of them. 

“It’s nothing.” The line of his shoulders is taught, tense. But he cracks his neck and takes the Gatorade from the dresser. He finally sits back down on the bed in front of you, offering the bottle to you. You take it, unease mounting, your fingers brush his, but this time he doesn’t retreat. Instead, gently, his fingertips ghost over your wrist, down the fine hairs on your arm, drop from your elbow and settle delicately on the blue material covering the crease of your hip. Where your blood had pooled, wet, and stained the blue to a deep magenta. 

“I ruined your pretty underwear,” he says softly, forlorn. 

You move closer to him, your knee touching his hip, but you refrain from seeking out the warmth of his hands. 

“Max, I can get new ones, I don’t care about that. Please, talk to me. Did I do something wrong? Did I push you too far?”

His fingers flex around the towel, now also appropriately ruined. He shakes his head, more firmly this time. He snags his shirt off the floor, over his head, then moves towards the bedroom door.

“I don’t wanna talk about it. I’m sticky. I’m gonna take a shower. You wanna come?”

The invitation, it’s something, an encouragement you genuinely feared he might not give. Maybe it’s not you he wants to part from. 

You didn’t enter into this for the emotional connection and neither did he. You have to remember that.

“Y-yeah. Of course.”

He invited you. He still wants you around. 

Prev | Next | Series Masterlist

[she-posts-nerdy-stuff]

Analysing my favourite lines from Six of Crows chapter by chapter: Chapter 3

As before, if there are any famous/popular lines missing it’s not because I don’t like them it’s just because I have nothing more to add to the analyses/ideas already present about them in the fandom. And if there are quotes that I haven’t analysed that’s just because I wanted to include it as a favourite quote but didn’t have anything to say explanation-wise.

This is a long chapter, so I’ll see how this goes and maybe split it into two parts.

“It would have been easy to make peace. Kaz could have told Jesper that he knew he wasn’t dirty, reminded him that he'd trusted him enough to make him his only real second in a fight that could have gone badly wrong tonight."

- this is really important for me because it tells us so much about Kaz and Jesper’s relationship in so few words, as well as telling us about the characters individually as well. Kaz trusts Jesper but he can’t tell him that and keeps him at arms length: we understand that Kaz has intimacy and/or commitment issues in both platonic and romantic relationships (since at this point in time the nature of their relationship hasn’t been explored but is presented as platonic, and Kaz had not been specifically stated to have a romantic interest this early on we as the reader make early assumptions). The specificity of the verb “knew” is SO important to me as well, because we have just seen Kaz have Big Bolliger shot in the stomach on the suspicion he was dirty based on a hunch about him going to a different cafe for breakfast but he ‘knows’ with complete certainty that Jesper is absolutely trustworthy. So within barely a paragraph of Kaz’s first POV chapter we understand that Jesper, even if their relationship is complex or rocky, is incredibly important to him and that he has considerable faith in him. The choice to not “make peace”, however, even though “it would have been easy” tells us that Kaz either feels the active need to keep Jesper at a distance or is incapable of expressing the closeness he feels in their friendship. Obviously later we’re able to learn that these are both true in their own way, but the importance of it in this moment is that we are immediately tuned in to Kaz’s fear of emotional connection and invested in understanding why this is, or exactly what he struggled with. Six of Crows is a novel I’d consider to be well balanced between plot-driven and character-driven, but I definitely think that these opening chapters are very character driven so this kind of set up is what pulls us into the book and makes us desperate to keep reading.

“ ‘Another bribe?’

‘I’m a creature of habit’

‘Lucky for you, I am too’ ”

“If you couldn’t walk out by yourself through Ketterdam after dark, then you might as well hang a sign around your neck that read “soft” and lie down for a beating” - I don’t know that I can coherently explain this I just love it; the worldbuilding??? the start of this brilliant presentation of the city as effectively it’s own character, which is one of my favourite things Bardugo does in her descriptions of Ketterdam?? The character implications about Kaz??? The way it ties into his initial judgements of Wylan!???? Perfection

“He realised he felt… Saints, he almost felt hopeful. Maybe he should see a medik” - I just love this so much, it’s so funny and it’s so quintessentially Kaz, I absolutely adore it

“Usually, he liked the quiet. In fact, he would’ve happily sewn most people’s lips shut” - we should talk about this quote more as a fandom, you know, because it’s brilliant and it’s so funny and again it’s just so brilliantly Kaz in the opening pages of his perspective we get so much information about his worldview and understand him to be quite a humorous character despite the initial appearance of him from Inej’s POV. As the novels go on we see the others notice his jokes more often, but in that introductory chapter it was incredibly important that the reader received the same image of Kaz that the Black Tips did, so now we get to be introduced to the closest thing to a real version of Kaz. I think there’s still a prevalent understanding that we’re seeing a mask, but this feels more real than Dirtyhands does… if that makes sense? I could be rambling about nonsense

"He'd heard other members of the gang say she moved like a cat, but he suspected cats would sit attentively at her feet to learn her methods" - this is just such a brilliant description of what Inej can do, it gives us such a clear image without having to overexplain anything and it also introduces us to this idea of Kaz putting her on a pedestal.

' "And what god do you serve, then?"

"Whichever will grant me good fortune"

"I don't think gods work that way,"

"I don't think I care," '

"He didn't see her go, only sensed her absence" - I can't explain it but something about this is so achingly romantic to me.

"But the fact that she could simply erase herself bothered him. She didn't even have a scent. All people carried scents, and those scents told stories -" - It wasn't until someone asked me to make a post about this quote that I really thought about it and realised why it has always stuck out to me. You can see the post on my page if you're interested, but in essence I think it's really important that Kaz struggles with any sense of permanence, so the idea that the one person he cares about more than anything else in the world could vanish so completely, as though she never even existed in the first place, is genuinely frightening - especially to a boy who several times in these novels fears that he has begun to hallucinate. Kaz seems very aware that he's on the edge of something he identifies as going mad, and the concept of visual and auditory hallucinations - Jordie's voice in his head, the panic at thinking he must have hallucinated when he first sees a Tidemaker walk through a wall, the immediate fear of being attacked by a ghost, etc - is something that constantly chases him. Kaz has also spent the last 8 years of his life living in a world that continued on as though his brother never existed, the salt in the wound being that not even Rollins remembers them, so the awareness of that happening to Inej, someone he has come to care for in a way that is entirely new and incredibly overwhelming for him - "there would be no grand funerals for them, no marble markers to remember their names" "What will you leave behind, but corpses to be burned on the Reaper's Barge?" "Out to the Reaper's Barge for burning, like all paupers go" - is a deeply upsetting. This then becomes a parallel with Kaz specifically noting that he can smell soap on her in the Crooked Kingdom Bathroom Scene; in this moment she us cemented so strongly in view and becomes the tether between Kaz and his sanity by continuing to so obstinately exist in a world that doesn't seem to want her to.

"Ghosts, Kaz thought. A boy's fear, but it came with absolute surety. Jordie had come for his vengeance at last" - oh my goodness there's so much to unpack here. I have talked about this a bit before, I think it was in my (very long) post about the potential for Wylan and Kaz to become each other, but it is SO important to look at this quote and remember that when we first read it we haven't the faintest idea who Jordie is or what happened to him. With the ousting of Big Bolliger and all the talk about your gang being your family and that even if you're a liar and a thief, you don't lie to or steal from your own gang, my initial assumption upon reading this was that Jordie had once been in a gang with Kaz, one of them had betrayed the other, and it had ended with Kaz murdering him. But, of course, this is very far from the truth and this tells us so much heart-breaking information about the fact that Kaz blames himself for what happened to them. He wonders later what might have happened to them if he hadn't insisted they go and find the magician that was the first step leading them to Rollins and to Jordie's death, but we never get anything about Kaz blaming himself quite as outrightly as this, the rest of it is usually just implied. So why show us this now? I would argue because this is how Kaz genuinely feels and in the moment he thinks it he is too terrified, confused, and to some extent concerned for his sanity to push the feeling away. Everything we see beyond this point id the construct that he has convinced himself is how he feels: that it's Rollins' fault. Obviously Rollins is at least partially to blame for Jordie's death, but if I may quote myself from a previous post It's the city that kills him, Rollins is just the weapon it chooses. Jordie even says it himself - "The city's winning now, but you'll see who wins in the end". Kaz's genuine belief is that Jordie's death is his fault, but he is in far too fragile a mental state to cope with that truth (and when I say truth I mean the that it's the truth he believes that, not that it;s the truth it's his fualt because he was jsut a nine-year-old who wanted to see a magician that's a more than innocent act and, again, he was nine) so he instead exists within a façade that he has built for himself - even on top of the one he's built for everyone else. We also see a hatred of the feeling towards blaming Jordie later on in the novels, and this is incredibly important. It's almost as if the idea that it's his fault isn't even the truth, but that's a façade to overcome the ultimate horror of seeing Jordie as accountable for it all - "What do you think my forgiveness looks like Jordie?". But ultimately, this is still the warped view of the world instilled in Kaz and so many of the other citizens of Ketterdam, possibly Kerch as a whole, arguably placing the city and its infrastructure as the ultimate villain rather than the tools of it. (Wherein the tools are Rollins and Van Eck).

"The phantom was upon him, and he felt the sharp jab of a needle in his neck. A ghost with a syringe?" - This is just so funny I love it so much I think I've read SOC and CK near to twenty times each now and this still makes me laugh every damn time.

I'm going to split this into two parts from here because this is the splitting point in the chapter and this is already a pretty long post. Thanks so much for reading this, sorry it's been a while for me to post it. I'm loving this line-by-line analysis series already (I know this is only the second post but I'm still excited) but they do take a long time to put together, particularly because at this time I don't currently have an annotated version of either book. Although I am planning to buy fresh copies for the purposes of annotating them when I get the opportunity, I currently don't have my ideas recorded anywhere except this account so whenever I write a post I'm working entirely from memory beyond the actual quotes themselves (and sometimes including them too haha) or even coming up with new ideas as I write. Thanks so much for reading, I hope you enjoyed it, and if you have any questions please keep sending them in I know I haven't responded to any for a little while but I love getting them and I am working through my inbox, if a bit slowly :)

[crazylittlejester]

Jes would you like to yap about anything?

I LOVE YAPPING!! I always wanna yap about things, but sometimes it’s hard to wrote my thoughts coherently

Anyways today’s yap subject is Time because I have such THOUGHTS about him (and a lot of headcanons!!) (disclaimer: again these are just my THOUGHTS and HEADCANONS)

To me, Time is a character who often struggles with social cues and his own tone. It’s hard for him to pick up on dry sarcasm (sometimes Four, mostly Legend) and actually realize it’s sarcasm. Sometimes people think HE’S being sarcastic because he speaks so flatly and he’s incredibly direct.

“What’s the biggest thing you’ve ever fought?”

“The moon.”

He’s direct and to the point, and he doesn’t use a whole lot of words. Sometimes that’s seen as sarcasm, and I have a feeling when he was a kid a lot of adults accused him of being rude because they thought he was being sarcastic when he wasn’t.

Joy/Excitement/Happiness are the easiest expressions to read FROM him. He smiles a lot and he’ll talk more quickly about things he’s excited about, and also use a lot of hand gestures. Worry/Concern is also an easier emotion to read from him because he’ll very awkwardly hover or frown. For people who don’t know him it might just look like he’s upset or mad about something, but for people who do they know what the frown means

Anger, or Sadness, or even Fear are a lot harder to read from him unless it’s someone who’s known him for quite a while. He has little signs and tells, but the average person might assume he’s indifferent or isn’t reacting strongly enough for the severity of the situation. He feels very deeply but he doesn’t express it in the way the average person would. He might have a straight neutral looking expression but be having the time of his life, or he might be sitting in a corner frowning while watching over someone who is incredibly hurt. That doesn’t mean he doesn’t care, he just struggles to show exactly how much

He does cry, especially when he’s really stressed or frustrated with himself because sometimes he feels like he CAN’T properly express himself and people just won’t understand, or when he reaches a point where everything gets to be too much, but that’s not always sobbing. Sometimes that’s just tears running down his face while he sits there

He’s a bit awkward when it comes to physical affection, but by GOD has he mastered the shoulder pat. A shoulder pat from Time is the equivalent of a bear hug from Sky. Hugs from Time are less frequent, and he’s better with giving them to certain than he is others (like his wife, Tune/Wind and Warriors, and eventually Twilight, because he’s used to that with them), but sometimes he’s just stiff and awkward about it. He does his best

I’ve said this a LOT but I don’t think he does anything fatherly on purpose. He cares about the boys and looks after them, but in his mind he is not a dad. The others just have daddy issues /hj

This one is DEFINITELY just a headcanon I have that’s based on absolutely nothing I’ve seen from him in game or in LU, but i believe in my heart he kept his hair short as a kid because he hated the feeling of it growing out on his neck, and if he were to cut it now, he’d never get it this long again because the growing out stage was miserable for him. I think sometimes he still gets overwhelmed by hair on his neck, but he can just tie it back because it’s long enough

i’ve been thinkin a lot about Time recently, he’s the character who’s pov i’ve written the most words in, which is odd to think about since a few people have dubbed me the wars guy, but yeah Time is a special blorbo to me too and i love him 🫶

hopefully this was coherent and doesn’t have TOO many spelling mistakes 😭

[lucifers-horror-harem]

Cheering You Up Headcanons

Hey all! I decided to write some soft headcanons this time around! Plus, I added a new boy, Travis Hackett from The Quarry! I know hes not exactly the same as my usual roster of horror slashers and villains, but I love him and this is my blog soooooooo I don’t care lol Also thank you to the people who voted for the 3rd character, Otis! I really like using the poll option to see what people are interested in seeing, I might have to use it some more when I’m stuck between choices :)

Freddy Krueger:

As much of an asshole Freddy can be, he’s fully capable of toning himself down if you’re looking upset. But if he’s in a particularly antagonistic mood, the signs you’re upset will fly past him entirely until you go off on him, whether it’s crying or yelling at him for being such a dick. 

Freddy isn’t the kind to comfort you with his words, his love language tends to trend towards acts of service rather than sappy throw-away lines. He’ll never admit it, but ultimately he feels a smidge guilty for causing you more upset. So he’ll begin his scheming on a way to make it up to you.

Luckily for you, Freddy has his dream world, and he can make anything possible in your dreams. Freddy will hit you with just about everything he’s learned about you since knowing you. Do you like fancy romantic dinners? You’ve got the best seat in the house. Want to travel to places you wish you could afford? He’s got a first-class ticket to get you there. Just want a simple night in? He’s got you covered.

In all honesty, it would be a shock to see him put this much work in. Especially when half of the time you weren’t even sure he listened to what you were saying. Freddy not only listens to you, but he remembers everything. He just doesn’t like you knowing how much he truly cares. He thinks it makes him look too soft.

He’d get truly cocky as he soaks up the praise and affection you give him for such a sweet surprise. Freddy acts like it’s not a huge deal at all, and it wasn’t like he had to put much thought into it. You’re just so easy to please, he insists. But deep down even his cold black heart can feel a little something just from seeing your smile. As he lets you have your fun, he can’t help but smile to himself while watching you.

Travis Hackett:

While Travis might be awkward about expressing his emotions too freely, he’s more observant than he lets on. He’ll listen to everything you have to say, and figure out what you need based on that. He’ll let you rant and rave if you're venting until you finally let it out of your system, or he’ll hold you tightly if you’re an emotional wreck in need of comfort. And if it’s something he can take care of, well, he’s not above solving the issue himself.

Above all else, Travis makes sure you’re safe and comfortable. You mean more to him than he could ever put into words, and he’d do anything to see your smile. Even if he has a hard time expressing it, you can tell just how much he cares by the way he looks at you with adoration and softness you rarely see from him. He’s a brick wall to damn near everyone, but once you crack inside you’ll find he’s a bit of a sap. 

The next day, he’d tell you to cancel any plans you have for that night. If you ask, he’ll simply grunt and ask you if you trust him. Obviously, you do, so you let him continue his planning.

That evening, he’ll drive you to a secluded area of the Hackett property where no one will bother the two of you. When you get there, you’ll find he’s already set up camp, and you can’t help but feel a smile pull on your face. Don’t make too big a production out of it, or Travis might get too flustered. As it is he’ll keep fidgeting and rubbing the back of his neck as he insists it’s no big deal, that he uses this campsite so often that he just keeps these things here. Suuuuuure. 

He finds the outdoors peaceful and relaxing, much of his best memories took place in the vast expanse of wilderness that fell in the Hackett property, and he hopes that perhaps you’ll feel just as calm surrounded by nature. Maybe create some new memories too.

You’ll have a front-row seat to the sunset falling below the trees, reflecting over everything in sight and giving the forest a soft orange hue. And as night begins to fall, you sit by the campfire that Travis had kept up past dinner time, looking up at the stars as they shone more brightly here than anywhere else you had seen before. 

When the fire finally dies down, Travis will have you pulled to him on a blanket as you look up at the stars together and speak softly to each other as you begin to feel sleep pulling at you. Before you both fall asleep and get bit by all the mosquitos, Travis will make sure he carries you to the tent before finally settling down for the night, his arms wrapped protectively around you.

Otis Driftwood:

Otis isn't exactly the best choice if you're wanting a traditional cheering-up session. In fact, he might even complain if you pester him too much. "Can'tcha go bitch to Baby or something, I'm doing some important fucking shit here!" He'd probably shoo you along without so much as another glance your way.

After a while though, Otis will come around to the fact you need him. It's way easier for him to provide sexual affection, but genuine kindness is a bit out of his repertoire. But, after mulling it over for a while (as well as getting ripped a new one from Baby), Otis will try his best to be whatever you need.

He likes it best when all you need is for him to just exist in the same space, not needing him to provide a solution or answers. It's easy for him to just be a shoulder to cry on, that way he can't say all the wrong things like he tends to do. 

Otis also loves it when you need to have a good vent session. He'll hype you up, telling you that yeah, that guy was a motherfucker and maybe someone should do something about it. Maybe it's good if you don't let that get too far because Otis gets an itching for revenge at the drop of a hat just to make you happy. 

He also likes taking you on drives to calm you down. While he doesn't like to drive if he's too worked up because he's prone to road rage, he finds drives to be something that eases his mind when his thoughts are too scattered. And he's happy to share them with you, just so long as you don't become a backseat driver. Hell, if you ask nicely, he'll stop at whatever roadside spots you see. He’d even stop for ice cream if you’re being good.

[softguarnere]

Hi! Hope you are doing well. I read your headcanon on what they would do if reader wouldn't date a smoker. I was wonder if you could expand on luz? I love the I idea of him and his hands and it got me thinking if maybe he would star playing with readers hair. Just to have something to do with his hands.

Cold Turkey

George Luz x reader

A/N: As always, this is written for the fictionalized characters from the show - no disrespect to the real life veterans! You can find the hc that this request was based on here! I was so happy to get this request - I feel like I don't get to write for Luz all that often. I'm currently in a very loud environment, though, so if this is riddled with mistakes, I'm sorry! Thank you so much for the request, and I hope you like this 💕🕊️ Warnings: smoking, language, war

“Damnit Luz!” Joe’s chair screeches across the floor as he scoots it away from the radioman. A deep scowl marks his face as he glares at his friend. Everyone else at the table snickers, including Luz, who brushes it off with a shrug. Joe, however, isn’t done. “You’re gonna take out someone’s eye if you keep waving your hands around like that!”

“Oh, come on Joe,” Skinny cuts in. “He only hit your shoulder. Wasn’t even close to your eye.”

George nods along. “Yeah Joe. Come on.”

Joe only shakes his head. “All I’m saying is that the danger of being injured around you has gone up exponentially since you stopped smoking.”

At this, everyone at the table glances at you. They’re not very subtle. Under their sudden attention, you set down the glass you’ve been sipping from and sit up a bit straighter.

“I never told Luz to quit smoking,” you point out.

“No,” Guarnere agrees. “But you did say that you would never be with someone who smokes.”

Joe snaps his fingers, one loud click that exclaims, My point exactly!

Well, they’ve got you there.

Yes, one time while sitting around with the rest of the company and shooting the shit, you may have casually mentioned that you could never date a man who has the fondness for cigarettes that so many of the Easy Company men display. Honestly, though, some of them smoke like chimneys. Having that much smoke blown in your face when you’re around them has led to many splitting headaches. When this war is over, it would be nice to never again worry about experiencing the waves of nausea that overtake you at the scent of cigarette smoke.

To be fair, though – “I can’t help the fact that George likes me so much that he decided to go cold turkey.”

None of them can argue with that. George smiles so wide that he can’t even crack a joke about your relationship or how much he likes you.

It is, however, an undeniable fact that ever since Luz quit smoking, he hasn’t quite figured out what to do with his hands. And as someone who likes to talk, to crack jokes, tell stories, it has led to a lot of expressive gestures that no one seemed to expect from him. Also undeniable is the fact that he often accidentally smacks into whoever is nearest him. Like Toye, his newest and unwitting victim from a few seconds ago.

Bill stands and, leaning across the table, grabs one of your hands and one of George’s, and places them together on the table. The two of you automatically intwine your fingers and Bill retakes his seat with a nod, satisfied by his work.

“There. (Y/N) can just hold his hand to make sure that he doesn’t take out anyone’s eye.”

“Hmmm, that could work.” You smile. “Except, with the fraternization policy, what will we do if Captain Sobel catches us?” After all, there may be some well-known relationships between male and female paratroopers, but the only reason that they’ve lasted so long is that the captain has been unable to find any proof of them. When the others at the table sigh, you shrug. “What? Can I not play devil’s advocate?”

“Just keep your boyfriend from taking out anyone’s eye,” Guarnere grumbles. “Figure something out.”

. . .

To be fair, George does try his best not to go smacking into people when he talks. Big, sweeping hand gestures are reserved for when he gets really excited. Becoming bruised by sitting next to Luz during a story becomes less of a concern as the war drags on. But it’s not until Hagenau that you realize why.

 The skeletal, hollow buildings, so sad in their stature and dingey in appearance, offer more privacy than the foxholes of Holland and Belgium. And, once you get placed on supply duty with George, they provide more time with him.

Side by side, you take a break from sorting boxes, sitting on the floor with your backs against the wall. George is slowly coming back to himself after Bastogne. He’s . . . different, somehow, but his jokes are no longer as dark and he doesn’t scowl so much.

It hits you then, alone with him. George’s voice is light. He’s in the middle of a story about something that happened when he was in high school, and not once have you been at risk of being hit by his gesticulations. Then you realize why – as he talks, George has had his arm around your shoulders, twirling a strand of your hair around his finger as he talks.

No one has ever played with your hair like this before. George is so gentle about it, too – not at all like the big, dramatic hand gestures that the rest of the company used to tease him about. There’s something very intimate about it. You could melt right there on the spot.

More supplies are brought in to sort, forcing the two of you to break away from each other and get back to work. As you work, you can’t help but think about the tenderness of his actions. Has he done this before? No, surely you would have noticed. George has held your hand, held you tight in an embrace, plenty of times before. This, though, is something entirely new. Where did it come from?

Asking him is the obvious answer. The opportunity presents itself when you’re alone again.

“Hey, George?”

The radioman looks up from the box he’s sorting through. His eyes are bright, but there’s a weariness about them that wasn’t there before that month in the freezing cold – before the injuries and the deaths of his closest friends.

“Yes?” He asks.

What if he never does it again? you wonder, just because you asked about it?

You press your lips into a smile. “Nothing,” you lie.

George raises his eyebrows but says nothing. He offers you a grin. “Okay.”

. . .

“I’m glad I didn’t ask.”

You say it casually, offering no explanation. After a moment of silence, of waiting for more, the mattress shifts as George pushes himself up on his elbow beside you. In the rosy morning light that leaks through the windows, he’s beautiful as he looks down at you with a raised brow.

“You gonna elaborate, or - ?”

“Back in Hagenau.”

“Uh huh. What about it?”

 He doesn’t seem to have any clue what you’re talking about, even though the very thing you’re talking about is happening right now; his fingers are gently carding themselves through a lock of your hair as he watches you. A smile spreads across your lips, causing George to huff a laugh.

“What?” He asks.

“This.”

“This?”

Gently, you reach up to touch his hand that is playing with your hair. George glances down at it, never stopping his gentle motions. After a moment, he looks back at you.

“Your hair?”

“Yes.” You tap a finger against his hand. “Playing with it, I mean. I noticed it back in Hagenau, and I was worried that if I asked about it that you might stop.”

“You like it?” When you nod, George pauses to smile before he resumes playing with your tresses. “You know what’s funny? I never even really realized that I was doing it. I guess it just felt kind of natural, somehow.”

“Well don’t stop now,” you say. After all, it’s been years. Which has given you lots of time to enjoy George’s affections in this way. Still, you hope that it never stops. Not when you’re so used to it. Not when you like it so much.

George lays back down beside you now, but not before pressing a quick kiss to your forehead. His hands are still in your hair when he says, “I wouldn’t dream of it.”

[runin-reads]

James and Sirius as dads pt 2

Like I mentioned in part one, Sirius is initially hesitant to have kids because he isn’t confident he’d make a good dad, but once Harry is around 4-5 years old Sirius is ready for more. After that he and James keep popping out kids like they’re trying to competing with the Weasleys for the WW’s largest family

James on the other hand would want a big family from the start since he grew up as an only child and although he wanted siblings to play with, he didn’t have any because of his parents old age.

Sirius is in charge of the kids wardrobe. He can’t deny that despite how shitty his family is, they undeniably have style. Based on his wardrobe in the ootp film, he dresses the kids in only the finest fabrics. He has a preference for darker colours and jewel tones, but when it comes to his babies he loves dressing them in bright colours to contrast the clothes the Black family had made him wear

Prongsfoot take great joy in shopping for baby clothes every time a new kid is born. Imagine this: James flitting around a shop saying “look at how small these robes are! Look at this tiny toy wand!” whilst holding Sirius’ arm, who stares at him fondly and allows himself to be dragged along.

Every time before their kids board the Hogwarts express, they go through the routine send off. James hugs them and, whilst grasping their cheeks, showers their faces with loud wet kisses. Sirius hugs them whilst stroking their hair and the back of their necks. They arrive early so they have enough time to pay equal attention to each kid.

Prongsfoot are the type to always send letters and gifts while their kids are at Hogwarts. If they forget anything at home, James will send it. If they need anything like robes or books, Sirius will put it on his tab. Sometimes he’ll send stuff unprompted which freaks the kids out because he knows exactly what they want/need like he can read their minds

Their kids would be comfortable telling them almost everything. There’s a strong sense of trust in their family. Doesn’t matter if their kid is in trouble, their dads have their back. Pissed a professor off? Prongsfoot will be there to do damage control. Failed an exam? They’ll help their kid study or get them a personal tutor

Prongsfoot are notorious amongst the Hogwarts staff so their kids will often hear stuff like “you’re just like your fathers” and “tell your dads I said hi”

I think a lot of the kids classmates would be jealous of them lol. Not only are their dads wealthy, they’re also cool (and handsome) as well.

I love to think that prongsfoot are always in and out of Hogwarts “on business” or “to see an old friend” but mainly it’s to surprise their babies

The dad lore goes CRAZY. When the Potter kids are older they stop believing them as much so prongsfoot say “ask your uncles they’ll tell you” but even Remus and Peter don’t do a good job at convincing them

Dad lore is the reason why the kids don’t like listening to their lectures: “seriously dad/appa, after all the things you did at school…”

Parent teacher meetings are the funniest thing ever— they’re asses are NOT talking it seriously. They’d come up with a million excuses as to why their kid is in the right. Fought another student? Self defence is a perfectly valid form of violence. Snuck around after their curfew? Merlin forbid having fun. Talked back to a professor? They deserved it anyway. Of course there are exceptions to this wrt to very extreme situations, but other than that they’ll publicly stick up for their kids no matter what

It’s hard looking after multiple kids so James’ parents move into one of their spare bedrooms to help out. They move out again once the kids are teens or older. It’s not a big deal when it does happen because they see each other often anyway

Speaking of grandparents, lunch with the Euphemia and Fleamont is a weekly occurrence (yes I only remembered their names just now lol). They almost always stay for dinner as well

James is the best at consoling the kids when they’re upset and he’s the one they usually turn to when they need a good vent/cry.

It takes a while for Sirius to grow out of the emotional repression his family taught him. I think he’d have a hard time knowing what to do when his kids cry or throw a tantrum etc so he learns from watching what James does. Sirius is hard on himself until James reassures him that it’s not his fault and that he’s making good process

James would take the parenting reigns at first, with Sirius following his lead

I think they’d mainly have sons but their daughter(s) would be just as cherished

Prongsfoot don’t have favourites per say, but they rely the most on Harry who’s their eldest so he’d have the most freedom much to his siblings’ dismay

Prongsfoot would draw a hard line at bullying. If they found out their kid was a bully that would one of the only occasions prongsfoot wouldn’t be on their side. I think seeing their chill dads become stern and disappointed would make them quickly fix their act

[multiplicity-positivity]

so sorry but i need help and idk who else to ask.

i have this fictive headmate (gonna call him b) and hes the only fictive we have w source memories. in source he’s extremely homophobic and other things jn that vein. uhh he is Exactly like that in our head.

currently hes been locking himself away and doing “paperwork” (What it is we do not know) and he wont talk to ANY OF US 😭 we cant even conenct to him 90% of the time and when we can its usually js being ignored or being called slurs. i genuinely do not know what to do. we have to share a body so i know we have to connect but like I dont know how.

Hi! We’ve answered an ask a while back that was quite similar with advice on how to deal with headmates who hold bigoted ideas. Unfortunately we can’t seem to find it! So we’ll try to think of some new advice that may be useful for y’all’s particular situation.

To start off, it will be best to ensure the safety of your queer or marginalized headmates (if your system has any) first and foremost. If that means keeping these headmates away from this fictive order to protect them, that may be for the best, at least for now! No one should have to put up with being targeted or called slurs based on who they are.

We’d suggest being upfront and brutally honest with this headmate whenever he does interact with the rest of the system. If he uses a slur, say “Hey, that’s disrespectful. Cut it out.” Explain to him as best as you can that bigotry will not be tolerated by other headmates, and boundaries may need to be set up and enforced in order to ensure the comfort and safety of the rest of your system.

Perhaps remind him that introjects are in no way bound to live the lives led by their sources. If he ever expresses interest in gaining some healthy distance from his source, we do have a post that might help:

Once you’ve set up some boundaries, though, it would be a good idea to try and include him in your system’s lives as much as possible. He is still a headmate and he is just as capable of positive change as anyone else! While you do not have to tolerate any hate from him, that doesn’t mean you should have to bar him from the rest of your system entirely.

Ask him about his interests. Invite him to join when the system is doing an activity together. Ask for his opinion and input in decisions that may affect him. Make efforts to include him in discussions on and celebrations of diversity. Any way that you can show him kindness while also exposing him to the realities of marginalized groups could be very helpful.

If he won’t listen… talk to him anyway. If he has a nasty retort, either ignore it or remind him of your boundaries. If he refuses to participate, tell him that’s fine, but the invitation still stands if he ever changes his mind.

In all of this, understand that change often happens gradually. It may take a long time and much effort on y’all’s parts before he comes around and starts making strides towards positive change. Any step he moves in that direction should be met with praise and encouragement. Support him. Be there for him and understand that changing your fundamental ideas about the world can be a massive and terrifying undertaking. Please don’t grow weary and give up on him if it’s taking him a long time to make any strides towards progress!

We know this advice may barely scratch the surface, but we hope it at least gives y’all a starting point on how to approach and work with this fictive! If any of our followers have any useful advice or words of encouragement, y’all are welcome to share! Anon, we’re so sorry that y’all are having to deal with this, but we hope things get easier for y’all in the future, and y’all are able to get through to this headmate in a positive way while also protecting your own system!

Going to try and TLDR: Ensure your own system’s safety first and foremost! Set up and enforce boundaries regarding this headmate’s treatment of other members. Source separation may one day be beneficial for him! Encourage him to change, but don’t cut him off from your system entirely in the meantime - try and expose him to diversity while helping him feel included in system life. Be patient also and keep reaching out even if he appears unreceptive. Positive change may take a long time, but don’t give up! Best of luck to y’all with everything!

[meowzfordayz]

Compleeeetely almost missed this event!! I'll get my angst refill please and thank you. Gimme prompt n.11 with my man, you already know who! You can pick if sfw or nsfw >:) thanks T 💜💜💜

MILESTONE 5.0

V! 🤍 Thank you for choosing T's to refuel — we appreciate your customer loyalty! ⛽️😉😂

Is it weird that I’m drunk and on my sofa? Is it weird that I’m naked on my sofa? All alone, damn, I wish I didn’t know ya. — Kill My Time

CW: alcohol, explicit language

Sanemi believes it’s a blessing in disguise that you blocked him shortly after breaking his heart. If you hadn’t, then you’d be receiving every single one of his calls—he’s nearing ten—while he lounges naked on his couch, beer cans stacked precariously on the floor beside him. Maybe he’s trying to convince himself that They’re just busy, or maybe he’s in denial about missing the sound of your voice—your voicemail message isn’t enough anymore—or maybe he’s finally feeling sorry, but Damn it, pick up your fucking phone. And then he remembers Oh. Yeah. They blocked you… dumbass promptly downing the remainder of his eighth beer.

From the moment he saw you, he’d known that someone would leave empty chested, the other walking away with a still dripping heart staining their sleeve, because he’d stumbled over himself to say Hi, I’m Sanemi.

“Hi Sanemi, nice to meet you,” you stick out your hand, slightly warm and very soft, “Do you come here often?”

“No,” he eyes your hand suspiciously, grimacing when he realizes how sweaty his own palm is, “First time.”

In hindsight, that clammy first touch should’ve been a warning sign.

“First time in a bookstore,” you deadpan, lips pursing, “Do you prefer the library?”

Gulping, he squeezes your fingers, hoping you’re fixated on his pretty purple eyes or his wintery white hair or anything other than his pulse trembling through his fingertips.

You smirk, squeezing back, “First time shaking someone’s hand too?”

“I don’t want to let go,” he admits, reeling inwardly The fuck is this? A fucking meet-cute?!

“So don’t.”

Your flirtatious quip haunts him, especially as he opens his ninth beer. Pressing its cool metal base to his bare stomach, he tilts his head backward, stupored sigh swallowed by the living room. If only they were here to sigh with me. That’s what he misses most. Not your beautiful smile, the silence of your focus, or the tang of your wit, but the familiarity of how easily and perfectly you annoyed him. If he sighed, then you’d sigh louder, and if he sighed even louder, then soon you’d be locked in a sighing competition, one sigh away from falling into laughter — from falling back in love.

“So what are we?” he asks carefully, watching your brow for signs of unease.

It furrows faintly, his gut coiling as he realizes: I can’t tell if they’re happy or mad.

“We’re together,” you answer simply, expression relaxing as you peck his cheek, “What did you think we were?”

I don’t know he almost says, waiting for a gush of elation, peace, specialness to register, “Dating?”

“Do you want to define our relationship?” you tease fondly, his face turning pink at your directness, “Because we can do that.”

“I’m yours,” he declares, quiet and decisive.

“Mine?” you wink, stealing a sweet, lingering kiss, murmuring lowly, “I like the sound of that.”

In hindsight, he should’ve listened better, swept up in giving himself to you — for nothing in return.

“And I like you,” he whispers.

“Mm, I like you too.”

You hadn’t lied to him. Not exactly. You’d obscured the ultimate truth for something more convenient. For something shiny and tender, masking a loneliness that he’d eventually learn he could never fill.

“I should go to sleep,” he mutters abruptly, chugging his beer with stubborn reluctance, burping wetly afterwards Tengen would be proud of me proceeding to knock over his aluminum tower Eh, I guess not.

Skin prickling, he crosses and uncrosses his ankles, sunlight shifting past noon, long shadows receding from his collarbones, brightness mixing achingly with the alcohol in his vision. Scowling at the blanket strewn across an armchair, too far from his reach, he settles for resting a forearm over his eyes And you should be here with me.