#hopefully the concept got across?

[elisedonut]

fuck i'm actually going to end up enjoying Sevpercy huh

maybe in a picky I like them when they are in my head or when I do it kind of way

or in a time travel way because when it comes to Snape I like his teenage self a lot more than his adult self

[iinexorabile]

What happened between Urick and Yaha was a true tragedy tbh. Two people who were very close, who harbored a strong friendship that (at one point) blossomed into romance, but one that burned out quickly and ultimately crashed because (and these are understatements) one side was too selfish and cowardly (*cough urick cough*) and the other side FAR too obsessed (looking at you Yaha).

anyway, siri play fourth of july by fall out boy.

[black-quadrant]

I couldn’t miss doing something for Joshua’s birthday.

It’s All Hallows Eve once again, and the annual street festival is in full swing. Tradition asserts that the veil between the living and the dead is thinner, and spirits can walk the earth. Within the bracket of time between Halloween’s and All Saints Day’s sunsets, the RG and UG borders blend, but do not bleed over. This maintains stable separation but also allows just enough visibility to catch glimpses of the other side. The more sensitive humans may even hear their voices, or sense their energy when they pass through one another, comingling.

Joshua can’t help but wonder how Neku experiences it, having been the only human who’s spent so long in the Shibuya Underground and returned, alive. Then again, the spiritual idea of Allhallowtide probably hits different when you’ve come back from the dead.

Joshua wouldn’t know. He cashed in his chips and never looked back.

(That is, until he met Neku.)

Come to think of it, he can’t remember how long ago it was. The RG measures time in years, the UG measures time in days – 7, to be exact. Life measures progress by milestones, and one of the most critical milestones is the birthday.

Every year that passes draws him farther and farther away from his former existence until Joshua can no longer recall his birthdate.

And to him, it’s just as well. What’s the point of celebrating his birth when he’s dead? If anything, it’s just a bitter reminder of his failings as a human. The dead live on in the memories of those who loved them, and there’s no one left alive to burn a lantern for Yoshiya Kiryu.

This one night Joshua embraces his lonely ghost and endures the smothering crowds to behold the collective Imagination in full bloom, to reconnect with that which gives him purpose.

His thoughts again drift to Neku. Is he out here somewhere, miling around with his friends? They’ve maintained contact since Joshua restored him to the living realm via text, thanks to Hanekoma’s cross-dimensional technical prowess. It wouldn’t be out of the ordinary for him to send a message…

But by some stroke of cosmic coincidence, Neku beats him to it.

Hey, I know you’re out there, you creepy specter. Come to Udagawa.

Joshua stares, befuddled, at the message, toiling over what could possibly be in Udagawa. It’s not like they can see each other. However…

Better not be a trick, Neku. If you’ll be there, you should bring your ouija board.

Just in case, Joshua decides a costume’s in order. It’s the last thing he can grab last minute, but the longer he spends posing in it, the more befitting it feels. Besides, the Composer of Tokyo’s largest fashion district can make anything look good, even the cheesiet cape-and-cravat Draculian vampire trope.

It’s nearly midnight when he arrives in Udagawa, away from the din of the Scramble. At first, he spots nothing of note – just the underwhelming sight of graffiti. He scans the premises, scanning for anything he should be paying attention to, and just as he’s about to wilt with disappointment, a voice causes him to wheel around –

“You know, an entire city’s worth of Imagination, and you pick discount vampire. I knew you read Dracula Daily, but this is pretty lame.”

There he stands, in the equally silly getup of a butler, looking directly at Joshua, whose jaw falls comically slack. It’s seldom, if ever, Neku catches Joshua genuinely off-guard. He’ll file that one away in his mind for posterity.

“I know what you want to say,” Neku interjects before Joshua can get a word in. “Let’s just say Mr. H pulled some strings. You know, in the spirit of Halloween.”

A moment of silence stretches between them where they simply take each other in until Joshua’s composed himself and snatches control back.

“You look good. Neku.”

“Wouldn’t you know that already? Don’t you stalk me regularly?”

Joshua flashes his fake fangs.

“Oh, Neku, you’d feel me haunting you, if I were. Creepy specter that I am and all.”

Once the levity passes, a feeling of yearning pours into the space between words, settling in the pit of the Composer’s stomach. He glances at the wall displaying the vibrant illustration of headphones ensconced in wings.

“How long do we have?”

“Long enough for me to show you why I’m here.” Neku smiles as he reaches out to take Joshua’s hands to cradle them in his own, a move so unexpected and bold that it stuns Joshua speechless. Even through the layers of gloves, Neku’s touch is comfortingly warm.

“I’d like to give you something. I’ve been thinking about it for… a while. I asked Mr. H and it’s not something you have. Or… maybe it’s something you lost.”

Joshua’s eyes that had been oscillating between their joined hands and Neku’s face finally affix themselves to those big beautiful blues, his stare fraught with confusion. A gift? From Neku? For him? His confusion’s only intensified by the way Neku’s beginning to lose his resolve and fidget, almost seeming… shy.

“Interesting holiday to choose gift-giving... you caught me without a gift to reciprocate.” Joshua leans in just slightly, his gaze searching. “So, what’s the real occasion?”

It takes everything Neku has not to balk, second-guessing his gift now that he’s about to present it. What if Joshua took offense to it? Or worse – what if he hated it? He supposes there’s no consequence to it but rejection. Taking a deep breath, Neku squeezes Joshua’s hands and releases them, leaving behind a pin, one that Joshua does not recognize. Upon its face is a signature orange phone that reads a date (November 1) nestled in a bed of gleaming feathers that most definitely matched Joshua’s.

“I designed this… well–” A small laugh. “I had Mr. H help. You can ask him what stats are tied to it, but with your approval, it can be integrated into the UG…” Neku stares fixedly at Joshua, watching for his reaction as he confesses to its purpose. “The occasion is your birthday. That’s the real gift.”

Neku can safely say he’s never seen Joshua startled into such complete bare honesty like he is now, carding through an entire deck of emotions, and all the cards are facing up. When the power of speech is finally returned to him, he doesn’t quite know how to wield it.

“...you… he told you?” Indignation, which falls flat. “I… just… don’t celebrate…” His voice trembles, much to his chagrin. “...what made you think about my birthday?”

“Everyone deserves a birthday, Josh. Whether you forgot it, chose to forget it, or whatever… you’ve made a mark on this world. I wouldn’t be the person I evolved into if it weren’t for you  So… maybe it’s presumptuous, but I thought… I could give you a new day to associate with…”

Now, Joshua’s bottom lip is trembling, and it’s worth the risk for Neku to yank him by his silly cape collar into a hug. Shockingly, Joshua burrows into him. Neku can tell he’s overwhelmed, and he can only hope it’s by positive emotion. So, while he works through it, Neku holds him securely, not too tight to stifle him, not so lax to allow him to flee. Joshua’s petite shoulders quiver once, twice, and with a slow breath he picks his head up and braves eye contact.

“And why did you pick All Saints Day?”

“Well, you’d consider yourself a saint, I’m sure.” He grins as he bumps his forehead lightly against his former partner’s.. “It’s… a day to honor passed saints… and, in a way, your death, your ascension… I guess you’re kind of like a saint, and you now aid the dead. So, I thought it’d be an appropriate day to commemorate who you are now…” Really, it was the perfect combination of Joshua’s life-to-afterlife, acknowledging him and the person who died to make him… well, him.

“...Neku… This is…” His hair spills into Neku’s face as Joshua bows his head. “...the meaning of the motifying ordeal of being known, isn’t it?” In a surge of elation, Joshua lays a decidedly chaste kiss on his lips, only to be immediately surprised when Neku returns it. And gives him another, and another, until he knocks one of those fake fangs loose, but Joshua doesn’t notice, for he’s melting from the warmth of Neku’s fondness when he whispers into his ear: “Happy Birthday, Joshua.”

[ssreeder]

I just read chapter 23. When I tell you I SCREAMED--

No but ahh your such an amazing writer lol

Awwwww I screamed when I posted it because it’s DONE!!

(Ok well not done done because we have the entire last section with reunions and whatever but still RIA IS A WRAP!!)

[soupuurr]

𝑠𝑝𝑖𝑑𝑒𝑟-𝑚𝑎𝑛!𝑐ℎ𝑟𝑖𝑠 head-cannons

pairing. spider-man!chris x sub!reader

genre. smut

⟶ cw. explicit content, masterbation, dirty talk, praise, web play, dry humping, overstimulation, oral. MDNI

note. back (hopefully) from my hiatus everyone… sorry for leaving y’all high and dry LMAO but here’s a cool concept i thought about after playing spider-man on my pc

spider-man chris who comes home after a tiring day to see you snuggled up on your bed, wearing nothing but his t-shirt and a pair of red panties. his favorite. he can't help but walk over to you and sneakily trace his fingertips over your hip. the heat of his fingers seep through the cotton material, prompting a startled gasp to fall from your lips. "shh, jus' me." he slips his hand under the fabric and pulls his mask off of his head before his eyes greedily rake over your moon bathed body. "wearin' my favorite panties huh? 'turns me on."

spider-man chris who pins your hips against the mattress and fucks you stupid whenever his mission doesn't go as planned. all of his pent up anger and frustration erupts and is directed at you, but you love it. "nothin' ever goes my way—fuck—at least i got you, yeah?"

spider-man chris who desperately pumps a hand over his cock in a nearby restroom because you sent him lewd pictures of yourself, texting him about how much you missed him, and that you wanted to feel him inside of you. you knew that he was in the middle of something important, but you couldn't care less—and chris was infuriated by how you had him wrapped around your finger, because he always found himself touching his cock at your words. he’d be hidden from sight, bottom lip slotted between his teeth with the majority of his suit bunched at his thighs. his mask would be carelessly draped over a random surface while his fist would furiously tug at his length.

spider-man chris who webs your hands behind your back, rivaling in the way you sat helplessly while the sticky substance held your wrists together. his tongue would slowly glide across his teeth as he felt undeniably aroused at the sight of your curious eyes gazing up at him, obediently waiting for his next move. he'd rummage through your bedside drawer before pulling out a tiny bullet vibrator, pink lips curling into a wicked smile as he eyes you like you were his fucking prey.

spider-man chris who grinds your hips over his cock while his suit was still fully on. his length would prod at your cunt while his fabric covered fingertips guided your trembling form. “doin’ so good f’me… gonna make me cum in my suit—shit.” he’d roll his head back, masked eyes shutting as his skull thumps against the wall. it wouldn’t take long for lengthy spurts of cum to darken the red material by his crotch. you’d pull his mask off—nearly cumming yourself as you observe the way his hair messily pooled at his forehead, tears of pleasure welling up at the corners of his closed eyes. his jaw fell slack as his hands gripped the flesh of your moving hips, hissing at the overstimulation. “t-too much.”

spider-man chris who eats you out with his mask on. he’d smirk against your pussy with his mask bunched above his nose, strands of his brunet hair pooling out of the bottom and curling at the ends. you’d claw at his head, pulling him into your body as he hums and purses his lips around your pulsing clit. his blue eyes would hungrily lock onto your own—not that you could see them—and his hands would rest at your inner thighs, occasionally pushing them apart when they’d close around his head. he thought it was just the hottest thing ever to have you falling apart against him while he tongue fucked you with his mask on. “you’re so beautiful like this, you know that?”

[irisintheafterglow]

hi!!! could i request pro hero!bakugo & pro hero!reader where bkgs doing an interview and they ask about relationships and his answer is “I thought you people already knew that im married”

i have no idea how to word things but i hope that was readable🙏🙏

keeping it in the family

wc: 1.6k

cw/tags: swearing, mentions of drinking and alcohol, established relationship, dialogue-driven

note: RAHHH I LOVE HUSBAND BAKUGO. anyways !!! i hope you like this, i did get a little carried away when writing it so hopefully it makes sense. thank you for your ask!!!

likes, reblogs, and replies are always appreciated <3

“And we’re on in five, four, three, two…give ‘em hell.” The roar of excited applause jumbles together with the late-night show’s opening theme and the screams of excited fans can still be heard even as Kirishima flashes a blinding smile to the camera. 

“Good evening, everyone, and welcome to Heroes on Heroes! We’re so glad you’re joining us tonight, seeing as this is the finale of season one!” The audience cheers with fiery passion and it makes the three heroes onstage chuckle nervously. This was going to be a long night, especially if the superfans were crying after every word they spoke. “I’m Red Riot,” he pauses while the cheering erupts once again, “and I’m joined by my fellow pros, Chargebolt and Dynamight.” You wince from your place at sidestage from the sheer wave of noise that slams into your eardrums when the latter is introduced. 

“Thanks for having us tonight, man,” Denki grins. He eagerly drums the armrests of his chair, to the left of Kirishima. “I’ve been looking forward to doing one of these since I saw Deku’s a few weeks back.” 

“It’s a great concept, really. I love being able to just chat with you guys and shoot the shit about hero stuff. It’s so manly.” Kirishima turns expectantly to the other hero sitting to his right, whose hot-headed nature was blatantly obvious by how he was slumped in his chair, squinting slightly at the burning spotlights and clicking cameras. You admire Kirishima’s confidence in forcing Katsuki to say something. “What about you, Bakugo? How’re you feeling tonight?” 

“I’m alright,” he shrugs indifferently. Your breath catches in your throat and you can hear the Dynamight agency’s publicist put his head in his hands. “It’s been a while, so it’s good to see you guys,” he adds with unexpected fondness and you exhale in relief. His eyes meet yours for half a second and he shoots you a wink that makes your knees wobbly. “I saw that save at the bridge collapse last week, Shitty Hair. Pretty decent work.” Kirishima blinks once, twice, and then glances at Denki. Katuski’s blank look narrows into a scowl. “The hell are you looking like that for? I got shit in my teeth or something?”

“No, no. Sorry, man,” Kirishima laughs. “I just wasn’t expecting a compliment from you so early in the show.”

“Yeah, we thought we’d have to booze you up a little more to get you to be nicer,” Denki jokes and he recoils a bit when he’s struck with a molten hot glare from the hero across from him. 

“Whatever you’re about to say, bro, don’t say it,” Kirishima warns and the crackles in Katsuki’s palms gradually dissipate. “But, I’m wondering too. What’s with the good mood?” 

“I guess I feel like playing nice tonight,” he answers cryptically, his gaze flicking over to you again with amusement. You can almost sense the fainting girls falling over each other in the front row. Kirishima’s attention subtly darts over to you and a knowing smirk grows over his face. It was the first time you and Katsuki were at the same press event, since you both thought it was too dangerous to sneak around until now. “But, talk about that bridge save. I don’t think a lot of people know that the guy was wanted by several agencies.”

“Ooh, yeah,” Denki agrees with a quick sip of his drink. He swallows and sets the glass down with a light thud. “He’d been giving us hell for weeks. It's not really the best matchup for a sand villain to be going up against an electric hero.”

“It was the sand villain and his wife, wasn’t it? That chick with the melting Quirk?”

“Yep, they were a nasty couple to deal with,” Kirishima confirms. “I had to keep track of this guy’s damn sand spikes and his wife turning the floor to goop at the same time.”

“Goop is a weird-ass way to put it,” Katsuki points out with obvious distaste. 

“Yeah, but he was a pretty goopy guy.” Chuckles ripple through the audience and you can’t help breaking a smile too at Kirishima’s joke. 

“I think for me, at least,” Denki adds, “the biggest pain was the fact that they were married, and they had, like, marriage telepathy or something.”

“Bro, I thought that was just me! Here I was, thinking that I’d incapacitated one and split them from the other, when bam! Both of them appear in front of me like a damn genie.” 

“You ever have to deal with villain couples, Bakubro?”

“Nah, not recently. We’ve been doing a lot of big raids on all the crime families downtown.” He flexes his right bicep and pulls back the sleeve of his shirt to show a gnarly purple spot growing on his skin. “Got this little beauty three days ago from a neo-Hassaikai asshole.” You're not fazed by the ugly shade of the wound because you were the one who stitched up the...less visible results of the raid.

“Jeez, man,” Denki says in disbelieving awe at his friend’s injury. “If you ever need backup, we’d love to do a team up with you.” 

“I think I’d rather die–”

“My agency would also love to team-up with you,” Kirishima interjects before Katsuki can finish his thought. The heart rate monitor of his publicist begins to rapidly beep behind you. “We can have a threeway team-up! That’d be pretty cool, don’t you guys think?” 

“What if we all just merged into one big super agency? Like a big family?”

“That sounds like the stupidest shit–” Again, Kirishima cuts off Katsuki’s brash protests and saves them from being taken off the air.

"That would be so awesome."

“Would that mean we’d have to get pro-hero partners, too? Keep hero work in the family?”

“I think Salonpas would have heart palpitations if we said we were trying to keep hero work within the family,” Katsuki points out and his friends nod in agreement. “On another fuckin’ note, that Half-and-Half idiot keeps hogging the number two spot and it pisses me off.” Though you didn’t often encounter Todoroki while you were on patrol, you knew that he was adamant about keeping work life and family life separate. It made him even more of a dedicated hero and a recent bust of a notorious crime ring bumped him into the number two spot over Dynamight for that month. You didn’t hear the end of it from Katsuki. 

“He and Deku just work really efficiently, Bakubro.”

“I can efficiently slam both their skulls into a–”

“You know what would solve that problem?” Denki butts in unceremoniously, covering up his harsh words for a third time. Katsuki grunts in response and the lightning-decorated hero gives him enthusiastic finger-guns. “Combining and making a family agency.”

“What are the chances that Sero would want to join too?”

“Probably pretty high,” Kirishima guesses. “He’s at my place every other week, anyway, so he’s basically my brother.”

“Alright, maybe this could actually work, then. I just need to find a smoking hot hero wife.”

“That’ll probably be the hardest part, buddy–”

“What about Bakugo?” You stiffen and the three guys turn their attention to a voice calling out from the audience. Speaking during the interviews was strictly prohibited until the question and answer section, but getting Katsuki’s attention was a surefire way to derail the entire episode.

“The fuck do you mean, what about Bakugo? Who the fuck said that?”

"Dude, just ignore them."

“Can’t be a family agency if Bakugo never gets into relationships,” the same nasally, irritating voice argues and your face feels like it’s been set on fire. Kirishima’s attention jumps to you for a moment and then back to his friend, whose palms are starting to spark like fireworks. “Do you just get no bitches, or something?” The audience gasps and security finally arrives to escort the disturbance out of the building. The director is ready to stop the cameras and jump to a commercial break, but Katsuki speaks before he can order the sound crew to cut the mics. To everyone’s surprise, his voice is nothing but amusement, like the insinuation didn’t bother him in the slightest. 

“You think I don’t get into relationships?”

“Bakugo…”

“It’s alright, Pikachu. I really don’t give a shit about whatever that guy said,” Katsuki reassures his friend with a sly glint in his eye. His friends watch him warily, like a grenade on the verge of exploding. Once again, burning red eyes meet yours with a single question that you answer with a resolute nod. “I’m not gonna blow up, so stop looking like that. Really, I don’t care.”

“Why not?” A tense beat of silence passes, then–

“I thought you people knew that I’m married.” A shit-eating grin spreads across your husband’s face as gasps of shock burst from the audience. Kirishima and Denki both shake their heads in exasperation. They knew already, of course, but they didn’t expect him to reveal his relationship status as a result of a heckler. “Yep, going on a year and a half, now. Around five years together total coming this winter.” More collective cries of jealousy, surprise, and betrayal shake the building’s foundation. "If you don't believe me, ask these guys."

"Yeah, we were at the wedding, too. It's hard to keep it a secret when all of your friends are also high-profile heroes."

“Can you guys believe that he fell in love during the winter?” Denki’s thumb juts out toward his friend, who frowns at the mere mention of cold weather.

“I fucking hate the winter,” he grumbles. 

“We know, man,” Kirishima says sympathetically, unsuccessfully hiding a chuckle. “You’ve been saying that since high school.”

“Yeah, and shit hasn’t changed,” Katsuki bites back with lighthearted indignance. “Look, they saved my ass when it was cold; how was I not supposed to fall in love with them?” To your delight, his complexion has turned a slightly darker shade of pink. “Yeah, I love them. What about it, asshats?”

“Is this a bad time to bring up the family agency again?”

“Let’s go to commercial before I blow this fucking chair to pieces.”

if you enjoy my writing and would like to support me, you can buy me a coffee on my ko-fi! you can also check out my full masterlist here :)

[yandere-sins]

AAAHHH THE HANDMAIDEN READER KISSING THE LOWER SOLDIER IDEA IS SO CUTE IM CRYING- Imagine if the reader saved the soldier; he was injured badly in the middle of a frozen lake and due to him falling down the lake cracked. So reader jumped into the lake, saved him, and gave him a mouth to mouth cpr. She also took care of him, but one day she's too focused on taking care of him and she didn't realize that Childe's too close to the room already. It caused her to rush and drop her handkerchief.

Jealousy, jealousy is all I can say to that ;)

Sorry for the long wait, but I also have one more draft with a naughty story about the handmaiden concept as apology! Hopefully I'll get to finishing it soon!

»»———————— ♡ ————————««

Childe waited in dead silence in the shadows as he watched you take care of the soldier.

Puddles of water surrounded the two of you, more than just from the snow being dragged in, and not even the fire you lit could dry them fast enough. Your clothes clung to you, the curves of your body inevitably burned into his mind as you wrapped a bandage tightly across the soldier's chest, securing his arm skillfully.

This was the closest he had ever gotten to you. Even though he lost the pursuit somewhere between the steep Snezhnaya mountains and the frozen lakes that lay dormant in the snow, he was able to pick up your tracks just hours later. You were never that careless, never that boring when it came to running from him, so seeing you with the soldier came as a surprise. Childe wanted to capture you; you wanted to stay as far away from him as possible. And like magnets, you two kept attracting and repelling each other constantly.

But not now. Childe was finally able to see you in your full glory, your back turned, but the beauty of your muscles visible through the dark fabric that clung to you. Every piece of clothing was so expensive, yet it did nothing to elevate the natural beauty you already possessed. The few glimpses of your hair were enough to make him sweat, and although he was so close, he couldn't bring himself to barge in and destroy this blissful moment.

He had gone completely mad, but he knew that the second you noticed him, you would slip from his grasp, and the game would start anew.

Although he loved the chase, Childe appreciated the moment of respite. He was the shadow hunting you down, and right then and there, that shadow remained behind the gap in the door, hoping for one more glimpse. One more memory revealed, to add to his little, depraved library of fantasies, your face as elusive as you were.

Of course, he hated how much your focus was on the soldier. That he got to see your beautiful face without the hood, receive your kind treatment, feel your soft touch, and be in your outstanding presence. But Childe was also thankful to him for being a fool. Otherwise, he'd never gotten you to settle down for a while, long enough to catch up and witness you in all your glory.

His downfall was simple—you, always you.

Childe should have waited, should have gotten his fix like any good addict, and then acted. But his patience was wearing so thin as he watched you check the soldier for other wounds, inspect bruises, and gently comforted him with verbal reassurance. Childe, too, got hurt. Bled and trembled, but you never showed him the same grace. Perhaps he should have injured himself on one of your chases, badly enough for the Tsaritsa to order you to retrieve this pitiful, desperate boy.

He should have waited, but his body slipped through the gap on its own, taking one step after the other. You were close enough for him to grab your hair, twist you around, and reveal your face to him before he'd maul you like the madman he was. But in the trance Childe found himself in, he forgot one very significant risk to his plan.

The puddles.

The sweetest, purest gasp escaped you as you jolted to your feet, grabbing your hood as you rose. Before Childe could latch onto you or the soldier realized what was happening, you were out of the window, gone with the cold wind of the snowstorm that blew in. Childe stood motionless as he tried to register the loss of the chance he had just blown before retracting his hand, covering his face as he began to laugh. Quietly first, then louder until the desperation took hold.

"Sir?" the soldier asked, confused, afraid, in pain, and immediately, all laughter ceased as Childe breathed out, feeling like he was truly going crazy. What an amateurish mistake he made. You could not be bested when he made such dumb mishaps.

"What they look like?" he groaned, raking his hand down his face, needing the pain of his nails to settle the rage he felt at his own failure.

"Huh?" the soldier answered, stupidly so. Did the broken arm muddle his brain?

"What," Childe growled, "did they look like?"

The soldier gulped visibly at the rapid changes of demeanor, stuttering as he tried to explain your angelic features. It sounded nothing like you. He didn't even get close to describing how wonderful and amazing you were, even though his face slowly turned red. It pissed Childe off. That lowlife had no right to get flustered imagining your face. He was in no position to look happy and smitten with you when you already belonged to Childe.

"You're fucking useless," Childe mumbled in the middle of the soldier's miserable attempts to describe your beauty to Childe, who knew you best. Who knew you perfect and proper at the Tsaritsa's side as well as violent and bloody in the middle of your enemies' dead bodies.

Immediately, the soldier's stammering came to a halt as he looked down, regret in his eyes that matched how pathetic he was. It was then that Childe let his attention drift, his eyes falling on the soldier's healthy hand, which was clutched weirdly around a piece of fabric.

"Give me that," he growled, and the soldier reluctantly tried to hide his hand at his side. "Now."

Childe's eyes widened as he realized what the soldier had held onto, the delicate embroidery of the Tsarita's crest on the handkerchief nothing a mere footman would receive. "They gave it to me to help with the pain," he muttered, and Childe cared very little how hurt the soldier sounded now that he had to give up his trophy.

Letting the handkerchief dangle in front of his face for a while, Childe turned towards the window you left from, regretting not going after you. Eventually, he brought it to his face, rubbing the soft, damp fabric against his cheek, the feeling resembling your caress. A spark of delight went through him as he noticed your scent still clinging to it faintly, and he realized you must have left him this gift out of affection. It had been right not to follow you directly, or else he might have missed your gracious present! So even if he lost the chance to finally have you all to himself, not everything had been lost after all.

"I could paint them for you," the soldier suddenly said. "Arms busted, but if you want to see them so much, I could draw their likeness for you once I'm better, Sir."

Childe slowly twisted back, a newfound hope in his eyes as he looked at the soldier. A maniacal grin found its place on his lips as he stared the man down, unblinking.

"My, why didn't you say so earlier?" he asked, his mood improving by the second. First the gift, now a chance to see your face after all! Your picture deserved the space beside him in bed until the day he'd get to rest your body there. Childe's expression was so sinister that it made the soldier shiver—not from the cold this time, but from the deadly aura the Harbinger emitted.

Grabbing the man by his healthy arm, Childe pulled him to his feet, steading the soldier before they could make their way out of the west wing. "I know just the place, Comrade! I'll get you to a good doctor and make sure your arm is fit in no time."

"And then," Childe added, his smile turning into an excited, boyish grin, "You can tell me all about my beloved."

[ryescapades]

omg hai...... can i please request a loserumi (narumi) of him religiously admiring an idol!reader.. like he'd almost always show up to all her concerts and fan meetings to the point where his followers would always upload posts of him getting seen fanboying in public 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭

— narumi gen, japan's strongest anti-kaiju combatant biggest fanboy ever.

characters: narumi gen (kaiju no.8) x idol fem!reader genre/warning: kinda headcanon format, none i think a/n: this is such a new concept to me so it took me a while to come up with something. thank you for the req anon! hopefully you don't mind me using kpop as the ref since i'm more versed in that compared to irl jp idols TT

pt.2

loser!narumi who undoubtedly has a stan account of you, his favourite artist across all social medias where he posts fancams, edits, merchs, etc.

loser!narumi who probably has a lot of customized/official jerseys with your name and birthday number printed on them. even sets his lockscreen with a picture of him wearing it or something.

loser!narumi who listens to your songs religiously and learns almost all of your choreographies. he's girlypop like that.

loser!narumi who has a 'y/n shrine' at home where he puts all of your albums, photocards, posters and prints that he got (also most likely he has a flag of your face on japan's logo hung in his bedroom. if you know that kpop idol on american flags, then you'd know what i mean).

loser!narumi who's your biggest defender and truther, he's never letting a hater of yours even breathe peacefully they gotta sleep with one eye open every night (he fights with them on twt and insta on a daily basis).

loser!narumi who definitely trash-talks Dispatch whenever you accidentally/mistakenly end up in a dating allegation.

loser!narumi who takes impromptu day offs from his captain duties in order to attend every single one of your concerts/fansign/cupsleeve events, especially when you're doing a tour in japan. he's in disguise, of course (japan would definitely riot if they see their cherished protector so much as mundanely breathe the outside air).

loser!narumi who still gets noticed by your other fans during said events. not like he tries that hard to hide himself anyway. not when he's loudly cheering along the fanchants during concerts, your lightstick held in his hand and he's screaming your name at the top of his lungs like his life depends on it (it does, he thinks).

loser!narumi who still pathetically denies the pictures of him posted on social media, saying he had a doppleganger or some shit (boy you ain't slick wtf that's clearly your ass squealing and dancing there).

loser!narumi who goes absolutely batshit crazy when you make eye contact with him or look directly at his camera when he's filming you or hold his hands and talk to him so sweetly during fansign events.

loser!narumi who giggles to himself, rolling around in bed, kicking his feet and shit whenever you reply to his comment during your live stream.

loser!narumi who always brings along a photocard of yours everywhere he goes, even during missions. "that one's for you, y/n!!!" *proceeds to kiss your photocard repeatedly* —narumi after killing a kaiju, probably.

loser!narumi who's a teensy bit delulu thinking one day he might be the one to have you, his dearest idol whom he loves so much <3

©🅁🅈🄴🅂🄲🄰🄿🄰🄳🄴🅂. do not steal, translate or repost my work anywhere else !

[whore4gwen]

Everything & More･ﾟ･｡

Young!Larissa x Milf!Reader

A/n: I have a screenshot of the ask, but I can’t find the actual ask anywhere!?😭 I sincerely apologize & hope whoever gets to see it! Hopefully, whoever did ask, I hope you don’t mind that I changed the concept slightly.

It’s been way too long since I’ve written for dear Larissa. I hope this is acceptable.

Tags: age gap, slight guilt, oral sex, begging, humiliation, pet names, slights religious themes, brief face riding, volume control, slight orgasm denial, borderline obsessive Larissa, Larissa is NOT a minor, play it safe & go with 19, top Larissa, bottom reader, fingering, all consensual, down bad reader & a very down bad Larissa, I think that’s it lmk if I missed any!

———————————————————————

You knew it was wrong, but how could anything that wrong feel so good? A small gasp erupted from your chest as butterflies filled your stomach.

Larissa pulled your thighs, scooting you, as if possible, closer to her ravenous mouth. She feasted on your center voraciously, as if she had been starved.

“Ooh Larissa.” You moaned as quietly as you could, burying your finger tips within the strands of Larissa’s hair, riding her face.

Your legs clutched together, suffocating Larissa between your thighs; not that she minded though, eating you out was heaven, it was all she imagined that it would be and more.Larissa would gladly worship the very ground you walked on, expecting any fate you deemed fit. She just couldn’t get enough of you, your smell, taste, sound, it consumed Larissa’s every thought.

“I-I’m so so close, please!” You begged, eyes rolling to the back of your head.

Smirking, Larissa pulled away from your soaping core, “I would be quiet if I was you darling, it would be a shame if your daughter woke up and walked in on her mother, with her legs wide open, whoreing herself out to her daughters best friend.” Larissa teased in fake pity.

Groaning at yourself, you look away from Larissa, regret washing over you. Before you could think too much more about it, a bolt of ecstasy shot through you as Larissa pumped two fingers into you eagerly.

You quickly slapped a hand over your mouth, trying to muffle the sinful sounds threatening to fill the air.

“It turns you on, doesn’t it?” Larissa asked, licking a broad stripe up your clit. Confused, your brows furrowed, as you gave her a questionable look. Smirking again, “It turns you on having your daughters’ friend fuck you for anyone to see, for her to see, doesn’t it?”

Blushing, you quickly advert your eyes away from Larissas. The weight of her words gnawing at your chest. You want to feel more than a tinge of regret, but it’s so difficult when a sexy blonde is knuckles deep inside you. Larissa watches a hoard of emotions sweep across your face. She smiles menacingly at her small victory.

Everything is going exactly as Larissa anticipated. She got close to your daughter so she could get close to you, everything Larissa did, she did for you.

[arachpool]

Transmasc!James who hasn’t told a single person outside of his family, not even Sirius knows until he begins to live with the Potters. It got sorted out at Hogwarts so no one would ever know, and it wouldn’t get figured out, he would just be James. No one knew what was in the past. James had always been James. No one could ever figure it out.

Ideally.

James’ whole perfect set up seemingly crumbled to the ground after a Quidditch game against slytherin that ended too quickly and resulted in an overall win, but didn’t really commemorate toward the House Cup due to lack of points and a too-quick catch of the Snitch. James was eager, sue him.

He was alone in the locker room, as usual, as he always waited for the rest of his team to exit before even beginning to change. He had been in the middle of changing when Regulus barged in, clearly in the wrong locker room.

Dread was barely enough to explain the way James felt, yanking his robes to his chest to hopefully cover the dark crimson binder that constricted his chest. Regulus noticed it. Of course he did. He was too observant not too.

Regulus wasn’t stupid. It clicked awfully quick for him, and then how drastic this must feel for James hit him like a brick. Eyes widening, he made quick work of an exit, huffing out an apology.

James nearly cried that night, and decided confronting Regulus would be the best option.

So he managed to find the younger before Quidditch practice, tugging him into a random empty classroom.

“What, Potter?” Regulus asked with slight annoyance at being disrupted. James swallowed.

“Yesterday. About yesterday.” It clicked in Regulus’ head what James was getting at. Regulus blinked up at the brunet. “Can you not…tell anyone? Like- please? I just-”

“That I walked into the wrong changing room? Potter, why in the world would I tell anyone that?” Regulus quickly covered, shaking his head in mock annoyance. James blinked. He wasn’t stupid. He knew Regulus knew. He also knew Regulus was obviously already denying the concept. A warm smile spread across James’ face, one that made Regulus’ heart skip.

“Thank you, Regulus.”

“Sure, Potter. Sure.” Regulus left the classroom as quickly as possible, desperately attempting to shake the feeling in his chest.

Months passed, and with each one, James and Regulus grew closer. It wasn’t intentional at first, James would beg to be Lily’s plus one to Slughorn’s Slug Club parties, and Regulus was a part of them, and who could really blame James for gawking at Regulus when he first saw him in dress clothes. They’d talk at the parties, more words being spoken at each one until they started hanging out outside of these things; sneaking up to the Astronomy tower at night, huddling under James’ invisibility cloak as they searched the castle for places to just hang out without the chance of being caught.

Until one day, James trudges into breakfast looking like fresh hell, and barely speaks to any of his friends. As if knowing this was a monthly occurrence, none of his friends even batted an eye at the mood shift. Sirius even continued on like nothing was different. Regulus had noted this during prior months, but didn’t care as much as he did now.

Again, Regulus wasn’t stupid. He could put two and two together.

So after James rejects Regulus’ offer to hang out after practice, James is wholly shocked to find a pile of items sitting on his bed when he enters the guys’ dorm that night. Peter and Remus had already knocked out, it being so close to a full moon that Remus was too exhausted to even bother going to Sirius and James’ practice. Sirius was too clingy to notice it, crawling into bed with Remus almost instantly.

James, on the other hand, was gentle with his random gifts as he examined them. On his bed sat a dark green blanket and a small box with a note placed atop it. He unfolded the note gingerly, smiling stupidly at Regulus’ neat handwriting.

My sun,

The blanket has a heating charm on it for you, and the box has some chocolate frogs and also chocolate from the kitchen. I had a House elf deliver it for me. I hope you feel better.

-R.A.B.

James couldn’t help the grin that plastered over his face. He sunk into the bed, positioning himself with the new blanket and popping a piece of chocolate into his mouth.

The next morning, Regulus was hit in the temple with a paper airplane. He gave an irate glance toward the origin before melting at James’ goofy grin. He neatly unfolded the parchment, smiling at the messily scrawled out ‘thank you I luv ya’ in still wet ink.

[penguwastaken]

About Brainwashing in Danganronpa

Hello to all 3 of the people who see this account. A few months ago, I made a thread on hit website Twitter dot com about brainwashing in the Danganronpa Series. I discussed where it came from, how it works, and how the brainwashing of class 77-B was never a retcon. The thread got a lot of attention there, even getting a "debunk" on other hit website Reddit dot com (lmao). Due to that, there's been a lot of responses and questions. Since I can't really update a Twitter thread, I decided that I'd make the Ultimate™ Brainwashing thread and hopefully dispel any information on the subject while making my original points more clear and covering things I failed to cover. So here it is: Brainwashing in Danganronpa, how it works, where it came from, and how it was intended from the start. (a 🧵 except not really) *Massive spoilers for Danganronpa Zero, Danganronpa 2, Danganronpa Another Episode, Danganronpa Togami, and Danganronpa 3, as well as the series as a whole*

Danganronpa Zero: First Sighting

Brainwashing has its roots all the way back in the second official entry produced in the series, Danganronpa Zero. During the story's events, Ryoko comes across a secret cult made up of students from the reserve course. They're seen staring at a strange video, seemingly turning them and turn them into mindless zombies.

The video depicts members of the student council killing each other. Ryoko is stunned while watching it. She can barely look away, but eventually through force of will she does. This same video is later used to convince the reserve course to rebel.

The way it's described to work is that it uses their “pent-up emotions,” implying that their emotions played a role in its effectiveness. It's also worth noting that the novel itself refers to what is happening as brainwashing, making this objectively the first depiction of brainwashing in the series right from the second entry.

Danganronpa 2: Now it Gets Dubious

Our next instance of brainwashing comes from Danganronpa 2. The concept is brought up multiple times, such as when Makoto states that the Ultimate Despairs were brainwashed or how the Neo World Program is good at treating brainwashing, though the details of what brainwashing actually means in this context are kept vague.

It's also worth noting that Danganronpa 2 was being written around the same time as Danganronpa Zero and Kodaka wanted concepts from the novel to appear in Danganronpa 2, likely so readers would feel validated. This is why things like Izuru Kamukura and the reserve course play huge roles in Danganronpa 2, it's not too much of a stretch to say that the same applies with brainwashing. One detail we’re given about the brainwashing is from Monokuma, who states the Ultimate Despairs were brainwashed by Junko taking advantage of their feelings. Specifically love, hate, grudges, and "anything really". If that sounds familiar, it’s because that’s exactly how the brainwashing video from Danganronpa Zero was described to function, using their pent-up emotions.

I should mention that Monokuma and Junko are known for being unreliable narrators who often stretch the truth, exaggerate things, and use hyperbole to manipulate people into believing their narrative. Monokuma describes the Ultimate Despairs as “nothing more than Junko’s limbs”, which contradicts the existence of characters like Nagito. Who, while in his despair state, did not work with Junko nor did he look up to her (at least in the normal sense like the other Ultimate Despairs). In fact, it would have been impossible for them to really obey any of Junko's orders as Ultimate Despairs because Junko was trapped inside of Hope's Peak with minimal connection to the outside world. This isn't a definitive "Monokuma is lying" statement, but just note that his word isn't 100% reliable. Meanwhile, someone like Makoto who outright mentions brainwashing, is a much more reliable source.

Danganronpa Another Episode: More Brainwashing! (kinda irrelevant tho...)

The next time brainwashing is used is in the next entry, Danganronpa Another Episode. Though its purpose in this discussion isn’t the most useful, as the brainwashing is caused by Monokuma helmets, which don’t have their functionality explained. I figured it was worth mentioning and describing at least, as its another example of brainwashing at least.

I did figure it was worth adding how the brainwashed children act. They obey the Warriors of Hope’s every command, as if they have zero control over their actions. This is different from how the Ultimate Despairs act, who still some free had free will after presumably being brainwashed judging by the actions of Nagito, who is also in this game.

Danganronpa Togami: I Hate My Life

Okay. As mixed as my opinions are on this novel trilogy, it does feature brainwashing. In fact, it might feature one of the most detailed and important descriptions of brainwashing in the series, and even outright CONFIRMS that class 77-B were brainwashed (sorta).

"Hey um... Tumblr/Twitter user Pengu... what do you mean by 'sorta'?" Well my uninformed reader who I guarantee has probably never read this book, there's a twist. I regret to inform you that the canonicity of Danganronpa Togami is rather questionable, as it depicts an extremely unreliable narrator’s warped viewing of events due to this thing called the K2K system, which means not everything in the novel is meant to be taken literally or at face value.

This doesn't mean that everything should be discarded or immediately dismissed however. This just means that we have to use our brains a little and decipher what the hell Yuya Sato was cooking when he wrote this novel trilogy. In the novel, we discover the existence of the elusive despair novel. When read, the novel will turn the reader to despair and inflict them with the despair disease. This novel is what's used to plummet the world into despair, as well as being what caused the class 77-B to become the Ultimate Despairs. There's no known ways to avoid it, once you read it, it's joever. 😔

As I said earlier, the events of Danganronpa Togami can’t be taken literally. Due to this and prior context, we can safely assume that the despair novel is most likely the K2K's warped idea of the despair video from Danganronpa Zero. Instead of being a book being read that brainwashed people, it was a video being watched. What makes me so sure? Well let's look over the similarities. The way the despair novel works is that it uses cruel words to overload the reader with negative emotions, causing them to snap and turn to despair. That sounds almost exactly like the despair video, overloading the viewer by manipulating their emotions until they turn to despair.

However, a major difference comes from the fact that Danganronpa Togami confirms towards the end that the despair novel doesn't literally brainwash people, acting as a placebo and an excuse for people with despair to use.

However I don't believe this suddenly breaks the connection to the despair video in Danganronpa Zero. All it shows is that the novel doesn't create despair, which is something we already established with the brainwashing video. It doesn't make despair, it makes it stronger. Whether it be via the disturbing imagery on the screen or the words on a page giving you an excuse, all it does is amplify despair. Basically it doesn't make despair come out of nowhere, it incites it. This connection's a little bit of a stretch but I'll bring it up anyways. The technology used in the despair novels was originally to bring hope. (Take notes, it will probably be important assuming you buy this connection.)

Essentially, the despair novel works in a similar same way as the despair video, but instead it’s a book and you read it instead of watching it. This means that class 77-B and the rest of the world were most likely brainwashed via the despair video, and that is what caused the class to become Ultimate Despairs.

Danganronpa 3: The One People Really Don't Like

And all of this brings us to the most detailed yet controversial usage of brainwashing: Danganronpa 3. Many assume that the anime’s usage of brainwashing is a retcon, contradicting the words of our holy savior Super Danganronpa 2: Goodbye Despair High School. However, I’d like to debate that. In fact, I'd like to finally put a nail in the coffin of this really stupid debate and finally show you that Danganronpa 3's depiction of brainwashing is exactly how it has always been described.

In Danganronpa 3, we are introduced to Ryota Mitarai and his anime. Using the power of subliminal messaging, it heightens the viewer's emotions and makes them more powerful. What was once a slightly emotional scene is now a complete tearjerker fully capable of tearing at the viewers heart strings! While he acknowledges that there are unethical things that can be done with this technology and it's technically brainwashing, his goal is to use this technology to make the world a better place, even if it can be dangerous. If that sounds familiar, that's because it's what Hope's Peak tried doing with the despair novel in Danganronpa Togami. Though I'll admit, this single point is a little bit of a stretch as there are differences. I just figured it was worth at least a mention.

Using her analytical prowess, Junko gets a rough understanding of how the technology works, so she develops the despair video, featuring the student council killing each other overlayed with subliminal messaging technology to make the despair felt while viewing the video stronger.

The video works on Mikan, however Junko fears that the video may not be powerful enough to fully go through with her plans due to not understanding the technology nearly as well as Ryota does. Because of this, she forces Ryota to create a better, more powerful despair video. A despair video v2 if you will. Junko’s fears weren’t unfounded, as we discover that Chisa had the mental fortitude to resist the despair video, similarly to how Ryoko was able to resist the same video in Danganronpa Zero. This is exactly why Junko needs a more powerful video, one that she knows can’t be resisted.

"Ermmmm, Tumblr/Twitter user Pengu, how come Ryoko and Chisa are able to resist the despair video but Mikan and nobody in the reserve course could?" Good question, the answer is pretty simple. As mentioned before, the video takes advantage of the emotions of the viewer. Mikan is already pretty weak minded, so there wasn't much issue in controlling her. The reserve course already hated Hope's Peak and would take any reason to hate them more, so a video that shows them the sins of Hope's Peak would affect them as well. Ryoko and Chisa have no connection to the reserve course however, and neither are particularly very weak emotionally. Ryoko has the analytical prowess of Junko and Chisa is just a very strong willed person in general, and paired with Junko's lack of knowledge about subliminal messaging when creating the video, it's pretty obvious it wouldn't be that effective on them. All the more reason for Junko to force Ryota to make a better despair video.

The despair video v2 that Ryota is forced to make comes in the form of Chiaki’s execution video, where the stronger subliminal messages paired with witnessing the representation of the happiest moments in their miserable lives and their closest friend suffer makes class 77-B unable to resist. Ultimately this causes them to finally snap, being overloaded with despair, and now they turn into the Ultimate Despairs. (side note this is so freaking cool idc what anyone else says)

This resembles Monokuma’s explanation from Danganronpa 2. Junko used class 77-B’s emotions and years of getting closer against them to turn them to them to despair. Now featuring the added context of her using the video designed to manipulate people’s emotions. Also as @jelimore pointed out, Junko leading the class to Chiaki's execution itself was manipulating them. This depiction of brainwashing fits perfectly with the information provided throughout the series, even down to the little details. It’s so close in fact that I can say without a doubt that Danganronpa 3 did not retcon anything. “But Tumblr/Twitter user Pengu, that isn’t how the video is shown to work during Hope Arc. Therefore it actually contradicts previous entries and is inconsistent!" To that I say, you’re correct! ...at least about the hope video functioning differently, but that doesn’t make it inconsistent. The hope video behaves pretty differently. Instead of overloading the viewer with negative feelings, it simply just shows them a repeating video loop that turns them into a mindless zombie, likely caused by even stronger subliminal messaging. The people affected can also snap out of this state with some time, as seen with Aoi.

The reasoning for this is actually pretty simple, it’s just different technology entirely. It’s stated that the hope video was developed later on after the despair video. If anything, it behaves very similar to the Monokuma masks from Danganronpa Another Episode, which we also already established uses different technology. The hope video doesn’t contradict the despair video at all because they both use completely different tech. This can also be seen with how the despair video uses subliminal messaging, meanwhile the messaging in the hope video couldn’t be further from subliminal. There is no inconsistency, just two different things.

The reason the hope video needed to be broadcasted everywhere was so that since it would be airing everywhere, nobody would have time for the effects to wear off or resist it. This would turn the world into mindless zombies who obey every command, similarly to the Monokuma kids. It's just that now they don't have to force bulky helmets onto everyone.

Debunking Common Arguments

With the hope video out of the way, I think it’s very safe to assume that not only is the despair video’s functionality very accurate to previous descriptions, it’s also always been the reason for the brainwashing of Class 77-B, long before Danganronpa 3. Even if you disagree and think the cause of brainwashing was never explicitly mentioned in Danganronpa 2, there's still the fact that Danganronpa 2 outright says it was brainwashing. So even if a video wasn't the direct cause of it, them being brainwashed was still always intended (though given the context and the fact the video was introduced in a tie in novel for the game, I'm certain that it was always the culprit). Many point to this line where Kazuichi asks why they became the Ultimate Despairs and Makoto says he never got an answer to debunk this. But... this doesn't change anything. He asks why they became Ultimate Despairs, not how. And this is completely ignoring the fact that Makoto clearly has done his own digging into the situation, he discovered the Remnants of Despair were hiding among Future Foundation after all. The Future Foundation had access to brainwashing videos, they found them, so of course Makoto is going to know about the brainwashing. What Makoto is saying here is that he doesn't know every little detail, all he knows is that they were brainwashed. I wrote a bit more about it here, but there's nothing contradictory in this scene.

Many also point to Mikan stating that it was her many human relationships that led her to being the way she is. Once again, this changes literally nothing. Mikan was the only one of the remnants who actually knew Junko, she was the only one who spent time with her because she was the first subject. This is why she gets more attached to her, and even why she'd believe what Junko would tell her when they spent time together. Monokuma also says that Junko used "hopeless methods overflowing with charisma and humor" to control the masses. I don't even know why I have to address this, but this statement is so vague you can interpret it as a million things. Like for example, this is how she got Ryota to work for her. While pretending to be Makoto to manipulate the people in the trial, Junko tells them that they all became Ultimate Despairs while coming into contact with her at Hope's Peak and they were subjected by her terrifying influence. Again, ignoring how vague "terrifying influence" is, this is literally Junko trying to LIE AND MANIPULATE them. This is quite possibly the worst example you could have used because we know for a fact that she is lying to them while pretending to be Makoto. There's other examples of Junko trying to manipulate them, like mentioning how everyone hated them and their all Ultimate Despairs at the end of the day. But that's just what this is, manipulation. You would think that the "Junko manipulated class 77-B" crowd would understand that saying "everyone hates you but I saw your potential" is literally manipulation 101. She even states that Izuru killed the entirety of a student council, which we know for certain is a lie because Danganronpa Zero (which came out before) says otherwise. Some say that the brainwashing turned them into mindless zombies and eliminates all blame from their actions. While I would agree that it does make them less at fault, they still have the ability to make choices and still have free will. Their original personalities haven't been overwritten, their brains were just rewired to crave despair. They're still each their individual person with their own ways of feeling despair, and characters like Chisa and Nagito show that they regain their free will to an extent. I also wrote more about that here, LOL.

Conclusion and Final Thoughts

This whole debate stems from people misunderstanding Monokuma’s words and going along with the popular interpretation, which turned out to be wrong. Whether you like the use of brainwashing or not, it objectively isn’t a retcon as it's been developed ever since Danganronpa Zero. Personally, I love the use of brainwashing. I think the way it's developed throughout the series and its usage in Danganronpa 3 is super interesting. If you disagree, that's fine! Heck, if you choose to headcanon that Junko manipulated 15 individual teenagers into all becoming despair hungry terrorists capable but ending the world and fighting off every military in the world in less than a year, that's cool too! But the truth is, Danganronpa 3's brainwashing is canon and it's also not a retcon nor does it contradict anything. Contrary to popular belief, Kodaka was involved with the writing of the anime. He provided a large draft and outline of the plot and oversaw its development. He produced the anime, he did his homework, the team even played the games to prepare for writing the anime. He knew what he was doing. I'm sure if Kodaka intended for them to all be manipulated one by one, that's what he would have went with. All information implying that it was manipulation is very few and far between and questionable at best, not to mention outweighed by everything implying it was brainwashing. Mind manipulation stuff is not new in this series, its been around since the first game and brainwashing was established in literally the second entry ever produced. Whether you love it or hate it, think it's the best thing since sliced bread or the death of the series, brainwashing was the answer the whole time. Some people just never noticed it, and instead of acknowledging that they were wrong, they stuck with a headcanon that they believed so much and jumped to the conclusion of "retcon". I hope this mega post managed to inform some people, maybe change some minds too. If you still don't buy it, then I guess there's nothing I can do. Thanks for reading all of this though, I tend to yap a lot about this franchise lmao.

[vikisbay]

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【JJK】 Rejecting the JJK boys kisses Pt 1

|Gojo, Megumi, Choso, Geto, Yuji, Toge, Yuta,|

Pt 2

A/N —> when I tell you I was non-stop writing all of these, I am obsessed with this concept★彡

✧.┊︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶┊.✧

【GOJO S.】 collage!Gojo

• music was blasting in your ear, your headphones sat perfectly on top of your head disconnecting you from the world around. Mid terms were coming up and you had been working your ass off, getting good grades was always top priority.

Your stupidly gorgeous boyfriend was sitting across from you mindlessly scrolling on his phone when he realized is amazing girlfriend (and hopefully) soon to be wife was sitting right in front of him. Your face was being blocked by the screen of your laptop so he tilted down revealing you to him. You were so focused on writing down something in your notebook you hadn’t even realized Gojo staring at you.

You were suddenly snapped out of your trance when your headphones were slid off your head and onto your neck, “hi sweetheart” his smile warmed your heart and his voice was literally ethernal. His hands cupped your face bringing it centimetres away from his, oh god how could you focus on studying now.

His lips just barely grazed yours before you turned your head.

You tried your hardest to suppress your laughter but his face was absolutely priceless, your soft giggles filled there air as he stood there.

He just stood there.

Tears brimmed yours eyes from laughing so hard, you felt bad but you were also enjoying it “so you don’t love me anymore?” His hand held your chin making you look at him “I’m sorry Saturo…” your apologize sounded real but the smile that was planted your face told him otherwise.

the offended look on his face made you feel bad you so you laid a small kiss on the corner of his mouth before placing your headphones back on your head, and with that he was satisfied allowing him to go back to his seat and scroll on his phone.

【MEGUMI F.】 high school!Megumi

• your eyes fluttered open, you lifted your head from your arms before stretching them over your head. How long were you asleep for? This question was floating through your head making you wish you had just stayed asleep, just for a little longer.

You looked around to find yourself in an empty classroom all the chairs were tucked in neatly and not a single object was left behind, except for the desk next to you. Textbooks and notes were scattered around messily. You rubbed your eyes trying to shake off your grogginess. You remember keeping a certain raven haired boy company while he studied but after awhile of watching him work you decided to take a quick nap. the question that now filled your mind was ‘where was Megumi?’

like magic the boy walked back into the classroom holding snacks. when he saw you a smile grew on his face “I got you snacks” his tone was caring and gently, he also kept his voice low due to the fact that you had just woken up. he set a bottle of apple juice in front of you before sitting down in his own seat. he picked up the bottle of apple juice once again and twisted the cap open before urging you to take it.

the cold liquid flowed down your throat soothing it of the harsh dryness you felt when you woke up, “you should really start going to bed at a reasonable time” he almost sounded worried but was ultimately cool and calm. you nodded your head agreeing with him knowing full well your lack of sleep was starting to affect your everyday life. he reached a hand over to you tucking a strand of hair behind your ear.

he leaned in and you were well aware he was going to kiss you, but this gave you an idea. you put a hand on his chest stopping him in his tracks, this action made his eyes open slightly wider then usual. he raised an eyebrow at you making you let out a soft laugh.

“your so annoying sometimes”

this time he acted fast leaving a soft gentle kiss on your lips, clearly not finding your jokes funny which only made you find it funnier.

【CHOSO K.】 collage!Choso

• Choso laid down in your bed waiting for you, his eyes constantly threatening to close due to how late it was. you did this every night you took almost an hour to do your skincare and Choso just didn't understand way it mattered, you were already so stunning you didn't need to spend hours on your looks.

his head turned to the door as soon as he heard your soft foot steps, as soon as you came into view his eyes couldn't leave your body. you were wearing just your regular tank top and shorts but you still look so effortlessly stunning “are you just going to continue you staring?” a soft laugh left your lips and oh God was he so in love with you and i mean everything about you.

“maybe I am?” he shrugged his shoulders before patting the space beside him on the mattress. you slipped in the blanket which was cold against your bare legs. you snuggled closer to the black haired man for warmth, his warm hands wrapped around your waist bringing you comfort as you hid your face in his chest. he leaned in to lay a sweet kiss on your cheek but you moved your hand to his face pushing him away.

he backed up just a little bit a frown planted on his face, “I just put serum on my face baby” a scoff left his lips “princess, I just want to kiss you” his whiny voice made you laugh softly. you had to reach up to kiss Choso and as soon as you did he completely melted into your touch, you pulled away still giggling about the entire situation.

he pulled you in closer before saying “you don't need all that shit to look beautiful, trust me princess”

【GETO S.】 husband!Geto

• you had been working on the perfect dinner for Geto for the past hour. your boyfriend has been slaving away at work for days, he kept coming home after you had already gone to bed and would leave for work before you'd wake up. you understood that he was making money for the both of you and you were super grateful.

you set the plate of steak and mash on the table accompanied with a tall glass of his favorite wine, now you had to just wait for him to come home. while you waited you decided to do the dishes and when you were doing them he walked into the kitchen “hi gorgeous” he said tiredly before walking up behind you lazily wrapping his large arms around your waist, he nuzzled his head in your neck while you continued to clean the dishes.

he was about to leave a kiss on your neck but before he could you pulled away “eat dinner first, then I'll kiss you” you wanted nothing more than for him to have his way with you, to do whatever he wanted but he had been neglecting his heath by not eating so you had to be stern about this.

he frowned “is this what you say to your tired husband” a smirk graced his face, you turned around to face the dark haired man in front of you. so now he hand you pinned to the the brim of the sink “its what I say when my husband cant take care of himself” a soft scoff leaves your lips, he found your sass amusing making him laugh. he knew you really cared about him and he loved you even more for this so he did as you said even if he didn't like the faceted that you rejected his kiss.

of course later that night he was making you scream his name and making you beg for his lips on you.

because he was always able to make you a mess even if just hours before you had all the control over him.

— yours truly, Viki

✧.┊︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶┊.✧

[thedovesaredying]

Monsters in the Dark | Nikto x Reader | Part 3

Third chapter of the Cowboy!Nikto series. Nikto has some emotions and has no idea what they mean or how to deal with them. Original Cowboy concept based on the AU by @ghouljams

A/N: Finally got enough time to work on this chapter after weeks and weeks of hectic stress with work and university. Thank you to all of those still following along with the story, I'll hopefully have the next part out soon. Fun fact: The story of a horse getting hurt running into a fence because they were so excited to see someone is from one of the silly yearlings at uni lol.

Warnings: Minor medical proceedures, Nikto getting a little jealous.

Masterlist: CoD Masterlist

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Nikto can’t help wondering if there’s anything that can ruin your seemingly perpetual good mood. Even with your body dripping with sweat and elbow deep inside of a cow, you’re still somehow grinning brightly at the farmer standing beside you. Doing a part of your job that some would consider... unpleasant at best, you’re able to act as if it’s the most exciting thing you’ve ever done.  

One of the other farm hands, a man about your age, if a year or two older, is acting a little too interested in what you’re doing, however, and Nikto’s jaw is aching with how hard he’s grinding his teeth together. They make a soft groaning sound as they suffer under the pressure he’s subjecting them to, but unfortunately, it’s the only thing keeping him from snapping at “Darren” when the man crowds close to you with what he must think is a suave grin.  

“Alright, I can feel the cervix now,” you hum, and he can see the way your arm twists slightly within the animal, “it’s pretty easy to manoeuvre it around.” You frown to yourself, seemingly oblivious to the way that annoying brat leans a little closer, “the reproductive tract isn’t very heavy.” 

“And what’s that mean, darlin’?” Darren asks, and Nikto can’t decide what he hates more, the tone the other man is using to address you, or the way he thinks it’s okay to place a hand on your shoulder. The gelding underneath Nikto snorts, shifting uncertainly as he likely senses the tension brewing.  

“Oh,” you blink at Darren, as if only just noticing him for the first time, “normally you wouldn’t be able to move the cervix around so easily if she was carrying a calf, I’d be able to feel at least a little weight to it.” You reach a little further into the cow, taking a few moments longer before adding, “I can also feel the horns of her uterus, and there’s no fluid I can feel inside them.”  

Darren is nodding, but his gaze is far from focused on the animal or what you’re actually saying to him.  

You pull you hand slowly from the cow, removing the palpation glove and dropping it into the bin beside the cattle crush. “Looks like this girl’s open, I’m afraid,” you say, grabbing the can of cattle paint and spraying a bright green streak across the animal’s tail, “and that’s the last of the girls done.”  

Pulling the release lever, the heifer is let out of the crush and into the holding pen with the rest of the females you’ve checked for pregnancies. While most of them have little blue marks to indicate a successful insemination, a few of the younger ones weren’t lucky enough to take this time around.  

Darren looks as though he’s about to say something further (more than likely something stupid and obnoxious), but before he can do anything more than puff up his chest, Mr. Roberts is snapping at him.  

“Darren! Get your ass into the paddock, boy!” The old man has a scowl on his face that would have recruits shaking in their boots and a voice with a harsh snarl to it from years of smoking. “The hell do I bother paying you for?” he grumbles, watching as the younger man near enough trips over himself in his haste to get back to work.  

Nikto can’t help admiring the man for his no nonsense approach to his work. He’s friendly enough toward those who work for him, and when Nikto was looking for employment, took him on board with no questions asked. The elderly cowboy has made it clear that he could care less about where someone comes from, only that they can do an honest day’s hard work.  

“Well, thank you for giving us a hand with the ladies,” the old man’s tone softens drastically, and he offers you a firm handshake, “I know those big business farms have all that fancy new technology and blood tests to make checking for calves easier, but I much prefer the old method.”  

Although he would never admit it aloud, it’s rather… sweet, the way you beam at Mr. Roberts and nod along to his words. “Of course! A blood test would be useful for determining how long the baby’s been gestating for, but there’s nothing wrong with the palpation method to find out if they’re carrying anything.” 

Roberts seems pleased by your response, offering you an elusive smile, before giving you one final nod, “I’ll see you around town in a few days, and I’ll drop your payment off at the clinic.”  

There are a few final pleasantries exchanged, all of which Nikto ignores. He was supposed to be getting the horse tacked down and set out for the day. Getting distracted by you while doing your job was just an unfortunate happenstance. He urges the gelding onward with a gentle tap to the animal’s side, leaving you to the business of packing up all of your tools in peace.  

He dismounts once reaching the stable, giving the horse a firm pat on the shoulder before leading him into one of the nearest stalls. He can’t know for certain if anyone else will need Murphy before the end of the day, seeing as the horse belongs to Roberts, but the least he can do is ensure he’s comfortable until he’s turned out for the end of the day.  

While “Murphy” isn’t exactly a name that Nikto would have chosen for a horse, given it’s a little too human for his own tastes, apparently, the gelding was named after Murphy’s Law, seeing as the poor animal seems to constantly be getting into trouble. Anything that could possibly go wrong for him can and will. He’s only just recovered from a nasty gash he’d received to the front of his chest after getting a little too excited to see Nikto coming to greet him and crashing directly into a barbed wire fence.  

Nikto starts untacking Murphy, starting with the bridle and moving his way backwards. He gives the gelding a quick brushing down and picks out his hooves to ensure there’s no stones or injuries that’ve gone unnoticed. He leaves Murphy to his dinner while he works on cleaning off the bit of the bridle and applying oil where the leather has begun to dry out. It’s a difficult job with only one properly functioning arm, but he’s not about to ask for any assistance with such a mundane chore.  

When he gets back, however, he’s startled to find you standing there, stroking Murphy’s mane while the horse happily munches on a mouthful of hay. You’re cooing at the animal happily, giggling when Murphy starts trying to nibble at your shirt once running out of food.  

You turn and offer him a smile, face still a little warm from the sun outside and with several strands of your hair poking out in odd directions. He finds that the look suits you, oddly enough.  

It’s only when you call his name that he realises that you’ve been trying to speak to him and he’s just been there staring at your face like a complete idiot. He shifts his grip on the halter he’s holding and clears his throat. “What do you need?” He settles on eventually, deciding that’s the least offensive way of telling you he hasn’t heard a word spoken to him.  

Thankfully, you don’t seem to be too upset by it. “I was just asking how poor Murphy is doing, I know he had a nasty scratch recently,” you’re looking at Nikto, but your words are said in the same, high-pitched coo you tend to use whenever you’re talking to Sputnik, accompanied by a rather overdramatic frown.  

He rolls his eyes at you, but finds he isn’t entirely annoyed by the antics. “Fine. His wound has healed well,” he says while reaching over to try and guide Murphy’s head a little closer. He may not be a trained veterinarian, but Nikto has seen plenty enough injuries in his life to be able to tell when one isn’t healing well. Murphy, of course, decides not to cooperate, instead trying to press the side of his fluffy face up against you.  

Getting the halter over the horse’s head with one hand is rather awkward, especially with the way the animal insists on moving about. You reach out, and he’s about to snap at you for trying to do it for him. He’s had enough of people trying to treat him like an infant recently, as though he’s not a dangerous killer.  It was suffocating enough when it was hospital staff and physiotherapists, but even a civilian thinking he’s too incapable to perform such a simple task? 

But then, you simply grab the buckle in one hand and hold it in position for him to secure himself.  

It would be far faster and more efficient for you to take the halter and do it yourself, yet you stand patiently without comment, and wait as he pulls the strap over the horse’s head and fastens the catch in place. He’s not sure why the thought of you specifically treating him like a weak child had him prepared to lash out quite so aggressively, especially when he’s brushed off similar actions by other people with only a few choice words and a particularly icy glare.  

You return to eagerly cooing at the horse before he can force himself to offer any kind of thanks, and he quickly pushes down the uncomfortable tangle of emotions trying to crawl their way up from his stomach.  

“Are you finished for the day?” You ask after a few moments of silence. He gives you a nod and you’re quick to ask, “how’s your girl been holding up?”  

“Our girl?” he asks slowly, forehead scrunching up. Do you think he has a partner or some kind? Why would you think there’s a girl in his life? Has he done something to make you think he’s married or dating someone?  

“Sputnik,” you clarify, and his face must do something odd because you snort at his reaction. “Why, do you have another girl?” 

Nikto can’t help automatically scoffing at the question, shaking his head at the very thought, “нет, we have no one.” He sees your eyebrows raise slightly, as if surprised by that, but you quickly school your expression back into its normal, carefree smile.  

Your expression quickly turns into something playful, however, as you add, “really? A big, handsome man like you?” He’s not sure how genuine your teasing tone is, “surely you’ve got the ladies lining up.” You have this way of joking around with him and asking questions in a way that doesn’t make him want to immediately tell you to ‘fuck off’. It’s a strange feeling, and he’s not entirely sure he likes it.  

“You are just crazy,” he counters, going to cross his arms over his chest, only to realise he can’t and instead settling for just letting them rest in place. He sees your eyes travel down the length of his damaged arm, stopping at where it abruptly ends. You don't comment on it, however, and he’s annoyed by how glad he is that you don’t. You likely didn’t even notice his injury until now, given he’s been wearing his prosthetic covered by long-sleeved clothes and gloves every other time you’ve met.  

“Wow, so rude,” you grin, trying to playfully shove his shoulder, only to pout when he’s entirely unmoved by the action. He’s been called rude many times in his life, but this is the first time he’s ever found himself pleased to hear it from someone.  

The sound of the stable door opening has you pulling your attention away from him and toward Roberts, who has just entered. You give Murphy a quick pet to the side of the neck, and Nikto a final grin, offering up a brief, “I’ll see you around.” 

Roberts waves as you leave the stables, waiting for the large door to close before he turns to look at Nikto, one of his bushy eyebrows raised. “So, when’re you gonna marry that lovely girl?” The old man asks, leaning against the stall door with an upward twitch of his lips.  

Nikto near enough chokes on thin air, whirling around on the cowboy with a startled, “что?”  

The old man just sighs heavily, shaking his head, “just make sure you do it soon, yeah? We need another vet living out here on a permanent basis,” he ploughs on, “she already knows the area and she’s a lovely young lady.”  

As quickly as he arrived, Roberts wanders off again, heading back to work and leaving Nikto standing in the middle of the horse stall. He takes a long moment, just staring at where the old man had been a few moments ago while his brain slowly processes everything. Surely he wasn’t being serious, right?

-

Translations

“да,” - “Yes” 

"что?” - "What?"

[sheisjoeschateau]

"Oh, so we DO love Steve..." | PART III

⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ SERIES MASTERLIST ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆

Steve Harrington x Bauman!fem!reader enemies to lovers, heavy angst, hurt/comfort, upside down mayhem, S2-S4, post S4 universe hot-take, end-of-the-world / dystopian setting, ugly fights turned smut (...but with hella plot). 18+

CHAPTER WARNINGS: mega plot-driven smut ahead in this part of the story. you've been warned. MINORS, DNI. 18+

***

Despite everything, you and Steve both get through battling Vecna. You both grin and bear it. You both set aside your differences when the moment calls for it.

Just like you have before. Many times.

And in the midst of it all, you can't help but wonder about your uncle. How he's doing. If he's somewhere in his bunker still, hopefully drinking less (ideally, not at all) and keeping up his phone calls with Joyce. You'd told her to keep tabs on him, and you also told your uncle to keep tabs on her. They needed each other. You had the kids and the teens, but they needed each other. And sure, your uncle has you. Always. But you have to work, and babysit, and hang around a guy who hates your guts because the circumstances won't permit otherwise.

Eddie and Robin really stick up for you. They do. They really like you. Steve can’t stand it.

Even Nancy doesn’t mind you. Honestly, she’s scared of you more than anything. Steve doesn’t care.

The kids love you. Steve won’t make them hate you. He never would. But he won’t endorse their kind sentiments about you either.

More groups are formed, along with more plans. Scary, life-threatening plans.

You stay behind with Dustin and Eddie, knowing that Steve is quietly a basket case over the concept leaving Dustin alone without having him there to protect him from all this shit, the way he has before. With the demodogs, the Russians, and everything up to this point. That kid is his brother. His son.

It’s the only time that Steve tells you thank you.

And he sincerely means it.

By the grace of some unspeakable force, you manage to not only keep Dustin alive...but also Eddie. The bats have done their damage, and you've got some damage yourself. Though not nearly as bad as Eddie. You can withstand yours with adrenaline and the sheer need to protect one of your kids and get this metalhead back to the real world so that he can get proper medical attention.

When Steve and the girls all get back to the three of you there, after all the shit hits the fan - you, Steve, Nancy, Robin and Dustin all manage to get Eddie back across the gate and get him majorly patched up. Thanks to Dr. Owens.

You keep Eddie hidden at Murray's bunker. You're shocked to find it empty, your worry growing more every single minute. But Steve tries to assure you that your uncle is likely fine, probably just out to eat or something. However... even he knows that is not true. Murray does not go anywhere.

"Bauman," he's saying to you, softly. So softly. Softer than he's ever spoken to you once. "He's gonna be okay. I promise. We're here, alright?"

Two days later, Jonathan and his Cali crew all show up. Nancy and him are reunited.

And you watch Steve break.

He doesn’t let it show, not really. But you see it. Both you and Robin do. You let her comfort him. He needs his best friend, much more than he needs you. Especially in this situation. You are undoubtedly the last source of comfort for him in this specific instance.

You reunite with your Uncle Murray, who has returned with Joyce and �� to your surprise — a very much alive Hopper.  It’s a beautiful reunion, as you all hug tightly. 

You all fucking lived, bitch.

Given the new flurry of debris-snow-shit in the air, you all end up having to take shelter.

Steve volunteers his house, given that his parents fled to their vacation home and he told them he wasn’t going. They ditch him, so he has the house all to himself. This time, he doesn’t have to be alone though.  He has his real family.

You all move into the Harrington House. Lord knows it’s big enough. But it’s also really tight, for two people who can’t stand each other unless there’s a really ugly monster guy waltzing around that needs to be killed along with his multi-species army of little uglies.

Given the close quarters, on top of the fact that you all can’t leave the house much unless it’s for supplies, you and Steve have no choice but to coexist.

He still resents you, especially seeing Nancy and Jonathan are now getting along again and seem to be doing better. But it's much more subdued now, and you both find a way to talk. Which happens mainly because of you, initiating.

You learn more about Steve's home life, given the pictures everywhere throughout the house. They're all pretty stiff, lacking warmth. You figured that Steve was a pretty lonely trust fund baby, and being that you're a lonely child you can relate to the loneliness that comes with that. Not the trust fund part. Just the only-child-syndrome part, which you know perfectly well forces you to either become very well acquainted with yourself...or hate yourself even more. Steve clearing did not lean into becoming his own source of reliability and companionship, the way that you did. And it made you understand him better. It made you understand why he needed to be around the likes of Carol and Tommy H. He did not know how to be alone with himself.

"I think my dad and I don't even like the same beer," Steve scoffs, allowing himself a humorless chuckle. You don't laugh with him, instead giving him a soft look. An apology with your eyes.

"And my mom, she just...I dunno. Sometimes, I wonder why she never left him."

You let Steve reveal as little or as much as he wants to. It just depends on the day.

The two of you watch out for the kids. You both go with them to visit Max in the hospital. You even initiate finding a way to get her to stay there while in a coma, thanks to enlisting the help of your uncle to help enlist the help of Dr. Owens. The kids love you for that.

Steve doesn’t love you… But he appreciates you.

A lot. He's beginning to find appreciation for you, for a lot of things.

Your uncle clocks the very niche tension between the two of you, now that you’re all under the same roof and he’s given no choice but to.

And damn, it makes him curious. He is, after all, the witch doctor of love…

Nevertheless, Murray takes his time choosing when to strike.

As you and Steve both help nurse Eddie back to health, and read to Max in her coma (which leads to both of you just simply talking), and make the kids laugh together, and even make conversation with Nancy and Jonathan (…it’s very double date ish) Murray watches his niece — and mannnnnn, is he amuuuuuused.

One night, you and Steve stay up to share some drinks with the adults. It’s the first time that the two of you actually make each other really laugh, heartily. The drinks help.

That’s sort of Murray’s plan. Vodka is, after all, the holy grail.

Even Eddie joins, along with Robin. But Steve sits next to you. Not his best friend, or the new friend he’s made in the metalhead. Nope, he sits his perfect, hunky ass that makes all the ladies drool right next to little ole you.

And damn, do you both laugh.

Murray’s never seen you laugh that hard with anyone in his life. He wonders if you’ve ever laughed that way at all. 

And the way that Harrington looks at you?  Especially when you’re not looking… Holy shit. 

And the way you look at him the same way... makes Murray grin ear to ear like a mischievous kid with the plan to wreak havoc.

Hopper and Joyce are so settled into their relationship, and Jonathan seems to be winning back the love of Nancy. Eddie and Robin are so single it hurts, but it's legendary too. And you? Steve? Well, you guys are mortal enemies. And yet somehow, sitting here in the Harrington's living room with glasses of chilled vodka, belly-laughing over anything -- you and Steve exude more chemistry than all of them combined.

So when everyone goes to bed, and Murray catches you alone, he grills you. Not like the others. Nah, you’re family. He’ll cut you some slack.

…not much, though.

It sobers you right up.

"Do not tell me for one second that you don't think he's gorgeous," your uncle is saying in a low voice. You're both standing in his bedroom, having fetched him a tall glass of water which turned out just be a way to fucking lure you into his witchdoctor trap.

"I love you Uncle Murray. I really do. But this theory? -- is not one of your other bullseye's."

"Face it, kiddo," your uncle is smirking. "Your uncle's never wrong. You're just never the one on the other end of his lectures when he's making astute observations. You're always contributing to it. But this time? You're the leading lady, darling."

"False."

"You like Steve."

"Murray...!"

"You like Steve..."

You try to tell your uncle that everything he is saying is nonsense. Steve hates you. He absolutely hates you. Loathes and despises you, and plans to do so until you’re all particles of dust. 

“Plus, he is so fucking annoying and whiny and entitled and has zero self respect unless it’s up against someone who calls him out for his shit,” you tell your uncle, gesturing to yourself on the last part. “Steve Harrington is a cocky guy who would just rather suffer in his own misery than ever see or lean into being this...this incredible man that he's...capable of being, the role model he has become to those kids, who love him, they love the human most deserving of being put first —”

.................

…oh fuck.

The silence is deafening. Murray’s smirk and all-knowing glare only adds to your being aware of what you just said to him, and admitted to yourself, out loud.

“Oh…oh so we do love Steve.”

Your uncle’s words are the cherry on top of the cake you just baked, and didn’t know you had the ingredients to make.

You don’t sleep that night.

***

The next morning, you and Steve both sit with Max.

"Wondering what she wrote in yours?"

Steve is nodding at the stack of letters on the bedside table. You all left them there, promising yourselves not to open them. Because she will wake up.

Lucas took it hard, Max dying. You'd been there to hold him, comfort him, along with Steve. You both watched him burst into tears numerous times, sometimes sobbing uncontrollably, despite the fact that she was somehow still here. It broke both your hearts, but you both got through it with him. Together.

And while the other kids were taking it hard too...so fucking hard...it was Steve who carried the most guilt. Remorse, anguish and guilt.

"I failed my kid," Steve had told you at the hospital once. You looked at him with a furrowed brow and concerned eyes.

"Steve, no you didn't."

His voice shook, eyes drowning in nightmarish thoughts. "I wasn't there for her. I wasn't -- wasn't..."

"You could never fail those kids. Not even if you tried."

He didn't believe you. But he wanted to. You had squeezed his hand that day, sitting in the waiting room. And to your surprise, not only did he let you...but he squeezed it back, letting your hands rest that way for an hour as you fell asleep in the seats before being woken up.

And now, sitting in one of his guest rooms while Max lay asleep in the coma still, you can see that guilt in him is spreading.

Steve is holding the letter that she gave to him, and you ask him if he’s wanting to read it.

Steve snorts. "God, you kidding? She'll wake up just to kill me before going right back to sleep."

You smirk, biting back a real laugh. “True.”

But Steve looks conflicted. He fiddles with the letter in his hands, wanting to tear it open. You know that he does.

“…want me to read it out loud to you instead? She can kill me in your place.”

Steve chuckles at that.

...but he doesn’t say no.

In fact, after biting his lip for a minute and thinking, he finds himself nodding. Yes. Please, read it to me, he’s thinking.

So you do.

You take the letter and read it to him. You read him the words that only a little sister could write to a big brother who she loves and wishes she will grow up to be like. You read him words that make him light up like a Christmas tree, yet cause him a painful ache deep within his bones. You read him a letter of love that no one ever took the time to write, let alone express, to him his entire life.

Steve fights tears. He bites them back, successfully. You’re the last person he ever wants to see him vulnerable. Hell, he can’t even see himself like that without judging his own self harshly. He can only imagine that you will, too.

He doesn’t know, though, that not only would you never judge him for that. But selfishly, you wish he would feel safe with you. Or God, someone at least. Just not Nancy.  Someone who deserves him wholeheartedly.

"Steve," you speak softly.

He's staring into space, zoned out. But then, he finally looks over at you. He sees the kindness in him, and it almost takes his breath away. The way that you look at him...he just never thought you could...that you could --

"You're all of these things. Everything she wrote in this? You're all of it. And then some. You're the hero all those kids dream of being when they grow up. You're their favorite person. The one they trust, go to for everything. Even if you don't think that they do, they do."

He listens, unable to move. Speak. Breathe.

"You are...a great person, Steve Harrington."

***

That night, there’s a knock on your door. You’ve been given the guest room upstairs with no bunk mate. Unlike most of the people in the house. But given that Joyce and Hopper are together now, and El sleeps in Max’s room to keep watch, the four younger boys share a room with Eddie, Nancy is with Jonathan, Erica sleeps at her own house and Robin shares Steve’s room since she splits her time here and at home — you and Murray got the solo rooms.

Steve is now grateful for those sleeping arrangements tonight.

Because when you open the door, he’s on the other side. He looks sad, conflicted and lost. Like his mind is racing at a million miles an hour, yet can’t think of anything to say. He’s tongue tied, just staring at you expectantly…

What is he expecting?

“What’s wrong?” you ask. “Is it Max?”

Something about your question makes Steve brows pinch together. Like it’s suddenly confusing him even more. But he doesn’t speak.

You wait patiently. But truth be told, you are anxious as fuck. Because damn, he’s pretty. He is so stupid pretty. And fuck it’s annoying. His lips are just the right shape in a pout, and it’s really fucking annoy —

His lips are crashing into yours before you can even finish dissecting them.

Steve is kissing you like life depends on it. Gentle at first, but eager. Determined.

And when you both pulls back -- you don’t hesitate for more than a solid 2-3 seconds, your eyes shocked while his eyes silently ask, is this okay?

Your lips crashing back against his answers — yes.

Steve is a hurricane of both madness and all things serene in the ways that he touches your body. He explores your skin with his lips and hands, as if he has all the time in the world. The curve of your jaw and neck. The jut of your collarbones. The feel of your clavicle, which leads him to the shape of your tits and nipples. He cherishes your body, hungrily exploring it. It’s heated, hot and heavy. He licks a stripe down your abdomen to the waistband of your sweatpants. The way his brown irises look up at you, all round and doe eyed, makes the back of your throat groan with need. It’s not loud or brash, nor is it strained and quiet. It’s soft but certain. Steve melts at it, his fingers curling one by one around the band of your sweatpants, his eyes still asking — please?

You’re nodding without even having to hear a word out of him. And Steve pulls.

Euphoria is the feeling of Steve’s tongue exploring your folds. It’s the sound of him sighing into your portal in pure pleasure, and the way he sucks your clit with fervency yet flicks it with supple patience. His hands knead into your thighs, one of them reaching to squeeze your hips so that he can pull himself up to you and let you taste yourself on his tongue. He wraps an arm underneath your waist, hooking you to him, asking in the breathiest of whimpers, “Please let me, angel.”

He’s getting a fistful of your hair into one of his big hands, adoring the way that you squeak a yelp. You suck on his tongue, hard, and it’s enough to drive him mad. He pins himself against you, grinding. But you sit up, keeping your bodies glued together and now using your teeth to tug on his lip and paralyze him in pure ecstasy. You take the opportunity to slide your teeth and tongue down his jaw and neck, trailing pecks and kisses along the way, and the throaty whimper he lets out makes you see stars behind your hooded eyes as you drag your tongue down his chest. The wet stripe you’re leaving glides down to his toned abdomen’s bunny trail, and as you curl your fingers around his sweatpants, you pause… letting your lips press the most fluttery of kisses to each of his scars.

Steve can’t help the shudders, sighs and whimpers that escape his lips, along with your name. It’s raw, uncensored.  He clutches your hand, which you extend up to him in a greedy grab as you slowly work his pants down with your other hand. You hook your fingers onto his chin, forcing him to let go of your hand in his and look down at you. He does, and it’s game over. You watch him and never break eye contact as you use both hands to push down his briefs…

…and thank God for that — because otherwise, you would see just what you’re up against as far as pleasuring him goes.

You feel the tip of his hard length tap your chin, and you scoot farther down into the mattress — on your knees like a perfect angel. Your tongue plays with its head, tasting the tang of his pre-cum, and Steve is shaking so hard he can’t stand it. He clenches his jaw, gritting out blissful curses through his teeth. “Fuck, baby, fuck.”

You take in the intense length of him, pleasuring him until he is touching the back of your throat and nearly gagging you senseless, and the mess he is up above you — it sends your mind into a tailspin. He has never looked so pretty, eyes squeezed shut except when he’s glancing back down at you with more fondness and adoration than you ever thought possible from not only a man who hates you…but any man at all.

And when Steve is just about to cum, he begins to beg. “P-please. Wait, please.”

His hands urgently cup your jaw, forcing you to look back up at him and cease your sickeningly perfect work. He pulls, and you follow. He drinks you in with his gaze, staring into your soul, as if he’s trying to figure you out. He stares and stares, his thumbs stroking your cheeks, his brown eyes searching yours like you are the most beautiful mystery he has ever needed to solve. He looks as though he might ask you something. Say something...

But he dives in to kiss you again before he lets himself.

His hand wraps around the bend of one of your knees, tugging it up so that he can hook your leg around his waist. Then he does it to the other. And before you know it, you’re straddling him.

“Fuck, Bauman, please,” Steve Harrington groans into your mouth. Then softer, murmuring against your lips as he kisses them endlessly, “please let me, please.”

And you know what he is asking. You know what he wants. You don’t have to even think twice. Lifting yourself up, lining him with your entrance, he stretches you out and the euphoric sting of it sucks the air right out of you. And Steve.

Steve is winded by the feeling of how tight your walls are, and by just how right it feels to be inside of you. You both fit. Like a perfect match.

At this point, you’re both a frenzy of fucking. You ride him – slow, hard, fast, all of it. Steve keens into your mouth, then your neck as he buries his face there — completely overwhelmed. You hold his head there, comfortingly and securely, and so fucking perfectly as your fingers tug at the ends of his perfect hair.

“I’ve got you, baby,” your voice shakes in a breathy whisper, just for him. “Let it all go.”

And Steve does. His fingers dig into the curve of your back, pulling you impossibly closer to him as he presses the loud growl of his climax into your bare shoulder. He releases himself into you, hot and loaded, and you drip just as much onto him as he just shot into you.

As if that wasn’t enough to send you reeling — enough to make you see angels and devils and god — it’s the way that Steve shudders against you, catching his breath…and then pulls back to look at you…that renders you speechless.

His hairline leaks sweat, his face beaded with it. His eyelids are hooded, the dark brown irises dazed and daring to meet your gaze. His lips are parted perfectly — and the way he looks up at you with his tousled hair, somehow still perfect after it’s been pulled and messed with, is the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen. Steve Harrington is so fucking beautiful.  He’s an all-American boy, yet a Greek god.

The way that Steve gently brings your forehead to his, breathing against you, closing his eyes at the contact — you find yourself timidly nuzzling the tip of your nose to his. And you feel him smile against you, opening your eyes just enough to steal a peek — and that’s when you feel a deep ache in your heart and soul that might as well kill you.

Because now you realize. That is love. 

Steve is love.

But you let it die inside of you tonight, not wanting to make this moment end any sooner than it has to. Instead, you let Steve entangle his limbs with yours, not daring to ask if he wants to stay. Because if you do, he’ll likely leave. He’ll realize that being in bed with you is the last place that he wants to be, and that he’s made a mistake. He’ll go back to hating you, more than he already does, and it will be the death of you. So instead, you just let it ride out however it’s supposed to.

You try not to count the minutes as Steve absentmindedly traces circles with his fingertips on your skin. Your hip bones, your shoulder blades, your spine. You tell yourself to forget that time and its limits exist as you stroke the hair at the nape of Steve’s neck, your temple against his forearm, his outer arm draped over you. You tell yourself that this is it. This is heaven. This is eternity. You tell yourself even if you wake up and it’s just a dream, you’ll remember it for as long as you live. Because on the other side of death is this, and it will never end.

You let that ease your mind as he presses his lips to your forehead and you no longer fight sleep.

So when you do wake up…and find that Steve is still there…you’re shocked. But you stay that way until he wakes. He looks at you in awestruck wonder. Not confusion or regret. Just…wonder.

He props himself up on an elbow, still looking at you, deep in thought. All you can do is stare back, wishing you knew what the hell he was thinking but not daring to ask. It wasn’t worth risking this.  You stay that way for a little while.

He finally breathes a sigh, whispering, “Kids will be up soon.”

You give him a soft smile and gentle nod. You can already see Dustin waking up to go knock down Steve’s door, and that’s…not gonna end well if he finds out that Steve is walking out of your room instead.

Steve contemplates god-knows-what for another long moment before pressing a quick kiss into your hairline as he rises.

You watch him stand and dress himself, your heart throbbing at the way he looks in the early morning light streaming through the windows. His body is god-like. Tall, lean and athletic. His skin has the most beautiful constellation of moles that put the entire galaxy of stars to shame. And you ache at the thought of never being able to touch them again.

He gives you a soft grin after he throws his t-shirt back on, and before you know it he’s gone.

You lay there staring at nothing, feeling yourself leak a couple of silent tears and wondering why. You find yourself afraid to get up and face whatever new reality lies ahead of you on the other side of that door. 

***

thanks for reading :) comment to be added to my tag list for this series.

tags: @erastourvip @xprloki @get0ut0fmyr00m @eddiemuns0nl0ver @marrowfrog00

[loraliewritesthings]

Concept: inspired by @bluerosefox and they're work about danny demanding the jokers soul. I wanted to write the joker and Danny's interactions too.

Danny groaned as the next set of paperwork was slipped onto his desk.

Joker would soon croak.

He would slip on his own banana peel and fall down the stairs.

Gothem would celebrate that night with alcohol and music. The ghost zone would brace itself for the trial...

Honestly it was bound to happen. It wasn't that danny was surprised. But it would be a long drawn out case. When a human dies they become more of what they are after all.

It's like their souls are condensed to make up their ghostly form. As if their passions were their hearts.

For some that was amazing. Fiery passion can be useful in all sorts of situations, but for joker this would be a nightmare come true.

The ghost looked at him his eyes worried, almost teary.

"Should I alarm the Gothamites of the infinite realms."

Danny thought for a minute, let out a low hum, and thought some more.

He knew what he could do in theory.

If he was to judge the jokers soul in the room that he dies in, the ghost zone would be free from his wrath.

But if the joker defeated him in combat he shuddered at what that monster would do with all the power in the afterlife.

He didn't really think joker could take him down, but knowing others thought the same for him and his predecessor....

So Danny was left with one option.

"Call my knights," he commanded

The fright knight was captain. Head of the army and keeper of the soul shredder.

Danny only needed to borrow it, but when he explained the predicament the ghost dropped to his knees, the metal clang sound echoed through the office. The fright knight began to speak,

"You wish to spare me from looking into the eyes of evil, and I thank you my liege. But I can not and shall not send you alone to your second death."

Danny told him to rise to get off the dirty floor, but he continued.

"As captain of the guards my liege is only under my obligation to the knights under me."

Danny remembered the conversation that made that a possibility. That changed the priority of obligation completely and totally, hopefully for once and for all.

Danny hid a small smile and told him to get of the floor again

............

It didn't take long to find joker amoung the living. He was surrounded by weeping souls unable to move on.

Danny clutched his scale. A gift from clockwork, to a "good and fair king to continue to strive to be better."

Clockwork had, in the end taken up the role of advisor. As such he stood by Danny's right side, his captain to the left.

When they entered the room he was already dead.

The soul of the man was laughing hysterically.

He got louder when he spotted them.

Danny sighed and despite the noise tried to read him his rights.

He argued with each and every one in nonsensical logic.

The third time Danny slapped him across his ghostly face, leaving frostbite and cold crystals on his white cheek.

"I am not batman, I am death. I will not play as he does, I am the ghost king, death himself."

After the rights were read Danny peared into his soul, sticky and tar like, it made him feel ill. He put on the extra gauntlet brought and separated the dead from his deeds.

It felt like lifting a semi, and weighed him down about a foot.

The joker cackled with pride. Danny wondered if he didn't understand the gravity of the situation, or if he didn't care.

Then with the other hand he did the same to himself.

Both sets of deeds were set on the scale at the same time. Danny barely caught the peice of his own ghostly form.

The scale broke the table on its way down, jokers sludgelike, corrupted deeds stuck to it. The scale hadn't twitched once to the other side.

The knights went to pick up the piece of soul and put it back. It took three of them.

Danny put his deeds back were they belonged.

When everything was dead and done, joker was declared guilty and chained down, something he escaped out the window and around the block to avoid.

Danny took out the soul shredder.

It wasn't the fright knights job to play executioner.

Then the joker was blindfolded, he made this difficult via attempted biting, but once it was done, it was done.

Danny didn't ask for a last word.

He took the sword and swung as he had been taught. And as the jokers very soul was torn, the bells rang in Gotham for the first time in Years.

He didn't miss.

[lexirosewrites]

bear with me, i basically know nothing about the olympics and have never watched them. i had to google everything 😭

A! eddie as that one olympic pole jumper who was eliminated cus his massive dong knocked the pole down

O! steve is there as a swimmer, but he stuck around for a couple weeks after his events to watch some other competitions and hang out with his friends.

it's simple really. steves sitting in the village cafeteria the day after the event. he's still thinking about it, sighing wistfully as he stares down at his plate. its something french. fancy.

small.

steve can't help but daydream about it. the man was beautiful, and he also has a massive monster cock? so sue him. steve is only but a man. a horny one.

steve sighs again, twirling his fork through his meal. the last person he slept with had been below average. pair that with their terrible technique and you have an unsatisfied omega. he tries not to judge, really, but he cant help but have a preference. a big one.

steve takes a bite. he wont lie. he only ordered the dish because it had cock in the name. at least thats how it looked on the menu.

steve's snapped from his reverie when someone else sits across from him. the smell hits him before he can even look up, and he just knows they'll be hot as hell.

When steve looks, he cant stop his jaw from dropping, a dribble of sauce hitting his plate with an embarrassing splat.

its him.

holy shit. he quickly wipes his mouth and swallows his food. the man across from him (eddie, was it?) is almost unrecognizable out of uniform, curly hair wild, and wearing what steve can only describe as 80's metalhead.

steve only realizes hes staring when he sees the man's mouth curl into a smile, smug and amused.

[record scratch or whatever, i got the flu before i could finish this lil drabble, it woulda been where theyre both clearly attracted to each other, steve keeps staring at his crotch, and after working each other into a frenzy they bang in the closest bathroom. rip. im actually really into this concept even tho im a bad writer so i gave it a shot 😭 hopefully someone else will have the same idea and write about it too]

YES!!! MASSIVE DONG POLE VAULTER ALPHA EDDIE!!!! his very existence is omega Steve’s holy grail😌